#I’m having a great time can’t you tell

[kooyabooya]

ENTROPY

m reader x karina // 13k words

“It’s a stupid bet, Karina.” 

Karina lifts an eyebrow, only at certain points in conversation where she thinks your opinion is highly invalid. 

“No, it isn’t. You didn’t even let me properly explain,” she tells you, “All I want is a favor. Not a bet.” 

“It’s still asking a lot from me when I’m already dealing with your bullshit.” 

She sighs, leaning back on the counter. You’ve got a hand to your hip and an expression on your face that says: “fuck off six ways back to Sunday,” That’s how these usual briefings go, the quick dump or fill-in of whatever the fuck is worth sharing in each others’ lives. 

Instead, she raises her hands up in surrender, lips pulled inward. “Fine. Would it be better for me to come back to you on this sometime later?” 

“Can I suggest not having you bother me ever again?” 

A snort, then a cackle is what she gives. So, you roll your eyes because you know that it's always, always a tell-all for disaster. 

“Oh honey,” she says, patting your shoulder while you look over to see her running off to do her own thing, “You’re gonna be stuck with me for a long time. You just haven’t seen it yet.” 

–

To bring things up to speed: you didn’t know what the fuck you were thinking when you brought Karina along as your roommate. 

At first, things were great. 

The living styles were well complimented. Separate rooms, similar schedules, the usual activities you’ve done together for fun. Even the chores were assigned (though by second nature and good habits). This small space was well put to be a slice of home away from home whilst going through the ranks of college. 

She invited some of her friends and classmates over from time to time; some of which you had a partial interest in. Sometimes you’re out with Karina’s setups, other times she’s the one that’s out and about while you were holding the fort down. For the most part, life was easy having your best friend since middle school hang around with you. 

Still, no issues to mention whatsoever. 

But then- 

“Do you have a minute?” 

It’s 8 pm on a Saturday and Karina’s coming to you for her regular yaps and endless rants since the girl just talks and talks and talks. 

You curse at yourself at times for always being the listener.

“Yeah,” you say, closing your laptop on the kitchen island when she rounds the corner, coming to your side. “I don’t have anything, so I’ve always got time.” 

You’re hoping that it isn’t anything out of the ordinary; from the looks of things, all signs seem to point that way. She’s in her sports shorts with one of your (stolen) t-shirts - the collar cut off highlighting her shoulder - hair tied up and in glasses, you automatically assume that she isn’t going anywhere. 

“Remember when I brought up that thing?” 

“What thing?” 

Then it hits you: that thing. 

You had your fingers crossed that she would forget about asking you for whatever she needed you for. Sucks that she had a good memory - not only that, you’ve made yourself reliable for her so many times before; turning her down was simply an impossibility. 

Not all heroes wear capes, sadly. 

Karina slaps your shoulder, easily seeing through your mask of sarcasm. 

“Don’t act dumb, genius. That ‘thing’ was just coming along with me for once.” 

Her brows furrowed, the corners of her lips tracking back across her cheeks. You can’t say no let alone ignore the poor girl. 

“You know me with outings,” you reason, sensible. In most cases like these, Karina comes to you out of others to bring up her issues, her dilemmas; her self-inquisitions, as she would like to call them from time to time. And usually, they’re straightforward. This should be an easy cakewalk. “I’m all for it, but what’s the point when you force me to be more sociable when you’re dragging me around?” 

“Because maybe you’re the biggest pussy I’ve had the misfortune of being with.” Karina huffs, arms crossed and face left in distress. She examines you so closely under her microscope that it’s borderline invasive - but you don’t tell her that. So you twine your fingers in between each other and return the laser-focused stare she’s giving you, taunting almost along the lines of - look, if you’re gonna be convincing, you gotta do better than that. 

All she does is throw a shoulder shrug, awkwardly -  dropping them so fast that you’re putting everything in your willpower to not notice the subtle bounce of her chest. 

Her palm faces up toward the ceiling, hoping for a response. You purse your lips out to spite her. She has to deal with your bullshit head-on, tragically. 

“It’s always the work, gym, eat, sleep, do more work at home, and repeat. All the fucking time. So bland and-” 

You tilt your head the more her insults fill your ears. 

“You disgustingly piss me off.” 

Her fingers press on your forehead when you give the subtle eye smile and smirk combination, finally pushed over the edge now she doesn’t want anything to do with you. She paces around the kitchen and you can see her eyes dart over at the corner. 

She won’t leave you alone. 

Not until she gets what she wants. 

Besides, you’ve learned that Karina isn’t very good at persuading people to do something. Though eventually- 

“Why didn’t you just say you’re inviting me to go out for a night?” You ask, knowing that the bluntness is one of the few ways to bring Karina back around once she’s done with her tantalizing tangents. “You wouldn’t be here going crazy if you just told me-” 

“Because you’re the one who can’t seem to get it through your thick-ass skull in the first place!” She exclaims, first underneath her shirt that reveals some of the skin on her waist, the ends of her panties now apparent the more her boxer shorts keep slacking off her hips. You can’t afford to stare. You know you can’t. 

The recurring cycle of interest: keeps coming back to haunt you. 

You concluded or accepted the fact years ago that Karina was never meant to be yours. Yet- she would always come to you whenever she had boy problems or wanted your opinion on what she should wear or do with every single one of her crushes she ever had throughout her life, hiding the fact that you wanted to be one of them at some point. 

All those wet dreams, fantasies, the fake situations of romance you’ve deluded yourself into - those kinds of things had to be channeled into something else to fill the space. 

You’ve kept it cool. Sometimes, in between the bleeding weeks, where she’s roaming around the house in the shortest pair of shorts, the tightest of tank tops, the curves way more present when she’s light on the balls of her feet, you eventually broke and resorted to that trusty old lotion and sock combo behind the door to your room. 

With a girl dressed like that, and those tits filling up your brain- 

(You’d be committing perjury holding yourself back for as long as you did.) 

“Okay, for the last time,” says Karina, hands stacked and her feet crossed. “All I ask is for you to just get out of the apartment for once, and have some fun. Is that hard?” 

You shake your head. “No, of course it isn’t.” 

Karina nods, content. She takes off her glasses and puts it on the marble counter, her pretty lashes batting with those violet-black eyes of hers. “There. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?” 

And there she goes, tapping your forearm while you nod in agreement; does a little hop in place like some cute bunny, her shirt loose and flowing and moving everywhere. She’s such a fucking bitch. So shameless. This girl’s attitude will be the death of you. 

She’s shaking her fists up in the air, doing some cha-cha move. The shirt isn’t doing her justice for her fucking breasts. 

Then she leans in, close. Her breath grazes your face and neck. She scrunches her nose while you’re ‘shooing’ her away; aware of the message and her point. Karina then steps back, tying a knot to her shirt, making her figure a lot more apparent. By some crazy form of timing, you turn your body towards her, freezing in place while the shirt molds around her chest, her waist - you’re clenching your jaw and gritting your teeth behind your lips since you wonder if she’s doing it on purpose. 

The imagination. The possibilities. 

“C’mon,” Karina says, reaching for your hand and tugging it, tilting her head up and angrily pouting. For fucks sake, the slightest resistance of pull makes those mounds bounce in place. You’re sick and twisted; she’s the sole reason to blame. “I want you to be my plus one.” 

“Had I not already said yes?” You’re asking, swearing under your breath. The ‘plus one’ role is a direct translation to ‘hey, i’m going to get fucked up tonight, and i want you to be there on standby to carry me home or even dd, okay?’. You remember from past experiences that it also means that being with her is a dice roll of what kind of Karina you have to deal with: the kissy Karina, the pissed-off Karina, the Karina with the ‘carry me home with the eyes that say fuck me until I can’t walk’ attitude. 

Sigh and roll your eyes back, it’s burned into your memory anyway. 

Putting it in layman’s terms wasn’t gonna cut it. Being honest isn’t gonna change her mind. You could get the King of England to threaten her for a price on her head and she’ll still find a way to get it overturned. 

As nicely as you’d want to be, it can only hold for so long. 

Karina isn’t the kind of person to throw you into the fire right away -no, she’s smarter than that. 

“You did,” she says, shaking her head side to side, moving her shoulders along since you’ve put her in a good mood. You’re trying to decode the action to the expression, connecting the dots possible if she’s fucking around or being genuine. Give into the preaching and encouragement that if you did go with her you’d have your fun with someone like her carrying half her energy - okay, you have a type; nothing wrong with that, but still. “Why? Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts already?” 

You have a hand up along with your mouth open; Karina’s a bit dense to think pragmatically. 

“What’s it gonna take with you to get off of your lazy ass and live life? When was the last time you and I went out together and did some dumb shit? That was when you had that thing with- who was that one girl? Winter? Or was it Giselle?” Karina carries on, trailing off with you walking not far from her. 

She pulls the hair tie out of her head - after what it seems to be five minutes since putting it on - her head moves to let the messy locks flow and pool behind her back, stretching her arms out before turning left and into her room. You stop at the doorway when she turns around, arms braced to the frame, smirking. 

“You said you weren’t doing anything, right? And you don’t have work until next week, right? So that automatically means that you’re free for the weekend?” 

“Well, yeah. Don’t forget that you went out with me and Ningning for that boring ass movie. So please, if you stop giving me shit for this, can I at least get ready before we head out?” 

Karina groans. “Ugh, why are you so fucking difficult to work with? I’ve set you up with three of my friends so far and only one of them has gotten close to getting in bed with you.” 

“Maybe I’m complicated,” you say back, turning the other cheek and thinking about that specific time not that long ago when she gave you the double thumbs up before being dragged by Winter onto the dance floor at that club near the school. 

“Complicated people don’t put their hands behind their back and let the girl get all touchy with them,” she teases, stopping in the middle of your doorway, shirt off and all she’s got is that jet black bra with the thinnest straps you’ve ever seen on her collarbones, but she doesn’t stop there: “Might I add that you wanted to try your luck into dating again and- hey. I know that kiss with Winter was the best one you’ve had in a while.” 

Karina smiles at your confused expression, hitting a pressure point. You’ve folded for girls before. She was there for some part of the fun. It’s a weakness; playing to your ideal characteristics and all she has to do is play the matchmaker and watch the magic happen. She got close. Almost. The support was unwavering, but you’re still searching. 

You don’t take long to get yourself situated, putting on whatever essentials you felt was right. Karina took a little bit more time to get ready. You know how she is: every part of her outfit has to be thought-out and well-layered if means of raising the ‘down to get fucked’ meter up past the 100-point scale. Sometimes it takes five minutes, other times it takes hours. 

She walks out of the hallway in a simple outfit. A grey tank top and baggy jeans that nearly cover her feet. Her brown leather jacket was the finishing touch draped around her arm, wrist, and fingers shining in her typical jewelry. 

The makeup was light too, a soft blush applied but the main culprit was her lips - and man, they have no right being that plump. 

“You’re staring.” 

A blink and a smirk here. An eyebrow raised soon after: “Are you saying I’m being rude?” 

“No.” 

It doesn’t register in your mind that she’s all up in your space the next second, holding your breath when she looks up to your chin. 

“Is there something that you want to tell me?” 

“Karina-” 

“C’mon, you’ve thought about me that way at least once-” 

“Fucks sake Karina, you’re delusional. I would never. ” 

She nods with a devilish grin, tilting her chin up, humming. You’re breathing out of your nostrils when she backs away, heading over to the door to put on her shoes. Everything that this woman does makes you reconsider the consequences (but hey, you’ve imagined what it would be like for her to wake up in your bed, wear your clothes she won’t think of returning unless you fuck that bratty attitude off her tongue.) A woman like her who can do it all, and you’re holding her jacket once you and her step out of the apartment and close the door. 

Most people would give their praise and high regard for putting up with her for this long because you’ve held out longer than anyone would have imagined. 

You’ve dealt with her energy all these years, the countless shenanigans that you have gone through with her since high school, and occasions where she shouldn’t have dragged you in but still did anyway. There’s a tolerance that one can only take so much of with Karina, and you always fail at that. (Always.) 

She’s too good to be real. 

Later, she’s on the phone, calling and texting her other friends that she planned on meeting up with, waiting out in the front yard while you’re keeping her close - like what a natural bodyguard would do with their assignment. 

“Are you wearing my jacket?” asks Karina, pinching at the pelt. “I was gonna use that for later.” 

“I look better in it,” you muse. “But I’ll give it back to you later when it gets colder.” 

“I’m gonna need it later for my look.” 

“That look you have right now is gonna get you fucked.” 

Karina gives you the same tilt of her head; this time, there’s a slight twinkle in her eyes that looks like the lightbulb just went off in her head. You’ve lit the match within her or signed someone off to their demise waiting for them in the next hour or so. 

She bites down her smile, her ego inflated. “Guess we can put that as a separate bet between us, then.” 

–

Well. 

Fuck.

You realize right away that going out didn’t seem to be a bad idea after all. 

Plus, it’s only been roughly two hours since Karina convinced you to help her out and tag along so now you’re here: a half-full cup of her go-to and watching the sight of everyone having their fun with one other person or in a group. She, on the other hand, has a guy with her - breaking down the awkward wall and playing the act of softening up with the blaring music. 

It’s a steady groove, music flows in her body so elegantly. 

The ambiance alone pounds your eardrums, eyes occasionally getting blinded by the flashing lights coming from the DJ’s stage, dancing her heart away and letting loose because it’s the weekend. She’s not the only one, too. Her little entourage surrounds her, dancing along and giving their attention to Karina - each one of them attractive and dazzling to look at. Karina was never one for the limelight, but once she’s got something going, it never leaves her. 

You can catch yourself getting sucked in the moment you laid your eyes back on her. 

The law of attraction: embodied by Karina. A phenomenon that you’ve learned happens on a weekend basis. Everyone that knows or has met her for the first time, is automatically influenced by her which doesn’t take much for that to happen. Some are joining in for the vibe, while others are trying to lean into her ear and get her attention that way, let their bodies do the talking, and see if she’s willing. 

Bad news, this girl is. You’re treading dangerous waters carefully. 

Moment by moment, every single guy who tries to approach Karina retreat in dejection and defeat. You can see it in their heads hanging in shame, the slanted lips, some make a last-ditch effort to bring her back to the bar for another drink, only to be stopped with the simple raised hand of hers, friends coming along as reinforcements to stop the inquisitions. 

Her eyes lock on to you, watching from afar. Like a lighthouse; a signal and a haven for her to find comfort in. She motions you to come to the dance floor; and to that, you raise your glass in earnest, insisting that where you are right now is fine. 

You keep staring, sipping. 

She’s fixed up her top again to where the curves are much more present than usual. 

So you decide to down your bearings, hoping that the thought of Karina could be swallowed down with ease; her damned smile, head tilts,  the swaying of her body (along with bouncing in some places without a care in the world) to the upbeat tunes until she’ll decide she can’t do it anymore. 

At some point, she’ll have to come get you to join. 

And you’ve accepted that it will happen sooner or later. 

Your shoulder gets bumped by one of the people making their way through on accident, diverting your attention for a second. Then- 

Karina’s out of your line of sight. 

Next thing you know- 

She taps your shoulder, tugging on your shirt. 

“Hey-” 

The words you were going to say were: ‘hey, what gives?’ or ‘something wrong?’; but for some reason, you’re left in a stun lock - a trance. There’s also another thing that you realize right away when she has her arms slithering around your middle and up your shoulders. 

She looks around as you track her head movements, checking for something - ensuring that the coast is clear - you can start to get an idea of what she’s trying to do. Your brows furrow, thrown off by Karina’s stoic expression. It’s impossible to see or understand what’s going through her head, but she nicks her head back towards the dance floor, and you instantly get the message. 

“Need you in here, now,” she mouths, but you tilt your head down to hear her repeat it. She then pulls onto the floor while you’re also surveying the crowd, seeing if there was anything fishy. 

Karina guides your hands around her waist, noticing her fingers twitch as they graze your forearm, hinting that something was off. You’ve been near her before, but not like this. She then bumps into a few people standing behind her, prompting you to pull her back towards you - pressing her body, hand now to your neck, chin resting on top of her head- 

You can deduce that this is not her usual self - the reverberating bass pounding into your bodies and hers serving as this sort of proxy to dance more and think less. 

She scratches the ends of your hair right above the nape, irises burning into your face. You assume that this was the favor that she was talking about: going to the club with her and having a good time? Why the fuck did she have to make it sound so complicated in the first place?

“Stay close to me, okay? There’s this guy that’s been trailing us since we got here. I just need some time - help me out, please.” 

You look over your shoulder, Karina centers herself with her hands cupped around your neck, peering over as well. The strobe light blinds your vision for a second before turning back. “Wait, how can you be sure?” 

“Trust me,” she tells you, expression flat, serious. “You’ve got a good sixth sense about these kinds of things anyway, you’ll know.” 

“But-” 

“Isn’t that the guy you mentioned just now-” 

Karina’s quick to get a finger between your lips, darts her eyes out then onto you. The indication alone confirms all of your suspicions. You can’t even see the poor guy, not when the flashing lights are giving you nothing but snapshots amongst the silhouettes and shapes in the dark. “Look, be cool. You’re safe with me. If he gets close I’ll get in–” 

“No wait- it’s fine. Just leave him alone,” she butts in, leaning her head against your chest so she can hide her face. “This is already good, okay? You did great.” 

You cradle the side of her head when she looks up, tongue caught between her teeth slightly. “No, I want to see what was his deal-” 

“Can you shut the fuck up already?” 

“Karina, I-” 

She pulls your head into hers: locking lips, derailing your train of thought. 

You make a sound in her mouth in response to the confusion, but it stops the bickering you two were doing a few seconds ago. She could feel you pull away, but leans her head up back for more, claiming your lips through the kiss; you swear that you and her aren’t that drunk yet. 

It shuts you up, alright. A moment of reprieve that doesn’t give you any time to think because fuck, this girl is making you second guess every single choice you’ve made in your life up till this point, wondering if you’re ever going to take your golden chance or give Karina an earful when you and her get back home later. 

Your fingers dig into the dips of her lower back, her hands on your cheeks, overloading your senses with her lips, giving you hard teeth and a swiping tongue - no time to think or catch up. 

The rest of the world fades out from your head, nothing between you and Karina putting everything on the line in terms of her feelings - almost like the roles had been reversed with her struggling to believe you had a thing for her and you letting your actions do all the talking.

You’re not thinking about the amount of regret you’ll have once all of this is over. Friends just don’t kiss each other out of the blue. No. Karina fed you the false belief that you’d do anything she’d ask you to do, which is why you’re doing this with her. You think this is all a dream, but you sense everything; that diminishes the present thought right away. 

You’ll give as much passion back to Karina, because it’s what you would do for her regardless:

Follow her lead, and listen to what she says; there’s always something with her that you’re blindly agreeing to. 

Karina pulls away for a moment to breathe, next thing you know her tongue slips past against yours, and your grip on her body becomes a lot less pleasant since she’s unleashed that craving hidden within. 

You touch her teeth, smiling. Her forehead gently rubs against yours, breaking the kiss, when you notice it in your peripheral: 

A girl with a hand to her mouth.

One girl next to her with her hand wound up in her hair, in complete shock. 

The third girl behind the two nodded in approval with a sly smirk. 

Yeji, Ryujin, and Yujin: Karina’s other cute little trio, watching their lovely friends finally have their moment together. 

You look back at Karina, rubbing her bottom lip with her finger, internalizing the taste of you. 

Then the realization settles in. 

“That guy backed away from us,” she tells you, “but I gotta say, you’ve outdone yourself.” 

You glance over to see Karina’s trio watch as said guy turns his back into the crowd, retreating away. 

“What’s the matter? Speechless?” she asks again, finger happily dancing along your skin, and your hands aren’t moving off her body. You’ve never been shy with her, except this one time: right now. 

“Never with you,” you answer, matching her smug expression. “Never.” 

Karina hides her true intention again for a second, knowing that it’ll wither away the more she acts like this. Right, she can say one thing, though her actions are so easy to read from the minute she’s invaded your personal space. 

This girl is bad news in everything.

So you hold your gaze with her, wondering, connecting the dots. Speculating how long she’s been planning for this to happen, to be like every other guy that’s ever tried to get her in their bed or between those legs. Even so, she knows you’re not simple to break, and that’s where she’s got you. “I knew you had to be sure somehow, just didn’t think you’d go this far.” 

“Desperate times, desperate measures.” Karina eyes cross slightly as she stares at you, thumb grazing along your chin. “You were taking too long for my liking.” 

Liking? Surely not. 

There’s no possible way she could-

“What the hell does that mean?” You ask, staring back, tongue tip between your teeth. Your breathing starts to shallow. 

Karina leans into the side of your head, amidst the noise of the speakers and funneling her voice well in your ear canal. “It doesn’t make sense to me, you know. How we’ve known each other for this long, and we haven’t thought of even trying it at least once.” 

She knows where she’s going with this - all those times you’ve ogled at her hoping that she wouldn’t notice - or all of those times where you’ve talked about everything that had to involve life at any given point. You’d hoped that you dodge the question for a little longer. 

Karina’s friends managed to crack it out of you a while back, remembering it well. Her touch on your body has gone gentler, never breaking her gaze on you.

“How come you and I have never hooked up with each other?” 

You freeze. Feel the warmth spread across your cheeks; it’s an immediate catch, and you were praying silently that this was a dream. 

Exposed. Is what you are. 

Though Karina doesn’t falter here. Her eyes shimmer in the dim lighting. Wistful. You’re giving her enough time to figure out where your head was leveled at; like she would understand whether you wanted this or not. 

“Honestly, we could’ve.” You admit, with a sharp inhale. Hoping that the answer alone is enough for her sake. “Like- god, it would’ve been so easy. I wanted-” 

“Is it because you and I are just friends? That’s complete bullshit if that’s what you’re sticking with. I’ve seen you look at me that way before, or with my back turned; goes to show that you don’t have what it takes to get what you want, but I do.” 

You pull her close, and that gets her flustered. 

Both of your hands are on her face, leaning on her, stopping right at the lips, watch her eyelids flutter in anticipation. The thrumming of your heartbeat pounds between your eardrums, until she looks at you dead in the eyes, sliding her hand lower and lower, quirks her eyebrows once her fingers lay land over your pants. 

Your throat bobs, swallowing on nothing. The lightbulb sets off in her head. 

“Would you look at that? Oh my. Honey, you’re just like the rest of them. Try to deny it all you want, but you can’t get the thought of using my body to get yourself off. And guess what? I’d let you.” 

She’s got a key charm in being forward. And you find it to be so fucking sexy; saying things like that with no care for who hears, keeping it blunt and straight to the point; she could talk her way out of a speeding ticket and she really could. Karina was simply being herself, you could point the culprit in the alcohol or maybe her friends, but you’re still caught in her crosshairs and the window of escape is closing fast. 

You don’t do anything to resist the pair of hands at your neck and the seat of your pants - or the fact that she’s yanking your head back to meet hers and you hear all her friends squeal at the mere sight of Karina getting her chance. Everything about this is sensational, a new thing to adapt and learn by the minute. 

Here, when she lets you pull away: “You can do better than that, sweetie. Tell. Me.”

You’ll tell her everything that she wants to hear: how you’ve had a crush on her since high school, how you’ve managed to stay by her side after all these years, the fact that you couldn’t jeopardize what you already had. Besides, the risk of losing her as a lover and a friend was too much to bear, that she isn’t the kind of girl to have sex with because you love her and that will be the end of it all. 

Sooner than later, you’ll tell her that. So to suffice, you say: “I could’ve, believe me. We just never did.” 

From that alone, Karina shakes her head, neither rejecting nor accepting. Her wrists slack behind your neck, bring her waist closer until you’re able to lace your fingers around your arm. You’re nervous at what might be going through her head right now, gnawing your inner lip to keep your mind occupied. 

She looks you dead in the eyes, a twinkle behind them: full of inspiration, desire, hunger, want. 

You kiss her again, because you believe that’s the only thing right to do. “How bout this,” she says, giddy and sultry, “Why don’t we find this out for ourselves?” 

–

This wasn’t the first time you’ve been in this position. 

And certainly, it won’t be the last, either. 

You’ve put up with Karina’s bullshit for as long as you could remember: from carrying her on your back after a long night out to those times of sleeping on the couch since she complained her bed was too stiff and decided to use yours. You can think of one instance of every emotion she has, nothing but fun memories in those moments. 

However, you’ve never been like this with her. 

Until tonight. 

You catch yourself failing miserably in keeping your guard up with Karina. Not when she’s taking every red light as her chance to kiss you in the car, her hand sliding under your shirt and grazing your pants shamelessly. Not when you’ve pressed her tits up against the elevator door and flipped her around kissing you once more so that the camera guy can see, hear her giggle and hum at this new and improved version of you that she’s created. 

It’s all a rush for her, the way you can’t let go of her past the door, pin her hips against the kitchen counter, peel off the layers of clothes starting with her jacket, grasp her breast held captive by the tight holds of her tank top. You raise her on the marble so that she can match your height - make her feel taller, build that ego up, give her the false impression that she’s the one having fun.

Most definitely on the fact that you’ve got her tank top off in record time, gawking at the immeasurable amount of skin along those luscious valleys you’ve classified as her breasts. 

Karina’s head goes sideways, inquisitive. She sees you have your sights set on the prize, all within arms reach. “That’s cute, you’ve been eyeing these babies ever since I moved in, god you’re not that hard to whirl around.” You have your fun at her neck while her fingers are working fast at your pants, sliding her hand underneath the elastic of your boxers- 

“Jesus baby,” she husks, appalled with the curl of your fingers along the length. She thought the bulge earlier was already apparent enough - oh how wrong she was, looking down at the newly claimed prize. “Since when the fuck were you hiding this from me? This is not the same cock I hear you jerk yourself off with now and then-” 

“Just one of my few surprises,” you cut her off, jolting your hips forward when the grip around your girth gets a tad bit tighter. “Believe me when I say this, you ain’t seen nothing yet.” 

Karina wets her lip, biting. 

She’s getting used to the new feeling of this. Of you. Her small hand holds you in place, trying to find the right words to describe or end with. You’re trying to see how far she would go - how much could she take; then, she drives another nail into the coffin: “Fuck. You’re like- really big.” 

You grin, since that’s got enough weight in the words to inflate your confidence through the roof. She twists her hand around while you’re peppering her face with your lips, over and over and over, until she’s completely broken you down and all signs seem to be pointing in that direction. 

You hear her hum in approval, sighing in relief, whisper these praises laced with your name. And when she says your name, genuinely, it comes off in a moment of seriousness - hallowed even. 

She’ll make you plummet into the depths of hell, or raise you to the golden pearly gates above; no matter the difference, you’re falling for one of two ways with her. 

It’s also putting you in a bad position because you know her experiences, what she wants, the mere basics of it. You pull her hips as she twists her hand by reflex, like it has a mind of its own, pumping your length. 

You hate how good she is at working you up. The wonders in sleight of hand: where to curl her fingers, how fast she should handle the strokes, the press of her thumb down on your tip, studying it while trying to figure out where to even start. 

“It’s not even fair at this point,” she tells you, sly smirking while you see her eyes fall halfway, softly laughing as she sees your knees buckle and hit the cabinet beneath her because you can’t respond properly. “You’re gonna take care of me so well. Using this to fuck my brains out.” 

Her smile goes even wider when your head falls back involuntarily, giving Karina the window to leave some marks of her own across your chest. 

Her ankles rest at the back of your thighs, leaning forward to get her other hand on your throbbing shaft, paying attention to your balls, weaving them between her fingers, dividing and conquering to no avail, to turn your mind into a puddle. 

“It’s gonna look so pretty in my ass,” Karina whispers into your ear, leaving more kisses behind, making you feel like you’re on cloud nine. “I bet I could make you cum with just my mouth, my hands. Maybe I’ll give you a tease, spread my legs and let you slip inside right here, since you’re so fucking hard that you could knock me out with this cock, hm?” 

Oh, what in the actual fuck- 

Right out of the gates, this girl is forcing you to be head over heels - to submit and bend to her will; she knows what to preach, her words alone fulfilling every single fantasy you have in the book, to take what’s hers and feed you that overpowering urge above all: to simply ruin her.

Unpredictability is something that Karina takes pride in: going slow at one point, then faster the next, dragging and shortening your breath in every stroke until the pressure becomes too much. 

She nods at her handiwork, sliding off the counter and pulling you by the dick across the apartment. That alone makes you snap and pin her - grab her by the arm and spin her around - press and bend her body over on the couch for a quick second. 

You pull her by the hair and shift her head; forcing her to lean up for a kiss. Flush your hips with hers where the weight of you might make her crumble right away. 

You almost feel bad about it, but that thought gets quickly diminished, because Karina knows how much she can handle. She wants to be taken rough, split apart, worship her body like it's some new testament you’ll reflect on in adoration, have her cunt fucked so thoroughly by you that she’ll come crawling back craving for more. 

“How long have you been waiting for this?” Karina grins into your cheek, running her hand up over yours greedily grasping at her tit. “All those slutty things I kept telling you, seems like you wanted some of the fun as well, huh?” 

Okay, she’s not wrong at all. You’ll bank that on the fact that she has most definitely heard you jerk yourself off at night, or the fact you’ve seen her walk out the shower naked but pretend to look the other way. With all those stories of her escapades, part of you wanted to join along now and then. 

So you give her mercy and lift yourself off from her, watch her glance over her shoulder when you’re following her to your room, fingers to the latch of her bra, the garment slipping off and falling to the floor. Her back is hypnotic to look at, and you find yourself chasing after her for another go. 

“This is gonna be bad for you,” she giggles, holding her by the door frame while your hands have a mind of their own, freely roaming across the canvas of her perfect body, sliding up and down and feeling the untouched territory yet to be claimed. “Can’t even stay away from me even for two seconds.” 

She sticks her ass out, dips her head down when you get a hold of her mound, the flesh alone having its little weight to it, graze your thumb over her nipples, pinch it, kiss the back of her neck, and leave another mark. You are going to take your sweet time with her; use your teeth, your mouth, your cock. Anything and everything in your arsenal to make Karina yours. 

It starts with the letdown. Now, we’re at a shuffle - a waltz, a sloppy waltz - until Karina spins herself around while you settle at the edge of your bed, hike up to your hips, rest them there, forearms on shoulders, kissing you once more. 

A gentle moan slips out of her mouth when you finally start indulging yourself in her fabulous tits. Seeing out the amount of fun you are going to have: licking, kissing, biting along the perfect skin. Your mind can’t seem to register the fact that your hands were made for holding them; the fit alone, it feels so nice. 

Fuck, it’s even better once you realize she’s so responsive to the touch. That alone prompts you to add oil to the fire and drop the intimate act for something more primal, hungrier. She does this little shimmy with her upper body, moving her breasts around for your mouth to be caught in between them like two mushy pillows molding around your face. 

Her hand slips under and grips around you again, the friction causing you to bite down on her skin. A fair trade at least - a two-way system - you touch her, she touches you. 

“God, I think I know why you held yourself back with me for this long,” her words heavy and just coherent enough to understand, “maybe I convinced myself that I couldn’t handle you.” 

You laugh into her breasts, her hand on the back of your head, tugging while she hears the hums. 

She sighs, relieved. Like there’s a weight finally off her shoulders. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?” One second later, she pushes your head away, jaw slack, eyes clouded with lust, drunk on the taste of her skin, your hand sliding lower and lower from her waist, the warm surface getting even hotter when you reach her panties, grazing the lace. 

“It’s unreal, I don’t even have to tell you to say anything-” she sucks in a breath at the feeling of your fingers soaking up her slick, swipe your thumb upwards across her clit. “You win baby. I’ll let you have your way. I promise.” She tilts your head up for a kiss, grining her hips down, forcing the groan from you down her throat. “I can give you everything you ever dreamed of having.” 

You don’t even know where to fucking start. 

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” you say, hitting the tip of your nose against hers; get a light-hearted laugh out. “I’ll make you regret them.” 

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you tell me what’s going through your head right now? With me on top? I’m all ears.” 

It’s even worse when you see her hand slithering down from her tits. Lower. Lower. The influence already affects you when she brings your hand around your cock, slowly tugging along as she treats herself to such a sight. 

That said sight of Karina playing with herself; sighing, murmuring, tilting her head slightly as her breath shudders at the sound of you groaning whilst doing the same thing with yourself. You see the damage, the marks, the places where you’ll leave more bruises than before. 

You just have to- fucking- look. You have her in such a state that you have never imagined yourself being in, and now that’s realized right in front of your eyes. 

So you tell her exactly how you’ll fuck her. What position she likes the most, where does she want you to take her, how much you’ll twist her mind into becoming more desperate for you and your cock, when you’ll make her cum, rail that poor cunt of hers until she’s sobbing in the filthiest fucking mess possible. 

“I’d be sinning,” you tell her, admittedly. “If I didn’t say that you’ve never imagined me fucking your tits unlike now. Better yet-” 

“And let me guess, you were hoping to God that there was at least somebody out there who could fulfill that desire for you, right?” Karina interrupts, hand still in between her legs, watching you shamelessly jerk yourself off. She sighs, “So original. I think you deserve more than that.” 

Uhm- well- okay, yeah. 

“What, too weird?” You ask right after, breathless, your shaft throbbing around your fingers a tad early for your taste. “Ouch. I get it. It’s fine.” 

“No, no, no,” Karina sighs, licking her lips. Her eyes shine through yours, a supernova unraveling. “I think we can settle with this. You fix me, I fix you. Deal?” 

Who’s to say that there was a chance Karina had the same vision as you? 

–

It’s a freeze-frame moment when the realization hits you for the first time. 

You’re seeing, but still having a tough time believing:

The sight of your cock being swallowed up by her tits, tongue laving at the tip, her hands compressing her chest inwards so that she can hold you there - focus on her lips and listen to the soft moans all lovely and adoring. Your poor cock: leaking with precum mixed with spit and when it’s all slicked up, you’ll put her on her back and make her press her breasts together, slip right back inside the heat and press into the friction. A gift from the heavens, you think. God, you’ll praise and worship them for as long as you live. 

“Shit,” you barely manage, rasping, like it’s some epiphany, as if this was new for her. “Karina, that’s incredible.” 

Her eyes dart at you, lashes flickering. The subtlety alone is near cute, even when her fingers dig into the skin of her tits, pinching at the nipples, tongue hanging out as some of the spit starts to drip over into the cleavage. 

She lowers her mouth right above the tip, seals it around your thick cockhead lightly. “Really?” 

You clench your jaw a little tighter, “God,” you huff, tensing up your hips for the thrust, fucking into the pressure, stare as she moves her tits downward to meet in the middle. “Fuck, yes.” 

“Don’t you suppose that this is good for me as well?” She then asks, dazed. 

“Why- fuck. Why the fuck are you asking me?” You rasp, tone gentle the next second. “Judging how hard you’re pressing, I hope that you won’t let that go to your head.” Karina’s face lights up with excitement, tilts her head down into your hand, smirking as she hears the stable breathing. Her brown eyes - like her tits - are soft, easy; her plump bottom lip sweeps the head of your cock once again. 

She hums as she stares. Chuckles at the mere buck of your hips. Cute. 

“Hmmm, maybe I will,” she accepts. 

You scoff, mixed with relief and with disbelief because Karina’s tits are fucking unreal and to top it all off she’s sucking you off while your cock is held captive between them; though you’re stuck in a hypnosis and that’s the only sensible reaction of Karina that you could give her. “Karina,” you’re seething, “Jesus, Karina-” 

She moves her chest in this side-to-side motion, wiggling her tits like it’s some shameless dance move, proposing. “What’s the matter, baby? All that waiting and you can’t hold it together?” She asks, arms moving inward with her elbows at the bottom line - her drool dribbling down her tongue and into her cleavage in this messy waterfall. “You wanna cum in between my fucking tits, hm? Right in the middle? Paint them white over these red marks you kissed all over-” 

The sound ripping from your throat is an indication of the first layer of your inner wall being broken down. It’s just for show, but she’s taking it literally. She has a knack for talking filthy. Here you are losing it. Her hand holds you by the base and pumps you - rubs your balls for good measure, pushing, soothing, encouraging - and Karina’s eyes shimmer while her mouth shifts, something more shrewd, vicious. 

“You fit so well here,” she gasps, “God, I wonder how it’ll feel when you stuff up my tiny pussy-” 

Your head falls back and you’re swearing. Clenching your fists while your elbows start to slide back. 

“Karina,” you say again, because it’s easier to speak than think. “I’m- I’m,” 

Her lips pout, shaking her head, disappointed. “No. Don’t,” she sighs, “Don’t you dare,” she says next, “please, I want it inside, inside me - in my pretty little pussy, make me feel good, so full, want your - mmm,” you see her eyes close, biting her lip at the idea, whining, “you’ve dreamt of cumming inside me - breeding me, knocking me up for fun-” 

This girl is something else - good on you to match up to her craziness - and you’re biting your lip along with her as well, watching her hand slip under to her clit while she holds your dick between her tits, thighs shaking as she spreads - it’s ingrained into your head, the sight of it. She wants you to breed her, or whatever is remotely close to cumming on her - and Karina will keep on asking for your input of all these things she’s projecting, leave it up to interpretation before acting on it. You’ve never thought you’d see yourself be like this, let alone have Karina act this way all for you. You’ll keep pondering about it long after you’ve had your fill - or her having her fill - it could go both ways for all you know. 

Still. The girl keeps moving. 

“Oh my fuck,” you slip out, different sayings all preaching the same message, “that feels so fucking incredible,” which isn’t enough to describe the present state of things nor does it fulfill the bare minimum of everything either but for Karina’s ego and with her smirk - because that’s how it always was, just feels right. 

“You’ve never said anything about it, but you’re obsessed,” Karina taunts. “This mouth, these tits, they’re all for you - you could have me any way you want,” she keeps her hands moving while her head sways from one end to the other, sighing as her tongue stops at her teeth. “Look at you. I’ve never seen you so desperate to fuck a slut like me and claim her like she’s yours.” 

She presses inward with her tits. You feel your shaft swell even harder. A lift up, then a drop. Repeat. You’re tensing every muscle in your waist as hard as you can. 

“So?” You ask weakly, huffing. “So what, okay- shit. You-” 

Next thing you do is pick up right where you left off. Thrusting into her tits and feel your pace fluctuate to the point that it’s gotten so dirty as you’d imagine fucking her cunt could get, hips smacking skin on skin, into the softness of her breasts, wet sounds and gasps let out through every slap. 

“Right there, cum,” she mutters, irises foggy, straight out of your wet dreams, leaning her neck forward with her jaw hung open so that you can fuck yourself straight into her mouth, look down at your wobbling hips - throbbing and twitching as she drinks in the sight of you nearing that edge. “Fuck my tits like that, cum all over them, wanna feel, wanna hear how much you want me.” 

You say her name, or at least try to. The sound incoherent, broken, and apologetic; just downright humbling. The best thing you can do is make good on your part. Your cock is so deep in between her tits, the messy slick and warmth enveloping you wholly; fingers doing the little adjustments, a rough measure of how her pussy will wreck your dick later - dragging her breasts across the sensitive edges, the lightest touch of her fingers at the top, flicking the underside. It’s too much, too fast, too- 

“God, Karina-” 

“Oooh,” she beams, ecstatic. “Oh my god.” 

Soon you feel yourself spilling everything in the tightest spot of her breasts, mouth slacking as she watches in awe of your cock tensing and erupting your release all over the skin of her chest, her throat. Her chest heaves along with the pulsing, shaking her tits soon after, gently pumping out the remnants of white, squeezing. It’s unholy what she’s doing, eyes glassy and spit slathered across the space, face flushed and chin dripping with your cum; and she lowers herself to where your shaft is in line with her face, pursing her lips - like some money shot - full and getting an appetizer of what’s to come. You ghost your hand to the back of her head, cautiously - the hand between her legs treats to her clit, the other wrapped around your shaft and smacking your dick on her cheek, so it’s a definite premonition come to life: her on her knees and dreamily staring at your dick while she’s soaking up your white hot mess. 

“Aww, well that’s too bad. Couldn’t hold it at the first go. Shame on you,” mutters Karina, grinning and letting out a soft pitiful laugh. 

“You’re fucking insane.” 

“And what are you gonna do about it?” she asks, patting your ass in comfort. She massages her tits right in front of you, the webbing of cum spread across the inner parts of her mounds, in the gap of the heavy curves. “I can’t believe you- God, you came so fucking much.” 

You keep on staring while you’re fighting for the last bits of consciousness left - like if you hit the canvas in a boxing match, and your coach helped you up with counting: one, two, three, four, up, up, up, up; you’ll try to focus on the breathing, take your time, continue to blink while the rest of the world fades out from your vision and all that’s there in the middle is Karina’s sluttiest form fully culminated. That’s all you see: the right angles and curves of her breasts, well sculpted and detailed that you’ll keep observing in reverence. It’s so much to process, the first glance at the scene of the crime, all over Karina, unreal and cute and just- perfect. You’re not dreaming, the nerves in your body overloaded with stimulation to properly conclude that Karina was purely made as a vessel to take limitless loads of cum in and all over her outright beautiful body. 

“Well-” You sigh heavily, a weight lifted off your shoulders. “I’m kinda- ugh. Yeah.” 

But Karina still has you on the palms of her hands, deciding what’s enough on her terms. 

Because one second later, she spreads your legs more and slides her tongue up from your balls and upwards against the underside, then to the tip. She giggles at the feeling of you snapping to attention from the contact, and you sharply inhale at the sensation, ready for more. 

“You should know that you have to deal with me the right way,” adds Karina. “This was just the start.” She then glances down to her fingertips, picking up the cum smeared all over her chest and licks it up, eyes fixated on you with interest while alternating the treatment of her lips to her fingers, to your cock. “Still speechless about my performance?” 

You roll your eyes, flaring your nostrils. “Do you do this with every guy you get in bed with?” 

Karina laughs at that, batting her lashes. “Not really. But if you’re gonna shut me up, make sure it’s with your cock.” 

Her brows light up in excitement when rake your fingers into her hair, pull her back, at the point where she surprisingly gasps. You flick her hand away from your cock, notice her mouth drop lower, expecting you to do as she says: plug one hole up for the time being. 

You don’t do that, though. Your mouth finds hers and it fills the space for the moment. 

A moment where the intimacy reaches the sweetest. In all the right ways, you’re defying her wishes through actions rather than words. Karina forces a high-pitched hum down your throat, clashing her teeth into your face, catching your lip in the midst, pulling. You’re sure she wants to see you hurt - she’s already done that - two can play at that game. 

Your hands slot themselves at the slides of her face, gripping, eager mouth keeping you focused on the task at hand, and it’s second nature when her arms wrap around your neck, lifting her up from the floor. She won’t stop giggling, laughing; the noises a spell of their own, cursing you - an unsaid promise that you’ll give to her even when you’re flipping her around back on the mattress. 

The weight of you two creaks the springs when Karina rolls herself over and finds herself on top of you. You feel her slick folds glide up your leg, the stickiness mixing in with your skin and tainting. Her conquest doesn’t stop there, until she settles the heat over your cock, grinding, the ache alone enough to make you writhe in wanting. 

She flips her head over to one side, breaking the kiss, falling back down for more. Her eyes and yours are both out of focus, panting heavily. She’s fucking unbelievable, a red herring that you had all the wrong ideas for, finally seeing the truest form of her nature being awakened. 

You say something remotely close to your thoughts. 

She looks at you, astounded. 

Sighs. 

You feel her hand cradle your head tenderly. 

Meets your forehead with hers and smiles. 

Tracing a finger to your jaw, pinching the skin soothingly. 

“You’re going to ruin me,” Karina whispers, kissing your cheek. “I hoped it was you to be the last one I try my luck with.” 

You close your eyes because it’s the truth.

Your hand shoots up for the headboard behind you, gripping. She helps grab the other arm and pins them together, captures your lips once more and it’s too intoxicating to fight against. She continues to grind her hips against yours, feel the heat of her cunt and her folds glide above you.

The teasing is insufferable, feeling her warmth wash you over. 

“I’ve waited long enough.” 

The words are at the tip of your tongue, but they won’t come out. 

“I’ve always wanted it to be you,” she carries on, softly laughing as you’re crumbling underneath her weight. “And now, you- and this cock, is mine. Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine.” 

She dips your cock in, sinking, slowly, the inches getting swallowed up in increments. You moan in response, kissing her collarbone. You’ve imagined what it would be like, prayed that one day you’d get the glorious chance to be inside this wonderful heat. It’s something else, like a long reward that you’ve sought out for but it's the fact that Karina’s tight cunt is practically making you choke where you could die and be happy with it. 

“Jesus fuck,” you groan, the fibers in your body tensing. She just sighs, hoists her hips up, and sinks back down again. 

She does it again - and again, and again. The movement alone; painstakingly slow and increasing with every passing second. Her hips seizing yours in place and fucking you like that’s all she’s meant for; like this opportunity was a once-in-a-lifetime moment and she’s going to take every advantage of it. As if she feared you telling her to forget everything about tonight and move on like it’s normal. 

“It’s not even fair, the way you make me feel,” sighs Karina, yielding to the pleasure, head dipping down. “I should’ve known - fuck, I really should’ve known. Why didn’t we do this sooner?” 

Your hips match hers in a dance, unable to answer. Unwilling to, actually. 

Because you’d rather save the words for later and live in the present, her body consuming you at a rate that shouldn’t be humanly possible. The way she rides on top of you, head and shoulders and arms invading every corner of your being, reigning fire. It’s so fucking good - her cunt, the warmth, the feeling, it’s impossible to think straight and there’s a part of you in the corner of your mind that’s jumping for joy. Walls tearing down from within, freeing you. 

If you’re not careful, it’ll be even worse when you’re guzzling your cum into her tight pussy before she even has had the chance to fuck your cock properly. She’s holding you hostage, bounding your hands with hers - a beautiful punishment to undertake. The moans and sighs alternate, complimenting one another as she continues to jut her hips forward and back - back and forward. “I hate you,” she’s saying, “I hate how you had the fucking guts to not let me try.” 

God, it really is pathetic for you. Karina figuratively digging her fingers into every nook and cranny of your brain, making you want - want to lose it, to be desperate, to be the version of you that’s capable enough to go beat-for-beat with her. The groove of your index and thumb settle at her waist, picking up the pace, use the drag of her cunt across your cock, but Karina grasps your jaw, mouthing an ‘ah, ah, ah’ as a consequence for your eagerness. 

Slamming her ass back down, she chokes an utterance out of you, “Fucking- Karina-” 

And Karina hums, letting her lower half do the work. “What’s wrong?” she asks, all innocent and sweet that doesn’t cover her sinful act. Perfectly calculated in her head of how she’s working you up. “What are you gonna do? Fuck me?” 

She took the words right out of your mouth. 

She finally managed to break you. 

You’re not nice about it, either: breaking the little restraint from her hands, hooking your arms underneath her shoulders, turn her over and yank her hips back to yours. 

The gasps. You want more. 

Karina tests the waters again when she breaks free from your grasp, forcing you to push her down on the mattress by the head, claw your fingers into her scalp, raise her up to flush her waist and hold her mouth open, taking account of the newly formed arch in her back - the perfect fucking bell curve. 

She sighs again. Not in shock, no. In relief. Satisfied, ecstatic, excited, as if she’s finally getting what she wants - for you to have enough and put her in her place. “God, yes. Fuck yes. Fucking do it. Do it! C’mon-” 

You slip yourself inside and shut her up for a second, feel her walls clamp around your throbbing member. “Like this?” You ask, snarling into her ear cuff, pulling her by the hair where she won’t even complain about the pain. “Want me to be like this with you from now on?” 

“You have no idea,” Karina says, nodding frantically, the arch of her hips moving backward against you. “How much I needed this from you.” 

Pushing your buttons and limits is what she does best. 

So you grab her by the throat, give a sloppy placement of your mouth at the corner of her lips, forcing her to look up and back. The angle where your cock is embedded rips her apart at the first slam. You’re going to fuck her. You’re going to fuck her ruthlessly. Fuck her cunt so bad like you’ve always wanted to the day she accidentally flashed herself at you and the image of her figure burned into your memory. 

She keens when you bottom out completely, filling her up to the brim with your cock. Stokes coming along easier and easier as the claps of skin start to reverberate around the walls of your bedroom -  thrusting up into her cunt and not giving a fuck about the rest. 

Karina tugs at your hair, finding a place to hold herself together, hips stilling and moving and eventually freezing. You’re up to the plate now, dishing out the real work far better than her. 

You are going to break her. Pound her ass. Bounce her cunt all over your dick, listen to how her breaths shudder and choke in the stale air with every upstroke. Your mind is working double time - trying to figure out how much she can take, where are her sensitive spots and capitalize on the weak points. 

The hints are in her body, you take that into account. She takes in every inch with her cunt, eyes fluttering shut, sighing in complete adoration. Willing to let you pour every ounce of your being onto her; these feelings, these frustrations. A place where you can let your imaginations run wild, her body a sacred temple built to ruin, in all of the harmonious sounds that come out of her mouth, occasional screams to let you know what you’re doing is right. 

When she cradles the side of your head again, staring forward at the mirror placed behind your bed along the wall, she grins, watching you place a kiss along her throat, leaning her head back to deepen the angle, runs a hand over yours, treating itself to one of her tits. “Baby, you can never have enough of me.” 

That earns her a firm grasp of your arms, pulling her closer. She shouldn’t even be able to speak, let alone have this much fun. You push her down back on the bed, hands sliding down her waist, stopping at the indent of her hips, dragging your cock out and yanking her ass back in. “Do you ever fuck your girls like this?” 

“Are you always this talkative during sex?” 

“Not exactly,” her breath hitches when you bend over the swell of her ass, swipe your finger above her clit to tease. “I’m eager- ah, eager to see,” she bites down her moan when you spread her sopping pussy lips apart, feel her leak even more on your cock, “how far you’d go-” 

You’re getting there, that’s for sure. 

Now you’re wondering what else you can do with her hips up and knees spread wide. 

“Stay right there,” you say, pressing a hand down her spine to deepen the arch, her ass getting bigger at your waist, palm full of fine skin, “and let’s see.” 

Her fast shriek registers a second after you smack the surface, the sound mimicking the crack of lightning. 

You slap her ass, impale yourself back in, watch as your cock disappears from your view. 

Karina’s face dives into the sheets, muffling her scream. 

“Big mistake,” you growl, seeking your fingers into the roots of her hair, snatching. You spank her again. 

And again. 

And again. 

The punishment and reward: you smack her ass, fuck into her, feel her body blossom with heat and flushed with crimson; handfuls of sheets or pillows or anything that’s within reach. Her cunt gushes even more, the throaty moans hiccuping as her body convulses more because of the blowback, and she’s still smiling.

“God- oh my God,” Karina pants, fingers back between her legs as she throws her ass back now, completing the motion. “So forceful.” 

You cup the sides of her waist, press your fingers over the blotches of red, skin rippling each passing second your hips flush with hers. The sounds of the smacks and the gentle creaks of the bed are already erotic enough that the spanking in between is just the cherry on top. 

All that Karina has to do in this situation is to simply ride out the wave of pleasure, body slightly jaded through every firm impact of your cock weaving itself inside her cunt, the vice closing in every millisecond. 

“-so good. You’re so good,” spits Karina, eyes cinched shut; a sharp inhale when you reach that spot, body seizing. “K-keep using my cunt, just like that- wanna feel your dick ruck up inside-” 

You’re grasping at her neck, deepening the angle. You want to melt into her, to feel everything. To fill her mind up with nothing but just you. 

“You did this to me,” you grit, pulling her back on your cock; listen to her stutters for an answer. “This is all on you.” 

But she giggles, head swiveling forward and face first into the pillows, but her wailing still breaks through. She comes back up for air soon after. Whatever she can get, “The plan, baby,” she’s telling you, “It was all part of the plan. Always.” 

That twists your mind in more ways than one. Her mouth, her hands, her body, all within arm's reach. You grasp at her tit again, drive your cock back into her cunt, her moans inching up an octave, and the shimmer coming out of the corner of Karina’s eye gives you all the more reason to keep going. 

“I’ll break you until you’ve had enough,” she breathes out, and her face contorts to something remotely pained, “please, for the love of fuck- don’t stop bouncing my pussy on your- fuck!” 

It hits you when you’ve finally worked Karina to stop talking. Breathless. Heaving. You sigh out of rapture, the feeling washing over you like you got dunked in water. A new enlightenment fully realized - the full manifestation of her creation, and now she’s on the receiving end of it.  

You give her two more firm strokes inside her; drag yourself out and rub your tip over her folds. She wiggles her ass in response, tempting you. Having another fill as her cunt clenches your cock once more, slick soaking up your skin until the friction is almost seamless, siphoning every part of your being just for her. 

This angle is dangerous: the way her stomach is nearly flat, you find your bearings above her, pushing in, too deep, holding her by the hips, anchoring, knees apart and at an angle where they would be if she was kneeling on a pew. Instead, you grab one leg, then the other - get your palms full of her waist in supplication as the undersides of the peak of her thighs meet yours, curves rippling on impact, thrust your cock into her open cunt where you’re rubbing all of the spots at once, gliding in so easily where the pace alone really sets itself into place. Her hand tends to one of her tits, hopelessly keeping it in place while you’re hooking her back for that arch and cementing the motion as your own. The time of teasing and playfulness is over, as you’re chasing to make the aches in her body a problem and sever all the nerves in her system until you can visibly see her limbs shudder - fuck out a complaint from her lips to make you stop and not act so greedy about it; but then your mouth is back on her again, hoping to sedate her thoughts as you let your lower half keep up the work. 

Then you sigh something between the space of the lips, an undertone: “You like this, love?” 

A nod is the only response she can give you, mouth parted and unable to coherently say anything in particular, so grab her chin. 

She’s getting there. You know. You can tell. 

“This pretty little cunt, all for me, no?” 

Karina mouths a ‘fuck’, biting her lip immediately after. 

“I’ll use you in whatever way I want.” 

Her hand swoops over and presses your forehead against hers, whining in pure euphoria.

“Let me hear you,” you urge, hand moving up so you can close her mouth, lighten up on the pressure so that she speaks a bit more freely. “I want you to say it.” 

Karina locks onto your eyes, searching for the right words in your head, and you know she will- 

Because Karina knows that she’ll be good for you. Your perfect little fucktoy. A personal slut who’ll always let you have and you know this well enough since it’s taken you this long to finally see it. “Oh baby it’s all yours, it’s all yours, it’s all yours. I promise- I promise that it’s all yours and it’s no one else’s- I promise it’s only yours just keep fucking-” 

To say that your ego was inflated would be an understatement. But man, words can not describe how much you wanted her to scream it out at the top of her lungs. 

Your groaning matches hers in volume, the bedframe not too far off to scrape across the hardwood. You’re pretty sure that the springs will bounce along with your bodies as well. 

“So pretty,” you praise, kissing her. “I’m gonna have this cunt all to myself. Whenever. Wherever-” 

Karina’s head lolls back and up, clutching onto your neck for added support. Heaving as you’re fucking the air out of her and makes her voice have this raspy tone attached to it: “That’s cute. You won’t have to look very far now that there’ll be one room for us to share.” 

You pause, blinking. Your finger moves a wisp of her hair away from her face, her eyes widening and fulll with sparkles. Never in a million years, you’d find yourself to be in this position - inside of Karina - but here we are. No need to move fast when you’ve done the hard stuff already. 

“So what,” you say, picking up a stable pace in her cunt, saving the dissipating control where you can. What’s there to be left said when it’s already shown? “It’s bad news for you because I’m gonna have you every chance I can get.” 

“You wanna let the whole world know how rough you’re fucking me? Be my guest,” she tells you, palm braced to your waist and moving her hips in this body-roll motion, biting her lip as the entity of sin returns in her mind, taking over. 

“I’m too good for you,” continues Karina, light-hearted and giddy, as if she’s not trying to milk every bit of you into her fucking pussy. “And here I thought I knew everything about you.” 

She’s right about that. Fortunately, this is more than just a dream. This is reality. You have endless memories with her as it is, and you’re positive that you’re excited to create more of them with her. 

“I guess you could say this is one more secret kept away.” 

A hand to your face, gentle. Loving. “My handsome boy.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“You are.” Karina breathes with an airy laugh, voice getting hazier. Cock drunk and fucked out of her mind. It’s working. “So hot.” 

“Gonna talk?” 

“Fuck-” she then sighs, hissing, and the smirk fades from her face, something more warm, languid, laid back. Her mind is gone. “Fuck.” 

You nod and give her a smirk of approval. Proud of your latest curation. The girl that everyone wants, only wants you. The beauty in that exclusivity lifts a weight off your head, and you’re far inclined to accept it head-on. 

“How bad do you want me?” You ask, biting down a kiss to push some life into her. Tears welled up at the corners, letting her feel every inch where you could take it. 

“I should be asking you, how far are you gonna hold out for me?” Karina purrs. “I’ll give you what you want if you let go first.” She tells you, pulling her body upwards and shifting the limbs around before you find yourself sliding back into her where the angle is at her cunt’s hottest point. A spot where you’d never turn back on. 

The pressing of the crease at her knees, legs pushed up high. Your cock is so embedded and consumed by her pussy that you’re having trouble staying upright. 

She then says this mantra - a phrase said differently but its message is very clear: “I’m all yours,” she wails, “I’ll always be yours if you let me- fuck! Only let me have this cock all to myself.” 

It’s happened multiple times before in your life: being wrapped around her finger. But this- this takes the meaning to a whole new level. Her body claims you as its own and you’ll surrender to that discovery for as long as you walk on this earth. 

The strokes keep going, the mindnumbing sensation coming to its fated end - that blissful release and last bits of pent-up feelings of Karina; her cunt a glove, sheathing your cock perfectly with every thrust, clenching around your girth to pump you out. 

You’ve already laid the cards on the table a long time ago or- even now, when she’s seen you in the most vulnerable state, fucking into the mattress so deeply and loudly that you’re not even worried about the potential noise complaint coming from the neighbors. 

She’s calling out your name. Just your name. Nobody else’s. Telling you how to keep fucking her. Hard. Fuck her poor little cunt until you’ve dumped every last bit of your load in her and fill her until she’s leaking out white between her legs. 

“Baby, I can feel you throbbing. Are you gonna cum? Gonna cum so fucking much- Please, I want it. I need it. Just- fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-” 

She loses first. 

And my lord, she’s fucking wrecked. 

You bottom her out and hold her hips in place, cunt quivering and her toes curl and feet in the air, moving with what little mobility they have left because you’re pressing down the underside of her thighs, yelping and wailing and screaming to the point she might break the fucking glass on mirror and windows. 

“Baby. Baby, I can’t fucking move- you son of a bi-” 

Karina’s pussy squelches around your cock, a new layer of slick added to the mix of spit and precum. You pull out halfway and rub her clit at an inhuman rate, feel her liquid sputter out, hit some parts of your body, squirting. 

She’s squirting even more when you’re slapping the head of your cock across her pussy lips, watch her body spazz out and tense up almost like she’s having a seizure or going into shock, blabbering complete nonsense and you’re kissing her harshly on the fine column of her throat. 

You could care less, because all you just want to do is fuck Karina, feel the glide of her cunt become even smoother than before. Read into how her body responds to yours and the mess just gets even more filthier. The sounds- God, the fucking sounds. It’s a perfect harmony. 

The pace steadies with the beat of your heart, thrusting your cock into her cunt and keep her figure moving until she’s able to gather her thoughts, finding the right words along the teeth to where she says: “cum in me, fuck your cum into me,” and the sobs compliments her heaving. “Please, I want it. Give it to me. I wanna be full-” 

It lights a fire under your ass, every ounce of your being finally collapsing. 

You’re managing where you can; burying yourself in the deepest depth of Karina’s pussy, cumming in the hottest point - and the senses and nerves in your body are contracting and expanding in all the right places- 

Your body and Karina’s: finally becoming one. 

Your cock and lips are the sole sources of connection to her as she coos at the multitudes of cum filling her pussy up. 

The embodiment of perfection. The tightness. So snug. You can feel it. Every fiber of your being let out through your release and her small little hole - holding your cock through the pulsing, legs frozen as your arms slither to Karina’s back, exhaling so hard that you’re certain one of your lungs might break. 

“That’s fucking amazing, baby. Oh, baby, keep giving me your cum - I need- I need it, ah. God-” 

You could feel your vision start to blur in and out of blackness, her whimpers and soft moans a gentle sonata, soothing through your high as her fingers grazing across your skin is enough contact to course electricity through you. And you rest your head against hers, taking asylum in the space above her shoulder, hips slowing and breath racked with exhaustion. Her hand rubs against your lower back, massaging the last bits of cum deep while the rest of her body goes limp, sweat glistening all over her skin as if she got baptized, finally blessed with the afterglow. 

“So much cum,” she’s saying, over and over, a prayer in itself, “There’s so much cum in me.” 

You release the restraints of your hands from her body, pulling on her side until her legs start to tangle with yours, cock still wrapped around her pussy, unable to leave or pull out. Her thumb swipes across your eyebrow, tapping the temple. Internalizing the events that occurred just now, reeling away from the pure emotions and the mere point of it all. 

At last, you and her are both drained. Like you’ve gone twelve rounds with her. You’re willing to go one more, because she’ll want that too. 

You’re then combing Karina’s hair down, patting the back of her head while she leans into your chest cavity and showers your collarbones with kisses. She nestles her face deeper when you bring her closer, swooping the sheets from beneath until it covers both of you. 

It’s comforting. This new home. 

It’s everything. 

“Don’t sleep yet,” you whisper to her, kissing her forehead while her eyelids flutter lazily. 

Her head tilts. There’s a slight shake on the ends of her fingertips; she brings them close to her face. You gaze down to see her mouth try to form a few letters - a word - only say nothing at the end of it. 

“It was always you,” she breathes, the projection alone a new belief to instill. Your face shifts to something confused, thrown off. But you’ve repeated and reciprocated the same thing even though most of it was unrequited. “Part of me was worried for like- the longest time, and now-” 

You hush her, her body sinking more into your touch, the warmth encapsulating her like a cocoon. The aches soon settle in and you let the pillowed conversations flow to a more interesting topic. 

–

When the next morning comes around, your mind is doing its best job to make you succumb to the inner machinations of your visions. The effects of the alcohol still present - which explains the partial dizziness, though your memory is kept intact. Most of it feels a bit smudged, like the faint image of a mirage of some haven out in the blistering heat of the desert. Soon your eyes are filled with the endless plane of the ceiling above, and you feel a whole lot lighter- 

The weight pressing down on your arm was no more. 

You arch your back, feel the limited mobility in your lower half, and inhale deeply. 

A prop of your elbow betters your view; realizing the sheets were off your body, your legs slightly spread apart, feel the shocking tingle of nails scratch along your skin, crotch surprisingly warm - not to mention wet. 

Karina looks up with a neat pop off the head of your cock, an airy laugh passing through her lips, slides her tongue up the length before she carries on with bobbing her head between your legs, cock hardening in the heat of her mouth. 

“Jesus fuck-” 

You feel her hand wrap around you, grinning, biting down a patch of skin near the base. She pumps you once, maybe twice, and tilts her face sideways when she sees your jaw slack and lips salivating. 

Well. It's one hell of a way to say good morning. 

“Aw, did I scare you? Well, you better enjoy this because I won’t be waking you up like this unless I feel like it.” 

That’s how all things go, unfortunately. The ways Karina wants you to do these favors of hers.

Except now-

You can bet your ass that you’ll love every fucking second of it. 

[laufeysvalentine]

i want you. pt 2, remus lupin

intertwined, sewn together

remus lupin x fem!reader | masterlist, pt 1

summary ༄ remus x best friend!reader -- the aftermath of you accidentally confessing your love for remus and running away, hurt/comfort, fluff

word count ༄ 4.1k

nora’s notes ༄ so sorry for the delay on this, thank you so so so much for all the love on the first part and for 200 followers??? that's gen insane i love all of you 💘 i haven't proofread so pls excuse grammar

you’ve barely gotten a wink of sleep next morning, and it shows. you finally crash in the morning to sleep through breakfast and lunch. 

at two, you’re up, but barely. you feel like absolute shit. the feeling only worsens when lily comes in, pity in her face. she knows what happened, and the pity only means one thing–there’s a reason he hasn’t come by, and it’s not because he’s in love with you. 

burying your head in your pillow, you let out a loud groan. 

“y/n?” she pulls back your covers and offers a plate up to you. “remus brought this for you, cause you weren’t at breakfast or lunch.” 

“don’t say his name in my presence,” you beg her, only half-joking. the plate she brought has all your favorite foods from the great hall, and you hate that remus knows you so well, well enough to pick them out. 

“he wants to talk to you,” she says once she’s sat on her own bed a few feet from you. “he just didn’t want to cross your boundaries. i’ll tell him off if you’d like, just let me know.” 

“i love you, lily, but it’s not necessary. it’s not his fault half of hogwarts loves him and the prettiest girl out there fell to his feet,” you huff, a sadness leaking out of you. you want to blame him. but really, you can’t. “he didn’t do anything wrong. i guess.” 

lily’s eyebrow raises as she waits for you to elaborate. “he did make you fall to his feet, didn’t he.” 

“you know who i’m talking about.” as if you could compare to celeste… although you’re pleased with the compliment. “and i’m still mad.” 

“you have every right to be,” she concedes, mouth open to say something when the door bursts open, carrying in a flustered marlene. 

“please, y/n, i’m begging you. do something about him. he’s run off and sirius can’t find him, so he’s bugged james about it who’s bugging me, and i can’t take it anymore.” her cheeks are flushed, begging, but you can’t bring yourself to listen to her. “i’d never do this to you, but i’ll truly rip my ears off for another moment of this.” 

“marlene.” lily’s glaring at the blonde, grabbing her by the elbow. “don’t listen to her, y/n. do whatever you want.” 

as much as you feel bad, you’re not ready. you don’t want to face him, like, ever. 

and that’s what you resolve to do for the whole next week. knowing remus, he would never make you uncomfortable, not on purpose, at least, but he knows you too well to make you uncomfortable by accident. so, three days later, when you stumble into breakfast with approximately thirty minutes of sleep and bags suitcases under your eyes to match it and choose the seat farthest away from him, he doesn’t move closer to you. 

still, you feel his eyes on you the whole time, but you just stare down at your plate, making pictures with the eggs and ketchup. while half-listening to marlene’s blabbering, you craft a smiley face, then a frowny face to match your mood, a mickey mouse, and then this girl that you hate for no reason because she’s really not hateable at all you just hate her because she kissed this guy who’s your best friend but technically you’re not even dating you’re just in love with him. fuck. you push away the eggs and glance around the table. the first thing you notice is him noticing you–it’s the first day you’ve not felt too lovesick and heartbroken to ditch class and meals, for risk of seeing him, so your presence speaks for itself. even then, every morning you wake up to an artfully arranged plate outside your door, laden with your favorite foods. the same comes for lunch and dinner, and you’re not stupid. you know he sends them. 

but you can’t talk to him. not now that you know he’s not in love with you like you are with him, at least not as much. he might even like celeste by now. not “might,” he probably does. you wouldn’t hold it against him. they would be beautiful together. a fresh round of nausea sloshes into the walls of your gut. 

when you deem it socially appropriate to leave, you take the chance, getting up with the masses heading to class, trying to slip through the crowd to avoid him. 

“y/n,” sirius croons from your right, so close you can feel his hot breath on your ears, and your heart sinks. where sirius is, the marauders are soon to follow. “oh, how i missed you this past eternity.” 

you grimace at him, pushing his cheek away from your face. “hi, padfoot. it’s been three days.” 

“and what days they’ve been!” he proclaims dramatically, slinging an arm around your shoulder and pretending to faint. 

“siri. i’m not in the mood.” you mutter, slipping out from under his arm, chancing a glance behind you to make sure the blond you would recognize anywhere is not here. you’re in the clear for now, you’ve no clue where he, peter, and james have gone or why they’re so far from sirius. 

he senses your mood shift and transforms into serious sirius. “you need to get back with moony.” 

when you blow out a heavy breath, your hair flies forwards and hangs limply on your face. “a, as i said, it’s been like three days. b, we were never together so i can’t ‘get back’ with him. c, and listen carefully when i say this, i don’t want to.” he doesn’t want me are the words you leave sour and dormant on your tongue. 

“but, y/n,” he pouts. “he really misses you, even if it’s only been a little while. he’s a wreck, knowing he made you cry.” 

you’ve heard enough. of course. this is why the marauders aren’t near him. it’s a ploy, an intervention if you may. 

“no, don’t even.” you pull away from him and push through the throngs of students to get away from him. you toss out a parting over your shoulder before slipping away, “i’ll see you in class.” 

just kidding. you sneak back into your dorm and let the blankets swallow you, watching the ceiling to pass the time. remus is not in love with you. he never will be. 

as you count the amount of nicks in the ceiling paint for the forty-hundredth time, you think about him again. as you have for the past eight years. 

even if he’s not in love with you–you can’t imagine a life without him. you can’t sacrifice your friendship, all those friendly touches, the feeling of his warm hand splayed against your back, the sight of him curled in his bed with his newest book. how could you never discuss your favorite books with him again? how could you sacrifice that golden look that makes you melt over as you speak? those perfectly brewed cups of tea, vanilla-scented sweaters, knitted thickly with love? 

he’s your best friend. the answer is, you could never live without him. even if you’re in love with him and he’s not, in fact, in love with you back. you’ll just have to get over it. 

whoever painted this ceiling left fourteen cracks. 

–

you’re going to get over him, you swear it. this is what you repeat as you walk into the great hall, your eyes trained on the ground, slipping into the seat next to lily. you refuse to look at him or any of his friends. you won’t. you can’t. 

it’s the first time you’re here. sure, you came by the table this morning, but drawing pictures with ketchup until the whole plate looks like you murdered the bottle isn’t exactly engaging. now, you and marlene are conversing about stupid things: the shoes you need in your wardrobe, your favorite song to listen to while crying in the shower vs. in your bed. and important questions, like what’s better, milk or dark chocolate (dark chocolate, obviously, and don’t even think about saying white chocolate. that is not real chocolate)? 

you can feel his eyes on you, drilling almond brown holes into your skull. the urge to look up chokes you. you want to see the curve of his smile, how lopsided it leans on him, the scars that dance around his lips. but you steel yourself. you can’t. you won’t. 

–

you’re ignoring him. the problem is, it’s not really working. 

no matter where you are, you can feel his eyes on you; even if you’re across the classroom, you swear you can smell the earthiness of his cologne, his sweaters. 

fuck. 

you are not getting over him anytime soon. 

the two of you manage to avoid any contact for what feels like months–days, maybe. in the hallways, you brush past each other, sometimes mumbling an apology or two as you pass. nothing sincere. nothing short of incredibly, incredibly awkward. 

you tuck yourself into hidden corners of the library, the astronomy tower, the room of requirement, anywhere where you can get away. from him, from the scary softness of sirius’ eyes when he looks at you, the even more terrifying relative quiet from marlene, who was seemingly instructed to give you space by lily. everything is awkward. and it’s all your fault. 

when the glances stares fade, you know why, and you hate yourself for knowing. the full moon’s nearing. remus’ shoulders are sagging, his looks come from lower down. his body is aching more and more, he twists around nearly every class you have together, something you know he’s always done to try and alleviate some pain. his undereyes are bruised and swollen, and you see the brass of his cane around the common room, and you hate that you aren’t there for him. he hates that thing, he always tries to avoid using it. 

it must be especially bad this time around. 

and when lily comes into your dorm the day before the full moon, skin sunken with exhaustion, you figure something’s up. 

“lily?” you ask, jolting up from your book. the mug of tea that he drank the night you stopped talking is still by your bedside. you can’t bring yourself to move it. what if that’s your last memory with him? 

“hm?” she murmurs, flopping onto her bed. 

“what’s wrong?” you ask as you turn your body towards hers. 

she waves her head, face in the pillow. 

“you can talk to me about him,” you frown. “it’s related to him, isn’t it? the full moon?” 

the redhead sits up, looks at you. she’s not one to lie, never has been. “...yeah. james is just stressed, because he thinks this transformation has already been really painful for him, and it’s only going to get worse tomorrow.” 

your head is bobbing. you swallow your feelings–what is that, guilt? shame? you don’t know what. maybe celeste broke up with him. not everything is related to you. 

“mhm,” you say in response. absorbing. 

she hesitates, mouth opening, before shutting it again. “it’s–well, i don’t…” 

you shrug. “you don’t have to say anything, lily.” 

so she doesn’t. 

—

lily’s right. in the eight years you’ve known him, he has never looked so rough pre-transition. you steal peeks at him all day, like he’s a tv show you weren’t supposed to watch as a kid. it looks like the life is steaming out of him. his hair–artfully messy, as always—is mussed and unwashed. when he walks out of the classroom, it’s a limp, with a slow clunk to it that makes your chest hurt. you want nothing more than to rush over and help him, but no. if he wanted you, well, if he didn’t want celeste, he would have come after you. 

he doesn’t want you. you repeat that to yourself when you see him almost pass out onto his plate during lunch, making a worried sirius (yes, sirius of all people, who usually tries to stay calm in situations like these) rush him to his dorm. 

but he reappears only an hour later for potions, when his back is tensed, tight, and his shoulders are hunched over. slughorn tries to call on him twice, but he pretends he isn’t there. 

your chest aches when he doesn’t show up to dinner, and halfway through, the rest of the marauders disappear, muttering to themselves as they go. you rub your collarbone and watch, your anxiety heightened. 

once the great halls door slam, the first place your eyes dart to is the hufflepuff table. you don’t even need to look around to see her. everyone within a ten-person vicinity is ever so slightly turned towards her, like her charisma is impossible to ignore. they want to be her, be with her, know her. 

she’s speaking animatedly, tossing out an airy laugh now and then. maybe remus hasn’t told her yet. 

some evil, petty part of you relishes in that fact. 

the girls are watching you, eyes wide and lips pursed. they’re trying to read you, determine how you’re feeling. dorcas, of all people, has been checking in on you everyday since you and remus fell out, and marlene too, in her own sarcastic way. but seeing them together made you ache for a cavity that could never be filled. a gryffindor love, a spectacular love. one that existed in your if onlys. 

you head straight to your room after dinner to try and throw yourself into your homework, but the distraction doesn’t work. you can’t stop thinking about remus. is he okay? you wish you could be with him. why did you start ignoring him in the first place? 

as the stars fade into the sky, lily bursts through the door, mary an hour later. marlene sneaks in, then out, then in again, with dorcas by her hand. but as time ticks, ticks, ticks, you can’t stop from looking at it. you’re the only one awake now, but the marauders probably aren’t back yet. 

you try your hardest to battle the reluctance that accompanies you to your bed, but you can’t. you just lie there, body tensed as images of remus run through your mind. the two of you visiting his hometown, or him on your lap, your favorite place for him to be. you’ll never forget the feeling of his coarse hair against the lilting touch of your fingers, or how he would turn onto his side, nose bumping against your stomach as he nuzzled into you. 

after waiting what feels like hours, you check the clock. yes. he’s back now. you rise as quietly as you can, slipping out of the dorms and darting towards the hospital room. is he okay? 

madam pomfrey is nowhere to be seen, and as you pass blue curtain to blue curtain, all you can hear is your shuffling. no one’s here–save for one figure on the end, flat on their back, moonlight filtering through the window above them. 

it hugs him in a most flattering light, his eyes closed and relaxed. fuck, he’s already sleeping. you don’t know if you should be happy he won’t see you or not. on your tiptoes, you creep towards his bed, where there’s a chair on his right. when you touch it, it’s still warm. the marauders must have just left. 

here he is. remus lupin. 

your eyes scan his face and arms, any body part that’s left out from the blankets. he has a fresh cut running from his elbow upwards, through where his t-shirt curls around his bicep. for someone with such fresh scars, he looks so, so beautiful. 

the second you sit down on the chair, his eyes fly open. 

oh. 

he wasn’t sleeping after all. 

perhaps the most awkward minute of your life passes, the two of you just staring at each other. your lips are parted, limbs frozen, anticipating. 

“rem?” you squeak out, reaching out to touch him as you usually would. you want to trace the scar that runs down his cheek, but he pulls away, muttering. 

without even acknowledging you, he turns on his side, burying his head into the pillow. 

“oh,” you breathe. he doesn’t want you there. you’re so stupid. why the hell would you come here? you know he likes celeste. you saw them kissing for merlin’s sake. 

you’re trying your best to stifle a gasp as your eyes become sticky with tears. what the fuck were you thinking? 

“stop it. just stop it,” he groans. “why are you bothering me again?” 

your limbs are stuck in place. for some reason, you can’t think, move. your thoughts are spinning in circles, racing around your mind. nothing’s coherent right now. 

you look at him again, his muscles shifting against the cotton of his t-shirt, and swallow. this is goodbye, isn’t it? your lips twist. 

“i-i’m sorry. i know you probably want to get your rest, i’ll just–” you have to force yourself to stand up, but when you do, your hand accidentally brushes his back on the small bed, and he jerks back, electrocuted. “oh, i–sorry.” 

he jolts upright, hands on the bed to support him. “dove?” 

you pause your movements, unsure what to do. he knew who you were before, didn’t he? what happened? 

maybe he’s just delirious from lack of sleep. you begin to walk away when a warm hand wraps around your wrist, drawing you backwards. 

“y/n. i–” he stops when you face him, and you can see the exact moment he sees the tears in your eyes, as he pulls you onto the bed, thumb sweeping the wetness under your eye like it’s second nature. his palm, rough with calluses and scars, supports the softness of your cheek, and you melt. “you’re here. you’re really here?” 

his eyes, that soft amber, spilling over with uncertainty and… regret? the same way he would look after one of the marauders’ particularly nasty pranks, or snapping at one of his friends close to the full moon. 

you nod, shoulders tense. “i just wanted to come stop by. i didn’t mean to–”

“no, no,” he interrupts, his other hand coming up to rub your arm. “i’m sorry. i didn’t… i’ve just been having, er, i’ve been having dreams of you all week. i thought you weren’t real.” 

his face is sparkling with earnestness, a kind of hope you hadn’t seen on him in a while. when you don’t say anything, he takes it as a cue to continue. “i’m also sorry for everything. i thought you wouldn’t want to see me anymore. or… i don’t know.” 

“it’s okay, rem,” you promise, trying to build up the cracks threatening to crumble your voice and your resolve. you try to pull away from his touch, but his fingers just find your knee instead, massaging the flesh there. “i didn’t want to get between you and celeste or anything. it seemed like the right thing to do.” the last part of your voice comes out in a throaty whisper. 

“no.” he says firmly. 

“no?” you ask, shoulders crawling towards your shoulders. 

“no. i want you in my life, dove, always. i–celeste and i aren’t anything. i don’t like her. i never did.” his voice peters out, but his gaze on you stays strong. “there’s another girl.” 

does he hate you? want to kill you? because that’s sure what he’s doing right now, and he knows you too well to not know the effect he’s having on you. like he took the sword of gryffindor and peeked it into your chest–not enough to kill you by brunt force, but enough to maim, to let you bleed out onto the bed as you stare at him, betrayal tearing open your veins. 

“that’s nice, remus.” you don’t even know how words are coming out of your mouth at this point. maybe someone’s taken over your body? 

“i’m sorry for not coming up to you, too. i thought it was the right thing to do,” he says quietly, one of his hands dropping from your face. goosebumps follow where his skin met yours. you think the next sound you hear is the crack crack cracking of your heart. “i thought you wanted space from me. and you deserve that. i only let her kiss me cause… well, cause i thought i had to get over you.” 

what?

he’s gauging your expression, you can feel it, but again, everything’s spinning. you might pass out. what’s happening? who is this other girl he loves? 

“i’ve loved you for so long, but i thought there was never a chance that you could love me back. and then, there was that day. but, you’re you, the most gorgeous girl in all of gryffindor, and then there was me. you deserve so much better than me and how fucked up i am. so i left you alone. i thought it was right.” he glances to the side, bringing his hands to his lap. this is not real. you’re not real. he was right. this was a dream, and any minute this floaty feeling will stop and you won’t feel like you can’t feel your body and you’ll wake up hear your alarm and class will start it’s not real it’s not real it’s not real. 

but your hand reaches out to his, shaking. and the next words that tumble out of your lips are: “y-you love me?” 

“how could i not?” a laugh slips from his mouth and those eyes–those beautiful, beautiful eyes–are back on you and you can’t swallow breathe think nothing but those eyes, those sweet eyes. 

your mouth hangs open. “but…” 

“i’m sorry, y/n. and i don’t know if it’s too late, if you’ve found someone better, but i couldn’t ever leave you thinking that i don’t love you back. anyone who didn’t is a fool. an utter fool.” remus scratches at his jaw, lips pursed. “sorry. i just had to say it.” 

“you love me,” you repeat, looking at him. “you love me?” 

“i always have and i always will. loving you is a part of me, dove, the best part of me there’s ever been.” he sucks in a breath, brings your hand to his lips. when he speaks, you can feel the vibrations of his voice on your skin. “i love you so much.” 

you don’t even realize you’re crying until a tear splashes onto his cheek. you move to touch it, leaning closer to his face as your finger smooths the tear out onto his pretty skin. and then–then, oh, god, you’re so close to him. his breath is so warm. he smells so, so good. 

“can i kiss you, dove?” he asks so softly that you almost don’t hear him–you’re not even sure you do, it might just be instinct that pushes your lips together. something written into your body from birth. you were meant to be his, he yours. 

and merlin, he tastes better than you ever could have imagined. 

remus. your remus. 

a smile spreads across your lips after your next kiss, slow and so, overwhelmingly perfect. he pecks your teeth, your nose. 

“remus,” you say, but a small giggle escapes you before you can finish your sentence. this is surreal. what’s happening right now? are we sure this isn’t a dream? “what are we doing?” 

“kissing, dovey,” he answers with another kiss. “and, maybe, if you wanted, i could be yours?” 

“you’ve always been mine, rem,” you respond solemnly, and he tugs you down next to him, pulling your body under the covers so you’re flush next to him. “only now i can kiss you.” 

his palms come up to your cheeks, one to your hair, and again, the two of you connect–by your lips, sure, but also by you. you’ve connected, there’s no breaking it now. 

“and all of that you were saying?” you pull back every so slightly to look at him, to know him. “you are the most perfect soul i could ever ask for. i want you to tell me every time you feel like you don’t deserve me, because that’s just untrue. you deserve everything and more, and you are so perfect for me, i can’t even fathom how you exist.” 

at that, he pulls you back into him, plants and plants and plants his lips on your face. “there’s no part of me that doesn’t love you, dove. my heart, my mouth, my soul. all of me.” 

and when you’re too tired to kiss any longer, if that concept even exists, you fall asleep leg between his, nose pressed into crease between his neck and jaw, arms around each other, intertwined with him for the night–though, in a way, you always have been. and you always will be. 

masterlist

taglist: @lydiasfalling @moonysloveee @treefairy-28 @lolwey @callsignwidow @navs-bhat @hisparentsgallerryy @brxght-world @grxcisxhy-wp @luvv-danielle @idkman5353 > i'm in love with all of u fr

tags: @fairygirl170 @burningwitchprincess @theredvelvetbitch @effervescentpoet @nott-my-riddle @amatoanima @boromoony @daddypriceugh @stqrgirlies-blog @angemyrtille@lydpop @moonlightremblack @moonydoodlez @wizzerreblogs @just-here-for-ff @sodavrr @serenadingtigers @ficcharsimp @lettertovera @djlance-rock @hypn0fl3ct @thewitchesofart @novausstuff @wrenisrad @ayyeitssarahh @a1ienmush @jay-is-a-pinguin @lovergirlsdiary333 @ajtriesart @setayeshmohseni @iraslore @thesecretgirluniverse-blog @nishinoyas-wife @hyperfixatedscorpio @pansyitcanton @hannah44444 @may-madness @girlwihkaleidoscopeeyes @oursweetmoony @whimsicalgirliee

lmk if you'd like to be on my main taglist xx!

italics means i couldn't tag you for some reason 💔 also sorry i've been so mia in the comments, i love and appreciate all of you who are commenting, tysm and have a good day lovelies

[margotw10bis]

BUILD A HOME.JJK [m] Teaser

business partner!Jungkook x female reader

Genre: angst; smut; romance (?); friends (?) to lovers

Words: ?

Synopsis: Working with Jungkook is a pain in the ass, resulting in numerous fights that always end up with angry sex. However, you wouldn't want to work with anyone else than him.

Warnings: none for the teaser

Namjoon and Jungkook have done a miracle: redoing the facade wall in just one day. You can read on their faces their tiredness. That’s why you invite them to a Korean Barbecue restaurant tonight.

While entering the restaurant with your brother and Jungkook, you notice how the waitress instantly blushes after eyeing at the younger man. You can’t blame her: Jungkook with a denim jacket is quite dangerous for young hearts… She doesn’t even seem to see you or Namjoon, her glance being stuck on Jungkook. She leads your group — or only the inked man, you can’t say — to your table and you welcome the sweet rest and the chill atmosphere of the restaurant.

You don’t have time to start any conversation that the waitress comes back to take your drink orders. She must have a special talent because she can write down what you tell her without even looking at her notepad, which allows her to be completely focused on Jungkook. You watch her tentatively flirting with him with an amused grin. You wait for the waitress to leave to speak.

"You should give her your number" Jungkook looks at you with a questioning look and you roll your eyes "She seems to really like you" You explain, pointing at the waitress with a nod of the head 

"She’s cute but not my type" He nonchalantly replies, just like he was taking about a piece of clothing 

"Oh come on! Every girl is your type" You sigh with frustration 

"Really?" He asks, playfulness noticeable in his doe eyes 

"Was it like a week ago?" You fake thinking while tapping your finger on your lower lip, clearly remembering how Jungkook abandoned you at the restaurant to end the night with a random woman "You left with a false blond girl. Before that, you were with a foreigner, a French girl I think. Oh, and one month ago, you had a thing with a forty-year old woman. How can you say you have a type?" You joke 

"Don’t be jealous, you’re the only one I stick to" Jungkook says with a flirty tone that makes you shiver in disgust 

"Please, don’t’"You snap back with a laugh

Namjoon is watching your little interaction with wide eyes. He can’t understand how Jungkook could even think about another girl when there is… whatever it is between you two. And also, how can you be okay with Jungkook dating other girls. You two are so fucking weird. 

Between beer and chatting, you gather some meat on the grill and settle it on Jungkook’s plate — you have noticed that he is so into his weird anecdote that he hasn’t eaten for at least ten minutes. In exchange, without even be conscious of it, your partner fixes your woolen cardigan that has slipped from your shoulder. 

Your bother is watching you two with a suspicious eye. 

"You’re sure you two are not together?" He cuts Jungkook off 

You can’t help laughing, a little too much not to offend the younger man. 

"What? Of course not" You end up answering 

"Hey, don’t be too startled by the idea, I’m a great boyfriend" Jungkook pouts

"No, you’re not. I know you way too well. Stop talking non sense" You reply, grabbing his cheeks to tease him even more 

"Well, the perfect boyfriend that I am is going to take a piss" He announces while snapping your hand away from his face

[thegreatstoryteller]

Female to Male Fridays!

The Great Shift: Meeting the Parents

“Are you sure you’re ok with this? We can still head home.” Jenny muttered. Clearly a bit nervous staring down at her boyfriend.

“Babe. It’s been almost a year since the Great Shift. I told you. Just because I’m unshifted, doesn’t mean I don’t want to meet your parents.” Youseff said smiling.

Jen and Youseff had met in their freshman year of college and immediately became close. They joined similar clubs, volunteered at the same food banks, and eventually friendship blossomed into romance one fateful summer night! The couple knew nothing could get between them and the love that they found… and a few years later that included the Great Shift. While Youseff remained unshifted, Jen Shale wasn’t so lucky.

They had agreed to meet at her sorority when the craziness of the Shift happened. Youseff was more than a bit surprised to find a larger older man in his 40s sitting nervously on Jen’s bed waiting for him! Since then many revelations have been shared with the couple. The first was Youseff coming out to his girlfriend as bi! He never had the courage to say it before and didn’t know how to share that part of his life with his girlfriend, but the shift offered a unique chance that worked out well with the couple. Two. Jen realized she was in a sports medicine professor who was quite in shape! He apparently was father to three student athletes on campus… and luckily her feelings for her boyfriend hadn’t wavered from the shift. A fact that they both enjoyed learning the first week of the Great Shift. Eventually the two became more comfortable with each other even buying a pair of matching pajamas!

It took quite some time for the world to get back in order. During that entire time communications were able to be set up with most families. Youseff’s family had many linear shifts, a term used by most of the world when your shift put you into someone very similar to your original body. His dad was a man his own age. His mother was a woman a few years younger than her. The only difference was his younger brother who now keeps telling Youseff to call him the bigger brother when he shifted into a former professional athlete. 

Jen’s family… was another story.

“And that brings us to today. Jen. I’m serious. I want to meet them. I know you’ve talked to them, but I haven’t. And when they invited us over for the holidays I thought it’d be the best chance to get to know them.” Youseff said hopefully, placing a hand against Jen’s cheek and training the thick salt and pepper stubble that was ever present no matter how close she shaved.

“I know- I know… but I told you before the shift that they were a bit much… and, well, now since the shift… they are still that! I guess… just… more…” Jen muttered nervously. A feat she seemed to still master despite her new commanding baritone. 

“They can’t be that bad.” Youseff said before knocking. And that’s when they heard heavy steps approaching the door.  

A handsome muscular man answered the door! He wore long pink dishwashing gloves and an apron! Aside from that he seemed to be wearing nothing else. The small potted flower he held seemed to be thriving!

“You must be Youseff! Jen has told us so much about you! Come in! Come in! I was just washing some dishes and watering the kitchen plants! We’re so glad to meet you. You can call me Margot! I’m Jen’s mother, or rather her second father!” Margot laughed. The man before them had a deep voice and almost a bro like tone. The motherly introduction he gave at odds with his gym bro form. 

“You must be hungry! I’ve been making lots of food these days. This young man I became had quite the appetite. And who could blame him. I’ve felt the urge to go to the gym almost every day of the week! Anyway, I just keep blabbering away! Have a mini quiche!” Margot led them to the living room where a small plate of appetizers awaited them.

“Wow, these are amazing Margot!” Youseff said digging in. I always wondered where Jen got her amazing cooking skills from.

“Awww! Jen! You didn’t mention your man was a little charmer.” Margot giggled as Jen blushed. 

“Mooom! Stop! You’re embarrassing me!” Jen complained burying her fuzzy face in her large hands. Her mom was always like this. If it wasn’t telling embarrassing stories about Jen, it was finding an excuse to show off her body. Ever since Margot got her new body she had been more than happy to show it off. She would say, “Well this young man clearly wanted to show off his muscles, who am I to cover them up!”. So bouncing around the house in her classic apron was just the way she dressed these days.

“Shush Jen. My little girl will never be too old for a little humor. Just because you have more grays on that head of yours than your father did pre shift, doesn’t mean you can’t laugh a little.” Margot teased.

“Speaking of where is Mr. Shale? Youseff asked.

“Well he’s always in the garage these days. When he got that 20 year old gymnast’s body, he’d become obsessed with the sport! I’ve got some biscuits to take out of the oven. You two should check on him.” Margot offered.

“Anything to get out of this conversation.” Jen groaned pulling Youseff towards the side of their home. As they opened the door to the garage they could see a handsome black man flexing in the mirror, wearing a tight singlet. The chalk on his hands implying a recent gymnastics routine.

“Jen! There’s my little girl turned big man!” Her dad said cutting his flexing short and heading towards Jen. Mr. Shale now was the shortest one in the family at 5’1. With his daughter at 6’0 and his wife at 5’10, the household tended to tower over him. However, he was more than happy with his new body.

“Hey dad, enjoying your gymnastics or whatever?” Jen half heartedly asked.

“Yes I am! I tell ya, being a few decades younger is great! Sure beats my beer belly and sore ankles. A 20 year old body like this is flexible. You can ask your mother if you don’t believe me.” Mr. Shale winked.

“Dad! Oh my gosh! NO! I brought Youseff here! Please don’t gross him out.” Jen screamed.

“Oh so this is the young man that’s caught my daughter’s eye. You can address me as Mr. Shale or sir. DO I make myself clear?”  Mr. Shale looked up at Youseff who just nodded. Despite the size difference between them Youseff was clearly intimidated by his dad-like tone. 

“Yes sir!”

“Good man. I guess I have you to thank for helping our dear Jen finally get some more manly clothes? For some reason she didn’t want my help with a new wardrobe.” Mr. Shale shook his head disappointed.

“Yeah! We actually had a lot of fun going to the store and finding clothes that fit. The toughest part was finding shoes in her new size.” Youseff conceded.

“Youseff!” Jen blushed. She knew it was true. With her larger feet, she realized just how difficult it was to find footwear that fit. The largest most places went up to was size 15. Her now size 18 feet were tough to find anywhere!

“Sorry babe, but it’s true. Plus you said you had a great time shopping. Like old times, remember? You said that you weren’t sure we’d find a single pair, but when we went to the Big and Tall store, they had a few shoes your size! Even sandals!” Youseff explained.

Jen just shook as her dad applauded Youseff’s resourcefulness!

Before long the family was finally all together to share a meal! Jen’s parents were loving her boyfriend, though he could see that she was clearly embarrassed throughout the whole dinner.

By the time they left Youseff was driving them back to their apartment, where he asked. “Jen? Are you alright? I… I’m guessing that night wasn’t the most pleasant for you?”

Jen just nodded and hugged her boyfriend. Her broad frame embracing him with a tight squeeze. “My parents just take a lot out of me. Before the shift they were overbearing in a different way and now… well now they are always just so comfortable in their new bodies! My mom started going to the gym almost every day with her old book club. Each of them became some kind of fitness influencer. And my dad! He won’t stop telling me how proud he is to have a son now and that I need to start acting more manly. I don’t get how they can be so well adjusted to all this! I… I thought I was getting there. With you… being this kind of man feels easy. Even more exciting at times too.”

“I do love your mustache.” Youseff noted, causing Jen to giggle.

“See. It’s stuff like that. You always make me feel like your partner… and… I guess I need more time before I start feeling like a member of my own family again and not some older hairy guy.” Jen admitted.

Youseff kissed her cheek. “I’m sorry I insisted we meet them so soon. I was so ready to take our relationship further and I was so nervous to meet them. But I forgot to consider how you were feeling about your parents. From now on, we can just focus on us.”

“I like that plan.” Jen smiled kissing back.

“Good. Maybe we can start with a pedicure tomorrow. I know you’ve been itching to try that out with your big new feet.” Youseff teased.

“Ha! These big new feet would love to get a pedicure. Maybe a foot massage later too!” Jen smiled, wiggling her big toes. When she was with Youseff she realized, maybe she could get used to this big body.

[revelboo]

rrevel might i trouble you for a part two for the decepticon grunt harem?? It’s actually a great idea- i’m tempted to try writing something with that prompt too lol

Sure! And go for it, the poor Vehicons need more love

Coin-Operated Boy Pt 2

Vehicons x Reader

• Head tipping to watch you edge closer, it’s tensed and you wait for it to lunge and grab you. But it lets you get within range and then dart for the stairs. When you look back, it’s not moved, that flickering visor fixed on you. “When you’re ready to leave, that same button lifts the door,” you say even though you have no idea if it can understand you. Or what it is. Some kind of advanced AI? For all you know, it’s real life Ultron plotting to pancake you with a meteor. It shifts a leg and makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a groan, that faintly luminous stuff it’s leaking running in rivulets from its injuries. And you hesitate.

• You’re still lingering as he gingerly touches his wounds, his self repair system sluggish from lack of energon. Trying to seal the leaks in his lines, but failing. And you tip your little face skyward like you’re praying to your deities before you walk back down the stairs even though you’re clearly afraid of him. Alert as you head to a bench along the far wall and rustle around until you find a roll of bright pink stuff. “I’m not a mechanic, but duct tape is great for a lot of stuff. Maybe even stopping leaks?” Let you help or bleed out? And why do you even want to help? In his experience, kindness is usually a ploy to get something.

• It’s staring at you, before it slowly holds out an arm. Breath shuddering out of you when you move closer, you’re unnerved by the size of it. Even bent over and curled in on itself to fit in the garage, it’s huge. Head tilting to watch when you pull a small piece of tape loose and then tear it with your teeth. Your fingers are small enough to get into the gaps and get at the leaking lines. Hoping whatever this stuff is, that it’s not corrosive. It doesn’t melt your skin off when you touch it, just feels warm and slick. Slowly taping the tear until it stops leaking before you look up at it and it shows you the next wound. “Steve,” it growls and you flinch.

• “Is that your name?” You ask and your voice is soft. Gentle. Little face upturned to offer him an uncertain smile before you tend to the next tear with your ‘duct’ tape. Has anyone ever actually been kind to him? As far back as he can remember he’s been following orders. Being yelled at. Sometimes thrown or hit for things that aren’t even his fault. And he’s not sure that he can trust your kindness. You must be after something. But your soft voice is soothing as you tell him your name and talk him through each tear as you mend them as best you can. Wants to believe that your soft hands aren’t going to harm him, that your sweet voice isn’t a trap. He’s just so tired.

• “Why?” He asks and it takes a moment to realize he’s asking why you’re helping him. Like you need to have a reason. And sure, every survival instinct you had was screaming at you not to help him, but you’d done it anyway. Still are. Because you’re too soft, know it and are used to people taking advantage and walking all over you. And you just can’t stop reaching out anyway no matter how many times you get hurt.

• “Because you needed help,” you say, those gentle hands taping a line tear in his side. Like it’s that simple. He’d needed you and you’d reached out wanting and expecting nothing in return. Has no idea how to respond to this. What to say. Leaning slowly forward until his helm touches your head, soft hair brushes against him when you freeze. Visor flickering when you slowly reach up a hand to lay on his masked face. “You’re okay.” How do you know exactly what he needs?

Previous

[trustmypoison]

Ateez finding out that you're pregnant

Requested? Yes!

Request: Hi! <3 I loved your ATEEZ reaction with a low maintenance partner! I was wondering if I could make a request? Either: How each member prefers to sleep with you at night/whether they like to be held or do the holding/etc. I did see the sleeping positions one but I figured this one was different enough. If not that's totally fine!! Otherwise, maybe a pregnancy one, I saw the ones planned for svt and I'd love to see ateez. tysm!! <3’

TW/CW: pregnancy and baby talk. Skip if you aren’t into that. 

Hongjoong

The picture of totally put together. There will be only a split second of shock before he’s holding you tight and telling you how happy he is about the news. If you were nervous about the news (which I think most people are at least a little), he’s putting your mind at ease immediately. No, it’s not too soon. No, he’s not worried about the group or the company. Yes, he can’t wait to start a family. 

Seonghwa

Stunned silence. You actually think you might have broken him. Once he starts talking, it’s one half-finished question only to be interrupted by another half-finished question, but you get the picture so you explain that you realized you were late and took a test. If the shock goes on so long that you feel like this whole thing is going down the drain, he’ll snap out of it to assure you he’s thrilled, he might just need some time to wrap his head around it. 

Yunho

He had a sneaking suspicion when you got a ‘stomach bug’. He doesn’t say anything right away and you’d be too busy being sick to care. So he simply takes you to the doctor. He’s totally silent when you stammer that you don’t need to take a test and the doctor assures you it’s just to eliminate potential causes. When the doctor announces your results, he’s already braced for the shock and handles it far more gracefully than you do. Please, he’d be such a steady partner, change my mind. 

Yeosang

When you tell him, he just smiles and nods. You ask if he has anything to say and he smiles and says no. This sort of questioning goes on until you really aren’t convinced he even heard you. You don’t feel good and this is a tough topic if only because it’s a surprise, and the whole thing makes you impatient. “Are you even listening? I said I’m pregnant!” The frustration will double when he just smiles and says, “I know. At least I suspected.” He pulls you in for a hug as you rage, “Then why didn’t you tell me??? I didn’t know!!!” Irritatingly calm in the face of such news. 

San

The gentlest of guys and you can’t convince me otherwise. After like the third bout of illness in one morning, he puts you back to bed and very carefully brings up the possibility. He hates the panic that flashes across your face at the mere mention of it and he decides now is a great time to tell you that he’d love it if you were expecting. It puts your mind at ease and the conversation is a slow buildup to you finally asking him to get the tests. Super sweet and supportive even before the tests are purchased. 

Mingi

Panic. I could leave it at that but I guess I won’t. He does not know what to do with this information and might not handle it gracefully. He hates that he can see how nervous and upset you are but I envision he’d need to step away. Imagine him going to an older member in crisis mode. Also, imagine Hongjoong blowing up because he just left you like that without any comfort. After some careful coaching, his older members will demand he go and make things right. When he calms down and thinks of the future, he likes it, but a big change like that is scary. 

Wooyoung

He just shows up with a couple of tests and demands that you take it. It’s so perplexing that you’re kind of waiting for the punchline (because he always has one). But he really doesn’t have one now and he’s very serious. Now, that doesn’t mean he’s not a smart ass!! He’ll say something like, “You’ve been biting my head off for weeks, you keep gagging at the food I make, and you missed your period last month. Take it so I know how offended to be.” He’s joking on that last bit because of how pale you get at the implication. He’s thrilled about the news, but he’s equally thrilled to know that you don’t just hate him!! 

Jongho 

Overjoyed. Like there’s not even a moment of shock. The way he holds you close and tells you how happy he is in an instant really smashes any doubts you might have had. Totally doting immediately. I’m serious, do not move, do not pick anything up, do not try to do anything for yourself. I think normally he would not baby his partner quite so much, but he’d do a complete 180 with this news. Prepare to be coddled for at least 9 months, or maybe forever, idk. 

[redisthenewblue]

TINKER-Twisted Wonderland x Tinkerbell!Yuu/Fem!Reader Part 5 Part 4

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ "Red... Red... BAM! Whoa! It turned blue?!?" Deuce took a step back, totally shocked. How did he mess that up so badly?!

"Change, you awful color! Change! AHA! BWAH! The rose is on fire!" Grim was frantically trying to put out the flames on the bush.

[Name] just sighed as she watched the boys struggle with painting the roses. She pushed them aside and flicked her magic pen at the bush, instantly changing all the roses' colors.

"See how easy that was? I’m just way too good at this!" [Name] tossed her hair back with a smirk, reveling in her own talent.

The boys exchanged glances before looking back at her.

"What? Why are you staring like that?" [Name] raised an eyebrow, confused.

"[Name]... the roses are... um... pink," Deuce stammered, clearly nervous about how she would react. Ace, on the other hand, burst out laughing.

"Don't tell me you're color blind?!" Ace teased the fairy.

"Wow. You’re even worse at this than I thought," Cater scratched his head, trying to figure out what to do with the first-years.

"Hey, maybe you should just leave the roses white! They look perfectly pretty to me," Ace suggested, but Cater wasn't having it.

"It’s all about tradition. You can’t have an unbirthday party without the roses being red. And you can’t play croquet without seven-colored flamingos as mallets and a hedgehog for a ball. Oh, and don't forget, the roses have to be white when the garden flowers have their spring concert. That's non-negotiable!" As Cater rambled, [Name] was left speechless. What kind of animal cruelty were these guys into?!

"What did those animals ever do to you?!" [Name] exclaimed, horrified by how the dorm treated them.

"All your rules are totally insane!"

"They say the Queen of Hearts made these rules herself—she was one of the Great Seven, you know. And Riddle is really into tradition, probably more than any previous housewarden. I’ll admit, he’s a bit... much," Ace huffed, clearly annoyed. 'A bit' was a serious understatement.

"Yeah, no kidding. I don’t have time for this nonsense. Is Riddle around? I need to talk to him," Ace said, cutting straight to the chase.

"Yeah, probably. But are you sure that’s a good idea? Did you even bring an apology tart to replace the one you ate?" Cater interrogated Ace.

"Uh, no...? I came here first thing in the morning!" Ace clarified defensively.

"Ah ah ah... That could be a problem. Have you forgotten rule 53? 'Stolen items must be replaced.' If you’re not in compliance, I can’t let you in," Cater said, sticking out his hand to usher Ace out.

"Are you serious?!" Ace looked at the upperclassman in disbelief. Was he joking?

"Are you telling me I came all this way for nothing?!" [Name] nearly lost it. Of course, the one time she got dragged along, she ended up painting roses, getting teased for messing up the color, and now getting kicked out. Seriously?!

"You know you didn’t have to come, right?" Deuce piped up.

"Deuce." The fairy shot him a warning glance.

"Yes ma’am!" Deuce quickly zipped his mouth shut.

"All dorm residents must follow the rules. If I let you slide, it’ll be off with my head next! Sorry, Ace, but I need you to leave before Riddle spots you. Thanks," Cater began pushing Ace out, who was digging his heels in.

"I... think this guy is serious. You guys, do something!" Ace cried for help.

[Name] glanced at her nails, bored. "I don’t really feel like fighting right now."

"Why should WE do anything?" the blue-haired boy crossed his arms, unimpressed.

"Come on, please! I can’t use magic! Hurry, he’s—" Ace begged before Cater blasted him with a light spell, sending him flopping to the ground. [Name]'s wings twitched slightly as she watched him crash. A determined look crossed her face as she pulled out her magic wand and pointed it at Cater.

"Fine, today’s your lucky day, Ace," [Name] said, glancing back at the boy behind her. Deuce looked at her with admiration as he grabbed his magic pen, ready to back her up.

"I’ve got your back, [Name]!" Deuce declared, filled with determination.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

[Name], Deuce, and Grim were panting in exhaustion outside the dorm. Just how elite was this guy?!

"Make sure you bring that tart next time, okay? Bye now!" Cater waved his fingers at the first years. [Name] was the first to break the silence.

"Ace, I am never helping you again."

"What?! Why?!" Ace exclaimed, shocked by her statement.

"We hit him over and over, but he just kept coming. Maybe he was using some kind of illusion magic?" Deuce said, clearly frustrated.

"So let me get this straight: we walked in there completely tartless, and this dude still made us go through that whole rigmarole before tossing us out? He just wanted us to paint his stupid roses!" Ace facepalmed at the realization.

"We really look like a bunch of chumps," Grim said glumly.

"No, Grim," [Name] corrected him, "ACE DOES!" Her voice rose in volume, emphasizing her point.

"I get it, okay?!" Ace sulked, feeling defeated.

"I guess we’ll just have to grab an apology tart and come back. Maybe after class, we can— Oh no!" Pure panic crossed Deuce’s face.

"What’s wrong?" Yuuken asked, looking at the blue-haired boy with concern.

"We already missed the first bell! We’re going to be late for class!"

"Myah! I can't afford to get a blemish on my first day of glorious Night Raven education! Let’s move, everyone! To the classroom, pronto!"

"I’m out!" [Name] said, her words coming out in a jingle as she flapped her wings and zoomed off.

"[Name]?!" Yuuken called after her, bewildered. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

[Name] was sitting quietly at the back of the class, trying her best to ignore the curious stares from the other students. Even though she promised herself she wouldn’t let it bother her, those insecurities were eating away at her. Sure, she could be tough, but deep down, she was still just a teenage girl.

“Ah, you must be my new homeroom students!” The teacher redirected everyone’s attention to the latecomers at the door. A grateful smile spread across her face as Yuuken and the others glanced up at her. “Hmm, that’s quite the unique coat of fur you’ve got there. Just make sure you come to class looking presentable. My name is Divus Crewel, but you can call me Master Crewel. Now, take your seats because class is about to kick off. We’ll start with the basics, which means cramming the names and key traits of a hundred herbs and poisons into your tiny brains. We’ll tackle mycelia later. But hey, I’m hoping you’ll eventually figure out how to stroll around without munching on anything poisonous. I know you all have the self-control of ravenous hounds right now, but I will not tolerate a single student failing this class. Get ready to be drilled!”

Deuce looked at the worksheet in front of him, confused. “Huh, so… does anyone know what a mycelia is?”

“I’m not really into memorizing stuff like that, ya know?” Ace chimed in.

“Good thing I’m a quick learner,” bragged the fairy with a smug grin.

“All I care about is figuring out which plants are tasty and which ones are gross.”

Yuuken groaned, “Seriously, Grim?”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“I’m your History of Magic teacher, Mozus Trein, and this is my familiar, Lucius. You’re here to dive into the rich history of magic and see how it’s shaped the world you take for granted.”

“Mrrrrooowww…”

[Name] glanced over at the grey cat, which was staring at her like she was out of place. She grimaced and quickly looked away. What’s with cats and her?!

“I grade based on how you behave in class as well as the quality of your work. Don’t even think about sleeping on my watch. Now, let’s open our books to page fifteen. This section dives into the magestones discovered in the Dwarfs' Mine…” The teacher droned on.

“Mrrrrooowww…” The cat rolled over.

“As knowledge and awareness of magical energy spread across the globe from this point, this year is considered Year One of the Magic Era.”

The fairy could feel her eyelids getting heavy. “Oh my Sevens, this lecture is a snooze-fest…” she muttered to herself. Even the cat looked like it was about to doze off! She rubbed her face in agony, wishing she could escape this boring lecture.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“I’m Coach Vargas, and it’s my job to whip your weak little bodies into shape. Great sorcery starts with great physical fitness! Just look at the muscles you can build with a diet of raw eggs! A great mage needs a solid physique! So, let’s do twenty laps and a hundred push-ups!”

“Sevens,” the fairy muttered, her feet dragging as she flew close to the ground, shoulders slumped. “Why do I have to run when I can just fly?”

“Ugh. This forced exercise is bad enough, but meatheads like this guy drive me up the wall,” Ace complained, already dreading the class.

“Finally! A subject I’m actually good at!” Deuce exclaimed, pumping his fist in excitement.

“Seriously, what’s the appeal of running around in circles? Do I look like a hamster?” Grim complained, the flames near his ears dimming as he trudged along beside [Name].

“Well, Grim, you’re not too far off from a ham—”

“Henchman!”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“Let’s see, our next class is…” Deuce mused as the group walked through the crowded hallway. By now, [Name] had gotten somewhat used to the annoying stares. She tucked her wings close and squeezed through the crowd with ease.

“This so-called magic academy feels a lot like a boring, regular school. Not exactly what I was expecting, but at least this collar isn’t too much of a hassle after all. You feel me on that, Grim? ...Huh?” Ace paused, looking around for the cat.

“Wait, where’d Grim go?” Yuuken joined Ace in searching for the missing cat. This made [Name] perk up her pointed ears.

“Oh! Look out the window! I just saw a ball of fur darting across the yard!” Deuce exclaimed, and the rest of the group followed him, leaving [Name] crossing her arms, glancing back at the mob of students near the classroom door. She scowled, contemplating the consequences of skipping class before ultimately deciding to follow the rest of the group out to the courtyard.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“I am NOT putting up with this boring routine every single day. I’m Grim, Sorcerer Prodigy, and I don’t need anyone teaching me how to blow stuff up!” Grim stomped across the courtyard.

“The Headmage is going to be furious…” Yuuken sighed, eyeing the cat.

“Wow, that guy really isn’t a fast learner.”

“Tell me about it,” the fairy said, watching with amusement.

“Not a good look to lose your only student on your first day as prefect. Want some help catching him?” the orange-haired boy offered.

“Yes, please!” Yuuken practically pleaded with the rest of the group.

“I do love those chocolate croissants at the co-op,” Ace nudged Yuuken.

“I’d do it for an iced latte at the cafeteria,” Deuce chimed in.

“I think I could go for a donut or two…” [Name] mused, tapping her chin in thought.

Yuuken groaned at the idea of buying all three of them something, calculating the cost in his head.

“Look! Grim’s getting away, Yuuken!” [Name] pointed.

Finally, the boy relented. “Fine, fine! Done, done, and done!”

“Pleasure doing business! Now, [Name] and Deuce, let’s clean up the mess made by the worst prefect to ever set foot on campus!” Ace got ready to chase after the cat.

“I can already taste that latte, Ace, [Name],” Deuce said, pulling out his magic pen from his pocket. The fairy unfurled her wings and stretched, signaling that the chase was on.

“Deuce, go left!” [Name] shouted, flapping her wings faster to pick up speed. The blue-haired boy shifted to the side, allowing [Name] to gracefully maneuver around the cat, fairy dust sprinkling onto Grim’s soft fur.

“Nyah?!” The cat lifted into the air as the fairy dust took effect, clearly distressed.

“Mrrah! I’m done with these boring classes!” Grim whined as he spun around, “Get me down!”

“Wait… you could’ve used that fairy dust floating trick the whole time?” Ace muttered in disbelief.

“Oops!” [Name] batted her eyelashes playfully, “I’ve been a little too tired lately!” She glanced down at her platform Mary Janes, checking for any scratches from landing.

“Can someone get me down?!”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

“Woohoo! Lunchtime finally! Whoa! This food looks amazing!” Grim’s eyes darted around the cafeteria, drool pooling at the corners of his mouth.

“Ooh, a buffet! That’s fancy,” [Name] said as she grabbed a plate and tongs, opting for a tender slab of smoked salmon with a side salad, though that cheeseburger with fries was definitely calling her name.

“Look at how fluffy those omelets are! Ooh, grilled chicken! And a bacon-and-egg tart!” Grim was swooning.

“Shhhh! Dude, inside voices! Where was all this energy earlier today?” Ace hushed him.

“Yuuken, grab me the grilled chicken! There’s only one left! And an omelet too! And that jelly-filled bread. Just fill your whole tray, will ya? Ow!”

“Hey! Watch where you’re going! My carbonara! You broke the yolk!”

“Whoa, that’s messed up! Poking the egg is the best part! You better make this right, dude!” a boy yelled, grabbing the attention of some passersby.

“I’m gonna need that grilled chicken of yours as compensation,” the delinquent said, reaching for the chicken.

“Myah?! No way! Hands off the bird, dude! I need my protein because I am HANGRY!” Grim pulled his tray away from prying hands.

“Hey! That’s no way to talk to an upperclassman! Meet me outside, and I’ll teach you some respect!” an older boy with magenta hair threatened.

[Name] stepped in front of Grim, intervening. “Are you seriously about to fight a freshman over an egg mishap?! I’m pretty sure you’ll be fine eating it like that.”

The delinquent sized her up, a smirk creeping onto his face. “Are you his owner? You should take responsibility for your little friend. Y’know,I’ve always liked my girls with a bit of an attitude.” He placed a hand on her shoulder while his friend snickered. “How’d a girl like you manage to sneak in here anyway?”

[Name] felt her blood boil, her eyebrows twitching in irritation.

“Uh oh…” Yuuken grabbed Grim and stepped back, knowing what was about to go down. He glanced at [Name], noticing her glow shifting from pale yellow to a fierce blood red. Deuce, sensing the tension, gripped the delinquent’s wrist and yanked it away from [Name].

"Excuse me, sir, but the handbook clearly states that fighting with magic is prohibited. I suggest you remove your hand from her shoulder,” Deuce said, narrowing his eyes, nervousness flickering in his stance.

“Fighting?” the white-haired student glared, “You’ve got it all wrong. I’m just helping this ignorant freshman understand his place.”

The magenta-haired friend grinned wickedly, “Now, let’s see just how many ways there are to skin a cat, heh!”

Sorry for the late chapter I’ve been under the weather recently😥😓 I’ll try making the next chapter as soon as possible 🤍

Taglist : @itwaszzmoon @brights-place @capcryooo

[hjvi]

𝙉𝙤𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙜𝙞𝙖 PART 2 part one (optional)

Pairing: Bf!Chris x Fem!Reader

Summary: After the breakup, Chris reaches out to Y/N's therapist, desperate to understand what she's been sharing post-split, hoping to find a way to fix things before it’s too late.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Heartbreak. Angst.

Word Count: 8k

CHRIS POV

The sunlight streams through the blinds, forcing its way into the room and pulling me from a restless sleep. For a split second, I feel the warmth of it on my face and instinctively reach my arm across the bed.

“Good morning,” I mutter softly, my voice thick with sleep.

But the bed is cold. My hand grazes nothing but empty sheets, and reality hits me all over again. She’s not here. She hasn’t been here for weeks.

The hollow ache in my chest flares up again, as it does every morning, but I push it down, swallowing the lump in my throat. I throw the covers off and sit on the edge of the bed, my hands in my lap as I stare at the floor. For a moment, I just sit there, unmoving, as the weight of it all presses down on me.

I eventually force myself to stand, dragging my feet as I make my way to the bathroom. The mirror above the sink catches my eye, and I hesitate for a second before looking into it.

The reflection staring back at me doesn’t even look like me anymore. My eyes are sunken, dark circles heavy beneath them from the countless nights I’ve spent tossing and turning. My hair sticks out in every direction, unkempt and messy, like I haven’t cared enough to fix it. My skin is pale, almost lifeless. I look like a ghost of the person I used to be.

I grab my toothbrush and start brushing my teeth, the minty taste sharp on my tongue. I stare into the mirror as I do it, unable to look away from the version of myself staring back at me. The movements are automatic, robotic, like I’m just going through the motions because I have to.

Rinsing my mouth, I splash some cold water on my face, hoping it’ll wake me up or at least make me feel something. The water is icy, shocking against my skin, but it doesn’t help. I dry my face with a towel, toss it onto the counter, and take a deep breath.

I head back to my room, pulling on the first clothes I can find—a hoodie and some sweats. I don’t even care if they match. What’s the point? No one’s going to see me anyway.

The stairs creak as I make my way down to the kitchen. The house is quiet except for the faint hum of the fridge. I grab a glass from the cupboard, fill it with water, and lean against the counter as I drink. The cool liquid soothes my dry throat, but it doesn’t do anything for the heaviness in my chest.

The sound of footsteps pulls me out of my thoughts. I glance up to see Nick and Matt walking into the kitchen. Great.

They exchange a quick look before Nick speaks up. “Chris, you can’t keep going on like this.”

I don’t respond, staring down at the glass in my hands.

“You need to figure something out. This can’t keep going forever,” Nick continues, his voice firmer this time.

“If you love her, why did it end?”

That question cuts through me like a knife, and for a moment, I can’t breathe. My grip tightens on the glass, and I feel the lump in my throat growing, making it harder to hold everything in.

The pause that follows is deafening.

“Chris, I’ve never seen you like this,” Nick says, his voice softer now, like he’s trying to reach me. “Please talk to us. We’re only here to help you.”

I shake my head, barely processing his words. It’s too much. Talking about it means reliving it, and I don’t think I can do that.

Matt steps forward, his tone more encouraging. “Well, you need to talk to someone—anyone. Maybe a therapist.”

The word therapist hits me like a punch to the gut. I’ve only been to therapy once, back when our parents practically dragged me there after I was first diagnosed with ADHD. I hated it. Sitting in that office, spilling my guts to a stranger who pretended to care—it felt fake, forced. Like I was just paying someone to nod and tell me I’d be okay.

I glance at Matt, shaking my head again, but his words stick with me.

Therapy.

I set the glass down on the counter, my mind drifting to her—Y/N. She used to go to therapy all the time for her anxiety. I remember the night she opened up to me about it. We were sitting on her bed, the room dimly lit by the string lights she had hanging along the walls. Her voice was shaky, and she kept fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie as she told me about the things she struggled with—the intrusive thoughts, the overwhelming panic that came out of nowhere.

I remember holding her, my arms wrapped tightly around her as I whispered that I’d always be there for her. That I’d help her through it.

And she believed me.

She started going to therapy less and less after that. She told me that being with me made her feel safe, like she didn’t need it anymore. Like I was enough.

But now…now I’ve become the source of her pain.

I close my eyes, trying to block out the memory, but it’s no use. Her face is burned into my mind, the sound of her laughter echoing in my ears like a ghost.

An idea suddenly hits me, sparking something in the back of my mind.

She must’ve gone back to therapy after that night. After the things I said, after I ruined everything, there’s no way she didn’t go back.

A small smile tugs at the corners of my lips—something I haven’t felt in weeks. If I can figure out who her therapist is, maybe I can get some answers. Maybe I can convince them to give me something—anything—to help me figure out what’s going on inside her head.

I know it’s a long shot. I know it’s probably not even allowed. But at this point, I don’t care.

This might be my only chance to fix things. To make things right. To get her back.

And I’m willing to do whatever it takes.

I slam the car door shut and storm into the house, my mind racing a hundred miles an hour. My heart pounds against my ribs, and I don’t even know if it’s from the frustration, the anxiety, or the sheer desperation clawing at my insides. My hands are shaking—I don’t know if it’s from the cold air outside or from the weight of what I just found out.

I need to find something. Anything.

I rush up the stairs, skipping two at a time, barely able to breathe as I push my bedroom door open. The room is dark, only the dim glow of my lamp spilling light over the mess I’ve been living in. Clothes are piled up in the corner, my bed is still unmade from this morning, and the air is heavy—like it hasn’t been touched by fresh air in days.

I don’t even hesitate before I start tearing through everything. I yank open my drawers, throwing out crumpled-up receipts, random guitar picks, and old Polaroids I don’t have the heart to look at right now. My hands move frantically, shoving aside hoodies and sneakers as I dig through the mess, my breathing uneven.

Then, I stop.

A hoodie—her hoodie.

Ralph Lauren, navy blue, the one I used to steal from her even though it was already oversized on her tiny frame. My fingers graze over the soft fabric, and I swear I can still smell her on it. Vanilla, mixed with the faintest hint of lavender shampoo.

My throat tightens.

I set it aside gently, like it’s something fragile, before continuing my search. I check under my bed, my closet, the nightstand. My hands skim over the remnants of us—the lip gloss she left behind, the hair ties, the tiny silver ring she used to wear on her thumb before she started playing with it too much and lost it between my sheets.

She never asked for them back.

A sharp pain twists in my stomach, and I have to sit down on the edge of my bed. My hands press against my knees as I stare at the floor, my thoughts spiraling.

She never asked for any of it back because she doesn’t want to see me.

She doesn’t even want to be reminded of me.

I imagine her in her room, sitting on her bed, maybe curled up with her knees to her chest like she always did when she was anxious. I can see her phone on her nightstand, face down, waiting for a notification that never came. Waiting for an apology that never left my lips.

I clench my jaw, squeezing my eyes shut. Why didn’t I call?

I should’ve said something. Anything. Even if it was just to tell her I was sorry.

My fingers dig into the fabric of my sweatpants as I try to breathe through the guilt.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I see it.

A small orange bottle, half-hidden underneath a pile of clothes.

I reach for it, my hands trembling as I pick it up. The label is worn, slightly smudged, but the name is still visible—Y/N L/N. My eyes scan the rest of the text, and my stomach drops when I see the words printed in bold letters:

Prescribed by Dr. Callahan.

My heart pounds in my chest.

I turn the bottle in my hands, my thumb tracing over the edges of the label. She hasn’t been here in weeks. If this is still in my room, that means she hasn’t been taking her medication.

Has she been okay without it?

The thought makes my chest tighten uncomfortably.

I exhale sharply, standing up so fast the room spins for a second. I grab my phone from my nightstand, my fingers typing the number on the bottle into my phone.

I hit call.

It rings.

My leg bounces as I wait, my free hand gripping the bottle like it’s the only thing tethering me to reality.

Voicemail.

I grit my teeth, but then I notice something—Dr. Callahan’s website.

I pull it up, my eyes scanning the screen so fast that the words blur together. The address is listed at the bottom. My heart stutters in my chest as I read it over and over.

I don’t think. I just move.

I grab my keys and rush out the door.

The waiting room is too bright, too clean, too quiet. The sound of the receptionist typing on her keyboard is the only noise filling the space, and it’s driving me insane.

I shift uncomfortably in the chair, my foot tapping against the floor. My hands are clenched into fists in my lap, and I’m pretty sure my knuckles are turning white.

The door to the office finally opens, and Dr. Callahan steps out. She’s a woman in her late forties, dressed in a blazer, with a calm but unreadable expression. She looks at me, then at the receptionist, and back at me.

“Christopher?” she says, her voice even.

I stand up so fast the chair scrapes against the floor. “Yeah.”

She glances at the receptionist before nodding for me to follow her. I do, my heart hammering against my ribs.

The office is small but warm, the walls lined with bookshelves and framed diplomas. There’s a couch, a chair, a desk—everything you’d expect in a therapist’s office.

She sits behind her desk and gestures for me to sit. I do, leaning forward, elbows on my knees.

“I don’t usually take walk-ins,” she says, folding her hands together.

“I know,” I blurt out. “I just—I needed to talk to you.”

She raises an eyebrow. “About?”

“Y/N.”

Her face doesn’t change, but I swear I see a flicker of something behind her eyes.

“I can’t discuss—”

“I know. I know, you can’t tell me anything confidential,” I interrupt, my voice shaking. “But I just—I need to know. Is she okay?”

She exhales, tilting her head slightly. “Chris, I understand that you’re worried, but I can’t disclose any details about my patients.”

I swallow hard, gripping my knees. “Please. I don’t—I don’t know what to do.” My voice breaks slightly, and I hate myself for it.

Dr. Callahan studies me for a long moment before sighing, leaning back in her chair.

“What I can tell you,” she says carefully, “is that you should return her medication.”

I stare at her, my stomach twisting. “So… she’s okay to see me?”

Dr. Callahan’s expression doesn’t change. “No. Do not go yourself. Maybe leave it at her door.”

I clench my jaw. “Why?”

She exhales again, standing up and grabbing her coat. “Because she’s not ready to see you right now. You really hurt her, Chris. That’s all I’m going to say.”

The words hit me harder than I expect them to. My throat feels tight, my chest aching like someone’s squeezing it.

I nod slowly, standing up.

“Thank you,” I mutter.

She doesn’t respond, just watches me as I turn and leave the office.

When I get home, I’m exhausted.

I drop my keys on the counter and run a hand down my face, exhaling slowly. The conversation replays in my head, over and over, until I can’t take it anymore.

I grab my phone.

I dial her number.

It rings.

And rings.

And rings.

Voicemail.

I call again.

And again.

And again.

Thirty times.

Nothing.

I grip the phone tightly before finally pressing the voicemail button.

“Hey… it’s me,” I say, my voice hoarse. “I—uh, I have your medication. I just wanted to—” I pause, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I just wanted to see you. Just for a second. Please call me back.”

I hang up, staring at the screen.

The silence is unbearable.

I can’t stop thinking about her, about what Dr. Callahan said.

I’ve hurt her. Badly.

The thought of her sitting alone, trying to get through each day without her medication, without me, makes my stomach churn. She’s struggling, and it’s because of me.

I hear voices upstairs.

Nick’s laugh echoes faintly down the hallway, followed by the sound of Matt’s voice, a little louder, more animated. I know exactly where they are—Matt’s room. They’re probably streaming or recording, trying to keep the channel alive while I’ve been... well, absent.

I climb the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. When I reach the top, I pause for a second outside Matt’s door. I can hear them laughing, joking with each other like they always do, but there’s something in their tone that feels... forced.

I push the door open without knocking.

The room is lit by a neon blue light strip that lines the walls, casting an eerie glow over everything. Matt is sitting in his gaming chair, his headset on, while Nick is sprawled out on the bed, scrolling through his phone.

They both look up the second I step inside.

“Chris?” Matt says, pulling off his headset. His eyes widen when he gets a good look at me.

I probably look like shit. My hair’s a mess from running my hands through it so many times, my hoodie is wrinkled, and my eyes feel swollen from the lack of sleep.

Nick sits up straighter, his brow furrowing. “Dude, you good?”

“I’m fine,” I mutter, stepping further into the room. I can hear the faint chatter of the Twitch stream coming from Matt’s computer. A quick glance at the screen shows the chat scrolling rapidly, the viewers probably wondering what’s going on.

Matt looks from me to Nick and back again before turning to his setup. “Uh, guys, hang on a second,” he says into the mic. “We’ve got a little... interruption here.”

“Don’t stop,” I say quickly, my voice hoarse. “I don’t care if the camera sees me.”

Nick and Matt exchange a look, their worry written all over their faces.

“You sure?” Matt asks carefully.

I nod, collapsing into the chair next to him. My legs feel like jelly, and the moment I sit down, it’s like all the exhaustion hits me at once.

Matt adjusts the camera angle slightly, so I’m in the frame now. The chat immediately explodes with messages.

“Yo, it’s Chris!” “Where have you been???” “Are you okay???” “Chris, we miss you!”

Matt clears his throat awkwardly. “So, uh, I know you’re all wondering what happened to Chris and why we haven’t been uploading with him...”

Nick’s elbow jabs into Matt’s side so fast it makes me flinch. “Shut up, dude,” Nick hisses, his voice low enough that the mic probably didn’t pick it up.

I glance at the screen, trying to focus on the chat, but the words start to blur together. My chest tightens, and I feel the familiar sting of tears welling up in my eyes.

I swallow hard, leaning closer to the mic. “Hey, guys,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

The chat goes wild again.

“Chris!!!” “Where have you been???” “Are you crying???”

I force a shaky smile, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from falling. “I’m sorry I haven’t been here lately,” I say. My voice cracks, and I quickly clear my throat. “I miss you guys more than ever, and I hope to see you all normally again very soon. I just haven’t been feeling my best.”

The words come out heavier than I expect. They’re for the fans, sure, but deep down, I know who I’m really talking to.

Her.

I glance at the screen again, trying to focus, but the tears keep blurring my vision. My hands grip the edge of the desk, my knuckles turning white.

“Guys, if you can hear me,” I say, forcing a small laugh to mask the emotion in my voice, “let me know.”

Matt glances at me, his concern obvious, but he doesn’t say anything.

Nick shifts uncomfortably on the bed, his eyes darting between me and the screen.

I lean back in the chair, running a hand through my hair. My heart is pounding in my chest, and my mind is racing. What if she’s watching? What if she sees this?

The thought is almost too much to handle.

Suddenly, my phone buzzes in my hoodie pocket.

I freeze.

For a second, I think I’m imagining it. But then it buzzes again.

I pull it out slowly, my hands trembling as I unlock the screen.

My breath catches in my throat.

It’s her.

Come over.

Nothing else.

My heart skips a beat, and for a moment, I can’t move. My eyes stay glued to the screen, rereading the message over and over again.

Nick and Matt are both staring at me now, their faces a mix of confusion and concern.

“I... I gotta go,” I say abruptly, standing up so fast the chair nearly tips over.

“Chris, wait—” Matt starts, but I’m already out the door.

I fly down the stairs two steps at a time, my heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst out of my chest. The phone is still clutched in my hand, the words "Come over" seared into my brain like a lifeline.

I don’t stop moving. My thoughts are a chaotic mess, but one thing is crystal clear—I need to see her. I need to see her now.

In the corner of the living room, there’s a small duffel bag stuffed with her things—things I couldn’t bring myself to give back. A hoodie she left the last time she slept over. A scrunchie she pulled from her wrist and tossed on my nightstand. A few bracelets, tangled together in a messy knot. I grab the bag and toss it over my shoulder,my hands shaking so much I almost couldn’t manage the zipper.

Her scent lingers faintly on the hoodie, and it hits me like a gut punch. My chest tightens as I pause for a second, staring down at the bag. What if this is the last time? What if she’s only calling me over to finally cut all ties?

I shake the thought away and slip on my sneakers, not even bothering to tie them properly. The laces drag across the floor as I grab my keys and practically sprint out the door.

The night air is cold and biting as I get into my car, my hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turn white. The drive to her house is a blur. The streets, the headlights, the soft hum of the engine—all of it fades into the background.

The only thing I can focus on is her.

Her voice, soft but firm, echoing in my head: "Come over."

I don’t know what to expect when I get there. Is she angry? Sad? Does she want closure, or does she want to talk? The possibilities swirl around in my head, each one more nerve-wracking than the last.

My hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turned white, and I couldn’t stop glancing at my phone on the passenger seat, just to make sure I hadn’t imagined the text. The world outside blurred together—the glow of streetlights, the faint hum of other cars, the dark silhouettes of houses passing by. It was all background noise to the storm of emotions inside me.

As I turn onto her street, my palms grow clammy, and I swipe them against my hoodie. Her house comes into view, and my stomach twists into knots. The porch light is on, casting a soft glow over the front steps, but the windows are dark.

I sat there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel and staring at her front door. My breath came in shallow gasps, and I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears. My phone buzzed faintly in the passenger seat, but I didn’t look at it. The only thing I could focus on was the faint light spilling from her living room window.

What do I say? What if she slams the door in my face? What if she doesn’t even open it?

She’s inside. The thought sent a jolt through me, equal parts thrilling and terrifying. I glanced at the bag sitting in the passenger seat, its weight feeling impossibly heavy. Her things. Pieces of her that I’d clung to for far too long, desperate to hold onto anything that reminded me of her.

I grabbed the bag and stepped out of the car, the cool night air biting at my skin. My breath formed small clouds in the crisp winter air as I made my way to her front door, each step feeling heavier than the last. The strap of the bag dug into my shoulder, but I barely noticed it. My entire focus was on the door in front of me—the barrier between us that I was so desperate to cross.

I stopped in front of the door, my hand hovering over the doorbell. My fingers trembled as I hesitated, the fear of what might happen next threatening to overwhelm me. What if she slams the door in my face? What if she doesn’t even open it? What if this is the last time I’ll ever be this close to her?

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to press the button. The faint chime of the doorbell echoed through the quiet night, and I stepped back, my heart racing as I waited. The seconds stretched on, each one feeling like an eternity.

The walk to her front door feels like it takes hours. Every step is heavier than the last, my heart pounding harder with each one. I can feel the chill of the night air seeping through my hoodie, but my palms are still sweaty, my fingers gripping the strap of the bag like it’s the only thing keeping me grounded.

When I reach the door, I pause, staring at it like it’s some kind of unbreakable barrier. My hand hovers over the doorbell, my breath shaky.

This is it.

I press the doorbell, the sound echoing faintly inside.

For a few agonizing seconds, nothing happens. The silence is deafening, and I feel my heart sink. Maybe she’s changed her mind. Maybe she’s upstairs, ignoring me, deciding I’m not worth the trouble.

But then, I hear it—the soft sound of footsteps approaching the door.

The knot in my stomach tightens as the lock clicks, and the door creaks open just a sliver.

And there she is.

She looks... different. Tired, maybe. Her eyes are slightly puffy, like she’s been crying, and her hair is pulled back in a messy bun. She’s wearing an oversized sweatshirt that swallows her frame, and her bare feet peek out from beneath the hem of her sweatpants.

Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, neither of us says anything.

God, I missed her.

“Hey,” I finally manage, my voice barely above a whisper.

She doesn’t say anything. Her gaze flickers to the bag slung over my shoulder, and her lips press into a thin line.

“I, uh...” I clear my throat, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. “I brought your stuff. I figured you might want it back.”

Her eyes soften just a little, but her expression is guarded.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, her voice so quiet I almost don’t hear it.

I set the bag down gently on the porch, my hands lingering on the strap for a second before I straighten up.

The knot in my stomach tightens as the lock clicks, and the door creaks open just a sliver.

And there she is.

She looks... different. Tired, maybe. Her eyes are slightly puffy, like she’s been crying, and her hair is pulled back in a messy bun. Loose strands frame her face, wild and untamed, as if she’s been running her fingers through them all night. She’s wearing an oversized sweatshirt that swallows her frame, the sleeves falling past her wrists, and her bare feet peek out from beneath the hem of her sweatpants, toes curling slightly against the hardwood floor.

Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, neither of us says anything.

God, I missed her.

My throat goes dry. It’s like my brain short-circuits at the sight of her, my body forgetting how to function for a beat too long.

“Hey,” I finally manage, my voice barely above a whisper.

She doesn’t say anything. Her gaze flickers to the bag slung over my shoulder, and her lips press into a thin line. There’s hesitation there, a wall built between us, but I see the cracks in it—the way her fingers tighten on the edge of the doorframe, the way her chest rises and falls just a little too fast.

“I, uh...” I clear my throat, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, suddenly unsure of myself. “I brought your stuff. I figured you might want it back.”

Her eyes soften just a little, but her expression is guarded, like she doesn’t know whether to let me in or push me away.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, her voice so quiet I almost don’t hear it.

I set the bag down gently on the porch, my hands lingering on the strap for a second longer than necessary before I straighten up. There’s so much I want to say, so much I need to explain, but the words knot in my throat, tangled with all the emotions I haven’t been able to process. I swallow roughly and turn to leave, but then—

A tap on my shoulder. Gentle, hesitant.

“Chris,” she says, barely above a whisper. “You can come in... if you want.”

Her voice wavers slightly, but the invitation is there. A lifeline I never expected.

I nod, stepping inside carefully, like the floor beneath me might give out at any second. The second I cross the threshold, nostalgia slams into me so hard it almost knocks the breath from my lungs. The familiar scent of her home—vanilla candles mixed with the faintest trace of her perfume—wraps around me like a ghost, pulling me under. My chest tightens as my eyes flicker around the space, absorbing every detail.

She leads me to her room, her fingers gripping the bag tightly as if it’s the only thing keeping her steady. When we step inside, I notice everything at once—the unmade bed, the pile of clothes on the chair, the half-empty water bottles on the nightstand. It looks... wrecked. Torn apart. A reflection of how she’s been feeling, how she’s been surviving without me.

My stomach twists at the realization.

I sit beside her on the bed, the mattress dipping under my weight. She places the bag in front of her, hands trembling slightly as she unzips it. She doesn’t say anything at first, just starts pulling out her things one by one, setting them on the bed between us. Her face is unreadable, emotionless, but I see the way her fingers hesitate over certain items, how her breath catches when she picks up something tied to a memory.

Then she freezes.

A small, plastic box sits in her palm. Plan B. Her fingers tremble as she lifts it, her other hand brushing over the familiar silver foil of a condom wrapper.

Her expression shifts. Confusion. Realization. A flicker of something deeper, something more painful.

I feel my throat close up.

Shit. I hadn’t meant to put those in there. I wasn’t thinking—I had just shoved everything into the bag, desperate to get out of my house, desperate to see her. But now, sitting here, watching the way she looks at me, I realize what I’ve done. What this means.

The weight of it crashes down on both of us at the same time.

Me returning these things wasn’t just about giving her stuff back. It was a silent message. A quiet, unspoken truth that neither of us wanted to face.

This was me saying we’d never be that close again. That I’d never hold her against me like she was my entire world. That I’d never press my lips to her skin, whispering promises into the crook of her neck. That I’d never watch her breath hitch, her stomach hollowing out as she lost herself in me.

The morning she was hungover and wanted me to make love to her—it was the moment I broke. The moment I left. And now, this moment? It was the silent echo of that pain.

She inhales sharply, her eyes darting to mine.

“Chris...” she starts, voice unsure, awkward. “I—I’m sorry for... you know... that night. I didn’t mean what I said.”

Her voice is small, fragile, and it shatters something inside me.

I shake my head, cutting her off before she can keep talking. Before she can say something that might break me even more.

“No,” I say, my voice thick, heavy with emotion. “Don’t. Don’t apologize for that. That’s not... that’s not what this is about.”

She blinks at me, confused, but I don’t stop. The words pour out of me, messy and desperate and raw.

“I’m so sorry,” I breathe, my chest tightening. “For everything. For the way I handled things. For walking away when all I wanted to do was stay. I love you so much, and I don’t know why I did that. I was just—I was upset. I thought you didn’t want me the way I wanted you. That you thought I was too much, too clingy, because I know I can’t stop. I don’t know how to stop when it comes to you.”

Her lips part, her breath shaky, but I don’t let her interrupt. I can’t. If I stop now, I’ll never say it.

“It took everything out of me to not make love to you that morning,” I whisper, voice cracking. “Everything. Because it wasn’t just about that—it was about us. About how much I love you, about how much I need you. And now, I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know where we stand, I just—I can’t do this, I can’t live with the thought of never being able to touch you again—”

My voice catches, and I choke back a sob, my hands gripping the edge of the bed so tightly my knuckles turn white. The emotions are too much, overwhelming, consuming.

But before I can finish—

She moves.

Her hands cup my face, fingers threading into my hair, and then—

Her lips crash into mine.

It’s not soft or hesitant. It’s desperate, full of every unsaid word, every sleepless night, every moment of longing that has torn through us like an open wound. She kisses me like she needs me to breathe, like I’m the only thing keeping her alive, and God, do I feel the same way.

Her lips are warm, soft yet demanding, moving against mine in a rhythm we lost but are now rediscovering. I groan into her mouth, my hands finding her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. There’s no air, no space, nothing between us except months of aching desire and the overwhelming need to feel her against me again.

Her tongue flicks against mine, and the taste of her—sweet and intoxicating, like vanilla and something uniquely hers—makes my head spin. My hands roam over the familiar curve of her hips, the dip of her waist, relearning her body like a map I had once memorized but was forced to forget.

I need her. Now.

Without breaking the kiss, I grip the back of her thighs and lift her effortlessly, pressing her against the wall. She gasps into my mouth, her fingers tugging at my hair as her legs wrap around my waist. My body presses against hers, every inch of me molding into her as if we were never meant to be apart.

I barely register the feeling of air brushing between us as I pull back just long enough to look at her. Her eyes—those big, beautiful doe eyes—stare into mine, wide and filled with so much emotion it nearly knocks the breath out of me.

I devour her.

My lips trail from her mouth to her jaw, down to the sensitive spot on her neck I know makes her shudder. I hear her breath hitch, feel her heartbeat hammering against my chest, and I smirk against her skin, pressing another lingering kiss right there, just to hear that soft whimper again.

I can't get enough of her.

With one swift motion, I pull us away from the wall and toss her onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath her weight. She looks up at me with wide, hazy eyes, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

God, she’s beautiful.

I strip my shirt off in one quick motion, and her gaze follows the movement, her lips parting slightly as she watches. Her fingers reach out, featherlight, and trail down my chest, hesitating over the bruises from the fights I’ve been in, before tracing straight down to my v-line. The soft touch sends a shiver down my spine, my stomach tensing under her fingertips.

I cage her beneath me, hands on either side of her head, our faces so close I can feel her breath on my lips.

“I missed you,” I murmur against her lips, punctuating my words with soft kisses along her jaw, down her neck, across her collarbone. My voice raw, filled with every ounce of longing I’ve held inside. “I love you so much. You have no idea.”

She shudders at my touch, her fingers threading deeper into my hair as she whispers, “Me too.”

Her hands slide up my arms, over my shoulders, threading into my hair as she pulls me down, our lips brushing once more. “I do,” she whispers against my mouth. “Because I missed you just as much.”

Her eyes flicker up to mine, full of longing, and I can’t hold back anymore. I cage her beneath me, my arms bracing on either side of her head as I hover just above her lips.

“I love you,” I whisper, brushing my nose against hers. “I love you so much.”

Her breath hitches, her fingers sliding up my arms, tracing the curves of my biceps. “I love you too.”

I trail kisses down her throat, moving lower, pressing my lips to the soft fabric of her sweatshirt. My hands slip under it, fingers grazing the bare skin of her waist, feeling the way she trembles beneath me. I slowly lift the material, kissing each new inch of exposed skin as I go—her sternum, her ribs, the delicate dip of her stomach. I can see her breathing unevenly, her stomach hollowing in and out as I press a lingering kiss right above her navel.

Her sweatpants are loose around her hips, and I hook my fingers into the waistband, pausing just long enough to look up at her. “Is this okay?”

She nods, but it’s the way she looks at me—her eyes locked onto mine, so vulnerable yet so trusting—that makes my heart nearly stop.

I tug them down slowly, letting my fingers brush against her thighs, and as I do, I catch sight of a small birthmark on her inner thigh. My lips curve into a soft smile, and I lean down, pressing the gentlest kiss right against it. Her breath catches, her fingers clenching into the sheets.

“You’re beautiful,” I whisper, my voice low, reverent. “So, so beautiful.”

Her lips part slightly, her chest rising and falling with deep, shaky breaths. I play with the delicate bow on the waistband of her panties, twirling it between my fingers, the gesture light and teasing. A memory flashes in my mind—her doing the same with the drawstrings of my hoodie the night everything fell apart. My throat tightens.

She watches me closely, her gaze never wavering, her eyes holding an intensity that makes my whole body burn.

I let my thoughts spill out, my voice raw, unfiltered. “I’m gonna give you exactly what you wanted that night.”

Her breath stutters, her fingers reaching up to thread through my hair as I tease my lips over the sensitive skin of her waist. I let my hands explore her gently, my fingertips tracing over the curves of her hips, lingering at the edge of her panties as I drag my mouth across her skin. She whimpers softly, her legs shifting beneath me, and I smirk against her stomach.

“Patience,” I murmur, pressing another soft kiss to her ribs. “I missed you, let me take my time.”

She lets out a soft, frustrated sigh, her fingers tugging slightly at my hair, but I don’t give in just yet. I kiss lower, my lips teasing along the waistband, my breath warm against her skin. Her breathing grows more erratic, her hands clenching at the sheets as she bites down on her lip.

Then I see it—a dark patch on the fabric of her panties. My smirk deepens as I drag my fingers over the damp spot, watching the way her thighs tense at the teasing touch. My lips ghost over her hipbone, pressing soft, lingering kisses before moving inward, tracing along the delicate lace trim.

I press a kiss right against the soaked fabric, feeling her entire body tremble beneath me. Her back arches slightly, a small whimper slipping past her lips. I hum against her, the vibrations making her shudder even more. My fingers toy with the waistband, pulling at it ever so slightly before letting it snap back teasingly.

“You’re so sensitive,” I murmur, my lips trailing back up to her ribs. “So needy.”

She lets out a strangled whine, her fingers gripping my hair tighter. I chuckle softly, running my nose along the crease of her thigh, pressing another open-mouthed kiss to the birthmark I adored. I flick my tongue out, just barely grazing the skin before pulling away again.

She gasps, her head tilting back, frustration written all over her face as her chest rises and falls with every heavy breath.

I lift my head, locking eyes with her, watching the way her pupils are blown wide with need. “Tell me what you want,” I whisper, teasing the bow on her waistband once more.

"I want you Chris, nothing but you."

I tuck my head into the crook of her neck, nuzzling her gently.

I feel her smile against my skin, and my heart swells.

Y/NS POV

His fingers were buried to the knuckle inside your cunt, brushing against a spot he knew better than you did yourself. You rode down against his palm, looping your arms around his neck, allowing yourself to whine against his throat as he pumped his fingers inside of you.

“Cum on my fingers, baby.” He murmured against your hair, hand tightening its hold on your hip as he moved his fingers within you. “Let me take care of you.”

Your brows furrowed together, hips stuttering in their movement against his palm. You could hear the soft rumble of laughter in his chest as he helped you regain your pace, muttering something incoherent as your whines turned into keens, your lips parted against his throat as you clutched onto the back of his shirt for purchase.

“Good girl.”

That was all it took for you to come undone, crying out his name against his neck as your cunt spasmed around his fingers. He pressed kisses to your forehead as you rode his fingers through your orgasm, his thumb never stopping its circling of your clit until you whined through breathless words for a moment to breathe.

You could audibly hear the sound of your arousal as he removed his fingers from your cunt, both digits coated in a thin veneer of your cum. He looked at you, smiling wickedly as he pressed the fingers to your lips. You quickly opened your mouth, tasting yourself as he pushed his fingers into your mouth, nearly touching the back of your throat in the process. You noticed his breath deepening, pupils blown as he watched you suck his fingers clean.

“Missed that mouth.” He hushed out, words breathless as he withdrew his fingers from your mouth. You leaned up then, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pressed your lips to his. His tongue sought yours, the kiss full of hunger and need, teeth clashing, and moans swallowed. You could feel his hard cock straining against his sweatpants, each shift of your hips on his lap causing him to all but whine into the kiss.

His hands moved to the waistband of your panties, trying his damnedest to tug them off you as you straddled him, only for him to pull away with a frustrated, “Help me take these off of you before I rip them off.”

You laughed, lifting yourself as your hands moved over his, removing your underwear, items of clothing falling to the floor with a soft thud. Your hand curled gently around his cock, lazily pumping it as you returned to kissing him.

He moaned into your mouth, brows furrowing together as your thumb swiped over his tip. It wasn’t long until his touch on your hips grew needy, thumbs pushing into your hip bones in a silent plea for you to get on with it already. You’d half a mind to make him wait, but you needed him just as badly as he needed you. With a short lift of your hips, you guided him to your entrance, sinking onto his thick cock seconds later.

The stretch had you whining against his lips, slick sounds pooling from between your thighs as you slowly rocked down against him, each movement of your hips bumping your clit against his lower stomach. You could feel his thighs tensing beneath you, muscles flexing in tandem with each canter upward of his hips, pushing him deeper within you.

His hands guided your hips, breaths coming out as short grunts whenever you’d squeeze around him. You could feel his cock dragging inside of you, brushing against that spot that had your thighs twitching under his hold. He trailed his lips from yours to your jaw, breath hitching against your skin in between open-mouthed kisses to your throat.

It was slow, passionate - everything you’d missed in the months he’d been absent. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers threading through the back of his hair as you rode him. He kissed down your throat and onto your chest, free hand moving up to cup your breast. You tightened your hold on him, head falling back as he bent his legs, planting his feet against the mattress as he fucked himself up into you.

The new angle and urgency had your cunt squeezing around him, legs giving out beneath you as he continued fucking you. He let out a breathless laugh, hands moving to your hips, essentially pushing you forward to rest against his chest as he rutted up into you, each thrust of his cock brushing against your g-spot in an almost blinding sense of pleasure.

Your hands blindly grasped at his shoulders for purchase, uttering pleas for him, words soon turning into incomprehensible sobs as the pleasure left you unable to do anything other than whine out his name against his chest. You could feel your cunt fluttering around him with each thrust of his hips, the movement causing you to rock forward, clit brushing against his lower stomach.

“You hear that?” He grunted out lowly, grasp on your hips tightening to an almost painful degree. “Hear how desperate you sound for me?”

With a strangled cry of his name, you came undone, cunt spasming around his cock as he pumped into you. You went limp against him, eyes squeezed shut as he fucked you through your orgasm, whispering words of praise against the shell of your ear as he chased his release inside of you.

“So fucking good.“ He grunted, words followed by a sharp thrust upward, tip pushing against your cervix as he flooded you full of his cum. You whined against his chest, feeling his cock twitch inside of you. As he caught his breath he lifted his hand, gently cupping your jaw to tilt your head back, eyes searching yours to ensure you were alright.

“‘M okay.” You whispered, voice barely audible. He nodded, sighing out a lungful of air as he leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead. You rested back against him then, shifting your hips slightly to make yourself comfortable - or as comfortable as you could be with him still nestled inside of your cunt.

“Just-“ He started, wrapping his arms around you to ensure you stayed put. “Just stay there, I’ll carry you to the shower later.”

A faint laugh left you as you allowed him to hold you close, knowing neither of you had the strength to move from the bed anytime soon. You’d have to call the front desk and get clean sheets once you did, but for now, you were content resting against him, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat echoing within his chest.

“I love you.” You whispered, moving your head to press a kiss over his heart, earning you an affectionate hum as he ran his fingers through your hair.

“I love you too, doll.”

A/N: Hey everyone! I just wanted to apologize for the delay with Part 2—I've been dealing with some heavy writer's block lately. On top of that, I'm working on multiple fics and writing requests, so it’s been a bit overwhelming. Thank you so much for your patience and for sticking with me! I’ve never written from Chris’s pov before, so any constructive criticism is more than welcome! I really appreciate you all taking the time to read my work! 💖

tags - @swagalicious260 @watercolorskyy @coquettechris @lovesturni0l0s @christmastreecake @ellbowmacaroni @blog-luvdance @sophand4n4 @meg4-matt44 @mommymomm @chriss-slutt @humpster35 @courta13 @idkwhatthisis2009 @yourfavoritefangirl @slutformatt17 @watercolorskyy @mylifeisevenstranger @suyqa @junnniiieee07 @thecrawlys

╰┈➤𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚, 𝒉𝒊𝒗𝒊

[pbaz7]

post uconn game debrief!!

obviously not p’s best game but she was just such a presence on the court even though she didn’t have a great game. i could tell she was just so upset with herself every shot she missed. she shot pretty well during warm ups so i was honestly surprised when she wasn’t making that many in game.

pazzi stuff i caught during warm ups was mainly just that p is so much more gentle with az than anyone else. she roughly high fived and screamed at sarah after making a shot and azzi who was one person down the line (and made the same shot) she lightly tapped and softly said “good job az” with a smile. and mind you this happened THREE SEPERATE TIMES.

p also tapped az on the back trying to get her attention for all of a whole minute and eventually gave up. she kept calling “az az az” over and over and azzi just couldn’t hear her lmao.

overall the game was insane and pb is still my goat but like also az and KC ily.

also hi author ily!

-🍉

omgg i’m so glad you enjoyed the game !!

i didn’t get to watch the game yesterday so i can’t comment much on it honestly 😭

p is so annoying bruh but i understand completely. there’s few things better than irritating your girl

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

Cigarette Smoke

Sang-Woo x reader

Masterlist <- comment on this post to be added to the Taglist

Note: I KNOW, I’m definitely a In Ho girlie through to my core, but I had a story idea and it really just fit him so much betterrrrrr.

Tw: smoking, drinking

You sat on the steps of your father’s apartment. You dreaded his arrival almost, knowing he was bringing back a buddy to stay in your apartment for a few days. Something about him losing his job and not wanting to tell his mother that he had to come home. Something bullshit like that.

Almost on cue, your father came walking up the street with his buddy. Your dad’s happy grin plastered on his face.

“Oh oh Sang-Woo!” He tapped his friend’s chest excitedly. “Meet my daughter! (Y/n)” he said proudly, brandishing you like a trophy.

“Hello, sir” you bowed your head. “Nice to meet you, my father’s spoken so much about you” you say faking a sincere tone of happiness.

“Please, call me Sang-Woo, no need for formalities” he replied.

“Dinners on the table. I got take out” you told the men as they headed inside, you trailed behind.

“So, (y/n), your father tells me you graduated from Seoul National” Sang-Woo says as he sips on a beer.

“Yes, apparently, I followed in your footsteps. I also graduated top of my class” you remark kindly.

“What did you study?” He asks, eying you carefully, his eyes lingering longer than they should. You catch his glance.

“Astrophysics” you take a drink of your beer. “I’m going for my PhD so I can work at KASA” you tell him.

“When does the program start?”

“Highly competitive, they only open spots once a year in January, and I just graduated” it was the beginning of May. You had a few months before it even started.

“Ah I see, so Gi Hun only has you for a few months” you mean I you threatened to correct. You could tell by the way he looked at you with his lingering eyes and how is eyes darted between your lips and eyes each time you spoke.

“Yeah, I was going to stay close to the university, but I decided to come home, anything I need to do, I can do from my laptop” you said. “But, who knows” you added, shrugging. You finished your plate.

“Where are you going?” Your dad asked. “We were gonna take a few shots and watch baseball, I know it’s your favorite”

“I was going to sit out and smoke for a minute” you say. “Habits. Sorry. Yeah, I’ll hang around”

“No Gi Hun” Sang Woo speaks. “I’m sure she doesn’t want to hang around us old guys.” He shares a laugh with your dad.

“No it’s really alright. I’m just going to smoke a cigarette and come back in. You guys are welcome to join. Even bring the bottle and a couple glasses out.”

“You know what (y/n), that’s a great idea!” Gi Hun says. “Let’s smoke on the back patio and drink, we can turn the tv so we can see the game”

After a minute or so of moving stuff around you guys were all settled in plastic chairs outside, watching the game through the open glass door.

“I can’t believe he missed that hit” you sigh. “I mean it was so fucking perfect”

“Take a drink” Sang Woo says. “I bet a shot that he’d miss the ball” you laugh and take a sip. He watched as you licked the excess liquor off your lips. He bite his lip to keep himself from smiling. No Sang-Woo. Stop thinking like that. She’s your best friends daughter. He told himself. But he couldn’t help it, your sex appeal was just so… fucking appealing.

“I bet he hits it on the first pitch” you say.

“I’ll take that bet” Sang Woo says. You father voiced his agreement. “Bet he misses it”

“Take your fucking drink old man” you say loudly. You stand and imitate his hit, a triple that brought in 2 runners. He watched your hips as they rotated with such ease. God, how he’d love to have his hands on you.

“I’ll bet you an entire pack of cigarettes and a bottle of whatever alcohol you choose that the Eagles chokes up in the final inning and the Lions win” Sang-Woo places a hearty bet.

“Oh you’re on.” You say. Your dad smiled and put a hand on your knee.

“Definitely my daughter, this one is” he tells Sang Woo.

“She takes shitty bets like you, too” Sang Woo jokes.

“Sang Woo has noooo idea what he talking about” You say, the drunkenness hitting you slightly. “The Eagles are not a losing team… and against the Lions please, they wouldn’t choke up in the final inning”

Around came the final inning, the teams were tied 3 to 3.

“I’ll add a second pack of cigarettes that the Eagles only scores 1” Sang Woo says.

“I’ll add a pack of gum that says the Lions only scores 1” you counter back.

“Deal” and there it went, the Lions was up to bat. A hit that scores a point, and got the third out.

“Damn it” you heard him mutter. You sat on the edge of your seat. First at bat was a choke, a clutch hit and on base to first. The second at bat was a base running out, a runner on third. The next batter, could mean a 2nd out or another on base.

“Oh suck it!!” You roared, second on base. All you needed was one batter to whack that ball out of the park.

“50,000 won says he misses” Sang Woo taps Gi Hun.

“100,000 says he hits a triple” Gi Hun counters his eyes staring at the screen.

“200,000 that he gets and out of the park” you chime in. You all pool your money on the table. You had all doubled up on your bets. You all sat quietly awaiting. 1 strike. You counted in your mind. 2 strikes. Sang Woo prayed there would be a third.

“And the batter hits a walk off. Oh my god, one of the greatest at bats South Korea has ever seen.” The announcer on tv roars.

“Fuckkkk” Sang Woo drawled. “Come on, pipsqueak. To the store we go” he sighed reluctantly as you picked up your money.

“Nah, let’s go tomorrow. There’s another game and we’ll need stuff to drink” you responded. He nodded in understanding. “Hey dad, where’s he sleeping?” You ask.

“I was gonna have him take the guest room since you’re back.” Your dad answers. You helped Dad into bed before setting up Sang Woo.

“Well, here’s fresh linens and a towel” you say. “Bathrooms the 2nd door on the left” You tell him before walking off to your room.

He made his bed. Putting on fresh pajamas and walked to the bathroom with his toothbrush. He walked past your room, stopping for a brief moment. You had your back to him, pulling up your shirt to reveal your spine tattoo. He shook his head and walked on, turning into the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and left.

Time skip: 2 am.

Sang Woo couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned but his aching cock wouldn’t let him relax. He decided he’d go out and smoke, hoping it’d calm him down.

As he lit his cigarette, he heard the front door open, your small figure appearing out of the shadows.

“Oh. Sang Woo” you said surprised. “What’re you doing up so late?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Decided I’d smoke to relax and try again. Yourself?” He asked as he fixed his glasses.

“I was going to do the same but I smoked my last cigarette while we were watching baseball. I’m on my way to get more”

“Oh, well, here.” He dug in his pocket pulling out a pack. You took one gratefully, holding your cigarette to the lighter he flicked open.

“Thanks” you took a deep inhale, “I’m still gonna go for some more”

“Ah we can do that tomorrow” he waved a hand. “We can share mine” you sat on the stairs and talked about your careers and college.

“So, your dad never mentioned anything about a boyfriend. You don’t have one? Or you just choose not to talk about it?”

“Ehhh, I’ve had a bad relationship in the best and just chose not to get into another one.” You said. “And you? No wife or kids?”

“No, none. A hook up here or there but I’m apparently hard to deal with” he laughs.

“Yeah, I agree. Real annoying” you say sarcastically. “I mean you seem perfectly fine. Make shitty bets but you know, other than that…”

“I do not make shitty bets” he said injured, causing a giggle to arise out of you. “If I’m being honest, that game you were watching, wasn’t live, it was from earlier today. I already knew the score. I just wanted a moment alone with you” he said honestly. You smile,

“Really?” You tilt your head. “I figured you’d be too… I dunno cold for that”

“What makes you think that?” His eyes searching yours.

“You’re just so calculated and deliberate. Messing with a 20 year old, much less, your best friends daughter, seemed too elementary for you.” He looked at you through his glasses, his eyes intense.

“Well is this deliberate enough for you?” He asked.

Taglist

@nakiio5775 @christinamadsen @sebbymybaby21 @xcinnamonmalfoyx @player279achlys @watasinekoru

[emsdevs]

The Return

Bear and Bug 🐻🐞

a/n: surprise!! kirby talked me into splitting this part up, so you all get one more part of the main conflict after this!! enjoy!!!

masterlist | NHL Masterlists | Bear and Bug Masterlist

Three weeks had passed since you arrived at Cole’s place, and he’s been trying everything under the sun to get you to return to the lake house with him. Today, after getting out of bed, you find out he’s pulled out the big guns. When you walk into the living room, you’re met with not only Cole but also Trevor and Alex. Apparently, Cole had filled them in on the situation, and they changed their flights to Montreal to come help. 

“C’mon. It can’t be that bad. I know for a fact Jack misses you,” Trevor is currently trying to encourage you to come with them, your packed suitcase sitting beside him. At some point during the night, they had snuck into your room and packed your bags, leaving you with no “good” excuse not to go with them.

“You talked to him?” your head shoots toward Trevor, hope filling your eyes. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as you thought.

“...No,” he looks toward the ground as he speaks, “but! I know Jack, and I know he’s probably falling apart at the seams if you two haven’t talked in three weeks. You’re his person. He’s probably dying right now.”

“Oh, great. I’m killing my best friend! This is exactly what I was worried about when Quinn and I got together. He’s been having such a tough time, and I’ve made it a hundred times worse. I’ll be lucky if he ever talks to me again.”

“You’re right. She is being dramatic,” Alex whispers to Cole before stepping forward to try to comfort you. “Look, sweetheart, the only way to make this any better is to bite the bullet. I know you’re scared, but you can’t keep running away from it.”

You were silent for a moment, shocked by the wisdom from Alex. After gathering your thoughts, you spoke, “You’re right. Let me go be sure you all got everything, and then we can head out.”

“No way that worked,” Cole couldn’t believe their plan worked in their favor.

“Bro, when did you become a shrink?”

~~

The tension at the lake house was higher than ever. Ellen and Jim had given up on trying to help their sons work out their issues, so they drove back home for a while, letting the boys stew in their anger. The boys had done nothing except that. Quinn and Luke silently shared an alliance while Jack either ignored them completely or began picking fights. 

“Hope you two are ready to go running back to your precious Bug,” Jack told the other two boys as he walked to the kitchen to grab a snack.

“What do you mean?” Luke answered, sass written all over his question.

“Trev just texted me. He, Alex, and Cole just boarded their flight. With Bug.”

“She’s coming back?” Quinn couldn’t hide the hope in his voice. He didn’t care how Jack felt anymore. He was miserable, and he needed his Bug. 

“Don’t get all excited. That doesn’t mean she’s getting back together with you,” Jack rolled his eyes.

“Don’t tell me you think she’s coming back for you,” Luke doesn’t even attempt to hide the sneer in his voice.

“She’s my best friend, Lukey. Of course, she’s coming back to get in my good graces.” 

“Are you kidding me? Look at how you’ve been treating her, Jack! We’re all lucky she’s even coming back at all!” Quinn is angry now. You’ve probably been hurting more than he has for the past three weeks, and Jack is acting all high and mighty like you’ll come crawling back to him. As far as Quinn is concerned, you don’t need to come crawling back to anybody. If anything, the three of them owe you an apology.

“Of course, you’re sticking up for her! God, she has you wrapped around her finger! You’re so whipped you can’t see that she’s the problem here!”

“No, you don’t get to do that. You know Quinn is right. You’ve been horrible to her, and she deserves an apology. From all of us, honestly. Jesus, I mean, she even put you’re feelings above her happiness. She and Quinn could have been so happy, but you were complaining about how horrible the NHL is every night, so her main concern was protecting you. Mind you, you are not one of the two people in that relationship, so the fact she took your feelings about it into account at all is a kind of grace that you obviously don’t deserve. Why don’t you get down from your high horse and think about everything Bug has done for you? Then, you can tell us if she’s the one that needs to apologize or not,” Luke doesn’t give Jack time to answer, walking off as soon as he finishes his speech. Quinn doesn’t hesitate in following, only giving Jack a sharp look before making his way to your room once again. He found Luke already there, so they sat on your bed together, putting on a movie and soon falling asleep.

Jack, now alone in the living room, takes the time to do as Luke said. He thought back to when he knew you’d be his best friend forever. You two had silently agreed to have separate friend groups at school, but when you saw Jack’s friends had left him alone one day at lunch, you left your friends to go sit with him. They stopped talking to you after that, but you were fine with it because you had Jack. He thought about everything you had sacrificed for him, even skipping out on joining an afterschool club because it would conflict with some of his game times. How many times had you put Jack first, even when you could’ve had something really good for you if you had put yourself first? He could think of at least one: Quinn. He’s a horrible best friend. 

Jack lost track of how long he sat there, losing himself in his thoughts that were slowly becoming more and more self-deprecating, but before he knew it, he heard the front door opening. Moments later, he jumps to his feet when he sees you walk into the living area.

“Hey,” he says, slightly out of breath.

“Hey.”

taglist: @heartsforjh @devilinpradaheels @coldheartedmar @juxmi @puckmedude @alexxavicry @dancerbailey3 @hockey43 @madebyhappymeals @ccomandercody @kirajessie @beenucks @iamspeed6

join the taglist

[mrsnishimuraaa]

chemistry

PAIRING: riki x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: who knew a dance collab could create such a sweet bond between two idols?

GENRE: fluff , crack if u squint

this is not proofread (sorry) kind of short and a wee bit rushed but i have other works in the making i promise 😭

being in the idol industry was always going to be stressful why wouldent it be? but your worries almost always flush away when your able to dance. having met so many people that inspired you to get to where you are now enlightened you and encourages you to work hard. having danced ever since a young age and it being something you enjoy makes you love your job that extra bit more, and now you have the opportunity to work with nishimura riki who’s also known for his talent in dancing.

saying your excited is a understatement it’s so much more than that, but at the same time your nervous but you brush it off as you make your way into the HYBE building. the moment you make it upstairs to the practice rooms, your greeted by riki himself bowing and small hello’s fill the room as you both introduce yourselves. he leads you to the practice room where you assume your gonna be spending hours in for the next few weeks preparing for this award show, none the less you really don’t mind. the two of you sit in the middle of the room with a laptop, listening to songs and starting to think about what song your going to be performing. after what felt like a million years of search you had both come to terms with ‘been like this’ by doja cat. as it was already getting late, you decided to meet back in the morning to get a full day of choreographing together.

the following day your met in the same spot, having decided that you both wanted to work independently with each other , meaning there was no staff and no choreographer, just the two of you to figure it out on your own.

hours pass by and you have the basic of it all choreographed now you just have to add all the fine details and peice it all together. “your really a quick learner” riki shoots the complement at you, taking a sip out of his water bottle “ oh thank you, could say the same about you” letting out a breathy laugh. “god it’s so hot in here” you fan yourself as you scope the room for a fan or anything. “i know, hybe’s cooling system is broken at the moment” he laughs at the way you throw yourself onto the floor and sigh at his statement. “is this company not making millions” you sit up and he laughs, taking his hoodie off, leaving him in just a tank top and his baggy jeans.

whilst having your break you both snack and chat, cracking jokes and telling purposeless stories. the two of you have great chemistry not only in dance but in general. and when you get back to practicing the heat really gets to you “can i take my jumper off?” you ask purely just to make sure he’s comfortable with you being half naked “go for it, i would be barely surviving if i were you” he chuckles as he re sets the song back to the start over at the laptop. pulling your jumper over your head and throwing it over to pile with riki’s , leaving you in a provocatively small sports bra and your sweatpants.

riki can’t help but eye your figure down for a moment, admiring your flawless body as you adjust your pants to put them back in their original low rise position. but he quickly shoves those thoughts away when you speak “okay i’m ready” your bubbly giggle makes him smile. the playful side of the both of you starts to peek through as you get more comfortable with each other , but when explaining a small detail of the dance to you that you don’t get ends you up in a position of riki’s hands gently placed on your bare waist as he guides the movement, you watch in the mirror as he corrects your arm movement, yet still keeping his hand on your waist. (safe to say it took a while because you 100% were not focusing on the move at all-)

the ending of the dance finishes with body rolling against eachother, the synchronised movements are so satisfying to look at and especially as his hand snakes to rest on your waist as you move together. the song finishes and he immediately buries his face into your shoulder, hugging your waist as he practically collapses on you. “riki! your heavy” you joke, laughing as you try to scramble away but he only wraps his arms around you tighter, his tall frame encapsulating you.

he spins you to face him and you look up at his face, dark hair sticking to his forehead as his face shines slightly due to the sweat, the heat generated between the two bodies doubles as he brushes your hair behind your ear. “so pretty” he smiles at you and you can feel your cheeks grow redder. he slowly rocks you both side to side, it stifles a giggle from you, causing him to smile at you, god why are you so cute.

you manage to break free from his hold, laying down on the cold floor, he eyes you down whilst smirking “what” you laugh and look at him in question “nothing im just admiring you is that illegal” he jokes, pulling your legs to spin you on the floor, your laugh echoes through the room “help me up” you pretend to lay helpless infront of him, he rolls his eyes and offers his hand to you, as he grips your hand pulling you up, he wraps his arms around you once more. but this time when you go to look up at him he takes the chance and presses a soft kiss against your lips, the suprised yet flustered look on your face as your heart beats like it wants out of your chest. you pull him back into a soft, slow and intimate kiss.

his hands draw circles on your lower back as yours find themselves in his hair, soft and wet kisses being pressed against eachothers mouths as the sound of kissing fills the room. you have to stand on your tippy toes as he’s far to tall compared to you before pulling away to make eye contact with eachother and smile. he presses a kiss to your forehead, the intamacy of the moment immediately recharges your energy, but makes the room a hundred times hotter.

luckily (even after all the distractions) you were able to both go home with an award 2 weeks later, the hard work paying off and fans adoring the interaction of their favourite dancers, begging for more collaborations.

[harrywavycurly]

I just read the bumble story and I love how reader talks to Harry and the “we listen and we don’t judge” thing about his hands😂 I can see her saying that to him all the time and maybe he even says it to her a few times as well!

Hiii babes!!! Awe thank you for reading the Bumble Fumble!! I loved writing their dialogue, it was so fun because she just says exactly what’s on her mind and you know Harry was probably thinking “what does that even mean?” when she said that to him the first time!! But this made me think of some random convos they’d have where you use that phrase so I hope you enjoy!!💖

You can find the Almost Bumble Fumble: here✨

*these are just conversations so it’s pure dialogue*

Summary: You teach Harry how to properly use “we listen and we don’t judge” ✨

“I lied to Jeff and told him I had an appointment this morning so I could get off the phone with him because I didn’t want to listen to him tell me about his weekend because I knew it was going to be a bit boring and I wanted to make sure I had your coffee ready by the time you got here and I can’t fake being interested in what he’s saying and making coffee at the same time.” “We listen and we don’t judge. But thank you for putting my coffee so high on your list of priorities.” “Well I just know how you get without it.” “Kinda the same way you get when you can’t journal for ten minutes every evening before bed.” “Exactly.”

“Wait you said what to her?” “Harry you’re supposed to listen and not judge…and that face you’re making is telling me you’re totally judging right now.” “What? No love I’m not judging I’m-I’m listening. Continue please.” “Right well I told her that her dress wasn’t very cute because I just couldn’t let her walk out of the house not looking her best so she got mad and broke my favorite pair of sunglasses so I cut the straps off all her purses.” “Jesus remind me to never upset you.” “I was in high school Harry it was just normal teenage angst that’s all.” “Well uhm we listen and we don’t judge.” “Too late Styles…you already judged but nice try.”

“Niall told me he’s reading fifty shades of gray but told from Christian’s point of view. I didn’t even know that was a thing?” “We listen and we don’t judge. It’s good. I mean as good as fifty shades can be..” It’s good? I didn’t-wait you’ve read it?” “Harry…” “Sorry sorry. We listen and we don’t judge.”

“I cry every time I watch Taken because-” “We listen and we don’t judge. You can cry at any movie you want sweetheart it’s fine.” “Oh my god.” “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” “You really meant it! I didn’t feel any judgement from you at all!” “Crying is cool so of course I’m not going to judge you for it.” “I feel like a proud mom right now this is great.” “Glad I could make you proud but I don’t know…m’not really into the mommy thing.” “We listen and we don’t judge so that’s fine you don’t have to be into the mommy thing.” “Oh that was good…you’re quick.”

[witless-winion1]

Reread your fic and it got me thinking:

God Games reprise/parody but it's the crew in the afterlife discussing whether to help Odysseus during 600 strike. Different arguments and stuff but same musical structure.

After getting Perimedes but to the tune of the Aphrodite name intro in God Games stuck in my head, I need to share this concept with someone. Uh, Polities is Athena and the one in Odysseus's defense. Eurylochus gets Ares' bit (the Ares, Ares intro chant is Euryl-ochus). Elpenor gets Apollo's part. Idk who the others are. Zeus's bit is Hades because they're trying to convince him to let them leave the Underworld temporarily to go kick his brother's ass (except he's not a sore loser).

oh my god

oh my god

OH MY GOD

OH MY-

HOLY SHIT THATS-

wiaitwoaiyeaitwaitwaitwait

H A N G ON

Thank you for rereading my fanfic!!! :)

I feel like Eurylochus would be better as Hephaestus because he has MANY MIXED FEELINGS that cancel out to become a real emotional neutrality, like Hephaestus’s stoic neutrality, and both are one push away from deciding in the other’s favor. Does that make sense? I’m incomprehensible when excited

There’s not enough named men in EPIC to fill every role, so we might have to get…creative…

Thank you, you’ve cursed my brain to loop ✨~Periiimeeddeeesss~✨ or elPEnor 🦜

Zeus- Hades

Athena- Polites

Apollo- Elpenor (argument: Ody didn’t care enough to notice when he died on Circe’s island) (counter argument is that he was stressed tf out and still high on moly, he wasn’t great at counting heads, also it was Elpenor’s fault for getting drunk, like how Athena basically says “the sirens were trying to kill him, you dolt”)

Hephaestus- Eurylochus (the argument is literally the same as Hephaestus’s, but he’s on the verge of tears) (Poli just kinda murmurs something about it being many people’s fault, including Eury’s, and then hugs him, and Eury just barely chokes out his agreement)

Aphrodite- Perimedes (argument: is sacrificed six men to Scylla! And he gestures to six traumatized souls in the corner— counter argument is that there was no other way unless they’d all rather get thrashed by Poseidon instead of only six being eaten by Scylla) (or maybe he just points out how stupid it was to fix himself to the Cyclopes, and Poli goes “..a guy can make mistakes, can’t he? He’s just a man…”

Ares- ……an older, gruffer solider that’s bitter with Ody for just giving into Zeus’s demand to choose instead of using his Buff Brain like he has been this whole time (with the counter-argument that it’s LITERALLY ZEUS, KING OF GODS)? Or Hades pulls up a Trojan guard/solider that got killed, but idk how Polites would convince him…

Hera- I’m thinking either a) Persephone (because Zeus used his wife and also Persephone wanted to be included and Hades wasn’t gonna tell her no), and she’s already kinda “I’m fine with letting him go but I wanna mess with this funny little pancake boy” or b) a killed siren that Hades fetches, but he accidentally grabs a younger one that had no idea what was really happening during the massacre and is really confused so she just goes “uh-um, who? Some guy who wants to get home? Sure go help him but first you gotta sing with me” (like Hera’s disco battle)

it’s be fun if we could add Tiresias, Anticlea, or Astyanax in, but that probably wouldn’t work because

Tiresias- I can see him being irritated by Ody screaming in his face like an angry owl; he would be a good option, but I can’t see him fitting anywhere here

Anticlea:- are you kidding? That’s just Hades rigging the game in Polites’ favor. She’d say “YES GO GET MY BOY BACK HOME. EVERYONE’S WWAAAAIIITTIIIINNNNGGG FOR HIM” before Polites could even open his mouth. The entire verse would literally just be harmonizing the Waiting motif.

Astyanax: it’s a baby.

I’m actually so tempted to write the song or a fanfic about this, bestie you’re a fucking genius I hope you understand that

if anybody has any ideas or points, please please share them!!! This is such a cool concept

[your-unfriendlyghost]

No Class

 Aka making Stevepop fight

this fic comes from the h/c I have that Steve’s not really close to anyone at school except Soda and Evie, so when Soda drops out, Steve gets frustrated. I’ll cross post this to Ao3 later I think.

All the Stevepop here is platonic technically but they’ve definitely got…something goin on idk- any way you slice it they’re each other’s person ok? (This is also pre-meeting Evie, that’s why she’s not mentioned lol.)

(edit- wait no i did mention her apparently?? Idk I guess it isn’t pre-Evie??)

There’s also a little inspo here from this post by @dallasgallant - they posted it ages ago but yk I think abt it still lol. I dunno that I really did the concept justice here, as I don’t go….deep into it or anything, but it’s definitely present

-

“You can’t drop outta high school, man,” Steve says weakly. “You…you can’t.”

  Soda sighs, tilting his DX cap down over his face. “Stevie…” he murmurs, voice soft and pleading. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

  Steve shakes his head. He can’t wrap his mind around this. Soda can’t- he can’t just leave!

  “God, I dunno, take some of my shifts? Or make Ponyboy get a job?!” Steve says, running a hand down his face. “He’s thirteen, don’t shelter him like that-”

  “Jesus,” Soda mutters, as if there’s something obviously wrong with that that Steve isn't getting.

  “What?!” Steve snaps.

  Soda gives him a dull-eyed stare. “C’mon, he ain’t sheltered.”

  Steve scoffs. “Yeah, right- I’ve seen him cryin’ like a girl, and y’all just let him be a wimp. He's sheltered as hell. But Soda that ain’t the point-”

  Soda’s jaw clenches. “Aw, watch it, man.”

  “No! No, you can’t just leave, I won’t- you can’t- Oh, c’mon, we just have a year left- I mean, believe it or not, Ponyboy can pick up some slack ‘round here too-”

  Now Soda’s eyes flash, and he audibly snorts. “Shut it, you ain’t really one to accuse anyone of bein’ sheltered, Randle.”

  Steve freezes. “The hell does that mean?!”

  Soda shakes his head. “Nup- I shouldn’ta said that. Never mind,” he sighs. 

  “No! No, you tell me what ya mean!” Steve says, painfully aware of how shrill he sounds.

  “Naw. I shouldn’ta opened my damn mouth’. Just…just forget it, Stevie,” Soda insists.

  “Tell me what you mean, man, you said it, you gotta explain it!” Steve argues.

  “No! I don’t wanna talk about this right now, man!”

  “Spell it out for me, why don’t ya?!” Steve says, getting up in Soda’s face now. “‘Cos as far as I know, gettin’ kicked outta my own house all the time sure ain’t sheltered!”

  Soda shoves him back a bit, gently. “Jesus, I never said you was sheltered, I just said that Pony ain’t!”

  “No, no, I heard ya, don’t you go lyin’ to me now, Curtis,” Steve hisses.

  “Fine, ya really wanna know?!” Soda growls. “All I’m sayin’ is that you’re the only grease I know who’s got a three-story house, whose papa still makes good money, and who always has a wallet fulla cash! Yeah your ol’ man ain’t so great, but ya always have new clothes an’ shit-”

  “AIN’T SO GREAT?!” Steve yells, voice booming. “I SLEEP AT YOU AND DAL’S PLACES HALF THE TIME!”

  Soda flinches. “I know! That’s why I took it back! All I’m sayin’ is that you got opportunities that me or Pony’d kill for, and I dunno if ya even know it- but I know you ain’t sheltered, shit, man, I know it, okay?”

  Steve can barely hear him over the angry hot buzzing in his head. Opportunities?! Yeah right, what opportunities?! And the third floor ain't even a third floor, it’s just a damn attic room that Steve moved into for space! Ponyboy’s never been struck by his papa- and sure, Steve hasn’t either, least not after the age of five, but he’s been shoved hard which ain’t so different! Mr. Curtis never looked at Pony with a look burning in his eyes like he hated him. Mr. Curtis never looked at Pony with horror, realizing he’d hurt his son- Mr. Curtis never said GET OUT, because he couldn’t resist hurting him and needed him gone- 

  “Soda-” Steve says, voice high and loud, louder than he means it to be, “fuck-” 

  Soda looks at him, eyes wide, and Steve realizes he’s grabbed the front of Soda’s shirt.

  He huffs and lets go, stepping back and shoving his hands into his pockets.

  “I’m goin’ to Dally’s,” he grunts, slinging on his leather jacket. “Don’t wait up.”

  Soda, now tired again, says “Didn’t plan on it.”

  “...Good,” says Steve as he shoves the door open, because he can’t think of anything tougher to say. 

  “Steve?” Soda says, flatly.

  For a second, Steve thinks he’s gonna apologize, because Soda always caves first. He glances over his shoulder at him. “What?”

  “Don’t talk about my brother like that,” Soda says, voice low.

  “Yeah? Well maybe you shouldn’t be so sensitive,” Steve bites back. He slams the door.

  Boy, he wishes Soda had just apologized.

-

  On the drive to Dally’s, Steve feels sick. His stomach twists as he replays the conversation in his head.

  Who is he to call Soda sensitive? Steve’s as sensitive as they come. Well, not sensitive, he’s no Ponyboy. Reactive, maybe. 

  But then again- what was Soda on about?! Dropping outta school?! Just to coddle the damn kid?! Steve swallows feverishly at the thought of school without Soda. 

  What about him?! Doesn’t Soda care? It ain’t hard to work at thirteen, Steve started at sixteen but he knows plenty of guys who started younger- Why should Soda bear the burden of leaving school? Why does Ponyboy get to stay?! Sure he’s leavin’ junior high a year early, but he can do school and work at the same time, can’t he?!

  Why’s Soda always gotta sacrifice himself for a spoiled little kid?

  Steve turns a corner too fast and gets honked at. Dammit. He rolls his eyes.

  Doesn’t Soda care about the fact that Steve’s gotta stay in school, and he can’t do that without Soda?!

  And yeah, the Curtises are low on funds, and yeah, Steve isn’t, but he ain’t a Soc either! He doesn’t- he doesn’t buy new clothes all the time- well, sure he has three leather jackets, but he got those for cheap at the charity store! 

  Plus, it was with money I earned from sleepin’ in the lot- Pony’s never had to sleep in the lot, Steve thinks madly. Neither has Soda- he just don’t get it…

  Steve’s not even sure who he’s fixin to complain to about it now. After all, if Soda don’t get it, no one else will.

  But Dal works. Two-Bit too, probably.

-

  Sometimes at night Soda paces. Back and forth, back and forth, in awkward dizzying figure eights. He flicks on the stove and walks to the icebox, turns around and walks back to the threshold where the kitchen meets the living room, and walks to the icebox again. It’s been a day since his argument with Steve.

  Two-Bit’s watching some show on the TV, maybe the Twilight Zone, although Soda’s not rightly sure. Two glances at Soda’s pacing, but doesn’t question it- maybe he would have, normally, but he’s half asleep as is, and besides, he’s probably seen this display plenty before anyhow.

  “Did you just turn the stove in with nothing on it?” Two-Bit asks instead, blinking.

  “Huh? Oh,” Soda says. He puts the kettle on the fire. “Oops.”

  “You gon’ remember to turn it off, ya airhead?” Two-Bit grins.

  Soda grins back, a little sheepishly. If the comment had been from anyone else, it woulda stung. But Two-Bit gets it. He knows the score. After all, he’s a month away from eighteen, yet he’s in the same grade as Soda.

  “You gon’ remind me?” Soda replies, cocking his eyebrow.

  Two snorts. “Naw- leave that to me, an’ you’ll end up with your whole damn house burned down.”

  “Aw, well, that’s just as likely if it’s left to me- I mean, I’m the dumb one, ain’t I?” Soda laughs, but he must’ve done a pretty lousy job at hiding the hollowness in it, ‘cos Two-Bit’s eyes soften.

  “No you ain’t,” Two-Bit sighs, tilting his head back.

  “Sure I am,” Soda spits. “Y’know, sometimes I gotta ask Ponyboy for help on my goddamn homework- you know that, right?” he says, whirling around and walking back to the sink, and then the icebox.

  Two-Bit’s shoulders slump. “Stevie was sayin’ to me and Dally the other night that you was fixin’ to dropout.”

  Soda stiffens. “He did?!”

  “Sorta thought he was just bein’ dramatic at the time, you know how he is…but I reckon he wasn’t after all, huh?” Two says pointedly. Two knows he’s right- when it comes to real knowledge, Two-Bit’s only wrong when it’s funny. He just wants to hear Soda admit it.

  Soda clamps his jaw shut. “That ain’t fair. Ain’t none of his goddamn business. Ain’t yours, neither.”

  “Okay, sure, I reckon that’s a fair assessment,” Two-Bit says easily. “You ain’t gotta tell me nothin’. …You will though, won’tcha.” He says it like a statement, and cocks his eyebrow.

  Soda scowls and opens the cupboard, getting out a box of cereal. “I ain’t got nothin’ to say,” he says, shoving a handful of cocoa pebbles into his mouth to prove he really doesn’t.

  “Right, you don’t,” Two-Bit says sarcastically.

  “I just don’t get what Sth-teve is so hung up ‘bout!” Soda lisps through the mouthful of cereal.

  Two-Bit smirks, like ah there it is.

  “Sthut up,” Soda groans.

  “Hey hey, my lips are locked, bub,” Two-Bit says innocently.

  “I mean Chrisht-” Soda pauses and swallows the last of the cereal- “he knows I ain't bright, what’s goin’ to school even doin’ for me?! It’s just a waste of time that I oughta spend makin’ money, makin’ myself useful! It ain’t like it’s some damn tragedy, I ain’t Darry!”

  “Hey, no one is,” Two-Bit says, patting Soda’s shoulder.

  “You know what I mean- I mean, I ain’t…I ain’t got no…what’s the word? For when ya could be somethin’...polenta?”

  “Potential, I reckon,” Two-Bit says. “I only know that ‘cause of how often Ma says I’m wastin’ it,” he adds hastily.

  “Yeah, well, I ain’t got none to waste,” Soda sighs. “I ain’t a sport, I ain’t a brain, and the only classes I’m passin’ are gym and shop. What the hell is the point? Steve oughta know that!”

  “Steve oughta know a lotta things he don’t know,” Two-Bit says, wiggling his eyebrows. “Y’know?”

  Soda blinks. “...Maybe I’m slow, but…ya lost me.”

  Two shrugs. “Well, Stevie-boy ain’t got the same problems as you and me, that’s all.”

  “Right, ‘cos he has more money.”

  “Well, kinda, but I mean he ain’t got no one he’s…lookin’ out for the way we do. He’s just got himself and his folks.”   “Just his dad, really. His mama ain’t been home from the hospital since we were like…fourteen,” Soda corrects on instinct.

  “See?”

  “So? He still can use his heart a bit, can’t he?” Soda protests. 

  “Sure. But when have we ever known him to?”

  Soda wants to protest, ‘cos that isn’t true, not exactly. When Mom and Dad died, it was Steve who held him, who didn’t need him to keep it together. It was Steve who signed up with him for double shifts on the weekends, because Soda needed the money but hated working alone. Steve watches out for Evie, too- when she needs a place to stay, to get away from her stepfather and her mom, she hides out at his place. 

  But Steve’s always disliked Ponyboy. Maybe Two’s right. Maybe Steve just can’t get it.

  But it isn’t like Steve hates the kid, either, right? He just cares more for Soda’s company than he cares about Pony’s grades.

  Soda chews his lip. It isn’t like he’s not sad to be missing out on time with Steve, either. Sitting in class, tossing notes at Steve, sneaking off campus with Steve, wrestling Steve in PE… They’re like the highlight of his school experience. 

  But he’s sixteen now. And unless he plans on getting back into riding rodeos any time soon, his future’s just gas stations, and maybe the army if he gets bored of gas stations. There’s just no point in putting it off if it’s coming either way.

  So yeah, he’ll miss Steve, but Steve’ll just have to deal…right?

  “He just keeps sayin’ it isn’t fair, ‘cos I reckon he’ll miss me,” Soda mutters.

  “Well it ain’t like you’re abandonin’ him,” Two-Bit shrugs. “He’s bein’ dramatic.”

  “He is dramatic,” Soda sighs. Steve’s always been dramatic. 

  But Soda…kinda gets it.

  Steve’s a pretty lonely guy. He’s got Soda, sometimes Two-Bit, sometimes Dally. And he’s got his old man, and his ma, but only when she’s conscious enough to talk.

  Soda puts the cereal box away. “Hey Two, tell Darry I’m at Steve’s place, yeah?”

  Two-Bit smiles faintly. “What’re ya gonna say?”

  “I’ll figure that out when I get there.”

-

  “Hey Steve, come on a walk with me?” Soda says. He’s breathless and red-faced, like he ran here, and is cupping his hands ‘round his mouth to yell up from the backyard.

  He’s gotta do that, ‘cos my room’s on the third floor, Steve notes miserably. He really is the only greaser he knows who lives in a house with three stories. 

  He wants to fly out the window and throw his arms around Soda. Sure, Soda’s wrong, but still…

  He resists that urge though, and instead, he leans out the window and says “I’ll meet ya downstairs.”

  “Tuff.”

  Outside, Soda gives him a little smile. “The uh…weather’s nice, huh?”

  “It’s May,” Steve says. He cringes. He didn’t mean to sound smart-mouthed.

  “Yeah,” Soda says, scrunching his nose. “I guess.”

  “I ain’t…I ain’t a Soc, Soda,” Steve mutters. Sure his old man has a good job and a college degree. They still live on the East Side. Steve’s still never gonna get outta Tulsa.

  Soda nods. “I know that, Stevie. I shouldn’t have said that to ya. I’m not sorry for it though.”

  Steve scowls. “Then what’re ya here for?”

  “To take a walk with my best buddy,” Soda answers, tossing an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “C’mon.”

  He leads them down the street, out towards the empty lot. 

  “I don’t like school, Steve,” Soda says, running his hand along a chain link fence. “You know that.”

  “No one does,” Steve mumbles. “That’s why they gotta force ya.”

  “Pony does,” Soda says, nudging Steve’s shoulder. “Pony digs school pretty okay.”

  “…I guess.”

  “And y’know, he’s pretty damn good at it, too. Gets all As n’ all.”

  “Except in math,” Steve corrects. Ponyboy definitely got a B- in math last semester.

  “Except in math,” Soda says, smiling. “But the point is, he’s got somethin’ special. He’s got a brain. And he’s gonna get outta this town someday.”

  “Yeah, he’s a real Einstein, huh,” Steve grunts, a stab of irritation in his gut. All hail Ponyboy, child genius, better than downtown hoods like Steve and Soda. “We get it.”

  “C’mon, I gotta be able to support that, y’know?” Soda says, ruffling Steve’s hair. 

  Steve swallows. Fine. Sure. He gets it. He does.

  “But that don’t mean I don’t wanna be ‘round you, you dig?” Soda says.

  Steve’s breath hitches. “Oh- Soda, ‘course I know that,” he says, although he’s not rightly sure he did a second ago.

  “Okay. Fine,” Soda says, amusedly. “But you get it, right? I mean, you’re the only thing I’m gonna miss about that damn school building, savvy?”

  Steve smiles. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. Just ‘cos we ain’t gonna have class together don’t mean we’re gonna not…stick together, okay?”

  “It’ll be different,” Steve says, maybe just to be stubborn.

  “Yeah, but not really. You’ll have Two and Dal and Johnny.”

  “Not really. They got other buddies. And it ain’t the same.”

  “Of course it ain’t. Ain’t no one in the world who I like the way I like ya, Stevie. You’re special, and I reckon I’m special to you in the same way, huh?”

  Steve nods, looking at the cracks in the cement under his shoes. 

  “You’re my best friend, Sodapop,” he murmurs. He’s also Steve’s only real friend.

  “You remember how when Dal showed up, how you got all angry?” Soda says, squeezing Steve’s shoulder.

  Steve shrugs, even though he remembers it perfectly. 

  “Yeah, you acted like I was replacin’ ya or something,” Soda grins.

  “You both liked horses. I felt all left out and whatever. Sue me, I was eleven,” Steve says, flushing a bit. 

  “Well I stuck by ya anyhow, even though you’re scared of horses and we all know it.”

  “I’m cautious ‘round horses, not scared,” Steve protests, smiling a little.

  “Sure ya are,” Soda humors him. “The point I’m gettin’ at though is that it was different after Dal met us. Things were different. But I was still me, and you were still you, y’know?”

  Steve nods. “Yeah. I guess,” he says, leaning his head into Soda’s shoulder.

  “So you ain’t mad that I’m droppin’ out then, yeah?” Soda says softly.

  Steve sighs. He is. It’s illogical and unfair, but he’s a little mad still. He lets that throb and die though, in the back of his mind. 

  “I just…I’m gonna miss ya,” Steve says.

  “I’m gonna miss ya too. But we’ve always got work, and the weekends, and hell Stevie, it’s nearly summer, so you ain’t gonna have to worry ‘til September. And then after that, you’ll graduate and we can be free to hang whenever we want for the rest of time.”

  “I wanna hang with ya for the rest of time,” Steve says, so quietly he almost can’t hear himself.

  “Good,” Soda grins. “Me too.”

[ryoko-loves-roses]

Gotcha~

The Recruiter + In-Ho

A/N: HAPPY NATIONAL TICKLE DAYYY!!! Literally... this man deserved it so bad. I had so much fun writing this fic! Thank you to the person who asked for this. :) Have a great rest of your day, everyone. Summary : It was an ordinary day of work, or so The Recruiter thought... but little did he know that this 'ordinary' day would take a turn for the worst. ═════════════════════════════════════════ Ever since that stupid mistake, The Recruiter could not live the punishment down. Despite having a cocky smile on his face whilst he tried to recruit new people to play the Squid Games, it was always in the back of his mind. Every walk he took, it felt like he still had fingers digging into his sides and stomach - as humiliating as it may be, The Recruiter let out a sigh, picking up his briefcase again, just to take the subway to another station, to continue this loop of stringing vulnerable people into the cycle of death games. It’s been a few weeks now at least, and the thought was always in the back of The Recruiter’s mind. He can’t believe he let himself be humbled that quickly, and in that humiliating way? He should’ve slapped himself, angry at himself for being extremely childish and pathetic. After another day of work, he arrived at the disguised base. It would be hell if someone like Gi-Hun found this place, but it was really only The Recruiter’s ‘home’ to put it simply, since he’s a human, who gets tired… (even though he’s a fucking lunatic but yk we all have our faults LOL) The Recruiter walked swiftly into one of the bedrooms, sitting down with a tired sigh. He began to take off his shoes, untying them first, but he froze in his tracks when he heard three knocks on the bedroom door. That was weird - Usually, if he was needed somewhere, they’d phone him in on the walkie-talkie With a cautious stance, The Recruiter put a hand on the doorknob, carefully opening the door, though fully expecting someone to attack him - But no.

He froze once he saw that familiar black mask, he practically stumbled backward in shock and fear. I honestly think the one thing that could get him fearful like this was the Frontman, because he didn’t want to die yet - The Frontman didn’t say a word as he entered the room, his expensive shoes clicking against the hard, tiled floor. Fuck fuck fuck. What did The Recruiter do now? He’s been doing everything by the book, right? I mean - he hasn’t successfully been followed! What could he - A low chuckle escaped The Frontman’s lips as he raised up a hand, gently removing his mask. In-Ho glanced at the floor, where The Recruiter was currently sitting, practically frightened out of his mind - “Get up.” In-Ho ordered, and just like that, The Recruiter scrambled to find his footing. Once he stood up, In-Ho put his mask that was in his hand on the bedside table, and this is when The Recruiter started to question everything. What the fuck did he do this time? “Sir, I swear I have been doing everything asked of me-!” He tried to plead, but In-Ho only let out a low chuckle. “You think I’m here to punish you again?” He asked with a taunting voice before continuing. “It’s quite the opposite actually. I wanted to congratulate you.”

... Congratulate? Somehow, The Recruiter didn’t believe that at all. What the hell was this guy up to? “..Sir… pardon my asking, but - congratulate me?” I mean, The Recruiter could not believe it. Usually, he wouldn’t get any sort of praise, and for THE FRONTMAN to come to HIS room personally to tell him that? Absurd. In-Ho let out a sigh, a bit irritated about the height difference between the two of them while he talked, so he pointed to the bed.* “Sit.” The Recruiter let out a low sigh, but did as he was asked of him, …like a dog, which In-Ho is the ‘owner’ in this instance. Still not sure what this was about, The Recruiter questioned the man in front of him, which even he was nervous to do. “What is this fo -” Tch - The man was cut off by a poke to his ribs by none other than In-Ho, which like clockwork, made The Recruiter jolt in his seat, immediately bringing his knees to his chest to try (and fail) to block out the ticklishness of it all. “HEhy-! No! Wait-” The poor guy didn’t even get a chance to ask what the hell he did this time. In-Ho leaned down, a noticeable smirk on his face as he latched both of his hands onto The Recruiter’s ribcage, giving the man little time to prepare before immediately drilling all ten fingers into his ribs. The sound that the cocky man let out was deafening.

“FUHuHuHUck-! HEheHEY-!!” The Recruiter’s laughter was met by the smug smirk on In-Ho’s face. “My dearest apologies, but I was a bit bored after a few weeks of not hearing this sound.”  Damn this sarcastic bastard.. - “IHIHII DIHIIHIDNT DOHOOHOo ANYTHIHIHihiIHIng-!” As a reflex, both of The Recruiter’s hands gripped at In-Ho’s wrists, but he wasn’t budging as he dug mercilessly into The Recruiter’s ribcage - “I know you didn’t do anything… but I was getting tired of finding reasons to tickle you shitless.” In-Ho replied, absolutely no remorse in his tone as he annihilated The Recruiter’s ribs. The Recruiter fell back onto the bed, squirming like his life depended on it, but just to keep him secure… In-Ho decided to straddle the man’s hips, effectively holding him down while still drilling his fingers into his ribs with a smile. The man let out an ear-piercing screech, his head falling back and hitting the pillow - In-Ho let out a low, dark chuckle, deciding to make it worse. He shoved both of his hands underneath The Recruiter’s shirt, easily digging into his bare ribs, and holy flying fuck - If you had seen this guy right at this moment, you would never have thought that his job title would be brutal, right? He was laughing like a child, with a giddy smile as he squealed with ticklish delight (or torment?) Even so, his legs began to kick outward as a ticklish instinct, but luckily for In-Ho, he was straddled tightly on The Recruiter’s hips, wrapping his feet underneath him like a hold, so he wasn’t budging at all - I mean… The Recruiter could’ve used his hands right? Well, In-Ho was relentless, and even if The Recruiter tried to hit him off, he could easily block the flying punch.

“IHIHIiII- BhhAHahHA-” Goddamn - the once cocky salesman was reduced to nothing but a helpless, giddy, ticklish, and squirmy puddle, by The Frontman himself, and the worst part was that In-Ho never planned to stop anytime soon - that much was clear. “Damn… now I'm wondering why the hell i hired you for such a ruthless job when you die with laughter with only a few pokes.” In-Ho taunted, his fingers brutally scribbling and digging into each rib, even in between them - But, when The Recruiter had trouble breathing, In-Ho decided to stop… only to let him catch his breath. He continued to hold the other down, smiling down at him.* “I’ll make you a deal.” The frontman began to say, his smile turning into something more… devious. …Now The Recruiter was listening. “Let’s play a game, and if you win… I’ll stop tickling you, - but if you lose…” He trailed off, experimentally hovering his hands above The Recruiter’s ribs, - giving him the well-needed message. How ironic. The Recruiter, who is used to giving others games, is going to be forced to participate in one that will determine if he’s too humiliated to go to sleep tonight - Without much of a choice, he let out a shaky sigh, nodding his head. “..i’ll play..” And just like that, the game was off. In-Ho smiled, “Great. Raise your arms.” Again, without much of a choice, The Recruiter did as he was told, raising his arms above his head.

In-Ho smirked - that same fucking smirk that The Recruiter should be scared shitless about. “There is only one rule: if you can go atleast one minute without laughing, you win.” The Frontman stated, rubbing his hands together before teasingly wiggling his hands right above The Recruiter. He wasn’t tickling him yet… but was damn well about to. The Recruiter tensed up at even that little action, - knowing this would be a challenge for him. Without much of a thought, In-Ho’s wiggly fingers came crashing down into The Recruiter’s armpits without much of a warning, and holy shit - The Recruiter almost lost then and there, but he quickly bit his lip in time, which made In-Ho chuckle lowly. “So close… I’ll get you to break soon, trust me on it.” Right now, the only sounds In-Ho was getting out of The Recruiter were undignified whimpers, which was adorable and extremely pathetic to be honest. He clenched his hands into fists, his eyes shutting tightly as he fought HARD to stop himself from laughing. He thought In-Ho would at least be easy on him for this, but nope - he was brutal. like always.

He was absolutely dying - his face was red just because he was  trying to keep the laughter in, and it’s only been 20 seconds. In-Ho smirked devilishly. “Still not breaking? Hm, We’ll see about that tough guy.” In-Ho then shoved his hands right underneath The Recruiter’s shirt, smirking when his eyes widened - and with one word, all hell broke loose. ”Gotcha”~ One drill into his ribs and he practically combusted. Holy shit - who decided to hire such a ticklish man? The irony and hilarity of this situation was absolute gold. He tried to scrunch up, trying to lower his arms - but In-Ho smirked. “No. You lost, remember?” He reminded, this time forcing The Recruiter’s arms to stay up with one of his free hands before MERCILESSLY attacking The Recruiter’s ribs with the other. “This is your punishment.” ”IHIHIHII HAhaHAHATE YOHOHOOHOu-!” Ah… people say ridiculous things when they’re getting tickled out of their fucking mind, huh? - Maybe next time, The Recruiter won’t open the door.-