#Why have this been a thing for YEARS and no one does anything???

[withlovemark]

“FLYING KISS”

pairing: childhood best friend! lee jeno x nerd! reader | genre: rom-com | words: 23k

synopsis -> you and lee jeno go way back, as in diapers and all that. before he was known as the chill fuckboy, he was an all time nerd! just like you! tired of being a loser who can’t even get the guy you wanted, you badly needed tips and a makeover. who’s better to ask for help than your childhood best friend, who has proven that a nerd can be hot?

warnings -> guaranteed giddiness! pet name unlocked: bunny, two dumb idiots, jeno is a yearner!!!, slow burn? kinda but once it starts, it starts, mentions of: car crash, a deceased parent, too many side characters from other groups, +18, crude language, mentions of fuck-boys, parties, drinking, a fight between the boys, blood, a nasty cut, heavy on the smut! reader is a virgin, lots of fingering, oral (m+f), handjob, blowjob, mention of mutual masturbation, corruption kink, pop the cherry!, soft sex, exhibitionism, jeno is a dirty dirty boy with lots of dirty thoughts and a dirty mouth.

an -> the second installment of the loverboy series is yours! this one literally just flowed through me, i could not stop writing, squealing and giggling at this trope. i’m dreading leaving them behind. you do not need to read stupid cupid to understand this story but here are some important things to take note of: 1) jeno is the chill fuckboy, he does not like the whole hopping to one girl to another thing so he gets into a lot of meaningless situationships with girls he does not care about 2) jaemin is currently the only happily taken member of the dream fraternity, he calls his gf: angel. k, have fun reading, with love, c!

the library buzzed with the soft hum of university life filled with quiet chatter, the occasional laugh and the rustling of pages. there were small groups of friends in heated discussions, catching up on life or laughing over a joke. some were hunched over textbooks, deep in concentration, others were lost in their books, barely blinking, while a few had surrendered to sleep, heads resting on their arms. and, tucked away in the back, were the ones who thought they were subtle – furtive glances, sneaky touches, stolen kisses.

there was a place for everyone in the library and it was your favorite place in the entire world.

but right now, as you watch your long-time crush, third year business major, the soccer team’s mvp, jung sungchan, stick his tongue down a random girl’s throat, you can’t help but feel like your safe haven has been tainted.

the grip you had on your pencil tightens as your eyebrows furrowed at the scene that played out, jealousy taking over your features. out of all the places on campus, he had to choose your spot. you have half the mind to report to the librarian. you were already classified as the school’s nerd, why not add snitch to your dictionary?

“what’s that look on your face?,” your best friend’s voice pulled you back to earth, playful, as he plopped down on the seat next to you.

jeno has been fated to be your best friend way before you were even born. with your dad’s being the best of friends, it was written in the stars, whether you liked it or not.

but you liked it, and so did he.

if it wasn’t for jeno, you might have ended up a complete social outcast. thanks to his status and the fact that you were always seen together, people decided you were tolerably weird. you weren’t nose-picking weird or talking to yourself in the hallways weird, just…a little awkward.

and if it wasn’t for you, jeno probably wouldn't have made it into university to begin with. you tutored him in almost every class, every time he struggled with anything school related, he ran to you, from elementary school to university, you were practically his teacher.

they say university is supposed to be the place where you let go of your childhood self and finally grow up. yet here you are now, a third year student and you still haven't quite grown into the lady you were supposed to be. trends went over your head, fashion didn’t interest you and makeup was harder than your architect class. half your wardrobe was made up of high school leftovers, you were still sporting bangs that you had from middle school and you never really saw the point in “fixing yourself up.”

at least, one of you did — jeno somehow made his way into the dream fraternity and somehow earned the title the chill fuckboy. it was odd, seeing people start treating him differently. even odder when you started to see girl’s eyes follow him like he was some kind of lead in a main k-drama and then land on you with a confused gaze. like they couldn’t understand why he was friends with someone like you.

“nothing,” you say quickly, finally tearing your eyes away from sungchan and forcing your attention on the assignment in front of you.

jeno, not satisfied with your answer, followed your earlier gaze, a light chuckle slipping past his lips, “aww, does my little bunny wunny have a crush?,” he cooed, reaching over to pinch your cheek, his trademark eye smile on display.

bunny was the nickname he had given you when you both were eight years old. in some twisted doom, like you were always going to be life’s punching bag, all your baby teeth fell out at the same time, leaving only the two front teeth behind. these days, he throws in a ridiculous wunny at the end just to piss you off.

“shut up jeno,” you scowl, swatting his hand away and adjusting your glasses back into place.

he chuckles, unfazed, before pulling out his own assignments and settling in beside you. a comfortable silence draping over the two of you, easy and familiar.

but your mind was still reeling. you wanted, so badly, to be the girl who was kissing sungchan instead of the nerd he only acknowledged when he needed answers for a test. you wanted to hold his hand, to walk around campus with him, to be the one sitting in the back of the library.

you wanted to be the girl that people wanted to be.

your gaze drifts to your best friend. jeno hadn’t always been this effortlessly put-together, with his hair perfectly styled, clothes fitting him properly, and those annoying sculpted arms that somehow always had a girl clinging to them.

you’re reminded of a different version of him – the times when you had matching glasses, his head way too big for his body, the endless rotation of naruto and pokemon t-shirts he always had on and the way he would stutter every time a pretty girl would even look at his direction.

if he could grow into the handsome, confident man he is now, why couldn’t you?

and then, just like that, a lightbulb flickers on.

“...neno,” you call out to him, sweetly.

jeno eyes you with immediate suspicion, you only use that nickname when you want something from him, “what?,” he asks, an eyebrow raised.

“we’re best friends, right?,” you ask, innocently blinking up at him.

“is the sky blue???,” he shoots back, voice dripping with playful sarcasm. you ignore it, too caught up in the plan buzzing in your head.

“so, as my best friend, you’d do anything for me, right?,” you press, excitement coursing through.

he narrows his eyes, “that depends on what you’re about to ask from me,” he says, looking at you with a mixture of suspicion and mild horror.

“make me hot,” you say, dead serious.

jeno chokes on absolutely nothing, eyes going wide as the words hit him, “what?!.” he hisses, half-whisper, half-scream, as if you just confessed to a felony. a few heads turned your way and you can’t help but blush under the sudden attention.

“you’re so dramatic!,” you whisper, shrinking behind your books. all your previous confidence, going down the drain as you finally realized what you just asked him to do.

jeno charmingly waves, muttering his apologies until the curious stares faded and the library’s usual hush returned.

“y/n,” he said, suddenly serious, gaze locked on you, “what do you mean by ‘make you hot’?” his entire focus on you.

you sigh, heat crawling up your neck, “nevermind, jeno, it’s nothing,” you say, grabbing the nearest book, hoping to bury this conversation along with your pride.

before you could turn a page, jeno snatches it away from you, “hey, no secrets between us remember,” he said, gently but firmly.

you stared at the table, lips pressed into a thin line, weighing the embarrassment against the aching truth in your chest, “i just meant…help me be desirable, i’m tired of being a nerd, jeno. i just want someone to look at me and think i’m pretty,” you admit, too embarrassed to look him in the eye.

“i think you’re pretty, bunny,” he says quietly.

you groaned, immediately burying your face in your hands. this was too embarrassing. you felt like you were fishing for compliments.

“ugh, you’re only saying that because you’re my best friend and our dads will literally kill you if you don’t,” you say, voice muffled by the table below you.

jeno chuckles lightly beside you, “i’m not just saying that.”

you sit back up slowly, looking him dead in the eye, “jeno, i’ve never been asked out, never held hands with someone, hell, i’ve never even kissed anyone,” you reason, head plopping back into your chair.

“—that’s not true!, you’ve kissed me,” he points out earning an eye roll from you.

“jeno we were 14 and i kissed you like how i would kiss my mom,” you say, “it doesn’t count,” you shut your eyes, silently begging the universe to erase this entire moment from existence.

but your words lingered in jeno’s head – the quiet desperation in your voice, the way your eyes had pleaded without meaning to and before he could even think twice, his mouth moved on its own.

“i’ll see what i can do,” he said. your eyes flew open, locking onto his with a sparkle that transferred over to his own.

“thank you, neno,” you grinned, ruffling his hair with a smirk, excitement bubbling through you.

he groaned in protest, batting your hands away but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him.

a second later, his phone flashes on his side. one glance at the screen and he was already gathering his things, “gotta go, lia texted,” he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

you nodded, smiling up at him, “have fun, don’t get pregnant,” you teased.

he chuckled, messing your hair up on his way out, “no promises,” he winked, making your face scrunch up in disgust. the image of your best friend having sex was not appealing at all.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

after spending a couple of hours buried in his current situationship’s legs, jeno finally made his way back to the dream house.

the conversation you had in the library constantly playing in his mind as he quickly barges into jaemin’s room, “dude-i oh…sorry!,” his eyes widen, apologizing as he redirects his stare at the ceiling, but doesn’t make an effort to leave.

jaemin scrambles to wrap the blanket around his girlfriend, who is currently face down, ass up with his dick still inside her, “dude!, get out!?,” he yells furiously, throwing a pillow at him.

“i need to ask you something,” jeno says, making jaemin groan, “can you ask me later?, im busy,” he grunts, his girlfriend still clenching tightly around him.

“oh…yeah, sorry…hi angel,” jeno mutters out, a playful smile on his lips before leaving and locking the door behind him, hearing an embarrassed, muffled, “hi jeno,” from jaemin’s girlfriend, on his way out.

“learn to lock the door!,” he laughed from the other side, the sound of skin slapping resuming as he made his way down the living room.

for the past few hours, your words had been playing on a loop in his head. he wasn’t sure where to start or how to go about helping you. not because he didn’t want to but because he’d never realized you needed that kind of help.

sure, he noticed that there were never any boys around, other than him, but he thought you preferred it that way. always scowling in disgust when a guy tries to get near you or even breathe the same air as you.

and besides the fact that he wanted to repay you for always helping him without asking for anything in return, he’d always thought you were pretty.

when you were six, with a scraped knee, and tear streaked cheeks after falling as you chased after his hamster who escaped - pretty.

when you were eight, missing all your teeth except the two in the front, food always ending up smeared all over your face - pretty.

when you were eleven, threatening all his bullies to stay away from him or you would call your dad - pretty.

when you were fourteen and you kissed him because you were curious why your parents were always kissing - so pretty.

when you were fifteen, drowning in a pink puffy dress that ate you up whole - ridiculous, but pretty.

when you were sixteen, at your mom’s funeral, crying on his shoulder, not allowing anyone else near you but him - hauntingly pretty.

when you were eighteen and you both had gotten your acceptance letters for university, excitedly jumping around together - pretty.

when you were twenty and crashed his car because you thought there was a dog on the road, only for it to be the shadow of the tree you crashed into - annoying, but still so damn pretty.

as your best friend, he wants you to see yourself the way he saw you.

if this was what it took to help you finally claim your confidence, then he’d do whatever it takes to make sure it worked. whether or not this was about impressing that boy you liked, he didn’t care. he just wanted to help you feel more sure of yourself.

an hour passed before jaemin finally joined him in the living room, immediately punching him in the arm, “learn to knock,” he huffs out before sitting next to his friend.

jeno chuckles, rubbing his arm, “i didn’t see anything, promise,” he turns to his friend, “you better not have or i’ll literally scoop your eyes out and feed it to you,” his friend grunts making him scrunch up in disgust.

“that’s disgusting,” jeno comments, the mental image making both of them squirm before bursting out into laughter.

“so what did you need?,” jaemin asks as soon as their laughter dies down.

“i actually need your girlfriend’s help,” he smiles sheepishly, piquing the other boy’s curiosity.

“with what?,” jaemin asks.

“with y/n,” jeno says before jaemin nods, getting up to get his girlfriend out of his room and into the living room. the rest of the boys knew who you were, of course, and as jeno had requested, they all looked out for you.

jaemin’s girlfriend listens intently at the plan jeno had - a makeover. he knew he needed a girl’s touch since he didn’t really know anything about the work that girls put into themselves to make them look ‘hot’.

he could argue he thought they just came that way. just like how you have always been pretty.

“well, im kind of done with all of that makeover and stuff,” she briefly smiles at her boyfriend, “but i do know the perfect girl,” shes says smiling, as jeno notes down the girls’ name, paying her a visit.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

two days later, jeno came prepared. plopping down in his usual seat in the library, right next to you, armed with a notepad that was opened to the page:

operation bunny’s glow-up

step 1: the makeover

step 2: closet cleanse and wardrobe upgrade

step 3: posture, confidence and flirting 101

step 4: bunny’s party reveal

you blinked at the notebook in front of you, registering the words written in jeno’s extremely neat handwriting, “what is this?”

“this,” he said, tapping the page, “is how i'm going to help you,” jeno explains.

there were too many steps and you’re suddenly so very aware how ridiculous this actually was, “can we just magically skip to step four where i’m already pretty and perfect and partying?,” you sigh, already feeling exhausted.

jeno almost wants to scold you for thinking you weren’t already pretty and perfect but remembered this is why he was doing this in the first place. to make sure you know you were pretty and perfect.

instead he says, “nope, this is a full process. you asked for my help and that’s what you’re getting, no backing out and definitely no easy way out.”

the sternness in his voice made you realize how serious he was about this. “you’re really gonna do all this for me, neno?,” you ask, a hint of gratitude shining in your eyes.

“of course i am, that’s what best friends are for,” he shrugs, ruffling your hair once again.

which is how you ended up here, seated in a salon chair with the girl you met just a couple minutes ago, your best friend leaving you all by your awkward self with no other than — giselle, third year cosmetology major and one of the school’s hottest girls.

her preppy personality was overwhelming, confidence radiating off her like perfume. you had no idea how to interact with her, no clue how any girl could be so aware of her beauty and completely own it the way she did.

it’s almost unfair how nice she was too. hot, popular girls were supposed to be mean, rude, intolerable. that’s how they’re portrayed in every teen movie you’ve seen. but giselle is kind, easygoing, talked to you like you weren't several social status’ below her in the pyramid you’ve made up.

“alright, so we’re gonna make sure your hair frames for your face perfectly and get rid of all your split ends,” she explains, hands already in motion as she fluffs your hair out, moving it around, parting it here and there to visualize what looks best on you.

once she figured it out, she let out a satisfied hum and got to work. the scissors glide gracefully, almost like they were an extension of her fingers and you can’t help but be mesmerized.

“so, how did you and jeno meet?,” she asks, casually starting the conversation as her hands continue to move through your hair.

“uhm, our parents are best friends,” you mumble, trying not to sound as stiff as you feel.

“ooh, that’s fun!,” she comments and you’re not entirely sure if she means it or if she’s just trying to be polite. either way, you appreciate her effort.

“and you’ve never had a crush on him?,” she adds, eyebrows raised. the shock on your face is evident, the very idea of having a crush on your best friend making your stomach twist.

“uhh no, i’ve never seen him that way,” you reply, a shudder slipping down your spine.

giselle laughs, clearly amused, “i see,” she hums, “your best friend is hot though, you know?,” you smile up at her, nodding, blush creeping up your cheeks.

of course you knew people considered jeno hot but you’re not entirely sure you agree with that statement.

he was the same boy who was crying to you because his hamster escaped, the same boy who got his braces stuck in your sweater, the same boy who ran away when you kissed him, the same boy who almost cried when your acceptance letter came in the mail first, his nowhere to be seen until a week later – your best friend was cute, the same way a puppy was cute.

“soo, who do you think is hot?,” she asks, playful curiosity dancing in her eyes.

is this what girl talk is?

“uhmm,” you shy away under her friendly gaze. you’ve never really had anyone to talk to about boys. with your mom passing away at an early age and all your girlfriends more interested in their anime crushes than real ones, this kind of conversation feels like uncharted territory.

“don’t worry, i'm really good at keeping secrets,” she says, urging you to go on. there’s something about her aura that you trust. and you knew that if jeno didn’t trust her, he wouldn’t have left you alone with her in the first place. so for the first time in your life, you indulge in girl talk.

“i think umm…i think sungchan is hot,” you mutter, shy, eyes immediately darting to the floor.

she gasps, an exaggerated, delighted sound, “i totally agree” she says giggling, “you have great taste,” she giggles. then, leaning in with excitement, she whispers, “i’m gonna make sure sungchan falls in love with you.”

you glance at her reflection in the mirror and despite yourself, a smile appears on your face, giddy and a little disbelieving.

“and…we’re done with your hair!,” she announces, your focus darting at your own reflection. your eyes widen slightly. she made your hair look like what you would see in the magazines – sleek, soft, effortlessly perfect.

the change in your appearance already reflecting back at you.

“this is just the beginning,” she whispers again, a friendly smile displayed on her lips.

she gently reclines the chair you were sitting on then tilts your chin up with practiced fingers, her eyes scanning your face with focused curiosity as she takes your glasses off, “hmm, okay,” she murmurs, turning your face side to side. you can’t help but feel awkward, gaze drifting everywhere else, avoiding eye contact.

“okay…i’m just gonna clean up your brows, and wax a little peach fuzz if that’s okay?,” she asks, voice light and reassuring. you nod, unsure what all that means but trusting her anyway.

giselle gets to work immediately, a new tool in her hand, and wax paper placed on your upper lip and in just twenty minutes, she steps back, satisfied.

your face looks softer…more defined. more you, somehow.

“you’re so pretty, y/n,” she says warmly, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “and we barely did anything.”

the compliment hits you harder than you expect. pretty wasn’t a word you would ever describe yourself yet here is one of the most beautiful girls you’ve ever seen calling you that. tears sting the corner of your eyes before you can blink them away.

“c’mon,” she says, voice still gentle but laced with excitement, “we’re not done, grab your stuff, we're going somewhere.”

after spending exactly thirty-two minutes in giselles car, singing along to the radio and laughing at her endless stream of chaotic stories, which you thought was something you’d never ever do, you were now at the mall. more specifically, standing in front of a waxing salon.

you shoot her a nervous glance, eyes wide with suspicion.

“i figured you’d be more comfortable with a stranger you’d never have to see again,” she says with a casual shrug, and suddenly it clicks why you’re here.

you knew what a waxing salon was, you just never thought you’d voluntarily stepped foot into one.

“this is my go-to, they get everything and it doesn’t hurt that bad,” she promises, reassuring, and you swore you look like a tomato with how much you’re blushing.

when giselle said they get everything, she meant they get everything.

even body parts that you didn’t think would have hair on them, body parts that no one else has seen but your own eyes. you almost can’t believe you were in this position right now, but giselle was right – a stranger was better for this. the only thing keeping you from bolting was the comforting knowledge that you’d never have to make eye contact with the person who was currently in between your legs again.

after an hour and several compromising positions later, you were finally done. your skin felt smoother than a baby’s, which was honestly kind of mind-blowing.

giselle was waiting for you at the reception, a bag in her hand, her eyes lighting up as soon as she saw you, “okay!, so i got you a little starter kit filled with makeup, skincare and all the other essentials,” she said, practically bouncing, “let’s go back to my place and i’ll teach you how to use it!”

her excitement was infectious and you couldn’t help but smile just as wide – her bubbly energy sinking into your bones in the best way.

making your way to giselle’s bedroom, you notice how different your rooms were. while yours was covered with posters and music records from all your favorite bands, her’s was covered in magazine clippings of what you assumed are the most popular fashion trends.

while your shelves were filled with books of all genres, she had an entire shelf dedicated to makeup and skincare products. another filled with several handbags and shoes. you weren’t even aware that girls had to have that many.

“sit, my canvas,” she says, lightly teasing, pointing to the chair in front of her vanity mirror as she pulls things out of the bag she gave you.

“we’re keeping it simple, just the basics: primer, foundation, brows, blush, and lipstick of course.”

you nod like you understood anything she was saying. she caught the panic in your eyes and smiled softer this time, “don’t worry,” she said, uncapping a small bottle of primer, “i got you.”

she talked you through every step. primer, foundation, blending like your life depended on it. she filled in one of your brows and handed you the pencil, urging you to try it out yourself. you tried to mimic her, hand shaky, tongue slightly poking out in concentration. this was definitely harder than she made it out to be.

“you’re a natural,” she says, satisfied with your work and you can feel your confidence growing with every second you spend with her. it’s as if she was sharing the amount of confidence she had with you.

by the end of it, you stared at yourself in the mirror and barely recognized your own reflection. not because the makeup was dramatic, it wasn’t, but because you looked like someone who belonged.

like someone who chose how she wanted to be seen.

“there…you look beautiful,” giselle murmurs behind you, chin resting lightly on your shoulder, “i have one last thing for you,” she says, reaching for another bag and you’re not sure how you could ever repay her for all of this.

as if she could read your thoughts, she quickly says, “don’t worry about it, jeno paid for it”

“glasses can be hot, but the ones you have now, completely hides your face so…,” she pulls out two things, “first, i got you these silver ones, they’re smaller but they’ll sit on your face better,” she hands it to you.

you take them, fingers brushing over the smooth metal. the glasses were cute, not your usual style, but when you slipped them on and looked in the mirror, you instantly understood what she meant. they frame your features instead of swallowing them whole.

giselle pats herself on the back, clearly happy with her decision, “and if you’re feeling a little braver,” she trails off, pulling out the last item, “-contact lenses, i asked jeno for your prescription so those should be good, they’re pretty easy to put on too but just in case, i’ll message you a youtube video with step by step instructions,” she smiles at you, soft and sincere.

and you can’t hold it in anymore. her kind actions pull at your heartstrings as the dam breaks – tears sliding down your cheeks before you can stop them.

“thank you, giselle,” you say in full gratitude, voice thick with emotion.

“of course,” she whispers, her eyes matching yours as she pulls you into a hug.

“-now stop crying, okay, makeup is expensive,” she says, laughing as she wipes at her own damp lashes. you both burst into giggles, the room light again despite the weight in your heart.

and then a knock makes its way to her bedroom door, echoing throughout her room.

giselle quickly fixes your tear stained cheeks, “alright, if you ever need anything else, just let me know okay?,” she says, and you nod, thankful for her kindness.

“let's see what your best friend has to say,” she squeals as she rushes over to the door, swinging it open and revealing jeno on the other side.

you hadn’t even thought about how jeno would react or how other people would take in your new appearance. you suddenly felt extremely nervous. he was the first person who was going to see you like this — you wanted him to react well.

jeno steps into the room, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, expression casual until he sees you and suddenly he feels like every air has been knocked out of his lungs.

you have always been pretty but right now you look absolutely, breathtakingly, beautiful.

he realizes he’s been staring in silence for too long when he notices you shift in your seat, the words, “what?,” slipping from your lips, almost harsh, trying to sound casual.

he blinks a few times, gulping “n-nothing y-you just look–,”

“different?,” you complete his sentence, afraid he will start teasing you. his stare becomes more uncomfortable with every second of silence that passes.

“-r-really p-pretty,” he finally manages to say. a smile takes over your features, his compliment completely blowing away the feelings of doubt that were starting to cloud.

jeno almost wants to beat himself up for stuttering so much.

“ahh, my work here is done,” giselle beams, looking in between you with a knowing look only she knew the meaning of. she clapped like she’s the proud host of a makeover show, as she should. jeno clears his throat, immediately reminded that you both had an audience.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

a soft knock echoed at your dorm room’s door, followed by jeno’s familiar voice. when you opened it, you caught the tiny flicker in his eyes. he was still trying to get used to your new appearance. its been two days since giselle’s successful makeover and he still hasn’t fully adjusted to this version of you.

but it was time to start step two of the operation - closet cleanse and wardrobe upgrade.

“wait,” you say, squinting at him, “you’re the one that’s gonna look at my clothes?,” you say, bewildered.

what did jeno know about ladies’ fashion?

“yeah, who else would it be?,” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“i don't know, i thought you would’ve brought giselle or another one of your lady friends,” you mumbled as he casually made himself at home on your bed.

he grinned, flopping back against your pillows like he owned the place, “nope, just me, don’t worry…i know what looks good,” he says, a playful smile on his lips as you eyed him suspiciously, “and how exactly are you going to rate my clothes?,” you ask.

he shrugs, “i’ll figure it out as we go, now come on, show me what you got,” he says, making himself comfortable in your sheets.

truthfully, his rating was completely unscientific and wildly biased. he was judging your clothes based on the question: if a girl walked by in this outfit, would i say hi?

and he knows damn well that if you ever found out you were being styled based on his imaginary dream girl, you’d kick him right where the sun won't shine. so he kept that little detail to himself.

“ugh, okay,” you groaned, giving in as you started taking your clothes out of your wardrobe and holding them up for him.

jeno leaned back, arms folded behind his head, watching you with an amused glint in his eyes. he was way too comfortable in your space but then again, he always had been.

one by one you pulled clothes from your closet – the shirts you’ve had since middle school, some with funky patterns, others just straight up horrendous. pants with weird patterns and those that didn’t help accentuate your figure at all.

for once, you were thankful for being one of the lucky ones who didn’t have a roommate. no one else needed to witness this humiliation.

jeno, however, was getting the full show. he has never realized how bad your wardrobe was until now. each new item of clothing you pulled out seemed to be worse than the last. and then came the final blow.

the naruto and pokemon shirts. his oversized naruto and pokemon shirts. jeno’s jaw slacks open, like the very memory of those shirts carried his own personal trauma, “why the hell do you have those?!,” he blurted, sitting up like he’d just seen a ghost.

“your dad gave them to me when you outgrew them, i just kept them,” you shrug.

“burn it.” his voice was flat, non-negotiable.

“what?! no!, these are comfortable and i like wearing them to sleep!,” you defend, clutching the shirts like they were priceless heirlooms. jeno stares at you wide eyed, expression teetering somewhere between disgust and betrayal “you cannot let anyone see you in those,” he says, deadly serious, making you chuckle.

“stop being so dramatic, i bet if you wore these now, people would think it’s cool,” you say and jeno shakes his head furiously, like he can't even fathom the idea of ever wearing it again, “no, absolutely not, i’ve buried that version of myself. deep.”

“well, i’m not burning them!,” you declare, shoving the shirts deep into your drawer, making sure he can’t pull it out behind your back.

by the end of it you had two piles. the “i guess that’s okay” pile and the “don’t ever wear that again, that’s going straight to donation,” pile which was unfortunately about three times bigger.

“jeno, i have like no clothes left!,” you say, plopping down on the bed next to him, limbs heavy with defeat.

your room looked like it was run through by a tornado, clothes scattered in every corner.

without a word, jeno pulls you into his arms, fingers brushing your hair out of your face with an ease that only comes from years of friendship, “we’re gonna go shopping,” he murmurs against your temple, “it’s gonna be fine.”

you let yourself melt into his side with a sigh, “okay, but like…in five minutes, i’m too tired to even attempt being a hot girl right now,” he chuckles softly and you feel the sound more than you hear it, sleep tugging you under.

jeno lets his eyes flutter shut too, a small contented smile on his lips.

five minutes, she said. he’d give her ten.

ten minutes turned into three hours and you woke up with your legs tangled with the boy beside you, “neno,” you groaned, shoving him off of you, “you’re so fucking heavy,” you whine.

jeno slowly wakes up, blinking the sleep away as he sluggishly rubbed at his eyes, “fuck, what time is it?,” he says before reaching out for his phone and answering his own question.

it was only 6PM, still plenty of time to run to the mall and get you your new upgraded outfits.

and exactly thirty minutes later, jeno was dragging you around all the stores with the latest fashion trends. you didn’t even know your best friend knew these stores existed, “how do you know so much about this?” you ask him, eyeing him suspiciously.

he shot you a grin over his shoulder, “well, i do listen to every girl i talk to, you know” he points out and you’re reminded of the fact that your sweet, nerdy best friend was also one of the university’s hot, sexy, fuck-boy.

you rolled your eyes, “gross.” you still can’t believe he even has that reputation. wanting to smack yourself every time you get reminded of it. how could your glasses-wearing, braces-clad, cried-over-a-hamster best friend turn into some kind of lady killer? it didn’t feel real.

“hey, it’s called research,” he teased, “gotta keep them interested somehow.”

he grabs a shopping cart, pulling at everything he thought looked nice on the mannequins, as well as a couple of pieces of clothing that fit his previous criteria.

you follow him around like a lost child. you don’t even remember the last time you had a shopping trip and bought something for yourself. you were usually only here to buy gifts or if you’re forced to buy new underwear.

after a while of aimlessly wandering as jeno does all the work, you find yourself in the dressing room, a shopping bag filled with clothes in your arm.

now here you were, staring at your reflection in pure disbelief. the first matching outfit jeno picked out was a tiny pink skirt and an even tinier pink crop top that left your midriff exposed, “uhhm, jeno i dont know about this one,” you say from the other side of the door, nervous.

“step out, let me see,” he says, patiently sitting outside of your dressing room stall, voice relaxed, clearly unbothered.

slowly, hesitantly, your fingers hover over the lock before unlocking the door, debating on whether or not you should let him see you in this ridiculous outfit that is showing way too much skin than you’re used to. before you could completely psych yourself out, you took a deep breath, mentally preparing yourself before finally swinging the door wide open, revealing the outfit to him.

jeno looked up and almost choked on air.

the outfit definitely hugged your curves in all the right places, made your skin glow and your legs look longer, and god, yes, he would definitely go up to you and say hi if he saw you at a party.

but then he thinks about all the other boy’s who would also go up to you and say hi and do god knows what else and the thought almost knocks him out.

“yeah, that doesn’t look comfortable, i don't like it,” he says a half lie. you quickly agree, relieved, as you go back into the dressing room to try on your next outfit.

jeno feels hot.

the air was too thick and he wanted to dunk his head in cold water to remind himself that this was you.

he shakes the thoughts away. these are thoughts he shouldn’t be thinking about, especially with his best friend. but it was no use. because the next time you stepped out of the dressing room you were wearing a white skirt a little longer than the last one and a light blue top that covered what needed to be covered but was just enough to exude that sexiness he liked in a girl and he swore he needed to get into a bathroom. now.

“this one’s a bit better, i could actually wear this,” you comment, innocently looking at him through those silver glasses that makes your eyes pop out, a small smile on display and all he could do was nod, “yeah…t-that one’s nice,” he says, disguising his stutter under a fake cough.

you smiled, pleased with his answer, and he felt his stomach flip.

he was in so much trouble.

this torture went on for a good fifteen more outfits, tiny side comments coming from him while his sanity continues to slip just a little more. his pants feel more restricted every time you walk out dressed in the cutest outfits that looked like they were made for you.

the worst ones were the ones you liked. the ones that made your eyes twinkle in the mirror and made you smile like you were finally starting to see yourself the way he saw you – absolutely beautiful.

there’s a million f words running through his head.

why the fuck did he think this was a good idea? why the fuckity fuck didn’t he just ask giselle to add this to her makeover process? why the fuckity fuck fuck did he throw all those tiny tops and short skirts into your basket? why the flying fuckity fuck fuck fuck shit fuck are you so fucking pretty? and more importantly – what the actual fuck are you, his best friend, doing to him?

after a long three hours of internal screaming – it was finally over.

you emerged from the mall looking like you’d just won a game show, all smiles and sunshine, bubbling with excitement, happy with the outfits your best friend picked out for you while jeno trudged behind you, hauling ten full shopping bags, half amused, half in pain.

he drove in near silence as you yapped on and on about your makeover with giselle, every detail you hadn’t had the chance to spill yet now tumbling out all at once.

in the middle of your yapping session, you noticed the boy wasn’t as active as he usually was, no silly side comments, no teasing remarks.

“neno..,” you sweetly called out to him and jeno nearly swerved.

god, the things that nickname did to him.

“you okay?,” you asked, eyes flicking over to him.

“yeah bunny, just tired,” he said with a small smile, trying to play it cool.

“that was a lot of shopping for a guy, y’know?” he glanced at you quickly, then back to the road, “keep going, tell me more about your day with giselle,” he says.

you eyed him for a second longer, as if trying to read him, then picked up right where you left off.

he dropped you off and made sure you were safely in your room. before he could leave you surprised him by reaching out and pulling him into a hug. with your arm tight around his waist, face pressed against his chest, you let out a soft sigh, “thank you, neno, sorry for taking up so much of your time.”

jeno chuckles, gently smoothing your hair down with one hand, hoping you don’t realize how fast his heart was beating, “you can never take too much of my time, bunny, you know that” he says, reassuring you.

you look up at him, with that sweet, grateful smile that’s currently driving him crazy, “you’re the best best friend in the entire world,” you say, before leaning up and pressing a sweet, innocent kiss to his cheek.

jeno should’ve been used to it.

you’ve been kissing his cheek ever since you were five years old and playing in the mud together. he argues today just wasn’t his day.

maybe it was the outfit? maybe it was the soft curve of your smile? or maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t had sex in so long (two days) it was affecting his logic?

whatever it was, that little peck nearly sent him spiraling.

“go and rest,” you said, pushing him towards your door and out of your dorm room, “thanks for shopping with me,” you ended the night with a lopsided grin before shutting your door as he finally made his way out.

he didn’t go home right away. instead he found himself at lia’s place, hands roaming and mind elsewhere, trying to exorcise whatever the hell was clawing at him from the inside out.

he kissed her like he meant it, touched her like he was desperate – because he was. so, so desperate for release. he fucked the shit out of her, releasing all his sexual urges as he guiltily pictured you in those tight, revealing outfits.

pictured you smiling up at him having absolutely no idea the effect you left behind. pictured your sweet voice calling him that nickname you gave him when you were fourteen before you stole his first kiss.

and when he finally finished, breathless and sweaty, staring up at the ceiling of a room that wasn’t his, next to a girl he barely knew, all could think about was: what the actual fuck is wrong with me?

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

the easy part of this transformation was over — the shopping spree, the haircut, the subtle change of your appearance had all been external.

you could already feel the power your new look gave you. for the first time in your life, you realized that pretty privilege wasn’t just some exaggerated social theory. it was real. you felt it in the smallest gestures.

on your way to the library, retracing steps you’ve taken hundreds of times before, everything felt a little different. the way people intently held the door open for you, even if you were still several steps away. the way they’d immediately made space for you in the elevator. and the way someone had already rushed to help you grab a book from the top shelf – you used to have to drag the ladder with you just to get it before.

however, just because life became a tad bit easier, doesn’t mean you felt comfortable.

what had once been comfort in invisibility was now replaced with the pressure of being seen. you weren’t used to the lingering glances or the compliments or the catcalls — it made your skin crawl, making you want to hide under the table until everyone leaves.

when jeno finally walked into the library, his eyes landed on you immediately. you wore a soft white top with jeans that finally hugged your frame and a light blue cardigan around your shoulders, collarbones out for display. it was one of the outfits you bought last night.

the guilt on his shoulders felt heavier as he was reminded of what he did — what he thought of.

forcefully shaking the thoughts away, he quietly sits right next to you. his gaze drifts to your legs anxiously bouncing under the table. a sign that something was clearly bothering you. gently, he placed a hand on your knee. you flinched slightly, then looked up at him, your expression distant – like you just realized he was there.

“bunny, what’s wrong?,” he asks, voice low and tender, threaded with concern.

“they’re all staring, jeno,” you whispered, almost like you didn’t want the words to exist.

he looks around the room, noticing the way everyone was too deep into their own worlds and while he didn’t see anyone obviously gawking, he knew it didn’t matter. it wasn’t about them. it was about what you were feeling inside.

“no one’s staring, bunny,” he murmured, voice delicate, like handling glass.

he knew better than to dismiss it. he recalls what it was like when he stepped out without the comfort of his thick-rimmed glasses and oversized t-shirts for the first time. remembers the way his heart was pounding in his chest, afraid of the judgments he might receive. he didn’t need to guess what you were feeling. he’s sure you were battling the same internal conflict right now. but just like how he got through it, he knows you will too. he’ll make sure of it.

you shut your eyes, taking a deep breath, “sorry,” you whispered, exhaling like the breath had been stuck in your chest all day, “im just- being paranoid, i’m not used to people noticing me,” you say softly.

“that’s okay,” jeno said, a warm smile blooming on his face as his hand moved to your back, rubbing slow, soothing circles, “that’s our lesson for today.”

jeno gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he set his bag down beside you, “okay bunny, first thing’s first is it’s all about your mindset,” he taps his head, pointing to his brain and you can’t help but giggle at the silly antics.

“im serious,” he insisted, lips twitching into a smirk, “if someone stares, don't spiral and think ‘they’re judging me.’ instead think ‘i look good, that’s why they’re staring,’” he says.

your eyes pop out of your head, he says it like it was so easy, “doesn’t that sound a little too egotistical?,” you said, nose wrinkling.

“not egotistical, just confident,” he counters, “there’s a difference.”

you gave him a skeptical look but he was already sitting up straighter, leaving no room for arguments.

“next is posture, stop hiding behind your books and sit straight, shoulders back, chin up,” he demonstrates.

you copied his posture, finding his seriousness amusing as you rolled your shoulders back, “like this?,”

“yeah,” he nodded, approving, “you already look more confident”

you laughed quietly, already feeling silly, “i feel like i’m pretending to be someone i’m not,” you point out.

“well, confidence is pretending, at first anyway,” he replied, shrugging, “eventually you start owning up to it, it starts becoming comfortable.”

you studied your best friend for a minute or two. there was a time where he would hide behind his books as well, would even hide behind you. you realized now that his change didn’t just come out of nowhere – it wasn’t just a random growth spurt. it was something he’d worked on, something that took time and practice, just like you were doing now. you wondered how he ever managed to do this alone.

“and the most important thing to know, bunny,” he adds, voice gentler now, “you’re allowed to take up space, don’t ever apologize for being seen.”

you carried his words with you, tucking them somewhere deep, somewhere that had always longed to hear them.

you sat there in silence for a beat until jeno shifted beside you, nudging your arm lightly, “okay,” he said, eyes glinting with a mischievous spark, “time for your first assignment.”

you turned to him, instantly suspicious, “assignment?,”

he nodded, already scanning the room, “see that guy by the window,” he points to possibly the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen reading a worn copy of the hunger games: catching fire. you recognize him. you’re pretty sure he was in your elective art class.

“you’re going to flirt with him,” jeno smirks and your eyes almost bulge out of your head.

“you’re joking! that’s hyunjin,” you whisper, head whipping toward jeno.

“so?,”

“so, he’s…he’s too cool and i don't even know how to flirt!,” you whisper-shouted, hands flailing helplessly at your sides.

he chuckles, “you were the same girl who threatened to beat up my bullies when we were 11, you’re telling me you’re afraid of a boy now?,” his smile is playful, lightly provoking you. and when you don’t reply, he knew you knew that he was right, “just compliment him, smile, say he has nice hands or something.”

your mouth fell open, staring at him in horror, “that’s so dumb, jeno. what if he thinks i'm hitting on him?”

“...you are hitting on him,” he said slowly, like it was obvious.

you groaned, dragging your hands over your face, “i’m not comfortable with this.”

“that’s the point. confidence doesn’t grow in comfort zones,” jeno says and you wonder when he’s gotten so wise. usually you were the one who had these motivational words ready for him.

staring down at your lap, nerves buzzing like static in your fingertips, you take a moment to think it through. you glanced back at your best friend, he was already looking at you proudly – like he believed in you more than you believe in yourself.

you let out a breathy laugh, the absurdity the situation weighing on your chest, “if this ends in disaster–,”

“it wont,” he cuts you off and you knew there was no way to back out of this situation. besides you were the one who asked him to help you. slowly, you got up from your chair, taking a deep breath and making your way towards the boy.

“hi, hyunjin,” you start off quiet, timid, slightly afraid.

hyunjin darts his eyes away from his book, looking up at you, “hey” he replies. when you don’t say anything else right away, he shifted in his seat, “did you need anything?,” he says, an awkward smile on his lips.

you swallowed hard, nerves tangling in your throat, “i uhm…just wanted to tell you—you have nice hands!,” you say, a little too cheerful for your liking. you were internally screaming. curse jeno for putting that in your head. you actually can’t believe you used it.

he blinked. then a soft laugh escaped him, not mocking, but surprised, amused. “oh? uhm, thanks?,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes, “i like what you’ve done with your hair,” he compliments, leaving you shocked.

“what?”

he points vaguely in your direction, “you got a haircut, right? it look’s nice.”

you blinked, stunned into silence for a second too long. “thank you,” you finally breathed, cheeks warming instantly.

you didn’t realize he noticed you before. let alone remember you enough to notice a change.

“you’re welcome,” he smiles and you awkwardly wave goodbye.

you made your back to jeno, so certain that you looked like a tomato. dropping into the seat beside him, burying your face in your hands, “that was so embarrassing,” you mumbled through your fingers.

jeno tried to hide his laughter behind his fingers, afraid to be called out by the librarian for being too loud, “you actually told him he had nice hands,” he wheezed.

“shut up!,” you groaned, “that was your fault!,” you swat at his arm, “my brain just – stopped working.”

jeno calms himself down, sitting up straighter now, the teasing falling away just a little, “yeah, but you did it…and he talked to you, noticed your hair, said he liked it.”

the memory of hyunjin’s compliment flickers in the back of your mind and a small swell of pride flutters in your chest, “he did, didn’t he…,” a shy smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

jeno nods, eyes full of tenderness, “see? you’ve never been invisible,” he points out.

the words settle over you like a warm blanket and for a moment you just sit with them, the weight of the realization sinking in.

“i still felt like i was going to pass out though,” you admitted, a thin, embarrassed smile on display.

“that’s okay, confidence is scary,“ jeno said simply, “but the more you practice, the easier it’ll be,” he sends you a warm smile, never making you feel like these feelings were wrong.

without thinking, you leaned into his shoulder, seeking the steady comfort he always gave you, “thanks, neno,” you breathe out.

he freezes for a second, just for a second, before bumping his head lightly against yours, “anytime.”

then he pulls back just enough to grin mischievously, “now, go back to hyunjin and say something a little less awkward.”

“wait? right now?!,” you whip your head toward him, horrified once again.

“yes, right now…go,” he’s already pushing you up and out of your seat, laughing under his breath as he watches you stumble forward, nerves buzzing anew.

trying to ignore the way your heart pounds against your ribs, you walk back up to hyunjin, this time with a bit more confidence, capturing his attention once more.

“actually i…i wanted to say that’s a really good book,” you nod toward the hunger games book in his hand and hyunjin lights up instantly.

“right?, i’m on my third re-read,” he says excitedly.

with a casual gesture, he pulls out the chair next to him inviting you to sit as you talked about the masterpiece that is suzanne collins and the hunger games trilogy. the conversation went on for a good twenty minutes, it was easy and light and fun, a little playful sometimes. you lose yourself in the exchange, forgetting the nerves that once clawed at your chest.

when hyunjin bid his goodbye, you practically floated back to your seat. your heart was pounding in your ears but in the best way possible. you can’t believe that just happened. you usually only talk to people in class, if you’re required to.

jeno watched you. watched that twinkle in your eye appear, your smile beaming as the conversation continues and it’s the first time throughout this whole process that he sees the change.

you were slowly bringing back the girl he knew. the girl you lost along the way. the girl he always knew was still there, just waiting for a reason to shine.

when you returned to him, he can’t help but tease you just a little bit, “look who’s suddenly ms. social butterfly,” he grins, earning an eye roll from you as you tried to wipe the giddy smile off your face, “shut up”

“no seriously,” he says, leaning forward now, resting his elbows on the table, “twenty full minutes, i was about to send a search party,” he smirks.

“always so dramatic,” you huff but your smile betrays you, “i didn’t think it’d actually go that well,” you admit, cheeks still pink.

“you flirted, you sat down, talked about hunger games lore like it was natural…if i didn't know you, i’d think you do this every day,” he smirks.

you narrow your eyes, “are you mocking me or hyping me up?,” you say playfully.

“why not both?,” he shrugs, clearly enjoying himself. his tone softens just enough to say, “but seriously bunny, im proud of you,” and you smile at him like he just handed you the stars in the sky.

“thanks…i feel kinda…good.”

“confidence will do that to you,” jeno says, nudging your foot under the table.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

the next few days turn into a full crash course in flirting 101 with lee jeno.

one afternoon, he dares you to make eye contact with the cute guy handing out flyers in campus, not just a glance, real eye contact. it sounds simple but it makes your palms sweat. you were able to managed a flirty smile too and when the boy stammers mid-sentence, jeno practically fist-pumps the air behind you.

another day, he made you strike up a casual conversation with the barista at the cafe. told you to be a little playful, a little flirty. you passed with flying colors, only stumbling over a few words, the barista writing his number on your cup as well as giving you an extra cookie “on the house.” you nearly skip back to jeno, face lit up like christmas morning.

each small win builds on the last, stacking slowly, steadily until the idea of putting yourself out there and owning up to your confidence doesn’t seem so scary anymore.

through it all, jeno watches with the same steady pride adoring the fact that you were learning how to take up space and shine again.

but then comes the moment that even he isn’t prepared for.

it’s a warm afternoon, golden light slanting through the library windows, when jeno leans over the table, a mischievous glint in his eye, “alright, new assignment.”

you smirk at him, accepting his challenge, “what now?”

he tips his chin toward the entrance where sungchan – tall, charming, the boy you’ve had a quite, hopeless crush on for years – walks in, balancing a coffee and his bag slung casually over one shoulder.

the air is knocked out of your lungs and you suddenly feel dizzy, hoping jeno doesn’t follow through whatever he had in mind.

“sungchan,” jeno says, making your heart skip a bit. he grins, already knowing the effect he has on you, “go invite him to the dream frat party this weekend.”

you stare at him like he’s grown two heads, “are you insane?!, that’s sungchan!”

“which makes this the perfect challenge,” he teases.

you open your mouth to protest but jeno cuts you off with a nudge on your arm, “c’mon show me you’ve learned something,” he mocks playfully.

you groan dramatically but your feet somehow move anyway, heart pounding so loudly you’re sure jeno can hear it from where he’s sitting. you were determined to show jeno (and yourself) that you have completely embraced the confidence.

you gather every shred of courage you have and cross the room toward the boy who inspired this whole glow-up.

sungchan looks up just as you approach, his smile lighting up the whole room. you send him a smile – a little flirty, a little too sweet.

“hey,” sungchan says, voice warm, “you’re in my psych class, right? you always ace every test”

you blink, a little thrown by the fact the he paid attention to you, “oh yeah, that’s me,” you say with a soft, bashful laugh, earning a chuckle from the boy in front of you.

he leans against the shelves a little, eyes raking over you in a way that makes your stomach twist. it’s not the uncomfortable kind of stare you’ve been learning to dodge lately. it’s something softer, curious, warm. like he’s seeing you for the first time.

“you look different today,” he says, tilting his head, studying you, “—in a good way.”

you feel the heat rush to your cheeks but you force yourself to stay steady, remembering everything jeno has taught you.

“thanks,” you manage, giving him a more playful, more bold smile, “maybe you just weren’t paying enough attention before.”

this surprises him, eyebrows shooting up before a slow, impressed grin stretches across his face.

“maybe i wasn’t,” he admits, the easy charm in his voice sending your heart into a full sprint.

for a second, neither of you moves. the space between you humming with quiet tension – intoxicating and terrifying all at once.

you clear your throat lightly, breaking the spell, “come to the dream frat party this weekend,” you say it like it wasn’t an invitation. wasn’t a question. didn’t give him any room to deny.

sungchan’s grin turns teasing, a spark lighting in his eyes, “am i coming as your date or…?,” he leans toward you, trailing off, leaving the question open, playful.

you bite back a laugh, finding just enough courage to meet his gaze head on, “i guess you’ll have to come to find out.”

he stares at you for a heartbeat longer. you’ve definitely piqued his curiosity. and then he laughs, easy and alluring, “okay beautiful, you’ve convinced me. i’ll be there,” he whispers for only you to hear before sending you a wink and walking away.

back at the table, jeno watches. something inside him shifts. it’s subtle, a small, tight pull low in his chest but it settles in bitterly.

he pushes it away, refusing to acknowledge it because this wasn’t supposed to matter. he wasn’t supposed to care about anything but seeing you happy.

you make your way back to him, beaming, “he said yes!,” you practically squeal, dropping into your chair like your knees might give out at any second.

jeno chuckles, reaching out to ruffle your hair, a familiar, easy gesture that suddenly feels heavier than it should.

“of course he did, you’re impossible to say no to,” he tries to tease, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes and you’re too giddy to notice any of it. you bat his hand away, cheeks flushed and full of life.

jeno is forced to swallow past the uncomfortable lump rising in his throat.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

tonight is the dream fraternity’s party.

the night where you finally put everything you’ve learned, everything you’ve worked for, to the test. this was it. the final step in your glow up and you felt that electric sense of anticipation crackling just beneath your skin.

you were done waiting. done watching from the sidelines.

you were ready to let loose, to fully step into this new version of yourself.

you stepped into the house, the air thick with excitement. a tight white dress clings to your body, a bold choice you would have second-guessed before. you ditched your glasses for the night, switching it with the contact lenses giselle gave you — embracing the braveness.

this time, when you notice the stares, the double takes, the whispered comments, you don’t shrink back. you don’t flinch. you let them wash over you, feeding the fire inside you.

all those lessons with jeno clearly worked. that change in mindset was all you needed. the attention makes you glow. makes you feel powerful.

looking around the room, you searched for your best friend before finally spotting him in the corner at the back, near the kitchen.

you send him a tiny wave, he sends one back, excitement bubbling through you but before you could make your way towards him, a hand on your arm stops you.

“y/n! you look so pretty oh my god!,” giselle screeches over the loud music, a smile beaming on her face as she pulls you in for a tight hug. she was clearly already intoxicated, her balance a little wobbly but her energy still infectious.

“c’mon,” she says, already dragging you around the room with her, “you have to meet my friends!”

you happily followed her around, giggles escaping your lips, nervousness falling away with every step.

before you know it you were three shots in, dancing with the girls – giselle, somi, and angel, who you already knew before as jaemin’s girlfriend.

the music was loud, your laughters were louder.

and for the first time, you aren’t overthinking a single thing.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

when jeno saw you walk into the front door, it was like time had slowed down, like a thousand cherry blossom petals had burst into the air around you, everyone else blurring into a side character of your story.

you have always been pretty. always been beautiful. but tonight, you were absolutely radiant.

and it wasn’t even the dress, though he can’t deny how much he loved the way white clung to you, soft and luminous.

it was the way you walked around the room with your head held high. the way you glowed with every step, not shying away under anyone’s gaze. the way your smile beamed.

you weren’t hiding anymore.

you have finally stepped into your own skin, finally brought back the girl he knew.

in that moment, it wasn’t just the girl standing in front of him that he saw. it was every version of you that was always beautiful – the girl that was the first one out of the house, chasing after his hamster. the girl that didn’t care if she only had two teeth left, she would still eat what she wanted. the girl who was fighting bullies three times her size just to protect him. the girl who was brave enough to kiss him first. the girl who learned to pick up the pieces.

when you waved at him, he felt like he was on cloud nine. it felt like he had stepped into his shoes all those years ago – a boy hopelessly in awe of the only person he ever wanted to see him.

and when you started walking towards him, it was like his lungs could no longer function. you stole every breath he had.

but before you could give it back to him, giselle pulls you away, spinning you into the chaos of the party, leaving jeno standing there, fighting the urge to follow.

“was that, y/n?,” jaemin says, popping out from nowhere, almost giving him a heart attack as he clutches his chest.

he punches the boy in his arm before confirming that it was in fact, you. jaemin looks at him with a knowing glance. he recognizes the familiar twinkle in jeno’s eye.

“wow,” jisung comments from his other side, making him pause.

when did all his friends show up?

“she looks really hot,” jisung adds, eyes following your figure across the room.

a devilish grin appeared on jeno’s lips and in one quick motion, he had jisung under his arm, ruffling his hair, “no, no, no…not the hair hyunggg!,” he struggled from the older boy’s grip before jeno finally released him.

“point taken, won’t say anything about her ever again,” jisung pouts, fixing his hair back into place.

“i don’t know what you mean,” jeno smiles playfully, “i just wanted to play with you.”

chenle chuckles from nearby, “oh definitely, it’s totally not because you’re possessive and way too protective of y/n,” he points out.

“i am not possessive,” jeno argues, his voice defensive, “protective, sure, but she’s my best friend guys, our parents will kill me if something bad happens to her,” he says.

“she’s also a grown woman,” renjun points out, “you can’t keep pushing away every guy who thinks she’s hot, you know?”

“im not pushing away every guy!…just you guys,” jeno protests. he would never let any of his friends touch you, knowing what he knows.

there’s a pause as the group stares at him, “mhm, cause her really tall, really muscular, really intimidating, doesn’t smile at anyone, guy best friend being by her side almost all the time isn’t pushing away any boys,” haechan adds, teasing.

“it’s not my fault those boys don’t have the balls to ask her out,” jeno mutters, looking at mark for some support, hoping that he’d somehow take his side and tell the others that they were being ridiculous.

mark shrugs in a don’t look at me kind of way and jeno can’t help but groan in defeat.

“well, that boy definitely has the balls,” jaemin nods towards the dance floor as jeno follows his line of vision, his eyes immediately on your figure once again.

you're still with the girls but this time, sungchan and a few other guys from the riize fraternity have surrounded you, laughing and chatting with you.

“shouldn’t you get your girlfriend, jaemin?,” mark asks casually, “i know that wonbin guy has a thing for her,”

jaemin just laughs, completely unbothered, “nah, he doesn't stand a chance,” he says, sipping from his drink as the boy’s laugh.

but jeno knew that sungchan definitely had a chance with you. nothing is funny.

sungchan leans in close, whispers something in your ear and you were laughing. the laugh he thought was only reserved for him. he feels his fists clench up on his sides.

“you gonna push him away, jeno?,” haechan teases by his ear, a smirk playing on his lips, earning him a punch right on the stomach.

“shut up,” he says, haechan clutching over, his laughter mixing with his pain. he totally deserved that.

“c‘mon jisung, let’s find your girl for the night,” haechan manages to say in between choked breaths, before he dragged jisung and mark out of the room, resuming their fuckboy101 classes.

jeno watches as sungchan and you continue to talk, his gaze never wavering from the two of you. every inch of him wants to march over there and pull you away but he doesn’t. instead, he stays rooted in place, his eyes burning holes in the back of your head, feeling his pulse quicken in ways he can’t explain.

lia, his current situationship, walks up to him.

“okayy, that’s our cue,” chenle whispers before all the boys dispersed leaving jeno alone.

he doesn’t even greet her, doesn’t make an effort to say hi, eyes still glued on your figure.

“hi handsome,” lia drags her hands up his shoulders, settling on the back of his neck, her lips finding the side of his jaw.

it all happened so quickly.

one second you were still with the girls, the next sungchan dragged you to the side, his lips on yours. jeno’s jaw clenches. his heart dropping.

he needed to stop looking. he needed a distraction.

he finally acknowledges the girl clung to his neck. she reeks of alcohol and vape smoke. jeno turns to kiss her anyway.

he let’s lia drag him up the stairs, taking one last look at you. he let’s her lead him into his bedroom. let’s her strip off his clothes.

he knew you were going to be okay, knew you could handle your alcohol after many beer nights with him and he definitely knew that you were too smart to get yourself into any real trouble.

he can’t ruin this night for you.

“fuck me like you did last time,” lia whispers in his ear, trailing kisses down his neck, “fuck me like you mean it,” her hand travels down, wrapping around his already hard cock and jeno did.

he fucked her like she was all he needed. abused her hole, used her to release all his sexual tension, trying to push away the image of you from his mind.

but he found that every time you appeared, the better it felt and soon he was clenching, body shaking, his orgasm taking over as he came…with your name spilling from his lips.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

bunny: come over please it’s an emergency.

jeno was banging on your door in under eight minutes of that text. which was absolutely ridiculous considering the fraternity house was a twenty minute walk away from your building. a million thoughts were racing in his head.

what happened after he left you at the party that constitutes this emergency text? were you hurt?

you swung the door open, perfectly intact. no tears, no bruises, just you – in shorts and one of his your oversized naruto t-shirt, blinking at him like he was the one being ridiculous.

side note: it’s insane how you manage to make that shirt look sexy.

he exhaled hard, one hand bracing on the doorframe as he caught his breath.

“did you run here?,” you ask, stunned, noticing the sweat dripping down the side of his face.

“you said it was an emergency,” he shot back, chest still heaving.

you offered a sheepish smile, “sorry, come in,” before walking into your room. jeno followed, shutting the door with a soft click.

“what happened?” he asked, eyes scanning you again, just to be sure, as he sat on the edge of your bed watching you pace back and forth.

“sungchan kissed me,” you tell him.

he blinked, processing, he knew that. he saw you. the reminder leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. he pushes it away, playing the best friend card once more.

“that’s good? right?,” he says cautiously, cursing the fact that he was your best friend right now and had to listen to you talk about another guy, “that’s what you wanted?”

“yeah but,” you swallowed, embarrassment already creeping up your neck, “but i didn’t know what to do!”

“what do you mean?,” he asks dumbfounded, “you just…kiss him back.”

“it’s not that simple, you weren’t there – i panicked! i-i froze! i was too into my head and then i just – i ran,” you ramble, cringing as you relived what happened last night.

a snort escapes jeno before he could stop it.

you narrowed your eyes, “don’t laugh!, it was so humiliating, i can’t believe i ran away like a literal child!,” you groan in your hands.

he tried to control his expression but the corner of his mouths betrayed him, eyes twinkling with amusement, “y/n, it’s not a big deal, you were nervous,” he reassures, “just tell him you were drunk and then try again, it's not the end of the world,” he says it so easily – like you didn’t just go through the worst moment of your life. and that’s saying a lot considering you had a dead mom.

“that’s the problem, i don’t know what i'm doing, i always thought when it happened i’d just know but i didn’t,” you whine in frustration, pulling at your hair.

he must be crazy to think you’d get a different result if you went up to sungchan now and kissed him. you’re almost sure the same thing would happen.

“you’ll be fine next time, you’ll be prepared for it,” he says. the thought of there being a next time makes you panic.

“will i?,” you cut in, “what if i freeze again?,”

“you won’t”

“you don’t know that.”

he opened his mouth to argue, but you beat him to it.

“can you teach me?,” you said, voice quiet.

jeno stills, looking at you with wide eyes like he almost couldn’t believe what you just said – “what?”

“teach me,” you sat next to him, eyes locked on his, “add a step five, teach me how to kiss, teach me how to–” you couldn’t bring yourself to say the other things, the dirtier things you wanted to learn, “–how to do other things,” you mumble.

his jaw tensed. he can’t believe what it is you’re truly asking from him. teaching you how to kiss was already absurd but teaching you how to kiss for another man? it makes him want to throw up.

“bunny –no. i don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“why not?,” your head turns like a genuinely curious puppy.

“because best friends don’t–,” he faltered, “we don’t cross that line.”

“but it’s not like that,” you looked up at him, voice softening, “it’s just…practice.”

he didn’t move. didn’t blink. he can’t fathom the fact that he was actually starting to entertain the idea.

“it’s for educational purposes…just another step in the glow up,” you added, looking at him with those innocent eyes that makes him want to give you the moon, if you asked for it.

his throat worked as he swallowed, holding on to the last bit of restraint he had, “we can’t,” but it came out too quiet, too unsure, his resolve breaking with every second.

“neno,” you whispered, eyes locked on his. it’s not fair and you know it but you’ve already convinced yourself that this is necessary. that you needed to be taught.

“please…you’re the only one i feel comfortable with, just so i could learn, so i could know what to do when these things happen and i don’t make a fool of myself again,” you say, your tone low, almost pleading.

jeno’s breath hitches in his throat. he must be crazy or maybe you truly have him wrapped around your finger because now his eyes are flickering down to your lips and he can’t look away.

he realizes just how close you actually were and just like that, everything else blurs.

he leans in slowly, cautiously, searching your eyes for any flicker of hesitation.

you remain still, you don’t move, you don’t pull away. just watching him, a mixture of quiet excitement, nerves and something warmer, something softer, spreading through you like wildfire.

“just for practice,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against yours.

“just for practice,” you breathe back.

and that was all he needed to finally close the final inch – kissing you slowly, carefully.

it hits him instantly. fireworks. the same ones he felt when he was fourteen. the same one burned at the back of his memory. all this time he thought it was just because it was his first kiss, that feeling never once coming again. but here it is. bright, real and alive in his chest.

and this time he sees it for what it is – it’s you.

he feels you stiffen up and he pulls away softly, “don’t think about it too much, just follow my lead, okay, bunny?,” the once innocent nickname leaves you feeling hot, your heart pounding in your chest as you nod.

his hand makes his way to your cheek, warm and gentle, brushing the soft skin just beneath your ear, the small smile on his lips bringing you a sense of comfort as you as he pulls you back in. lips melting in his. you gave in, shutting the rest of the world out and only focusing on the boy in front of you.

jeno tilts his head, deepening the kiss as you follow his every move. his tongue licks your bottom lip, begging for entrance as yours part on instinct. body reacting before your mind could even process what was happening.

you kiss him back – not perfectly, not practiced but with all the pent-up wonder and want you’ve never let yourself say out loud. it was so natural with jeno. like you were always meant to be kissing him.

you can taste the faint mint of the altoids he always had, feel the heat radiating off his skin.

the makeout session grows heavier and heavier as you continue to keep up with him, learning to breathe through your nose.

you shift slightly and your knees brush, thighs pressing together and suddenly you’re aware of how close you have gotten. the lack of space between your bodies is dizzying. your fingers curl into the front of his shirt, wanting him even closer.

as if he could read your mind, jeno moves his hand from your neck to your waist, fingers splaying wide, grounding you and then in one swift motion, like you had absolutely no weight, he pulls you into his lap.

you gasp softly into the kiss and he swallows the sound, “sorry,” he murmurs against your lips, not pulling back. he was completely lost in you. in this feeling that only you could give him. he swears he could kiss you for hours and it still wouldn’t be enough.

“don’t be,” you shake your head, straddling him now. your hands find his shoulders, wrapping around his frame and threading through his hair. he kisses you harder now, less careful, lips moving in a messy rhythm, teeth clashing.

almost like it had a mind of it’s own, your hips instinctively grind down on his clothed bulge. the action sending jeno into a frenzy, a strangled groan transferring from his mouth to yours, his hold on your waist tightening.

the sound was so addicting, so intoxicating and it wraps around your head like a sweet drug.

you do it again, not entirely sure what you want to achieve but it felt good. it feels like a million butterflies flying in your stomach. there’s a growing tension in your belly that you can’t pinpoint. the feeling is new, exciting, hot.

jeno was right there with you, every boundary, every line he tried to draw was completely vanishing.

his lips trail down to your jaw, then lower, to the edge of your throat and you tilt your head back with a soft breath. your heart’s pounding. his is too. you can feel it, fast and erratic against your chest.

“y/n,” he grunts your name, like a warning – hoping you would stop him because he no longer couldn’t.

“what were the other things?,” he asks you, eyes completely blown out as he looks at you with a kind of hunger. and when all you do is grind against him once more, leaning into his touch, he’s decided he wants to see you on your knees.

“lesson number two, you’re going to suck my cock,” he whispers in your ear. the vulgar words make you feel hot, your body clenching, “do you want to learn that, bunny?,” he says, voice raspier, teasing, waiting for your go signal.

you nervously look up at him, all you could do was nod, an innocent glow in your eyes and jeno swears he could bust right there.

he reaches for one of your pillows, placing it on the floor beside your bed, “get on your knees,” he gently commands. you’re quick to follow, almost like you were in a trance. jeno tugs his sweats down to his ankles, his bulge prominent in his boxers and you can’t help but stare.

“go ahead, bunny, touch it,” he says. you almost can’t believe this is the same boy who was hiding behind your back, crying, every time the older kids would tease him.

this situation was absolutely ridiculous but that doesn’t stop your hand from wandering. following the outline of his cock as you palm him through his boxers. jeno lets out a hiss, the friction already fucking with his head.

“you can take it out,” he says, almost pleading. carefully you push his boxers off, his cock springing free, slapping against his thigh. you can’t help but gulp at his size, “i-its so big,” you say, making him laugh.

“thank you,” he says with a smirk on his lips and you playfully roll your eyes.

“what do i do?,” you look up at him, waiting for the answer. his eyes darken, that simple question snapping something inside of him. you were so innocent. so pure. and he was about to corrupt you.

he gently grabs your hand, redirecting it to your mouth, “spit,” he orders and like an obedient student, you follow, spitting in your hand.

“you can do anything, you can squeeze it,” he says, making you wrap your hand around his cock. your hand looks so tiny around his member and jeno almost just wants to skip this lesson entirely and fuck your hand dumb but he contains himself.

large hands envelop yours as he guides you on what to do, squeezing just the right amount.

“you can pump it up and down,” he says, guiding your hand to slide up and down his throbbing cock. he releases a sigh of pleasure, the warmth of your hand already making him weak.

“you can twist,” he says, twisting your hand around his cock, “you can put your mouth on it…lick it, swallow it, just keep the teeth away,” he smirks and you take a mental note of everything.

jeno releases your hand, giving you the space to experiment on his body. you’re excited, nervous but excited. you wanted to be good at this.

slowly, you continue his previous ministrations, pumping his cock up and down, squeezing and twisting your hand, just like how he showed you. jeno can’t help but let out a shaky breath, and you’re worried “does it hurt?,” you ask.

“no, bunny–feel’s really good, j-just go faster, please,” he begs.

it was sweet torture – how slow you were going, how much you were edging him on and you weren’t even aware of it. you pick up the speed, giving into his request and jeno grunts, his elbows coming in contact with your bed.

his cock looked so pretty, red and swelling, leaking.

your mouth exploringly wraps around his red tip and jeno curses under his breath, “fuuuck, oh my god.”

your confidence grows, feeling your pussy twitch at the sight of him. clenching your thighs, wanting some sort of relief. the sinful sounds he was making goes directly to your senses — the same sound you heard earlier but clearer now, more desperate, more whiny, and it knocks the breath out of you.

your hand continues to pump him, as you start sucking. you wouldn’t describe the taste of his cock to be good or sweet or like candy but it was addicting — it makes you want more. especially when every swipe of your tongue was accompanied by a breathy groan from him. it fuels you.

you take more and more of his length in until you could no longer fit him in your mouth and slowly you start bobbing up and down. his grunts and groans becoming more frequent.

jeno can’t do it anymore. this teasing was killing him. and the worst part is that you don’t even know how much you were affecting him.

his hand finds it’s way to your hair, gripping lightly, controlling the pace, increasing the speed, until you were choking, gagging, tears brimming in your eyes, “s-sorry bunny, it just f-feels so good,” he growls, thrusting his cock down your throat.

it was too much. he was too big. but you don’t care. you shut your eyes tightly, fighting the urge to gag as he continued to hit the deepest part of your throat.

this image of you on your knees, spit drooling all over your chin, tears in the corner of your eyes as you take what he gives you is absolutely heavenly.

jeno feels the coil about to snap, his breaths coming in heavy pants, thrusts getting messier and messier.

“o-open your eyes, bunny,” he orders. he wants you to see it. wants you to see him unravel. wants you to know how good you’ve been for him.

“p-play with my balls,” he instructs. your hands immediately follows through, squeezing him just where he needed it. heat travels all throughout his veins as he pulls you off, not wanting to force you to swallow his cum.

and then he falls apart – hard.

jaw going slack, eyes rolling back as his body fell into your pillows, abs clenching, cock pulsating. his cum shoots out of his tip, messily squirting everywhere, orgasm completely washing over him.

you watch him fall apart and you’re absolutely mesmerized. he looked so beautiful. so fucked out. and there’s that knot building in your stomach that you still can’t quite place.

you lick him clean, swallowing every drop that has landed on his stomach, his thighs, everywhere.

jeno’s eyes shot open as he tried to slow his breathing, slowly sitting back up, watching you clean him up like he was your last meal.

“how does it taste?,” he smirks and you look up at him through your damp lashes, “not very good,” you smile, earning a laugh from both of you. he guides you back up, as you stand in between his legs.

he lifts the naruto shirt off your body, leaving you in your light blue bra, flower patterns detailing it, “cute,” he playfully smirks and you suddenly feel embarrassed, arms protectively going across your chest.

“nu-uh don’t shy on me now, this was your idea, remember,” he says, before pushing your hands away and placing a soft kiss on the flesh on top of your breasts, looking up at you. your breath catches in your throat. that knot in your belly growing and growing making you push your legs together.

jeno notices.

“you did such a good job,” he compliments you, licking and sucking the skin of your breasts as he continues to look at you. your hands find comfort in his shoulders, stabilizing yourself.

“i did?,” you ask, “mhm, you’re such a good girl…made me feel so good,” he groans in between your breasts before traveling lower, placing a soft kiss on your stomach. his dirty talk has your mind reeling, feeling weak in the knees.

“-and good girls, must be rewarded,” he says, his fingers making their way to the hem of your shorts, squeezing the fabric between his fingers.

“how do you like being touched?,” he asks, softly, waiting, looking up at you.

“what?,” you ask, blush creeping up your cheeks.

“when you touch yourself, how do you like it?,” he asks, littering your stomach with soft kisses, his tongue lightly grazing on your skin.

“i-,” you stutter, “i-i dont,” you say, embarrassed of your lack of experience.

“what?” it was his turn to be surprised, gently sitting you on his thigh, like you just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

sure he knew you were a virgin and had zero experience with men but you had to have touched yourself before? there had to be some part of you that gave in to the desires of the night and experimented?

you groan, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, “i-i’ve tried but nothing ever happens and i just feel silly with my hand down my pants,” you reason out and that very image alone makes his cock twitch again.

you were going to kill him.

“so you’ve never fingered yourself? never had an orgasm?,” he asks, completely shocked.

“i don’t even know how i’m supposed to do that,” you shrug.

“ok,” jeno says, taking it all in.

he thinks for a minute or two before he finally comes to a conclusion.

you stole his first kiss, it was only fair he stole your first orgasm. right?

“lesson number three, i’m teaching you how pleasure is supposed to feel like.”

his strong arms lift you up, making you squeal at the sudden action before he turns around, gently laying you on your bed.

jeno gets rid of his shirt, throwing his remaining piece of clothing over his head and holy fuck…your best friend is hot. his abs are on clear display, his semi-hard cock hung to the side, and you feel very hot as his gaze focuses back on you.

“when did you get those?,” you ask, fingers ghostly dancing over his six pack, trying to push away the nerves you were feeling.

he chuckles before leaning over, body trapping yours, lips finding that spot he left off of, as he continues to trail kisses on your stomach. your body can’t help but react, arching towards him. his fingers tugging on your pajama shorts.

“let’s take this off, bunny,” you comply, hips raising up, shorts sliding down your legs and you almost curse yourself at the underwear you decided to wear – a white one with cute little brown bears all over it.

jeno smirks, “really mature choice of underwear,” he teases and you scowl, “shut up, jeno,” you say, trying to hold onto the little pride you had left. he chuckles until he spots the dripping arousal your underwear has collected and something inside him shifts.

he wants to ruin you…so bad.

“look at you, bunny,” his voice drops an octave deeper, “already so wet and i haven’t even touched you,” he kisses the inside of your thigh and you feel your pussy clench, “you don’t even know what we can do with all this, huh?,” he says, gazing up at you. you watch him, as he got up, pulling you to the edge of the bed.

jeno’s hands wrapped around his cock and you tense up, “neno, are we about to have sex?,” you ask, your voice soft, timid, a hint of fear – it drives him absolutely nuts.

“no bunny, i won’t take that from you,” he says softly, “just want you to feel something, okay? just a little clit stimulation,” he explains and before you could even ask him what that means his cock was inside your underwear — collecting all your juices, tip hitting your clit over and over again as he slides up and down your wet folds.

“ohhh,” you release a sigh of pleasure, eyebrows furrowing as you try to understand this new feeling.

“feel’s good?,” he says, smirking at you.

“y-yeah,” you manage to breathe out and jeno absolutely loves the way your face was contorting.

he was playing a dangerous game with himself and this is supposed to be all about you. all he wants to do is insert his tip. just the tip. before he could lose control he stops, pulling his cock out of your underwear.

“why’d you stop?,” you ask, frustrated, already missing the lack of contact.

he chuckles, “my fingers will feel better,” he says for his own sanity.

he finally tugs off your underwear, the cool air hitting your pussy, before his thumb starts circling around your sensitive bud – rough, slow, precise circles that elicited a loud moan from you.

you slap your fingers across your mouth, surprised at the sound you made.

“don’t do that,” he orders, grabbing your fingers and latching it onto his before bringing it up over your head, a strong hand keeping it there, “want to hear you moan, bunny,” he whispers, sucking that sensitive spot just below your ear, earning another breath of moan from you.

your body arches up towards him, hips raising to his touch and he knew you were ready for more.

“gonna stick a finger in,” he warns, not giving you time to respond as his digit slides inside your hole, making you tense up, “relax,” he places a soft kiss on your lips, distracting you from the stretch, “it’s okay,” even with your dripping arousal, you were so so so fucking tight. he didn’t even know it was possible for someone to be this tight.

with a tiny bit of force, he pushes his finger in through your walls, “gonna make you feel real good, bunny,” he soothes as you slowly relax into his touch.

“gonna add another okay?,” he says and you just nod, trusting him completely. this stretch is definitely larger, and you find yourself biting down your lip. his fingers were so thick.

he slowly, gently thrusts them in and out, giving you time to adjust, “it’ll feel real good soon,” he seals with a kiss to your lips as he continues to stretch you out. fingers scissoring your walls until your pussy finally sucked him in.

the feeling of having something inside you was entirely new, strange, and you’re still trying to figure out if it felt good or not. but then jeno curls his finger and that knot in your stomach is rising faster and faster.

you want to know what happens when it finally breaks.

“ohh…neno,” you breathily moan, the pain completely morphing into pleasure. your walls completely adjusting to him, “please” you plead, not entirely sure what you were begging for.

your sweet, innocent, delicious moans of his name awakens something in him.

“im gonna eat you out now,” he tells you.

before you could protest, the idea of it making you feel embarrassed, he was already in between your legs, sucking on that spot that makes your eyes roll back.

“ohhh fuck, jeno,” you cry out, his tounge lapping up your juices, swirling around your sensitive bud, fingers still curling inside of you.

“neno, s-something’s happening,” you say in heavy pants, your breathing becoming shakier.

“p-please,” you beg, eyes wide, jaw going slack as you start panting, your hands gripping his hair, trying to ground yourself.

that coil in your stomach is hanging on by a single thread.

jeno looks up at you, he can feel you coming to a close. your walls pulsating around his fingers. he decides to finally send you over the edge, fingers rubbing fast, harsh, circles around your clit as the other continues to hit that sweet spot.

“let it happen, bunny,” he whispers, “let go…come all over my hand,” your best friend’s voice was the final push.

the thread snaps. the knot breaks.

you came crashing apart, stomach clenching, toes curling, eyes rolling to the back of your head. vision slipping into absolute darkness, feeling like you were floating.

jeno coaxes you through your orgasm, letting you ride out every wave. the sight of you unraveling drives him completely insane and it takes every nerve of self control to not ram his cock into you.

“such a good girl, bunny” he praises, littering kisses along your jaw, slow, reverent, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you. your breathing is erratic, chest rising in short, shuddery pulls as you come down from everything.

he shuffles around your room quietly, grabbing a clean towel out of your bathroom before making his way back to your bed, gently cleaning you up.

your eyes flutter open at his touch. your best friend’s smile greets you, safe and warm, “you okay?” he asks and his voice is too tender. too full of something you don’t see.

“t-hat,” you clear your throat, a weak laugh slipping out, “that was a really fun lesson,” you smile, still caught in your daze.

jeno smiles back at you but it’s hollow and empty and he hates himself for smiling at all.

reality slaps him in the face, something in him crumples as he’s reminded that all of this – all the care, all the closeness wasn’t for him. it was all just for practice. a rehearsal for someone else. and now he’s drowning in the realization that he’s just the one you trust, not the one you want.

he’s helping you be prepared for another man, still pretending like it doesn’t kill him.

he almost wants to kill every man in the world for you to finally see him.

he stands, needing to put space between you, between what just happened and everything he’s feeling. but you catch him.

“where are you going?,” you ask, when he pulls his clothes off the ground, pulling his sweats up, getting ready to leave.

“back to the frat”

“jeno, it’s late, just stay the night,” you say, casually, easy. like it’s nothing. like it’s normal. like he didn’t just get a taste of something he’ll never recover from.

and it should’ve been easy. it should’ve been nothing. it should’ve been normal. he has stayed countless nights before.

but it’s not easy. it's not nothing. and it’s definitely not normal.

“please,” you say, moving over, making room for him and patting the space he usually took up.

jeno hesitates for a second or two before doing the one thing he never does if you were any other girl — he crawls back into your bed, your sheets and pillows molding to the shape of his body.

you immediately curl into his chest like it’s instinct. filling in that space that’s always been yours. legs tangle. skin touches skin.

it feels normal but it’s not. not with so little between you. not with everything unsaid.

jeno holds you close like he always does but this time he wonders if it’s the last. the sound of his heartbeat lulls you to sleep but he stays awake, eyes fixed on the ceiling, counting the cracks in his heart, wondering how much longer he can survive being just your best friend.

his fingers thread gently through your hair, slow and careful, memorizing the feel of you beneath his touch. the familiar scent of your strawberry shampoo wraps around him, soft and warm and absolutely cruel. it smells like home, like comfort, like everything he’s always wanted.

and then, in a voice so quiet it barely disturbs the silence, he whispers into the night air, words only for the moon to hear:

“i’m in love you, bunny.”

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

the sun filters in gently, casting golden lines across your bedroom floor. you stir before he does, eyes blinking open to the soft rise and fall of his chest, quiet snores filling the air.

jeno’s arm is still wrapped around you, strong and secure, holding you like he didn’t want to let go. his face is relaxed, lips parted slightly, his usually styled hair falls softly on his features — he looks so vulnerable, peaceful.

he looks like the version of himself you remember all those years ago.

you should pull away but you don’t. instead, you study him — every line of his face, older now, more defined, but still him. you’ve seen him like this before, countless times, but something feels different now. you feel different.

and then it hits you, soft and sudden.

the feelings you had for him after you kissed him. the feelings you had for him when you wore your pink puffy dress, him in a pink matching tie as you danced the night away for prom. the feelings you had for him when he held you that night your world was falling apart.

you’ve always just needed him.

all of it crashes back into you at once — feelings you’d buried under years of pretending. years of silence. feelings you quickly tucked away the first time he talked about another girl.

the way you trained yourself to look away. the way you learned to smile through the ache. the way you accepted your fate of being his best friend.

your eyes drop to where your legs are still tangled with his, you notice the bulge in his sweats and memories of last night play in your mind. you feel his warmth everywhere and you wonder how you ever got used to not feeling this. how you ever convinced yourself that this didn’t mean something.

you knew that once he woke up. this would all be over. you would go back to being his best friend. back to the operation. back to the almosts that were always never enough.

so for a moment you let yourself have this, just for a minute longer. the closeness, the warmth, the boy who’s always been there. you snuggle into his side once more, nestling into the warmth of him, letting your eyes fall shut again.

the next time your eyes flutter open, you’re met with the cold reality you’ve always lived in. the warmth that surrounds you is gone. the space beside you is empty.

jeno is gone.

you sit up slowly, a heavy thud echoing in your chest, not of panic or confusion but just that quiet, hollow ache that settles in when you’re reminded that he will never be yours.

your eyes scans the room, no shoes by the door, his shirt nowhere to be seen. no signs he was ever there at all except for the faint scent of his cologne lingering in your sheets.

swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, you wrap the blanket around yourself as if that would fill the space he left behind. you check your phone, hoping for a message but there’s nothing.

something twists in your chest — you were just another name on his list.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

forty-eight hours.

that's how long it has been since you’ve last seen your best friend. forty-eight hours of sitting in the library alone. forty-eight hours of him not showing up to your shared classes. forty-eight hours of absolutely no contact. your messages were left on delivered. no goofy tiktoks. no instagram reels. nothing. and you hated every second of it.

you miss him and you’re not entirely sure why he had suddenly fallen off the face of the earth.

giselle: hey girly! <3 go to the party at the dream frat tonight, the girls and i are all gonna be there! <333

giselle: and sungchan will be there ;)

you stare at the messages.

you had nothing better to do and you’re hoping that maybe you’ll get a glimpse of your best friend while you’re there. just to see if he was doing okay.

you slipped on a light blue mini dress that accentuates your figure, did your makeup, paired it with white heels and you were good to go.

the dream fraternity still had a pretty huge crowd considering it was a wednesday night. bodies pressed together, bass shaking the walls, the usual laughter and shouting blurring into one.

you spot jeno almost immediately, in that same corner he seemed to always be in. there’s a new girl on his arm — pretty, tall, fair-skinned. you don’t recognize her. something in your heart twists.

you knew all the girls he was seeing. every girl he flirted with, hooked up with, even the ones he ghosted. usually you were the first one he would tell it to. the first one to know everything about him.

but now? he’s shut you out. it was loud and clear. he has drawn a line between you. the same line he draws once he’s gotten all that he wanted with whoever was his current conquest.

you felt absolutely sick. the years of friendship going down the drain just like this. your heart splitting into two while he’s just standing there, laughing, flirting, completely unaffected by the wreckage he left behind.

if he doesn’t need you then you don’t need him either. if he can act normal then you can too.

you force yourself to look away, scanning the crowd until you spot giselle and the rest of the girls in the middle of the makeshift dance floor, “y/n! you’re hereee!,” she squeals, giving you a tight, buzzing hug that makes you laugh for the first time in days.

“here! take a shot!,” she hands you a drink and you down it quickly, the alcohol burning your throat in the best way possible.

the dj plays a song that gets everyone hyped up and you feel yourself letting loose, having fun, with the girls beside you, already feeling better than you did when you walked in here.

then a hand taps your shoulder and you turn to see the boy that makes your mind race into a million happy tunes, “sungchan!,” you greet him with a wide smile. he looks down at you, amused.

“hi, pretty girl,” he whispers in your ear, hands settling on your waist. his touch is warm against your skin but it doesn’t burn the way jeno’s did. doesn’t leave you branded.

“you’re not gonna run away this time are you?,” he teases, playfully, earning a giggle from you.

“sorry about that, i was just…too drunk,” you lie. the lie jeno taught you.

“are you too drunk now?,” he asks, leaning in, a twinkle in his eye.

you smirk, biting your lips, “no.”

sungchan kisses you, rough, fast and with no room for gentleness. this time, you don’t freeze. you kiss him just as hard. you let his hands roam around your body from your waist to your hips to your ass.

but kissing sungchan wasn’t like kissing jeno.

it doesn’t feel the same. doesn’t feel as good. there were no butterflies, no fireworks, no dizzy, floating feeling.

you’re still grounded. still painfully aware that you’re in the middle of drunk, sweaty strangers. he didn’t take you to a different dimension. your body was just there – moving your mouth against his like a robot programmed to do so. but your heart? your heart’s somewhere else.

and it was so annoying that at a time like this, your lips on your long-time crush, that you’ve made the realization that your heart was where it always was — in the hands of the boy in the corner.

the same boy whose lips, touch, words imprinted your heart in a way that you could never forget.

the same boy who could never see you the way you see him.

suddenly you pull away, too fast, too sharp – the feelings rushing into you all at once, suffocating, overwhelming.

sungchan stares at you like you were crazy and perhaps you are. “i-i need to use the bathroom,” you murmur, forcing a small, apologetic smile. he nods slowly, “alright, i’ll just be here.”

you quietly slip from his arms, pushing through all the bodies, barely noticing the music or the people pressing in on all sides.

and when you finally push open the bathroom door, it’s like exhaling for the first time in minutes. you grip the edge of the sink, chest heaving, trying to gather the pieces of yourself that scattered the moment you woke up alone.

you wished jeno was here.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

almost like he had a radar that went off, everytime you were near him. the second you walked through the door, jeno felt it. his gaze snapped to you instinctively but he looked away just as fast.

he’s not ready to face you. not ready to continue pretending.

the next time he saw you, you were making out with sungchan. kissing him the way he taught you. and god, he needed a drink. lots of it. the image burns in his mind, cruel and unrelenting.

he wants to chop off the guy’s hands. wants to make sure he doesn’t touch you ever again.

he wants him to know that his hands were on you first. that it was his lips he was tasting. that you were his.

but that’s not the case. so he goes and grabs another drink, another shot, another mix of poison to blur the pain.

the sound of your name snaps him back to reality.

“why do you keep waiting around for y/n anyway, there’s so many hotter girls around,” the voice is lazy, mocking, it was that wonbin guy from the riize fraternity.

jeno leans against the the wall, hidden in the shadows as he listens in on their conversation.

“well, one she’s hot,” sungchan snickers and jeno’s jaw tenses.

“and two, rumor is she’s still a virgin,” there’s a wicked amusement in his tone, “and we all know virgins are the hottest in the room.”

laughter erupts around them, sharp, cruel, echoing off the walls and that was all it took.

jeno doesn’t think. doesn’t hesitate.

in one quick second, he marched over, fist landing right on the sungchan’s jaw, the crack loud and satisfying, sending the soccer player tumbling backwards.

“what the hell?!,” sungchan yells, rubbing at his jaw before his expression twists in rage. in the next breath, he lunges. his fist catching jeno clean across the cheek.

jeno barely flinches. the soccer player was stronger than he thought, he’d give him that. but nothing is getting past his rage, adrenaline coursing through him.

he’s not done. not even close.

he charges forward, ramming sungchan into the wall with a force that rattles the shelves beside them, “don’t ever fucking touch her again,” he growls, voice low and deadly.

sungchan pushes back, shoving him hard, “she’s not yours,” and his words hits deeper than any punch could. because it was true. you weren’t his. and he’s almost sure you would kill him for this but he doesn’t care.

jeno throws another fist, connecting with sungchan’s ribs, making him grunt and double over for a second before retaliating with a wild swing.

more people gather now, phones out, flashes going off, chants of “fight, fight, fight,” increasing all around them.

sungchan, lunges, tackling jeno to the ground as they roll, fists flying, shouts echoing.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

the loud commotion coming from outside the bathroom door forces you to pick up the pieces.

shouts. thuds. chaos.

you quickly gather yourself, pulling open the door and following the swarm of bodies funneling toward the noise like a moth drawn to a light.

and then you see him — you know that figure immediately, even with his back towards you.

your best friend was on top of someone, fists repetitively slamming down. your heart lurches, legs moving before your mind can catch up.

they roll and you see sungchan’s face bruised and battered.

what the fuck?

around them, the crowd erupts in shouts and arguments, phones raised like this was some kind of show.

the dream boys were trying to get a hold of the situation but they too just ended up shouting and arguing with the riize fraternity, voices overlapping in a haze of testosterone and ego.

“your guy started it first!”

“you’re on our turf!”

the room was absolute chaos and no one’s doing a damn thing. you finally push through the roaring crowd, running over to them, until you’re at the center of the storm.

“stop!,” you shout, but your pleas are swallowed by the noise as they continue to take jabs at each other.

with all your strength, you yank on sungchan’s shirt, sending him stumbling off jeno.

you finally take a good look at your best friend, he had a nasty cut forming on the side of his forehead, face flushed and bruised.

“y/n,” he breathes your name like he’s shocked you’re here.

he stumbles to his feet, eyes darting behind you “get out of here,” he says urgently.

you whirl around only to see that sungchan wasn’t done. he was charging at your best friend again.

without thinking, you step in – fist connecting with his throat – sharp, clean, brutal. completely flying him backwards as he gasped for air.

the crowd cheers.

of course you knew how to punch, you grew up with three men three times your size.

“okay, that's ENOUGH!” mark’s voice rips through the room like a whip – loud and absolutely furious. the crowd freezes, the chaos dies down. he grabs sungchan by the arm and shoves him toward his crew.

“get the fuck out of here,” he commands the room, controlling the crowd. bodies scattering like cockroaches under a light.

you turn to jeno, chest heaving, fury radiating off you, “what the fuck was that?”

jeno flinches at your tone like it was more painful than any of the punches he had just taken. you were never mad at each other. not like this.

when he doesn’t answer, you turn around, jaw tight, ready to leave.

“wait–,” jeno jolts back to reality.

you pause, barely looking over your shoulder, “what?!,” your anger is palpable, brows furrowed, chest still rising and falling too fast.

he softens, “your hand is bleeding,” he says gently. you glance down at your knuckles, raw and stained red, the adrenaline fading just enough for the sting to set in.

“c’mon,” he grabs your uninjured hand carefully and without another word, he leads you through the dispersing crowd, up the stairs and into the safety of his room.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

you stand in jeno’s bathroom, the fluorescent light above casting a soft glow on both of you. he dabs the small, barely any, blood that had stained your knuckles, applying ointment on the tiny wounds.

“you’re being dramatic, there’s barely anything there,” you mutter, watching how focused he is.

“just don’t want it to get infected,” he says quietly, his brows still drawn together.

then with a soft chuckle, “i can’t believe you punched him,” he smiles his trademark smile and for a second, you forget you were currently angry at him.

“no one hurts my neno and gets away with it,” you tease, the words light on your tongue, but they steal the air from jeno’s lungs. you were always protecting him.

your eyes meet his and the moment stretches. but then you remember yourself, remember why your chest is tight and your heart is sore. so you press your lips into a thin line, forcing away the smile that appeared.

a quiet silence hangs in the air, heavy, almost awkward, until jeno’s voice breaks it, “done,” he says, turning to leave the bathroom and into his bedroom.

before he could take another step, your hand captures his wrist.

“your face is bleeding,” you point out.

you guide him to sit on the edge of the tub, slotting yourself between his legs. no matter how mad you guys are at each other, this is what you do. you take care of each other. your fingers are careful, precise, as you press a cotton pad soaked in alcohol to the gash on his temple.

a particular swipe on the cut stings him, a hiss slipping past his lips as his hands instinctively finds the back of your thighs, gripping, like he’s grounding himself through you. the small contact is enough to bring back that familiar knot tightening in your stomach.

“stop being a baby,” you say, dabbing again, “this is your fault.”

he smirks faintly, “how are you so sure i started the fight?”

“please,” you scoff, “in what world would sungchan go up to you and punch you? especially since he’s in your territory,” you point out, quite familiar with the whole fraternity rules.

he sighs in defeat.

“what happened anyway?,” you ask cautiously, not sure if you were ready for the answer.

“nothing,” he says, a little too quickly.

you stop, eyes narrowing, “no secrets between us remember?,” you remind him.

right, that silly rule you made when you were eight years old and still held on to to do this day.

jeno sighs, his shoulder falling, “he said something about you. i didn’t like it,” he confesses and you still.

“what did he say about me?,” you ask, curious.

“that he only wanted you because you were a virgin,” he mutters, jaw clenching again like it’s the first time he’s hearing it. the urge to punch sungchan in the face coming back in seconds.

it was supposed to hurt. it was supposed to leave you angry, embarrassed, hollow — to hear those words coming from the boy you’ve had a crush on since freshman year. but that feeling of heartache never came. instead, confusion clouds your chest.

why did he care? that wasn’t supposed to be his battle.

“hmm,” you hum thoughtfully, tone laced with challenge “and what if i was okay with that?”

his hands on your legs twitch, just slightly

“you shouldn’t be,” he snaps, “you shouldn’t lose it to a guy like him.”

and just like that, the anger ignites. your hands finish cleaning him up in cold, calculated movements. you removed yourself from his space, placing the first aid kit back in the drawer with a little too much force, organizing everything just to keep from exploding because who the hell was he to decide who you should have sex with?

“oh? and who should i lose it to?,” you seethe.

“a guy like you?,” there’s a sort of anger in your voice that jeno can’t quite read.

“aren’t you the same?,” you throw at him, voice trembling with fury.

jeno furrows his brows at your insinuation, like he’s been slapped, “y/n–,”

“you left, jeno,” your voice is quiet, but it slices through the space between you like a blade. you give him one last look before storming out of the bathroom. and jeno finally understands it all.

“wait, bunny–”

you don’t stop. not even as you hear his footsteps close behind you, not even as your chest rises with every breath that feels too heavy to hold.

you make it into his bedroom but before you can reach for the door, his hands close around your wrist, gentle but firm and in the next second he spins you around and crashes his lips onto yours.

the fire in your chest blazes and still, you kiss him back.

the kiss melts into something deeper, hungrier. your hands grip his shirt as his thumb brushes your jaw. he pulls away just enough to press his forehead against yours, both of you breathless, hearts racing.

“that’s why i left,” he murmurs, voice barely a whisper between your shared air.

your brows draw together, confusion clouding your gaze, “what does that even mean?”

“can’t you feel it,” he says, guiding your hand to his chest, letting you feel the frantic rhythm beneath your palm, “the way my heart is beating, it only ever races like this because of you,” he confesses.

you swallow hard, barely finding your voice, “but you left,” you remind him, “why did you leave?”

his eyes flicker with something raw, something that’s been buried for too long, “because i couldn’t pretend anymore,” he says, voice shaking with the weight of it, “i couldn't go another day being your best friend–not when im so fucking in love with you that it hurts.”

his confession leaves you stunned and you can’t believe how blind you’ve both been. all these years of mutual pining, years of missed moments, of stolen glances and silent aching all leading up to this moment.

a tearful laugh escapes you, half breathless, half broken, “you’re a fucking idiot,” you whisper, voice shaking with the force of everything you feel, a mixture of love, frustration and the tenderness of finally hearing the truth.

with urgency, a quiet desperation, you pull him back in, leaning up to kiss him.

the kiss is slow but intense, full of everything you’ve both kept hidden, everything you’ve both wanted for so long.

jeno doesn't need to hear you say it. he feels it in the way your lips meet his, the way you kiss him like your very existence depends on it. he knows now that you’ve been waiting for this – waiting for each other, for the truth that was always there.

you deepen the kiss and jeno meets you with equal fervor, tongues moving with an ease that feels natural, as if it’s a rhythm you’ve both known forever.

you guide him towards you, steps slow but deliberate, until the back of your knees hits the edge of his bed, falling into the softness of his sheets, pulling him down with you, lips never once breaking from his.

pushing yourself up until your head hit his pillows. jeno follows your lips like you were magnets drawn together. he couldn’t get enough.

you pull on the hem of his shirt. jeno quickly tugs it off over his head, tossing it to the side, diving right back into you. the kiss is hungry, steamy, full of tongue, leaving you no room to breathe.

your fingers dance through his skin, feeling every muscle. jeno guides you to sit up, quickly finding the zipper in the back of the dress, sliding it off your body, leaving you in a lacy blue underwear that makes his cock twitch.

the dress didn’t warrant a bra, your breasts immediately exposed to the cool air, making jeno groan in satisfaction, his large hand latches on to your tit, loving the way it fits perfectly in his hand.

“you’re so beautiful, bunny,” he praises before his tongue circles against your sensitive nipple. he looks up, not wanting to miss your reaction. light, breathy moans spill from your lips, back arching at his touch, feeling every warmth he left behind.

he moved all throughout your body, taking his time, memorizing every detail, worshipping you with every brush of his lips.

his hand slip under your panties, wet and soaking for him. the familiar circles of his fingers on your clit immediately sends a wave of pleasure through you. you were already shaking, that fire inside you growing.

that delicious stretch of your pussy as he stuck two digits in makes your eyes roll back, overwhelming in the best way possible, a broken moan spilling from your lips. your hips move on their own, grinding on his hand, chasing that friction you can’t get enough of.

jeno has already memorized you. curling his fingers just right, dragging them against that spot that made your thoughts scatter, heat spreading through you so quickly.

“jeno—” his name left you as a gasp, pleasure building deep inside you. this time you knew what it was, “i-m coming,” you moan.

“i got you bunny, let me hear you” he whispered, his pace quickening, matching the frantic way your body moved with his touch, until you were spilling into his hand.

he coaxes you through it, littering soft kisses on your ear, along your jaw, down to your neck — making sure to leave a mark.

making sure everyone knew that you were his.

your eyes flutter open. there was still that growing fire inside you, burning hotter, higher. you needed more.

when you reach down for his belt, fingers clumsily fumbling at the buckle, urgency pushing you faster than your hands could manage, jeno snaps out of the trance he’s in, making his way back to your eyes.

“are you sure?,” he gasped, the words rushed, like he was forcing them out before he lost all sense of reason.

you nodded so fast, so desperate, “jeno, please.”

“we don’t have to do this, bunny, we can take it slow…i don’t want to rush you,” he panted, voice fraying at the edges. the thought of stopping absolutely wrecks him but you are more important than the desire spreading through him.

you refuse to wait any longer, you’ve already waited years. your whole body aches with the need you’d kept buried for so long. the need only he could fulfill.

“neno,” you whispered, voice trembling with need, “i want this…i need you.”

his resolve shattered at the sound of your plea.

“okay,” he breathed, kissing you gently before finally discarding his pants, boxers following suit, leaving him completely bare.

slowly, he removed your panties, the last remaining cloth between you. he reaches over his nightstand drawer, pulling out a condom and wrapping it on his hard cock, a grunt spilling from his lips.

“still sure?,” he searches your eyes for any signs of hesitation because if there was, even the tiniest one, he would stop immediately. no questions asked. no regret. no matter how badly he didn’t want to.

“so sure neno, it’s always been you,” you whispered, threading your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer, letting him know that every single piece of you wanted him — heart, body and soul.

that was his final confirmation.

he kissed you once, slow and tender, before his hands roamed, leaving goosebumps that made you ache even more, “i’ll go slow,” he promised, voice thick with emotion “tell me if you need to stop, okay? at any point bunny, i’ll stop.”

you nodded, your heart hammering against your ribs so loudly you were sure he could hear it. fear and want and overwhelming love swirling in your chest.

finally, he aligned his cock against your hole, hand shaking slightly as he guided himself into you.

the stretch burns — it was nothing like his fingers, his cock was harder, thicker, fuller. and you’re not entirely sure if he could fit.

instinctively you tensed, eyes shutting close at the pain, a whiny hiss slipping from your lips.

jeno immediately froze, his thumb stroking soothing circles against your hip, “you’re doing so good, bunny,” he praises, forehead resting against yours, “breathe for me okay? we can take all the time you need,” he was so soft, so caring, so gentle.

your fingers tighten on his shoulder, just for a second, letting him know that you understood.

jeno fought to stay still, fought to put you first. but god, it hurts. you felt so good around him. so tight. so warm. he needed to move.

you forced yourself to relax, letting out a shaky breath and he pressed forward again, slower this time, giving you time to adjust to another inch of him.

“almost there, bunny, just a couple more,” he says softly, treating you like glass. you were so fragile. so pretty. your eyebrows furrowing in pain, lips parted slightly.

it hurt but it was jeno, and that made it bearable. your tight walls continued to adjust around him, molding to the size of his large cock.

with one final, gentle push, he was fully seated inside you, grunts spilling from his lips onto yours.

he stayed there, not moving, just breathing with you. trying to control his own desires. one hand cradles your cheek, carefully pushing away the hair that has stuck to your skin, “you’re amazing,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple, “taking all of me,” he continues praising, “so perfect, bunny.”

a few tears slid from your eyes. from the sting, from the love, from everything. jeno kissed them away with such tenderness.

“i love you,” you manage to whisper, his lips on yours in an instant, savoring it. the words makes jeno shift inside you.

that small burst of friction is enough to ignite the pleasure. it still hurt but you needed to feel it, to feel more.

and when you finally whispered, “move, please,” jeno felt like the air was rushing back in his lungs.

only then did he start rocking into you — careful, controlled, every movement meant to bring you closer to pleasure.

he angles his cock perfectly, each thrust sending a a wave of butterflies in your stomach. the pain slowly disappeared as your walls sucked him in, until you were only left with pleasure so mind numbing, you can no longer think about anything but the way the tip of his cock kept on kissing that spot that made you see stars. he was perfect.

“fuckkk bunny, you take me so well, pussy was made for me,” jeno grunts hopelessly. he was coming undone embarrassingly fast. for someone who was supposed to be an expert, you had him trembling, shaking.

it was different with you — he loves you.

every emotion hits him to the fullest. he feels you all around him. his rhythm starting to stutter, abs starting to clench as he tried to hold on to the remaining sanity he had left.

“you’re making a mess out of me,” he grunts, “please come on my cock,” he begs, whines, pleading for permission. his fingers finding your sensitive bud, rubbing slow but harsh circles.

you’ve never felt fuller. never felt more satisfied. that heat spreading down to your toes, your head rolling back in complete bliss as the high came crashing over you in breathy, broken moans of only his name — pussy immediately tightening around him, sending him to his own release as he spilled into the condom.

through it all, jeno whispered against your skin, grunts of i love you’s and praises hitting your ears in the most melodic way.

when you both calmed down, he pulled you into his arms, head resting on the heart that’s always been yours.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

you woke up to jeno’s brown eyes already staring at you, his fingers gently threading through your hair.

“good morning,” he murmured, eye smile on display and in an instant the memories of last night came rushing back, vivid and electric.

“good morning” you whispered back, both of you grinning like lovesick fools.

“how are you feeling?” he asks softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

you smile at him, “i feel amazing,” you say, leaning up to kiss him.

his hand on your waist is hard to ignore. as well as the bulge that’s currently hitting your inner thigh.

“and you’re feeling excited, aren’t you?,” you pull back, slightly teasing him.

“shut up,” he smiles, cheeks flushing, “it’s not my fault i woke up next to my very hot girlfriend”

your eyes widen slightly, “girlfriend, huh?”

“mhm, is that okay with you, bunny?”

“hmm,” you pretend to think about it but the smile tugging on your lips betrays you, “sounds perfect.”

jeno pulled you in for another kiss, his smile pressed against yours. before he could deepen it, you pushed him down to his bed sheets, hovering over him with a gleam in your eyes.

“what are you doing?,” he rasped, the bold movement catching him off guard, making his breath shift, excitement coursing through his veins.

“girlfriend duties,” you smirk.

you littered kisses down his body until you were head to head with his cock, already flushed, thick and throbbing for you.

without hesitation, you licked a slow stripe up his length, tasting him, humming in satisfaction before wrapping your lips around his tip and taking in as much of his length as you could.

jeno watched you, his hands behind his head, a proud smirk on his face. and when you look up to make eye contact with him, his smirk fades into a helpless groan.

“fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” his hand instantly threading into your hair, bunching it up and pushing it out of your face. he wanted to see you. wanted to see your mouth around him.

you hollowed your cheeks and started to move, bobbing your head at that speed you knew he liked.

what can you say? you’re a quick learner.

his hips twitched, barely holding back from fucking your mouth.

every wet, obscene sound filled the room, and you loved the way he was falling apart for you, chest heaving, hands gripping you tighter. his grunts make you clench around nothing.

jeno came in minutes, gasping for your name as he struggled to breathe. his hot release shoots down your throat. this time, you swallowed every single drop, milking him dry, only pulling off when he whimpered from overstimulation, pushing your hand away.

“how the hell are you already so good at that?,” he groans, the aftershocks of his orgasm still hitting him.

“i have a really good teacher,” you chuckle, making your way back to him, kissing him, making him taste his own juices as your tongues battled for dominance.

jeno flips you over, roughly, quickly, the sudden shift making you squeal in laughter, as he settles in between your legs.

“your turn,” he says, voice low and dangerous.

his mouth immediately laps around you, licking, sucking, spitting — filthy and hungry. it was so messy, so wet, so crude, and yet it felt so so good. your head is spinning, heart racing, thighs trembling

you’re right there, at the edge, ready to fall — and then the door swings wide open. you shriek, arms crossing, immediately covering your chest just as jeno scrambles to hover over you, covering every inch of you with his large frame.

“jeno what do you want for break—?” jaemin barges in, stepping into the room like he hasn’t just shattered the moment.

“oh,” jaemin smirks, this situation extremely familiar, “i see,” he teases, tone dripping with fake innocence.

jeno’s entire body stiffens, his butt literally clenching as he growls, “jaemin, get the fuck out.”

he doesn't spare the boy a glance, focused only on making sure he doesn’t see any part of your body.

jaemin bursts out laughing, “alright alright, enjoy your breakfast,” he says before locking the door behind him and leaving the two of you alone.

the second he’s gone, jeno exhales a heavy breath of relief. you both lie there, faces burning red.

“i’m gonna kill him,” he mutters before the two of you erupted in giggles, your shared laughter harmonizing in the air.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

a week of being jeno’s girlfriend could only be described as pure bliss. the perfect balance of best friends and lovers. you were the power couple, always walking into the room like you owned it.

not much has changed between you two, you still tell him to shut up, he’s still dramatic, still the best of friends, except this time there’s a million shared kisses, lingering touches, whispered confessions and sex (lots of sex).

he’s unlocked something in you. something wild, primal, greedy — desire wrapping it’s hands around you. you can’t get enough of him. you craved him again and again and again.

and jeno was just undone, just as hopelessly in love. he thought his sex drive was bad before, it’s even worse now. every little thing you did triggered him — a smile, a glance, a soft laugh, it all sent him spiraling, desperate to have you. his need for you was overwhelming, a fire he had no intention of putting out.

he taught you how to touch yourself, you watched him masturbate. he kissed you in places you never knew were sensitive, made love to you in so many different positions, locations, each one leaving you breathless and trembling in his arms — making up for all the lost time.

today, when jeno walked into the library, he noticed your figure missing from your usual shared table. you were supposed to be here by now, you were always here at this hour.

his eyes quickly scan the space, feet walking around, searching every corner, every dusty nook, trying to find a glimpse of you. he finally spots you at the corner, tucked away in the back with the old shelves filled with forgotten books.

“what are you doing all the way over here?,” he asks, snapping your attention towards him, as he placed a soft kiss on your temple.

“just wanted a quieter place to read,” you feign innocence, picking up your book and pretending to be interested once more. jeno doesn’t question it, just pulls out the chair beside you and sits, his thigh pressed hard against yours. he pulls out his assignments, busying himself.

“neno,” you call out to him, a playful flicker in your eyes as you put your book down, “want to know a fun fact?,” you say.

he smiles at you, still unaware of what you had brewing in your mind, “sure, bunny.”

you lean in close, your chest brushing against his arm, “i’m not wearing any panties,” you whisper, only for his ear to hear.

he gulps, eyes quickly scanning the room, afraid someone was close enough to hear that. when he realizes you two were definitely alone, he finally takes in the fact that you were wearing a cute pink skirt, “fuck, are you serious?,” he whispers.

you shrug, “why don’t you find out?,” picking up your book, a playful grin on your lips, you flipped through the pages pretending to be interested, excitement bubbling inside you.

you didn’t have to tell him twice.

you flinched slightly when his cold fingertips first made contact with your thigh, slowly slipping underneath your skirt, leaving a trail of goosebumps. you barely had time to react before his fingers slipped between your thighs, urging them apart.

and when he finds you bare and soaked for him, jeno can’t help but let out a groan, his cock twitching in his pants.

you just started a dangerous game and he was eager to play. eager to ruin you in this public space. excited to watch you try and hide your moans.

“so fucking warm,” he muttered, fingers collecting your juices as he slowly swiped up and down your folds, making you feel every graze of his finger.

you grabbed the edges of the book, trying to stay calm, trying to act normal even as jeno slowly, deeply slid a finger inside you.

you choke on a silent gasp, disguising it with a fake cough and jeno finds it absolutely amusing. he has no plans of taking it easy on you, especially since this was your brilliant idea.

he moved lazily at first, curling his finger inside you, feeling every clench, every desperate little twitch of your body. watching you bite your lip as you tried to contain the moans that we’re begging to be released.

“good girl,” he murmured, kissing you on the temple.

his free hand picks up his pencil, as he continued to work on his assignment, like you weren’t falling apart under the table, “just stay quiet for me, yeah?,” he smirks.

you don’t even manage a response. afraid that once you open your mouth, a loud moan of his name would slip out.

he starts writing in his notebook, fingers still moving inside you, edging you on with every second. you shifted in your seat, hips tilting up without meaning to, chasing the rhythm he set. needing him to go faster — to finally take you there.

jeno knew exactly what you needed, even without voicing it. he adds a second finger, stretching you wider, making your eyes flutter shut, your grip on your book tightening, holding onto it as if it was your lifeline.

your boyfriend grinned cockily as he fucked his fingers into you.

you thought you were safe, hidden enough until you heard distant footsteps of someone wandering nearby.

your eyes immediately snap to jeno, silently begging him to stop as you tried to shut your legs close.

but his hand was too strong, keeping you open for his fingers, “you wanted this, you’re gonna take it,” he mumbles into your hair. he didn’t stop. in fact, his thumb brushed against your clit, harsher, faster.

you buried your head in your book, biting your lip so hard it hurt, but still a tiny strangled whimpered escaped.

the footsteps paused, just for a second.

you held your breath, heat traveling up to your head, jeno still working under your skirt. the danger of being caught made it even hotter. your pulse pounding loud in your ears, body burning under his touch. and then the footsteps continued, fading into silence again.

jeno chuckles under his breath, fingers thrusting deeper, faster, his thumb never leaving your clit.

“almost got caught, bunny,” he teased, voice low and thick with lust, “bet you’d love that, huh?”

the thought made you tighten incredibly around his fingers, orgasm crashing over you like a wave you couldn’t stop, body jerking slightly in the chair as you hunched over the table, hiding your moans in your arms, desperately trying to stay as quiet as possible.

jeno’s fingers continued to work you through it until you were limp against the table, panting softly.

he pulled his fingers out slowly, letting you feel every second of it. you already felt so empty without him. he brings his fingers up to his lips, sucking them clean with a soft, sinful groan.

you sit up, watching him, wrecked and cheeks flushed, your heart pounding so hard it was all you could hear, a small satisfied grin on your lips.

jeno leans in, kissing you gently. you taste yourself on his lips, then he smirks, that devilish smirk, whispering against your ear, “next time…you’re sitting in my lap.”

𓏲 the end.

—

18+ only | watch at your own risk | contains mature content

bonus: this is so lee jeno x bunny coded -> click here

—

an: posted this earlier than i planned because if i even spend one more day with this, i’m never gonna stop writing but ahhh i can’t believe my time with this couple is over, i love them so bad!!! i hope you loved them too!

marks story is up next! since he did technically win the poll — pls give me nickname suggestions for mark’s girl! i’m currently thinking kitty but im not 100% sold >.< — she’s going to be a little more feisty than the others! slide in my ask for suggestions or simply comment here! pls!

likes, reblogs and comments are not required but is very appreciated ⏦ﾟ♡︎

tagging: @bluedbliss [if you would like to be tagged in future stories of this series, please let me know <3]

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

i’m such a sucker for sulky jealous jae, so can we get sweets tutoring new incoming brothers (jisung?) and he has a lil crush on her like haechan did, but it’s sweet and innocent, and she sees him as her baby, a sweet younger boy to help out, but to jaehyun he’s a jealous boy bc some little new kid is getting sweets attention

Sweets 🤝 You guys

causing Jae stress

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

[3:01 pm]

(cw: f!reader, threats of violence)

Fratboy!Jaehyun wouldn't have ever thought that he'd be jealous of a freshman. A pledge. A dumb one at that, yet here he was, jealous of Park Jisung. Some pledge that he was hoping would fail every test set before him. Recite every house on Greek Row? More like, recite the address of every school in the city. Recite the Greek Alphabet? Well, why stop at just Greek? Why not every other Mediterranean language while he's at it!

Jaehyun knew that Jisung failing wouldn't be the case though. Stupid Jisung who had been studying with you and stealing your attention for a while week now, so there was clearly no way he was going to fail. He could hear your gorgeous voice now, repeating all the Greek letters in the alphabet, pausing so Jisung's annoying, grating voice could repeat them.

He watches you from the kitchen where you sit cross legged on the nice rug the Nu Chi girlfriends had picked out with Jisung sitting adjacent to you. You smile, far too warmly Jaehyun thinks, at Jisung, "alright now you try."

Jisung blushes, ducking his head as he begins to repeat the alphabet. Even Jaehyun has to admit that he does pretty decent until this little dummy says, "kappa, lambda, M, nu..."

Your giggle rings through the air as you stop Jisung with a gentle hand on his shoulder. He can see Jisung's shoulders raise with bashfulness and his cheeks flush all over again, turning even brighter red as you tell him, "oh, you're just the cutest thing ever! Alright, I know it looks like an M, but its actually mu. You'll be fine though, you just have to recite the letters, not identify them."

Jaehyun can't help but zero in on where your hand touches Jisung, your words echoing in his head, 'cutest thing ever!' How is this scrawny freshman even cuter than your own boyfriend? If anything, it's your fault that he's smart now! He can go back to being dumb if that's what you think is cute! Fine! He'll fail his business classes that he needs to graduate. He'll lose all his muscle too, but you can't complain when the abs are gone or you have no more bicep muscle to bite! You've forced his hand!

Jisung ducks his head nervously, "ha, thank you, Sweets. I-I'm sorry, I know I'm just a pledge. Is it alright if I call you that? I can call you by your name if you'd like. Maybe Sweetheart, or um- I've heard Jaehyun call you Sweet Girl. I mean, that sounds a bit intimate, and you are very sweet. And a girl. I think you're one of the sweetest girls I've ever met and you're really pretty- um. I need to shut up now."

Your face falls into a pout as coo, hands reaching out to squeeze Jisung's cheeks. Jaehyun feels bitter envy bubbling in his stomach. You have only ever squeezed his cheeks like this like four times! That's not even a full hand's worth! And you've been together for like two years now! His body is just itching to move across the room and punch Jisung for flirting with you. He can at least flirt well, it's what you deserve at the very least...

However, as the mature senior that he is, Jaehyun doesn't resort to violence. He knows that you wouldn't choose Jisung over him. You've told him that you just think Jisung is cute like a child, and Jisung is shit at flirting anyway. There's no way his nerdy, awkward, bumbling rambling would ever convince you to leave your Adonis of a boyfriend.

Jaehyun sighs quietly, refocusing his thoughts as he listens to Jisung recite the alphabet slowly, his eyes staring at the ceiling as he tries to recall. As jealous as he feels, Jaehyun also feels a little proud. You're going to be such a great teacher. He knows it. You're doing such a great job helping Jisung, probably employing a bunch of methods from your classes that Jisung hasn't picked up on. Maybe not cooing at your students and squeezing their cheeks... but he knows you mean well.

Jaehyun nearly jumps out of his skin, when he hears, "want me to kill him?"

"Geez! No, Haechan! What the hell is your problem?!"

[alaskan-wallflower]

Ok but like can we just talk about how the gang can equivocate to the seven deadly sins real quick (not in the biblical sense)

Ponyboy is lust. Lust isn’t always about sex, as it is in the biblical sense. Lust is defined as “an intense desire or craving for something”, and it doesn’t just have to be sexual. Pony is a dreamer, yes, but his desires to get out of Tulsa, to get through school, to make Darry proud…it could all lead to his downfall. Pony doesn’t want to be seen as some greasy little kid, he wants the Socs to know he’s not just some grease. He craves that title, he wants it more than anything, and he’s willing to do anything to get to it, even if it means fighting with Darry, or trying to fight other people to show that. He wants control. He craves it. That’s his fatal flaw.

Sodapop is gluttony, and not really for food or anything, but for adrenaline. Gluttony is the overconsumption of anything leading to one’s waste, and he needs adrenaline to live. It’s his way of coping, his way of keeping his mind from slipping into the darkness, so to speak. He will do anything to get that hit of adrenaline, be it something harmless, like going out with Steve, or going to a rodeo, but he will go out of his way to get that hit, even if it’s dangerous. He overindulges on this “high on life” persona and ends up slipping into more harmful things, like reckless driving, or resorting to crimes just because it’s fun to outrun the cops, or overindulgence of alcohol. He’ll keep eating up this adrenaline until he ends up killing himself with it, because it’s how he copes. He’s codependent on adrenaline.

Darry is pride. Darry puts himself on a mental pedestal, he holds the “Superman” nickname a little too tightly. He needs to be that. He needs to be stronger-he IS stronger. He’s stronger than anyone he knows. They wouldn’t call him Superman if he wasn’t strong enough, would they? He refuses help, he hates when people question his authority, he needs to be not just seen, but he needs to be heard. Yes, he’s strong, but he holds the gang’s opinions of him way too tightly, to a faulty degree. Maybe the way he thinks is because of a shattered psyche, but he needs people to know he’s strong, and he will let you know.

Johnny is wrath. Johnny doesn’t like fighting, but he needs to. It’s the only way he knows how to survive. The only way he knows how to live is through fighting. His parents fight each other, his dad beats him, the socs gang up on him and fight him, it’s all he knows. Johnny is like a dog, slowly backing into a corner, but there’s only so much more space he can back into, and when he hits the wall, he’s going to bite. His “biting point” was killing Bob. Yes, it was self defense—Pony was going to die, for Christ’s sake, but it was also him being backed so far into a corner that he had nowhere else to go. He had been beaten on all his life, and he finally beat back. He had to, after all. Fighting is all he knows. For all he knows, fighting is how you show love, and maybe that’s his downfall.

Dally is greed. He craves power, in a sense. He knows how to manipulate. He does bad things because he just doesn’t care, he needs people to know he is the most powerful, tough greaser in the East Side, and he will do anything to gain that power. Dally feeds off of fear, on a sense. He constantly needs more and more and more until he snaps, because the one thing he needed, and didn’t want, was taken away from him. No amount of wanting or getting could bring back the only person he genuinely needed. When he realizes this, he just snaps. He doesn’t want Johnny to be alive, he NEEDS it. And so that’s why he snaps.

Two-Bit is sloth. Two is nineteen, still in junior year because he finds school “fun”, he doesn’t work for what he has, he’s overall kinda just a lazy person. He doesn’t have the grit needed to pass by. He’ll fight, he’ll defend his friends with no issue, but overall? He’s very unmotivated. The only thing that seems to motivate him is alcohol, and that could be due to addiction or some outside force. You could argue him to be freed because he “steals things he doesn’t actually need”, but I think he’s more sloth than anything. His lack of motivation and grit is testimony to that, in my opinion.

And Steve is envy. A lot of this is purely headcanon based, but to me, his parents got divorced, and the one time they “needed him” was when they were trying to one up each other and trying to win full custody over him. By the time the legal battles were over, his mom had found a new family, and he had been replaced. All he had was his dad, and even then, he was replaced by his father’s need for alcohol, or a punching bag, or just someone to bully. As a result, Steve grows wary of every person that comes into his loved ones’ lives. If it’s Evie hanging out with a guy friend, Soda wanting to hang out with Sandy and not him, his school friends becoming closer and simultaneously squeezing him out, he’s jealous. Sometimes to a fault. Him and Soda have had many, many, many fights about this. It’s what most of his fights with Evie stem from, and while he wants to change, the constant fear of replacement keeps him envious of every new person who interacts with his loved ones.

I dunno, I like thinking about characters flaws.

[steddiehyperfixation]

let the sun rise

this is pure self-indulgent angst sorry. inspired by this post; written for @steddiebingo prompts: time loop + established relationship + saying goodbye | 2.9k words | T | ao3 |

Steve has been living the same three days over and over again. Just before the sun rises on Thursday, March 27, 1986, the day they’re supposed to defeat Vecna, he wakes up again in the Wheeler’s basement on Monday, March 24. He’s been at this for a long time now and he’s gotten pretty good at blending in with each loop, letting all the major events play out more or less they way they’re supposed to and being careful not to do or say anything that might make anyone think there’s something weird going on with him. But sometimes he slips. Sometimes, just sometimes, he loses track, the days all blend together and he says something he shouldn’t—a mention of Vecna’s plan that won’t be told to them until the sunrise that will never come, an offhand comment referencing a conversation that only happened in a previous loop and not the current one, or an exhausted complaint about going through something again. 

It’s always Eddie who notices these slips, always Eddie with his big worried eyes and careful attention who demands to know what’s going on with him and won’t let up until Steve either tells him the truth (which rarely ends well) or gives him a believable enough excuse (which is no small feat either; Eddie has always known how to see right through him). 

“I'm in a time loop,” Steve grudgingly admits this time, too tired to come up with anything else as he crawls into Eddie’s haphazardly remade bed, fresh bat bite wounds still aching. It’s been a while since he’s told the truth, and the loop will reset soon anyways. All they have left now are these few quiet hours while Nancy collects herself after her Vecna vision and the rest of them try to sneak in a couple precious hours of sleep. 

“Oh shit.” Eddie believes him instantly, always does. Still standing at the opposite side of the bed, he looks down at Steve with wide eyes. “For how long?”

“Dunno. Years, probably. It’s a three day loop and I lost track of how many there’ve been a long time ago,” Steve answers boredly, dismissively, hoping maybe this time Eddie won’t make a big deal out of it. “It doesn’t matter. It’ll reset soon and I’ll wake up on Monday.” 

“On Monday? Steve- sweetheart, why the hell didn’t you say anything sooner?” Eddie seems agitated already, hands moving fretfully as he speaks. So much for it not being a big deal. “You should’ve told me—the kids, Nancy, Robin—we could’ve helped you get out of it! We could-” 

“I don’t want to get out of it,” Steve cuts him off. It comes out a bit sharper than he intended, but it succeeds in giving Eddie pause. 

Eddie freezes, blinks, frowns. “What do you mean you don’t want to get out of it?”

“I asked for this,” Steve says. “I chose this.” 

“The fuck you mean you chose this?”

“I mean I chose it, Eddie. It's not a riddle.” 

(Steve couldn't cope after Eddie died. They got back from the upside-down, the hospital declared Eddie DOA, and Steve shattered. Not just his heart and his soul broke, but his mind snapped too. He put on a good face in front of the others, like a mask with artfully placed cracks to let only the appropriate levels and displays of grief through, but behind it he'd gone mad. He'd become obsessed. In private, he pored through books of ancient mythologies and occult rituals, lighting candles and chanting nonsense and spilling his own blood. Because if psychic kids and monsters from parallel dimensions exist, then surely there must be other things out there too—surely there must be something that could bring Eddie back. 

For weeks nothing happened, nothing worked, but Steve kept on trying, again and again, the very definition of insanity, until finally something did. Something came to him. In the dark, in the candlelight, the shadows gathered into a shape just at the edge of his peripheral. It hurt his eyes to try to look at it, and so he closed them. He didn’t need to see it, didn’t need to know what it was—spirit or demon or god; there was only one thing that mattered: “Can you bring him back?” 

It spoke to him in a soundless voice, words that bypassed his ears and slithered straight into his brain. I cannot, it said. 

“Then what’s the fucking point of you!?” Steve shouted, hands clenched into fists, fingers pressing into the gash in his palm.

I cannot raise the dead. I cannot undo what’s already been done. But I can give you more time, the thing whispered. He felt its presence move closer. I can take you into the past, let you relive the days before his death as many times as you need to. You will not be able to change anything, try though you might, but you can see him again, touch him and hold him as he was, alive. I can give you that, if you wish. 

Steve shuddered, the shadowy entity cold at his side. “Yes,” he exhaled. “Please. Take me back.”)

Eddie shakes his head, a refusal to accept that answer. “Why would you do that?” 

“It doesn’t matter.” Steve sits up and reaches across the bed to take Eddie’s hand. “Just come here and get some sleep. Please.” 

“Tell me why.” Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand but doesn’t budge, standing firm. “Why the fuck would you willingly choose to relive three of probably the most stressful days of your entire life over and over again?”

“Eddie.” Steve tugs at his hand, begging him one more time to drop the subject. 

“Why?” Eddie insists. “Why would you do that to yourself?” 

“Because you die, Eddie!” Steve blurts out, emotion getting ahead of his better judgement. “Because you die tomorrow and there’s nothing I can do to change it except make sure that tomorrow never comes. Because if I let this next sun rise, it’ll be the last one you ever see, and we didn’t get enough time. We deserved more time. So- so I was given a choice and I took it, I had to. This was the only way I could be with you again. This was the only way I could keep you alive.” 

(That’s as much as he can say without giving away his insanity. He told Eddie the full truth once, only once, in one of the earlier loops when he was still half-mad, manically pouring out the whole story of his grief and obsession and witchcraft. Eddie had backed away from him as if from something monstrous. “Steve, you’re scaring me,” he said, and Steve made sure to never tell that story again.)

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie mutters vehemently. He drops Steve’s hand and turns away from him, raking his fingers through his hair and exhaling a sharp, heavy breath through his nose. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

Steve lets his dropped hand fall onto the bed like it weighs a ton, as heavy as the air between them and the words he’s confessed. “Please don’t get angry at me,” he pleads. He doesn’t want it to be a fight this time.

“What did you expect?” Eddie whirls back around. “You’ve been in this loop for years, I take it we’ve had this conversation before. So tell me, honestly, has there ever been a version of me that isn’t upset to learn that not only am I dead, but also that I’m the reason that you have been basically fucking torturing yourself for years?”

“No,” Steve admits. He doesn’t always act the same, so Eddie doesn’t always act the same—but whether it’s loud and angry or quiet and sad or somewhere in the middle, there has never been a loop where Eddie has reacted positively to any of this. And yet Steve still finds himself here, in loops like this one, desperate to make Eddie understand. “But it’s not like that. It’s not- I did this for you, so you could live!” 

That only makes things worse, it always does. 

“What, are you expecting a fucking thank you?” Eddie shakes his head, mangy curls flying. “You didn’t do this for me, you did this for you. Don’t you dare try to pretend like it’s anything other than purely fucking selfish. You haven’t given me any more life or any more time; I just reset, for you. You get to have all these extra years with me, but I’ll only ever have these three days with you.” His voice, though harsh and bitter, cracks; his eyes, though they blaze, are fractured and watery. “That’s not fucking fair, Steve. That isn’t right.” 

“It’s not right that you’re gone either! It’s not fucking fair that you died and you left me!” 

“Of course it fucking isn’t! But that doesn’t mean you go and stick yourself in a time loop, you idiot-!” 

“Fuck! Just stop yelling at me!” Steve sags back against the headboard, scrubbing his hands over his face and his stinging eyes. “I know, I already know. You’ve said all this before. I get it.” He drops his hands into his lap, tips his head back and closes his eyes as he sighs. He’s too fucking tired for this. Too fucking tired and in pain, and all he wants is to fall asleep in his boyfriend’s arms and wake up last Monday with this conversation erased from Eddie’s mind and a fresh loop ahead of him.  

Because Eddie’s wrong, he’s not torturing himself. Yes, they spend each loop in a near constant state of fear and stress, but they can still seek comfort in each other in the quiet moments; and even a panicked breath is still a breath, even a racing heartbeat is still a heartbeat, and Steve will treasure every second, every moment of proof he can get that they’re both still alive, together. That’s not torture when it’s all he’s got left. That’s worth everything. 

“There’s only a couple hours left of this loop,” Steve mutters wearily. “Can we please not waste it arguing with each other?” 

Eddie sighs in surrender, a slow, controlled huff like he’s still seething a little, but Steve can feel the worst of his anger beginning to curb into something softer. After a moment, the bed dips beside him and an arm slides around his shoulders. “I’m sorry,” Eddie says. He tugs Steve close and presses a kiss into his hair. “I don’t think you’re an idiot. I think you’ve just got too much heart for your own good, and I’m flattered that I mean so much to you. But…I also think that you need to let me go.”

Steve opens his eyes to Eddie’s soft, sad ones. It’s unbearable. He ducks his head, settling it onto Eddie’s shoulder and burrowing even further against his side. “Yeah,” Steve exhales a humorless laugh, “you’ve said that before too.” 

“And you’ve never listened,” Eddie says the obvious part out loud.

“No,” Steve confirms. His eyes close again, exhaustion pulling at him. “I don’t want you to die.” 

“Well, shit, sweetheart,” Eddie gives a dry, shaky laugh of his own, “I don’t want me to die either. I’m kind of really fucking terrified actually. I mean, given what we’re up against, I’m sure it’s gruesome and horrible—and don’t tell me,” he adds quickly when Steve starts to open his mouth to comment. “But you already know, don’t you, because it’s already happened for you. I’m already dead. I’m just…I’m nothing but a ghost to you now.” 

“No, you’re real,” Steve insists. He shifts to wrap both arms around Eddie’s waist and rest his head against Eddie’s chest, right over his heart. It’s beating a bit fast now—contemplating your own mortality will do that to you—but it’s beating, it’s beating. “You’re not a ghost. You’re alive.” 

“Only for these three days,” Eddie says, quiet with the effort of keeping his voice steady. “That’s not living, that- that’s not life, it’s just an echo of it. Countless echoes, but the real me is already gone. You have to let me go.”

“Don’t say that.” Steve holds him tighter, desperately, throat closing up with panic and grief just at the thought of losing him again. He buries his face in the dingy, unwashed fabric of Eddie’s Hellfire Club shirt like an ostrich burying its head in the sand. “Stop saying that. Just let me keep you.” 

“Oh, Stevie,” Eddie whispers, and he holds him tighter too, his other hand coming up to run gentle fingers through Steve’s hair, “my Stevie, I’d let you keep me forever. But not like this. Not if I can’t keep you too, and especially not if keeping me is keeping you from living your life. I need you to live, Steve.”

“And I need you to live, Eddie,” Steve counters, mumbled petulantly into Eddie’s chest. This conversation is going in circles and Steve wishes Eddie would just let him sleep. He’d be lulled off in seconds by Eddie’s warmth and his soft hands if only he’d stop talking and making Steve want to cry.

“Steve-” 

“Stop,” he begs, voice breaking into something just short of a whine as it passes through the lump of emotion in his throat. He doesn’t want to hear this anymore. 

“Steve, look at me.” Eddie tugs lightly at Steve’s hair to get him to lift his head, pushes gently at his shoulder to peel him away from Eddie’s side. Steve tries to fall back into him, but Eddie’s hand slides from his hair and holds his chin up with firm fingers, forcing Steve to remain locked in Eddie’s intense gaze. Which would be incredibly hot if only the circumstances weren’t so devastating. 

Steve has to look at him now, no matter how tumultuous an ache it leaves in his chest. Eddie’s face is tear-stained, water tracks tracing streaks in the layer of grime left there from all the trials of the past few days, but his expression is hard-set, determination and resolve pulled tight over all the quivering emotions behind it. Steve has never seen him look so grave, so serious and sad and scared all at once. And even like this, he’s beautiful. 

“I don’t want to die. There is so much more I want to do with my life, and if I have any choice at all in the matter, I’m gonna fight like hell to keep it; I can promise you that,” Eddie tells him, words a little rough around the edges with how much he means them. “But if everything you’ve told me is true—if I really am doomed, if I’m already dead—if I can’t live, then you have to. Not just the same three days on repeat, none of this time loop bullshit, I mean really, actually live. If you do anything for me, do that. Let the sun rise, let me have my last day, and go have the best fucking life.” He speaks emphatically, urging, demanding, pleading. His unwavering eyes never leave Steve’s, even as fresh tears well up and collect in beads on his lashes. “Please. Can you promise me that?”

Steve manages a tiny, noncommittal nod and pitches forward to pull Eddie into a kiss—if nothing else just to shut him up, but also, maybe, just in case this time it might really be their last. It certainly feels like a last kiss, has all the desperation of one, all the clumsy fervor and salty taste of tears.

But Eddie recognizes it as the evasion it is and doesn’t let him get away with it. Though he indulges the distraction with equal, if not more, desperation for several long moments, he soon pushes Steve back. “Promise me,” he says again, a bit breathlessly now but still just as serious. “I need you to promise me you’ll let the sun rise. Don’t just placate me, don’t just shut me up, promise me.” 

Steve’s stubborn tears finally spill over as for the first time he finds himself truly considering it. For the first time, his denial is not as immediate; for the first time, Eddie’s words and pleas have started to sink in somewhere he can’t ignore, and he knows, somewhere deep, that he should let go, he should move on. If only the idea didn’t make his whole body shake and the monster of his grief tighten its claws around his heart.

They look at each other with haunted eyes, hold each other with trembling hands. Just a couple of scared kids—Eddie scared to die and Steve scared to live without him, both of them trying hard to have the courage to face the inevitability. But Eddie has always been the braver of them (though he’ll never quite know it), and being in a time loop has made an excellent liar out of Steve. 

“I promise,” he says, with enough softness and sincerity that Eddie lets him kiss him and curl up close again without any more argument. They whisper goodbyes to each other instead of goodnight as they lay down to sleep, Steve settling his head back on Eddie’s chest and finally drifting off wrapped blissfully in his arms. 

He wakes up on Monday, March 24th, and he tells himself it’s only for a little while longer. 

[munsonsmixtapes]

You Were Never Mine

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

After finding out that your boyfriend has been cheating on you with Eddie, you invite Eddie to breakfast to talk things over which leads to more.

cw: MDNI (18+) smut ( p in v) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) public sex, mention of cheating, mention of emotional abuse

The only sounds in the diner that can be heard is the clinking of plates as well as the chatter amongst the other customers. You lift your head from your pancakes to look at the man sitting across from you. Neither of you have touched your food, too much tension in the air between you to do so. You want to say something, to ask him why he did it, but you can’t get yourself to speak. 

Eddie already feels like a piece of shit, but he feels even more like one when he looks into your eyes. He can tell that you’ve been crying and that knot in his stomach gets even bigger. The pain almost rivals the black eye you gave him, but he thinks he deserves it which is why he wouldn’t let you help him when you realized what you had done. 

He should hate you considering the circumstances, but he just can’t. You’re so fucking nice and he can’t stand it. You asked him out for breakfast after finding out that he had been sleeping with your boyfriend and maybe he’s mad because he knew he wouldn’t do the same. He doesn’t even know why he agreed to it in the first place.

Maybe it’s just because he wants closure. To talk it out then move on with his life. He also wants to apologize to you. He doesn’t know what good it would do but he feels like it’s the right thing to do. He wants to assure you that he really didn’t know about you. He just thought he was hooking up with a guy who bought weed from him every once in a while.

“I hate him,” is all you say and the words are filled with so much bitterness, so much pain that it feels palpable. Eddie doesn’t know what to respond or if he even should. You have every right to hate Henry and he’d never tell you that your feelings are invalid. Especially right now. 

“Me too,” Eddie responds. And Eddie does hate Henry. Mostly for what he did to you. That’s all Eddie’s cared about since the two of you found out the truth last night. He didn’t think anything of Henry wanting to keep the whole thing a secret because he’s used to that. Nobody wants people to know that they’re hooking up with Eddie “the freak” Munson. Nobody’s ever been hurt by that besides him, so seeing your tear stained cheeks is hard for him to take in. 

He can’t imagine how you feel. Years gone just because of a stupid mistake that wasn’t even yours. And you’re here blaming yourself for Henry’s actions. Last night after he kicked Henry out, he invited you to stay for a drink and you accepted. After a few beers, you loosened up a bit, going on and on about how you should have seen it coming, should have loved him more, put in more effort. 

The whole thing made Eddie sick. You got cheated on and you’re the one who feels guilty? How fucked up is that? He tried to tell you that it wasn’t your fault but you wouldn’t listen. And why would you believe him? You don’t know him and quite frankly, you don’t want to. 

Or maybe you do. You don’t even really know why you invited him to breakfast. Maybe it’s because you feel bad that he got dragged into this whole mess because Henry can’t seem to keep his dick in his pants. 

“I’m sorry,” you tell him and his eyebrows knit together in confusion. 

“You’re what?” He asks, actually offended by your apology. 

“I’m sorry.” You repeat the words with more confidence because you are sorry. You know about his reputation around town but you seem to be the only person who’s gotten close enough to know it’s not true. He’s sweet and kind and you wish more people could see that. That’s he’s not the scary guy everyone thinks he is.

“Why are you sorry? You walked in on your boyfriend and I having sex and you’re sorry?”

“I just feel bad that he did this to you.” You have a pained look on your face and this time, it’s for him. He doesn’t know why, but that almost makes him want to cry. No one besides his uncle has ever cared for him like this so he’s not entirely sure how to feel. 

“Why should I care? We were just using each other for our bodies, but he was your boyfriend. So really, I should be apologizing to you. Which, I am sorry.” Eddie would never admit how hurt he truly is. That would require being vulnerable and he refuses to do that. He just can’t get himself to open up about his true feelings and he’s especially not going to do that now.

“You didn’t know.” You’re saying the words as if you’re defending him and Eddie’s getting really tired of you being so nice. If you were any other woman, you would have treated him like shit, called him all the names in the book. But you didn’t. You haven’t. 

“I’m still sorry. I feel awful, especially since you found out…that way.” He can still hear your screams, the look of horror on your face as tears pour down your cheeks. That image will haunt his dreams forever, he’s sure of it. 

“It’s okay,” you shrugged. Your shoulders slump as you sit there, hands underneath your thighs and Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone look so pathetic. He wouldn’t wish this on anyone. Especially not you. You’re so sweet and nice and he can’t see why anyone would want to hurt you. It’d be like hurting a puppy. 

“It’s not okay,” Eddie says, anger rising in his chest. He’s not even angry at you, he’s angry for you. Because you don’t seem to be mad enough for his liking. He wanted to see you yell at Henry, to hit him, to take out all your anger on him like people usually do when they catch their partner in that kind of situation. He just hates that your bottling it all up. It’s only a matter of time before you explode. 

“That asshole hurt you. But I guess that just shows how much better you are than me because I would have beat his ass. I should’ve. I can’t believe he tried to blame you, y/n. This isn’t your fault. At all. He knows he fucked up but he doesn’t want to accept the blame.” 

“You think I don’t know that?” You ask, raising your voice and it catches Eddie completely off guard. “He did it constantly and I let him because I thought that was the kind of love I deserved. I know now that I deserve better.” You say the last part more quietly, your gaze lowering to the table. And just when Eddie thought his heart couldn’t break any more. 

Silence settles between the two of you and Eddie pays the check despite your argument and when you both end up in the parking lot, he doesn’t want to leave you. He wants to pull you in his arms and never let go. He wants to protect you, to make sure that you never get hurt again. He’s not sure he could handle it if you did.

He doesn’t know why, but he invites you to sit in his van. Maybe it’s because that’s where he feels the most comfort so he’s hoping you’ll feel that way too. You seem surprised when he opens the passenger door for you and that tells him everything he needs to know about Henry. If he didn’t open doors for you then what other stuff did he not do for you that you clearly deserved? Bring you flowers? Now he kind of wants to buy you some just to see your pretty smile. 

The van is quiet besides the metal music that’s playing at a low volume on the radio as the two of you sit in silence, neither of you sure what you should say. You don’t know why he invited you to sit with him but you’re grateful when rain begins to pour down, hitting the vehicle rather loudly. Eddie would never tell you that’s actually grateful so he has an excuse for you to stay.

He hates that he’s now thinking about how well he’d treat you. How he’d never even think about cheating on you if you gave him a chance. He doesn’t even know why he’s thinking about it because he knows you wouldn’t. No one ever does. He’s just someone that they want to see between the sheets then turn right around and whisper the meanest things behind his back. 

Eddie knows that you would never be so cruel, but he still can’t get himself to make a move no matter how pretty you look sitting in his passenger seat. You just broke up with your boyfriend anyway and he can still see the bandage over your heart so maybe getting close to you in that way isn’t the best idea. 

So why are you scooting closer? Why is your thigh pressing against his as you lean your head on his shoulder? His arms hesitantly wrap around you which gives you room to fully lean into him and without thinking too much about, his hand reaches up to scratch the back of your head gently. It’s something he loves being done to him so he’s hoping that it brings you the same comfort. 

You stay like that for a minute and when you lean back up, his face is so close to yours. You watch his eyes widen as he gulps, his lips parting. His ips that you now so desperately want to kiss. He seems to be thinking the same thing as he leans forward, his eyes flicking to your own lips. 

He brings his hand up to rest on the back of your neck as he pulls you close as your hands press against his chest, the two of you slowly leaning in until his lips finally slot between yours. It’s gentle and sweet but awkward. It’s almost like neither of you have kissed anyone before and the awkwardness of it just makes you both giggle, especially when you acknowledge how weird the whole thing really is. 

But that doesn’t seem to stop either of you as you lean in again, more hungry this time as his hands move up into your hair and his shirt is bunched in your fist as his tongue slips into your mouth. You let out a moan and you’re not sure how you ended up there, but no you’re straddling his lap as he bunches up your dress around your waist as his hands press against your bare back. 

You begin to grind against his crotch and he lets out a moan of his own as he tries his best to buck his hips against yours. He doesn’t know when you ditched your cardigan but it’s now in the passenger seat and he’s kissing the now exposed skin of your shoulder as you continue to grind on him. 

“I need you,” you whine into his mouth when he reconnects your lips and hearing you be so needy for him is making him unbelievably hard. 

“I’m yours,” he breaths and you immediately move to pull down his sweat pants and underwear. You then reach down and pull the lever to lean the seat back, letting out a loud laugh at how it jerks back, causing you to fall forward on top of him. Eddie’s convinced that hearing your pretty has added ten years to his life. 

You kiss him again and gasp when his fingers push your panties to the side, pushing inside and you let out a sound that’s so hot that he’s trying to commit to memory so he can replay it in his head over and over. He pumps in and out, moving slowly, trying to figure out what you like and when you grab hold of his hand and push it farther, he gets the hint. He moves fast and hard, looking up just in time to see you throw your head back, another pretty moan escaping your lips. 

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he says softly. “Sound so pretty. Wanna make some more noises for me?” 

“Please,” you beg and he keeps his eyes on you, wondering how you’ll react when he gets inside you considering that just his fingers are already making you crazy. He pumps even harder and you grab onto his shoulders, squeezing them tightly as you’re already orgasming and it makes you realize how selfish Henry really was in bed.

As Eddie gives you time to catch your breath, you realize how crazy this whole thing really is. How many people end up sleeping with the person their partner cheated with? And how many times does it feel even better than it did with their partner? 

When he asks you what you like and you almost want to cry at how sweet he’s being, how he actually wants to make you feel good. You can’t believe that this is the same man who people are convinced is a vessel for the devil. 

“Can we go slow?” You ask and Eddie smiles, making your heart melt. 

“We can do whatever you want, sweetheart,” he replies as his hands move up and down your hips as his hands slide up your dress to help you remove your panties before you toss them onto your cardigan. 

Once he gets inside, you begin to ride him, slowly moving up and down as your dress comes off to reveal your bare chest that Eddie so desperately wants to get his mouth on. He can’t help but watch your tits bounce as your pace picks up just slightly, his hands resting on your waist as he guides you while bucking his hips against yours. 

The windows are progressively fogging up as the rain continues to hit the roof, but your moans and panting seem to down out the sound. Eddie let his eyes flutter closed even though he knows he could watch you for hours. He can’t believe that Henry actually told you to your face that he was only fucking Eddie because he needed what you couldn’t give him. 

This is easily the best sex he’s ever had and he doesn’t know how he’s going to move on after this. He wonders if he’d be going too far if he asked you to come to his place. He wants to explore all the ways he can bring you pleasure, to show you how lucky he feels to have such a beautiful woman in his bed. 

“Oh my god,” you whine and Eddie knows what’s approaching. He can see it as he gets fully seated inside you, watching you cry on his cock as you take all of him as another orgasm courses through you, his name falling from your lips this time. 

“Eddie,” you practically scream and he's not that far behind you, reaching his own peak, pulling out in just the knick of time as he leaks out all over the both of you. 

“Guess this means we’ll both have to shower,” you tell him and he can’t help but smile widely. 

“Guess it does,” he nods and reaches into his glove box for some napkins to attempt to clean the both of you up as best as he can before putting your dress back on before helping you back into your seat. He then pulls up his pants and puts the car in drive before taking you to his apartment so you both can get cleaned up amongst other things. 

As you sit in Eddie’s passenger seat, coming down from the best orgasm of your life, you can’t believe that you just slept with the guy your ex boyfriend cheated on you with. And you can’t believe even more that you’re about to do it again. 

Eddie’s hand lands on your thigh and he gives us a squeeze as he turns out of the diner parking lot, both of you actually thanking Henry as fucked up as it is, because it led you to each other. And both of you couldn’t be more grateful for that. 

[musicalnobody]

Little Secret Ch. 1

General Shepard's Daughter X Simon "Ghost" Riley ⋆ Call of Duty ⋆ MDNI ⋆ 9.3k words ⋆ 18+, explicit ⋆ Read the tags ⋆

⋆ AO3 link ⋆

Summary: After finding out about Shepherds betrayal, Ghost is sent to raid his residence. What he finds there is too good to resist.

Tags: Rape/noncon, Kidnapping, Drugging (brief, no drugged sex), the dove is struggling, pov second person, daddy issues, daddy kink, reader is shepherd's daughter, unsafe sex, age difference (Ghost is late 30's, reader just turned 18 prior to the story), manhandling, restraints, handcuffs, crying, dacryphilia, breathplay, pet names, squirting, creampie, deepthroating, rough oral sex, no use of y/n, spit as lube, size difference, cunnilingus

A/N: First piece on tumblr! I haven't been on this site since like sophomore year of highschool, so I'm a tad nervous! I have only played a little bit of call of duty so if there's any inaccuracies don't come for me. This fic does handle a couple (to say the least) dark topics so please tread carefully!

Ghost hadn’t wanted to go on this mission, let alone be playing ISpy in the now deceased General Shepherd’s home, a large 3-story, 6-bedroom house that sat in the middle of multiple acres of forest. It was a solo mission, said that it was just meant to make sure he hadn’t left anything at his personal residence that could’ve provided extra intel. When Ghost asked, Price didn’t even think twice, remarking that Ghost was perfect for the job before handing Ghost the papers and sending him on his way. He was excited at first. Free access to the General’s residence to comb through his personal belongings? It soothed his kleptomaniac tendencies. But then Soap had to go run his mouth, the careless bastard making one too many jokes on the way that didn’t land correctly. So, there he was, stomping through the forest as a steady downpour reminded him that his gear wasn’t entirely waterproof.

When Ghost arrived, he was in a worse mood than when he started. He made sure to take a stop into Shepherd’s personal quarters to change out his underclothing for something a bit drier. The pants were a tight fit, having found a slightly bigger size at the very bottom of his drawers. The black undershirt shirt gripped every curve and crevice of his body. As he was putting his vest back on, he heard a noise from the floor below him. He quickly grabbed his gun and went to make his way down the stairs quietly. When he didn’t find anything, he went to find another room he could rummage his way through, finally settling on what looked like his main office. He hadn’t even meant to look at her, but she was too clumsy, stepping on a floorboard that creaked loud enough for Ghost to hear.

She was a doll, a tiny little thing with big, bright eyes and puffy lips that contrasted her dark hair. He tried taking his eyes off her, all pink and frills, but you just begged to be looked at. Your Mary Janes were perfectly polished, the ruffles of your socks covering the buckles, your dress was short, something he wanted to fix, a pink gingham that looked so tearable it might as well have been a crime his hands weren’t on it at the current moment.

Your hair topped it off, two pigtails sitting prettily on your shoulders, white ribbons holding them in place. He had to suppress a groan. You see, Ghost was nothing short of a pervert. The way you were carelessly wandering around the large house, unaware of the other soul that occupied it. He creeped around the office, waiting till you entered the next hallway before slinking out from the doorway. He needed to figure out who you were. Why you were here. So, he chased. Down the hallway, up the stairs, and down another long and empty hallway. He used the shadows to aid him, years of military training finally paying off.

There was always the option to go forward with normal military procedures, but Ghost couldn’t handle himself. He pulled out the vial and the small rag tucked in his vest, saved for special emergencies, usually someone who wasn’t cooperating. But who’s to say how you would react? After all, you were occupying Shepherd’s residence, you could be volatile. At least, that’s what Ghost told himself as he crept up behind you, rag ready in his right hand. Attack. Wrapping his left arm around your waist, there was barely time for you to let out the cutest little scream Ghost had ever heard before there was a rag in front of your nose and your vision was rapidly fading to black.

Ghost grabbed her body, cradling it as he gently opened the door that he assumed led to your room. It was as if a tornado of pink had swept through the room and left frills and lace in its wake, but as he scanned the room, he noticed something. A dingy cage in the corner of the room, large enough to fit your body and a pillow. Something had gone down here, and he was determined to figure out what, but not before utilizing that gear that had already been given to him. Ghost never claimed to be a morally correct human being, in fact, he’d claim quite the opposite, especially as he watched your sleeping body bend perfectly into a fetal position within the cage, tucked in with a light blanket. As he shut the door to the small cage, he smirked to himself, now he could pay attention to more important things: Ripping your room apart for information.

He started with your numerous bookshelves, grabbing a diary and throwing it on the bed to read later. Checking under the bed, he found there to be nothing but stuffed animals and candy wrappers, how cute, he thought to himself. He looked through your vanity, finding various skin care and make up items, as well as jewelry, many adorned with the letter S. But as he moved to your desk, he knew had found exactly what he was looking for. Right there, on the top left of the first paper occupying the desk, Shepherd. His precious daughter.

He had kept you here all along, hiding you from the outside world. Ghost grinned, he could see why Shepherd would keep you here, too innocent to introduce to the cruel world. After all, the General’s life was full of danger that could’ve fallen to her as well. He stepped back and went to go sit on the edge of the bed, grabbing the diary sitting in the middle. Breaking the lock, he started reading the first page.

“Dear Diary, Dad got me this diary for my 18th birthday, said that he was going to start to go on longer trips and wanted me to be able to catch him up on what’s happened.” There was a high chance that you had gone completely untouched your whole life, even a chance that you’ve never seen another male figure except for your father in your 18 years of life. He could almost burst at the number of possibilities that flooded into his head.

Ghost didn’t make it that far before he heard your small whimpers infiltrate his ears. He looked down at his feet and there you were, tossing and turning as the tranquilizer wore off.

“Rise and shine, princess.” Ghost growled as he kicked the cage doors.

⋆♱✮♱⋆

            Your head was pounding, thoughts begrudgingly swimming around trying to collect themselves. You heard a voice telling you to wake a up. A deep voice, one that traveled through your whole body, it was too deep to be father’s voice. You tried to stretch out your arms, the weight of your head enough to cause your arm to fall asleep, but as you go to extend it you feel the dull pain of your hand hitting the cage walls.

“No…” you whimpered “No no no no no,” you couldn’t be in the cage again, you didn’t do anything wrong, you hadn’t seen father in weeks. You hear another chuckle above you and force your eyes open. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the sudden light before you register the sight in front of you.

A man taller than your father stood menacingly over the cage. Large combat boots were the first thing your eyes fully registered. Caked in mud and larger than your head, your eyes traveled upwards till you saw the first glimpse of a color that wasn’t black. You yelped, your eyes filling with tears when you realized who was standing above you. You didn’t have any idea who he was, but you had seen him before. You saw him in papers that you overlooked your father reading and maps with red strings leading to his picture. You knew he was dangerous. “Don’t hurt me please, please I’ll do anything!” You pleaded.

“You should be careful promising things like that” he chuckled as he knelt down.  You scramble away from the cage door on all fours, pressing yourself against the back of the cage as far away as possible. “Awe come on angel, don’t be afraid” he cooed menacingly, moving to unlatch the lock “I won’t hurt you.” The way he was saying it almost made you let your guard down, but then the door was swinging open, and he was grabbing your ankle. You let out a cry and started kicking, but the second he felt your foot reel back so you could make impact his grip tightened.

“Unless you struggle.”

Suddenly, Ghost grabbed both of your ankles and yanked you out of the cage, cradling your head on the way out so you didn’t hit your head. You thrashed, not getting the hint. Ghost rolled his eyes, prepared for this sort of reaction from Shepherd’s brat. He quickly sat down and wrapped his arm around her waist once more, securing his other hand in your hair as he pulled you against his chest. “Stop. Struggling. Make this easy on yourself.” You knew something was wrong. Something had to have gone wrong on fathers last mission that had put you in this predicament. As you sat in his lap, struggling, you were throwing every childish insult at him, clearly not having learned many crass words in your time of confinement. Ghost could almost laugh at how easily he was able to keep you from getting away but couldn’t help but start to stir when you started moving your hips atop his groin. “Stop” he growled lowly, and his tone sent a shiver down your spine. His grip on your hair tightened and you cried out.

“Stop, don’t hurt me! Please!” tears were streaming down your pretty little face, and Ghost finally had the heart to let go of the tight grip on your hair.

“Oh you have no idea the amount of hurt I could cause you”

You frantically looked around the room, seeing your room now ripped apart, and mortifyingly, your diary sitting on the bed. Ghost followed your widened eyes and laughed when he saw the object of your fear. “You had no right to look through that!” You screeched, the waterworks starting back up again, this time in embarrassment. Now Ghost was intrigued, he had only made it through about a dozen entries

“Awe, what possibly could you have written in here that’s so scary? You know what, I think we should look through it together.” He said, and you can see him smile through his balaclava. Your heart might as well have stopped in fear, remembering exactly what’s contained in the small pink book. You realize quickly that your hands are still free and start struggling to pummel this large man in the face with your fists. Ghost snorts, easily dodging your fists and reaching into his pocket, out he pulls a nice set of silver handcuffs. Your tears, which you had somehow gotten to stop, start welling up in your eyes for a second time as Ghost seals your fate, wrangling your arms behind your back and clicking the handcuffs into place. He hoists you into the air, tossing you onto the bed, and grabs your diary. Ghost flips to the page he left off on, uninterested in your mundane retellings of the food you had ate and your studies, before pulling you once again, onto his lap.

“Are you going to tell me what this little diary contains before I continue?” he pries, and you shake your head while scowling at him

“It’s none of your business you brute!” Ghost huffs, before beginning to read your entry aloud

“Dear diary, things have been getting real lonely around the house. The maids have stopped coming around as much, I’ve heard murmurs among them that they haven’t received their payment for the week. I decided to go into father’s office to see if there was any explanation, but all I found were files on some scary men he’s after.” You wiggle again,

“that’s enough, that’s enough! You’ve read enough!” You plead, Ghost just laughs and tightens his grip on you before continuing

“I heard the maids gossiping about me, about how sad it is that the only people I’ve interacted with is them. How sad it is that someone like me hasn’t had a romantic experience yet. Of course, I don’t care or anything, father has his reasons. But since he’s been gone for so long it’s given me time to… explore.” Ghost cocks his eyebrow as he looks down at you, your face is beet red and you’re shaking like a leaf “I found one of his magazines in his office, but everything I read about didn’t help, it still just felt weird. I think I’m broken, I wish I could be one of these girls…” Ghost trails off as he finishes the entry before his gruff voice cuts through the silence

“Time to explore, huh?” The tears that had been threatening to fall finally gave way as you started bawling

“Please don’t tell father, I didn’t do anything, I promise!” Ghost just laughs

“Didn’t do anything? These entries don’t show you didn’t do anything little girl.” You try and curl in on yourself, as much as you can with your hands behind your back. He grabs your jaw forcing you to look at him “But don’t you worry, your father has been, taken care of, to say the least” Ghost says ominously, his whole body pounding with need, with a hunger. Fresh meat. Just sitting in his lap, defenseless. A pang of fear stroke through your heart, your body shaking as you realized just how much danger you were actually in. He let your jaw go, returning his gaze to the diary, eyes scanning the next couple entries. Descriptions of your first time exploring your body, only knowing how because of that mistaken find, how you desperately humped your pillows with restless want, and how you’ve asked the maids for romance novels. Ghost closed the journal, he had seen enough.

“Dirty, dirty girl” he growled, and suddenly your journal was thrown to the side and his hand landed on your thigh.

You whimpered, shutting your legs tightly to try to prevent his hand from travelling further. It was no use. His other hand moved from your waist to your other knee as he wretched your legs apart. God your reaction was pathetic, Ghost thought, watching as you cried out and squeezed your eyes shut. “Come on, don’t you want this” he drawled “I’ll give you what you’ve been dreaming about, sweetheart.” Your thoughts are racing a mile a minute, you don’t know what to do, the only thing you can do is try to get off his lap. This seems to excite him more, actively hearing him try to calm his breath down. You start to whimper, muttering stop between shaky breaths. Your attempts had officially failed, as your mutters seemed to snap the remaining control Ghost had, his hands digging into your thighs roughly. “I’m going to do whatever I want with you, and it’s within your best interest to not put up a fight.” His voice was as rough as the grip on your thighs, and as one hand kept your thigh open, the other started to trail closer to the cloth covering what Ghost really wanted.

“I don’t have anything you want!” You cried, panting as his fingers finally rested on the fabric keeping him from his prize.

“Oh but you do, you have something very special for me to take.” And finally, it really clicked in your head.

“No… No no no, you can’t!” you screamed, fighting the handcuffs keeping you from fighting back. Ghost had enough with your incessant struggling, ripping his hands away from between your thighs, they returned under your arms as he lifted you to throw you onto the center of the bed. The way he was able to maneuver you was dizzying, lifting you as if you were nothing. You went to scoot to the top of the bed, hoping the fluffy texture of your pillows would be enough to calm you down, you faintly heard Ghost snicker. Watching his hulking figure fully get onto the bed and crawl to the middle of it, grabbing your ankle. He pulled roughly and watched in amusement as you yelped in surprise, your head hitting the pillows. You shut your eyes tight, wanting to pinch yourself to escape this nightmare. Ghost groaned as he finally gave himself some well needed attention by rubbing his bulge through his pants, relishing in your fear.

“I can see why your father kept you locked away from the outside world, you’d never make it out there” he cooed, taking in the way your shaking had caused the strap of your little pink dress to fall off your shoulder. Your pigtails had been slightly messed up from the way he had grasped your hair earlier. Your face was wet with tears and your lips were red and puffy from your nervous biting. He needed those lips on his cock, needed your eyes gazing up at him as he wrecked your throat. “Get on your knees.” He commanded, and you opened your eyes to see him in front of you on his knees, still managing to tower over you. You almost scoffed at him, how the hell were you supposed to do that with your hands behind your back. It was like he could sense your attitude as he grabbed both of your pigtails and yanked you forward, forcing you to rearrange yourself to get to your knees. You could see him smile under his balaclava, but his cold blue eyes stared at you with a look of feigned care. “Good girl” he cooed. He released his hold on your hair, letting you fall face first into your covers as he went to unbutton his pants, you turn your neck, trying to see what the large man was doing now. As the sound of a zipper hit your ears, your blood ran cold.

“I have an idea, little one” Ghost said, fake saccharine dripping off his words, everything he said made you feel like you were walking on the edge. Unbeknownst to you, Ghost was pulling a bandana sized piece of fabric out of one of his vest pockets. He used one hand to yank you up again “Keep yourself up” he growled as he folded the fabric. Your brain couldn’t comprehend what was happening until you registered his heated stare and his hands moving to move this piece of fabric towards you.

What was going on, what was he doing? But then it clicked, too late. As you started shaking your head from side to side, Ghost grabbed your chin harshly.

“Stay still, or you won’t like the results” and suddenly the tears were pouring down your face again.

“Please don’t do this, I hate this part, I don’t want to go back there!” Ghost couldn’t help but smirk at your begging, the puzzle pieces of your past slowly falling into place.

“Awe, did your dear old father do this? Take your sight before putting you in that little cage. Letting you sit there and rot?” He questioned, knowing he hit the nail on the head, your fright in the cage earlier helping him gather this conclusion. Your sobs only got louder and more frantic, believing that’s exactly what this man was going to do to you as well.

If Ghost was a better man, he would’ve reconsidered his sick idea. But Ghost wasn’t a good man, evident by the way he yanked the fabric tight around your eyes.

A knot tight enough that only nimble hands would be able to pull it apart, you were close to hysterical.

“Please,” you blubbered “don’t put me back there, I’ll be good!” it was at this confession that Ghost groaned, a groan resonating from deep in the back of his throat. He had you right in the palm of his hands, so malleable that Ghost couldn’t bear waiting any longer.

“Alright, alright” he huffed “I won’t put you back in that stupid cage.” At this your sobs quieted, but only a bit, the vast unknown behind the blindfold still making you vulnerable. “What do you say?” He sneered, patting your cheek lightly.

“Thank you! Thank you, thank yo—“ he cut you off

“Thank you, what?” He growled. You racked your head for what he could possibly mean, you had no idea who this man was, no inkling of a name. Your thoughts were suddenly cut off with a slap to your cheek, the pain causing you to yelp out

“Daddy!”

Time stood still. For the first time that night, Ghost couldn’t breathe. “What was that doll?” He managed to grunt out.

Your brain was so fuzzy from the slap, words were just pouring out of your mouth, anything to try and please the man in front of you “Thank you daddy, thank you” and Ghost simply couldn’t stop the way his hand shot to yank down his boxers, releasing his throbbing erection. He couldn’t be blamed for the way he grabbed your pigtails in his hands and yanked you forward. You cried out at the strain, the lack of support without your arms making this a particularly uncomfortable situation. Suddenly, there was something fleshy prodding against your mouth, you whimpered. What did he want you to do? What was this? Ghost looked down at the young girl in front of him, the tip of his cock was inflamed, he needed relief.

“Come on, sweetheart. Suck.” He growled. I’m going to tear her apart. Your brain had to be short circuiting. Nothing in your books had described anything like this, not even close. Heated make out sessions and light touching were the furthest her books went. What did he even want you to do? He grabbed your chin, squeezing your lips apart before thrusting his hips forward. You were suddenly overwhelmed by the salty, musky taste of his flesh, your mouth forced open to accommodate his width. He had only pressed in the tip, and you were already struggling, trying to shake your head and force him out of your mouth, but his grip on your pigtails returned as he shoved another inch in your mouth. “Come on, doll. You can do it.” The praise made your mind spin as your mouth was opened wider than it ever had before. You tried to follow what he told you to do and suck on the member in your mouth, you hear a low groan above you, a small indicator to keep it up.

“You sure you’re a virgin, sweetheart? Cause you’re taking it like a slut.” It was at this point that he yanked your head forward onto his cock, hitting the back of your throat.

You sputtered, and the tears really started falling, first soaking the fabric and then rolling down your face. Ghost couldn’t help but laugh at the pathetic display in front of him, letting go of one pigtail to faintly trace his hand along the size of your face. You were trying to shake your head again, trying to breathe, when Ghost finally let up. Just to shove you right back down. You cried, and cried, but the more you showed your distress, the rougher his thrusts became. You were desperately trying to suck air in through your nose and the rare times when he would pull all the way out. Then, when you were finally starting to get the hang of it, Ghost kept one hand on your pigtail and moved the other to the back of your head and forced you to the base of his cock. The shock was immediate, your body trying to reject him and your gag reflex kicking in. Ghost growled, you could hear how his breathing had picked up, but that was the last thing you were focusing on as you were desperately trying to break free from his grasp. Drool was pooling around the sides of your mouth, sweat had your hair sticking to your forehead, as you desperately tried to breathe, Ghost making it increasingly harder to. “Come on baby, you don’t need air that badly, you can just be a braindead whore.” His words faintly registered as your head increasingly felt fuzzier. You could feel yourself giving up the fight, letting him force you to deepthroat him.

“Finally,” he groaned “Let yourself be used like a little fleshlight.” You felt filthy, mixes of fluids dripping onto your chest. Ghost’s hips stuttered as he threw his head back, a low moan coming out of the back of his throat as once again he shoved your head to the very base. You still weren’t prepared, and this time, it was accompanied by a salty liquid hitting the back of your throat. He was forcing you to swallow this liquid that you had no knowledge of, not aware of what it was at all. Ghost could hear your cries, your gurgles as he came down your throat. It only got him off more. Finally, Ghost ripped his cock out of your mouth, forcing your mouth open to inspect it, making sure you had swallowed all of his cum.

“W-What was that, what did I just swallow?!” You cried, letting your head fall to his thigh.

“Oh, relax my sweet angel, you’ll be just fine.” It hadn’t even passed through his mind that you wouldn’t have any idea what cum was, and the very thought that you didn’t was enough to get him stirring again. You were desperately trying to get your body to calm down, finally able to breathe. You still couldn’t see, and Ghost had no intention of letting you anytime soon. Ghost picked up his half hard member and stoked it a couple times to the image of you in front of him. You had made an absolute mess on your covers, a large puddle of spit and tears evident below you.

“What a messy baby.” He laughed, tilting your face up so you could “look” at him. He looked at you again and realized that he wanted you on your back, now. He leaned down to your ear,

“Do you think you can follow Daddy’s orders? He whispered, the grumble in his accent making you shiver. You slowly nod your head, scared for what would happen if you disobeyed his actions. “Lay on your back.” He demanded. You suddenly had a choice, try and turn around and flop like a fish, or fall back and hope you didn’t hit your head. Before you could choose, Ghost was choosing for you, picking you up once again below the arms and throwing you onto your back. Your head hit the pillows, and you let out a small cry of surprise. “Not moving fast enough, princess” your head was spinning with all these pet names, each one leaving you with a different feeling.

“You’re wearing too much clothing doll, I think we should change that.” He observed, letting his hand run up your thigh again.

“No, no, I did what you wanted, I don’t want you to see me naked!” you wept, trying once again to close your legs.

“Oh, come on, little one, haven’t you learned by now?” His voice reached your ears as you suddenly hear him unsheathe a knife from its holster. You suddenly feel what you assume is the back of the knife along the outside skin of your thigh, and you bite your tongue to stop the tears from falling again, settling to whimper instead.

“Daddy, please, please don’t hurt me!” Ghost sits back, sets his knife down, and pretends to ponder even though you can’t see him.

“Hmm, I think I know just what to do with you.” You lay there hoping that means you’ll be released from these handcuffs, your hands uncomfortably sitting behind your back, but he opens your legs again instead. Ghost grabs his knife again, lifting your dress to reveal your panties. White cotton with pink rabbits decorating the fabric, and a cute little pink bow in the center, Ghost almost lost it right there. How adorable.

He peels the fabric away from your skin, he knows he could do this the easy way, but fuck, the power he held over you was enough to make him feral. He held a knife up into the fabric and pushed, the fabric giving way under the sharp knife. You cried out, not expecting your underwear to be violated in such a way. He continued to expertly cut the fabric off your body, before disposing of the ruined cotton off the side of the bed. This time, the tears had no choice but to fall, and Ghost realized after the first sniffle. “Awe sweetheart, don’t you worry, I won’t cut you unless you disobey me.” Yeah, because that was supposed to make you feel better. You mewled pathetically, trying to save yourself one last time

 “Please! Just don’t cut up this dress, if you uncuff me I’ll take it off for you and then you can put the cuffs right back on. Daddy please, please!” You rushed, trying to save one of your favorite garments. Ghost tutted at your display of fear, genuinely thinking your offer through.

“Mm, fine.” He grabbed the key from another pocket in his vest, unlocking your cuffs and grabbing them, keeping them close to him. “Put on a show, babydoll.” He leaned back, hoping that he had shown you enough to scare you out of disobeying.

You really wanted to run, you should’ve. But instead, your body started moving, hips swaying side to side as your hands went to clumsily fumble for the zipper. Ghost just sat back and watched you struggle, watching as you finally got your hands on the small piece of metal. Slowly pulling it down, he watched as you slid the lace straps of your pink gingham dress down your arms. Everything you did was with such sensualness that Ghost couldn’t help but feel proud of the display in front of him.

“Good job baby girl, now take it off for me.” And with that you slid the dress down to your waist, over your hips, and suddenly Ghost was growling low. His hand crept closer to the cuffs again, and he pounced. Just as your dress reached the crease of your knees, Ghost ripped your hands away from the dress and joined them above your head. The show obviously stunned you, causing you to cry out immediately, your heart starting to race.

“No, I thought I was doing good!” You pleaded, but Ghost just laughed.  “Oh you’re doing great sweetheart, but you look so much better defenseless.” His words laced around your heart, squeezing tightly as you started shaking from the cool breeze. You were exposed, your dress bunched at your knees, your hands held above your head, and your simple white bra covered your tits, something Ghost wanted to change. But first, he wanted you back in those handcuffs. He grabbed them from his pocket and wrapped them around your wrists, tighter this time just to see you squirm.

“It hurts,” you sniffled, the words barely leaving your mouth before a loud smack was heard resonating throughout the room. He had smacked you.

“That, is hurt, princess.” He sneered, watching as your head dropped in front of you, chin hitting your chest. You were truly in the hands of a bad man. Tears starting to dampen the fabric again, snot running down your nose. Ghost let your hands fall in front of you this time before pushing you backwards onto the bed. Once you landed on your back, Ghost took the opportunity to take off the dress and throw it into the corner of the room near your closet. “I’m going to devour you.” He growled as he spread your legs. If it weren’t for the fact that your head was still pounding from the last time he smacked you, you probably would have resisted the motion, but you couldn’t find it in you. You felt his hand snake behind your back as he expertly took off your bra with one hand, his skilled hand taking off your bra and roughly palming one of your breasts in his hand. Your tits weren’t small by any sense of the word, yet Ghost was able to almost cover an entire breast with one hand, something that reminded you of his sheer size.

“You have such perfect tits for me to play with,” he growled as he leaned down in front of you, one hand still palming your breast. Ghost shoved his mask up to his nose and suddenly, you could feel his hot breath inches away from your cunt, you didn’t know he meant devour literally. But your theory was confirmed as you felt the long stripe of Ghost’s tongue from the bottom of your slit to the top of your mound. You cried out at this, not knowing what to do at the new surge of pleasure that radiated through your body.

“What are you doing, what are you doing?!” You cried, you knew this was wrong, nobody was supposed to do this.

“Come on little girl, just let yourself experience this.” His voice almost like the devil on your shoulder, urging you to let him keep going.

“I don’t want you to see me like this, I don’t want anyone touching there!” The way you didn’t exactly know how to describe it was driving him nuts, leaving most thoughts behind he decided to bark out

“Quiet, before I shut you up in a different way.” The threat hung in the air as you whimpered pathetically. Ghost took this as his cue to continue his attack on your cunt. Despite your cries and protests, you were wet, deviously so. Ghost couldn’t get enough of the divine nectar that was gracing his tongue as he dove into you at a rabid pace. Shoving his tongue as far as he could into your hole, the intrusion foreign to you.

“Oh my God! D-Daddy!” You screamed, you didn’t know what to do. You had never felt so much overwhelm in your life. Your walls were clenching around his tongue, and just that was enough for his erection to make itself very noticeable. The only stimulation being the small rubs against the covers when he lapped at you just right, his cock was once again flushed. The tip dripping precum. But Ghost had a mission. Your cries of “stop!” and “help!” were mixed in with broken moans, that’s how he knew he was getting closer to his goal.

As he shoved his face further into your pussy, lapping at your spongy walls, you were squirming and crying, hands grasping at the top of his balaclava trying to get him to stop. “I can’t take it!” That was what he wanted to hear. Switch. His tongue trailed up to your clit, and suddenly your body was ignited with a fire that you hadn’t been feeling before. Your screams grew louder and higher as you begged him to stop. “Daddy I can’t take this, somethings happening!” It dawned on him that you had definitely never had an orgasm before, and you could feel the wide grin that spread on his face as he continued his assault.

“Come on baby girl,” he growled out, voice muffled between your thighs. His lips wrapped around your clit, and he sucked, hard, and suddenly your vision was going white. You were seeing stars. Ghost had to hold your legs in place as you screamed “Daddy!” so loud that he was glad this was your own residence.

“You make so much noise, princess. So greedy” He tutted. Tapping on your clit with his finger.

The stimulation was almost too much, lighting a spark again. Ghost rose from his hands and leaned back on his knees, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “Such a delicious meal though, you did so good.” He cooed, and you preened with the praise, back arching and a small smile coming across your face, quickly overtaken by a look of fear again when you felt Ghost’s hands travel from your thigh to your core.

“What are you doing?” You said in a panic, “I’m sensitive!” you cried out, truly believing that would be enough to deter him. Ghost laughed, shocked that you hadn’t learned.

“No no, you owe me something baby girl,” And with that both of his hands were roughly grabbing and kneading your chest, pulling and pinching at your nipples as you mewled and moaned in abandon. He kept his left hand on your breast as he used his other hand to guide his cock to your pulsing entrance.

“What!” You shrieked. “What are you doing, I’ve had enough!” But Ghost wasn’t having it. Removing his hand from your breast with one last rough pinch to your nipple, he replaced it over your mouth to stifle your shrieking.

“Oh be quiet. I’ll take great pleasure in taking you.” You were already pushing against him, but still, the little lubrication you did have allowed the very tip to slip in with a “pop!” It was then that Ghost removed his hand from your mouth, and you screamed.

“Help, help, Daddy!” you cried. Tears readily streaming down your face. Ghost looked down and almost came on the spot, blood. Just a little bit, from the lack of prep. It was at this point that he didn’t want you blindfolded anymore. He wanted you to see how much he was wrecking your body. He wretched the tip out and you sighed in relief before Ghost’s hand snuck behind your head. Your breath hitched. Was he finally doing what you wanted? As the maker of the knot, he was able to take it apart quite easily, watching as the piece of fabric fell from your face. He rubbed his fingers between the soaked fabric, groaning as you still refused to open your eyes, afraid of what you would be faced with.

“Open your eyes, pretty girl. I want to see your eyes when I break you.” Your skin around your eyes was puffy and red, your eyes bloodshot, your mascara running down your face, lips cracked and bleeding from how much you had bitten them. You were the definition of wrecked beauty in Ghost’s eyes. You finally looked between your legs, seeing Ghost’s massive cock resting between your legs. Your sobbing started up again when you registered the red tinge on his tip, evidence of the strain the first time. “Oh come on baby, I can make this easier for you.” He cooed. He quickly leaned down and pulled his mask up to his nose, gathering a large wad of spit that he skillfully spat directly on your clit, watching as it slid down your pussy. “God, what a sight.” Ghost groaned as he pulled his mask back down.

“Please, please don’t do this,” you tried your best to get him to stop. There was no way this behemoth was going to be able to fit. You were going to die. Ghost just laughed at you again, ��Come on, you know that won’t work with me.” He smiled underneath his mask and once again guided his member to your entrance.

“Three… two…” He didn’t let you wait. He shoved just a little more than the tip in, and even though the spit provided some lube, you still screamed.

“It hurts! It’s too much!” Tears were streaming down your face, the hulking man bullying his way into you had started to seriously break your mind. You were going mad. You swear you could feel your body tearing open, your brain was screaming at you to get him to stop. There was no way he was going to be able to fit. He was insane. Ghost must have sensed your growing anxiety, as he cooed at you quietly that you were doing “so good,” trailing his fingers from the center of your chest down to rest over your clit. Starting to circle his fingers around your sensitive nub, your cunt slowly started pulsing around Ghost’s dick. He wanted to take pity on you, really, he did, but you just looked so pretty stretched around his cock like this. As Ghost went to take one of your breasts in his hand again, you squeezed your eyes shut, but this wasn’t for long as the second Ghost noticed, a loud slap could be heard.

“You’re not being a good girl for me, isn’t that what you want to do, be a good girl?” He questioned as you tried to focus your eyes on the masked man in front of you. He was looming above you, one hand resting to the side of your head to steady himself and the other returning his harsh treatment of your breast.

Out on display like this, your body was shaking from both the exposure and the fear coursing through your veins. The slap had once again made your head fuzzy, like every time you received impact from his large hand, your brain reset. Ghost leaned back to inspect the way that you wrapped around him as he went to slowly push a few more inches in. There was one thing you were right about, and it’s that Ghost’s cock was most definitely too much for you. But Ghost didn’t have the heart to care, he would make sure it would fit.

“Don’t worry princess, you’re halfway there.” Your heart dropped, your sobs getting louder. At this, Ghost laughed, reminding you of the heartlessness of this beast.

“Go easy on me! Please, just this much, no more, no more!” You cried, and Ghost responded to this by pressing just a little harder on your clit.

“You need to realize that the more you struggle, the more this is going to hurt.” Ghost grunted out. But you didn’t care, you wanted him away from you. You utilized the fact that your feet weren’t bound and kicked your heel into his back. You heard a little “oof” before Ghost stopped all of his movement.

Uh oh. Something told you that was a bad move. A low growl reached your ears and your heart dropped to your stomach.

“You know,” He reeled back, stroking at his chin in faux pondering “that was laughable, mutt. We should really teach you how to kick properly.” His eyes looked down at you with amusement before narrowing “But that was also bad, very very bad.” His voice was thick, reaching your ears with such ferocity that your skin immediately erupted in goosebumps. Slowly, you could feel Ghost pull out, leaving just the tip inside. Without warning, his hand shot to your throat, squeezing immediately and causing you to choke on your breath.

“Oh you poor,” he slid in another inch, “sweet,” another inch “pathetic,” your head felt like it was surrounded by pillows and your vision had black dots swimming in front, you needed air, you needed- “whore.” And suddenly, he was thrusting his cock into you, A scream was ripped from your throat, the lack of breath causing it to die quickly. Your body was on fire, you couldn’t breathe, and you were thrashing to get out of his grip. But without air, your body was losing momentum quickly, and those black dots were getting increasingly larger. He hadn’t even moved, instead he squeezed your throat tighter. “Come on,” he grumbled lowly “submit.” You hadn’t had air for at least a minute, Ghost looked down at you and very faintly you could make out his grin through the mask. This sick bastard.

Despite you being the one with a hand around your throat, Ghost also couldn’t breathe. The way your cunt was pulsing around his cock had him trying to steadily gather air. “Fuck princess, you’re squeezing me so tight.” He groaned, but if you could hear him you didn’t make any indication of it. Ghost didn’t want to let his grasp on your neck go, your eyes were rolling back into your head. He felt like a teenage boy again, gathering the strength to not cum right then and there.

Finally, when the black dots had become swarms in your vision, he released. Your chest was heaving as you gasped for air, your head feeling as though it was underwater. But then your thoughts came back to you, and you broke down again.

“Please spare me! I don’t want to die, please, just leave me alone!” Ghost wasn’t listening, instead going to pull his hips back slowly, teasingly, as your walls clenched onto him like no tomorrow.

“You feel so good though sweetheart, how could I ever leave you alone” he cooed, his voice still carrying a dark weight behind it as he thrusted forward again. This caused yet another scream to be pulled from your body. You were mortified; you had no idea what to do.

Ghost couldn’t fucking believe the scene that was playing out in front of him. The velvet that was wrapped around his cock was addicting, and it took every fiber of his being to not slam into you repeatedly. He was trying to be nice, trying not to jackhammer into you like there’s no God, and yet he could feel his self-control slipping away. Piece by piece, his resolve fell away. Instead of the spit acting as lube, your own wetness was starting to drip onto him, and it was turning him on to no end. Knowing your body was slowly giving into him.

Knowing your body was slowly giving into him was only making you cry out louder. It was getting to your head, feeling hazy and clouding right from wrong. You started really looking at this man, tears swimming in your vision. You looked right into his icy blue eyes, the military paint around his eyes making them look so stark in contrast.

The eye contact was the last straw. The way your teary eyes were staring so intensely into his, almost studying him, made him snap. “Oh princess,” a slow thrust here “don’t look at me like that” another thrust, a bit quicker this time. “You’re gonna make me lose my resolve.” He growled. With that, he quickened his pace, and oh how you reacted. Your moans graced his ears with a heightened pitch and increase in quantity. “You’re such a whiny little baby” he cooed, watching you squirm as he used the same tone to belittle you further, “Can’t even handle me like this, so pathetic.”

The tears rolled down your face. You didn’t understand how any God could leave you at the hands of a man so cruel, but for once, the extra crying seemed to work on him. Almost.

After patronizing you more and watching fat tears roll down your pretty little face, Ghost was hit with an idea.

As you closed your eyes, you suddenly felt his warm tongue lap up the tears that had trailed down your chest, causing you to shiver. “D-Daddy!” You moaned, not expecting the sensation as he slowly trailed up your chest, up your neck, to your jaw, and finally your cheek.

“You want me to be nice to you sweetheart?”

You nodded, eyes looking up at him with such want, such plea, that Ghost almost felt bad was what he was about to do. He went to pull out, teasing your entrance with the tip. But then you started wiggling, whining at the loss of the feeling, and Ghost just couldn’t take it.

“Too bad.” He growled, and with that, he slammed into you with no remorse.

The scream you let out could’ve broken windows, and oh how it was music to Ghost’s ears. “Oh yes baby girl, let it allll out, tell the world exactly who this pussy belongs to.”

The pace that he begun was like that of a jackhammer, your pussy was on fire. The squelching noises mixed with the sounds of your screams? Moans? (You couldn’t tell anymore) had you realizing just how ruined your bed was going to be once this was all over. If it ever ended. But slowly, against your will, your body started reacting. The pain slowly subsided, and it started to feel good. The fire was still ongoing, but it raged in your core instead. Every thrust left you clinging to your soul and you weren’t sure you were going to get it back. Just then, Ghost went to angle his hips just a little higher, grabbing your hips and starting to use you like a fleshlight. Your breath hitched, and suddenly you were gripping onto your covers for dear life.

“Daddy, daddy! There, oh my God, there!”

“Oh yeah?” His fingers grabbed onto your hips harder, adding more pressure and making sure it would bruise. He watched as you nodded before thrashing your head back and forth. He almost wanted to take his mask off so you could see the wicked smile etched across his face, but he knew better.

You started to feel the sensation you had when Ghost’s face was between your thighs, and you almost wanted to run from it. “No, no! It feels weird, I feel funny!”

Ghost took that as his chance to make you launch into orbit, using one hand to trail up your chest to your neck, and his other to rest on your clit. Making small circles, your mewls were just getting louder and louder. But that stopped when Ghost started choking you again, your hands trying to wrap around his arms and pull them away.

“N-No” you choked out, tears starting to stream down your face again. But for some reason, the feeling persisted. As he was thrusting into you with the strength of a God while cutting off your air supply, you realized your body was still feeling good.

“Come on baby, submit. You know you like this.” Your pussy was squeezing him tighter the longer he rested his hand on your throat. He reveled in it before he started feeling the familiar pulsing he felt around his tongue. The sensation had him loosening his grip on your throat, watching as you gasped for air.

“Daddy, I can’t take this!” You cried, digging your nails into his back.

He groaned “Yes you can angel, let go.” He picked up the pace by a notch, ramming into you like there was no tomorrow and God did you react. Ghost felt a final squeeze, before realizing his abdomen felt a little more wet than it did before. You had squirted on him.

The feeling was dizzying, fireworks were exploding behind your eyelids. The release was overwhelming, the way you screamed while digging your nails into his shoulders had you convinced there had to be blood. You felt electrified, panting heavily before realizing he hadn’t stopped, but his thrusts were faltering.

“Fuck, you can’t do that to me you dirty girl.” He grunted out. Resting one hand by the side of your head and the other on your breast, he started groping you before picking up his pace once again.

“W-Wait, I can’t take anymore!”

“Shhh, just a little more.” And then, with a particularly rough palm of your breast, he came. The thought of his cum being the first to fill you was enough to make his dick twitch to attention again, but he wanted to give you a break.

The feeling was unknown to you. You gasped quietly. You had just felt him twitch, felt the hot liquid hit your walls.

“Good job angel. You did so good for me.” He cooed, and you couldn’t help but writhe shyly at his praise. You felt him slowly pull out, and you whined at the loss. The empty feeling foreign after his onslaught. The wet feeling between your thighs seemingly growing by the second.

Ghost peered between your legs and groaned, watching his seed drip out of you slowly, before pulling his boxers and pants back up, turning around, and walking out of your bedroom. You tried to sit up quickly and fell back, whining loudly to try and show your distress. “Where are you going?” You shouted worriedly. You almost started to cry when you heard no response, but then you heard the faucet running. The large man appeared in the doorway holding a washcloth “I’ll give you the option, would you like a bath or just a rag?”

“Um… a bath would be nice?” You couldn’t believe you were letting this man pamper you after he broke into your house, but what else were you supposed to do? Your moral complaints were quickly quieted when he picked you up bridal style to walk you to the bathroom. He had somehow found the bubbles, and lined the tub ledge with the products that you used.

After finishing your hair, Ghost began to wash your body, taking great care to grope and caress each curve of your body. The bath felt too sensual, but you couldn’t be bothered to care when the water was so warm, when his hands were so comforting, when the feeling was so… nice. When all was said and done, he drained the bath, wrapping you in a fluffy towel and bringing you back to your room.

Pulling open your closet, Ghost’s eyes were assaulted with pink and frills. You had an array of dresses and outfits that he could choose from. He decided to randomly choose a pale pink dress that looked tantalizingly short, decorated with ribbons, lace, and bows, he could tell you were satisfied by his choice.

“Put this on princess, then we’ll leave”

“Leave?!” You panicked, scrambling away from him once again.

“You really think you can live here on your own? When all the maids have stopped showing up? What happens when you run out of food?” He growled; he didn’t have the patience for this.

“I don’t want to! Please don’t take me from here!” You cried, tears starting to well up in your eyes. “Daddy always told me I wouldn’t be able to survive out there, that they would eat me alive”

“Oh they would. Which is why you’ll be with me” He grunted. “You don’t have a choice little one, so make this easy on me, won’t you?”

The tears started falling as you nodded, grabbing the dress and slowly putting it on. You stood up and maneuvered around him carefully to grab white ruffle socks and some white mary janes, hearing Ghost groan behind you.

“You make it so hard not to rip your clothing off and take you all night long.”

You shy away from him, the statement reminding you that he was not a good man. As you go to grab underwear, he stops you.

“None of that, you don’t get that luxury”

You whimpered quietly, uncomfortable with the thought of going out without anything covering you. The dress was already short enough, one that you only wore when your father wasn’t around, and here he was, forcing you to go out of the house without. Too scared to complain, you grabbed a couple toiletries and your diary, before turning to him. “If you’re going to take me, can you at least tell me your name?”

His eyes narrowed. “Ghost.”

You opened your mouth to start to complain before shutting it again, accepting the answer. “Where are you taking me?”

“The base. Where Price will figure out exactly what to do with you.”

You swallow, not exactly thrilled with the answer but you nod anyways. Ghost checks over the room one more time before turning to you and picking you up bridal style once again, a shocked noise coming from your mouth.

“Can’t have you going anywhere sweetheart.”

And with that, you’re leaving the house for the first time in your life. He watches as you take in the woods around you, glad that the rain stopped a bit ago.

“Johnny will be waiting for us, you’re in good hands.”

You can't help but doubt that.

[celestialgalaxyglow]

Batfam and Danny, Part 35

The next day, Wayne Manor, the in-house movie theater

Damian: Is everything set up Alfred?

Alfred: Yes Master Damian. The film has been uploaded to the projector, all you need to do is hit play on the remote, and the popcorn machine has all warmed up.

Damian: Good this has to be perfect.

Alfred: Don't worry too much Damian, Jon will be happy to just spend time with you.

Damian: You don't understand this our first date... is this a date? Whatever the case I don't want Jon to regret courting me.

Alfred (placing a hand on Damian's head): All will be fine, just breathe.

Damian (breathing): I know.

Alfred's phone dings.

Alfred: That must be him, do you wish to go with me Damian?

Damian: I'll finish preparing things, please escort Jon here.

Alfred: Very well Master Damian.

A few minutes later

Alfred: Here we are

Jon: Hi Dami!

Damian: Hi Jon.

They hug.

Damian: This feels weird...

Jon: I know... but why? We've hugged before.

Alfred (amused): I'll leave you two alone, do call if you need anything.

Damian (blushing): Let's grab some popcorn and sit.

Jon (also blushing): Yeah, let's.

The two of them grab a popcorn bucket, sit down next to each other and start playing the movie.

Jon happily watches the movie. Damian on the other hand watched the movie absolutely bewildered.

After the movie.

Jon: That was a great movie! What do think Damian?

Damian: It was awful! Well, the story itself was ok, but the assassin stuff was just awful. It is woefully inaccurate and honestly insulting. The movie doesn’t come out for a few more weeks, but as soon as it does, I’ll be writing a review! 

Jon: Taking advantage that the whole world knows you’re the grandson of Ra al Ghul?

Damian: Yes! Everyone knows I was raised by assassins for the first ten years of my life, I can provide an expert review. I am proud of my assassin heritage.

Jon: “I am proud of my assassin heritage” sounds very wrong out of context.  

Damian: ...True, I won’t phrase it like that, honestly a review won't cut it, I'm going to write a whole essay!

Jon: Why don't you make it a video essay? I could help you with visuals and editing.

Damian (smiling): Great idea! Let's go to my room and start writing.

Jon: Ok.

A while later.

Danny (entering Damian's room): Hey guys, how was the movie?

Jon: It was ok, but Damian didn't like the assassin lore the movie has, so now we're writing a video essay-review of the film.

Danny: Would you two like any snacks from the kitchen while you work?

Damian: Can you bring me some muffins, and pomegranate juice.

Jon: I'll also like some muffins and a hot chocolate, if it's not too much effort.

Danny: Sure thing, be back in a bit.

Danny turned intangible and flew out of the room through the floor.

Damian: Ok, as I was saying, the terminology used during the conversation five minutes into the movie is all kinds of wrong. I will first address why, and then what could have been said to make that conversation make sense... Damian looked up to Jon looking at him. Jon are you listening?

Jon: I am, but I'm also admiring how cute you are.

Damian (shyly): Shut up I'm not cute, al Ghuls are not cute.

Jon: Ok, would you prefer handsome? Pretty? Beautiful?

Damian: Shut up!

Jon: No.

Damian: Fine want to play like that? You're also cute, and very smart, especially during our patrols.

Jon: So are you, plus you're always the one with all the intel, we build on each other's strengths.

Damian (smiling): We're getting off topic.

Jon (smiling): Sorry for distracting you.

Damian: It was a welcomed distraction.

Damian and Jon smiled at each other.

Danny: Aww, you two are so cute.

Damian and Jon jumped, turning to Danny holding a tray with muffins, and their drinks.

Danny: Here are your snacks.

Damian (embarrassed, grabbing the tray): Get out!

Danny: But-

Damian (pushing Danny out of the room): OUT! Damian walked back to the desk and set down the tray. Let's eat and work.

Jon (smiling, grabbing his hot chocolate): As you wish.

(Master Post)

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

In Class 2

I was going to wait to binge watch the rest of the show tomorrow but honestly I need to put this show behind me for several reasons. Let me just get this out of the way before I say anything else. I am a big fan of the manhwa, simple as it may be. I have lived with these characters in my head for two years now. So my bias is clearly showing. But one thing that I want to make perfectly clear. Just because I love the manhwa, and admittedly I have a bias, does not mean I am dense, and incapable of watching and judging the show as it's own thing. I still have a brain. Ok. Now for the show. This usually goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway. These are my opinions. Read at your own risk.

This is not a bad show. It's also not a bl. And that fact alone, makes this a bad adaptation. Let’s be honest, they adapted a bl and turned it into something that’s not a bl any more, as many have stated before. This is a kdrama with queer themes. Liking the show, and even acknowledging that it’s good, doesn’t change that fact. And if people honestly can't understand why people would have a problem with that, then nothing I will say about it will make a difference.

Now for the actual show. As a kdrama this isn't a bad series. The characters have depth, the astronomy metaphors are clever, even if at times they felt really heavy-handed, the acting is really good, for the most part, and there are some brilliant scenes that could make this show a great one. But it doesn't all come together. It's inconsistent. And it doesn't commit to its queerness. It's a series that was made two years ago, and it shows. Maybe even further back, actually. Which, regardless of my feelings for the source, is just sad. I'm not a romance kdrama watcher so I have no real frame of reference in that regard. But it seems like this show wanted to be a couple of different things but ended up not being either. It's not queer enough to be a bl, but it's too queer to be mainstream. It's not hard to see why this show couldn't find distribution for two years. They were aiming for mainstream but that was never gonna happen two years ago. Well, it didn't happen right now either, so...

My favourite part was the sisters. I love them. I think their various adventures in dating were really important as a parallel to Heesu. Which is one of the reasons I don't think the Chanyoung and JiYu couple were necessary to drive that point home. Nor do I think that's why they were there. One of my favourite scenes was Heesu coming out to his sister. And her reaction basically being, "Oh, I should say I love him now, that's what one should do in this situation." It was so well done.

Ahn Ji Ho was great as Heesu. Just really great. His emotions shined through beautifully throughout the whole series. Lee Sang Jun also did an amazing job as Seung Won. His physicality was on point at all times. I love these two so much. 

I think time was not used efficiently here. Mostly with the queer couple. I live for pining besties. But by episode 9, there were way too many chances and everything with the hets was already in the open, so why stretch it out? Cause it feels purposefully stretched. The editing in the final two episodes was a mess and I kept wondering what might've been left on the cutting room floor. It just didn't flow at all, and I kept getting pulled out of the emotional journey. It really seemed like they were forced to have 10 episodes but they couldn't really give us more than 5 minutes of the boys together so they made a mess of things in the final stretch.

I think the friendship between Heesu and Chanyoung was the weaker part of all this. They never felt, to me, like best friends. A lot of times, there's an issue with friends to lovers, which is the blurring of lines. You are crushing on your best friend, so everything becomes deeper, more hurtful, than if he was just your best friend.  I think for the most part, Heesu navigated this pretty well. We've certainly seen much worse. He slipped sometimes and messed up, but he never really stopped being by Chanyoung's side. 

However, this is still a very unbalanced friendship, mostly because of Chanyoung. He makes fun of Heesu for not having any friends, but it seems like he has the same problem. Cause it seems like he only reaches out to Heesu when he has a problem. He comes and goes as he pleases, and if he hadn't been sleeping at his house and seen Heesu unable to sleep, I doubt he would've noticed anything was wrong with Heesu at all. I'm not saying Heesu was a perfect friend, btw. But the confession scene and the subsequent summoning of Heesu to the tennis court where Chanyoung could feel safe, where he literally has home court advantage, where he could throw balls at Heesu, was a step too far for me. (Also, JiYu, you could do better!)

I liked the final three minutes because I have a heart. And I could finally watch my boys be together even if only for a short time. But it came too late and it stumbled too much to get there for me to feel the level of joy that I usually get. I think I needed more of them throughout the show to feel that same sense of joy when they moved past all the hurdles and finally got together.

I think maybe I should stop now. I think I could forgive more about this show if it was actually mainstream. If I could say, you know what? At least we're getting a queer coming of age story in a mainstream kdrama. I might still not like that they chose this manhwa for it, because there’s no shortage of those, so to pick one that is just about two boys falling in love and little else confuses me. But at least then I could feel like something was accomplished here. As it stands, I'm just left disappointed by a show that I had been waiting for since I first read the manhwa a couple of years ago.

[sebadztian]

Another week, another episode. Let's go!!

Spoilers for episode 4 below (and the manga too!)

*press the 'Skip Recap' button* - where was this button last week?

I've read the manga, I know what's going on, but it still strange to see Sebas serving morning tea to someone who's not Ciel...

Ah, so Sebas knows that Sieg & Ciel are roughly the same size... His Bocchan is really tiny.

I'm pretty sure it takes more than a bedcover to make a dress, but whatever.

"A skill a dressmaker could do better."

1. Nina will agree, 110%

2. Humility doesn't suit you, sir.

Even going to breakfast has to be accompanied by sparkles... The DRAMA...

Wolf looked like he wanted to punch Sebas in the face. I don't blame him.

*Skip Intro*

I've got to admit, when I first read about this whole 'Formal Table Setting' thing in the manga, I learned a lot.

What is it with Sebas and his tendency to get into someone's face? An intimidation tactic? A decline in his vision? Or is he just weird like that?

Ofc she doesn't know anything about table manners. She was raised by a Wolf (Get it?)

I call bullshit. Sir, you don't even have a heart!

Ah, he's dangling the 'knowledge' carrot in front of her. I think he was testing the water here, to see how she'd react, if she'd take his bait. And she did. Enthusiastically too.

It was her weakness and he exploited that. I talked about this some time ago, about how Sebas had seduced Sieg with the promise of 'more knowledge' and 'the outside world' to get her to cooperate.

Bard, if only you knew... Sebas was crying inside. "Bocchaaaan.... Bocchaann... Please let me touch you...!"

Tanaka is highly underrated just because he's half-chibi. One of the reasons why I love this arc is because we get to see the servants in action. We did see that in the Circus arc too, ofc. But this one is different. They weren't at home, they were stuck in a foreign territory, battling an army of German soldiers, and they still kicked ass!

*Professor Michaelis flashback*

A solid proof that Sebas does care about Ciel. He brings that book with him everywhere so that he can be prepared if Ciel was having another asthma attack or any other illness that the little lord might've neglected to mention because Sebas 'never asked'.

I'm sorry... what did they do to people with sore throat back then?!

Neither have I, Sieglinde. Neither have I. But bacon does make me happy, so...

Wolf has been demoted from 'butler & caretaker' to 'errand boy'.

Babyyy....!!

Sebas is missing out!

Seb: I KNOW! BOCCHAAAANNN...!! 😭😭

Please don't scold Finny. He's trying his best... He's so sweet!! I love him!!

It is really hard to believe that this was the same boy who stood his ground against a literal demon. I did some research on mustard gas and yes, this is one of the effects. Basically it enhanced the negative feelings, such as fear or anxiety tenfold and that's why Ciel is like this. The 'werewolves' were there to further worsen this effect.

This is truly heartbreaking. Ciel's crying and feeling that he didn't deserve any of this, that he wasn't good enough. This gas is enhancing his childhood trauma and opened the dam of three years of suppressed emotions. This arc really shows how much Ciel had sacrificed and how hard it was to maintain the image of 'Ciel Phantomhive'. He lost his entire personality, the sweet, caring, and wonderful younger brother.

So, back then, Ciel & Seba were sent to investigate and dismantle the lab in Germany, just like how the queen was sending him to Germany again to investigate about the werewolf village. Somebody really needs to call child service...

Sebastian looked way too happy to fight a child test subject...

He really was adorable. No wonder everyone wanted a piece of him...

I might've misheard it, but I thought I heard Ciel say 'Shieru' (as in RC) and Sebas. Due to the way Japanese sentences are structured, the object was said first before the verb and he did say something about RC. But the translation didn't mention it because it wouldn't make any sense because he hadn't utter the verb.

Ciel-shaped lump on the bed. (Why does he look like a turnip?)

I should've hired Sebas as my English tutor, or read that book about the bacon. I've been learning English for 20+ years and I still can't speak it perfectly, but Sieg spend the morning (3 hours at most?) learning the language using a single book and she's now fluent in English.

Well, that's a unique, not weird at all, thing to say to a sick person, don't you think? And she did well on not mentioning the marked eye. Sebas looked somewhat worried, but mostly kept his poker face. I bet it took everything in him not to reach out to touch his little meow-meow.

Sieg knew some things about various rituals to conclude that Seb & Ciel were devil worshippers based on the marks on Seb's hand & Ciel's eye. She even recognized the symbol as demonic signs.

I wonder if this knowledge would come up again in the later chapters of the manga...

Painful memory? Actually, it was a fond memory. It was the day he met his future husband!

Dear lord, what on earth was Wolf doing?! Was he wighing the salt?! Why?!

I don't know why Yana said that Sebas acted without thinking. He's shown that he was quite knowledgeable and he can think on his feet. He came up with a strategy when battling UT on Campania, and he knew that there was something hidden underneath the manor, so he utilized Snake's snake to investigate further. The man is a smart cookie and combine that with his experience, he's actually very clever and sly.

This is way funnier in the anime than in the manga. And look at that ass!

Snake looks like he got some sort of a revelation... and fangs.

And that's it for this week. It was overall a great episode. Everyone got some decent screentime and some scenes are much better animated than they were in the manga. Like Ciel's grief and his helplessness. It was much more pronounced in the anime.

I think they did a great job with this arc. They're clearly more comfortable with drawing the characters because they look much better than last season's.

And I'm happy that they're staying true to the manga. At this point, I don't want to see an AU of any sort like S1 or S2. I just want to see the manga panels come into life and hear the characters' voices. Some might not agree with me, but that's just my personal preference.

See you next week!

[professional-rat-eater]

"Hey anon, these are not equivalent and I think you know that. Yes, I’m sure there more people like Armand who were groomed by a 2000 YEAR OLD VAMPIRE in the 16th century. Maybe there’s enough for them to start a support group for each other."

Genuninely I don't understand why being a fictional vampire only works when it comes to giving nuance to the the way DM is depicted in the story but not Armand Marius

So Marius does deserve nuance. The nuance does not change what he is. That was the entire point I was making. The same is true of Armand and every other character. His actions are his actions. I think the inner workings of Marius’s brain are fascinating, but he did what he did. Once we agree on that, then we can get into the nuance.

Marius being a vampire only exacerbates and adds to his predatory nature. His type of evil is very real. That’s why it gets to me and a lot of other people, compared to other characters whose behaviour tends to feel very heightened. It’s not that the other vamps aren’t also doing things that are real, but hurting children is hurting children and most people tend to be more sensitive towards that topic than 90% of other things. Yes, he’s 2000 years old and a vampire. But he’s still a pedophile, and the way he treats Armand, all the many types of abuse he subjects him to, not just sexual, are incredibly real. I could take apart his dialogue line by line and compare it to the behaviour of real pedophiles. I could also take apart Armand’s behaviour line by line and highlight exactly when he’s continuing the cycle of abuse that was started by Marius (and due to all his other many instances of trauma but that’s a whole separate post.)

It’s not to say it’s not also true that Armand is predatory. He is. All the vampires are, but my post was not a deep dive or character study on him or Marius. It was a point about the way we approach analysis of him and characters in general. Frankly I’d need thousands and thousands of words to do him justice. I’ve made more nuanced posts in the past, and I’ll probably make more in the future because I actually like him as a character. You shouldn’t assume one post completely encompasses every last opinion I have on him or is anything close to a full analysis, especially when that’s not that the post was about. Marius deserves nuance as much as anyone else. If he weren’t a believable, layered character, I don’t think I’d care about him half as much as I do. He moves like a real predator and his vampiric abilities have little to do with it, but they do make it worse.

But your point isn’t disconnected from the point I was actually making. I love talking about Marius and Armand and Daniel and every other vampire, but how on earth can we be expected to have sincere conversations when there are people repeatedly denying key parts of who these characters are? It would be like attempting to downplay Armand’s involvement in Claudia’s death. It doesn’t make sense to do it.

Devil’s Minion, from an objective standpoint, begins with Armand stalking and terrorising Daniel and attempting to recreate key elements of what he endured under Marius’s care, but with himself as the perpetrator. Marius’s relationship with Armand, from an objective standpoint, begins with Marius acquiring a child who had been repeatedly subjected to sexual abuse from a brothel, and beginning a sexual relationship with him.

Both of these things are true. Though I tend to write sympathetically towards Armand, if you went through my posts I think you’d find that I mention how evil he is pretty consistently. If he weren’t evil, he wouldn’t be the character I like so much. If Marius weren’t so well written, I don’t think I’d hate him as much. But ultimately my point is that in order to discuss these characters, we need to begin with an honest foundation. Pretending Marius wasn’t a child predator does the opposite of that. He was one. That’s just a fact. It’s not all he was, but it was still a pretty significant part of him.

[fckbatmanhiskidsareminenow]

We Hug, We Never Used To Do That

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65106655

Damian makes a mistake and chooses Jason’s apartment to hide out in. He has no idea about the date.

In honour of it being Jason’s death anniversary the other day have this fic i’ve been working on for a year.

please heed the trigger warnings

panic attacks

dissociation

description of violence and death but none in the actual fic

blood ig

also thank you @heavenssolitude for beta reading this for months 🥰

————

Jason doesn‘t really expect the baby bat to break into his apartment at 2 a.m., but here they are.

The kid is still dressed in his Robin costume.

“Todd I… I didn’t think you would be here,” he says softly. Jason crosses his arms.

“This is my apartment. I should be asking you what you’re doing here.”

“You are usually at one of your safe houses.” Damian is wringing his hands, drawing Jason’s attention to the dark stains clinging to the green gloves. He eyes them suspiciously.

“Okay, and? Answer the question.” Jason isn’t one to feel nervous, but neither is Damian.

“I cannot go back to the manor tonight.” The kid says it like he’s admitting to a horrible secret. The hand wringing has turned into a scrubbing motion. Jason takes the silence between them as a chance to study Damian. He’s drenched from the rain and hunched in on himself, giving him the complexion of a stray kitten. The hood of his cape is blocking out his face and Jason notices more red stains around the costume.

Now listen, Jason may be more in the ass-kicking industry than the detective one, but it didn’t take much of his Bat-training to figure out what has happened. He takes a deep breath, staring up at the ceiling as if begging a god he doesn’t believe in that this isn’t happening.

He really hates doing the whole big brother thing. Especially on today of all days.

Jason decides to take pity on the kid. He makes a beckoning gesture, and leads him into the bathroom, where he grabs a shirt and a pair of shorts with a drawstring.

“Wash up. Then we’ll talk about why you’ve run away.” Jason says and points at the shower. He closes the door behind him and heads to the kitchen to make them both something to eat.

A few minutes later he gets a call. It’s from Bruce. If Damian coming here thinking Jason wouldn’t be home tells him anything, it means he wants to be left alone.

“Hey B, how’s old age treating—“ “Jason, have you seen Damian?” He sounds stressed.

“Nope.” Jason says, popping the p, and then pokes his head into the bedroom to make sure Damian is alright. “I don’t know where he is. You oughta get a backpack leash or something.” At this point he’s basically a professional at lying to the Bat.

“Why? What did you do?” He hears Bruce sigh.

“I didn’t do anything. You always assume I’m the problem.” Jason rolls his eyes.

“Okay, well if you didn’t do anything, what did he do?” He hears Bruce sigh again. This one sounds more tired, but not the kind of tired you can just sleep off.

“I...I don’t even know what happened if I’m honest. Someone was killed tonight.”

Jason sucks in a breath. Dang it, he was right. “A criminal, one of Crane’s. But still, he’s dead. The only proof I even have of Damian being there is his sword, but we can’t find him.” For all his credit, Bruce does sound really worried. Whether it’s because his son is missing or because his son just killed a man, he’s not too sure.

“Yeah, whatever, B, I don’t know where he is.” He lies again. If Damian doesn’t want anyone to know where he is, then that’s his business.

He hangs up the call and goes back to making food. It’s nothing special, just grilled cheese, but that’s mostly because Jason hasn’t gone grocery shopping yet. He hasn’t had the energy to.

“Who were you talking to?”

He almost jumps when Damian speaks. He turns to see him and slightly softens at the kid he’s met with. Damian is wearing his obscenely large clothes, his hair is wet and down. He actually looks like a normal kid. You would never look at this Damian and suspect he killed a man today.

Jason plates the grilled cheese.

“Your dad.” Upon seeing the look of terror that flashes over the kid’s face, he adds, “I didn’t tell him where you were, but he did seem worried.” Damian fiddles with the towel and looks down at his feet. Jason takes it from him, hands him a plate and leads him to the couch.

They eat in silence until the food is all gone. Damian still hasn’t said a word about what has happened, but Jason has a feeling he knows what’s going on inside his head.

“B isn’t gonna throw you out, ya know.”

The kid's head shoots up to look at him. His green eyes are wide.

“He told me what happened, or at least what it looks like happened. He sounded worried, not mad.”

Damian huffs. “That is because he doesn’t know what has happened yet. He will be disappointed and send me back to the League when he finds out.” He says it with such a serious tone, like he was stating a fact.

“What happened, Damian?” The latter looks away from him, curling up into himself in a way Jason has never seen him do.

“It was an accident. There were so many of them. I used my sword just to get some of them to back away. I made a mistake in my counting.” Damian looks up at him with the most honest eyes. “He took me off guard and I acted instinctively. I couldn’t even try to save him. It was truly an accident. Just an unforgivable one.” He looks back down at his hands as if the blood is still there. “Father will—“

Jason cannot stand the wobbles in the kid’s voice.

“Bruce isn’t sending you away. It was an accident.” He reaches out for Damian’s shoulder, but he shrugs him off.

“He will keep me until he finds out it’s my instinct to kill.” He says darkly. Jason huffs out a laugh.

“Kid, if Bruce doesn’t already know that, then he needs to step down from the title of the World's Greatest Detective. You were raised by assassins for the first ten years of your life. Of course killing is instinctual.” Damian still looks unconvinced. Jason pulls him in against his chest. “And even if he tried to send you away, which he won’t, there’s no way Dick or anyone is gonna let him. That, I can promise.”

Damian finally relaxes in his hold and reciprocates the hug.

It’s about an hour later when they’re both disturbed by Jason’s phone blaring. He slides an arm out from around Damian and picks it up.

“Hey, Dickface.”

“Jay?” He sounds wrecked. “Jay, if Dames is with you, I need to know.” His voice wobbles and cuts off like he’s trying to stifle a sob. Jason sits up, causing Damian to slide off him. The younger one gives him a strange look.

“Thought you were supposed to be in ‘haven tonight.” Jason doesn’t know what to say. Dick sounds terrible, like he’s been crying for hours. Damian pulls on his arm and signs ’speaker’? Jason doesn’t reply verbally, but not a second later Dick’s voice is audible.

“I—I was but B called me and said he couldn’t find Damian and—Oh god, it’s been an hour.” His voice turns into a whine and he again covers his mouth. “I need to know if he’s okay, Jay. I keep imagining him stuck somewhere cold and scared and I can’t—I can’t. I promise I—I won’t tell Bruce, just please—please Jason I need to know.” Their big brother is begging on the other side of the phone. Jason turns to look at the younger one and the kid looks devastated.

“I’m here Richard.” He says softly. A gasp and a sob come through the phone.

“Oh thank god.” There’s a thud and a slide sound, and Jason can only imagine it’s Dick sliding down a wall to sit on the floor.

“Okay—Okay. Are you hurt?” Dick asks, his voice still breathless and wobbly.

“I am uninjured.” Damian waits a beat. “Are you well, Richard?” Dick lets out a slightly hysterical laugh.

“I think I've had about three breakdowns since Bruce called me. I wasn’t really having a great day to begin with.” He chuckles sadly. “Not that it’s your fault, Damian, I’m sure you had a good reason to run. Don’t feel guilty for my reaction, it’s just been a crazy week.” He’s getting quieter as he speaks. Jason and Damian share a look.

“Okay, two things, Blue, one, you should’ve called me sooner. Don’t call me after you’ve had three breakdowns. And two, where are you right now?” If his brother is having a post-panic attack induced adrenaline crash, he’d like to know he’s not in some alleyway somewhere.

“M’ at one of your safe houses. Was looking for Dames. It’s the one above the bodega.” He’s slurring in a way only a person who’s about to pass out can. Jason gets up and grabs his keys.

“Okay, I'm coming to get you.” He’s almost out the door when he turns to Damian.

“Don’t open the door for anyone. There’s a gun under the couch and a kitchen full of knives if you need them.” And then he leaves before Damian can even get a word in.

He isn’t quite sure what to do while Todd is gone, so he looks around the apartment. It is a small one-bedroom. The kitchen, living, and dining are all one space, all carpeted except for the slightly yellow-stained tiles in the kitchen. He brings their plates to the sink and begins to wash them when he hears a noise. A click sound and then a slide.

Damian backs further into the kitchen. Someone has just opened one of the windows in the living room. He opens the drawer with the knives, pulls one out and holds it close to his chest.

“Jason, you asshole! Where are you?!”

Damian knows that voice anywhere.

“I know this is your apartment, so come out! Damian is missing, and I've lost contact with Dick.” Drake says. Damian hears him open the bedroom door and walk around before coming back out. He sighs and sits on the couch.

“God, what is happening? Three out of three brothers are missing. Why can’t I find them?” The last words are muffled as Drake covers his face with his hands. Damian peaks out of the kitchen to look at his brother, who is curling up on himself.

Damian had no idea that people would be this worried. Yes, he suspected Grayson would be worried, because when is Grayson not worried?

But Drake? He’d never suspect Drake would go out of his way to recruit Todd into finding him. He begins to feel a bit guilty.

“Todd is collecting Grayson from one of the safe houses.” Damian starts as he steps out of the kitchen. Tim shoots up from his spot on the couch.

“Grayson had a panic attack while searching, so Todd went to get him.” Damian doesn’t even get a warning before he’s suddenly being swallowed up by Drake’s arms.

“Oh god Damian, I’m so glad you’re alright.” He speaks quietly, as if Damian would disappear again if he spoke too loud. The younger one hesitantly wraps his arms around Tim’s body. He cannot remember the last time they hugged like this, or if they ever have.

Damian can feel Tim trembling and the guilt he’s feeling doubles. “I am sorry, I never meant to cause such distress in you or in Grayson.” He says quietly. Tim releases the hug and rubs the back of his neck, a nervous tick.

“It’s okay, not ideal but I think we all get a bit jumpy in April.” He laughs nervously.

Damian makes a face and looks at Tim. “April? What happened in April?”

Before Tim can reply, a voice from behind him answers.

“I died in April,” Jason says from where he’s standing in the doorway. He’s carrying Dick on his back. “That's why Big Bird here lost his shit. Well, that and his terrible luck with good places of employment,” he adds thoughtfully. Jason throws his keys onto the bench and carries Dick to the bedroom.

Almost in a trance, Damian walks towards the small electronic clock on the wall. He sees the date.

As of two hours ago, it was April 27th.

Damian feels a little sick. Not only had he forgotten his brother’s death anniversary, but he had made everyone re-live a part of it.

Not even two days ago now, there had been an Arkham escape. One of the escapees was The Joker and he was yet to be found. Damian feels terrible for reminding his family of such a time.

A time when Father lost a son and would blame himself.

A time when Grayson lost a brother he had only just come to know.

A time when Pennyworth lost a grandson and his only cooking partner.

A time when Drake would step up not only for Gotham, but for Father as well.

And a time when Todd lost his life.

He has to wonder if The Joker is laughing right now.

He stands there staring at the clock, breathing heavily until a hand claps his shoulder.

“Don’t worry too much about it, Baby Bat.” Jason smiles at him. It’s a tired, weary smile. God, how terrible it must be to be reminded of your own death.

“Where is your phone?” He still feels as though he can’t breathe.

Jason looks at him weirdly. “Why?”

“I must call Father. I have to let him know I am well!” He says frantically and reaches out for Jason’s pockets. He feels so selfish. Jason’s right, Father would not send him back to the league for a mistake. He needs to contact him right away.

“Okay, okay! Here!” Jason pushes away Damian’s panicky hands and hands him the unlocked phone. He takes it and, without thinking, fumbles his way onto the fire escape before pressing call.

“Jason have you—“ “I'm safe, Father.” He doesn’t let Bruce get a word in. “I’m sorry for worrying you, I've been at Todd’s apartment the whole time. But do not get upset with him. I was the one who didn’t want him to tell you. I now know just how selfish that was especially with the date…”

There’s a moment of silence. “You’re at Jason’s apartment?”

“Y—yes?”

“I’ll be there in five minutes.”

Damian doesn’t get a chance to answer. He stands there, clutching Jason’s phone.

Was… was Father mad? Did he sound mad? He can’t remember.

Damian feels like he might be sick. There is a possibility that Jason could have been wrong and that Father might still send him back to the league. Maybe he had jumped the gun calling him like that. He pulls the phone closer to his chest and begins to rock on his feet.

Toe. Heel. Toe. Heel. ToeHeel. Toeheeltoeheeltoe—

“Damian? Did you call Bruce?” Jason pokes his head outside, interrupting Damian’s spiral.

“Yes. He will be here soon.” He replies numbly. He’s not sure if the numbness is better than the nausea.

“Here? Aw, shit.”

“Sorry.” He’s not sure he feels sorry, actually he’s not sure he’s feeling anything right now. If anything, he feels like he’s floating.

Damian thinks Jason says something, but he misses it and is only met with Jason holding his hand out. Damian goes to hand him his phone, but that isn’t what Jason wants, as he just rolls his eyes and grabs Damian’s arm.

“C’mon, Bluebird is up and he wants to see you.” Jason drags the kid by the arm back through the door. He pushes Damian in Dick’s direction and walks past them into the kitchen. Jason watches them from his place, leaning against a counter.

Dick immediately scoops Damian up in his arms, hugging him tightly. They’re whispering to each other, but Jason can’t hear it. All he can do is think about how he can’t remember if Dick ever treated him like that before he died.

Dick pushes Damian’s hair away from his forehead and places a kiss there. It only causes the jealousy swirling in Jason’s chest to expand. He wraps his arms around himself, trying to imagine what it would have felt like.

He tries not to let the jealousy show, he looks down at his feet. Damian needs that comfort—deserves it, even, and Jason is glad he has someone like Dick to give it to him. But, damn, if he doesn’t yearn for that type of affection. He yearned for it when he was Damian’s age and he yearns for it even now and especially today.

Jason tries not to think about how much he wants it. He tries not to think about it when Bruce all but breaks down his front door. He tries not to think about it when Bruce doesn’t even acknowledge the three other people in the���in Jason’s apartment and heads straight towards Damian, scooping him into his arms.

He tries not to think about how much he yearns for affection like that with Bruce or anyone really. How if maybe he’d reunited with him differently, if—if he hadn’t been so angry maybe their relationship would be different now.

But it wasn’t and Jason had been angry—furious even. He ruined it. Ruined it. No one will ever love him like that. He deserves it, not the love he’ll never deserve that, he deserves the crushing pain and loneliness in his chest. He deserves the—

A pair of familiar boots step into his line of sight. Jason jolts and looks up. Bruce is now standing in front of him with a small smile.

What? Wasn’t he just talking to Damian?

Jason looks around the room to see that Damian, Dick, and Tim, are now outside on the fire escape. It’s just him and Bruce now.

“How are you, Jay?” There’s a softness to his voice that Jason hasn’t heard in a long time.

“I’m fine, old man.” He scoffs like he doesn’t know why Bruce is asking and tightens up his posture.

He must look pretty pathetic, a man as tall and big as he is, cowering against his kitchen counter.

“Well—“ Bruce begins and nervously moves his arms out wide. “You just look like you could use a hug.”

Jason’s heart stops and his breath hitches. Bruce looks so sincere and God, if this is a prank, he will never forgive him. He goes completely limp and lets Bruce—no, his Dad—catch him. Strong arms wrap around his body to keep him upright.

Bruce is warm and safe, and the feeling is incomparable to the half-side hug he got from Damian earlier.

As they both sink to the kitchen floor, Jason thinks maybe, just maybe, he deserves this.

[mediumgayitalian]

Do you happen to have any tips for specifically writing like, sad/angsty type writing if that makes sense? I’ve found that when I write, (at least I’d like to think) I’m pretty decent at straight up silly goofy, slice-of-lifey type writing and things edging closer to like, horror or like, chilling if that makes sense? But every time I try to write anything just like, sad and with a like, dark but not scary type of mood it just comes out very 12 year old’s 1st wattpad, cringey anime protagonist if that makes sense. I yearn to write heart-wrenching angst but every time I do I just feel like it comes out just like, bad? I’m kinda bad at putting this into words lol

hm. i can't give you specialized advice without seeing what you've written -- i'm sure you're just hard on yourself -- but i tend to focus on concrete, sentient details.

write your character's emotions like they'll be shot by a sniper if they admit them out loud.

of course this isn't a rule. more of a guideline insert pirate joke here. but in real life people are like.....allergic to communicating. writing is already a little scripted because people communicating in noises more than anything, so if you use any more words than you have to, things can read as kind of forced. to make things seem really natural and flow well, try to 1) imply and 2) use senses & gestures.

you wanna talk about how a character is miserable? don't say theyre sad. focus on the bleakness in their eyes, the echoing scrape of their feet dragging on the ground. focus on their tired shoulders and slow-blinking eyes. point out how they eat like every plate is piled with sawdust. how they talk on a careless, broken line, like theyre working around a knife pressed too hard to their throat. how their fingernails are cracked and bleeding.

can you get a kind of image there? this is someone who is joyless, who is not taking care of themselves. it is also someone deeply loved by the person observing them -- loved enough to be notices. you HAVE to trust your readers to understand your metaphors and inferences and allusions. don't spell things out for them.

most of all, though.

PRACTICE.

im not gonna link my old shit because it's v*ltron and im still so goddamn mad at that fandom and embarrassed i wrote for it. but believe me when i tell you my old shit was clumsy. i sounded twelve, too, and that's okay because i was learning. practice and give yourself some grace.

HOMEWORK (all writing tips will come with homework now):

Walk around your home or neighborhood and pick out the saddest looking THING you can find (a drooping flower, a dead worm, a crumpled shoe, whatever). Describe it. A thing cannot be sad -- it has no emotions -- but why does it look sad? What visible or audible (or olfactory, etc) parts of it come off as 'sad' to you?

Pick a character. Pick an emotion. Practice writing dialogue -- this character is trying to tell another character their feelings have been hurt, but they have been cursed so as they cannot say so directly. How do they explain themself? Does the person they're talking to understand? Does your character get frustrated? More hurt? Sad? How does their body show it?

Find a piece of writing you admire that is 'angsty'. Pick one or two paragraphs and closely examine them: what emotion is being expressed? Is there more than one? How do you know? What actions imply certain emotions? What words have certain emotional connotations?

Feel free to send your homework in for grading. I'll deadass grade it.

other writing advice: here, here, here, here, here, and here,

[uravitypng]

yandere zenitsu behaviour you didn't realise was dangerous before it was too late. he's your best friend and you love him! he's always just been a little bit... too needy... too clingy... too close... that was fine though! he was your best friend after all! but... then you told him about a boy, it wasn't anything serious, you met him a couple weeks ago from the village over and he invited you to dinner but to zenitsu it was a completely different story.

you're leaving him?! but he needs you!

any food that boy would give you would be awful, he just knows it, he wouldn't care about what you'd like. you deserve the finest of foods, made with the finest ingredients something that only zenitsu can give you.

the night your dinner rolls around you cancel, zenitsu became ill and he needed someone to look after him, holding onto your sleeve with tears starting to trickle down his face.

you feel that zenitsu is getting clingier? he's always been touchy, resting his head on your lap, while you run your hands through his yellow hair, or leaning on your shoulder, his breathing always relaxed and level when he does it, as you constantly bring him comfort. now he's consistently holding your hand firmly wherever you go and is pulling you closer to him by your soft middle anytime he considers the distance between the two of you is too great.

people have started distancing themselves from you, you're unsure why? the townsfolk make excuses to leave conversations that they find themselves in with you. zenitsu doesn't think he even did anything bad so he's confused why they're all looking at him so scared. he just wants you all to himself, is that really so wrong? and the people in the village took up too much of your time, time much better spent with him.

"why do you keep talking to my girlfriend? don't you think she's got better things to do?" they've never seen that expression on his face before... on anyone's face. one particular woman with a nervous disposition often has nightmares about it. recently a new family moved into the village from another country, along with them they brought along two goats. one of the goats went missing they hope nothing happened to it but they can't accuse 'someone' when they have no proof, they haven't even been living in japan a year yet and 'someone' must have left the door to the church open- everyone knew who.

there was a terrible storm at night, thunder and lightning keeping everyone up and when the morning came the priest went to open up the church only to find out that it was never closed the night before, the whole place was flooded, pews soaked beyond use, no one will be sitting down for service for awhile... if not carefully treated the whole building could be damaged beyond repair.

you often spoke negatively about the priest and the church and their teachings, 'i don't know zenitsu doesn't that guy gives you the creeps too?' you mummer shuffling closer to him after the preacher's beady eyes were on your skirt.

you often spoke about how you were jealous of mrs dockerty's goat. "you'll have to keep this a secret okay? it's an early birthday present. it was a fair bit of-" your eyebrows furrow- "well let's just say it was certainly some money and did you hear about the dockerty's? if everyone finds out you've got a goat they'll accuse you and try to swindle you out of keeping all the goats milk for yourself." zenitsu's got the biggest grin on his face seeing that you like it and you have a matching one, already thinking of names.

your best friend is a bit delusion... you're soulmates! you're meant to be! it's destiny!

any time you're apart he whinges and whines when he finds out, the idea of going over a day without seeing you?! horrifying.

"those steam trains are really scary zen'! it doesn't matter how many times i go on them, it's just too fast. we have legs for a reason! i don't like walking but still... and i still have a long walk until i even reach the train then i can focus on getting into edo. i'll bring you something back, okay. i'll try and find some of that high quality japanese eel that you like that we never get to find around these parts."

his cries are louder than normal, your collar and neck becoming wet with his tears, his grip around your plush waist is unrelenting and you promise you'll give him extra attention when you see him in two days time if he stops crying, people are starting to stare at the display. he'll hold you to that promise.

"this- this has got to be a joke right zen'! i mean we're friends i can't- friends don't do that."

"you promised though."

your eyes widen, "b-but, this is- you can't actually be serious."

zenitsu's eyebrows furrow, a pout forming on his face, "i'm not asking for much, just stroke it."

you still think he's joking... or you're trying to convince yourself that he's joking but he doesn't seem like he is. he seems serious but that's what you don't understand, you know you promised to make it up to your best friend because you were apart for a couple of days but it wasn't anything serious and now he's barged into your house telling you to rub his cock.

zenitsu moves closer to you, closing the gap and takes your hand in his, bringing it to his crotch and moving his hips up towards your touch. you feel how hard he is. "come on sweetheart, you'll make me feel better right? you did promise." his voice becomes a bit more confident when he watches you look away from him and he catches an almost shy, bashful, look on your face.

"i-i," you stutter. this is your best friend.

he starts spewing out words, his hips still moving and gyrating against your hand, "i know you don't believe in the church but if you still want to be traditional i'll ask to marry you if you're still being so stubborn with that hand of yours. i was planning on asking some time this year anyway."

"marry?!"

"we've been dating for a long time now and i'm getting more and more pent up with each passing day that i see you looking so beautiful."

"dating?!" you try and move away from him unsuccessfully. "zen' we're best friends! we've been best friends for years."

"best friends, dating - same thing." zenitsu's other hand goes to your wide hip and squeezes the flesh between his fingers, a small moan comes out of his mouth and his body shudder's at the feeling, moving his hips quicker. "being apart from you for even a second is torture."

your mouth open and closes in shock. how didn't you know that your best friend thought like this?

[jack-of-heartstrings]

More thoughts on El Toro de Piedra, specifically on Juleka's side.

First and of course, I do really wish we'd gotten to see more build-up and more screentime for Juleka getting a big moment, though I'll never complain about her getting any focus. (Fingers weakly crossed for episode 6 when we get it...? my hopes are low but not-zero I guess.)

For me personally, juxtaposing the song with the fight made the fight harder to follow. Part of that was just that I struggle to watch both subtitles and the action, so that's not a fault or anything. And I fully respect the decision to not include fight sound effects alongside the song, as that DOES make it much easier to watch the song on its own later, but I think it would have felt nicer AS part of the episode itself if it had included at least some of the fight sounds.

HOWEVER, I do think it was a WONDERFUL decision to also throw her in with the theme of this episode.

We have three characters— Ivan, Adrien, and Nathalie— all with very complicated relationships with their dads, all of whom are/were really shitty and want their kids to go down the same shitty paths.

But then we've got this girl who barely knows her dad, met him for the first time less than a year ago, who also has a really complicated relationship and hasn't gotten over the ways in which he was shitty. And unless it's changed in the last few months, her greatest fear is presumably still him hating her and discouraging or breaking her dreams. But her dream IS to be like him, and has been since before she learned he was her dad. And honestly I think that's so much nicer than anything else they could have included. Someone like Marinette who just has a good relationship with her dad or even another dad that used to be bad but improved wouldn't hit nearly as hard as a dad who used to suck, who's improved but still has an at best tenuous relationship, yet whose legacy is still what one of his children wants more than anything in the world.

Just. What a good contrast. Sometimes a parent's legacy is imposed against your will, and sometimes it's embraced enthusiastically, but sometimes it's something you want despite your relationship. Sometimes it's actively something that helps connect you and can lead to improving the relationship.

And on a separate Juleka note, of course LET'S GO JULEROSE, but specifically...

Given Juleka's reaction to the kiss, I think I've decided the funniest interpretation of the ship (and thus the one I'm choosing to believe) is that they weren't dating before, and might still take a little longer to Officially get together now. Imagine. Imagine for me.

They're that cuddly all the time. They talk about how much they love each other and stare deeply into each other's eyes. They give each other cheek kisses way more often than other friends do, more than either of them gives other friends. Rose kisses Juleka on the mouth during the Zombizou incident and Juleka is super flustered by it but that was clearly just an akuma thing and she never mentions it afterward, or if Rose remembers since she wasn't akumatized herself then they just choose not to talk about it. They watch Marinette and Adrien be clueless all year and Rose keeps complaining about why won't those two just get it already. Rose marches down and tells the idiots if they don't kiss already then she's just gonna kiss them both. Nobody has this same problem watching Juleka and Rose be clueless because everybody genuinely though they were already together. Except them. They still took months to realize, and then both of them were like "but what if she doesn't feel the same way and then I make it weird" until Rose just went for it this episode. Absolute disaster sapphics if I ever saw them. 12/10.

[emeraldart]

Fighting my fear of the ATLA fandom to give my analysis of the “I love Zuko more than I fear you,” scene from a Maizula lens

Let’s start with the preluding line. “You miscalculated.”

Azula doesn’t miscalculate, that’s kind of her whole thing. We’re introduced to Azula as a character when she refuses to have one hair out of place. She’s perfect. She doesn’t miscalculate.

Her miscalculation is, of course, believing Mai is on her side.

Except Mai has been on her side.

It can’t have been being cruel to Zuko that forced Mai to change sides. Azula does that all the time—she’s been groomed to be cruel to him for years.

Telling Azula she miscalculated is such specific wording. It’s less about declaring her new allegiance, it’s not insulting anything about Azula’s cruelty to members on her own side, it’s insulting Azula’s perfection, the most fragile thing about her.

Mai knows this. She understands Azula and how to push her buttons. Enough that Azula’s shout back, “No! You miscalculated!” feels more out-of-control than Azula normally is.

“I love Zuko more than I fear you.”

I honestly don’t doubt Mai loves Zuko. They’re both trapped in an awful situation, and they’ve been friends since childhood. But I fail to see it as romantic. In fact, while Mai appears to be the one with the crush on him as a little kid, she shuts down most—if not all—Zuko’s attempts at romance.

While it could be a part of her mask, feigned indifference as a defense mechanism, if anything, having feelings for Zuko while he’s on the Fire Nation’s side would only be beneficial. (But if you’re a big Maiko shipper, take it this way. Mai knows that Zuko isn’t truly loyal to the Fire Nation, she knows he deserves better, but she’s too powerless to leave with him. So she shuts him out.)

Mai and Zuko have been expected to get together their entire lives. It’s beneficial for her to have feelings for him. As beneficial as her indifference is. But she doesn’t.

We see her smile at Ty Lee in the comics, sometimes, but she also jokes with Azula in her proper introduction. “Please tell me you’re here to kill me.” Mai has a sense of humor! It’s just reserved for Azula!

So. Assuming Mai doesn’t love Zuko romantically, and assuming she does love Azula romantically, this sentence takes on a new meaning.

Azula controls people constantly through fear. It’s why she’s more afraid of her mother loving her than fearing her. She doesn’t get love, she gets fear. This is also why she craves Ozai’s affection to such an extent. He’s the only one who loves her. (Well, he doesn’t, but she’s useful to him, and that’s the second best thing.)

Ty Lee doesn’t appear to be an exception. Azula threatens Ty Lee to get her to join. But she doesn’t really threaten Mai, unless I’m remembering wrong. Mai and Ty Lee are her closest friends, the closest equivalent she has to love even if she probably doesn’t view it that way.

Azula has consistently been rejected for her brother, with the exception of Ozai. Iroh and her mother both seem to hold affection for Zuko, but fear for her—although, we don’t see much of Ursa, so it’s hard to say if that’s only her perception or actual reality.

If Mai and Azula are close, Mai would know this.

“I love Zuko,” is an automatic way of saying I don’t love you because Azula has been taught that love is finite, and must be split between her and Zuko. Then “-more than I fear you,” immediately removes the element of fear that Azula has over Mai.

Mai removes three elements of Azula’s power: her perfection, her superiority over Zuko, and the fear others have over her.

Mai knows Azula, and knows how to hurt her.

She’s rejecting Azula to defeat her, and it kills Azula inside.

[beef-brisket]

Just when Adam thought his shame couldn't get worse, he had to call Lucifer master. Everything's really gone to shit since that last extermination, and at this point, Adam wishes he could go back in time.

Lucifer: Very good! Now, eat up, you're training is starting today and we don't want to be late!

Adam: Training?! Wait- what training?

Lucifer smirked: You may have been given the title of mistress, but you are nowhere near to fulfil that role-.

Adam: Role?! You're literally calling me your side piece, and I, what? I'm meant to roll over? And let you use me or something?!

Lucifer: Oh, don't get dramatic. If I'm honest, I'm not sure of the extent of this relationship. But what I do know is that you're not going anywhere.

With that, Lucifer stood and walked out of the room, leaving Adam alone. He wasn't sure what this training was, but he already didn't like it.

-

After another shower, Adam pulled on his gown given to him by Lucifer and walked out of the room. This place is still a maze, but he knows how to at least get to the kitchen.

But, as he walked closer, he heard voices. Fuck, he really didn't want to see anyone, it was bad enough Lucifer was stalking around. But before he could turn away, Lucifer called his name from the kitchen. Hoe did that fucker even know he was there?

Sighing, Adam walked in, preparing for whatever bullshit Lucifer had prepared for him. What he didn't expect was some imp I'm the tallest heels Adam had ever seen, standing next to Lucifer. The king had some shit eating grin on his face.

Lucifer: There you are! No use talking out in the hallway, hm?

Before Sdam could say anything, the imp spoke up: This is him? A tad underwhelming, but I work with this one.

Adam: Underwhelming-?!

Imp: You're not wrong, Your Highness, he has an issue with speaking out of turn... don't worry, I can't fix that right up.

Lucifer smiled widely: Excellent, Stella! Now, I do warn you. This one is a tad on the spoiled side.

Stella: That's no issue, sir. I've done work with some of the most elite of Hell, helping them with their side whores. And this one looks like an easy fix.

Adam growled: Stop talking about me like I'm not here-! Ow!

The first man pulled his hand back after Stella slapped it with a ruler. Where the fuck did that come from?

Stella: Mistresses don't speak without permission. Just because the king has been kind to you does not give you the right to use that kindness to your advantage! The king could throw you out like yesterday's trash, isn't that right, sir?

Lucifer: Spot on!

Adam didn't know why, but hearing Lucifer agree with her hurt more than the stink on his hand. They may not have been friends for the last 10 thousand years, but did that really mean the king was fine embarrassing him like this?

The first man already wanted to curl up and die whenever he thought about all of those sinners fucking him and now he has to go through some side whore training? Why was that even a thing?

The imp walked over to him, making Adam take one step back: Remember this, Adam. Here, you are nothing. Your titles don't mean anything. You're just a bland, human looking sinner with sex demon pheromones, which, believe it or not, is not an uncommon curse. You will never, EVER replace the queen, and the king feels nothing for you in terms of romantic feelings. You are nothing. A mistress. With my lessons, you will learn how to service the king, follow orders, and be silent unless given permission. Understood? Good. Follow me, the first lesson is about to begin.

Adam's mind was swimming, and his already fragile ego was crumbling even more: First lesson-?

Stella: Quiet! You will learn how to walk in appropriate footwear and how to tidy yourself up for your king. Come along.

Lucifer was feeling quite content with how Stella was handling Adam. But, he should hopefully be still a little worn down from these last days.

Of course, Lucifer's pride in this whole situation didn't last long. When Adam looked at him, completely hurt and borderline broken, the king felt a tad guilty.

No. This had to happen. He didn't want to keep punishing Adam. If he learns a few things, it wouldn't be horrible. Maybe Lucifer could even take him out with him. He could see his daughter without worrying about Adam acting like... Adam.

No. This is a good thing. Stella will fix him and make him better. Lucifer really doesn't want to keep punishing Adam.

Mouthwash

(( @fanofstuff01 , let's goooo- I hope this is a good start 😫))

He never thought waking up would be so painful. But it's to be expected, to suddenly be dragged out of the peace he had yearned for, would obviously be unpleasant. But painful? He hasn't felt physical pain since his time on Earth, so why was he feeling it now?

He should be dead. But he's not.

His eyes slowly came into focus. He hadn't realised he even opened them. He was assaulted by red. It wasn't the usual red either. It was sickly, pale, and uncanny. But he recognised it. He would care if his body wasn't radiating with pain.

He slowly gathered himself and tested the waters by moving his fingers and trying to shift his body.

He eventually made it to his knees, leaning against a piece of rubble. His left arm gripped his chest, his robe soaked in golden and red blood. There should be a wound, but all he felt was risen flesh. A scar. He felt sick even thinking of his body being marked in such a way.

He glared towards the hotel, its lights bright and more alive than before. Everything he and his girls fought for was for nothing. The building was grander and more magnificent.

He felt hatred when his eyes landed on a tower on the side that was shaped like an apple. It was a mockery.

With a groan, Adam forced himself to his feet. He needed to get away from the blasted place, not wanting to see anyone that had any relation to the building or the family that ran it.

His steps were weak and uneasy, the pain turning into more of a throbbing.

Gasping, he fell against a glass window, having made it into the border of Pentagram City. This was the first time he got to look at his reflection.

Adam: ...What the fuck...?

He touched his face, he looked the same, just more well rested, and his completion looked healthy. His eyes were multiple shades of pink, and his stubble was gone.

Pulling open hos robe, he almost weeped at the sight. He was fit and lean. He looked new. Perfect.

So perfect.

He ran a hand down his face. At the same time, Adam could feel himself getting lost in his deep pink eyes. The world around him disappeared, just melted away.

Adam: I'm fucking back... who knew all I needed to do was die. Fucking Sera can stick her diets- ahh~!

Falling against the glass, Adam felt a new kind of pulsing run through him. It was a feeling he was familiar with bug he couldn't understand why he was feeling it now.

His lower stomach cramped and tensed, his nails pushed into the glass. He felt his cock harden and a strange wetness form, coating him.

All decency thrown out of the window, Adam pushed his hand into his boxers. He was relieved to feel his cock, but he what he felt next was completely unexpected.

Two fingers brushed inside of him, into something he recognized.

Adam: I-Is that a fucking... vag?

What broke what was left of his sanity was even more wetness the further his fingers went back. His ass was lubricating itself to.

He felt sick. His stomach cramped, making him cry out. A wash of pink covered his vision, giving Hell a new look, it looked so fuckable.

Sinner: Hey, man. You okay?

Adam moaned as a large hand gripped his shoulder. Looking up, his eyes locked with a large, bull looking sinner.

Adam: F-Fuck me- please, daddy~.

The sinner blinked before smirking. Adam almost screamed as his whole body pulsed with pleasure. He was thrown over the sinners' shoulders and walked a few steps down the street. Turning, Adam noticed that they were I an alley way, and there were two other sinners behind them. One looked like a spider, and the other some kind of hoofed demon.

Bull: Want us to fuck you, baby?

Adam quickly nodded, and as soon as he was dumped onto the ground, he spread his legs.

Spided: Holy shit- and this sluts free? It costs double my paycheck to fuck a whore not even half as pretty as this one.

He blushed beyond happy that these sinners approved of how he looks.

Adam: Can- take all three of you- please~. I need it so badly~.

Deer: Damn right you do, bitch.

Bull: Holy shit- he's got all the fucking parts! I'm taking his ass~.

Spider: I've got his fucking puss!

The goat smirked: Guess I have the mouth~. Keep those teeth away from me baby~.

Adam: Y-Yes daddy~.

Moving to his hands and knees, Adam opened his mouth, waiting for the sinners to enter him. He was getting so desperate that even his robe was making him moan. He's never been so sensitive.

Spider: I'm getting underneath, give you some room, big guy.

Bull: Fuck, that's hot~.

His heart raced as the sinners got into position. The goats thick, long cock rested on his lips. The spider got under Adam, his cocks head already pressed between his folds and the bull was basically vibrating as he spread Adam's cheeks apart.

The bull growled: Haven't even started yet, and this robe is pissing me off.

Adam: Rip it off- please, tear it apart~!

Laughing, the bull grabbed the collar and tore the fabric off Adam's body, bumping it to the floor.

Without any warning, the sinners pushed into Adam, their cocks felt so refreshing inside of him, rubbing and hitting multiple sensitive places inside of him.

He wanted more. He was moaning and crying as his body was rocked by the sinners. He wanted as many dicks inside him as possible.

For a moment, he thought this was a mistake. He was the first man. He shouldn't be built like this. But those thoughts had quickly left his mind. Nearly all logical thought left his mind. All Adam cared about was getting fucked, and having as much cum inside him as possible.

Bull: Fuuuck~! So fucking good~.

Adam was good. Adam was the best they were ever going to get. And he wanted all of Pride to know that to. For them to line up and each take a turning using and filling him. He nearly came from the thought alone.

He was definitely going to need some mouthwash after this.