#and there might be something wrong with my thyroid so my body is falling apart

[ultraviolencced]

not doin good lads

[tenderlyrenjun]

the one with the morning classes

summary: you don’t really want to go to class, and Yangyang half-agrees.

↛ ↛ ↛ psych major!Yangyang x art history major!reader

↛ ↛ older female reader, college au, mentions of alcohol, yearning, best friends to lovers/ish, smut (18+) - there is literally sex in every scene, best friend!ten on both sides, study dates, love confessions in bed

↛ word count: 11,9k (I am so sorry lmao)

part one > part two > part three

if you are under 18 and interact with this at all, i will block you

An obnoxious ringing interrupts your day, way too early, and you whine at it, suddenly reminded about the terrible decision that you made last year with the on-call academic advisor: selling your soul to Satan, or, as they phrased it, taking an 8 A.M. class. The default iPhone ringtone seems especially heartless right now, even though you have a class at this time every semester.

Still, it takes Herculean effort to pull your hot, sweaty face out of the pillows and actually get a breath of fresh air. You inhale once, twice, then support yourself on your elbows, tossing all your messy hair over your bare back, like a curtain, to draw it away from your cheeks. The sunlight makes you squint, not having given you enough time to adjust to it yet, because laying in bed, naked, is so much more enticing than actually waking up. Unfortunately, the ringing persists, getting louder, you think. You find yourself clawing through the sheets again, in search of that damn alarm. And when you do find it, screen faced down, you hit snooze via power button, giving yourself extra time before class.

After the annoying sound stops, Yangyang leans toward your naked shoulder, his d!ck thrusting in you at a further angle. He kisses the tip your spine with slightly parted lips, peppering more along your deltoid muscles, directed by his trailing tongue. You cannot tell was tingles more – the goosebumps left in his wake, or the blood rushing to your vulva, caused by the nipping at your skin. Yangyang finds a more permanent spot (that would be hidden by a shirt) above your collarbone and sucks deeper for a few seconds. Instinctively, you drop your cheek into the sheets again and swirl your ass up, before propping your lower body on your knees. His groans fall with you, and he nearly did too, but he stands on his hands. You are very aware of his strength, especially now as you close your eyes and he reverses your moves, grinding his hips forward. One of his hands reaches forward to grab your face and finally kiss you. He is slow and head spinning, and he continuously inclines his head at varying degrees to keep the embrace going.

Then, your phone goes off again and you break the kiss.

“We need to get – Oh, God.” Your forehead redirects onto the mattress, and your breath becomes shallow, cracked by sharp whines blurring out the alarm. As far as you are concerned, Yangyang is all consuming, from the way he kisses you to the way he makes you feel. “Ah, right there, please.” He squeezes your ass, fingers drilling deeply into your skin. His touch feels better than a massage, you think, almost loosening up all your muscle tension.

“So naughty,” Yangyang whispers, strongly. He sounds masculine without being so aggressive. It is very sexy of him. You try to show him, too, that he is hot, by reacting more enthusiastically. Unlike him, you say it silently and hope he knows. He replies, slapping your butt again, and smirks when you moan. “Wanna play hooky? You still, fuck –“ His breath drops, voice getting lower, huskier. He propels his d!ck shallowly, at the same pace your mouth widens in an ‘O’ shape. “- remember your manners.”

“Mmm hmm,” you agree. You roll your hips side to side, slowly stretching as if coming out of child’s position in yoga. It similarly feels satisfactory, like an injection of morphine. “We really need to get up. I have class; you ­– shit –“ His thrust pushes you forward, muting your counterarguments. “- you have class soon.”

Yangyang combs your baby hairs onto your opposite shoulder, gently nibbling around your thyroid, and you whine, knowing that you have an easily swayed mindset right now. “It doesn’t sound like you want to get up yet.” He guides your hips like a figure eight motion. His hand comes around front, between your thighs, holding on in a way that allows him to stimulate your clit with his index and thumb. Every movement gets more intense: the speed, the pressure, even the direction of his fingers, as he elongates all the sensations. It feels like he gets bigger too, lunging more alert with his thrusts. “You need a good wake up call, huh?”

You nod, eagerly, biting your lip. “Mmhmm, my morning ritual is, is really long, fuck.”

Yangyang smirks, motivated even more by the double entendre. And the way his tip rasps against your walls, oh god. You ball the sheets into your fists, putting a protective layer between your nails and palm because he gradually becomes erratic. He comes down to your ear, using his lips to bite at it while whispering, “Wanna turn off the alarm?”

“Hmm?” You open your eyes. “Oh, right.” It doesn’t feel like it has been nine minutes. So, after you pick your phone up again, you turn it over to look at the alarm settings, but it is replaced by the call acceptance slider. You blink a couple times and try getting a clearer look – which is difficult, considering that your head keeps bouncing as he grinds harder and harder, and harder. Then, the call restarts. “Shit.”

Yangyang stops moving to glimpse at what’s wrong. His chest brushes against your back and you can feel his erect n!pples graze your spine. You turn the screen at him, contemplating whether to answer it. Thank God, though, that Ten isn’t asking to FaceTime. You honestly don’t know how you would recover from him seeing Yangyang lay naked on you, especially after that comment at the Halloween party about feeling ‘too comfortable’ with him like this.

“I’m gonna answer it.”

“What?”

“I have to answer it,” you argue. “It’s Ten. He’s going to suspect something if I don’t.��� The call ends again, and the notification center shows six missed calls. You turn over your phone again. “Shit, he’s been phoning all morning. I have to answer it.”

You partially expect Yangyang to get up. Instead, he comes down, brushing your hair over your shoulder and pushes you into the blanket. You stretch your arms away from him to redial Ten’s number, although your hands (and thighs) start shakily with his moves. The line rings four times before Ten answers, and you sigh, half-disappointed, half-orgasmically.

“Um, hello?” Ten answers sarcastically, on speaker. “Are you ready? ETA 20.” You hear rustling on the other end that sounds similar to Yangyang ruffling your bedsheets. He is trying to get at your t!ts and you let him, propping up into a true doggystyle. Ten doesn’t appear to discern anything, so you keep the phone on mute – which is necessary because you buck your hips at Yangyang, getting his tip angled on your g-spot. He outlines your n!pples, fingers squeezing over your areola. You almost moan again, but Ten reminds you about his presence: “I’m getting in my car right now.”

“Hmm?” Why?

The silence is deafening, all excess noise stopping, until it is just your heavy breaths and small wet noises. You widen your eyes, thinking that Ten discovered your current … entanglement, so you grab Yangyang’s hand, to suppress anymore sounds. It makes you lose balance temporarily, but expectedly he catches you, by the waist. He waist a few seconds, then drops his wrist to your clit, lightly sliding up and down without thrusting his d!ck. You let him continue, panting with your lower abdomen quivering. He has to stop though, because his exhibitionist tendencies might expose you two. You take his hand off your clitoral hood and kiss his inner wrist before sucking his fingers clean. He shudders his hips. You bite your lip. He smiles. Then, he takes his hand back, planting it into the mattress for extra support so that you can actually answer this call, that the two of you keep forgetting about.

“It’s my treat, remember?” Ten tries to jog your memory, nearly shouting. You can hear him breaking through your bubble. It is just that you are a bit distracted at the moment to really recall any memories. You cannot be entirely held accountable for Yangyang’s big d!ck.

Yangyang starts sucking on your neck again, pushing his pelvis slowly into your ass harder, to give you a better reminder: that you are currently being a good girl for him, to make up for being so naughty this morning (even though he also seemed pretty close to ditching class earlier).

“For breakfast yesterday, after the party,” Ten outwardly tells you. Right, it’s Monday, and you often grab coffee with Ten on the way to campus because 8AMs are hell – you have to absorb new information when you can barely see through all the crap in your eyes, and he can barely comprehend his notes from the night before without the morning bean juice. There is some shuffling on his end again, similar to shaking his wrist free of a sweater to get a better look at his watch. It isn’t enough to hide the moan trapped in your throat. So, you try biting your fist as Yangyang swirls his hips, grazing the ends of your nerves. You roll your eyes to the back of your head and hit mute, in order to moan. “Unless you want to walk? I don’t think you’ll make it though. It’s, like, almost 7:20.”

“What?” your voice cracks. You are still muted though, so you un-mute and repeat the exclamation, whining a little when Yangyang tries to get you to orgasm faster, also having heard the time. Hopefully Ten does not notice anything. You think that you were quiet enough to push it off as a complaint.

“I’ll be outside your apartment in 20.”

Yangyang pulls your chin to make you look at him, staring at you to ask what is going on. You mouth a quick explanation: Ten. Ride. Coffee. 20 minutes. He is so close, warm breath enveloping your skin. You take the distance, initiating yet another kiss, essentially in front of your best friend, although the latter cannot hear or see either of you. Yangyang holds onto your chin, possibly afraid of being swept away or falling again. But you have enough support for both of you, and you know that if you fell, he would catch you. So, you kiss him again, and again.

“Hello?” Ten calls into the void. “Did you lose signal again? See, I told you not to choose the shitty complex on Main because the connection is so bad there.”

You put a hand above Yangyang’s heart and clear your voice, turning to the speaker. “I’m still here. Just, hold on a second.” You hit mute again, then turn to Yangyang. “Do you want a ride too?” Yangyang contemplates for a second, and you drop your forehead into your elbow, biting your lip because, after all, he is still inside you, inside your clenching and very aroused p.ussy, where you want him to finish. He nudges your shoulder with his nose and confirms that yeah, he needs a ride. You kiss him a few more times, unsure why, just wanting to be close – something about want to say in his presence, enjoying his presence. He swirls his hips. It feels really good to be with him. “Yeah, so Yangyang is in the neighborhood.”

“Wha-“

“A huh,” you whine, more at Yangyang than Ten. “He just texted me. He’ll meet you – us! He’ll meet us at my apartment. I’m going to get ready now, bye!” you say everything in one breath, hanging up as equally abruptly before Ten could insert his two cents. You drop the phone and turn around, kissing Yangyang deeply. As he returns your affection, you enunciate slowly, “Five minutes, then we have to get ready. Ten is getting too suspicious.”

Yangyang finishes a little bit after five minutes, not that you mind. Non-residents have to get buzzed into your building, and Ten doesn’t have a key to your front door. You indulge the moment, laying on your arm bent under a pillow. He looks at you with all the care in the world, no longer that suave fuck buddy from a few moments ago but a young romantic who caresses your inner thigh and talks big game about all the connections you two have in common, or don’t. Your hand dips to the top of his head, combing a small section with your nails to his ends. Yangyang asks you for the time, and you almost don’t give it to him, preferring to spend time with him here than overanalyzing some stupid thesis statement that you wrote at 4AM. You pout, and pull his phone between the two of you, showing him that Ten will arrive in ten minutes – ironic, you think.

Yangyang approaches your face, millimeters from your lips. He waits for you to flutter your eyes closed, anticipating a kiss, then runs into the shower. It takes you a minute to join him, and when he sees you, smirking, like you have some dastardly revenge plan in the works, Yangyang shuts the glass door, isolating himself in the cold shower. He holds on extra tightly so that you cannot get in. You look hot when you are annoyed though – he needs to annoy you more. It is even more fun to mollify you. He pulls you into the shower next to him by grabbing your ass and makes out with you against the wall for a few seconds, until you start stretching at the lavender body wash on the shelf behind him.

This time, Yangyang finishes first, hopping out to sprinkle the roots of his hair with dry shampoo so Ten does not get too suspicious. If he has wet hair, then it would be obvious that he stayed over. He puts the powder back on the shelf and wanders into your room, towel wrapped loosely around his waist – even though it’s nothing you haven’t seen before. There are a few of his clothes in your closet from all the time you stole them, or a couple mini getaways that you two have taken. After he changes into an outfit that he can actually wear in public, he picks out an extra one of his over-sized shirts and drapes it on the towel rack for when you get out. He knows that you really like his clothes, especially the organic band tees. It is another plus that you share the same music taste. Hopefully, none of his friends catch onto the coincidental similarities.

Yangyang likes that you spend a lot of time in his clothes. They always end up smelling like your lotions. It is comforting and reminds him of all the nights ‘studying’ until 3AM. You know, not that he would actually say it out loud (mostly because he also likes to wear his favorite shirts), but you look cuter than him, in his Kendrick Lamar concert tee. And besides, there is a secondary reason as to why he rummaged through your underwear drawer: he wanted to choose your panties for today. It might be a black lingerie set, but how is he supposed to know the difference between a t-shirt bra and a balconette? :^)

Yangyang makes his way into the kitchen, snagging a mini muffin off the island. With the work out he just had, he needs protein but there isn’t enough time to cook anything, not that he actually could; eh, he’ll end up buying something on campus. He tosses two more muffins into his backpack for later – one chocolate for him, one strawberry for you. On Mondays, between classes, he usually catches you in the student experience center, finishing some last-minute assignments. You always end up pushing lunch until after four, ergo he tries to bring you some snacks, whenever he can. Once, his research methods class got cancelled and you didn’t have any pre-lecture materials to work on, so he brought two cups of ramen. You two had a semi-date then. He wonders if it can happen again, today. Ten interrupts the thought though, before it can develop into a real plan, and he sighs. He doesn’t know why, but he keeps thinking about defining this relationship at the worst possible times.

“Yellow?” Yangyang answers, mid-bite. He shifts the phone to his shoulder so that he can check your notification center for any missed calls. You have three. Ten has been going to voicemail all morning, Yangyang deduces, and if he was Ten, he would be damn suspicious at this point.

“Hi, baby,” Ten coos. “I’m outside. Buzz me in, yeah?”

Yangyang reflexively pouts. “I’m not your baby. I’m 20 now.” Still though, he complies, letting Ten into the building, and his friend is upstairs within a minute – not that it is too far. You live on the second floor.

“So,” Ten sings while glancing around the apartment. Yangyang wonders what for – hopefully, not searching for his secret relationship. Ten closes the door, his eyes landing on Yangyang and eying him down suspiciously, in a curious way. “What are you doing in the neighborhood, anyways?”

“I, uh, bought breakfast at Allen’s coffee, down the street,” he lies, “And I didn’t feel like walking back to the frat.” He shrugs too, trying hard to be as nonchalant as possible.

“A huh.” Ten does not seem to accept it, but he lets it slide when you walk into the room, wearing Yangyang’s t-shirt tucked into a pair of black jeans. Yangyang cannot see why Ten would recognize the top because you also happen to like Kendrick Lamar – one of your favorite songs is King Kunta, even though you cannot sing along to save your life. Yangyang finds it endearing that you enjoy rap music, even though you cannot match the flow or pitch.

His gaze is still endearing when you walk into the kitchen, beelining for the last mini muffin. Yangyang catches how intensely he was staring at you, after you blink at him (and Ten).

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” they mutter, looking away.                        

“Okay,” you drawl suspiciously, swallowing half your breakfast. You fold the rest of it into the front pocket of your backpack and pick up your textbook. Yangyang meets your gaze but you immediately flicker to Ten. “Can we grab something at Starbucks really quick?”

Ten stares at Yangyang. You just got coffee for yourself, even though you were coming here? Yangyang waves a hand, unsure how to respond. This whole secret relationship has gone on longer than he thought it would. It was supposed to be a one-night stand kind of thing when he first kissed you, the night that Ten introduced you two back in March after Renjun’s birthday party, and not even a one-night stand! He just expected you to make out with him, not give him a blowjob in Kun’s bathroom then let him take you back to his room at the frat.

“What?” You look between them. Yangyang shakes his head, nothing. You stare him down and give in, then turn back to Ten. “I haven’t eaten anything. Please?”

“Alright, fine,” Ten cedes. He holds his hands up in surrender, his keys waving like a white flag. As you all file out the door, Yangyang jokingly asks if he can drive. Ten deadpans at him, protective over the car, and smacks him on the back of his head. “Let’s go.”

Yangyang barely notices when they pull into the drive-thru on 1st, too busy scrolling through Instagram while you and Ten talk about an EDM festival coming this weekend. He only picks up his head when you lean over the gear shift, blocking the GPS from his view (in the middle seat) – he was monitoring the distance to make sure that you get to class on time.

“Can we get two breakfast sandwiches, an iced coffee with 2% milk, and an iced London fog latte, extra pump of vanilla, with coconut milk?” You turn to ten. “Want anything?”

Ten furrows his eyebrows. Neither of them looks at Yangyang, and he lowers his phone, knowing that he is about to be caught in a lie. He didn’t think that Ten would ask anything because of the time crunch. Evidently, he was wrong, and now he doesn’t know how to unspin the lie.

“Who are you ordering all that food for?” Ten asks.

You look at him skeptically, a what the fuck hanging palpably in the air before you point to the backseat. “For the baby.”

“Not a baby,” Yangyang pipes up, voice cracking. He tugs on the collar of his shirt, smiling embarrassed.

Ten turns on his side, back facing the window as he stares between the two of you, ultimately settling on Yangyang. “I thought that you said you already got breakfast at Allen’s.” Ten rotates to you. “That’s why he’s in the neighborhood, right?”

A huh, yeah. Yangyang almost tells another lie but the monitor clerk asks if they want anything else, and they are holding up the line with an empty lane in front. Saved by the bell intercom. Ten orders an extra americano, then you all persist through the awkward silence until reaching the front window. You pay with the app as Ten passes out the round of drinks like a bartender. Yangyang pokes his paper straw through the lid. You can’t baby him if he does everything himself first.

“Uh, are you good?”

Yangyang looks up. You have your iced latte between your legs, holding it at the top of your thighs on your crotch like an ice pack.

“Yeah, what do you mean?”

“I mean,” Ten enunciates, putting this drink in the cup holder, “people only put ice on their private parts when they’re sore.” He widens his eyes, posture stiffening and he points at you. “Did you have that guy over? The best y-“

“You don’t –“ You hold up a hand, physically interrupting him. Yangyang should have known that Ten would never seriously suspect him as your fuck buddy; he doesn’t know whether to be relieved or offended. “- have to repeat it. I just feel sore.”

Yangyang smirks at that, but he has to hide it when Ten looks at him, pinching his cheeks down like a Tim Burton character. The look in Ten’s eyes is confused again, and he knows that one of two questions is going to come out: if he met that guy that you’re sleeping with, of if he is the guy that you are sleeping with. Fortunately, Yangyang sees the navigation touch screen, and the time is two minutes until eight and you are five minutes off campus. Ten has to drop the conversation and speed to the art building so that at least you get there on time. The extra few minutes he has to spend alone with Ten gives him the idea to cool things off with you for a few days.

That sounds bad, like he is blowing you off, but honestly, you agreed.

Yangyang caught you in front of the communal office space for linguistics GTAs, a few minutes before office hours ended. He snatched you into a supply closet, dragging you by the waist, and covered your mouth to prevent you from screaming bloody murder. You two acknowledged the thin ice that has been melting for a couple weeks now. And he brought up taking a break from seeing each other for a while. At first, you thought that he was breaking up with you – or as close to breaking up as possible, because still, you are not dating. But then, he saw your face and reassured you that he does want to keep seeing you, even in secret; maybe next time, you two should talk about your relationship.

Friends do not need to see each other every day, you know. Or, like, at least, casual friends don’t. Sure, you FaceTime Ten all the time and Yangyang lives with Xiaojun so he sees his best friend daily by default, but you two are not similarly close friends, especially not when other people can perceive how you two interact. No one has to know just that you see Yangyang just as often, in person. And you do it because, well, because you like him – which explains how he ends up back in your bed by Wednesday.

“I’m gonna be late again.”

“No, you won’t.”

Yangyang reaches around your collarbone, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip until he can comfortably hold your jaw. He draws you in for another kiss, his eyes mirroring yours - distracted, enamored, aroused. You cautiously spin around, throwing your arms around his neck to avoid getting swept away, which seems impossible because he holds you securely, at your mandible and the beltloop on your waist. He inhales upon the next embrace, closing his pretty mouth over your philtrum like a slow bite – like several slow bites. You meet him, every time, at the end of each kiss when he shifts onto his toes, getting too tall for your lips, and pull him back on the ground to get more. He moans, after you start roaming your hands under his shirt, running your nails over the crevices in his body like a memorization technique for an early class you don’t have.

You feel hungry, for love, wanting to feel warm. The sun will not rise for another half hour, but he is the warmest thing in the room, even though you are fully dressed, not expecting to be late like two days ago. He copies your moves, unbuckling his hand like a belt, sliding it under your shirt and palming your b.oobs. Then, you squeal, giggling breathily, when he spins you around again and smacks your ass, pushing your thighs into the mattress that you two are standing over.

“Do you trust me?” he whispers in your ear, sucking upward on your external jugular vein.

“No.”

Yangyang stops, deadpanned. He hits your butt again, like a punishment – his favorite kind of punishment, it seems because he repeats it every morning like a bad kind of player, the rich one who goes to bars and unexpectedly falls in love with an attendee, as if it is a coming of age Netflix movie. He repeats it again until you fall on your hands over the bed. You look behind your shoulder at him, jaw dropped. And he takes no time to interpret it, stumbling next to you.

You roll over, led by your hips, so that you can match him, latching onto his face with your hands on his cheeks. “Of course, I trust you, dummy.”

He looks down still, picking at the seams of your jeans. And you detect his teasing tone, easily, because he goes directly to your inner thighs, tracing up along the thread until he reaches your zipper. “Really?”

You roll your eyes, then make him look at you. He has that kicked-puppy expression in the way the outline of his eyes falls below his eyebrows, but the glint and the gummy smile have you knowing otherwise. “Yes.”

Yangyang pops your pants button undone, mischievously pulling his lips into a dramatic pout. “And you’re not lying to me?”

“No,” you emphasize. You brush his hair back, scratching your nails along his scalp, behind his ears. His smile cannot help itself, breaking out in a way that has you completely immersed. It reminds you of that time when you went go karting with Ten and a few others. You were undoubtedly a bad driver, bumping into the track walls, even during the straight lanes. One time, you made a particularly excellent sharp turn, surpassing Johnny to the finish line. Unfortunately, you were completing lap 3 of 5 and him 5 of 5, but Yangyang still congratulated you afterward – in bed. He also lit up, when you two were just laying under the covers, staring at the ceiling because the stars were too far away. You held onto the arm around your waist, laying on his naked shoulder as he told you about wanting to be a race car driver as a kid, then an automotive or aerospace engineer as a teenager, before he settled on psychology. He kept talking, as if crafting this beautiful galaxy. That is when you knew.

“Prove it.”

“What?” You sit up and straddle him. “How do you want me to prove it?”

Yangyang starts begging for affection, slithering his hand down your stomach, into your underwear. He pulls you into his chest, giggling when you topple him into the pillows, clearly not having estimated the force. You like that you never have to beg for his attention. He always, for some reason, notices you, and it is so hard not to pick up on it. You wonder just how no one has learned about you two yet. It’s not like you are being subtle. Although, the smallest acts he gives you can be found under subtle in the dictionary. Like now, he tucks your hair behind your ear, gaze flickering from his hand across your cheek to your eyes. You kiss him again – only a brief peck, because he inserts two fingers inside you, making you gasp sharply enough to break.

“Can I confess something?” you ask, suddenly braved by an idea to prove that you do trust him.

Yangyang stops fucking you, his fingers flexed still. He scans your face for an actual lie but knows that he will never find one, mostly because he already knows the next few words out of your mouth; he has felt the same way for months. And maybe, at this point, he owes you some explanation, for keeping his own confession unspoken. He wants to give it to you first, before your own declaration. It is something that he thinks he should do, like a societal norm for the guy to confess – that is what all the romantic movies say, right? Well, there is Princess Leia and Han with their whole I love you and I know dynamic, and while that was really cool in the scene, Yangyang has a fixed scenario in his head.

“I love you,” he blurts, quickly, sitting up.

“You love me?”

His heart drops. You are not supposed to surprised. He was nearly 100% confident that you had fallen in love with him, too, but this might confirm that so much was in his head. You keep staring at him, jaw slacked and hands on his shoulders. Only when he starts pulling away do you react, catching his hand.

“I really like you,” Yangyang reiterates, self-pouring salt into his bleeding heart. He hesitates for a second, unsure if he should even be vulnerable again, but what does he have to lose? “I –“ He swallows, still looking into your eyes – “I love you.”

Then you kiss him.

And he lets you kiss him.

He lets you kiss him because of the way you cradle his face, like he is made of glass, like he is the most precious crystal that you have to protect. Your lips get softer when he wets them with his tongue, after feeling confidence in your embrace. You kiss him in a way that takes away the word the love, wrapping him in a security blanket to return the warmth.

“I love you,” you whisper slowly, barely audibly enough for him to hear it over the smack of your tongue as you lower to him. You pause, mouth slightly ajar on his. “Too.”

Yangyang peers at your closed eyes, almost willing you to open them so he can tell you, again, that he loves you, so he can see your reaction when he really tells you. He grabs your face and sits up again. You roll your head to the side, like you anticipate his kiss. He gives it you, simultaneously returning his hand into your pants.

“What time is it?”

“What?”

“What time is it right now?” Yangyang asks you with a sense of urgency.

You turn around, fumbling around for your phone, which is now somewhere mixed in your sheets. The two of you had spent a good ten minutes remaking the bed after the night you had, and currently, blankets are strewn across, folded into messy piles. With the thought distracting you, Yangyang slips two fingers past your underwear again, twisting the crotch area with his thumb for easier access. You pause, sighing heavily, hand bunching up the linen as he scissors you.

“I asked you a question,” he reminds you, slightly stuttering at the end, hesitant to add a term of endearment. Even with the confessions you both just gave, it does not define your relationship and he doesn’t know how to broach it just yet, only wanting to kiss you closely and hear all the love sounds that he feels deprived of.

“It’s 6:21.”

“Good,” Yangyang whispers in your ear as he prepares you to take him. “We have time.”

Yangyang redirects your face to his, tilting your chin up as he leans to the side, almost inhaling your lips. Upon another kiss, he adds his tongue, tired of the light pecks. They don’t express his affection as much as he wants, because small embraces end quicker, causing you to withdraw – which is the furthest desire from his mind, especially considering that he just confessed, multiple times. He curls his tongue, placing only the tip beyond your lips. You check him, trying to catch his tongue but merely snagging his spit. He smirks because you whine again. Was that not enough? Obviously not, he notes after you pull back, breathing on his lips, making him chase you. Your breath sounds rapid and rough, and he wants to alleviate your nerves. Yangyang extends his neck again, craning to meet your lips. He gives you a second to recover, to prepare, panting the faintest ghost kisses across your lower face. Your hand comes above his shaking heart, stopping there as you bite your lip coyly. He wonders if you want to stop. Both of you just acknowledged a lingering more-than-friends adoration.

But then you slide your hand under his chin, making him really look at you.

“I love you,” you repeat.

The repet!tion exceeds his own confession, and he isn’t sure whether to confess again, but you take the initiative for him, rocking side to side like ridin’ d!ck bicycle. Yangyang parts his lips just enough to blow small, uneven breaths. He feels you open his jeans while shifting over one of his thighs, his fingers still trembling inside you. Sex with you always feels so reciprocated. Your nails graze his c.ock erect, your hand tightening at the tip, where you push your thumb on his pre-cum. It gives almost the same sensation as your tongue and the sensation gets more intense. He starts thrusting in tandem, making you clench, around his bicep, for support. When you start flicking the flesh on the underside of his penis (the part that connects the shaft to head), he stops your hand.

Yangyang comes forward, caressing your mouth and massaging your clit. “I’m gonna cum.”

“So cum,” you taunt him, smirking into the kiss.

Your resolve temporarily falters, dripping into a moan that he swallows up wholly. He keeps sinking his fingers at different depths, at a fast and shallow pace, waiting for you to reach the same point. You certainly feel wet enough. He touches that spongey tissue area in your p.ussy that has you seeing stars. You moan his name over and over again, until the two syllables become a tongue twister. He disentangles your tongue, using his own. All those years tying cherry stems in his mouth as a teenager really paid off. He starts making a come-hither gesture, simultaneously flirting with your lips. After your hand ceases, exclusively squeezing his base, right above his balls, Yangyang slows down, slipping his fingers away from your G-spot, up and over your clit, your orgasm weakening.

“Ugh,” you grumble.

“We have time,” Yangyang tells you, “to have sex.” He looks at you through his eyelashes, gradually lowering his head under your shirt, his shirt. After Monday, he wondered if you ever owned any shirts yourself, or if you donated all of them once you ‘discovered’ his closet. “Tell me you want it too.”

“I want you.”

He doesn’t know whether to clown you or flirt with you. The first option would make you laugh, but the second would get him laid. Luckily, you decide for him, shimming out of your jeans and panties, then you slide his pants down to his ankles. He wraps his hand around your throat, drawing you to his lips, and he unintentionally squeezes when you settle on the tip of his c.ock. As you ride him, your walls hug his d!ck nicely, giving it a nice tight feeling that he can’t help but moan at. You straighten your back to gain some height over him and slip your tongue in his mouth. His hands reach out to your ass, guiding your hips forward in waves. He starts breathing heavier and his grip gets stronger.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.”

Yangyang kisses you, pulling your words into his mouth, “So cum.”

“Fuck.”

He chases after your high, under the guise of helping you ride out this orgasm, getting his d!ck to twitch deeply inside you. When his hold gets too firm, you whine, suddenly over stimulated. Your nails dig into his bicep roughly, barely soothed by the t-shirt he still wears. He thrusts asynchronously with you before coming undone and dragging you into his chest. You feel warm and sweaty in this post-sex glow, your hand and head resting on his chest. He traces little hearts on your inner wrist, not wanting to let you go completely.

“You need to stop picking my underwear if you’re just going to destroy them,” you joke, kissing him on the cheek. “I have to double wash these thongs you know.”

“Can we –“ Yangyang swallows a lump in his throat. He feels like he is pulling you impossibly close, even though you are not moving away. “Can we go back to that thing you were saying earlier?”

“Hmm?”

“The,” he pauses, indecisive whether he actually wants to bring everything up right now. He ultimately decides for it. “Part with the ‘I love you’?” He knows that his voice sounds smaller than normal and that his eyes are shifting nervously at yours, but he wants to hear it again, wants the validation.

“Right,” you understand, nodding your head equally slowly. You straddle his lap again, and he immediately balances you by the waist, wanting to keep that impossibly close distance. “I’m – I’ve fallen –“ You swallow, looking away, but he needs you to look at him. Because if you can’t say it to his face, how does he know that you’re not just saying it out of obligation? Thankfully though, you see to be on the same wavelength, returning to his eyes, and his breath hitches, abs shaking in anticipation. You confidently give him the sentiment, “I love you.”

Yangyang tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, watching the way his fingers finish, stroking along our cheekbone. “I know,” he whispers coolly, leaning into your ear. “It’s hard not to love me,” he changes the subject, “I’m the best.” You scoff and push his chest, but he fastens an arm around you as equally fast, smiling too wide. He is a little sorry, for ruining the moment, but his laugh isn’t convincing at all. “I love you too.”

Sex, you think, feels infinitely better once the weight was lifted off your chest, once the spoonful of love was added. And the way Yangyang keeps kissing you, absolutely obsessed with holding your waist, tells you that spoonful is a misnomer, too small. The measurement for an entire ocean might be a better description. Still though, you would never call describe sex as love making, especially not to his face. At that point, you would be faced with an ‘oh, my god; that’s disgusting, man’ – not that you mind entirely, because the teasing smile he uses is so, so important to you, and sex feels just like that – the love part, not the disgusting thing. Although, sometimes he can be quite disgusting, yanno. Ah, he just makes you want to skip class and stay in bed beside him all day.

Except, both of you know how bad of an idea that is, with midterms are right around the corner.

Despite that, he spends the night at your apartment again, staying up until 3AM even though he has abnormal psych at 8 on Thursdays.

“I need a study break.”

You roll the cover of your design textbook towards your spiral notebook and toss the pile onto the floor, kicking the blankets off your feet. Yangyang barely spares you a glance, too absorbed in his case study. It is the last of five, and he only has the results, psychometrics, and summary statement left to write for this one before he is completely done for the week. Similarly, you have an exam on Joseon architecture later today and you are a third of a chapter away from catching up on reading, but honestly, fortresses get annoying to look at, especially when you have to compare militia structures against lower-class housing. So, you infiltrate Yangyang’s personal bubble, sliding an arm over his hips and your head into his lap.

“Does this mean I have you join you?” he teases, already putting away his pens. He pushes all his study materials by his feet, never leaning too far up, to keep your head in place. It gets even more comfortable when he relaxes again, resting across the pillows. You close your eyes, melting, when he massages your scalp, like he immediately knows where every knot or corner of tension are.

“I would really appreciate it, if you joined me.” You sigh. His touch is heavenly, and it makes you tighten your arm over his pelvis.

Eventually, Yangyang goes back to his homework, this time reclining in a way that lets you curl into his side. And you aren’t actually asleep, just mildly daydreaming with your eyes shut, thinking about literally anything (Yangyang) other than structures. When he raises a book midair, in front of his face, you move positions, sprawling across his chest, leg coming between his thighs. You (purposefully) annoyingly stick your head under his cheek, to ensure that you, at least, moderately block some of the passage.

Yangyang giggles. “Am I officially joining you now?” He puts his papers on your nightstand and wraps an arm around your shoulders, luring you to his lips. Your leg slithers above the waistband of his joggers, and he helps you straddle him again, sinking into the mattress to get a good view of the way you look in his oversize hood, in only his oversized hoodie. “You’re clingier.”

“Than what?” you ask innocently, rubbing his shirt fabric along his chest. You start pouting, as a response to his silence. Does he not want to cuddle? You shake your head. No, he does, given the way he pushes up the hoodie and yanks you further up his lap. “We cuddle the same amount.” You lower toward his ear, holding his neck in place, and whisper, “Do you not want to? Because I can leave.”

Before you can even think about getting off, he kisses you, sitting up. “Don’t go.” His hands come under your ass, squeezing as your arms circle around his neck. “It’s just –“ He bites his lip, suppressing a whine, which you can feel clog his throat. “You can’t sit on my lap like this. I’m getting hard.”

“Again?” you taunt. He slaps your butt, rather harshly, leaving a warm tingling sensation that he kneads away. You grind into his touch and kiss up his neck. “We can try the Pomodoro method.” You blow into his ear, shakily, as his hand presses particularly rougher. “I’ll set a timer for 25-minutes.” You look at him with chaste, despite the way you are purposefully making his blood rush. His fingers move to the edge of the hood, lifting it slightly. “Think we can have fun in just 25 minutes?”

“Mmmhmm,” he agrees early, nodding his head forward to kiss you. You don’t let him meet you though, not that you think he really noticed, what with being distracted by your very naked legs. He slowly sits up, all the way, and you feel his d!ck twitch against your thighs.

“Or do you think we won’t be able to finish?”

Yangyang throws you onto the bed and removes his shirt in one fell swoop. “Bet?”

“Missionary?” you ask, almost sticking your tongue out at him. “You’re getting more vanilla.”

Yanygyang gasps, then whacks your butt. “Take that back!”

You prop yourself on your elbows, eying all the naked parts of him up and down, from his low waisted briefs to his well-defined pecs to the rather cross sulk on his lip. “Make me.”

“Don’t have to.” He takes away your smirk, displaying it across his face. You tilt your head to the left, expression slacking blankly, but you catch on, feeling his fingers outline your sides. He slips his thumb between your lips, pushing it slowly until you basically give him a finger job, like a preview to the actual head he wants. “You’re already prepped.”

Your eyes flicker up, purely, as if he is about to ruin you for the first time. It’s his favorite part whenever you blow him – you looking into his eyes, taking every inch of him. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, dragging your lip down until he lets go, your lips smacking together. You bite your lip, suddenly feeling empty, even though neither of you have really done anything yet. “Are you going to fuck me then?” Your voice sounds so harmless, now lacking the bite as you mentally anticipate his d!ck to stretch you open right now. He shakes his head, no. “So what –“

Yangyang spreads your legs a little wider, strictly, darting in the direction of your main bullseye point. His touches remain light and teasing, not getting there yet, responding to all the little mannerisms that make your lower body so rhythmic. He rubs a finger, swirling the ends of his movements to get your hips riding his digits. You whimper breathily, voice cracking at such a high pitch. He sweeps your bottom lip, pressing his tongue softly, making you wish that he would fuck you already. It is insanely evil, for him to give you a preview of the intense foreplay without actually doing it, barely giving you the imagery of it all. You clutch his shoulder, to steady him for a constant kiss and to actually get on his slender fingers. But he never lets you. Instead, he pulls you by your ass, one-handed, forcing you to roll your hips on the silhouette of his d!ck. Fuck, how can you even feel his c.ock? His joggers are so thick. He maintains the stupid, inhumane taunts, kissing the air between you two, caressing everywhere along your hole. A few minutes pass without him changing the routine, so you reverse the positions, throwing him on your mattress and straddling his lap like a stripper. And with almost the same level of experience, or confidence (you hope it’s confidence), you seesaw over his d!ck. He swiftly locks your arms around his neck and his behind your lower back, palming your ass. You look into his eyes for a second, then kiss him roughly, smashing your lips on his.

“You’re. So. Eager. Today,” he says, muddied by elongated spit noises. His eyes are flittered closed as he smiles smugly, accepting your style of manhandling. Your embraces are light and rapid, doing everything in your power to prevent him from straying too far. But his abs get too shaky, too firm, the familiar build up washing over him, so he has to pull away. When he does, you try chasing him and he brushes your hair behind your ear, slowly stroking your jugular vein like ticking baby hairs. “I love you.”

You smile. “I love you too.” You peck his lips, now sitting sticky on his lap. He looks so pretty, eyes glazed and lips slightly parted. You just have to kiss him again.

Yangyang bends your back to the comforter, guiding you by the throat, simultaneously pushing his pants mid-thigh, c.ock bouncing more freely. It slaps your p.ussy, naturally twitching aroused. He is so close that when he pumps himself a few strokes, his knuckles rasp along your clit and you buck your hips for more touches. You feel his wet tip run along your slit, and you just know that his hand locks above his balls, right around his base, ready to push in. But you stop him.

“Let me ride you,” you pant, slowly opening your eyes.

He nods his head enthusiastically, and you pop off his head. You turn around, back facing him as you take off the hoodie, leaning down to graze your n!pples on the blanket.

Yangyang wails. “That’s not fair. I want to see.” He takes off his pants, to be as equally naked.

You redirect his attention back to your p.ussy, using your first two fingers to pinch your clitoral hood and gently tug it up and down, over his d!ck as you back into him. He lets out a loud moan at the sight; it takes everything in him to not thrust, listening to your command ordering him to wait. You brush your hair over your shoulder again and look at him behind your shoulder, sultry. Your mood changes are so sexy. His body moves automatically, hunching over your spine to litter you with kisses, his hand trailing behind his saliva. You take that palm and put it on your t!t as you grind his c.ock between your ass cheeks, sliding it to the most sensitive nerves of your p.ussy. He aids your building orgasm with two fingers, leaning his metacarpal inside of your thigh to rub circles specifically under your nub.

“Oh my god,” you exhale, walls throbbing in a vacuum of emptiness, needy.

You sit up and push him onto the pillows by his chest, then reach behind to grab his c.ock erect. His breath thunders, encouragingly. He waits for you to do something, scanning your bare back for every little love bite and mark. You slowly descend and use your knees to bounce, ass swirling between his thighs. Your hips oscillate from outward jumping to figure eights, to rocking sideways. And his favorite position seems to be when you take all of him, gyrating shallowly, letting only about an inch leave your p.ussy before you slam back down on him. You mimic his slaps, taking your hand off his inner thigh to grip your ass, dragging your nails up, leaving a tingling sensation. He rolls his eyes to the back of his head, recording the moment in his brain forever, then slaps your jiggling flesh several times. This position gets his big c.ock deep within your p.ussy, causing his balls to bump against your labia. Then he starts thrusting with you, pounding his hips up.

“Fuck, Fuck, Yanygang. Mmhm.”

He copies your expletives, adding some bad girl’s and other lewd nicknames, before slamming with some finality. You think that he is about to cum, but he withdraws, making you whine sharply. Yangyang flips you onto your back, immediately attacking your chest. His hands support you like a wired bra and shakes them, pushing the pads of his thumbs into your sternum so that your hardened n!pples remain level with his mouth. He licks one lightly, circling around the areola, then latches on, sucking with his tongue flattened under your skin. You arch your back to him, drawing him close. He repeats the action on the other, but longer, as he pinches and kneads your b.oob.

“Come on my d!ck again, you dirty little girl,” he orders, voice low and hoarse.

“Then stop pulling out,” you whisper, similarly breathless.

“Okay.”

You lean away from him, supported with your hands on his thighs, spinning your hips in circles and side to side. His hands squeeze your waist, jostling you to his chest brutally.

“Don’t do that,” he growls, teeth barring before he kisses you again, croaking the moan in your throat. He drags you close, fingers digging into esophagus so that his tongue and reach inside.

Your grip scratches on his triceps, pink lines haunting his skin. You keep bouncing up and down, until his chokehold drops. His mouth falls open, releasing strings of curses after gasps. He spanks you hard, twice, then grips your ass, jerking it savagely. You change the motion, grinding in tiny, little, miniscule circles. Your thighs shiver, your entire body following. He rotates his d!ck, thrusting asynchronously. And you claw through his hair, tugging the strands rougher and rougher as your abdomen keeps tightening.

“Almost, almost,” you whimper. “I’m so close.”

Yangyang pulls your bottom lip with his teeth. “Me too.”

You begin slowing down, no longer able to bounce up and down, choosing to rock back and forth. Then, everything stops for just a second, your walls compressing his springy c.ock until you break. All of his muscles grate against you, making you feel each ridge and movement. He follows your orgasm, feeling the way you milk every drop out of him, sucking his entire length balls deep. Your whine sounds like a treble, harmonizing with his lower moan. And you two spend another moment in cowgirl position, collecting your breaths, basically fused together.

“I love you,” Yangyang repeats. Ever since yesterday morning, he has been throwing out the sentiment spontaneously whenever he can: during sex, after sex, while cuddling, in the middle of study dates, behind his cup of coffee at the physics café in the afternoon when no one else is nearby. He follows up with another confession, “I want more than 25-minutes.” And it catches you off guard, considering his previous statement and the other, in the midst of sex, or love making, as some people would call it.

“The 25-minutes is just for right now,” you reassure him, gently patting his cheeks. “We have to study. I still have part of a chapter left to read.”

“Then say it back.”

You pull his face to yours, brushing your noses together. “I love you,” you tell him slowly, enunciating every syllable.

“So, spend the night at my place tomorrow,” he requests. His arms come behind your lower back, his eyes pouting like a lamb.

“Of course,” you answer impulsively, immediately going to kiss him after. Then you pull away, stopping him on the shoulders. “Wait. You have roommates. You have six roommates.”

“Four,” he corrects you – Sicheng graduated last year and moved in with Yuta. “We’ll be fine. Dejun is going with Kun to some conference; I don’t remember what. Hendery is staying at an AirBnB before the EDM festival this weekend. Lucas is …” Yangyang bites his cheek, trying to recall his roomates’ schedules. “I think he’s going on a date. I don’t know, but he bought roses and they’re sitting in the fridge. And Renjun … Renjun …” Yangyang swallows. He almost forgot about the tidbit that he learned at the Halloween party last weekend.

“Renjun what?” you ask, pecking him lightly and chastely.

“Won’t be there either.” Yangyang stops you. “Can I ask you a serious question?”

You sense the serious tone and straighten up, clasping your hands around his neck. “What’s up?” you prod slowly.

“Did you really like him?” he questions so softly that you almost do not hear him. “Renjun?” he clarifies after you stay quiet (even though it was just a few seconds).

“Yeah,” you answer quietly, not entirely sure if you even want him to hear you, the ambience settling into something melancholier. “But I love you.”

It seems like he ignores you.

“Why didn’t you get with him?”

“You don’t mean that.”

You shake your head, pulling back, your eyes painfully dry. All the fuzzy spots from your orgasm earlier connect the dots in your head, and you wonder what this is, if he doubts you, doesn’t trust you.

But he agrees, “You’re right. I just … I mean, why are you with me instead?”

“Instead?” you ask. You come back to him – it’s always him, and you hold his face, making him look at you. “I’m not with you instead of Renjun. There’s no compet!tion. I love you,” you enunciate the confession again to really emphasize it.

“But –“

It doesn’t seem to stick. And you sigh with your entire body, slumping away from him. “Does it really bother you that much?” You shift around, biting your lip while his soft c.ock scrambles inside you. He meets your eyes this time, scanning your pupils for more reassurance. “You are kind and smart and hard-working and insanely talented, and … and I love you.” He stays quiet, and you almost throttle him, needing a bit of affection too. “Say it back,” you beg, differently from minutes ago. You drop your forehead on his shoulder. “Please.”

Yangyang seems to understand and reciprocates, “I love you too.”

You pull yourself to face him and beam, mirroring his tender gummy smile. Then, you kiss him again, toppling him into the pillows. He rolls you over, causing you to giggle loudly as he peppers small bites along your cheeks, across your nose, and whispers the same confession on loop.

“I love you,” he ends, kissing you deeply. He comes up for air, inhaling sharply. “So, stay the night with me tomorrow – tonight. At my place.” He brushes your hair away from your face, to get a better look at the sweet glaze in your eyes. You think that you fall in love a little more, especially with all his domestic acts.

“Okay,” you agree.

“Okay,” he repeats. “Okay.” He nods his head, smiling wider, if possible, and kisses you over and over and over again.

Funny thing about Fridays: Yangyang doesn’t have a morning class, doesn’t have class at all actually; meanwhile, you have another art history class, at eight. The damn class is 90-minutes, so it is held three times a week. His lectures, you recall bitterly, go on for 2-3 hours each, granting him the three day weekend that every college student desires, pushing his classes to the first four business days of the week. That means he can stay up all night Thursday to Saturday, gaming for long hours into the night – not that you get to see it often, because when you do stop by the frat house, you spend time with anyone else. And usually, someone is visiting at the same time. You know, you write yourself into Xiaojun and Sicheng’s pool compet!tion, or watch moves with Lucas, but tonight (really morning, considering that it is 1 A.M.), you sit with Yangyang in his wide gaming chair, thumbing at The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild (BotW) while he plays Overwatch with Haechan and Jeno. Thankfully, you don’t have any major assignments due later or any in-class presentations, so you can just curl up next to your boyfriend and pull an all-nighter, stealing snacks and drinks from his new mini-fridge so that you can avoid accidentally bumping into one of his roommates. Although, you Uber’ed to his place with a box of friend chicken and side dishes.

After the same gold lynel kills of Link for the third time in a row (the one in the Hebra region, outside the shrine, that has a sword you want), you lazily toss the controller onto his desk. Dying again and again gets frustrating, and you need to relieve the buzz. So, you turn to Yangyang, who looks to be in the middle of a campaign (is that what his levels are called?), and start asking him questions about his video game. Like, you know how sometimes people get so desperately horny that they ask their partner to explain Overwatch to them? Yeah, that is exactly how this feels, as Yangyang’s distracted voice describes his location and next move. And it is no wonder that he is a psych major – he is good at communication.

“What does that character do?” you whisper-ask, while the screen refreshes after he wins a battle.

“That’s an attacker.”

“A huh,” you nod along. You vaguely know what that means, based on the t!tle and all your years of the Club Penguin Card Jitsu game. “And that one?”

Yangyang removes his headset to around his neck and faces you, grinning sideways. “Are we sharing interests right now?” He pushes your legs apart, then straddles you over his thigh. His desk separates you and the game, pressing a fine line between the bones in your spinal cord. He turns the microphone down, muting himself from his friends. It is one thing for the two of you to be alone in the frat house and another for his close friends to physically hear you in his arms. “Or are you just needy for my attention?” Yangyang pulls one hand on your skin, rubbing small soothing circles. “That’s a sign of a relationship, you know.” He leans into your ear, whispering, “Like a date.”

You push him against the chair cushions, scrunching your nose at his laughter. “As if we haven’t done that already,” you say sarcastically, rolling your eyes for emphasis.

“What?” he asks. “Go on a date?”

You nod your head. Neither of you really call these types of things dates, but they are. Sometimes you also hang out in public, alone, maybe holding hand or kissing, even though lately it seems like you stay inside and study and have sex all the time. Actually, there is a rave going on this weekend with one of your favorite DJs – one shared equally by the two of you. You have yet to invite Yangyang, but now seems like a good time.

“You don’t really care about my games,” he pouts, “Do you?”

“I’m sorry,” you agree, pouting with him. “I don’t speak nerd.”

Yangyang gasps, sitting up straighter. “It’s not a nerd thing! It’s a game of strategy!”

You shake your head, still not understanding. “I don’t speak virgin either.”

He slaps your ass. “We both know that isn’t true.”

“Am I supposed to be the virgin, in this scenario?”

“Are you becoming a born-again virgin?”

You shrug. “What would you do if I did?” You completely straddle his lap, scooting up his thighs until his d!ck sits at attention between your abdomens, and you whisper in his ear, “Would you leave me?” You bite his ear, softly licking the external side then blowing on it. “Would you ruin me? Take it away?”

“Virginity is a social construct,” he reminds you, growling. He slips his hands into your underwear. “I’ll ruin you right now.”

Except, another round on his game loads, and you find yourself leaning onto his shoulder opposite the microphone so that he can play, despite the insane wetness soaking your underwear right now. Then, two more games go by and you want his attention. He asked you to stay the night with him, and this doesn’t necessarily feel like that. So, you get off his lap, slithering down his legs onto the ground, onto your knees.

First, you untie his pants and spring his d!ck out. It’s not difficult, because (1) he has pyjama bottoms on, and (2) he manspreads like a motherfucker, giving you easy access. Then, the blow job starts. You lick your palm a couple times and angle his tip in your mouth, starting soft. His legs tense momentarily, making you consider stopping, but a hand appears, pushing you halfway down his length.

“You look so pretty down there, angel.”

He obviously did not actually look at you; you know because he usually makes eye contact when he is close to cumming, enjoying the way your eyes glass over. And because his keyboard continues clicking.

You continue on that way – keeping one hand squeezed halfway down his d!ck; hollowing your cheeks, adding extra suction all over his tip; flattening your tongue on the underside and rolling it like sushi at the very top. Despite his d!ck being fully erect in your mouth, his attention is less than enthusiastic, fingers working diligently on those numbers. It gives you an idea. You start bobbing your head faster, in tune with his typing, egged on by his compet!tiveness. And when his voice goes up an octave, your grip gets tighter, only slacking when you drop back down halfway. His groan echoes in your ear, sounding like he lost (whatever that means), so you pull off. He breathes a little bit harder after the smacking sound falls from your lips, preceding all the fluttering little kisses down his shaft. You hold his d!ck up and lick one stripe up between his balls, and he shouts at his friends:

“Alright! I’m done for the night. Play tomorrow. Bye!”

Yangyang pulls you to your feet, standing with you. He scans your eyes, pulling you closer and closer, debating whether to kiss you or not; he never really kisses you after you suck his d!ck, unless he eats you out too.

“Bed now,” he orders you in whispers, patting your butt a little too hard. You fall onto his queen-sized mattress stomach down, bouncing with his fluffy duvet. He kneels next to you, lifting his sweater off your thighs and spanking you again, three times. Each smack precedes a loud, high-pitched gasp. “You’re so needy.”

“Fuck,” you mutter at a particularly hard hit, his hand slipping to the wet p.ussy lips that need some friction. “Is that a bad thing?”

A door shuts loudly down the hall, making you two straighten up in attention. You prop yourself forward on your elbows, staring at the door. Yangyang watches your reaction, his ears alert and back facing the door. You hear Hendery walking up the stairs, something jangling with him, like keys or plates. A second pair of feet march with him, making you look at Yangyang. He shrugs his shoulders, shaking his head; he thought everyone was going to be gone this weekend, which does not apparently start on Fridays for his roommates.

“You’re going to need to be quiet,” he whispers. This is nothing new. The two of you constantly fuck, like rabbits, regardless if anyone can hear you, but Hendery is two rooms down and Yangyang is sliding two fingers knuckle deep until hitting the urethral sponge. His curling has your thighs tensing to the point of shaking. As he settles between your legs (not letting up on the pressure), he taps your sternum twice, telling you to keep still and quiet.

But you moan. It just comes out, not something that you can control. Especially when he nips all around your clit, lip biting at your skin and sucking small bruises. He keeps going like this, nodding his head for more vibrations everywhere except the most sensitive spot. Your breath gets more labored, breaking loudly.

“You need to be quieter,” he reminds you.

“Mmm, I can’t. You’ll have to move slower.”

Yangyang speeds up his fingers. “Not a chance.” He swipes his thumb across your clit once, then twice, then harder, giving it a little pinch. “Even if you cum, I’m still going.”

You whine, disagreeing. “Mmm mmm, you can’t say things like that. Fuck –“ He starts crawling over your body, peppering light touches along your stomach, around your b.oobs, above your collarbone. “- I want to cum.” You mewl, again frustrated, because he pulls his fingers out. He gestures you to shush, putting them in your mouth. With his hands occupied around your face and throat, his d!ck jostles, sliding between your p.ussy lips without actually entering. “Please,” you beg, “I want to cum so bad.”

“Ugh,” Yangyang moans in your ear, this time guiding himself inside your warm and aching hole. “I know,” he tells you. “I can feel it.” He rotates onto his side, propping up one of his legs to get into an easier position where he can pound you better. You grab one of the pillows, briefly arresting it with your nails acting like handcuffs before settling it under your oblique. The new angle puts Yangyang right back at your G-spot, his tip abusing the sponge harshly. “You’re milking my c.ock, huh? You’re – You want me so bad, huh?”

“Mm hmm, yeah,” you agree. His gaze fixates on the way your ass claps against his pelvis. He doesn’t even have to lead you anymore; you start backing up on him, motivated the rougher he tugs your hair. “Please, please,” you chant in whispers. He spreads your cheeks, obsessed with the disappearing act you pull, needing to see it more.

“Fuck,” he groans. He cups your b.oob off the mattress, supporting the other one with his arm, and pinches at your n!pple, swirling it around between his thumb and index finger. “Come on, pretty girl. You need to cum?” You nod your head fervently, face warming intensely. “So, cum on my c.ock. You can do it; come on.” He drops your chest for your neck, pushing your head into the blankets so he can kiss you again, incoherently vibrating broken praises on your lips.

“Yangyang, Yangyang, I’m – I’m – Harder, please. I’m so – Oh, fuck.”

He moans your name seconds after, spilling into your pulsating core, and relaxes, chest falling into an equilibria rhythm with yours. His c.ock softens, finishing its workout, so you swing your leg away from him and spin around, placing a hand on his chest. You stare at him for a little bit, like watching the sun set. He peaks an eye open, then closes it quickly, teasing you because he knows that you saw it.

“You’re going to get cross-eyed staring at me,” Yangyang jokes.

“Then let me get cross-eyed,” you counter, slithering an arm under his head like a neck cushion.

“That’s disgusting.”

You scoff, pulling on the ends of his hair. “You’re disgusting.”

He smacks your butt lightly. It is definitely his favorite punishment. “And you can call it a kink, fyi.” He opens his eyes in time to see you pout, and in return, he pecks your lips, pulling away just as fast.

You look over his shoulder at the time: 2 A.M. and bury your face in his chest. “We need to stop sleeping so late. My body can’t handle this.”

“My body can handle yours.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, even though he would not be ready to go again, at least for twenty minutes.

You chew on your lip a little bit, then repeat a post-sex tradition (well, it has essentially become a tradition this week). “Can I ask you a question?”

Yangyang kisses your shoulder, wrapping a leg around yours to keep you locked nearby. “Of course, anything.”

“Do you want to go to the rave with me, this weekend?”

“Like,” he processes, still hidden the crevice of your neck, “as in a date?” He lays across your arm, and you notice the glint in his eye. “Are you asking me out? I was supposed to do that!”

“Oh?” you return the tease. “We can just not go then, and I’ll wait for you to ask me out.” You start getting up, but he drags you back down, tugging specifically on your hand. He kisses you as a confirmation that yes, he wants to go; he wants nothing more than to go on a real date with you.

[unlikelyempathpruneauthor]

'Family support's just so wholesome, i can't! Your writing's great 💙 i have a request (tho it's more than fine if you're not taking them/ don't feel like doing this one): bau!reader losing a loved one, not telling anyone and throwing themselves into work but masking it up pretty well so no one notices how broken they are until after a though case reader falls asleep on the jet and has a nightmare, reid puts 2 & 2 together and comforts them.. idk just feeling a bit moody today, hope u r fine 😊

Hold you in my arms

A/N: hey! I'm glad you enjoyed family support! Im glad you also enjoy my writing thank you so much! im sorry I took forever to write this one up! Hopefully its what you wanted. I did kinda rush the case so we could have Spencer and reader content, so sorry if it is rushed and bad. hope you enjoy this one!

TW: family member going through cancer.

things to know: the italics in the beginning are going through the death of the brother, and near the end is the dream. regular font is what happened or is happening how ever you want to put it.

You were a really private person, for the most part, but with your team, they knew mostly everything about you. Which knowing them for years was okay with you. As long as they didn’t know any more details you were fine with that. Your family meant everything to you and you wanted them safe. You never wanted to be the reason they were tortured or even killed.

However some things that caused death weren't your fault completely. Your brother was getting near to death. He’s been fighting leukemia since he was 15 and recently it's been getting worse. You stayed with him the days you didn’t work or didn’t get called in. Lucky the last few days you had with him you only had paperwork to finish.

The team noticed how fast you would complete them and how detailed and well written they were so they thought nothing of it. Spencer though he noticed despair and worry, but he didn’t say anything since you two were only friends and if you had something to tell him you would reach out.

“Is she okay?” Prentiss asked as the team shrugged. “Yeah Spence is she alright seems like something is up?” Rossi said as Spencer shrugged not knowing what was wrong with his best friend and “secret” crush. “She hasn’t said anything or talked to me, she’ll probably talk when she’s ready” he said as that left the team with that and spending their own free time the way they do.

You would walk into the hospital with two thoughts in your mind. “He’s alright he’s okay, he’s fighting” or “it’s too late you work too much and now he’s gone” and when you would enter the room relief was hit and you saw him eating or watching tv.  

You two would talk and spend time with one another, but he would beg you to go back to work and not worry. “Matt, no I'm staying until they call alright? You said as he held your hand. “Please go back to work I’m fine, I know you’ll make it in time once my monitor goes crazy” he said as you glared at him. “Don’t say that, I’m staying.” You said as he gave you the look your mother gave you. “Ugh fine I’ll go, but you need to call me if anything happens.

Like that you would go back to work and finish even more paperwork. Like nothing was wrong. You were sad inside but you didn’t show. You were strong, well you had to be, your brother was told he was gonna live for 2 months and he just passed his 1 month, this scared you. You couldn’t lose him now. He was your other half considering how young he was. Why do good people die young and terribly?

When that day came, you were called by your mom. You were home so you quickly left your home not even worrying if you left something on, your main focus was your brother. Seeing him alive when you go there.

Once you got to the hospital you arrived and saw them resuscitate him. They gave you a look that said, he wasn’t gonna make it and you needed to say goodbye. Your parents were sitting in chairs while you held your brother in your arms like the first time you met him. He was just your little baby brother and you knew he was gonna do great things.

Memories of you and him passed through your brain like one of those movies. The good and the bad. As the monitor went flat he was gone, your baby brother was gone. Tears just flushed through your eyes not caring if some got onto him. All you could do was hug him and let him rest the way he wanted to. In your arms.

“It’s okay, it’s time for you to rest.” You said as you kissed his head and held on for a while longer.

That was the last time you saw him. You currently got back from the funeral, and you changed so the team didn’t notice anything. As you walked over to your desk you got a new picture frame out with a picture of you and your brother when you were 10 and he was about 3. You smiled at the way your brother smiled.

“Y/n” someone said. “Y/n? You alright?” Spencer said as you looked at him. “Yeah Spence sorry I was just thinking. What’s up?” You asked as he smiled. “Well we have a case, so let’s go?” He said as you smiled back and headed to the conference room.

The case introduced was about an unsub killing young 20 year old males. Most of them were either in college or working for their families. They were good people but they were just killed for no reason. Which made you think of Matt. What if….no stop it.

As you debriefed the case you were headed to New Orleans. As you got your go bag you were met by spencer who was waiting for you per usual, spencer noticed something stopped you. “y/n? You okay?” he asked as he startled you and you blinked many times not knowing he was there. “Yeah im okay, uh just thinking.” you said as he hummed. “Alright..oh is that a new picture?” he asked as he grabbed the new frame with your picture. “Actually it's an old one, i just thought i could have another picture you know.” you said as he nodded. “Yeah, i do, is this your brother?” he asked as you nodded. “Yeah i was 10 and he was about 3 years old in that photo, it was the first day of school for the both of us, he was going to preschool and i was going into the fourth grade” you said as he noticed your sincere smile. “Is he doing okay?” he asked as your heart stopped, but you knew you had to lie, you didn't want to bother him. “He's fine, going into his fourth year of college,” you said as he nodded, but he read through your lie, you thought your heart stopped internally, but your whole body shifted and he knew something happened. you then were interrupted by a hotch. “Guys we should get going, seems like they need us earlier than i thought.” he said as you nodded heading over to the jet.

As you read through the file you were still thinking about Matt, you knew he wanted you to work instead of grieving for him, and you were gonna do that until it was gonna finally break you. You just kept thinking about getting privacy to let the tears to come out.

As you landed, you had to talk to the family of the recent victim. As you got there you saw them break down, not only did you lose someone, they did too. As if your instincts were nagging at you, you walked in to talk to the family, understanding completely what they were going through.

After talking to the parents, they told you Jerry was sick. He had been going through some type of chemotherapy and he didn't go to his last one days before getting kidnapped. That was weird, maybe the unsub knew who they were. But you didn't really know how to back that up with so you called garcia.

“Hello my beautiful princess, how may i serve you today?” she asked as you smiled. “God pen, never change,” you said as she hummed. “Not in any world my love.” she said as you looked down at your file. “Hey can you see if any of our victims was going through some type of therapy, like chemo?” you asked as she typed away and you waited.

Maybe this was some type of coincidence, like god was giving you a chance to save someone, after losing someone.

“Woah, uhh, our first victim, David, had thyroid cancer, and our other two victim, had leukemia. How does this connect?” she asked as you sighed. “Our latest victim had some type of cancer and was going through, chemotherapy.” you said as she sighed. “God why would someone kill someone who is going through a hard time?” she said as you sighed as well. “I don't know love, that's what I'm gonna figure out.” you said as she hung up leaving you to tell the team. You walked over to where everyone was standing and they seemed to pay attention before you began to talk.

“So all of our victims went through some type of sickness that involved them to get chemotherapy, what if our unsub is going through that and by killing them they are taking their place by getting some chemotherapy.” you said as they all shuffled looking through.

“That could explain why they didn't have certain belongings with them. And could explain why some didn't have their id.” Morgan said as you nodded. “Alright well call garcia to widen her search, good job y/n” hotch said as you nodded. “And this person might be working near any of the hospitals, our victims went to.” you said as they all nodded and you were getting ready to deliver the profile.

While this happened you got a call from your mother. You quickly picked it up leaving the room. “I'm sorry I have to take this.” you said as hotch nodded and you went into a hallway.

“Hey mom? Everything okay?” you asked as she hummed  “i am, its just i really hate to bother you, but i can afford the funeral i only paid half of it... And i don't wanna ask you for money-” she said, stumbling over her words as you cut her off. “Mom hey, dont worry about that, let me give you my credit card information all right? Tell them to send me the bill to my apartment. You don't have to worry about it alright?” you said as she sighed and sobbed. “Okay, im sorry...its just i saved up money for college but it wasn't enough and i know you do-” she said as you cut her off again. “Mom don't worry about it. I had some money saved up for him too in case he needed something. It's fine mom.” you said as you kept reassuring her. You then met the team again as they had a lead.

“Hey sorry it was my mom.” you said as they found a guy who lost his family because his wife had left him for his best friend, he was then told he had lung cancer and didn't have insurance or enough money to pay for his treatment. He was recently seen at the same hospital all the victims were at, and that meant he was getting ready for his next victim. He also worked as a janitor at the hospitals, which explained how he got the information from them.

You and Reid were sent to his house as the rest of the team was sent to the hospital. As you got there you noticed the lights were on. “You check the front while i check the back.” he said as you nodded. You had a police officer behind you as you cleared the house. Everything seemed clear, but the odd things was why were the lights on. He probably left in a rush.

You both checked everything as found and he had schedules of the patients. He also worked in many hospitals which explained how he met the other two victims. Reid called hotch and gave him the address to the hospital next on the list. It was most likely he was just living here because you didn't find any bodies in the house, but you still searched outside his house.

You were walking around the back as you noticed humps in the ground...oh no. “reid! I think i've got bodies” you said as reid came along with a dog and they were sniffing and barking. “Yeah he definitely killed them here. Morgan and prentiss just found a shack a couple miles away from here and all their clothes and stuff are. Where is he though?” he said as you nodded.

You ended up finding him in the hospital reid found next on the list. They ended up getting the guy and taking him to the station. He was in the interrogation room and hotch let you take him. Reid was with you and you just stared at the unsub.

“You ready?” he asked as you nodded. He walked over to the door entering the room as the unsub looked at both of you as you sat down. “So uh mark? Right?” reid said as the unsub nodded. “Yeah, can you tell me why I'm here?” he said as you looked at Reid and he let you take the lead. “Well mark, your property is filled with missing people who were filled missing, you know, because their family cares about them. Why did you kill them?” you asked as he scoffed. “Please my family cares about me.” he said as you glared at him.

“Really mark, they do? Then why aren't they here? We know your wife left you for your best friend and he matched all the victims appearances. You killed innocent boys who were just starting their life. You're just mad that their lives were settled and not yours.” you said as the unsub felt uncomfortable that you knew all that.

“Mark, we know you killed them because you were eventually gonna kill your own friend.” reid said as he just shook his head as if he was going crazy.

You two were just throwing the truth at him as he exploded.

“I had to do it! They were gonna ruin someone else’s life too! I couldn't let them go through that.” he said as you too got your confession, not that you needed it.

“Look mark, we didn't need this but we got what we need and i hope you get what you deserve.” you said as he yelled, “you don't even know what they felt. Why do you care so much!” he said as you stopped in your tracks and turned around. “You know what i do, i know what it's like to lose someone, they were already suffering so much, and you ruined it more for them. They had more time, but you didn't care. If you really care, family is important, and losing one is even worse, especially from sickness. Knowing that i couldn't do anything hurts. You're the one who doesn't know. You only know what it felt like to kill them knowing you were gonna live and they were gonna die.” you said leaving as reid and everyone behind that mirror just heard what you said.

As you got back on the jet, you were so tired you fell asleep right away. You were just so tired you didn't know what to do.

You were running through the unsubs home and noticed a body that looked familiar. It was matt. You quickly ran over to him and saw his face. He was already dead. You then were tied up seeing the unsub shoot him over and over. “NO! Matt, no! You had more time! Why!” you said.

“You had more time….why did you kill him…” you mumbled as you were moving around a lot and crying. Reid noticed and he quickly put his book down as he shook you up. “y/n...hey it's just a dream...y/n'' he said as you woke up with tears falling out of your eyes. “Im sorry, sorry.” you said as you wiped your own tears away. You sat there in complete silence. You were comfortable so it wasn't awkward.

You then saw the way Reid looked at you, which was the look that told you he knew what was wrong. You sighed in defeat as you asked him. “How do you know?” you asked as he half smiled. “Well today when you mentioned Matt, your mood changed, and I knew something was wrong, and you also wanted to comfort the victims family. You seemed like you knew what they were going through. And when you told us about the victims being sick, you seemed really sad for them more than a regular person would be and when you talked about losing family, I knew something was up.” he said as you nodded. “So you profiled me huh?” you said as he nodded and gave you a sincere smile

He was waiting, but he spoke first. “y/n i'm here for you, just know that, even if you feel alone i'm here for you always.” he said as you nodded.

He was about to get up as you spoke. “Matt died...two days ago...and the funeral was today, and i'm not okay.” you said as your tears fell out. Spencer held you as he wiped your tears away. “I'm so sorry, y/n.” he said as you shook your head. “spence its fine.” you said as he nodded, but he knew it wasn't fine. “Its just...when he died, i held him in my hands. I was there when it happened.” you said as he felt very sorry that you had to go through that.

“Im so sorry. Here come here.” he said as he opened his arms so he could hold you. You were thankful for Spencer, he was always there for you and you were glad he was there for you for this. It made being able to grieve much easier.

[delicioustrashlove]

To me : a honest open letter to my self. deep breath and open up and express 

What do you know . You went back there again and all though you held on super tight you couldn’t keep him could you? Of course not. You’ve lost your self every-time chasing him and you’ve never been able to catch him.

I thought I wouldn’t survive this one. I thought honestly I was not going to make something of my self . I whole heartedly was ready to give up . What ever happened happened and I could care less it’ll never be as bad as losing you. And I truthfully connived my self that my happiness only lied in your arms.

It took me so long to cry . Once I got back Colorado the reality of my new home, it was such a blur . For a while I pretended you died. To some how help my heart forget you. And thats all I wanted was to forget you. I deleted every picture and every single video .I blocked you on everything I could think of that youd have access to talking to me through . And for what . Just to black out once a week and tell you how much  I miss you and that I love you . I drank my self silly . I mean every event every party every outing I had to be there I had to be anywhere but in reality . Because reality meant no you. It meant what once was and will never be again,, reality meant excepting my feelings. And I wanted so badly to be tough and strong. I’ve gotten my heart shattered a million times by you , you’d think I would get easier . It didnt it was worse . I was so fully invested in you that life didnt exist with out you in it . I didnt know what that felt like anymore . I was so wrapped up In you so blind to reality . Loving you meant losing my self . I lost my self 4 times a year for 5 years trying to keep your heart. I broke my own heart letting you back in to my life so many times . I knew better . But the love I had for you was so much stronger . I couldn’t stay away . I also revolved my entire world around you , so when you where gone I felt so literally like the world was ending . I lost my whole life . I realize now thats not healthy . You have to always prioritize your health and well being before anyone . You have to love you before you love anyone. So wed break up id self destruct then Id put all my pieces back together the ones you broke. Id fix my self and I would get back on track I was moving on I was happy then just like that . One phone call at 10pm where you clearly to drunk to remember the conversation id be on a plane. Drop my job my home my family My friends … quite literally everything just to be with you . Just to love you. All I ever did in this world was so unconditionally love you. I thought I could hate you I did for a while . But I dont anymore . You where apart of my journey and it almost killed losing you but it was supposed to happen . It was part of the plan that god has for me. You coming int o my life brought so much love and bond that ill never feel with anyone else . I will never love someone the way I let my self love you. And when the lesson has finally been learned only then I can move forward to the next chapter. And your purpose in my life was love and lots of lessons and lots of growing . You think god doest hear your heart crying you think he gave up on you ya know , but he never did. In the end you’ll see there was such bigger picture. 5 years I spent going back to you and leaving you. Why did I always go back ? Because loved you but I clearly wasn’t seeing what god prepared for me. He wouldn’t believe his lessons or fallow his guidance so he kept bring ing me back to you so I could relearn and remember why I left and well you might be my soulmate your not meant to be in my story forever . Only a couple chapters . And once you’ve served your purpose to my life that god wants me to have experienced and learned I will be able to move forward. I first must let you go . And I finally am starting to. I got so unhealthy and so sad and so stuck and caused so many health problems to my body . So much that was almost to much to prepare. But I made a choice one day . I chose my self , and not you. I chose to love me and not love you anymore. I commented intently to my family and I mean really gave it my all. I learned that no matter what my parents wouldn’t never leave mom behind .and im going to everything in my power to be a good girl to them and build our love and our relationship . And I think that was gods purpose all along. You cant keep whats not for you . And I didnt understand that when we parted ways. I accept that now . And I know as I continue to stay on the right path god has such beauty waiting ahead for me… look how much I loved you and all I did for you imagine how much I will love the right man. I did alot. Every time we break up I have to fix my self . But I know now its all apart of the journey . All those trials with you just made me stronger it made me braver it made me wiser and it made men grateful for the good ones.  You breaking my heart was one of the best things to happen to me in the end. Because I never would stopped loving you I never would have left you behind. I would have always been your biggest fan and continued to love you till I ended up hating my self. You have the courage to set me free was the kindest thing you ever did for me. At the time I didnt get it but who I am now and what I ve accomplished for my self and how when you try really hard to be better and I mean really hard things kind of fall in to place. God smiles and says okay you deserve this you’ve learned you’ve grown . I manaaged to accomplish that goal of being close to my family . We are so close and we love trust and respect eachother so much . Our bond is very very strong . I managed to get my self too a doctor , I found out I complete sabotaged my health . And oh ya I have 14 allergies !!!!  And some of the effects of those allergies after time has caused a harmful build up to where I was 3 years away form being diabetic , my thyroid completely stopped working . Amplifying my anxiety and my depression . The last month. I was in az i would get sick a lot . Id eat something and get sick . The problem was I was so fuxking drunk all the time I didnt ever thing anything of it. I’ve destroyed my guy and its a blessing that wildly and randomly this doctor asked if she could test me . And we found a lot of issues and also got a lot of answers to a lot of my health issues. Im starting treatment for that . Ill be injecting my self every other day with medicine to help my body repair the damages I have done and it will also help fight allergic reaction and build immunity so this doesnt happen again . I also !!! Am taking my meds again . Different ones but im glad I chose to take this chance on them again . I figured if im going to  put my health and happiness first I dotn need to be drinking and If im not drinking a lot fo stuff is going to come to the surface and I don know how well ill be able to handle that reality. I also like I said thought. Was going to kill my self. I was so heartbroken so so so sad. I knew I needed help and I reached out and got. Now im happy and stable and I get out of bed and I have energy and im so present and to active. I work out everyday . I eat healthy and I lost some weight . My highest weigh t was 168 before our florida trip I got down to 147 , when worked for Linx I was 145 then after being with tj again my mental health went hay wire and I lost my self again . Completely lost. And when I got back to co I was 153 pounds …. I would shift from 145 to 147 … then I just stopped worrying about it and started doing something about it. I channeled all my sadness in to exercise . Im sad go work out im bored go work out im happy hey go work out get that good flow !!  Your angry you miss him what ever it was I worked out then it became all I could focus on cus I learned to love it so Much . I took on running again I put in the work . Things finally where falling into place . I was getting my self back and this time it was better then ever . Better then ever before . I unlocked this door and its been so beautiful. I one day weighed my self just to see assuming id be 145 I was 137 !!!! Wow !!! A week later I was 135 and today I am 133!!!!! Its so cool and feels so good to not be depressed not feel pretty in my clothes. And iliv Amy self. So much . I hope I start working at hooters soon and continue to have a great life. I finally got approved for unemployment and ally back pay and also and extra 13 weeks after mine runs out. Things are just happening . I wasn’t going to get any hadn’t outs . But I was at the bottom thats for sure and you know who was there ? Not tj not the guy you literally did everything for no not him . My mom and my step dad and my brother . They took me in . And it was hard and uncomfterable , but I just stopped going out stopped drinking as much . And did things for them no matter if they where mad at me or if it was awkward.i committed to being good fo them . And I knew it would take time . But little by little ive managed to accomplish all my goals . When I used to be the queen of quitting. I cant wait to see even more of what god has in store for me. And who I become . My skins cleaning up my body is losing weight I more active im healthy and im very in touch with my desires and my well being . I care and love and respect my self so so much. Its like a huge spiritual awakening. I love being alone . I dont feel like alone deserves me right now to be honest .Its gong to take a lot for me to love again but its okay . Not everyone deserves that form me anyway. I worked so hard to me this . To be who I am right now and I won’t let anyone take that away form me. You cause harm to my heart my well being just by !! If you disappoint me disrespect me or hurt me its done . You lost you dot meet my needs your not benefiting and there’s to many many and women on this planet . Ill never waist my time on the wrong one . Ever again. I respect my self to much to put someone over me! And I stand by that now and forever!!!  The new be is bette then ever and its gong to take a hell of a person to change my relationship status . And that cool im honestly not even interested . I dont care to date or hang out or hook up or even have sexual contact with anyone . Im so content with me myself and this beautiful transition im goin through I just want to focus on me and my family and my health. Because this is what its all about. This is what living is. this is life. This is beauty . This is whats important. I feel like im living . And im happy and im only going to get better and better. Thank you god for this life and thank you for giving me the strength to turn the page and start a new chapter on life. I fully trust you and the processs. And that brings me back to “god will never leave you behind” I needed to learn all those things that all may mistakes have taught me . And god has a way of constantly bringing things back Into your life if it has not yet served its purpose or taught you what you needed to learn.  I see that now. Positive mind set is very powerful . Loving your self is amazing and living through god is the best thing you can do . I will always you tj and I will always in some way wish there was a me and you forever .but I cant ever betray my self like that again. That door is officially closed.  See I thought my life was over when you said our relationship was over. But really it had just begun. Everything happened for a reason exactly how its meant to happen . Losing you meant I could finally find my self. It just lit up the path .  God bless <3 no angry  im happy and im I accept this and I forgive my self and you . Life is so Beautiful .

Some one very wise once said … -Life is not about how much you hurt its about how much your willing to suffer. ~VP

Im not willing to suffer any longer.  Except it feel it and then forgive and move forward.

[jewelysmith]

Day 2 - Down Syndrome

At some point in the middle of the night, after dozing off a few times, a nurse came in and said she was going to take Eliana to give her a bath. She asked if I would like her to be in the nursery for an hour or so so I could sleep. I wasn’t too hesitant to tell her yes, I knew I needed some sleep. I woke up after what felt like longer than an hour, and I remembered that Nick or I were the only ones that were allowed to leave the nursery with our baby. So I got up and had to ask where the nursery was so I could go get her. When I got there, my nurse was already heading for the door and told me to wait a second because she was going to get the doctor. I waited around for a minute and when she got back, she let me go in to see her and explained that her oxygen had dropped while she was there. She was hooked up to monitors and they must have went off and she turned a little purple out of nowhere. THANK GOD she was there when this happened! Part of me wonders now if they really took her in there because they suspected something was wrong. They were holding a little oxygen thingy up to her face and said it went back up in just a minute or so. They said they wanted to send her to the NICU for just a bit to monitor her. Ok no big deal. I went back to my room and tried to rest again. She came back a while later and said she dropped again. I thought well shoot, ok good thing they’re gonna check her out at the NICU. We figured she’d probably be there for the afternoon, maybe one night.

After a little while a nurse showed us how to get up to the NICU to see her. Find this door, hit this button and say this, take this elevator, pick up this phone and tell them this number. Sign this here here and here, and sign in every time you come up. Her room was of course the farthest possible walk, the last room in the last hall. We saw her hooked up to a ton of different things. Oxygen, little monitor stickers on her belly, and an IV that would eventually move to lots of different places on her tiny little body. Nick was really bothered by them pricking her foot and getting blood. She usually took it like a champ, but when she didn’t that sad little cry was just too much.

I was exhausted and dealing with the burn of the stitches, the IV still in my arm, and the nurse coming in every hour to push on my belly. I at least got to experience the joy of the sent-from-heaven ice packs. Nick and I were just hanging out in our room when one of the neonatologists came in to talk to us, sometime late morning. He said he examined Eliana and she had some of the features of Down Syndrome. My heart sank, hard. I’ll never forget that feeling. He explained it was because of the creases in her hand and something about her feet. He said they were doing a genetics test on her chromosomes and we’d know the results for sure probably by Monday. I don’t know what else he said, but once he left I just started crying and looked at Nick like what do we do? He just told me that it would be ok and got pretty quiet.

When we had the option of getting testing done during pregnancy to see if there were chances of any abnormalities, we of course did the sweet Christian thing by saying “well it doesn’t matter if somethings wrong, we’ll love her and it doesn’t change anything!” We learned that you do love them just the same, but it does matter and changes nearly everything. What you’re actually thinking is, abnormalities are really rare and that won’t happen to us. I even asked our doctor after he had seen our ultrasound, so nothing looked abnormal? Everything is ok? And he said he saw nothing out of the ordinary. What I was really asking was, the baby doesn’t have any kind of crazy genetic disorder right? Couples our age have a 1% chance of having a baby with Down syndrome. Pretty good odds right?

So we of course started saying those same things. It’ll be ok, we’ll love her and everything will be fine. But then the worries started to sink in about her future, all the things she might not be able to do. Will she live with us for her entire life? How will people treat her? Don’t people with Down syndrome have a shorter life expectancy? It started to become overwhelming and my head started spinning. So I came up with all the reasons she can’t have Down Syndrome. These features could just be random and have nothing to do with her having it. Even though at the time I didn’t even know what all of the features were. I googled “hand crease in newborn premature.” Because I of course thought, maybe the creases just aren’t in her hands yet, she was 5 and a half weeks early. The main thing that popped out to me said “Palmar creases develop while the baby is growing in the womb, usually by the 12th week of gestation.” So that was busted, she was well past 12 weeks gestation. I decided to put my phone down and not look up anything else. I didn’t want to see anything else that could lead me to believe my baby had Down syndrome. I was dealing with denial while Nick was slowly falling apart and making himself sick with worry.

Shortly after getting the news that she was going to be tested, Megan Digger and Myah came to visit. There was no denying we were in a funk, so I told them about what the doctor said. Nick started crying saying he just didn’t think he could be a good dad to her. They of course assured us everything would be ok, and I think I just chimed in with “well, she might not even have it so we’ll see.” I didn’t want her to have it. I remember thinking, maybe God wants us to have this worry for a few days and then she won’t have it after all. I went up to visit her with Megan and Jessica, who had gotten there by then, and then Nick and Digger saw her. Nick had to leave once they started doing some tests on her and poking her with needles. That was the last time he saw her for maybe a day and a half.

We just stayed in our room for a while, not saying much. We would hear babies cry in rooms nearby, and I really hated it knowing that everyone else got to have their babies with them and we didn’t. I also realized how often that lullaby played, these nurses and doctors had to be sick of hearing that. I was trying to figure out how to use the breast pump, frustrated by all the pieces that I couldn’t put together and only getting one drop when I finally figured it out. They finally took out the IV and kept asking me about my pain. Physically, I really wasn’t in much pain at all. My biceps were starting to get sore from how hard I guess I pulled on those handle bars during labor. I was of course uncomfortable with the stitches and the bleeding, but that didn’t bother me nearly a much as thinking my daughter had Down syndrome. I was sick to my stomach, while Nick started throwing up periodically. We would cry together and I tried to be strong and tell him God knows what He is doing. If she has it, He knows we’ll be able to handle it. A big part of me though was just in denial and relying on the fact that she didn’t have it.

Sometime in the evening that first night she was in the NICU, Nick’s dad and step mom Sharon came to visit. We had one more spot left on our “visitors list” that we had saved for Brian. He could tell Nick was a hot mess though and gave his spot up to Sharon, a decision he later regretted. I took her up to see Eliana but I wasn’t planning to say anything to her about them testing her for Down syndrome. But it was all I could think about as I was holding Eliana’s little hand and looking for that single crease, but actually trying to not see it. An older lady came in the room and said she was the geneticist. I already knew what was coming and was not ready. She mentioned the Down syndrome factor and Sharon looked at Eliana like she was trying to see it. The geneticist started mentioning some of the features of Down syndrome, lots I hadn’t had any clue about, and asked me, “do you see all the features?” I was instantly mad at her. I didn’t want to see any of it so I really didn’t even look. She babbled on about what health problems she could potentially have in the future and I was pretty much silent. Heart problems, Leukemia, thyroid problems, and it went on and on. She said “I don’t think you’re ready to talk about this yet.” I told her no I wasn’t, that I wanted to have the results first. I remember thinking the exact words: “I’m just pretty sure she doesn’t have it.”

At some point, Nick told me when he first saw her he thought she looked like she had Down syndrome. I didn’t hesitate in telling him that I did too. And he asked me, you specifically thought Down syndrome? And I said yep. There was no denying those little eyes were different. But it was a thought I quickly pushed out of my mind. That couldn’t be the case. She was a preemie and just born, so I was sure her looks would change by he next day. Thoughts Nick said he had, too.

Something I should have included in her birth story: It was of course overwhelming to see Eliana for the first time, but I didn’t get to see her little face for a while. They sat her on me for just a minute, not long enough to get a good look. Then they sat her on the scale for a while where Nick had a good chance to check her out, the moment he said he noticed it. When they brought her back to me, they laid her on my chest for skin to skin time. I hugged her tight and I noticed her little hairy back and her attached earlobes. I was proud of the earlobes because mine are attached, too. I even remember saying, I haven’t gotten to see her face yet really. When I finally did, her eyes were the first thing that stuck out. They were different; I just didn’t recognize her. I felt distant, like is this actually my daughter? Given that she was born so unexpectedly, way before we were ready, Nick would ask me, “do you feel like this is someone else’s baby?” And I did, but for more reasons other than the shock of it all. I feel bad now for not instantly realizing how beautiful she is.

At some point I started to feel guilty about hoping so badly that she didn’t have Down syndrome. If she had it, I couldn’t be wishing away something about my brand new daughter. I’d have to find a way to embrace it, eventually.

[rueur]

Morning Pages (05.01.2017)

Thursday 5th Jan - 7:37 a.m.

I’m already feeling skeptical about this whole morning pages idea. I feel really groggy, and my teeth hurt and my eyes hurt. I need to fart, and my fingers feel really weird typing right now. I don’t think I had a rough night though. I woke up at 3 a.m., maybe halfway through 3 a.m., with my right ear turning all liquidy so I had to wash my fingers, naturally. I flicked on the lamp, checked to see that Fish was still alive (because he swallowed this piece of grass whole yesterday, like it ran the length of his body and I thought he would choke on it and die), and then washed my hands in the dim bathroom. I then climbed back in bed and tried to fall back asleep but it took a while, honestly. I was conscious of how dark it was when I got back in bed and then felt like something was touching my legs again, my feet I mean. And then I thought I’d have to sleep on my other side because of my ear, but I couldn’t do that because I was paranoid that there was something in the room with me. I’ve paused now. I’m not writing. I feel like it’s hard for me to write about this fear of mine. I only get it when I sleep alone. I feel like it’s a defense mechanism to loneliness: fear of being in the presence of spirits. Because really, being here alone was my choice. Being alone at home, sleeping alone at home, is technically not really my choice but I made peace with it. Kind of. Before I came here, it was hard for me to fall asleep in the dark. I think that when I go back home, it’ll still be hard for me to fall asleep in the dark, because I know that my grandma is at home. Or Bugger. I don’t mind if Bugger is still keeping me company, because I love him. I really do. But I also want him to move on. His life as a dog was so tragic, he deserves something better. I don’t want him to be stuck as a tragic ghost dog. Like when Jasper dies, I think I’ll want him to move on immediately. Hopefully Jasper will live a long cat life though.

I felt like putting a paragraph here to not make this seem as rambly as it’s naturally going to be. This is stream-of-consciousness anyway. I’m also constantly worrying about how I’m going to store this stuff. I was thinking of putting it all on a blog? Like every morning I’d add a 3-page entry (or thereabouts) of my stream-of-consciousness morning page of the day. I don’t think I have enough space on Google Drive, so I think I’ll need to put it somewhere else. And my laptop doesn’t have enough space either. I need to get that fixed.

I’ve paused again. I tried to read what I’d written, but I know that I can’t. Julia Cameron said not to in ‘The Artist’s Way’. Lord help me, I hope something comes out of this trial. I think that something will have to; everyone else who’s tried this on Goodreads has said that it helped them. Anyway, I think I should keep talking about 3 a.m. last night, to be honest with you. I tried falling back asleep, I tried sleeping on my other side, and could do neither. Then, begrudgingly, I got up, lifted the blind an inch or so, and then went back to sleep. Wait, no, I turned the lamp back on and tried to sleep with the lamp on but I couldn’t do that to Fish. It was too bright and I’m constantly afraid that I might kill Fish. Fish is not my fish, by the way. He is a near-twelve year-old goldfish who got attacked, like mauled, by a cat when he was around five years old. Emily told me this. And when they found him they thought he was dead. But a couple of hours later, he started twitching and trying to breathe, and Emily rushed to get him back into the water and somehow, miraculously, he made a full recovery and is still alive like seven years later! This is an OLD goldfish, who has undeniably lived. And I need to keep him alive? But so far, so good. I started house-sitting on the 17th of December and now it’s the 5th of January, and I will be here until the 23rd of January. Emily is my old drama teacher. She lives in a small one bedroom apartment in Northcote; she posted on Facebook a while ago that she was looking for a house-sitter/pet-sitter for the summer and I volunteered immediately. I would’ve done it for free because I’ve always wanted to live in Northcote. It’s honestly beautiful. But she’s paying me, $100 a week. Which I’m not complaining about, I’ll need money before the semester starts because I know I’ll have nothing left besides my savings at the end of this year, if I don’t get a job. I quit my old job and Thailander, this Thai restaurant. They were paying illegal wages. I was getting $13 an hour, and I was also being pretty overworked. I quit at a time back when a lot of people were quitting, actually. At the time that I was quitting, Bao and Winnie (my old bosses) were losing not just me, but also Waen and Doro. Waen (whose name is actually also Winnie, but because of bosslady Winnie, we had to call her Waen) was a backpacker/student from Thailander who came to Melbourne to work so that she could take holidays from her jobs on her holiday and then go road tripping around Australia. In her year here, I think she saw more of the country than I’ve seen. I’m pretty sure she went to Central Australia, and Western Australia, and I haven’t been there. And Doro is a very philosophical chef, who I still have on Facebook (I have Waen too, she’s very artistic) and whose page is filled every day with the most inspiring, assuring stuff. It’s kind of refreshing. Anyway, those two (aside from L as well), were the people I loved working with the most. L was the head chef at Thailander. He was so good at his job that he was actually paid minimum wage, but damn did he deserve double that at the least.

My shoulders are getting really tired from typing this out. And it is fast approaching 8 a.m. and I’ll need to get up and feed the cats soon. I’m a little anxious about that. Emily has two cats too: Bruno and Romulus (Romy). Bruno is thirteen and has seen more death-defying action in his life than even Fish. Bruno was hit by a car twice, and to make things even worse, he has recently been diagnosed with hyperthyroidism, and also his pancreas has trouble functioning. SO, he doesn’t take in nutrients properly, his hips have been displaced permanently and when he walks it’s always with a bit of a limp and also slightly veering to the right. I have to give him two sets of medication two times a day: a capsule mushed in with his wet food, and thyroid cream rubbed into his ears. Romy is the most low maintenance of the bunch, and the fluffiest, and the fattest. He’s seven, and apparently he was a wild cat before Emily adopted him. Emily says that the stray instincts are still with him.

Oh man, I didn’t even finish talking about Thailander. Fish is looking at me like he wants food. I don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl fish, I’ve just been calling it a male this whole time but I honestly have no idea, nor does Emily. Ugh, this morning pages thing is getting quite old. Right now it just feels like a diary to me. This isn’t even stream-of-consciousness, I’m just writing about my life. Maybe I’m doing it wrong? But Julia Cameron said there’s no wrong way of doing it, as long as you get three pages out. I have to admit that the original settings for this word document were Arial font, at size 11 and I changed it to size 12 so I’d have to write less. But I think size 12 is reasonable.

I just scrolled down to look at how blank the rest of this final page is and it’s stressing me out. I have something pulling at my back. Not a presence, just a tired muscle. Then I shouldn’t say ‘I have something pulling’ should I? I should just say, there’s a muscle in my back that’s causing me grief. I took a second to sit up just then, because I didn’t like lying on my stomach. And as soon as I sat up, I felt all the blood rush to my head. I’ve been lying down for so long. I kept waking up at 5 a.m., 6 a.m., 6:30 a.m., and kept thinking ‘maybe I should do the three pages now, or now...or now!’ and kept making myself fall back asleep. When I saw 7:30 a.m., I just had to get up. I was tempted to write them at 3 a.m. when I couldn’t sleep, because I was wide awake and it was technically morning, and I was also feeling a lot at the time. I was afraid. I opened the blinds a little and then tried sleeping with the lamp off but more natural light coming in from the street, and I thought it would be fine. But then the bottom of the blind started hitting the window frame in the night breeze. I stared at it with frustration for some time, timing how often it happened, and then decided to finally say that I was being ridiculous (fuck it! I didn’t know if I was going to allow myself to swear in these pages, I feel like I swear too much), rolled over onto my other side and fell asleep! Who knew that all you needed to get a job done was an overwhelmingly stubborn desire to just get that job done!

Anyway, back to Thailander. I miss L. I miss Hassan, the cute Pakistani chef I worked with on Sundays (11/12 - 9 p.m.) rolling into work super late and super hungover. I miss that whole work environment, honestly. But my restaurant shut down after Doro, Waen and I left. Two of their restaurants shut down actually, out of their original four. Now it’s just the little place in the QV basement, and their very first store on Collins Street. I also miss working in the city, and working in hospitality in the city. I meet a lot of really interesting people. I met Isaac, and Greg, and Andrew. Isaac is a pianist and a musical director. Very talented, very young, very busy. Greg works in set design. He’s a grizzled dude in singlets and he has a big, greyish beard and he’s gluten free. So is Isaac, actually. And they knew each other but they never came in to eat at the same time. Isaac only came in a handful of times though, and while he never left a tip, he did leave his phone number, which was cute. Okay, I’m out of pages. I’ll tell you about Andrew tomorrow morning then?