#because he is objectively a loser and very embarrassing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

a99jazzybean · 4 months ago

Text

Why do we Keep Playing These Games?

Chapter 7: Panty Thief

Masterlist/ Prev. Ch/ Next Ch

synop: College TA au

Jayce Talis... He's your unrequited sworn enemy. You are the object of his obsessive affections. After discovering your disdain toward him, He decides to win your heart... Through playing games. Winner gets to make the loser do whatever they want. You'll take him up on the bet, but what will happen if he wins?

words: 5.5K

includes: jaycexfem!reader, pervy!jayce, angst, fluff, yearning, smut, masturbation, panty sniffing, panty kink, betting

a/n: I love pervy Jayce y'all, it's too good

Jayce sighed, turning his head away to think. How much did he wish to push you on this? It seemed like every time he could step forward, you would shove him right on back. No, he couldn’t risk you holding out on him again.

“I just want, no, I need you to know that I’m here for you.”

Sniffling, you nodded softly.

“I know.” Your teeth worried over your bottom lip. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to be. Here, I mean.”

He gave you a soft smile, wiping away a stray tear on your cheek.

“Why do you think I don’t want to help you?”

“Because I’ve been an ass to you for the past four years?” You thought it was obvious.

“Meh, water under the bridge.” He waved you off. “You haven’t run out of time to be my friend, y/n.”

“You seem to shrug things off quite easily.” A soft smile was growing on your face.

Good. That’s exactly what Jayce wanted, to make you happy. He would do what he needed to keep you happy.

“I’m not one to keep grudges.” He shrugged.

“Clearly. I know if you had treated me how I treated you, I would be plotting my revenge.” You snickered.

“Who said I wasn’t plotting revenge? I don’t need a grudge to still find your behavior,” he paused, trying to find the right word, “distasteful.”

“Oh really? You plotting my demise now?” You joked.

Jayce relaxed, you were back to your teasing self again.

“Who says I haven’t already enacted my revenge?” His face drew closer to yours, making your breath hitch. The man noticed the action with a sly smirk.

“And what exactly would that be?” You said quietly, your eyes flitting between his eyes and lips.

“Mmm, I feel like making you hangout with me is revenge enough. Don’t you think?” His eyes also flitted to your lips.

Neither of you closed the gap though. Just sitting there, with slightly labored breathing as you waited for the other to react. No one did. Instead, you pulled back. The movement making Jayce briefly frown, but he shook it off quickly. Perhaps it wasn’t best to take advantage of you in such a vulnerable state.

Now that he was thinking about it, he realized that you were still almost fully naked. With just the sheet covering the front of your body. His eyes unconsciously trailed down your back, spotting the lacy panties you had left on. Your cheeks heated up as you caught the man staring.

“Hey!” Jayce’s attention returned to your face, enjoying how red it was. “My eyes are up here, Talis.” You growled.

He chuckled awkwardly, not knowing what to do with himself after being caught. Red embarrassment blooming on his cheeks, making your faces match.

“Sorry.” He mumbled.

Though he was very much not sorry seeing you like this. His eyes took one more quick peek at the panties, before he composed himself. He knew he would be thinking about that article of clothing on you all night long. A cute white lacy piece, something he would gladly drag down your beautiful legs.

“Jayce?” He hadn’t spoken for a moment, too lost in his thoughts.

“S-sorry!” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Can you blame a guy though?”

Narrowing your eyes you huffed. You hopped off the table and quickly turned around, finger pointing to the door.

“Out. I’m putting my clothes back on.”

“But I wasn’t done with the massage.” He whined.

You grumbled.

“Well you should’ve thought about that before perving on me.”

Head hung down, he began to walk out of your room. Sad puppy dog eyes pleading with your irritated gaze. You shook your head as he slowly exited your bedroom. When the door was shut you sighed.

“What am I gonna do with that man?” You quietly asked yourself.

You quickly put your clothes back on, then opened the door. You were met with an apologetic looking Jayce. His puppy-dog act wasn’t going to work on you though.

“How many times can I say sorry to make you not look like you want to kill me?” He pleaded with you with both his words and eyes.

Jayce was met with a huff and a roll of your eyes as a response. You moved out of his way and motioned for him to pick up his things. He gave an airy chuckle at your response.

“Seriously? The silent treatment?” Those damn puppy dog eyes were staring into your soul at this point.

Puppy-dog eyes be damned. You steeled your resolve. Again giving no verbal response. Instead, you opted for a grumble of annoyance.

The man conceded, turning from you to pick up his items. A soft quiet fell in the room as Jayce methodically cleaned up your space. Something that he had probably done dozens of times at this point.

“If you don’t mind, I do need some help with the table. The locks on the legs are kinda janky.” He flipped over the table and motioned you over.

As irritated as you were with him, you weren’t going to be that much of an ass. You knelt next to him as he instructed you to help him disengage the locks. A warm hand softly brushed against yours as he unlocked the leg. A small smile appeared on your face at the tender action. Jayce let out a huff of amusement at your expression, a content smile of his own on his lips.

When you had completed folding the table back together, Jayce was finished with picking up his setup. Brushing off his hands, he turned to you expectantly. Neither of you spoke. Your mouth opened for a moment, then closed. An unspoken question stuck in your throat.

There it was again, that gnawing fear. The one that turned your stomach when you even thought about being vulnerable. What exactly was there to be scared of though? Jayce had obviously proven himself to be dependable, but part of you was still afraid.

“You look like you want to say something.” He was in no rush.

Clearing your throat, you geared yourself to be vulnerable once more. Fists clenching and unclenching as you allowed the question to escape your lips. Your eyes unable to meet Jayce’s.

“Would you like to spend the night? With me, I mean.”

You didn’t want to be alone, and despite your previous grievances with the man, Jayce made you feel significantly less lonely. Perhaps it was because he was practically connected to your hip when he was around, but his presence had now become something more comforting than it was annoying.

Jayce hadn’t responded. His eyes widened at your question. Wondering what prompted the sudden shift in your dynamic with the man. Though, maybe it wasn’t so sudden. Ever so slowly he had been working away at your barriers, and it seemed that you had offered him an opening all on your own.

His expression softened, the smile on his face made your heart flutter. Why were you doing this? Why now? Was it all because he had witnessed that upsetting phone call? Or maybe you would have ended up like this regardless of the call. You didn’t know. Did it really matter though?

“As much as I would love to. I do have work I need to get done.” Jayce had battled himself internally, one side desperate to accept your offer. However, his logical side had somehow managed to win.

Your stomach sank. Of course, it’s a weeknight after all… You reasoned with yourself, despite the feeling of rejection settling in.

“Right, of course.” Your arms curled around yourself. “Sorry.”

A frown found its way to Jayce’s face. This is not how he wished to end the night with you. He needed to come up with something to bring up your spirits.

A warm hand cupped your cheek, turning your face to look at Jayce’s.

“Another time though? Maybe next Friday?” He gave you one of his classic smiles, you couldn’t help but return it.

“Another time then. And next Friday sounds great.” That fluttering in your chest returned with newfound strength.

“Next Friday it is.”

Before Jayce exited your apartment he quickly turned around. Suddenly, his lips were on yours. Leaving you wide eyed and breathless. It was a quick kiss, but still made your head dizzy. He pulled away a smirk playing on his lips.

“Almost forgot something.” He chuckled before making his way out. The man leaving you open mouthed and blushing.

That night, it took you forever to fall asleep. Tossing and turning, all you could think about was Jayce. His lips, his laugh, his puppy-dog eyes. You had to wait almost two whole weeks before he would be spending the night. Shooting up, only now had you realized the implication of your request.

Shit. SHIT. While you certainly had thought about sex with Jayce, you had never really thought it would happen. And maybe you did want to sleep with him, but truly your question was innocent. You just didn’t want to be alone that night. Hugging one of your stuffed animals to your chest you contemplated how you would go about discussing this with the man. You wondered if he knew that you weren’t implying sleeping with him.

He did, it was clear you were asking for a comforting presence. If it turned into something more, the man would not complain. Though, he personally didn’t want the first time with you to be spur of the moment. There was a romantic in him that held a desperate bleeding heart and he wanted that moment to be perfect.

Unbeknownst to each other, you both laid in bed staring at the ceiling. Wondering what comes next.

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

“YOU asked him to spend the night?” Mel was perplexed. “You?”

You looked down, cheeks ruddy with embarrassment. Finally, you had admitted to Mel about what had been happening with Jayce. Sure, she had an idea that you were softening for the man, but she didn’t realize you had pretty much become gelatin.

“Yes I did.” You weren’t going to deny it, that would be futile. Mel always got the answer out from you.

“I would say I’m shocked, but…” She paused, a smirk dancing on her lips. A teasing glint flashed in her eyes. “I’m very much not.”

You huffed in annoyance, crossing your arms over your chest. Pouting like a petulant child. Your gaze slightly heated as you glared at her, but she didn’t waver.

“Don’t give me that look, darling. I know you, you know that. And I knew as soon as you actually got to know Mr. Talis, you would like him.” She continued smirking at you. “Though it seems you might like him a bit more than I had previously expected…”

“You don’t have to be so smug about it.” You mumbled.

“What was that? Did I hear a ‘Mel you’re so right, I should have listened to you from the start.’” She chuckled as your expression grew more irritated.

“You know, I came to you for some advice. Not so you could tell me you were right.” You harshly pointed at her.

She gently reached for your hand, pushing it away from her face.

“And I am right, am I not?”

Grumbling, you shifted in your seat. You did not want to admit that she was right, but she was your best friend. And dammit, she always was right. Reading you like the back of her hand. While oftentimes annoying, it was still beneficial.

“Yes… you were right.” You mumbled.

“What was that?” She raised a hand to her ear. “Were you finally admitting that I know what I’m talking about?” She gave a faux gasp. “I never thought I’d see the da-”

“Yeah, yeah. You were right.” You cut her off, eyes narrowing. “But again, I came for advice.”

“I don’t really understand what there is for me to advise you on. It seems like you have it covered quite well.” She said pointedly.

“But I don’t know how to handle all,” You motioned around yourself, “this.”

“‘This’ being your feelings for Jayce?”

“Yes.” You admitted with a harsh breath.

“Just accept them.” She said it as if it was such a simple task.

For god’s sake, you considered him your enemy for four years! How could you just accept your developing romantic feelings for the man? That prideful part, a clawing beast inside of you, preferred you wouldn’t. It screamed for you to return to your original status quo.

“You still wish to see him as an enemy, don’t you?” As always, Mel could read your inner turmoil with extreme accuracy.

“I think it’s easier to think of him that way.” You admitted.

“Easier how?” When you were always competing with him, you were constantly stressed out.”

It was true. When you had been driven to view the man as your adversary, you had used up most of your energy waging a one-sided war against him.

“Despite being in one of the most difficult masters programs, you appear significantly less stressed than during your undergraduate. Like a burden has been lifted off of your shoulders.” She gave you a knowing look.

You rubbed a hand down your face in frustration. Yes, it was true. Somehow you had found yourself less stressed than ever. The only thing that managed to cause you frustration was your course work, which was to be expected. With Jayce no longer being someone you viewed as an opponent, it seemed your body had finally regulated itself.

“Since you asked me to give you advice, I’ll give you some words of wisdom.” She softly placed her hand on top of yours. “Allow yourself to feel.”

It sounded so simple, but inside your stomach churned with nervousness. Feel. Instead of arguing against it, you nodded. Maybe, just maybe you could. At least you had around two weeks to figure it out. That is unless Jayce did something to impede that progress.

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

Impede the man would. The days since you had him over trudged on till you found yourself beginning the next week. Meaning you were going to be holding another game night with the man. While there was that nervousness swirling in your gut, you still found yourself excited. Surely you could win again, and the man would be at your mercy.

What would you have him do? This time you didn’t have a sore back begging for attention, so you could spend more energy thinking about what you were going to wager. The thought of Jayce winning didn’t pass through your thoughts, you wouldn’t allow it.

“And what has you looking so thoughtful this morning?” The man himself had sidled up as you made your way to the physics building.

“You.” You said bluntly, a smirk creeping on your face as you spotted a blush flush to the his cheeks.

The man regained his composure, attempting to give you a cheeky smile.

“And what about me is so intriguing?”

“Ha. Don’t flatter yourself, Talis.” You looked up at him with that smirk. “I was thinking about my wager for tonight.”

“Oh? That’s tonight? I almost forgot.”

“Liar.” You chuckled.

He gasped dramatically at your accusation.

“I would never!”

“Mhmm, sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

The two of you continued to the building in a comfortable silence. Occasionally you felt Jayce’s hand brush against yours. Shivers shot up your spine with each touch of his fingers. At one point, his pinky looped with yours for a moment. The tender action made your heart flutter and cheeks hot.

When you arrived at the lecture hall one of the students was waiting by the door. Spotting Jayce, a bright smile grew on her face.

“Jayce!” She exclaimed.

“Uh, good morning!” He said, plastering a smile on his face.

“I came early, cause I have a lot of questions.” She bounced on her feet, pink dusting on her cheeks as she stared up at the man.

The interaction had you smirking. You patted Jayce on the shoulder before making your way into the lecture hall. The man held back a groan as you left him with his admirer.

The rest of your day went by with no issues. No Heimerdinger request you had to complete. Instead, just a regular day that ended with your office hours.

While you dealt with the occasional student, Jayce had been stuck with the girl from that morning. He had managed to circumvent her questions by telling her to come to office hours. Little did he know she would spend the entire three hours of his time working with him. Other students were in and out and worked with you, while he was stuck with this lovely thorn in his side. Who was intermingling her actual questions with attempted small talk. Jayce did his best to return to the coursework, but it was becoming quite frustrating.

As he dealt with the student, you reveled in the interaction that unfolded before you. It was mean, but the situation greatly entertained you. Especially when you knew that the man only had eyes for one woman. His heated gaze occasionally flitting to you, melting at the amused smirk on your face. Revel all you want, he had his own plans for you later. When he beat you at whatever game you had chosen.

Finally, office hours had ended. Jayce unsubtly checked the time to indicate to the student that it was time to go. You audibly yawned as the clock ticked past your office hours. Jayce groaned, making the girl give him a concerned look.

“Are you doing alright?” She asked.

He rubbed a hand down his face, trying not to reveal his clear annoyance.

“I’m fine. It’s just my…” He looked at you. “Our office hours are over.”

“Oh.” She said quietly, expression souring.

“I would love to continue assisting you, but I can’t go overtime. We get in trouble if we do too many hours.”

Her expression softened at his explanation.

“Oh I didn’t know that.” She went to pack up her things. “I’ll just come to your next office hours then. That’s okay, right?” She gave him a pleading look.

“Of course. Those are the times the school allows me to work.” He gave her one of his dazzling smiles before ushering her out of the room.

When she had left, Jayce closed and locked the office door. The action making your heart rate pick up. Attempting to shake off your nervousness, you decided to tease the man.

“You’re quite the ladykiller, Talis.”

He gave you an annoyed look.

“It’s not intentional, trust me.” He sighed.

“You’re just genuine… most of the time.” He raised a brow at your comment. “And people like that about you.”

Jayce made his way toward you, making your skin warm up. He stopped in front of you, large frame towering above as you remained seated. An expectant look on his face.

“Do you like that about me?”

“Of course. You know I’m not one to mince words.” You admitted.

“True, but you do try to lie to me.”

“And you see through it everytime.” You mutter.

He smirked. A warm hand reached for your face. You unconsciously leaned into his touch as he caressed your cheek.

“So, what game are we playing today?” He asked, hand still stroking your face.

You gave him a cheeky look.

“You’re gonna hate it.”

“Am I?” He chuckled.

With that, you reached for your bag. From the backpack you procured a familiar game. Jayce let out a chuckle.

“And you were mad I made you play a children’s game?”

“This is payback.” You stuck your tongue out at him.

Placing the box on the table you smiled at it with fondness. Chutes and Ladders, a game you hadn’t played since you were a child. The three and older symbol on the box made you cringe slightly, but you still wished to play. It was only fair after making you play Old Maid.

You pulled out the board, spinner, and character pieces. After choosing the red-headed girl for yourself, you motioned for Jayce to make his pick.

“Damn, I wanted to be the ginger chick.” He chuckled. “Guess I’ll take the racially ambiguous brown boy.”

“I’ll let you go first.” You said.

“How generous.” He smirked.

The two pieces were placed on the start space. Jayce’s large fingers flicked at the spinner, landing on a 4.

“Would you look at that! I already got a ladder.” He slid his piece up the ladder to the row above.

“Oh don’t look so smug, it’s the first ladder on the board. I’m for sure going to make it to the top first.” You gave a hearty chuckle.

“We’ll see…”

The two of you continued to spin and move your pieces. Then Jayce was the first to reach a chute. His piece slid down from space 48 to 26. He pouted at the loss.

“Oh you poor thing.” You said, flicking the spinner.

Your face dropped as you also hit the same chute Jayce had. He snickered at your expense, making you give him a glare.

“Now we’re even.” He smirked at you.

Jayce loved this. Even with a silly children’s board game, you two were competitive. While it wasn’t a battle of wit, he still enjoyed your determination to win. The game was fully luck based, yet you still tried to pump yourself up to succeed. A quirk that the man adored.

“Fuck yes!” You exclaimed after taking your turn.

Your piece managing to reach the tallest ladder. With glee you slid up to the second to last row, buzzing with excitement.

Jayce bit his lip in concentration. He could still have a chance. Technically you needed an exact number to reach the end, that could hopefully work in his favor.

Quickly, you managed to reach the second to last space. The win was in the bag. You spun the wheel again, hitting a three. As you were about to reach for your piece, a strong hand stopped you. You gave the man a confused look.

“Nuh uh. You need an exact number to win.”

“What? That’s not true.” You argued, you couldn’t lose. You were so close.

“It is.” He still hadn’t let go of your hand.

“That’s not how my family plays it.” You huffed.

“Your family plays wrong then.” Jayce reached for the rule pamphlet. Flitting through it till he found the rule he was looking for. A thick finger pointing at it as he read aloud.

“To win, square 100 must be reached by an exact spin on the spinner.” He said, a smug grin on his face as he saw your annoyed look.

“Fine,” you grumbled, “I can still win.”

“Of course you can.”

Oh how wrong you were. As Jayce continued to move up the board, you were finding yourself constantly spinning a four. Growling in frustration at another spin landing on the damned number.

Cracking his knuckles Jayce wished for any being to grant him mercy. He was two spaces away from a ladder leading straight to the end. If he could avoid having to fight for the last space, he would greatly appreciate it. Sucking in a breath he flicked the spinner. Sweat prickling on his forehead as he watched the plastic arrow slow. As it landed on two, he jumped from his chair and cheered.

“Yes!” He laughed in your face. “I won!”

You clenched your fists in annoyance.

“All cause of your stupid rule!” You jabbed.

“Don’t hate the playa, hate the game! I didn’t make the rules, sweetheart.”

He had brought back the pet name. And it felt really nice that he called you it again. Heat flared in your cheeks as the man did a victory dance.

“Now what?” You asked quietly.

“Panties.”

“What?” Your eyes widened.

“Your panties, I want them. For the entire week.” He smirked.

“Seriously?” Your cheeks grew redder.

“I’m very serious, sweetheart.” He reached out a hand toward you, awaiting for you to deposit your undergarments.

“Turn around.” You growled.

You were wearing jeans and did not want him to watch you undress. The man frowned, but obliged. His smile growing wider as he heard your zipper slide down, then the shuffling of your clothes as you removed your panties. When you were done, you sighed. He did win, fair and square.

“You can turn around now.” You grumbled.

Jayce giddily faced you as you held your panties out to him. A black lacy thong, it had his mouth watering at the sight. He plucked them out of your hand, sliding his thumb and fingers along the lacy hem.

“Cute.” He said to himself before pocketing the pair.

“What do you mean about the entire week?” You asked, voice dry. You knew what he meant, but really hoped you were wrong.

“Every time I ask for your panties, you have to give them to me.” He enjoyed the way your face continued to grow more red.

“Every time?” You croaked with embarrassment.

“Every time.” He confirmed. “So I suggest wearing something that makes them easier to remove. I like it when you wear skirts anyways.”

“You’re insufferable.” You groaned.

A warm hand grabbed your chin, making you face the man in front of you.

“You love it.” He chuckled lowly. “You’re a bad liar, remember?”

You tried turning away, but he wouldn’t let you. Instead he pulled you toward him. His free hand landing on your hip, holding you close.

“I don’t know why you won’t admit it.” He leaned down, nose to nose with you.

Your breath hitched at the close proximity. The man never failed to make you flustered, but you realized you weren’t really complaining. Even if his bet was irritating.

“I feel like your bet can fall under the public humiliation clause.” You said.

“That’s a bit of a reach, isn’t it?” He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver through you.

“Keep trying, I like it.”

“I’m not here to entertain you.” You gritted your teeth. There was no way out of this bet.

“You sure about that?” He pulled you so your chest was flush against his.

Instead of answering, you turned away from him. Biting your lip you tried to find a comeback. Then you decided instead to fluster him back.

“What exactly are you planning on doing with my panties?” You looked up at him with a sultry look.

“I-I don’t know what you mean…” He stuttered.

“You don’t? So you’re just going to take my panties and what? Look at them fondly?” Your voice was low, making the man shiver.

“I guess I was.”

“You’re kind of a lousy pervert if that’s all you’re going to do.” You teased, fingers lightly tracing along his chest. Slowly you moved your hand lower, enjoying the feel of his abs under your touch. Your hand stopped right at his waist.

“If that’s all you want, be my guest.” You removed your hand, smirking at the whine Jayce tried to suppress.

No, he needed to get the upper hand in this situation. You were the one that was supposed to be flustered, not him. Though he wouldn’t mind you touching him some more.

“Are you telling me to use your panties to please myself?” He asked bluntly, carefully studying your expression.

Your eyes slightly widened at his brashness, but you kept up your sultry act. He might have won the game, but this one you’ll be the champion of.

“Is that what you want to do, Jayce?” The way you said his name had the man gasping. He could feel himself grow hard, pants becoming tighter.

“Think on it.” You said, pulling away from the man.

As you grabbed your bag, you continued to watch his reactions from your peripheral vision. It was as if he was entranced by you. Unmoving, eyes following your every move. Before you left the office you gave him one request.

“By the way… if you’re planning on washing them, put them in a laundry bag on the delicate setting. I prefer unscented detergent.” With that, you left the man alone in the office. Extremely hard, and extremely turned on.

Jayce rushed back to his apartment. As he burst through the door, he startled Viktor who was sitting in the living room.

“Good evening to you too, Jayce.” Viktor looked at the man with a questioning gaze.

“Goodnight.” Jayce said quickly, attempting to sprint to his room.

With surprising speed, Viktor had managed to snag an item from Jayce’s back pocket as he rushed away. He smirked as he unraveled your lacy panties.

“What do we have here?” Viktor purred, circling the fabric around his finger.

“Give them back.” Jayce practically growled.

“Touchy, touchy. I’m assuming these are from y/n? Another win for Talis during your little game?”

“Yes. Now give them back.” Jayce went to snatch the pair, Viktor allowed the man to take them. Hands up in surrender.

“Have fun.” He said, with a knowing smirk.

Jayce only huffed in response, turning back to his task. He quickly entered his room, dropping his bag on the floor with a thump. In his hand he held your lacy panties. Sure, you might have just been teasing him, but now all he could think about was the article in his hand.

Tentatively, he brought them to his face. Pressing the cloth to his nose, he deeply inhaled. A shuddering moan escaping his lips. Fuck.

He knew you would smell good, but fuck, you smelled mouthwatering. And that was only the remnants of your essence. It only made him want the real thing even more.

The tightness in his pants was beginning to grow unbearable. He knew he shouldn’t. It was perverted enough that he asked for your panties. To use them, well, that would just be even worse. But god, he couldn’t stop his hand from moving to his belt. Unhooking and sliding it from his pants before unbuttoning them and sliding them down to his thighs. The only thing in the way was his boxers. The prominent tent in them dotted with a wet spot of precum. Groaning, he released his cock from the confines.

Hot and throbbing, it slapped against his stomach. Groaning again, he reached for his cock. His large hand gripping the base, then sliding up. He couldn’t help the moan that escaped his lips. Pressing your panties to his nose again he continued his debauchery. Hand pumping his length as he breathed in the scent of your sex. Picturing himself with his head between your thighs, smelling and tasting all of you. Making you cum on his tongue. The thought alone made a spurt of precum release from the head of his cock. He continued to to fuck his hand as more lewd thoughts entered his mind.

The thought of your mouth wrapped around him. Warm, wet, allowing him to fuck your throat. You moaning around his length as you felt him cum. Then the thought of taking you. First pushing you into his bed in a deep mating press. Cock buried deep in your velvety warmth. God, he knew you would feel like heaven.

He groaned, feeling his climax nearing. Balls growing tight as he continued to picture the ways he would use you.

Pushing you face down ass up on his bed. Easily sliding into your wetness. He already knew what your moans sounded like, but he bet he could have you screaming around his cock. He would fuck you the way you deserve, hitting your sweet spots just right. Making your walls flutter around him before clenching down as you came. Imagining the way you would squeeze him.

Fuck, he was close. His hand pumped faster as he neared the end, but he needed something more. Fuck it, he was already so debauched, might as well continue. He brought your panties to his mouth. Tongue flicking over the cotton bit that pressed against your core. The remnants of your salty sweet essence made him go over the edge. He leaned over as hot spurts of cum were forced out of him. Groaning as he continued to taste what little he could of you.

As he came down from the high, he pulled your panties from his mouth. Moaning as your taste left his tongue. Fuck, this was bad. He was bad. You were right, he was a fucking pervert. But how could he not be? You placed your panties in his hand, you teased him to use them. He attempted to argue with the idea of you.

The black lace in his hand seemed to stare back at him. Reveling in his perverted antics, just begging for him to do more. Already his cock was hardening once again. Although rubbed raw, Jayce reached down once more. This time wrapping your panties around his length.

Filthy, he was fucking filthy. But it didn’t matter. Besides, you had given him instructions on how to wash them.

#a99jazzybean #jayce arcane #jayce arcane x reader #viktor arcane #mel medarda #college au #modern au #arcane #arcane fanfic #jayce talis #enemies to lovers #smut #jayce x you

68 notes · View notes

enhypencores · 1 year ago

Text

Bleed Me Dry

Lee Heeseung X Y/N

Genre: Yandere Romance/ Thriller/ Stalker

Prompt: "If I carve you into my blood, will you believe my love?"

Word Count: 7K+

WARNING⚠️: Explicit content, profanity, sexual harassment, heated make outs, female stereotyping, use of a derogatory word, violence, lots of blood, aggression, toxic masculinity, yandre, manipulation, mentions of self exit, unhealthy relationships and mental health issues. Y/N described with long hair and brown eyes.

Cameos: Jake, Jay, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Yeji, Karina, Jaemin and Jisung

A/N: Please read the warnings carefully before proceeding. There's heavy discussions and complex character dynamics. None of it is healthy. This is a work of fiction, please read it as such. If I missed out any, lemme know.

Heeseung watched you, mentally tracing the curve of your bottom lip as you awaited the bus, your nose scrunching in disgust at the passing smokers. The fullness of your cheeks flushed red as the scorching heat streamed through your hand’s barrier, and the silky strands of brown hair cascaded down your neck as you climbed up the bus. Your forehead wrinkled as you leaned down to scan your card, and your nimble steps took you to the end row. Sweat drops trickled down the bony line of your collarbone, dipping into your white collar, dampening the fabric as your eyes rolled back and your head fell slack against the teetering glass window.

This was his sign.

He strutted through the door and beelined towards the back. He was so close to settling down, just another step, and he'd be enveloped in your presence when all his plans fell through the window. He halted, his eyes widening in disbelief as a boy settled beside you, unaware of the fury he had just unleashed within Heeseung's blood. Heeseung swallowed the colourful words itching up his throat and forced himself into the seat behind, away from you.

He stared at the gap between your shoulders, bitterness pooling in his chest. Each time the boy's arm brushed against yours, Heeseung's restraint wavered, his nails digging into his palm as he envisioned tearing the boy's joint off for daring to feel you. His temper flared when he spotted your oblivious frame, still, sound asleep like a princess in the comfort of her sheets. You were so perplexingly naive, falling asleep in a bus full of men waiting to pounce on meek girls like yourself. It usually took around forty-five minutes for you to reach home, but you could've at least placed your bag on the vacant seat so no one—except him—would take the spot beside you.

Heeseung trained his gaze on his wristwatch, every tick of the short hand's movement making him lose his mind. He could've been the one pressed against your shoulders, bathing in your essence, had that loser found another spot. Fortunately, he didn't have to dwell in misery for long because at the very next stop, the loser grabbed his bag from the floor, preparing to leave. Heeseung analysed his watch.

Ten minutes. Gone.

Ten minutes he could've spent right beside you.

The boy stood alert, pressing the button, and the bus came to a standstill. As he stepped through the aisle, his foot landed against a round object, throwing him off balance and sending him tumbling to the ground with his jawline scraping against the hard floor. The entire bus gasped in unison as the boy sat up, his frantic gaze searching for the perpetrator.

A round basketball swirled by his feet.

"Shit, that slipped. My bad," Heeseung muttered, standing from his seat and holding out his hand with an apologetic smile, which the unsuspecting boy accepted with an embarrassed grin.

Heeseung watched the boy rub at his injured chin, confused at the ball's magical appearance as he tugged on his bag's strap and stammered out of the bus with an obvious limp.

Hopefully, that injury lasted ten days to account for the ten precious minutes of Heeseung's life.

Immediately, Heeseung turned back, glancing at your limp frame. His heart raced at the sight. He took small, calculated steps before gently lowering himself into the seat beside you. At the first brush of your elbow, Heeseung's body grew warm, heart drumming faster within his chest. He itched to press his entire body against yours. For now, however, he slightly edged closer, letting your clothed shoulder graze his arm, his eyes rolling shut at the subtle contact.

For the past month, he was a silent observer, watching you walk from your university to the bus, bus to your house in a disciplined schedule. It became part of his very routine. He would wait around your campus at 3:00 sharp to follow you onto the bus and spend the next blissful forty-five minutes watching you sleep away. Heeseung would climb off at your stop, ensuring you crossed the road safely. Only when your back disappeared into the villa and yellow lights at the right-end corner flickered to life would Heeseung return to get a bus back.

He was watching over you to keep you safe. The world lurked with dangers, and you were so innocent, so beautiful, so mesmerizing, so agonizingly weak like a frail flower in a garden full of cacti. He had no option but to take on the role of a silent guardian, protecting you from the world. He told himself he valued your safety. But deep down, he knew it was more than that. He needed to be near you, to feel your presence, to submerge within your life and become a part woven for your pleasure.

Usually, he stayed a safe distance away to admire your presence. A week ago, he stared at the empty seat with longing. Like an addiction, his tolerance had grown. Seeing you from afar wasn't enough. He wanted to feel your presence. His body automatically followed his yearning, getting up and climbing into the seat beside yours.

And since then, he couldn't get enough.

All of a sudden, Heeseung's focus wavered as the bus came to an abrupt halt. He impulsively brought his arm around your frame, viciously eyeing the driver for his rash turn. As he felt something drop against his shoulder, Heeseung froze. He gulped carefully, turning to inspect you.

His insides twisted in joy. The sight of your sleeping frame leaning against him with your head on his shoulder was enough to make him forget his annoyance at the bus driver. Heeseung shifted closer to let your head rest in the crevice of his neck.

His breath hitched at the contact; your face pressed firmly into his bare neck. Flesh on flesh. His hand clenched into a strained fist, nails digging into his palm, leaving indents as your warm breath nuzzled down his collarbone and spread to his chest. He looked down at your unresponsive frame and realised he had never seen you so up close.

With the closer angle, he noticed washed-out freckles like sand dust trailing down your nose. Your eyelashes were curled black, resting low on your cheeks angelically. Your mouth was cutely pressed into a light pout against his top, your nose squished into his collarbones, making his hairs rise.

Heeseung urged himself to calm down. If you heard the frantic pacing of his heart, you'd wake up before he had the chance to revel in your skin's warmth. He breathed in the scent of fresh vanilla, something inside his abdomen stirring as he realised how you might leave him smelling like yourself, like a protective feline, marking their territory. Heeseung smiled, his body automatically turning towards you, eyes shining in anticipation.

Your body craved him just as badly as he craved you.

Thirty-five minutes passed by in the blink of an eye. He didn't even register the familiar streets treading along the window, his sight and mind filled with images of your pretty face when suddenly your phone beeped, jerking you awake. Heeseung swore under his breath, body recoiling in complaint as you pulled away, grabbing the phone in your jeans pocket and shutting off the alarm. He forced himself to look the other way, his breathing unsteady as he restrained the urge to yank you back.

Roused awake, you quickly stood alert, pressing the button, your knees accidentally bumping into the stranger's legs as you proceeded to step out of the aisle. You turned back to look at the masked man.

He watched, breath-held, heart thudding.

His wide eyes met yours, and you gave him a suppressed smile before walking off.

Goosebumps. His head felt like jelly, mind straining to grasp at the smile you sent his way—a smile meant for him—not the kind one you give the shopkeeper when he hands you your groceries—not the empathetic one you flash to the older citizens slowly climbing the bus—not the patient one you give to the raucous bikers outside the campus—a soft, sweet, and memorable smile. Only for him.

Heeseung was so dazed that he simply forgot to get off at the stop with you. Instead, he sat rigid, attempting to process the burst of emotions within his chest. He looked down and—thank fuck he did because he might’ve missed it if he was preoccupied in following behind. There, on his grey flannel, an inch lower from his collar, was a wet mark that belonged to you. Not only did you leave him smelling like your vanilla body wash, but you also stained him with your saliva.

His heart thrummed. He pulled his mask down. With his lower region tingling, his hand instinctively grabbed at the collar to pull the wet fabric into his mouth. Head dropping back, his vision blurred, his body tightening at the first taste of your mouth.

He lapped at the spot like a starved man, his legs pressing together to relieve some of the tension in his painfully hard centre. Sweat built up in his clenched fist as he sucked the fabric and rolled his tongue against it, wishing he could feel it directly from your mouth rather than the brittle cotton of his shirt. His desires had climbed up a new ladder; nothing was enough anymore. He needed to lap at the delicate roundness of your lips, suck off your taste from inside, and drown his tongue in its heat.

He needed you, physically, emotionally—unabashed and unhidden.

It was time.

—.—.—.—.—.—.—

Extracurriculars were starting to take a toll on your mental health. You were already part of the university’s student advisory council and head of the reading club. With exams looming and Miss Sol’s exhaustive dance training sessions, you were certain you would either fail all your exams or get home on a stretcher. For the past week, you had been getting home around sunset, but today, you finished training earlier. Giddily, you jumped onto the bus, excited to get home and munch on ramen before your older brother got his hands on it.

You sat in your usual backseat and immediately fell asleep.

When your alarm blared, you quickly silenced your phone and got up, pressing the button to alert the bus driver. You glanced to your side, expecting to see the masked man who had unknowingly become your bus ride companion, but his seat was vacant. Confused, you glanced around, but only saw aged faces and school students.

Strange. You assumed he was a college student like yourself, never skipping a day.

You shrugged, climbed off the bus and made your way across the main road toward your house. As you strutted inside the villa, a blinding object flashed past your vision, clashing against your torso and shoving you to the floor. You looked up furiously.

The culprit, your smug brother with his blonde hair falling against his eyes, kneeled down to grab the basketball. “Weren’t you supposed to get home late?” His accusatory tone made you want to scratch the smirk off his mouth.

“Oh, sorry for colliding into your ball.” You smiled sarcastically, standing up. His sardonic smile widened.

“Don’t do it again, little sis,” he grinned, and your patience flew out the window. You jumped up to grab his hair, but as if anticipating your attack, he dodged, sprinting down the hallway with the ball cocooned in his embrace.

“Sim Jaeyun!” You screeched, chasing him through the lounge and out the backdoor toward the inbuilt basketball court.

You never hated your short height, but in moments like these, you wished you had inherited your father’s long legs. As you watched him speed up beside the basketball court, you frustratedly changed your route, dashing into the square-shaped arena, running diagonally, hoping the Pythagorean theorem would help you reach Jake faster.

With your gaze trained on your target, you saw Jake dribble the ball ahead as you blindly ran down the court, so blind that you didn’t notice a taller figure standing in your way. You collided into a frame, slamming against a hard chest, sending you both tumbling to the ground. You gasped, eyes bulging out as a pair of brown eyes stared at you, wide with panic.

You muttered a rushed apology, attempting to get up when you noticed his arms were locked around your waist protectively.

“Get off Heeseung, you midget!” Jake yelled, nearing your limp frame. You gave him a scorned glare, sitting up as the man’s arms slowly fell away. You stood up together as Jake dribbled his basketball, an amused grin on his features.

Sourly glaring, you didn’t hesitate to whip Jake with your bag. He groaned, almost flinging the basketball at you when the black-haired man pushed ahead immediately, blocking your brother’s aggression.

“She’s a menace. Let me deal with it,” Jake bitterly told the stranger.

“Shut up, Jake! You’re the menace in this household,” you huffed, glaring at him.

Then, your gaze settled back on the brown-eyed man, and your cheeks flushed red as you surveyed the stranger’s features. Ethereal. Big eyes as naïve as a deer’s, a peculiarly sharp nose, plump, wet lips, and dark ebony hair—the man was majestic. Dressed in a grey tank top and trousers, sweat clung to his tan skin, dripping down his well-built biceps like honey. He seemed to have walked straight out of a sports tournament.

“Who’s this?” You blurted out, eyeing the handsome man with flushed cheeks.

“Heeseung, a friend. Heeseung, this is Y/N, unfortunately, related to me.” You smacked your bag into his stomach, pushing him back as he doubled over and clutched his torso, glaring at you through his gold bangs.

“That’s no way to treat your younger sister, Jake,” Heeseung's stern voice oozed masculine charm—almost giving you whiplash. His reprimanding made your brother’s temper dissolve, and he unclenched his jaw, nodding obediently. You stared, baffled at the sudden shift in his demeanour.

You had never seen your older brother submissively agree with anyone—not even your parents. Having a one-year age gap, the older child's privilege, and spoiled treatment from your parents really did a number on him. His friend group consisted of boys who worked like dogs to gain his acceptance, and your brother bathed in the glory. He wasn’t overtly arrogant, but good grades and amazing basketball performances would make anyone feel like they owned the world. Not to mention, his faked kind personality had everyone running laps. You can’t even count how many hearts he’d broken from middle school to university.

Watching him listen to Heeseung, you could tell he was someone important to your brother.

You glanced back at the towering man. He even carried himself with an air of indifference, intimidating yet undeniably attractive, commanding everyone’s interest. Under the sunlight, his pupils glowed like lit candles, growing small into a crescent shape as a warm smile grazed his lips, his gaze softening. Tousled strands fell into his dreamy eyes as he nodded. Baffled, you wondered how one second, he seemed like an intimidating adult, reprimanding the kids, and the other moment, he appeared boyish and charming, his eyes brimming with youthful energy.

“Y/N.” Your name rolled off his tongue like butter, making your insides curl.

The night you met him, you stalked your brother’s account to find that intriguing man. You scoured through hundreds of Jake’s irrelevant followers, desperately searching for an account starting with the letter H. To your disappointment, no such account existed.

You wondered if Heeseung was old school and went down a rabbit hole, searching through the depths of Facebook. Lee Heeseung—his name in itself was traditional and old, so you didn’t even come across any likely accounts. You gave up and tried asking Jake; however, your brother rarely answered any of your questions. You had no choice but to wait for another encounter.

—.—.—.—.—.—.—

Like a surprising miracle, the next encounter came earlier than expected. A week later, you were buried in exam questions, struggling to absorb the entire pharmacology textbook, when the doorbell rang. You tried to ignore it, but after several insistent rings, you begrudgingly stomped to the door. You weren’t expecting anyone; your parents were at a dinner party, and Jake was at a cram class. You mentally prepared yourself to scream at the neighbour’s kids who frequently stood outside your door to mess around.

You flung the door open, ready to unleash your frustrations, when your jaw dropped. The familiar round eyes met yours, kickstarting a joyous flutter of butterflies in your stomach. Heeseung stood as handsome as the first day, wearing a black hoodie and jeans. He carried a bunch of hefty books, his gaze searching behind you.

“Y/N,” he called your name, and your ears reddened. He enunciated each syllable as if he knew you for ages, called you it for ages.

“Jaeyun left some astrophysics books at my place.” He peered at the stack in his hold.

You smiled apologetically because, of course, your forgetful brother did.

“He’s out right now,” you told him. “But that’s alright, I’ll take these.” His smile softened as he held out the books. You stepped closer, circling your arm around the stack, but your weak arms failed to carry the weight, embarrassingly almost dropping them to the floor.

Heeseung quickly tightened his hold on the books, pulling back with a teasing smile. “I’ll take them in,” he stated. Before you could reject his kindness, he stepped inside, pausing in the hallway.

You led him to the lounge, where he kept the books on the wooden table. You offered him a smile as your heart beat frantically. Watching him stand close in your vicinity when you were home alone felt like all your prayers had been answered.

He turned to look at you, pulling back the strands that had fallen against his vision. A smile stretched his lips. “You were studying?” He asked, his voice low yet echoing in the empty hall. Your lips parted, eyes wide in shock.

“How’d you know?” You questioned incredulously.

His smile morphed into a grin. Wordlessly, he reached out and gently pulled the pencil from your hair. The hair bun unravelled, brown strands running down your neck, grazing his fingertips as something flickered in his gaze. He watched the soft layers frame your face. You giggled, face warming up. You tried to grab the pencil, but Heeseung pulled it away, smirking at your embarrassment.

“Let me guess, pharmacology is kicking your ass?” He scoffed, and you gasped in retaliation.

“Now, how do you know my degree?” You stared in confusion.

He chuckled. “Your brother says it’s your worst decision.”

Fucking Sim Jaeyun. Always ruining your reputation everywhere with his big ass mouth.

You sighed, rolling your eyes in frustration. You somewhat disliked your crush knowing about your crisis with that god-awful degree.

“I’m doing fine,” you bitterly claimed. “I ace Biochem and almost every other module. Anatomy is just from the depths of hell,” you spewed some irrelevant achievements, immediately cringing at how self-indulgent you sounded.

God, you were pathetic. You wondered if Heeseung saw through your façade.

Heeseung shifted his weight onto his right leg. “I can help,” he offered, a flamboyant grin flashing across his features as he nodded at your shocked expression. “I ace Anatomy all the time,” he mocked your tone, lips twisting in a teasing smile.

You huffed. Guys usually scored seventy per cent and flaunted it like they won a Nobel prize. “What’s your highest test score?” Your overconfident-self asked, folding your arms over your chest with an egoistic smile.

He watched silently for a moment before returning that sharp smile.

“3.9.”

Pfft. You rolled your eyes, grabbing at your hair in frustration. Was Heeseung as annoying as Jake? “Real funny,” you scoffed, wishing you could erase the smugness off his handsome face.

“3.9 GPA in premed.”

Oh.

Your overconfidence deflated like a balloon. Heeseung smirked and stepped closer, arms folded over his lean chest, mocking your demeanour.

“So?”

You nervously gulped, stepping back from his overwhelming presence. This tall, gorgeous man had casually revealed his Einstein-level intelligence, and now, you felt utterly stupid, crying over some basic anatomy. Even Jake struggled to maintain a decent 3.5.

Your eyes widened as you registered the situation again. Heeseung was offering his help. Even if he thought you were stupid, you could change that, prove him wrong and possibly gather more information about him through a tutoring session, for example, unearth his socials. You could probably get closer and know more.

With your decision made, you nodded at him.

“Alright.”

Heeseung felt like he’d plummet to the floor in relief. He watched the curiosity in your doe eyes gleam as you determinedly stepped towards the hallway, walking up the stairs. He took the first step, his knees trembling as he watched you peppily jump to the right-end door. You were showing him the way to your bedroom.

Your bedroom.

Heeseung’s body fired up like an overheated kettle, his muscles tensing against the railing. You pushed the door open and stepped inside, turning to wait for him. How naïve. How fucking naïve. You had opened up your home, welcomed him inside, and now you were leading him into your personal space, the small corner in this massive house that belonged solely to you, the corner he was used to seeing from outside the house.

Were you that stupid?

He had seen your parents leave in glamorous attire with a bouquet of flowers, indicating they'd be gone for a substantial time. Jake wasn’t home, attending cram school from 6:00 to 8:00 pm. That left you… vulnerable and alone.

Despite his resolve to wait a good two weeks before visiting again, Heeseung’s patience had worn thin. That initial meeting, feeling your soft curves press into his chest as you toppled over him, had ignited a craving in him. Your scent mingled with his, your body fitting perfectly against him—it had all transcended his tolerance. He had felt his internal organs shift with momentary bliss, his body reacting as if you were made to be felt by him.

Now he was here, in your house, in your presence.

He knew the moment he stepped into your room, he couldn’t leave until he made you his, in some way, in any way. Anticipation bubbled in his veins as he rushed up the stairs.

“Heeseung?”

He froze, his body whipping around to face the intruder. His gaze turned to steel, jaw tightening at the sight of a confused Jake standing in the doorway.

Sim—Fucking—Jaeyun, the brother who wasn’t supposed to be home for at least another hour.

“Jake?” you inquired, stepping back out and shutting your door. Heeseung’s fists clenched as he stared at the closed door, frustration churning in his stomach. So close. He had been just a step away from entering your room.

Beneath that door lay the key to your heart. Access to your room meant understanding your interests, habits, likes, and dislikes, transforming himself into the man you dreamed of. Jake was a limited source. How much does a brother really talk about his sister?

“What’re you doing here?” Jake questioned as Heeseung and you descended the stairs.

“He was here to drop off the books you read as a useless hobby, so I asked for help with Anatomy,” you explained, smiling at Heeseung, who now seemed oddly stern.

Jake snickered, pulling off his baseball cap to let blonde locks fall into his eyes. “You’re pestering my friend for anatomy?” He chuckled as you rolled your eyes.

“No, I offered,” Heeseung replied, his tone sharp and cutting through. You turned your head in confusion at his sudden change in demeanour. “Don’t you stay for an extra lesson?” Heeseung raised his brow, seemingly well-versed in Jake’s schedule.

“Yeah, but they let us out early since we’ve covered the semester,” Jake responded, indifferent to Heeseung’s tone, as he tossed his bag onto the floor.

“Up for a round of LOL?” Jake rubbed his palms together in excitement.

Heeseung’s cold gaze changed with a hint of amusement as he nodded. He turned to you, his smile languid. “Sorry Y/N, League of Legends will always be my first choice,” he declared.

“It’s cool, I’ll survive,” you scoffed, jogging back up the stairs and closing your door to resume studying.

Dropping into the armchair, your thoughts drifted to the sudden shift in atmosphere at Jake’s arrival. Jake and Heeseung’s friendship seemed...strange. Your brother followed Heeseung’s lead without question, even overlooking his friend's occasional indifference. Jake, a softie, who would give you the silent treatment for calling him a nerd, yapping about ‘she called me a bad word’ to your mother, seemed unfazed by Heeseung’s intimidating nature.

Shaking your head, you forced your attention back to your studies, determined to focus despite the lingering curiosity.

—.—.—.—.—.—.—

Another round.

Another one.

One more.

Heeseung was losing patience, hectically pressing buttons on the Nintendo Switch, his fingers straining to match his brain’s pace. With a hazy vision, Heeseung turned to inspect Jake. Finally, the blonde had lost his will to play, dropping to the couch as snores wracked his frame. It had taken five gruelling hours of continuous rounds, but it would all be worth it.

The opportunity had presented itself, Heeseung internally reasoned. He didn’t sneak into your house or anything— he had greeted your parents when they returned and even ate some snacks your mother had lovingly offered. He was not an intruder. He was a guest, and now the guest was wandering in search of a bathroom. He knew Jake’s bathroom was down the hall, but he purposely overlooked that route, opting instead to tread up the staircase. With every step, rugged creaks whispered in the darkness, but Jake’s tumultuous snores helped mask his motives.

Soon, he was standing before your door. And this time, he was unstoppable because no one would bother you at 3 AM.

Breath held, lips pressed in silent tension, he pulled at the handle and slipped inside. A thicker blanket of darkness clouded his vision. Freezing against the door, Heeseung blinked rapidly, determined to accommodate his vision. Streaks of streetlight treaded inside from the edge of the curtain, letting him finally see his surroundings, and he turned to inspect the room.

A study desk toppled with bulks of books and papers with sharpies and pens laid at the edge. Heeseung quietly stepped towards it, his finger grazing the neat text, written with keen attention. His chest tingled when he imagined you pepped up on the swivelling chair, jotting down intricate notes with such pretty handwriting. By the look of it, he could tell you were at the top of your studies, a beauty with brains.

Heeseung noticed your phone charging on the edge of the table and quickly grabbed a hold of it. He didn’t know enough to unlock your phone, but he could easily download his new software without a fuss. Heeseung pulled out his phone, automatically airdropping the relevant file to yours. The new software wasn’t an ordinary tracking device, but it even synced your live activity. Now onwards, all your texts and calls would go through him. The only drawback? He needed time for the syncing to finalise.

He put your phone down, but his gaze caught the back cover, and he immediately inspected it. You kept a Polaroid inside the cover, a beautiful smile lighting up your features as you stood next to your best friend at what seemed like Disneyland. Heeseung wanted to cherish your smile, but noticing the arm your friend easily draped across your waist, fury seethed beyond his pupils.

Why were people so effortlessly a part of your life? Why did it come so easily to everyone but him? To him, you were so distant like a dream. He had to bide his time, pretend to be patient, and even befriend a narcissist like Jake, just to make you aware of his existence.

Why couldn’t he just have you?

Heeseung turned away, his mood soured, his gaze searching for something to get his mind off the bitterness. The room was… perplexingly simple. Most of your personality was huddled on that desk; the walls were empty with just a cuckoo clock in the centre and a bean bag resting against the wardrobe. Dispiritedly, he allowed himself to gaze at the bed.

A master bed served with your petite frame wrapped like a sushi roll on a platter.

Heeseung’s body grew warm at the sight. You were in dreamland, the sound of slow breathing now clearer to his ears as he crept closer. He stood at the edge of the bed, his gaze running over your frame. To his displeasure, your face was hidden from his prying eyes, strands disorderly shadowing your features, evoking his irritation.

He couldn’t help it. He found himself getting nearer, your scent getting stronger, soft vanilla teasing his nostrils. Placing his knee on the white sheets, he leaned forward and brushed the strands off your face.

Long lashes rested against your tinted cheeks, round parted lips with a hint of drool running past the corner. Heeseung didn’t even notice when he had dropped himself on the sheets’, his torso completely resting beside your sleeping frame.

Heaven. The sheets were warm and immersed in your scent, giving him the illusion of your embrace.

His palms itched to touch. His tongue felt heavy with appetite. He had memorised every inch of your beauty to see you behind his eyelids, but his hands still didn’t know your touch.

Heeseung impulsively reached out, his index finger grazing your bottom lip. Instantly, heat spread from his chest down to his centre. His fingers trembled as he traced the rose petals. Your slow breaths coupled with the softness of your lips made his hunger flare up. He trailed the finger down your chin, collecting your drool, and he transferred it to his mouth, impatiently sucking in your taste.

He couldn’t help the urge to lower himself, stick his tongue out and slide it against your bottom lip.

His toes curled, his eyes falling shut.

Euphoria.

Suddenly, he felt like a teenager sharing his first kiss. Your saliva was like sugar melting on his tongue, a taste so delectable that his insides curled in starvation. Heeseung wasn’t a fan of desserts, but your flavour humbled him, making him realise what he’d been missing all his life. He preferred the taste of wine and burnt spices, believing his palate was too mature for anything so juvenile. Yet, god—your lips were like the first shot of his high. Suddenly, sweet things became irresistible.

His lower region tingled as his flicks became harsher, his mouth wide open in mindless hunger, his drool messily spilling on your lips. His mind buzzed, body twisting into the sheet in urgency; your taste had rendered him so weak that he was willing to disrupt his entire plan just from the heat of your mouth.

He felt his arousal strain through his trousers as he tried sliding his tongue in the small gleaming gap in your lips when suddenly he felt you stir. He jerked away, breath heaving, lips drenched with spit. Narrow-eyed, he surveyed your features.

Please not yet. Please, baby.

Instead of ruining his plans, you simply tugged the blanket low. He saw your tongue peek out and run over your bottom lip and gulp down his saliva. It was unintentional and child-like, maybe, one of your sleeping habits. But Heeseung’s blood burned at the sight, his mouth drying up, pupils darkening.

His gaze chased lower, and he spotted a silver of skin, peaking through the cover. The blanket was tangled low on your waist, exposing your brunched-up shirt to his hungry eyes. He didn’t even bother fighting his lascivious thoughts, abruptly tugging up your shirt to reveal your stomach. Heeseung crawled down, his lips immediately pressing into the golden skin, trailing restrained kisses up your waistline. His restrain wavered when he was presented with the sight of your tiny belly button. His mouth salivated as he observed the little hole. Instantly his tongue lashed out, dipping into the curve. His body hummed, his vision blurring as his hips involuntarily thrust into the sheets. He wanted to fill—every hole—every crevice that let him invade. If there was a part he couldn’t physically access, he wanted to stab holes and punch his essence in every corner to mark you as his.

Saliva pooled down his jawline, drenching your abdomen as he protruded his needy tongue into your warm button. He flicks become hungrier, needier, his hands scrambling to grope something—anything. With cheeks pressed flat against your damp stomach, he bit down on his lip to silence the groan itching up his throat as he squeezed your waist.

Fuck. You were made to be touched. You were made to be his clay. You were made to mould into his favourite plaything. You were made for him to love.

Inhale.

Heeseung’s gaze darted to your face, his muscles tensing at the sharp inhale.

Fuck—shit—fuck—your eyes were half open.

Survival instincts kicked in, and Heeseung rolled off the bed at lightning speed, slithering beneath it, pressing his lips together to steady his breathing. The bed creaked as you shifted and sat up. He could almost picture it: your heavy-lidded eyes widening in alarm, the image of a flushed Heeseung gazing up at you—poof—gone, like a mystical encounter. You’d wonder if seeing him there was a figment of your imagination. You’d gulp and rub your template, accepting your insanity.

Heeseung envisioned it all—and he was right.

You were going crazy, thinking about Heeseung, your brother’s best friend, doing sickening, revolting, absolutely heavenly things to you. You didn’t recall dreaming of him, but you might be a stage two schizophrenic because you were now hallucinating his presence. Your body was overly indulged in the hallucination, feverish and covered in goosebumps. You kicked off the blanket, noticing your shirt pooled up, your stomach warm, limbs shaking.

Heeseung waited, his heartbeat steadying as you showed no sign of suspicion. Just like he had imagined. Your insecure mind probably convinced you otherwise. Sometimes, even seeing doesn’t translate to believing—especially for someone as pure-hearted as you. You’d rather doubt your own soul than accuse anyone else of foul play. He’d have to teach you to believe in yourself more than this world—he’d force you to grow a thorn in that beautiful heart, so no one could taint it. Except him.

He lay there, flushed—dazed. He laid there for hours until your laborious breaths morphed into sweet lullabies.

As he slid out the bed, he turned towards you, his heart throbbing with adoration.

You were back to being a little sushi roll, covered with a blanket, your hair sticking to your face as you slept like a log. The mere thought of someone else seeing you innocently asleep made his blood boil. He'd gladly crack open their skulls, extract their hippocampi, and flush them down the toilet to erase any trace of you from their minds.

Heeseung stepped closer and gently kissed your head. He inhaled deeply, savouring your scent from your flushed frame. Reluctantly, he stepped back, grabbed his phone and ensured the sync was complete before heading out the door.

He had to speed things up; the wait was becoming unbearable.

Straight away, Heeseung took a cab home. There was a solid hour before his morning lecture, so he immediately threw himself into his bed and analysed the synced files on his phone.

Details from your phone helped him understand you, but he didn’t know everything just yet. He scrolled through your notes. You liked watching dramatic sitcoms about housewives and divorces. Your YouTube was just a diverse cookbook: most watched clips were recipes ranging from brownies to egg soufflé to Arabic hummus. He chuckled as he noticed some dance tutorials. He would love to see you dance one day.

Your social media presence was barely a drop in his research. You had zero posts, and mostly followed celebrities and high school girlfriends. Looking into your teenage years, to Heeseung’s relief, you had been to an all-girls school. He scoured your followers for any guys, but except for some male actors, you didn’t seem to have anyone worth noting.

The syncing only allowed access to a specific set of photos you had downloaded from your PC onto the mobile. There was a total of six pictures— three of those were of the fucking sunset. The rage he felt as he patiently waited for the pictures to download only to be met with an ugly ball of yellow light was unfathomable.

As he scrolled, he found a picture of a younger girl in a white sundress sitting beside a boy who proudly held up a fishing net, occupied with three mackerels, a memory of Jake and your childhood. His heart felt warm as he zoomed into your features. Unknowingly, he was tracing the line of your smile, the shape of your eyes on the screen, a dumb smile playing on his own lips.

He snapped out of it and scrolled ahead. The following picture was a group photo from— high school. You were the centre of attention, your hair up in a ponytail, a vivid smile glossing your features as girls huddled around you. He felt the magnetic pull exuding your frame even from lifeless photos— making him wish he had opted for your area, so he could have found you earlier. He believed whatever time frame he found you, he would have pounced to get you to himself.

Heeseung forcibly clicked off and opened the last photo in the synced album. His smile wiped off, his body sitting alert, his gaze narrowed and fixated on the screen. Your university’s back entrance had a swing where he noticed couples hanging and making out.

In the snapped photo, you were perched on top of the wooden swing, eating an ice lolly with a man behind you, his hands on your shoulders, a shit-eating grin on his face whilst pointing at the camera.

Heeseung’s grip on his phone tightened. From the outskirts, he hadn’t seen that face anywhere near you, but then again, how much could one know as an outsider.

No.

Jake’s mocking insults about your love life were proof of your singularity.

He hated knowing such little about your world. He hated someone so undeserving and irrelevant could touch you so easily when he had to watch you from the shadows, dwell on small encounters.

He had to find this guy and ensure your protection before he could even think of disclosing his love for you. Whatever this man was, Heeseung had to know more.

381 notes · View notes

lynn-tged-posting · 6 months ago

Text

tged webtoon ep 172 spoilers and thoughts that are actually very happy about this episode because we got a lot of good panels i really liked the art for this week and more below the cut

BEFORE WE BEGIN. I NEED EVERYONE TO SEE. JAVIER BLUSHING AT LLOYD LOOK AT HIM THIS IS SO FUCKING CUTE OH MY GOOD GOD ALDKFJLSKJFLSKDJF!??!?!?!?

he's embarrassed at his lord which means he is blushing about lloyd on a technicality which means yes llovier is real. thank you goodnight. HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAA

i am so serious when i saw this panel i started yelling and kicking and smacking every solid object with my hands within a two foot radius. jesus christ. jumpscare of the century in the best way possible. i love this panel so much. javier is very cute. and he's blushing bc of lloyd. WAHOO!

anyway lloyd and his dramatic ass,,, my god he's such a loser goofball /aff WAHAHA it's okay lloyd i think you're cool,,, even if no one else agrees,,, obsessed with how his eyes are a diff color and how there's just smoke slipping past his lips HELLOOO

i think given the chance suho could have been a theater kid or smth. i'd believe it.

more of javier being embarrassed by his lord LMFAOOO GOD THEY'RE SO CUTE AND STUPID

we also got more panels and info about credos!!! yay!!! lloyd's reaction to the rock paper scissors reveal was really good LMFAOOO

it seems like,,, jang-cheol!credos really didn't want to die, not at the hands of the protagonist and certainly not at the hands of his own people, so he introduced korean-style rock paper scissors and gave it enough flair so that the demons would believe it's a proper way of dueling,,, it's a clever n smart solution it just comes across as silly to people who know what it really is AHAHAHA

"that too is a teaching of the great credos" LMFAOOO he probably couldn't really figure out how to embellish it that much so just left it as is HAHAHAHAHA AND JAVIERS "?????" LOL

giggled very badly at how tense this panel appears surrounded by chanting of ROCK PAPER SCISSORS! ROCK PAPER SCISSORS! LMFAO

like,,, this is SERIOUS,,, ROCK PAPER SCISSORS TO DECIDE YOUR FATE,,,!!!! HAHAHAHAHA

AND FINALLY THE PANEL WHERE LLOYD THROWS OUT BOTH SCISSORS AFTER STARTLING THE DEMON I REALLY LIKE THE WAY THIS PANEL LOOKS IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN IT. STUPID CLEVER IDIOT. OF COURSE HE'D DO THAT. CHEATING LOSER. THAT'S SMART. GUARANTEED WIN. I HATE YOU /AFF

and everyones reactions HAHAHAHAA i fucking love how scuffed the legends behind this stuff are LOL

it does make me wonder,,, how these legends even come to be?!? who the hell was writing the knight of blood and iron??? lmfao??? like first the one with the lightspeed runner with the centaurs, and now this??? is credos behind this legend specifically, is this part of the bullshitting he had to do to get the demons to believe him? I'M VERY AMUSED AND SUPER CURIOUS LOL

and then lloyd trying to be cool again,,, you were VERY cool lloyd I LOVE THIS PANEL A LOT IT'S VERY VERY COOL!!! i love love love the composition of the art this week it's great!!!

plus javier's reaction HAHAHAHAHAHHA

i actually really liked the episode this week!! the pacing feels a little bit better than the last couple of episodes, i'm not sure if i can properly explain why i feel that way but it definitely feels better to me! but also, i have no idea whether or not this falls in line with the novel context so others may have differing opinions LMFAOOO

i think in general i really liked the art in this episode, the panels really were super awesome this week! and the overall gags were both hilarious and gave more world-building info (in a very indirect way haha) which i really liked. i always love tearing that stuff apart and coming to my own conclusions about Why these characters do what they do, so that made me happy/satisfied hehe

still thinking about that blushing javier panel. jesus that is like a DRUG. i feel my neurons activate every time i see it. CHRIST

i really really hope the next episodes keep up this pace! i like that they spent time to build up the rock paper scissors punchline/explanation, bc it makes it easier to feel like there are things happening. it was harder in the earlier eps for this arc (specifically 169, where we breezed past the eight demon kings - it felt fast bc while the solution was simple, we didn't have build up or time spent with them!) but now we're actively giving time for the punchline / for the action to run its course, which i really like. YAY!

that's all from me this time, i'm very excited to see what they'll do next,,, finally the railroad will be started!!! see y'all then!!!

#tged #the greatest estate developer #tged spoilers #the greatest estate designer #lynn misc #lloyd frontera #tged lloyd #credos #tged javier #javier asrahan #while i enjoyed this ep personally i am aware that some others didn't... actually not just this ep but this arc LMFAO #so like whenever i see ppl talking abt this arc in context w novel spoilers it ends up being censored #and u know that video bit where the guys have to spell the word TREAT so that the other guy doesnt realize thats what theyre talking abt #i feel like that guy LMFAO like “what'cha talkin' about :3” “nothin enjoy ur manhwa” HAHAHA #not at all mad or upset (im actually rlly glad im not being spoiled) i just think the situations funny LOL #ignorance is bliss as they say!

38 notes · View notes

sidesteppostinghours · 1 year ago

Text

VOTE BLAZE FOR FHR TUMBLR SEXYMAN

now why on earth would i, a humble man, ask the people to vote for blaze over ricardo? what basis could i possibly have to convince you to consider him over (arguably) los diablos most eligible bachelor?? friends, i come to you with two simple arguments:

1. blaze shows a surprising amount of depth when you dive under the flashy exterior

2. i cannot stress enough how funny it would be to watch ortega lose in the first round

blaze is undeniably a suave, arrogant asshole who desperately needs somebody to kick his ass. hes a little prick to the puppet (if theyre male, if theyre female he switches his tune Damn Quick) and he somehow managed to fumble chen??? which is frankly embarrassing for him.

However. however. hes shown in both very small interactions when you meet him and during the actual fight to be a competent, strategic hero who cares about the people. as step points out, when the puppet stumbles over him his immediate reaction is to treat them like somebody who needed help. during the fight, he first takes the time to strategize, making sure to dial back his powers to make sure nobody gets hurt– to the point that he hinders himself. even chen says that blaze always had careful control, to the point where if you fry him in the meeting room, chen suspects somethings up.

hes also surprisingly reasonable about step, giving serious thought to what they say and do regardless of how cruel of a villain they are. yeah ok ortega has the 'sympathetic' villain relationship status but does that really do anything about his perceptions of them??? he still readily calls them a monster during the villain reveal. meanwhile it takes one(1) conversation with blaze to get him questioning his bosses, and it literally does not matter how many people youve killed, he ends up pestering alvarez about it anyway. i firmly believe that hes put a lot more thought about the problems in the system he works under, even if he puts more faith in it than he should.

anyway thats enough serious propaganda, heres the sillier ones: hes such a loser. like 24/7 nonstop. this man is utterly pathetic. i know i talked about how good he is as a hero but listen to me. he gets all dismissive about a step that has less than 55 infamy, but i have 9 steps (though i only talk about 4). i have lost to him by accident Once. i have to codedive so i can lose to him On Purpose for the achievement it is so bad. it is so funny watching all the ways he can eat shit during that fight. truly the pinnacle of bisexual failboy.

I ALMOST FORGOT THAT HE ACCIDENTALLY KINDA OUTS HIS CONNECTION WITH CHEN BECAUSE HE WAS BEING SALTY??? LIKE

POV YOU KEEP YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH THE MARSHAL OF LOS DIABLOS SECRET FOR MONTHS ONLY TO POTENTIALLY EXPOSE IT TO A RANDO BCAUSE YOU WERE MAD ABOUT BEING EXES.

it has also come to my attention via @allens-chocolate-dreams that rat king can become his fan if step falls out the window again and this is extremely important to me.

can rat king be a fan of ortega??? no, because ortega is a loser whos immune to telepathy. very clear whos superior here imo. oh and im probably legally required to say that he has fire powers which makes him objectively hotter than ortega.

finally and most importantly,

if blaze wins i will draw ric dying in a glue trap.

#did i search up blaze sections within the code just to reread them and make points for this propaganda?#dont even worry about it #im. really really sorry this turned out to be more of a character study than a propoganda post for sexyman????#ig this is for the literary analysis whores #honestly my favourite scene is when he kills a civilian by accident and i Really wish that was touched upon more #because jesus christ. thats /messed/#i hope he becomes sopping wet in the next game about the horror of accidentally murdering someone #anyways yes #vote blaze fhr tumblr sexyman 2k24 #captain blaze #ortega #fhr #pulp speaks #fhr sexyman tournament

59 notes · View notes

blrecs · 2 months ago

Text

06/50: love me at my most cringe ("punch drunk love," "my dearest patrolman," "happy crappy life")

In manga, love is often said to be a game, and the first one to fall, or at least to admit to falling, is "the loser." But what exactly being the loser in a game of love means only manifests in unhappy scenarios: the winner doesn't need to invest, can use the loser's feelings for their own advantage, is not hurt by endings, can remain aloof and pursue their own life. If you intend to write a story about two people happily and peacefully coexisting with each other in a relationship, these are useless.

In happy love stories, then, where two people carry on in just such bliss, love is not a game. Love is patient, love is kind, and above all, love is honest. The winner is in fact the character who first declares, "I'm in love with you." Being true to your own feelings is a weapon, disarming and potent. It puts the recipient of your feelings on the backfoot. Instead of having the upper hand, they are forced to respond to you, and because this is a happy love story, that response is to return your feelings.

At this point in the essay you are probably expecting me to devolve into heartfelt sentiment. I have asserted in previous weeks that boys' love is about the transformative power of love, after all. But this week I read three stories that take this theme and push it even further in an unexpected direction. Love may be patient, may be kind, but above all love is cringe. It is not only undesirable to be cool, but to be cool is to be false to yourself, and thus an impediment to achieving love. To be cringe is to be free, and true love is being loved at your most cringe, when you are freely being yourself.

Seonwoo, the main character of "Punch Drunk Love," is honest and direct to a fault. Though he presents outwardly as a mousey accountant, he is the most domineering character in the series—it's just that all that dictatorial energy is directed towards living exactly the life he wants. Since childhood he has always done exactly what he wanted to do and worn exactly the clothes he liked, and he is not about to start changing now, unless it's in service of getting dick from the object of his love and overwhelming lust, Jeong Taemoon.

As in so many Korean webtoons, one character's rich family (in this case, Taemoon's) becomes the plot device and main villain. But all the money and chaebol power in the world is no match for Seonwoo. Years of living like a slut in his fantasy sheets and an offputtingly dweeby virgin in the streets have given him the strongest mental of any character I've ever met in a bl romcom. Like a koala who will eat only eucalyptus leaves despite the fact the literal toxins in them prevent proper consumption, Seonwoo is sustained by a rich inner life only he can maintain, and he will only accept the parts of reality that add positively to it. It doesn't matter that the sadistic bdsm dungeon master sex god version of Jeong Taemoon only exists in his head and is a fantasy that embarrasses the hell out of the real Taemoon every time it comes out; it doesn't matter that his clothing choices are so disastrous they misled Taemoon into thinking Seonwoo was being abused by his family; it doesn't matter that no one in his office likes him and he might get sent to a rural office just so people can stop interacting with his (very correct) ideas about accounting. Seonwoo is who he is, and he lives that life proudly.

So where does that leave Taemoon? In the face of such unwavering devotion to cringe, he (and eventually his father) must admit defeat. He learns to give up the cool facade he puts up at work. He learns to see the world Seonwoo's way. He learns to be cringe, to be vulnerable, to ask for what he wants—which is love, of course. It is always love. Clothes in "Punch Drunk Love" are an outward manifestation of the bravery in being cringe, so of course when Taemoon is finally filmed confessing his devotion to Seonwoo (with the help of Seonwoo's sister), it is in an extremely cringe outfit consisting entirely of Seonwoo's tasteless clothes. By the end of the series, he regularly submits himself to wearing the flashy clothing Seonwoo picks for him. By borrowing the power of Seonwoo's cringe, Taemoon is at his best.

In "My Dearest Patrolman," cringe manifests in the realities of being in love with a man who is the human embodiment of a dad joke, despite having only a child of the cat variety. Seiji is almost 40 and made prematurely old by his profession, where he routinely deals with young kids and old men. Shin, no spring chicken himself at 30, is kept young by his relationship to Seiji. He is forever the delinquent high schooler smoking outside a convenience store, and Seiji is forever the cheerful uncle who went out of his way to get to know that young kid.

The dasai oyaji is, of course, a common type, and the pairing of the sloppy old man who is reluctantly, then enthusiastically, soulbonded to his young, uptight partner is why "Tiger and Bunny" remains an undying favorite among fujoshi. The charm of "My Dearest Policeman" is the way Seiji's character leans into the trope and doesn't give in to the temptation to make Seiji cool. There is no scene where, say, Seiji suddenly shaves and transforms into a handsome dashing zaddy in a suit or displays competency that makes him the object of a minor female character's affections, to Shin's dismay. Seiji remains, through all three volumes, a little out of shape with a belly threatening to sprout a spare tire. He scratches his butt, picks his ears and nose, and has to get a colorectal exam (he is at the age where prostate health is important). But Niyama never pushes it too far—he's never unloveable or disgusting, just so down to earth and realistic that you feel all 39 years of his age with him.

Where sex in "Punch Drunk Love" is still the stuff of fantasy, like when there is an unexpected callback to a fantasy involving Taemoon squirting (!!) while in Seonwoo (!!!), sex in "My Dearest Patrolman" is funny and tender and realistic. There are no acrobatic sex positions on the stairs, no attempt at being the domineering seme or seductive uke, no roleplaying or putting on sexy baby voices. Seiji and Shin jokingly complain about laundry while rubbing against each other, compare each other's bodies to daifuku buns, are kept from another round by hunger pangs. There's a surprising amount of explicit scenes in "My Dearest Patrolman," but the overall vibe is hardly sexy. The word I'd use instead is "domestic." The sex scenes feel individual, personal to who Seiji and Shin are, with interactions that are sexy to them and them only. If they embarrass the reader, it is of no consequence to Seiji and Shin, who enthusiastically get it on regardless. During one sex scene in volume one, Seiji makes a joke about "mommy's milk" that would have absolutely withered my erection if I were Shin—but it does nothing to deter Shin, who immediately starts to jerk Seiji off. Cringe is truly in the eye of the beholder, and for Shin and Seiji, there is nothing about the other that isn't loveable.

In the company of "Punch Drunk Love" and "My Dearest Patrolman," "Happy Crappy Life" may seem like an outlier. As of volume three, its characters are not exactly in a relationship one would describe as blissful married coexistence. Kasuya and Kuzuya are dancing around a relationship (despite Harada putting them through raising a tentacle monster, playing sudden death rock-paper-scissors over who gets the honor of getting plowed, and fighting over a pen shaped like a skewer of dango for, ahem, Reasons), and it is very much the kind of story that believes the first to fall in love is the loser. The only saving grace will be that Kasuya and Kuzuya have both fallen for each other, and fittingly, they are both the loser.

But if there is one thing Kasuya and Kuzuya represent, it is living loud and proud with your dick out. They like what they like, and what they like happens to be getting fucked. If commitment is usually about sharing burdens and being there for each other through sickness and through health, Kasuya and Kuzuya's commitment is to something weirder but no less serious: two fuck buddies who will always be there for each other('s anal play) no matter how shameful or ridiculous their desires.

"Punch Drunk Love" is about learning to love your partner's cringe. "My Dearest Patrolman" is about loving in the face of everyone else's cringe. "Happy Crappy Life," of course, is the most extreme: love that is only possible because of cringe. When Kasuya's ex-girlfriend Tsubasa comes to visit, she validates what we've all been suspecting, that the Kasuya she knew was cooler, smarter, more mature. If either Kasuya or Kuzuya could date someone else, they could probably become more responsible and respectable people. They'd leave behind this common law marriage of sexual convenience, where they spend their lives happily preoccupied with playground level antics, only with dildos involved. But Tsubasa, like everyone in the series with the exception of Kasuya and Kuzuya themselves, sees that the real Kasuya can only come out when he is with Kuzuya. The Kasuya she knew couldn't truly let his freak flag fly. The truth is that they find in each other, and only in each other, the freedom to be their true cringey selves.

And, well, that too is love!

Punch Drunk Love is available on Lezhin. My Dearest Policeman is available from SuBLime. Happy Crappy Life is available from Kuma.

#50 weeks 500 words #niyama #harada #my dearest patrolman #punch drunk love #happy kuso life

10 notes · View notes

m00n-mind · 1 month ago

Text

Title: Smoky Velvets

Pairing: Hogwarts Legacy MC x Sophronia Franklin

Summary: Everyone had a theory about who the new fifth year was sweet on— especially the faculty. Perhaps it’s any one of that ragtag team that they always return to. Sebastian Sallow. Ominis Gaunt. Maybe even Amit Thakkar.

But when their Amortentia vial turns up inconclusive, a staff betting pool is thrown into chaos. Until a hallway collision, a third year Ravenclaw, and a trail of familiar scents soon unravel the truth.

It isn’t who they thought.

It never is.

Whispers echoed off the walls of the Great Hall. It was that time of year again— when Professor Sharp took it upon himself to blow off some steam with the innocent fifth years. The one day every year that made all the explosions, failed brews, and amateur mistakes worth it.

Amortentia.

Danger and addiction in a bottle— the strongest love potion known to wizarding kind. The perfect excuse to tease his students. And if he gained an extra few hundred galleons on the side in the faculty betting pool, well that’s just an added bonus.

This year, Sharp found himself out of luck when the mysterious new fifth year reported back nothing of substantial use for a win among the staff.

Notes of spice and sweetness— vanilla, cinnamon, nutmeg, faint lingering coconut. All too vague yet describes the essence of comfort and love. It could be anyone, or no one.

Perhaps the young student had no eyes set on the two young Slytherin boys, as Sharp and Professor Ronen had assumed. No mention of the worn leather scent that lingered to Mr. Sallow’s old books. No whisper of Mr. Gaunt’s ever-present sandalwood musk and seawater cologne. Not a single trace.

At least him and Professor Ronen would not be the only losers tonight, Sharp muses.

Professor Shah, who rarely indulged in such faculty diversions, would be greatly disappointed to find that her galleons placed on Mr. Thakkar would be lost. Star-gazing partners is what she claimed they were, a romantic endeavor for two fifth year students. Surely there would be the distinct dust of moonstone, or stardust. But no, there was nothing of the sort. Professor Sharp already has an inkling that this is the last time Professor Shah will ever let herself invest in such affairs.

It would seem that none of the professors were close to guessing the object of the fifth year’s affections. Not even the student’s dear Professor Fig, their closest mentor, who was also adamant that it would be Mr. Sallow.

It would have been amusing, all of it, if Sharp hadn’t been just as wrong.

So when he turned a corner and collided—literally—with a third-year Ravenclaw, it took a second too long to recognize what had hit him.

Sophronia Franklin. Apologetic. Mortified. Practically shrinking into herself.

Normally impatient, with very little tolerance for wasted time and bumbling students, Sharp did his best to hold his tongue. Because something kept him frozen in time. Something familiar.

A warm, dizzying wave of vanilla perfume overwhelmed his senses. It was common for students to apply way too much perfume to mask their sweat and despair.

Then came the second assault—cookies scattering across the floor, releasing cinnamon and nutmeg into the air. A sharp tickle caught in his throat and a cough was shared between the two of them.

Ms. Franklin’s face was scarlet beneath the castle’s dim lighting as she dropped to gather the mess. “My coquito cookies,” she muttered, embarrassed as she fumbled to salvage whatever was left of her treats.

Coquito. Of course. A drink Sharp hadn’t known until the new fifth year had once shared it after class, calling it a muggle tradition from the Caribbean—a taste of home, they’d said.

Why would Ms. Franklin have cookies inspired by the beverage?

Well, unless—

“Professor Sharp, is something burning in your classroom? It smells like pine wood,” Ms. Franklin remarks softly, drawing Sharp from his thoughts once again.

No. There can’t be. The classroom had been cleared out hours ago.

Only remains of the unused Amortentia lingered.

A moment of recognition. Then a chill traveled along Sharp’s spine.

There was only one student at Hogwarts who consistently carried the scent of open campfires and pine—the kind of smoke that clung no matter how much they scrubbed, how deeply they perfumed with bourbon tobacco oil.

The Hero of Hogwarts, who Ms. Franklin and many others of the student body, deeply admired.

Sweet vanilla and smoky woods— together creating a scent profile with undertones of cinnamon and bourbon.

A genius mixture. So much so that Sharp almost regretted the fact that he did not think of it first. An explanation for the lack of answers provided by the Amortentia.

Sharp stared after Sophronia as she hurried off, arms full of broken cookies, head bowed in embarrassment.

None of the professors could have predicted it.

Not even him.

However, it all was startlingly clear now to him.

Sharp has seen too many students fall for intensity— young drama and flare dressed as passion. This, though, was gentler. Not built from stories of the Forbidden Forest and Ashwinder camps, but from shared trivia nights in the library and an affection for coconut based sweets.

If anyone had earned a quiet kind of love, it was the student who bore the weight of a hero. And if anyone could offer it, it was the girl who kept her nose in the books with a stash of cookies on hand.

Perhaps they were too young to understand it now, the shape of what was budding between them. But there was something unmistakable in the story told by the vial of Amortentia.

Sharp, through his skepticism and indifference, found that he didn’t mind the thought.

8 notes · View notes

pareidolla · 6 months ago

Note

also I know I just sent an ask, and I forgot to slap this in that ask but uh.

you made me ship broken x cage.

like I did appreciate their dynamic earlier, but then you kinda just cemented it and suddenly I'm all over the ship now lolol. they're cute. they are so cute. just two wronged, traumatized people caught in the throes of depression and the futility of existence, yet managing to connect with each other despite it all, or perhaps because of it. I love them. they need therapy. they can hold hands on the way there as he cradles her severed head in his other arm. I don't even know anymore they are just so cute

also I'm gonna send everything I wanna say to you in the same ask so I'm sorry if this comes out a bit long lol. annoying kouhai nev strikes again /lh

the thing about not really self shipping despite the straight up simping. finally, someone gets it. (which is probably a little funny since I might be one of the many reasons behind that disclaimer. oops.)

do I love the thorn? yes. do I call her my wife on a daily basis? also yes. do I wish she was real? of course. would she even so much as spare me a second glance if she was real? probably not. and if she did look at me, it would most likely be because Someone is Being A Weirdo and she's appropriately being a little freaked out.

better for her that I don't exist in her life; she has enough to deal with already. just because I wanna kiss her, doesn't mean I wholeheartedly believe that I should be kissing her. there's a difference. I acknowledge her existence very much but she really doesn't need to acknowledge mine. It's a little embarrassing.

so seeing your post about Broken was actually kind of nice. someone else put it into words for once.

(that ain't gonna stop me from projecting either, though. why do I see the Voice of the Cheated as a small dramatic loud loser gamer boy with scars who swears a lot? because I am a small dramatic loud loser gamer boy with scars who also swears a lot. and he gets to be with thorn. so I live vicariously through it when I, say, make him trace along the edges of her pointed ears and clasp her scarred hands in his own.)

p.s. your art is fucking amazing and there is just something crunchy about your art style that I cannot quite place

p.p.s. I fucking thank this account for existing. everyone else has birdboy designs and it makes me feel like I am doing something wrong in this fandom sometimes. so at least there's another one here too even if you do it objectively better lmao

nevvey dearie hello again!! i apologize, but i'm holding your second ask in inbox jail for the time being. i want to draw something for it, but i'm not sure when i'll get to it (*gestures to the reqs, questions, bingos, ask game pile*)

i'm so glad to have someone else who ships cage/broken!! they're so darling i love them with my whole heart. i mentioned it already but i'd love to write something for them someday - i think their personalities could mesh quite well together and they'd have a sweet, mellow romance. prettiest couple in the construct fr

(actually i'm still debating on who's canonically the prettiest in my canon but shhhhh)

super happy there's someone else in the same boat as me haha. oh but please don't blame yourself for the disclaimer, it wasn't one person who prompted me into making it but several dozen small interactions i've had over the half-year. nobody can read minds, and it's normal to assume that if i express my desire to marry broken all the time then i'll be just as thrilled to hear broken reciprocates those feelings. like no one should feel guilty over it - i'm not mad nor do i hold any negative feelings to anyone lmao

the main reason for the post, arguably, wasn't even on this site; rather, it's because i've seen yume spaces where people can be so devoted to their yume that they block doubles or experience such strong feelings of envy/ discomfort that they feel nauseous. i respect and sympathize with them, but i don't relate to it, and i don't want anyone to think that only i'm allowed to like broken. like no i want you to like my boyfriend. the ao3 well is drying up please someone kiss that sad bird on the mouth!

and aww thank you dearie!! again i'm very flattered you love my artwork especially since you're so skilled yourself ♡♡ means a lot. and doubly-so on having someone else making shoujo anime designs makes me feel more confident in mine haha

AND MINE AREN'T OBJECTIVELY BETTER ❗️❗️❗️I HAVEN'T EVEN SHOWN MOST OF MY UPDATED BOYS YET ❗️❗️❗️ YOURS ARE SO DELIGHTFUL ALREADY ❗️❗️❗️ DO NOT SELL YOURSELF SHORT

#ack ive been only responding to my new asks i really need to actually finish off my inbox :dusts:#i promise if you're in my inbox i am not ignoring you i love you dearly i am just a mess who can't finish anything #﹙ ✦ ﹚ fly‚ little bird.

7 notes · View notes

declawedwildcat · 3 months ago

Note

4 tell me which protag had the most terribl, horrible, no good, very bad time

I had a #1 in mind for this one easily but tbh placing the other ones was harder than I expected. There's a clear winner and loser to me, the middle 3 are mostly vying for scraps. Least to most:

5. Towa — I'm going to be honest. most of what happens to Towa he either explicitly seeks out or is not putting any ounce of effort into avoiding. Yes, yes, there's a whole conversation to be had about his trauma and why he enjoys the things he does, as well as that trauma itself being horrific in its own right, but he's repressed that shit well enough that he can reach happy endings without even beginning to unpack any of it. Honestly a good percentage of the plot is just other people's problems that he happens to get roped into, depending on how attached he is to the person in question. If he had just stopped doing euphoric sessions most of his own suffering would've been avoided. But then again he enjoyed those, so. Either way this man's nihilism and apathy disqualifies him from having a Bad Time because jokes on you he's into that shit (a canonical point that he makes in one scene)

4. Aoba — He's the one who got some degree of reputation as Having A Rough Time, but I'd say that's just because his game got the most attention. Objectively, Aoba's load is fairly light in most cases. The stakes are higher, given that the plot is a take-over-the-world type, but apart from Mink's route and getting a bit roughed-up here and there in the common route, most of his adversities are pretty standard fare for an action protagonist. And to get meta about it, all his bad ends are quite short since they got cut for time and moved to Re:Connect instead, where they also didn't really extend them plot-wise apart from Clear's and maybe Virus/Trip. His lows are pretty low, but most timelines he gets off easy apart from the damage all that stress is probably going to do on him.

3. Konoe — I was initially going to put him lower, but taking a step back, he's probably got the most dire circumstances globally regardless of personal scope. Before anything even starts the plot that we're actually here for, we're already shown that things are pretty shit for his whole continent and species; to some extent the vibe I got from his village was that they were simply trying to stretch things out as long as possible, delaying the inevitable as they more or less prepared to die out. Due to fantasy magic shenanigans we're in actual take-over-the-world territory plot-wise so everyone outside the village is also pretty stressed. On the personal side, though, I would say he's mostly a victim of the typical hero's journey. A few of his bad ends are a little rough, and he takes a couple pretty serious hits in the climax fights of good ones too, but he spends a bigger percentage of the time in interpersonal drama, empath pain™, and embarrassment over lack of common sense on account of not having parents than he spends in actual danger. But he does also have to deal with things like possession and his entire existence being a curse of his father's disastrous situationship, so it's not like everything is sunshine and roses.

2. Akira — You're starting off on a bad foot when the catalyst for your plot is being framed for murder and getting an ultimatum to either join a battle royale or take the death penalty for it. Akira acts like he has a devil-may-care attitude about the surrounding horrors to the other characters, but everything affects him a lot more than he pretends to, and ultimately I decided to put him this high because even though the stakes are arguably not as high for his world at large (the war will resolve itself the same way no matter what, because he has no part to play in it) on an individual level, even when he gets good endings he still has to endure assault, rape, and in most cases, the death of his only friend. His bad ends aren't as harsh as the other games, but neither are his happily ever afters free from any sting.

and finally, 1. YOUJI. My fucking god. The entire game was just awful for him, on top of a rough backstory, and then there was not even ONE timeline where it all works out. He just experiences non-stop horrors until an inevitable sorry end. The flavor of that end might change slightly, from the "best" bittersweet ones to rancid hellstates for him, but there is no scenario in which this man will reach his 20th birthday. He's not even the only one to feel sorry for in this game as like at least 75% of the cast are victims in one form or another, but Youji truly never caught a break at any point. Not one thing went right for him. Somebody get this poor kid an ice cream and a heating pad. Probably some ibuprofen.

{"Make me stack-rank my toxic yaoi" asks}

#ask game #answers #chiral rankings #nitro+chiral

5 notes · View notes

elementaldoughnut12 · 5 months ago

Text

"Surprise at Dinner"

*Finally wrote another fic of my StrickPage family au! In this Swerve is 38, Adam is 36 and Will is 4*

Doughnut Team: @afterdarkprincess @powderflower (I know you loved baby Will!)

“Another successful attack in the bag!” Swerve says with a laugh as he walks to his dressing room. He just finished beating Ricochet over the back with a chain in the middle of the ring as payback. “Serves that loser right for stabbing me with scissors a few weeks ago” he says to himself. Hurting someone can really make a guy hungry as he hears his stomach growl. “Damn, should've asked Nana to get me something before he left” he says as he rubs his empty stomach.

He makes it to the door of his dressing room but before he enters, he hears people whispering inside. “What the fuck?” he asks himself as he slowly opens the door. The lights are off and he hears movement. “If yall don't want ya asses kicked, I suggest you come out right now!” He warns as he turns on the light. “Surprise!” The two people say with excitement. The people in the room were none other than his husband, Adam, and their four year old son, Will.

“What are you two doing here? I thought you went back to the hotel?” Swerve asks with a smile as he walks over to his family. “We wanted to surprise you so we got food for all of us! Also because you're hard headed and refuse to eat before a segment” Adam says as he bounces Will a bit in his arms. “We got you your favorite too but you said a naughty word!” Will says with a pout, causing Adam to gasp. “That's right baby he did! He also said he was gonna kick our butts! Do you think he deserves to eat Will?” Adam asks curiously, causing Will to giggle. “I don't know mommy!” Will says through giggles

Swerve wraps his arms around Adam and Will. “I'm sorry for cursing” he says quietly as he kisses Adam deeply. “I promise I'm not gonna kick your butt, little chicken” Swerve promises as he kisses his son's cheek, causing him to giggle even more. “I forgive you honey, you forgive him baby?” Adam asks Will with a smile. “Food time!” Will says happily with his hands in the air. “You heard the baby! Food time!” Adam says with a laugh as they both walk back to the couch.

“Thank lord! If I didn't get any food in me soon I probably would've eaten somebody!” Swerve says, causing Will to gasp. “You'd even eat their butt?!?” Will asks curiously. “Nah, I only do that to mommy!” Swerve says, causing his son to laugh and his husband to slap him on the arm. “You gonna keep being weird or do you want some McDonald's?” Adam asks as he shakes the bag. “Food please” Swerve says desperately as he stomach growls loudly.

“I love a man who begs” Adam says with a smirk as he reaches into the bag and gives Swerve his cheeseburger. “You got me the right one right?” Swerve asks as he opens the wrapper. “You really think I'd forget your order? I know you like a cheeseburger with all the fixins” Adam says casually when he gives Will his happy meal but freezes when he realizes he embarrassed himself. “Lord your country twang is adorable” Swerve says as he kisses Adam's cheek and then digs into his burger.

Adam is a flustered mess when he grabs his nuggets from the bag and silently eats. He tries to get his mind back on track and think of what to say. “So how was your segment?” Adam asks curiously as he eats a nugget. “Good as always! Finally taught that nerd Ricochet a lesson” Swerve says smugly. “What did you even do to him daddy? Mommy wouldn't let me watch!” Will says with a mouth full of fries. They don't let Will watch any of their segments if they know it'll involve blood because they don't wanna traumatize him.

“First baby don't talk with your mouth full and second all I did was tell him that hitting people with sharp objects could be very dangerous and really hurt someone! I also told him that I'm gonna kick his butt next week!” Swerve says proudly. “Woah! You're so cool daddy!” Will says excitedly as he continues eating his food. “Did you really just do a parent teaching moment? You're really trying to make up for the butt eating thing earlier aren't you?” Adam asks with a laugh.

“Happy wife, happy life right? Anyways, how was your segment babe?” Swerve asks his husband. “Kinda boring, I had to pretend to go to your room and look for ya then I got stopped by MJF” Adam says with a sigh. “That bad huh?” Swerve asks curiously as he throws away his wrapper. “Definitely! He's so draining! Then he wouldn't stop accusing me of doing inappropriate things to a horse! Made me really uncomfortable” Adam explains as he throws away his nugget box.

“Aww, poor baby! I know what could make you feel better!” Swerve says as he lays his head on Adam's lap. Adam automatically clocks what his husband is trying to do. “How does feeding you fries gonna make me feel better?” Adam asks with his arms crossed. “It'll take your mind off our disgusting coworkers?” Swerve says with a cheeky grin, causing Adam to roll his eyes. “You're lucky I love you” Adam says with a smile as he starts feeding Swerve some fries.

“I got to do a segment thingy too!” Will says excitedly, which surprises Swerve. “You did?” Swerve asks with a surprised tone. “I let him do a segment with Kenny while I did mine. No big deal” Adam explains casually as he continues feeding Swerve. “You should've seen it daddy! We did some flips and landed on big bro Kyle and Konosuke! Then uncle Kenny carried me all the way up a metal pole where we could see the whole arena!” Will explains, causing Adam to freeze and for Swerve to nearly choke on a fry.

“What?” Swerve asks as he sits up and quickly drinks some water. “I thought it was just a talking segment!” Adam says worryingly. Will frowned when he felt he'd done something wrong. “Does that mean I'm in trouble?” Will says as tears stream down his cheeks. “No baby! Absolutely not! You're ok!” Swerve says reassuringly as he puts Will in his lap. “We're just surprised you would go up that high! You're such a brave boy!” Adam says proudly which makes their son feel a bit better.

“Really? You're not mad at me?” Will asks through sniffles. “We would never be mad at you sweetheart! We love you too much to ever be mad at you!” Adam says sweetly as he gently wipes away Will's tears. “Mommy's right little chicken! If you keep learning to do flips and be comfortable with heights, you might become a wrestler some day like us!” Swerve says happily which catches Will's attention. “Really?!?” Will asks excitedly. “Honey, you sure about actually training him?” Adam asks a bit worryingly.

“Why not? It'll probably help with his autism and he always says he wants to be a wrestler like us when he gets older so what's the problem?” Swerve asks curiously. Adam gives him a concerned look, which causes Swerve to sigh. “Hey Will? Grandpa Nana got you a present! How about you go look for it in my bag while I talk to mommy for a minute ok?” Swerve says which excites Will. “OK daddy!” Will says happily as he hops off Swerve's lap and runs to his gym bag in the nearby room.

Swerve scoots closer to Adam on the couch. “Adam” he says gently and receives nothing in response. He gets even closer to where their knees are touching and gently holds Adam's hands. “You wanna tell me what's wrong with the idea of training our son?” Swerve asks quietly as he gently caresses Adam's hands with his thumbs. Adam takes a deep breath and starts to speak.

“I don't want him to end up screwed up like I am” Adam says truthfully. “Why do you think you're screwed up?” Swerve asks curiously but he probably already knows the answer. “Come on Swerve, have you seen what I've done to you? How every match we've had during our feud has ruined me? I just don't want Will to end up so broken and full of anger just like me when he's older” Adam explains with tears streaming down his face.

“Oh Adam” Swerve says sadly as he pulls his husband into a hug. “I'm sorry, I'm trying so hard to be a good husband and mom and I'm already screwing it up!” Adam says through tears. “You're a great mommy! Why are you bullying yourself?” Will asks curiously, which causes Adam to freeze up again. “I-It's nothing baby! Mommy's fine!” Adam says as he tries to wipe his tears away. Will didn't believe that so he gets up on the couch, with Swerve's help, and gets in Adam's face.

“You're a great mommy! Say it!” Will says confidently which surprises Adam a bit. “I'm a great mommy” Adam says quietly, Will shaking his head in disappointment. “Louder gosh darn it!” Will says, which makes Adam smile a bit. “I'm a great mommy!” Adam says with a big smile on his face. “Good! Now stop bullying yourself ok cause I don't like when you cry” Will says sweetly, causing Adam to quietly laugh. “OK baby I promise” Adam says sweetly as he kisses his son's forehead.

“Where's your present Will? I thought you left to go get it from my bag?” Swerve asks with a smile. “Oh! Umm, I'll be right back!” Will says embarrassingly as he runs back to the other room. “He's definitely our kid!” Adam says through giggles. “Yeah he is, he's also right about what he said” Swerve says as he gets back close to Adam again. “About me being a great mom?” Adam asks curiously, his husband nodding in response.

“Well I'm glad I have you two to remind me also I don't mind training Will but let's do baby steps first ok? I also think I gotta have a long serious talk with Kenny about child safety…again” Adam says which makes Swerve laugh. “You're such a cute mommy and wifey” Swerve says with a smirk as he kisses Adam deeply. Adam lets out a squeak when Swerve adds his tongue. When Swerve parts, Adam is blushing like he did on their wedding night.

“Like I said, a cute wifey” Swerve says sweetly. “I found it!” Will says excitedly as the little four year old runs back into the room. “What'd you get, baby?” Swerve asks curiously with a smile. Will shows off his present which is a stuffed blue dinosaur. It's blue in color, weighted and made with corduroy that's soft to the touch. “It's a dinosaur!” Will says happily as he bounces in place. “That's so cool baby! What's his name gonna be?” Adam asks as he tries to look less flustered.

Will thinks about it for a second before letting out a big smile. “Blueberry!” Their son says confidently. “That's such a cool name, little chicken! Fits him perfectly!” Swerve says happily, causing his son to giggle. The two watch their son play with his new plushie for a few minutes until they hear the little boy yawn. “Are you tired baby?” Adam asks sweetly, Will slowly nods his head “no” in response. “No mommy” Will says as he rubs his eyes. “I think you are baby, I think it's time we head back to the hotel huh?” Adam offers as he gently picks up Will and lays him against his shoulder.

Will doesn't say anything as he's already fast asleep. “He's so precious” Adam says with a soft smile. “I'm so glad we get to raise him together” Swerve says affectionately as he grabs their stuff. “Do you two really think I'm a good mom?” Adam asks curiously. “Adam, all moms have their flaws but that doesn't make them any less of one! If you don't believe that you're a good mom, then I guess me and Will have to remind you every single day until you do believe it” Swerve says with a confident grin.

Adam leans in and kisses Swerve and when they part, Adam's blushing and grinning wide. “I love you both so much” Adam says truthfully. “Love you too cowboy, now let's giddy up back to the hotel!” Swerve says with a goofy western accent, causing Adam to laugh. “Whatever you say partner” Adam says back as he follows Swerve out the door with their son in tow. He's glad he's got the two best cheerleaders to remind him how special he is.

#family au my beloved #i missed writing strickpage #strickpage #hangman adam page #swerve strickland #will ospreay #fic doughnut #daily doughnut

2 notes · View notes