#but i like the writing and it's like three scenes from completion!! but i can't bring myself to be happy with where i brought the plot 😔

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 6!!!

[kneworder]

i have all these draft documents of half finished fics full of lines i love but that are so fundamentally flawed i can't figure out how to finish them and can't kill my darlings mercilessly enough to get past the roadblocks so i just reread them over and over and think damn this is kinda fire. wish it was anywhere near shareable.

[wonryllis]

watermelon sugar (m) | sim jaeyun.

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ぃ ────𝗶𝗳 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗻 𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗮𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁?

preview. he’s the sweetest to you, one might confuse him for your boyfriend, but he’s not, he just your fuckboy of a roommate who treats you like a delicate candy, always looking out for you and never at you; or so you think.

or where, jake can't seem to get you off his mind no matter how hard he tries.

meet the cast. simp sim jaeyun(jake) with his obsession fem!reader

genre. and they were roommates trope, fuckboy soft for his girl trope, SMUT MDNI!!!, lots of toothrooting fluff, tiny speck of angst but not proper angst, drunk confessions?, only one who can control him/her trope, happy happy ending, crack/humor, domestic scenes(newly added) college fuckboy athelete roommate!jake with his candy!roommate girl. computer science & programming major!reader, exercise physiology major!jake, nonidol!au, soccer player!jake.

word count. 13,488 unedited! it's word vomit.

warnings. fingering, dry humping, dirty talkkk lots and lots of it, nasty freak jake with innocent(seems to be) girlie, experienced x inexperienced(virgin but has idea), pussy slapping, somewhat drunk sex but there's consent consent, oral (m rec.) different scenes, p in v (unprotected! but pls pls pls do not do this ever use protection!!!!!) multiple orgasms (f.rec), overstimuation(f.rec) and somewhat (m.rec), spitting? slight nipple play, jake is rough and filthy, with heavyyyyy corruption kink it's all throughout the story, strength kink, size difference “i worship the ground you walk on” energy but still dominant jake, jake has soooo many dirty inner thoughts about you it's innumerable. he's a simp for you so you're a slut for him— i guess that's them?

theme song. animals by maroon 5 (jake pov), into you by ariana grande (yn pov)

﹙★﹚ ࣪DRABBLES (find them here)

` author notes. im sorry for making you guys wait three extra weeks I hope y'all still want to read this,, what do i say it was so horrible before the revamp, thankfully it's so much better now and the smut god, it was so hard to write it i hope it's good enough. REBLOGS AND FEEDBACKS ARE HIGHLY ENCOURAGED AND APPRECIATED!!

“i don’t mind this feeling.”

YOU DONT KNOW WHAT TO CALL IT, WHATEVER IS HAPPENING BETWEEN YOU BOTH, BUT YOU LIKE IT. IT FEELS SILLY AND FRAGILE AND GOOD. perhaps a little too good.

god forbid what you had done in your past life to get a roommate like jake, a complete package; a concoction of all classic kinds of roommate one could possibly expect. you aren’t complaining though he takes care of you in every way he possibly could. making you feel like his entire world revolves around you, from his time home to the hours he spends on the field. one would ask anything of him and his answer would surely include you in one way or another, everyone knew it, everyone could see it, the way he feels.

he makes you breakfast, he helps with the cleaning- you both actually have it planned to have a cleaning day every week to polish the apartment. he cooks for you and he does the dishes more often than not, the only exception being the time when you insist deathly on doing it yourself because come on you gotta do at least some thing around the house.

to add to the perfect mixture of god gifted man, he video games in his room with the door shut so that the sound of him shouting at the screen doesn’t disturb you. does the laundry- even your bras and underwear, he’s just too used to those clothings to give a care to get embarrassed (outwardly). he would never admit the way they get him all hot and bothered when he thinks of all the places those fabrics have touched. how wild his imagination runs and all the things he wishes he could do to you. all the sounds he could get, out of you and all the things you'd taste of.

you are his candy (well not exactly ‘his’ but according to him this nickname of yours is only and I repeat only reserved for him) literally because you are all over sweets all the damn time and figureratively because he’d die to have a taste of you; the forbidden fruit of his life, too innocent for a person like him to ruin. but lord would he give up everything to land a chance to lay his hands on you not so innocently.

this man does not give a fuck about who is not you, and maybe occasionally spare a care for his two best friends who so far have only been blessed enough to know your name because jake has made it clear that you're off-limits and if they ever dare to do anything given the opportunity he'd rip off their balls and feed it to ducks (he's serious he swears)

getting to the real point of your dynamic: the only drawback— jake sim is a renowned fuckboy on campus, the heartbreak prince and you, his miss americana as they all like to call it. it is a daily routine, having to find a new girl in the house and ofttimes hearing them even with your door closed and your hands pressed on your ears. at first it felt disgusting, then you got used to it, and now very recently you’ve been feeling weirdly dejected. a certain kind of hatred towards the girls, something you can’t pin point exactly to why and what it is.

“candy, my laptop broke down again!” jake's raspy voice dances through the little cracks of the bathroom door as you prepare for a quick shower. you sigh, tightening the towel wrapped around you before stepping out. a short knock at his batman poster door left ajar, and he's whipping his head to have a look at you as if he knew you'd be in the middle of washing up. a little secret, yes he knew because everytime ahead of bathtime you make sure to have a sip of your watermelon slush stack from the fridge and the sound of it's door reaches his room just right to let him know.

he remains seated on his bed, a sheepish smile on his face. your eyes fall at his desk to see his laptop closed, he tricked you, and like always you fell for it,“maybe if you used your school laptop to study instead of playing games on it, this wouldn't happen all the time. but i assume you probably did it to get me here, it’s not gonna work everytime yun,” you click your tongue in feigned annoyance making him grin wider,“well it does work everytime though,” he knows how to have you on his tail just like you know how to have him wrapped around your finger. it only seems fair, you both know what gets the other going and you use it to your advantage.

“what is it?” asking in a sing song tone, you plop down on his desk chair. spinning in rounds with your legs out swinging, hands gripping onto the arms of the chair while looking up at the phosphorescent glow-in-the-dark stickers you had forcefully put up on the ceiling of his room. a funny memory of jake trying to stop you because it would defeat the whole image of his room only to fold when you gave him the puppy doe eyes, baby talking that you really wanted to do it. it doesn't take much to have jake cave in, just one look from you and the boy is a flatline. fuckboy? he is that to everyone but to you he's practically whatever you want him to be, though you have never really had a talk about it.

“actually eunsang, she-” there is a hesitation is his tone you are well aware of, having almost a clear idea of what he's about to say,“i told- no warned you not to get involved with her for a second time, didn’t i?” you scold, feeling that little twinge of hurt knowing he probably will keep on being involved with girls like this no matter what you say. it's the one thing where you don't have him under your spell. or that's you think, i mean you you have no idea do you of how much he wants you. just like how you have no idea how much you want him.

“yes but it happened and now she’s after me all the time, she even showed up to my soccer practice yesterday! please just this one time, please help me get rid of her,” clamping together his hands in a plea, jake pouts as best as he can, giving you his puppy eyes. but when you don’t show a reaction of any sort he resorts to the next best guaranteed thing: bribery,“i’ll buy you tons of watermelon lollipops! from your favorite brand that too!” eyes sparkling with hope and expections of having you fall for it, like you do every single time, he waits. albeit patterns break, in everything and everyone.

“no, i’m on a diet. i gave up on sweets, what if i get diabetes? will you,” you point at him dramatically,“take responsibility?” to which his stance morphs into one of stunned. he would gladly take responsibility for you at any given chance, but it's one of more gravity and significance than diabetes. and he's sure he's not one you should be in care of as more than anything that you are right now. he's too corrupted and you are too naive.

“yes of course i’ll help you take your meds and-” he mumbles in a quick, hurried note aware that you’ll not let him answer if he’s not fast enough. you still beat him to it though, speaking loud over and above his voice, to drown out his words despite hearing them quite clearly,“will you? NO you will not! so let me just shower peacefully before i get the urge to lock you in the bathroom when you’re in there later,” with a silence after, one that has jake grinning again at your cuteness, you take it as a que to rush out swiftly. trying to make it to the bathroom before he decides to use his strength against you and hold you down wherever he wants. which though hasn't been often, has always left you breathless and flustered to a point you refuse to admit.

training to become an athlete, a buff center forward in comparison to you who barely puts effort into doing even a little bit of yoga once a month. it’s obvious he’ll have you give in if he wants but he’s too sweet to force you. and of course it's obvious, the tension of the strength kink that looms over in the room.

it comes as a shock to you when the next day, the first thing you see waking up in the morning and walking into the living room: is eunsang standing by the kitchen counter. and important point: clad in one of jake’s dress shirts that you recognize from doing his laundry occasionally, pouring herself a glass of water. oh you had to see this coming, this is jake we're talking about will be really ever like ever not bring over girls? no matter if they're clingy or not. the answer is ambiguous and definitely not to your favor.

she’s shares a small smile upon noticing you, a friendly smile which you know is obviously fake. she’s doing it just to look good and polite in jake’s eyes. just to show that she's not bothered by you, because as said everyone knows if they don't like you then they automatically are on jake sim's blacklist. and being the star player of the team, his acquaintance is more or less influential to a large extent, so note to be taken be nice to candy to not be on the cross out list.

however as sad as it is to say it’s of no use. she’s not even there in his eyes to begin with. the moment the jake comes out of his room, his field of vision doesn’t include her. passing by her very visible figure like she’s a microscopic bug to ruffle your hair in a dotting manner, his morning voice coming out in an adoring essence,“good morning, candy,” he smiles and scrunches up his nose when he notices the baby cat you both adopted last month, curled up in the corner of the couch,“and mei,” he acknowledges your pet kitty but not the girl he brought home, that should speak volumes to you, jake thinks. treating you like candy of his world you are, shouldn't that be the ultimate giveaway of his feelings? like even his hookups can see how down bad he is for you why is it that you're the only one who can't? he wants you to know but at the same time he feels he's not right for you, a dilemma he handles by fucking up over and over again.

wishing him morning in response you give him a look which silently delivers your question of what is going on. you did hear them last night (more like her), but you didn’t know it was her her. you weren’t even expecting her to be the one. after the conversation with jake yesterday, she was the last person you would have ever assumed. he sends you a flying look that he’ll explain everything later, shushing you off before you speak out loud.

“yunie,” your ears perk up at her voice, eyes narrowing in a deadly stare at the nickname you exclusively call him with, leaving her crusty mouth. certainly, like jake you blossom a definite possession over names too. perhaps it's the effect of living with him 24/7 but you seem to have picked up a lot of his antics.

jake’s eyes shift to look at you for a moment and then he’s running a hand through his hair, dropping his sweet conduct to get back into his usual cold fuckboy self. he absolutely does not like the way your brows turn down and the pretty smile you were previously adorning for him falling off your pretty lips. he can tolerate anything but seeing you bothered in any way. “you’re still here? it's better if you leave soon, candy doesn’t like all this,” walking around her to the other side of the counter and into the kitchen to open the upper cabinets, jake ignores her like a plague as if he wasn't showing her heaven last night. but alas, nothing comes above you, she should have known that.

“what do you want for breakfast candy? should i make you some toast? or do you want your usual dose of sugar?” his palms rest on the granite countertop, leaning against it slightly while turning to fix his gaze on you. it makes eunsang rage with anger, throwing you a demeaning look before she disappears into jake's room.

the moment his bedroom door closes, you feel the unfamiliar weight on your shoulders relax a tad bit,“my watermelon slush please,” finding your cozy spot on the kitchen counter, you give him your most adorable pout feeling like you had to gain back his warmth after the hookup. your legs dangle over the height between, toes softly brushing against jake's calves every two seconds. watching him prepare your drink, you decide to voice out the thing that had been disturbing since the moment you walked out your room,”did you like make a friends with benefit kind of arrangement or something?” it comes out in a low whisper, afraid if you said it too loud it'd come true. the thought of it disturbs you for some reason, it’s not new for you to see random girls in your apartment; or to hear them while they’re at it. yet it still gives you a sort of uneasy feeling, something you do not like feeling.

“it was a last time kind of deal actually,” he stops briefly to give you a quilty smile. finishing your sweet slushy just as eunsang hastily steps out, wearing what you assume her clothes from the previous night. she slows down to observe as jake hands you the cup, repulsively watching you take a sip,“is it good?” hearing him speak in a tone way different than the one she’s acquainted with him using with her has stomp her way out in a grumpy fit.

looking up from the edge of your cup with hopes to give her a sly stare, your eyes follow her figure, flinching silently when she bangs the door close harshly,“bitch,” you comment, hooded orbs shifting back to jake who scowls in disapproval,”language candy,” he reminds, knowing very well it does nothing to stop you.

“sorry yunie but she's so agressive, and for what?” you whine.

“from what i’ve seen, you’re way more aggressive,” jake laughs softly, index finger coming to poke at your cheek tenderly.

with full cheeks, you grin like a cheshire cat and jake feels his heart rate speeding up, who gave you the permission to be the cutest person he's ever known? the urge to kiss you just keeps growing with each passing day and with with each little sneaky smile and doe eyes you give him.

“we need to get the groceries this week, i have after classes soccer practice for the next four days and we're not gonna last that long,” the thought of spending the next four evenings alone in the unit is gloomier than the half assed ham and cheese toast jake makes for himself. if only you said yes to some proper breakfast, his taste buds and stomach wouldn't be suffering so much.

you nod as if he has eyes on his back, knowing well he's gonna want you with him but not force you, if you'd say no. whatever you want, is whatever he does.

“‘m gonna go take a shower first then,” hopping down, you place your empty mug in the sink, and skip to your room to take your bath supplies.

“let’s shower together,” jake's friskiness thrives in the way he shouts with an undertone of mischief. watching you with a teasing gaze as you step out the threshold of your bedroom door. a tiny smirk spreading onto his lips when you scrunch your nose in a grimace. cute, he mouths thinking you wouldn't notice but god you do. he's clearly joking but you can’t help feeling flustered internally. keeping up with his flirty and touchy stunts and tricks should have made it easier for you by now, but over a year in and you're yet to find yourself getting used to it. he’s too attractive and hot to get used to; at least that’s what excuse your brain gives you, which honestly is true to some extent. his looks score a lot of points and you can't deny that.

“and if we get locked in there, who’s gonna get us out? you know the door lock has problems,” you complain in a soft groan which, in his eyes is more adorable with the little annoyance you show. if you think you could ever intimidate him, you probably will because he'll melt right away to even think of a counter back.

his stance straightens at that, a fleeting look of flabbergast clouding his face before he’s breaking out in a taunt of smile, eyes closing in on you in a brazen look,“so does that mean if the lock was fine you’d actually shower together with me,” he feels this triumph of emotions, a sudden rush of sugar at the realization that'd probably maybe perhaps someday let him get in the shower together with you. the sheer excitement he experiences through his veins is over the roof, just the possibility of something so intimate with you is a bite of golden spoon for him.

he purposely stops all he’s doing to stare at you, moving his eyebrows cheekily, trying to provoke you,“i never said that,” you stick your tongue out at him, closing the door in a soft slam and crying out a ‘you’re sick in the head!’

“only for you!” jake yells back, chuckling to himself as he leaves the room.

two hours later you’re both strolling through the isles of shelving, bright florescent lighting, end displays of popular products, sale signs, banners with store mottoes, isle signs with product locations, rows and rows of household products and everything you'd always spend lots of time looking through until jake has to drag you back home.

he pushes the cart while you look around for items to throw in and cross out one by one from your checklist. the way you both discuss and bicker over what to keep in the cart and what not to every two minutes will lead any sane person to conclude you as a couple. you both would also admit it feels as such. how he insists on taking what you like while you argue that you’re on a diet and need to cut down on the consumption and desires of your sweet tooth. it feels sweet, he feels sweet. and you make him want to coddle you so bad, like what do you mean you're on a diet? you're perfect already. too perfect for him.

“i’m taking the pop tarts!” you hear him shout from two or probably three Isles away while you look through some new make up launches,”…okay fine!” capturing the attention of an old couple who glance at your way and mutter something you don’t quite catch but you assume it’s probably about how annoying you both are, shouting at the mart.

“yunie look these are so pretty,” you point at the line of lipgloss as jake comes over with cart. he hums in agreement, watching you scan through the shades in an animated mood, mumbling over the names and speaking of how it'd look good for an everyday look or with summer dress you recently got. oh how smitten he feels, observing the way you seem so pumped up simply over gloss.

“there's no mirror— “

“try it on me,” oh he's bewitched under your spell.

jake stands still as you apply the mauve on him, staring at you through hooded eyes,”oh, this one’s really pretty on you!” you beam, looking up at him as if he could see it too.

“it'd look prettier on you,” he's hardly able to whisper out, gaze trained on the way you part your lips while you wipe it off his and apply another. if he didn't have a strong self control, by now he would have shoved his tongue down your throat in the dirtiest and messiest kiss you'd ever known. knocking your breath out, as well as his. he's already on the verge of losing it with every little touch you leave on his lips, wetting your own as a habit.

“which one should i take?” you ask something cutely, jake almost feels guilty for the thoughts swimming in his head.

“i’ll buy all of it for you, we can do something like a chapstick challenge you know. the one where you kiss and guess the flavor,” he teases loving the tiny exasperated glare you throw him. “yunn, be serious! which one?”

“these two?” he points to ones you commented were pretty feeling impatient at the conjured up image of you wearing the colors on with you tiny, sexy little sundresses you got hidden in your closet. please feel guilty man he thinks.

in the end jake (successfully) convinces you to continue your diet later over the summer break offering to help you with it. and grabs a bunch of packets of your favorite snacks, your favorite brand’s watermelon lollipops and not to forget the fruit itself. checking all out he insists on carrying everything himself, only handing you the little bag that held your lollies in case you'd want one on the way back.

the subway is more crowded than usual, scarcely any seat left. it takes you a whole minute to scan around for an empty one, immediately encouraging jake to take it. a silly game of rock paper scissors to decide who stands, insisting firmly that he sit when you end up winning. the grocery bags rest by his foot and you stand between his legs, holding onto the bar wobbling every now and then. it’s just one stop left when jake suddenly pulls you onto his lap, adjusting you comfortably on his thighs and placing his hands on your legs possessively. you turn to look at him, lashes brushing against his skin and lips parting in the slightest at the adrenaline you feel pumping into your fast beating heart. the muscles in his chest feel firm at the faint touch of your back against him, the thumping of his own heart similar to that of yours.

he leans closer to whisper in your ear,“that creep right there kept staring you up and down,” pointing with a discreet move of his eyes as he drills holes through his stern gaze fixed on the said guy. you on the other hand, grow hot with irritation, perhaps just as hot and bothered you are feeling jake pressed so close. an abrupt and sharp impulse of anger.

“i’ll show him the fuck he was staring at," you mutter out, teeth gritted, and hands almost forming into fists, expression as innocent as always. jake seems to catch on to what you’re about to do and before you can get up from lap, his hold on you gets tighter,"okay, i know you hate this candy, but i don’t want you getting hurt in any way, if he does anything i’ll make sure to set him right, for now i think he got it that he’s not gonna stare at you however he wants,” hand grabing yours in gentle caresses along the expanse of your arm. delicate and slow like a soothing rub. his touch just as enticing and stimulating it is, is also calming, knowing exactly how to pacify your hot headedness. jake finds that really hot about you, the way you look like you couldn't harm a bug but he's seen you throw kicks and punches (for the right reasons) ‘looks like a cinnamon roll, could kill you’ he never knew that's his type. sometimes and really only some rare times he wonders if you're not as innocent as he thinks you are, getting rock hard at the thought of it, dick twitching multiple times imagining you saying and doing things that an angel like you shouldn't be.

for the rest of the ride he manages to lull you back to your sweet candy mode, making you laugh at his lame pick up lines, and occasionally tickling your sides. head falling back into his shoulder in cute giggles and hips rolling on him, damn only he knows how bad he's holding back. as shameless as he is he'd probably jump your bones right infront of everyone to see. thankfully you bring the decency in your relationship.

when your stop comes, he intertwines his fingers you as you walk out the compartment, just in case you decide to give the dude a slap before leaving.

“'m gonna flatten out all your abs today, you'll need to gym again,” jake chuckles, feeling you roll over his body like mei’s lint roller as he lays on your favorite fluffy kuromi rug typing away on his laptop an essay deadlined for tomorrow. the weight of your body on and off and the touch of your hot skin he feels funsies,“you do this all the time, candy and my abs have never left. how can i let them? knowing how much you love it,” reaching behind to hold you still on his back. you are glad he can't see the way your cheeks warm up at that, a bashful look on your face remembering all the times he's caught you ogling at his body.

“why are you sulking?” he asks when you don't respond with a whine like you usually do. aware that you behave this way either when you’re over the top bathing in happiness or dissatisfied with something.

“’m gonna gain weight now because of you, i’ll see all the snacks and sweets in the pantry and not be able to resist binge eating,” you lightly punch at the curve of his shoulders, dropping your head into the crook of his neck in a pout. jake turns around swiftly to hold you in a hug, wanting nothing more than to cheer you up,“i love your belly anyhow, whether it’s visible or not,” giving the plump flesh of your stomach a zephyr-like pinch. you wince playfully drawing back inches to tease him only to drop down into his arms to hug him back seconds later,“yeah whatever,” his words make you feel butterflies, a turmoil of frenzy and fuzzy feelings, cheeks growing warm once again, and the warmth spreading all over your mind this time. why does he have to be so sweet to you?

you both stay like that for a while breathing slowly, and taking in the comfort of a hug, the room saturated with a restful and serene silence. you’re the first to pull away,“you should finish that essay, i have to prepare for my test next week,” jake groans at the loss of your touch, wailing out with his hands as you leave the room.

”i’m joining you as soon as i finish this!”

four days later on the weekend, you sit on the couch alone, wrapped in the thin lilac charmeuse blanket jake got for you (he said it the softness of it, reminded him of you.) waiting for your him to join you. eight in the morning with ‘tangled’ running on the tv, it's not something jake would ever want to do, but he gives in because you like it; bonus sometimes when you get a little sleepy, he grabs the chance to cuddle you as close as he can, leaving a few fluttering kisses on your temple and cheeks. he's grateful you never say anything about it and just let him be.

“yunie, can you pass me the watermelon in the fridge? the one from yesterday,” you spare a quick glance towards jake as he walks out his room. his headset rests loosely around his neck, half naked, wearing only a pair of sweatpants and his black hair all dishevelled: looking even more messier due to the perm he got last week. “yeah sure,” the rasp in his voice as he mumbles out softly gives away the fact that he probably stayed up all night again.

taking the half a piece of watermelon out and grabbing a spoon, jake scoops out a small little portion. going up to your slouched figure on the couch, and extending it out for you to eat,“here you go, candy,” he does it quite often, infact he loves to feed you. seeing your cheeks full and your eyes sparkling makes him feel fond as much as it turns him on. picturing you the same way on your knees between his legs with his dick stuffed in your mouth. choking and gagging on him, tears dropping down your pretty eyes while you stare up at him with this same doe look. it'd be heaven. even more so if he would have to teach you how to do it right, further fueling the massive corruption kink he seems to have harboured after meeting you.

he passes you melon after you take the bite, sitting beside you with his legs crossed. eyes trained on the way you fill in more in your mouth than you can handle, face all round and full,”eat slowly,” he flicks at your forehead.

“do you want to go buy a new sofa at ikea tomorrow? this one’s pretty small,” he adds a minute later, raising his brows subtly.

“well, first of all i didn’t plan to have a roommate and secon- i swear if it’s for your hook-ups i’m kicking you out!” it comes out in a yell, voice raising with every syllable before you spit a seed at him. one that due to your bad aiming skills instead of landing on his face, falls and sticks to the skin of his chest. damn those muscles they get you feelings things you probably shouldn't be.

putting away the watermelon on your tea table, you pick up mei and settle her on your lap, pulling back your blanket which had slipped off in a crackle of laughter,“this is public space have some decency before you have such thoughts!”

“stop making me appear like a horndog!” he laughs along, whinning at your false accusations in giggles and a look of faux disbelief.

“well that is exactly what you are!” you throw the closest cushion at his face. grinning with your signature cutesy doe eyes and jake is a goner. he always is.

“no don't do this me,”

“change the sheets then, it's your turn this week,” turning away from him, you fix your eyes on rapunzel climbing down the tower. trying to avoid the way he stares at you with betrayal, immediately scooting over to tickle you.

“you cheeky liar it's your turn,” his hands glossing over your ticklish areas.

“i love you,” in a fit of uncontrolled giggles, you shout. pushing against him to escape only to have your wrists pulled away, held together in a tight grasp and pinned above your head. “candy! i love you is not gonna get you out of chores come on i'll help you. we'll watch tangled later. together, i promise,” his laughter dies down with every word he utters, whispering out the last part as he becomes aware of the proximity between you two. so close you both think, breaths slowing down and heartbeats picking up the pace with each passing second.

“we're doing this okay?” jake whispers again, albeit, his tone a tad bit more heavy and bothered. an ambiguous daze clouding over, as if he is talking about something entirely different than just changing sheets. a twinge of lust bubbling inside. having you under him like this makes him realize just how desperately he wants you, and how bad his strength kink blooms for you. to have you whimpering and moaning, gaze all hazy as you let him do whatever he wants with you. damn he feels his dick twitch at that, gulping nervously hoping you wouldn't notice.

“you look like eugene,” you mumble out suddenly and jake feels his thirst rise off the roof, because the size difference between the characters? he wouldn't deny he thought of you the first time he saw the animation. wanting you have you in his arms the same way.

“then you must be my rapunzel,” you feel even more flustered if that's possible, your stomach twisting and twirling at his words until,”now come on we gotta keep the house clean for mother gothel,” jake let's his grip on you loosen, taking a moment to get off you.

“yunie!”

“i'll make you some sweet soy-glazed potatoes too later,” he voice drowns out as he enters you bedroom first.

“well i guess it's okay then,” you giggle following after him.

“candy that's not how you tuck in the corners,” jake scolds you for nth time, running after you to fix the edges you mess up deliberately time and again. “hey! candy! get down!” you make it a chaos for him, jumping onto the unmade bed and messing up the sheets all the way.

“oops,” there's a devilish grin on your face as jake pauses to watch you have your sugar rush episode.

“if you wanna wrestle again and end up under me, just say so,” he teases, inching closer and grabbing you by the waist. you both laugh again as if you weren't dripping with need for each other just moments ago. he picks you up and walks to the door putting you down by the sill,”i seriously need to get this done, you go and peel the potatoes for me,” you can't cook for the sake of god and letting you use knives is like a deathwish, jake can only hope peeling will keep you busy and safe enough to not end up with cuts anywhere.

the doorbell rings just as you step into the kitchen, walking back to the front in a sluggish sigh. feeling utter regret for answering the door, the instant you notice the figure outside. not wanting to reveal the presence to jake, you shut the door behind.

he peeps out your room at the sound of it, shrugging it off as nothing because you’ve done it lot many times: when your friends show up because you simply don’t want them to fall under his radar as prey.

you spare an indifferent glance at the way eunsang stands tall; hands folded with a cocky look on her rather gorgeous face. she's a beauty and you hate to admit that, a vibe so opposite of you it makes you insecure considering jake's hooked up with her more than a few times. “i’m here to see jake,” she states, tilting her head to point over at the closed door, all the sugary honeyed act she keeps up around him nowhere to be seen.

“and he doesn’t want to see you, didn’t he tell you it was the last time,” you counterattack, folding your arms and straightening up to look intimidating. your stare is one of taunt, carrying a gaze of boredom in hopes to establish that you're one to reckon with.

“are you jake? i said i want to talk to jake not you,” her heels click in impatience and underlying disgust in the tone she uses with you gets on your nerves.

you close your eyes for a moment trying to calm the annoyance in you before it turns into anger, tongue poking at the side of your cheek, “and are you deaf? i said he does not want to talk to you,” assert dominance, assert dominance you repeat over and over in your head.

but what she says next makes you lose your temper.

jake, the very epicenter of it all, on the other hand has no idea of what's going on outside until there's a scream that sounds too much like you, one turning into many more. it's frantic and inhumane, the speed at which he runs out. dropping everything and anything. there in broad daylight he finds you and eunsang trying to rip each other's hair out in the thankfully empty hallway. he doesn't know if he should be worried more about your scalp hurting or your throat tearing from how loudly you scream over eunsang. his hands flail as he contemplates on breaking the fight or letting you calm down, which you probably won't as he knows. he grabs onto eunsang's hands on your head trying to loosen her grip on your hair, concerned over the pain you must be feeling while you're there now trying to kick her between her legs. she's shocked to say the least, watching him latch you off her in a swift motion and throw you over his shoulder. he takes you back inside quickly, groaning at your fists pounding against his back in a protest,”fucking let go of me! i’m gonna give her a good piece of my mind!”

“candy language!” putting you down by the kitchen softly, he grasps the side of your arms and forces you to look into his eyes,“stop fighting all the time, stay here i’ll talk to her, okay?” he speaks slowly as an attempt to calm you. when you wiggle off in a scornful shrug, he asks again, this time moving to cup your face, a tender look in his eyes,“okay?” you nod in a defeated sigh and he's out the door before you can say anything else. you're upset, really upset, you know what you did outside was not decent yet you can't get over the fact that he left you in here to go back to talk to her. he was on your tail last week trying to beg you to help him get rid of her and even shooed her out the unit harshly, what more is there to talk about?

truth to be told, this was how he first met you, or should he say saw you. it was the move in day, he had all the necessities for the week packed in a travel suitcase, with the other stuff to be brought in later on. he was waiting for the elevator in the lobby, more tense and anxious than ever to meet the girl he was going to be living with a good four years of his college life. hoping she'd not treat him like some stranger, or be someone impossible to get close to hash live with. along with little bits of curiosity and hopes again, that she'd be a pretty and sweet girl maybe someone help could form some kind of benefits with.

however never in a million years did he ever expect it to be the cute yet fierce girl in the elevator. to say he was flabbergasted would be an understatement, he was literally blown off his feet, scared or impressed, his confusion was massive. when the doors of the elevator had opened he had found you slapping a middle aged man,”fun? you think groping my butt ‘s fun, you sicko,” kicking him in the balls next. hard. jake had gulped at that, hard. heart on a pause. the look of feigned innocence on your face as you did all that. damn jake swears it was that moment he fell. maybe not romantically but you definitely got his dick hard.

you looked super cute, and you knew how to fight, jake thought he hit the jackpot when you turned out to be his roommate. pretty you were, definitely, and sweet wasn't even a question; you were sweet to him and you are a lot of sweet. the only thing that remains a mystery till now is if you'd taste as sweet. jake hopes he can find that out.

he returns a few minutes later, lips pursed in a small smile as he shuts the front door. it grows even wider when his eyes find you,“so your soy glazed potatoes,” he chuckles walking over to the kitchen and getting other things out.

“she called me a slut for living with a guy like you and i was in the midst of giving her a lecture on actually how good of a person you are-” you bang on the counter with a thud and turn around to face him,“and you dragged me in!” whinning in a pout that looked as upset as your furrowed brows.

jake glances over in amusement, halting to give you another grin as he boops your nose gently,“my darling candy, i’m only good to you,” the glare you throw his way only makes him snicker with adoration. the little flicker of bashfulness you feel making you break out in a smile which (thankfully, for you) jake doesn't notice.

“whatever, i’m gonna take a long shower. do not disturb me!” you leave in a rush afraid if you stay too long he'd see it all on your face.

ten minutes later, as you tiptoe to get your favorite shower gel from the shelf above the mirror, luck decides to remind you why you shouldn't ever stay away from jake sim. feet slipping on the wet floor, body colliding against the cold tiles in a thud loud enough to have jake come running.

“candy, you're okay? what happened? should i open the door? ‘m coming in,” his voice is laced with worry, snapping open the door to find you laying flat down, though to his relief not unconscious. he picks you carefully, bringing you to your room and seating you on the edge of the bed to check for any injuries. hands delicately caressing all over and asking if it hurts any where,”you're so clumsy, always getting me worried like shit,”

“language,” you giggle, trying to make him laugh and it works.

“sorry, just please be careful, okay?” his fingers brush back your hair as you give him a small nod,“do you feel pain anywhere?” another nod, and this one ticks his alarms.

“where!” your fingers reach out to press against the brooding crease between his brows, attempting to remove the frown from his face. and jake melts at that, feeling his heart flutter at your cuteness, god he loves this side of you so much.

“you little demon, look what happens if you don't shower with me,” laughing out together, oh how he wishes it were like this forever. and jake sim has never thought of a forever ever before.

a month passes by in the blink of an eye, your routines and relationship staying the same as always, classes, his soccer practice and your weekly cleaning day. but what seems to have changed is his routine of bringing over girls, the number alarmingly cutting down day by day (which currently sits at zero) and what you haven’t noticed- his display of affection towards you growing more and more. yet you think nothing special of it, assuming that perhaps now he got a grip over himself. which is partially true. jake thought of you as deserving someone better, so it was only right that he became better. and what better way than to start with quitting the position of campus’ resident fuckboy.

after an all nighter the previous day, coming back from your classes you get straight to bed. changing you clothes and getting tucked under the blanket from around eight in the evening. jake returns from his soccer practice later, unaware of the fact that you're already passed out. opening your door to let you know of his night out plans,“candy, i’m gonna go out with jay and sunghoon! make sure to have your dinne- oh you were sleeping? i didn’t know i’m so sorry candy,” he mumbles out in a soft whisper towards the end, supressing a smile watching your sleepy figure under the covers. trying to rub out the drowsiness from your eyes; heavy blinking and a small pout, his cute girl.

“it’s okay no need to get up, go back to sleep, i’ll be back in the morning,” approaching the bed as you lay back down, he pats your head in a 'sleep well’ before leaving.

it's probably past midnight when you wake up to constant ringing of calls. fumbling around for your phone in a daze only to find a dozen calls from an unknown number and a bunch of texts from the same. it's jay, asking you to get jake from the bar they're at. saying the guy's refusing to go back with anyone that's not you: whining for your presence and making it hard for his two friends.

'where is my candy?’ jay and sunghoon are sick and tired of hearing it all night.

by the time you get him back to the apartment, it's three and your bones hurt from the weight of his body leaning all over you. it doesn't help that all he does is giggle and throw himself over you. there's been a lot of times you have seen him drunk, probably more than a dozen, but he's never looked as wasted as today. sunghoon told you it's because he drank way more than usual, and unbeknownst to you that you are the sole reason, you wonder of the things that plague his mind to the extent of drinking so much.

dragging him into his room you have him sit on his bed, going through his closet and getting him a pair of sweatpants and the first shirt you can grab. “come on yunie, get changed,” you hand him the clothes, turning away when he takes everything off nonchalantly. even though he likely would rather want you to look, from the many times he's said it before ‘why’re you looking away, candy it's all for you,’ his exact words. the bane of your existence.

after he's changed, you wipe the sweat off his body with a wet towel as much as you can. giving him a glass of water before leaving for your room when he grabs your wrist and stops you with his puppy eyes.

in the morning, around noon jake is the first one to wake up and having no memory of the previous night besides the fact that he was drunk. he sits at his desk chair, hands in his hair, watching you sleep on the other side of his bed, clad in his shirt. it’s like he feels everything is over and done from here. he did what he swore never to do, this was the very first thing he pinned on his mind as an important note: not using you even if he has very obvious feelings for you. he tugs on his hair in frustration, angry at himself for not staying in his lane when drunk. with his head hung in guilt, he doesn't notice you stirring awake, sitting up at the sight of his hunched figure.

“yun? are you okay? is the hangover severe? should i make you something for it?” startled at your soft voice, he flinches visibly. a thousand scenarios running through his mind and not one ends up good.

“you don’t even know any hangover recipes,” jake mumbles almost inaudibly.

“i can just search on the internet and try my best, it’s not like i’ll give you anything inedible,” you teaee, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere you feel in the air.

it takes him a moment to speak again, sounding as miserable as he has never before,“candy i’m,” he halts, gulping to hold back the lump in his throat,“i’m sorry, i really didn’t mean to, i don’t why i, it's all my fault,” he stops again, leaving you confused and dumbfounded,“what are you saying? what apology?” it is when his eyes shift to stare at what you’re clad in, staying there for a hard minute when you get a rough idea of what he could be thinking of. your cheeks grow hot at the realization, shaking your head when unholy images pop up in your subconscious.

but the butterflies fly away just as fast as they came as his words dawn uppn you. even if it didn’t happen the fact that he wouldn’t mean it, want it, regret it has something in you twisting in pain, are you so bad? or that he actually really thinks of you as his little sister? that you read his affections wrong, assumed his feelings differently? your heart breaks more than a little at that.

“why? is it because i’m not like the others you have been with? because i’m not like eunsang? or because i’m not her? the one you were smiling so hard after talking to? are you dating he-”

“that’s the problem! you’re not like her! you’re not like anyone i've known before! you’re special and i’m afraid i’ll lose you, things will change and just i’ll have to get over you without even getting a chance,” it's the first time he's ever raised his voice at you, and the first time ever he's sounded so desperate, weak and dejected. so vulnerable.

the split moment of sadness dissipates with every word that sinks in. the revelation of a(n after)drunk confession. the fact that you're a different kind of special to him, that he would want a chance to be with you, that he's afraid to lose you. you supres the urge to laugh when it all settles into your understanding. having a better grasp over the bigger picture. your steps are slow and calculated as you walk over to him, sitting across his lap and cupping his cheeks in a fleeting breath of courage. his eyes almost bulge out when you brush your lips lightly against his, mumbling softly,“nothing happened, but if you still want i can give you a chance, it’s going to be hard though tolerating me, think wisely,” you giggle and jake malfunctions for an instant before grabbing you in a tight hug, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“of course, of course i do want it, i’ve always wanted it,” chanting out in a trance.

“your lips tasted like watermelon,” he mutters out some time after, eyes locking with yours in an intense pull. still in a daze that out of all the bad things that could've happened it was none. literally none plus you perhaps wanting him just as much as he wants you.

“i had some in the morning before you woke up, anyhow yours taste like alcohol and your breath is horrible, go and freshen up,” you push at his shoulder, getting off him to leave the room to cook something. probably (as you said) a recipe searched up on the web, hopefully edible enough for a hungover person.

when he comes out later, all showered and back to the jake you know: the one who likes his hair slightly messy and almost never in a shirt. “why were- are you wearing my shirt then?”

“you practically begged me to last night while sobbing for i don’t know what reason,” he's a bit flustered at that, but hey, it's what got him here, you gotta do what you gotta do.

“candy, you wanna go out tonight? jay and sunghoon wanted to hang out but i don't wanna leave you so i said i’d bring you along,” jake asks, knocking at your door.

it takes you a little over a minute to open up but jake's does not mind it at all for obvious reasons, his jaw comically falling to the floor when you walk out in your tiny little blue sundress and the shade of lipgloss he was dying to see you in. you're unreal.

“yes! i heard you on call earlier,”

“oh my god candy, gimme a princess twirl,” the amount of desire he feels for you right now is unfathomable. biting his lips at the sight of your lace panties underneath that faintly flash him in the mini twirl you do. can you get any hotter?

“just fifteen minutes and i'll be ready,” he got ten minutes to do something about the boner he just popped, and it's more than enough to have him rub one out with what he just saw. maybe add a little hint of imagination and wondering what you'd sound like if he were to touch you down there. especially given the fact that the likelihood of it happening were through the roof now. you almost kissed last week, anything could happen at this point. and jake's dick gets impossibly sensitive at the odds of it.

at the restaurant, jay and sunghoon sit in an awkward silence, watching you both be all over each other. when they agreed for jake to bring his girl along, they didn't expect it to be so bad.

“um jake talks a lot about you,” sunghoon says trying to start a conversation that he knows probably wouldn't go anywhere.

“he does? that's so sweet,” you smile, giggling over something jake whispers in your ear, his hand palming over the plush of your exposed thighs,”what do you wanna eat?” sunghoon nerves feel boiled at the way jake completely skips over his attempt to talk to you. while jay sips at wine, agonizingly slow knowing this is how it's gonna be from now on. their friend is a changed man.

“i have this picture of jake from middle school, you'd love to see it i promise,” a little tipsy, sunghoon's persistence to put himself in the equation albeit admirable, annoys the fuck out of jake, scowling at the other well of aware of the so called picture he wants to share.

“jay man, take care of him. candy and i are going home,” jake gives them a tight lipped smile, holding your rather drunk self (it's just wine you had said)

“see you later ca- y/n,” at first jay leans in for a friendly hug but— nevermind. the way jake stares at him is scarily weird.

jake makes sure to have you sit on the couch before he leaves to get you water but you're sprawled out on the floor when he comes back. mumbling something about how cool the tiles feel against your skin,”come on you should drink some water,” jake pulls you up on your ass, sitting cross legged on the floor beside you. his hand softly holds the back of your head as he brings the glass to your mouth.

“alright say, what did you wanna say?”

“i wanna kiss you,” if jake thinks the pout on your lips is the cutest thing ever then the words you say must have to be the hottest thing ever. how can a simple word like kiss make his heart flutter so bad? and it's not even lust at this point.

he fulfils your wish without a thought, leaning in to capture your lips in a gentle kiss. sucking on your bottom lip a second long before he pulls away and boops your nose. no tongue and no other intentions. the after taste of your gloss lingering in his mouth.

“let me tell you a secret,” you whisper out, moving over to his lap, knees on the floor each side.

“i knew you stole my kuromi panties,” he's shocked you know about it, he made sure to be extra careful with it, though his nasty ass was internally hoping you'd catch him.

“mhm, i do have it with me but it's not really wearable now,” he did not see this becoming something sexual but the moment you brought up the panties, you might as well have brought up his dick. man practically re-lived every single time he used it to jerk off, all those orgasms coming to life at once.

“you need to punished!” you whine,

“what do you wanna do?” and jake feels his dick get harder at that.

“can we kiss again?” oh my god, you make him feel so fuzzy and horny at the same time, it's unbelievable. in the guide of jake sim: to make him horny is relatively easy, to get him all fuzzy is once in a lifetime and to get him both at the same time is impossible. yet you do it so effortlessly.

jake answers you with his lips against yours again, relishing in the feeling of them on his own. all those times he wondered of how it'd feel like to kiss you seemed so lame now that he actually did. no imagination could ever come close to way he feels right now. his hand comes up to cup the side of your neck, his grip firm as he pulls away for a moment,”i wanna love you so much and take you on cute little dates and buy you all the food you want and fuck you so hard you only remember my name,”he mumbles against your lips in a bit whisper, letting you take a breath before he dives right back in. this time he lets his tongue slide in, rubbing against your own for a short while only to pull back and go for another trying to keep your lips pressed together for as long as he could. finally pulling away when he feels you push against him a little too roughly, a crawl of shudders all over his skin at the roll of your hips against his bulge.

“wan’ you to fuck me too,” you whine, this time desperately.

“fuck candy, you're drunk we shouldn't be doing this,” he reminds, failing miserably to hold himself back. his hands keep twitching to just grab your hips and grind you down on his dick until you're both cumming together.

“i’m not, i swear. i just drank a little because i couldn't have done this all sober,” even through the layers of clothes, jake can feel your neediness dropping with the way you roll your hips harder against him. speeding up when you think he's pushing you away, but he's just grabbing you closer by the waist. he can't deny how wanted he feels right now, feeling like he'd explode any second. the fuck were you so horny for him?

“are you sure this is okay?” he asks again. no matter how bad he's dying to fuck you, he'll never do it if you don't to.

“‘s okay, please yunie,” you feel his hands slide along your thighs and in between your legs. fingers faintly brushing over the wet patch on your panties in a sharp inhale. he grazes two fingers against your clit, testing the waters. rubbing harder when he feels your breathing pick up it's pace, switching to spank your clit impossibly fast having lost control at the sound of your wanton whimpers.

“don’t move and take it baby,” jake growls, pushing you flush against his chest, making your back arch more and more into him. tits bouncing right up in his face as he bends down to nibble as the exposed skin between them.

he stops for a moment only to push your panties to the side and touch you raw. rubbing rougher and so intense, your legs feel number from pleasure,”has anyone touched you like before?” his jaw clenches hard, eyes dark with want as they remain fixated at the sight of his hands on your pussy. fuck he finally knows what touching you feels like.

“ngh— no, fuck!” and it boosts jake's ego through the roof, he doesn't think he's ever felt as horny as he feels right now. the thought of being the first to touch you in your princess parts, the first you have seen you putty like this, the first to be the one to get you like this. fuck, fuck, fuck! he feels so turned on it's literally inhumane. precum oozing out his tip with every twitch of his dick.

“mm, gonna put my fingers in you,” you feel one of jake's fingers press into you, sliding inside easily with how dripping wet you are. the pornographic moan you let out when he slowly slips in another and curves up has his dick twitch so damn hard he thinks he just came untouched. you sound so cute yet so fucking hot, his mind is in a spiral of everything he wants to do to have you moan like that again and again until you're so drunk on pleasure, you only want him all the time.

“shit you're so tight and warm, can't imagine how good you'd feel around my cock,” his eyes keenly hooked on the way you raise your hips to meet the thrusts halfway,”y-yun, ‘s feels too g-good ah,”

“fuck you're so hot and so perfect for me,” his words travel straight to your core having you clench tight around his fingers and all of a sudden you find your oragasm hitting you as violently as jake continues to run you through it, fast and painfully pleasurable. enamoured and obsessed with the way your doe eyes struggle to stay open, mouth parting in a loud whine, back arching and hips shooting up. god you're a piece of art and jake doesn't think he's ever gonna want anyone other than you.

he immediately stands up with you in his arms, walking over to the kitchen counter and placing you gently on the cold marble. his fingers run through your hair in a soft caress, tucking in the messy strands behind your ears,”you sure you want this? we can stop here if you want. just say the word and i’ll stop,”

“wan’ yun to be my first,” you whimper wearily, jake feels his heart skip a couple of beats. your first, he wants to be your last too and you to be his last.

”gonna make you cum so much harder on my cock,” he places his hands on your thighs in a tight grip and forces them apart fervently. he so damn wants to eat you out but he also wants to feel you cum around his cock, it's a hard choice to make but his cock feels so angry and heavy slick from all the precum he shot out each time you whimpered or moaned or whined, if he'd wait to get his dick wet he'd probably actually come untouched from your sounds and reactions alone. and only god knows(jay too oops) how bad jake sim wants the first time he cums with you to be deep inside you. so much so that he might develop a kink of getting you knocked up (nope you're too young for that!)

he takes his pants off in a snap, practically ripping his boxers along with it, grabbing his rock hard dick, throbbing and red at the tip and trusting into his fist a couple of times. breathing heavy at the way you watch him with your lips between your teeth. he wonders how good it'd feel to watch you touch yourself while he does the same, cumming together with your eyes locked. but he probably doesn't have that kind of self control to just watch you touch yourself, when he can do it himself?

he taps his tip against your clit for a hot minute sliding it along your folds in a strained groan. you're so embarrassing wet, it's like jake could shove himself inside immediately and your you'd hardly feel pain for a while. however, holding back his desires, he pushes into you slowly, holding your body close and stroking your back soothingly,”let me know when i can move,” a tender kiss at your forehead, trying to make sure you know you have the say it in.

jake groans as you give him the go seconds later,”mhmmm candy⁠— baby,” moaning soft and lustful as he pulls out till the tip and thrusts all the way in. your insides feel so warm and gummy, walls clenching around him crazy tight. he thinks he'll lose his mind and end up cumming embarrassingly fast like a teen getting pussy for the first time. the way he feels the pleasure throb in his veins so intense all over his body, it's almost numbing.

your hands loop around his neck, fingers scratching at his back as he pounds into you rough, his pace hard and fast pushing all his body weight against you.

“don't think i can ever get enough of you,”

the sight of the thin straps of your dress slipped to the sides, tits almost spilling out of the front gets jake going, fueling him to grab at you anywhere and everywhere his hands can possibly go,”tell me im dreaming fuckkk— i've wanted you for so long, can't count the number of times i've jerked off to the thought of having you like this, so pretty and dumb under me,” all those evenings when you roamed around the unit in the shortest shorts and the smallest crops, driving him mad shit insane, having to sneak off into the bathroom multiple times. fisting his cock hard, groaning and biting back his moans as he got off to the thought of you, while you sat all unaware and innocent on the other side of the wall.

he stops abruptly, pulling out in a frenzy and turning you around on your heels and pushing you by the back of your neck to lay against the cool granite. one hand going down to grab at your thigh and hook it up on the counter, drooling at the way your pussy glistens from the angle. he shoves his dick back in without a warning, feeling your ass collide against him harsh yet fervid.

you both pant in rasps when his cock hits a sensitive spot inside you. he shifts to angle himself just right to repeatedly brush against that spot and you mewl out loud at that, so loud your neighbours probably know what you're up to.

“fuck i can't stand not seeing your cute face,” jake bends over to grab you by your throat, pulling you up and flush against him, head resting back at his shoulders as he forces to look at him, fingers gripping your jaw softly,”eyes on me, okay baby?” grunting from deep within his chest, a wild grin on his face as he watches you get lost in ecstasy,”i’ll get you addicted to my cock,” just like how addicted he already is with your pussy and everything about you.

his other hand reaches up to tug the front of your dress down, groping up one of your tits, a silk touch to see your reaction. loving the way it's so obvious how sensitive you are there. mouth parting open with you in sensuous gasps as he twists your nipple harshly, rubbing the tip with his thumb. your walls clench a little too hard and your back arches off as you push your hips back into him, the tell tale signs of you getting close,”my baby's gonna cum for me?”

holding your jaw to have your eyes trained on him, he unexpectedly inserts his thumb in your mouth pressing against your wet tongue, your red swollen lips too tempting to resist,“fuck yes, show me how pretty you cum,” you mumble out a series of incoherent words in hazy chant.

the hand on your breast slips down to your lower abdomen pressing rashly against his bulge, feeling faint movement of his cock deep inside you. fuck you're so small and delicate. his hold on you tightening as his calloused fingers find your neglected bud, rolling it in quick, tight circles. it's so painful yet you feel so good, tears wailing down your cheeks as your orgasm crashes hard, overwhelming and violent, thighs trembling and pussy clenching uncontrollably. jake's continues to rub your clit, helping you ride out your high. eyes fluttering shut, and swallowing thickly at the sensation of you creaking over his sensitive length, cock throbbing impossibly hard.

jake refuses to stop even after you have come down,”one more candy, i know you can do one more for me,” hips hammering into you at full force, and lips finding yours in ragged breaths. and it dawns on you what exactly you have gotten yourself into when you feel the two of his fingers protruding at your entrance, trying to push in beside his cock,“if you try to close your legs i'm gonna punish you,” he warns making you whine into his mouth.

in a flash he turns your body to face his, quickly shoving his cock and fingers back into you. his other hand spanking the skin of your ass and kneading it a soft caress after. he eyes hypnotized at the view of you taking him in, a white ring of your cum adorning the base of his cock. he spits at your clit, once again toying with the engorged bud, pinching and flicking,”“gonna make you cum until you pass out, fuck i really wanna do that⁠—” your hand darts out to grip at jake's wrist, feeling too overwhelmed with hypersensitivity. wanting to shy away but the pleasure’s so good you can't bring yourself to push him away.

“but it's your first time,” jake mumbles between hoarse grunts.

before you can even realize it yourself your third orgasm courses through you vehemently. body jerking and twitching, almost falling over if not for jake's hold. jets of cum gushing out as you moan loud.

feeling you spill down his cock, all warm and tight, his brutal rhythm falters,”fuck- ‘m gonna cum,” eyes locking with yours as he thrusts once, twice and then stills, burying himself deep, streams of cum shooting out. hot spurt after spurt, swollen cock twitching against your walls. goosebumps all over, his legs quiver from how hard he came.

he stays quiet and motionless for a while, his arms wrapped around your shaking body. breathing in the scent of your shampoo, trying to calm his pounding heart and cock.

“you good candy? i’m sorry, i think i went a little rough on you,” you nuzzle into him in quiet,’its okay’ as he strokes your head, leaving fluttering kisses over your face. picking you up by the thighs he brings you to your bed, laying you down and gently pulling out. groaning at the way all your mixed cum oozes out, pretty little hole clenching around nothing.

exhausted, you let your mind drift, feeling the drowsiness kick in while jake bends between your legs with a wet towel. whining wearily, when his lips wrap around your nub in a suck, the wet sensation of his tongue against your clit like a shot of electricity,”sorry, baby just had to do that once,” he knew he didn't just call you candy for nothing and he was right. grining sheepishly as he wipes the rest of the cum off, cleaning you all up.

“you're nasty,” you manage to whisper out.

“only for you,” the touch of his body is hot and comforting, arms around your waist cuddling closely(and half naked).

“let's shower together in the morning, wanna eat you out so-”

“jake!”

“what? it's the truth!”

the following around four in the afternoon before jake has to leave for his soccer practice, you approach him on the couch, as always re-watching an episode of vincenzo. you haven't talked much about labels, but it's known to everyone that you're sorta together. more like jake is taken by you. his friends weren't too surprised to know about you both, it was obvious jake had the hots for you and from the little hangout at the restaurant they figured it all worked out for him.

“incoming, pocky!” you sit beside him with a banana flavored pocky stick between your teeth, leaning in teasingly.

“oh you want me so bad,” he plays along inch closer and biting it off in a snap, lips barely brushing against yours.

pulling you onto his lap with your back pressed into his chest, he locks you in place, chuckling at the way you attempt to escape. his fingers twirling the ends of your hair as you surrender in seconds, switching to watching the show absent-mindedly,”my parents wanted to meet you,” he drops the bomb, tracing random letters on your skin to distract of the fact that he just mention a meeting with parents.

“as my roommate, actually,” quickly adding the important point, fingers poking at your cheeks like jello.

“so suddenly though?” you think back on all the things you have ever done to him, for them to want to see you. perhaps they think of you as a snobby girl who’s indulging their son’s already unpleasant habits.

“they’ve actually been wanting to meet you for the past three months, i was putting it off but now summer break is starting next week and i have no more excuses to give,” hugging you, he rests his head on the curve of your neck, breathing in the smell of watermelon that surrounds you after you had basically devoured a whole at lunch. “if you don’t want to then you don’t have to, i’ll talk to them,” he assures, not wanting you to feel obligated to agree, or force yourself despite being uncomfortable.

“no it’s okay, we can go meet them. how long will the drive be?” fumbling with his red knuckles, your mind wanders off to when he fingered you, growing hot and embarrassed all of a sudden. hardly listening in on his answers.

when jake leaves for his soccer practice, you find time to complete the trivial chores around the house. watering the plants with a pout, missing jake more than ever. you have completely different majors and you are not in any clubs either to stay after classes. the only time you spend together being the one at the apartment which is also cut down by his frequent practice sessions, sometimes in the morning during weekends and normally most evenings on weekdays. it makes you ponder on whether you should try out for any club, after all these years doing something else besides studying. but you have no idea what you should consider, having no knowledge on which clubs you could be eligible to join.

it takes you two whole weeks and a bunch of outfit checks to find yourself on your way to meet jake's parents. feeling almost weird and exhilarating at how his parents and his older brother welcome you. treating you so well even though they recognize you as nothing more than just his college apartment roommate who helps fix his laptop and tolerates the boy knowing the kind of womanizer he is. appearing more as a meeting with in-laws when you jake and you are not even official yet, more so they have no idea of what's going between you two.

they try their best to make you feel at home. during the lunch as jake had told them beforehand, his mother had a few sweet dishes prepared for you, coddling you just as jake does back at your unit. they talk to you about casual things including your likes and dislikes, what major you are in, whether jake treats you well, if you have any complaints regarding his behavior. it doesn’t feel as awkward as you as thought it would and you didn't have to put on any act as you prepared yourself to do.

in the beginning of your roommate journey, his accent, his voice was the first thing to attract you but slowly as you explored his personality you came to like him for more than just what attracted you to him. now you as you spend time with people closest to him, you understand where he got it all from. the sweet person he is, which you never expected a fuckboy to be, you didn’t even have an ounce of hope that he’ll acknowledge your presence in the apartment when you got to know about his playing around conduct. yet he turned out to be the sweetest boy you’ve ever come around in your life ( and the nastiest perhaps, )

when you are sitting alone with his brother, while jake is away downstairs to bring you something sugary to eat, his brother takes it as a chance to share his thoughts,“you know until i heard him call you candy a while ago, i was under the impression that 'candy’,” he quotes it specially with a movement of his fingers,“is supposedly a cheerleader fling of his after i saw the contact name showing up when he got a call the last time he was here,” giving you a sly look as he catches sight of jake approaching,“turns out it’s you, i never knew he is the type to give such sweet, unique petnames,”

before you leave in the evening, jake makes sure to let them know that you’re toegther, and that he’s not playing around this time. he’s willing to give effort into it and change his usual ways of living, to be better for himself and as well as for you.

on your way there you had thought of a lot things, had a lot of assumptions and expectations. even prepared yourself to hear things that’ll stick to you not so positively. but what stays in your mind now is completely unexpected and opposite of what you had internally composed yourself for. it’s all you can think of in the car and after you’re back in the comfort of your familiar apartment.

cheerleader, not a bad idea—

“oh my god candy, you're gonna be the death of me!” jake pulls you away, dragging you to the back of the bleachers, his cock already rock hard and throbbing with need.

“don't you like it? i thought cheerleaders dressed like this,” you pout at him, fiddling with the ends of the literally shortest skirt of your closet.

“i love it baby, but you can't just show up to practice like that, how am i gonna be able to concentrate when all i can think of you is fucking you,” he groans scanning over your figure again and again, it's like you brought out a hidden desire he didn't even know he had. he'd win every game for you if you were to cheer by the stands like this, the adrenaline of getting to ruin your perfect outfit and your perfect makeup after, putting him on a winning streak.

“teach me to suck you off,” jake loses his mind when you get down on your knees, pushing your hair out of the way and looking up at him through your lashes, doe eyes driving him crazy.

“shit baby, i will,” oh he's so going to corrupt you.

[taeyongdoyoung]

chase and attract

summary: your best friend decides to fulfil yet another one of your freaky shared fantasies... pairing: chan x reader genre: smut, best friends to ??? warnings: cnc/primal play, chasing in a forest, public indecency but there are no witnesses, fingering, finger-sucking, doggystyle, unprotected sex, praise, degradation, reader wants to use the safeword but doesn't, reader experiences subdrop, insecurities, crying, aftercare, pet names, the word daddy is mentioned but after they're done having sex, discussion of future scenario 👀 author's note: hello hello, this is the second part of my wolf & bunny series, i think i'll write one more to tie up the loose ends 🤍 part one & part three word count: 1.7k

After a number of discussions and precautions, you and Chan are finally ready to embark on your next sexscapade. He's reassured you multiple times that he knows the forest well enough that you won't get lost and as a safety measure, he brought a compass and his phone. You purposefully leave yours in his car to further heighten the feeling of danger you two had in mind.

“Are you ready?” Chan asks you gently.

“Kinda. I'm really nervous, Chris,” you confess, your hands shaking in your lap as you are still sitting in the passenger seat.

“Remember that you can stop this at any moment, right?” he reminds you sweetly.

“I know that,” you sigh. “But I want this, I really do.”

“Okay, then, there's nothing to be nervous about. You know I'll keep you safe. Always, yeah?”

You nod, trusting him completely, despite how insane this whole thing might sound to a stranger. You are fully aware that Chan has your best interest at heart.

“I'll give you a five-minute headstart this time,” he sets the timer on his phone. “Ready, set...go!”

You dash out of his car faster than ever and speed through the forest. You've got this. Last time your stupid legs gave out due to being in a box for too long but now you've trained for this moment for a week and you feel confident enough that you'll have a blast. Sure, you know that the point of this game is for Chan to eventually catch you. And boy, do you look forward to that moment. But the more you run, the more your heart will jump out, the more thrilled you feel.

You begin to lose track of time as you go deeper and deeper into the forest. Have five minutes already passed? You don't hear Chan's footsteps so either he hasn't started chasing you yet or he's going in another direction. Whatever the explanation, you keep running even though you're beginning to lose your breath. How much longer? You still don't hear him and you are in desperate need of a break. You should have brought a bottle of water. But carrying something like that would only slow you down. You're thinking too much again. You just want him to catch you already and fuck you until you can no longer think. Truly the best feeling in the world.

Finally, you hear leaves rustling. You don't hear his voice but you know he's getting near. Shit, what if it's someone else? No, that can't be it. Chan made sure that people rarely walk this path and it would only be the two of you. Still, you're terrified at the thought of someone other than Chan catching you. The mere suggestion of that is enough to send speed to your muscles and make you faster.

But all good things must come to an end (or maybe the good things are just about to begin...) and you are engulfed by a pair of strong arms. Before you can react or try to fight your attacker off, he's pressing his hand against your mouth.

“Shhh, don't scream,” Chan's voice is both a comfort and a threat, sending mixed signals to your core.

“Mmpf,” you struggle to make some kind of noise but it comes out muffled against his rough hand.

“This will all be easier if you don’t fight it,” Chan says soothingly and you shake your head in disagreement.

He momentarily removes his hand from your lip.

“Please, somebody help me!” you scream loud enough to paint the scene more vividly but not loud enough to actually attract attention in case a stranger passes by some forest. Which honestly seems impossible at this point. Chan really picked a very secluded trail.

“No one’s gonna hear you, sweetheart. And even if they did, do you think they’d help you? Silly little bun, you brought this on yourself walking in the forest all alone, wearing this dress…”

Fuck, why is he so good at this? You try not to wonder if he’s had prior experience with such a scenario or he simply just has great imagination to come up with such lines.

“Please, don’t do this,” you pretend to be afraid as your best friend pushes you on your knees and situates himself behind you. “I won’t tell anyone.”

“Why not? I’ll fuck you so good you’ll want to brag about it,” Chan chuckles coldly and sticks his thick fingers inside your pussy unexpectedly.

“Nnghh,” you cry out and are beginning to lose energy of all the running and no longer feel like faking it, letting out moans and whimpers of pleasure.

“See? You’re all wet for me, so obviously you’re enjoying it,” Chan gathers the evidence of your satisfaction with his fingers and pushes them into your mouth.

You don’t need an order to know what to do as you lick them clean of your arousal.

“Fuuuck, good girl,” Chan praises you and briefly breaks character, stroking your hair gently.

Oh, shit. You think you’re falling for your best friend. But such thoughts will only bring complications, especially in the current context, so you push them down as much as you can.

Chan makes sure you’re wet enough by mercilessly stroking your pussy and finally, fuck, sweet finally, enters you from behind with his cock.

“N-no, d-don’t do this,” you scream and try to escape his strong grasp but of course, it’s no use.

“Such a useless slut, only good for fucking and nothing more.”

The degrading words sting but you’re trying not to dwell on it too much.

“So fucking wet for a stranger. Disgusting,” he says.

Fuck, this hurts. Not the cock stretching you out to the fullest but what he’s saying. Is it really true?

You want to say the safeword. But you also don’t. By the time you make up your mind, Chan has already painted your walls white and you are also coming with a shudder, loudly and devastatingly.

You feel broken. Bad broken. You want to go home and cry and sleep and eat ice cream. What went wrong? You were having such a great time. So why are you suddenly having such dark thoughts? And not dark in the sexy way…

Chan picks you up gently and checks up on you.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, I just want to go home,” you respond briefly.

He nods, quietly wondering if he did something wrong or if he’s just imagining the sad, empty look in your pretty eyes.

Chan helps you walk back to his car and makes sure you drink water and cleans you up to the best of his abilities with some tissues he prepared in advance.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks again as he parks the car in front of you place. “You haven’t said a word during the whole ride. Usually you have funny stories to share and…”

“Gee, sorry for not always being the class clown, I guess,” you snap at him angrily with an eyeroll.

“Okay, don’t give me that attitude,” Chan scolds you gently but firmly. “If we want to do this healthily, you gotta communicate with me. If I did something wrong or if you felt uncomfortable at any point.”

You shake your head, still in denial.

“If you don’t wanna talk, I won’t force you. But you gotta remember that you mean the world to me, yeah? Even if these games end, I need to have my best friend in my life, am I clear?”

You blink and finally gather the courage to look at him.

“I’m sorry, Chris,” you admit and burst into tears.

He pulls you into a hug and pats your back.

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“Well, the truth is I wasn’t all that into it when you said that thing about me being useless, only good for fucking and disgusting,” you confess.

“Oh, babygirl, you know I don’t mean these things. I only said them ‘cause you mentioned you’re into degradation.”

“I was, I mean, I am, but for some reason, it really hurt me this time, sorry. I should have said. I just don’t want you to think poorly of me.”

“Alright, first of all, stop saying sorry, it’s completely normal to get caught up in it and feel insecure sometimes. As a dom, I should have been more careful and checked up on you more frequently. And second of all, please, remember that you are very smart, sweet, funny and not to mention incredibly beautiful so there is no way in hell I think lowly of you. Now, did you put that down in your pretty brain of yours?”

“Yes, sir,” you answer enthusiastically and your tears have dried up, instead a bright smile appears on your face. “Thanks for saying that. I guess I really needed to hear it.”

“You don’t have to thank me. Just next time if you happen feel like that, say the safeword and talk to me. About anything, I mean it.”

“You too, Chris. I know that’s particularly hard for you to open up but whatever you tell me, I would never judge you.”

“I know, babygirl,” Chan chuckles softly and does something that further confuses the already blurred lines of your friendship. He kisses you on the lips, deeply and sweetly. Not like how you kiss your best friend but how you kiss a lover.

“Do you want…to come inside?” you offer, not knowing what exactly, considering you just ended a very overwhelming scene.

Actually, you know what you want. You want him to hold you, to watch a dumb movie and eat popcorn together. You want…more than you can have.

“I gotta get some work done,” Chan says with a wince. “I’m really behind on stuff.”

“Is it…my fault?”

“No way. I just can’t stop thinking of…our games even when I’m supposed to be working,” he admits.

Phew. You’re glad he didn’t say he can’t stop thinking of you. If he had, you wouldn’t be able to let him go to work.

“Right. Same here,” you reply dumbly.

“If you need anything and I mean, anything, just give me a call or a text. I’ll keep my phone nearby.”

“You really shouldn’t, I’ll keep annoying you,” you mumble self-consciously.

Chan grips your hand and squeezes it comfortingly.

“You could never annoy me, okay?”

“Okay, daddy,” you say it playfully, eliciting a giggle out of his beautiful mouth.

“Do you have any particular wishes for…you know, next time?”

“I do, but it’s kinda mild compared to what we’ve done already,” you shrug. “Dunno if you’d be into it.”

“Name it and it’s yours,” Chan assures you.

“How do you feel about…fucking me while I’m asleep?”

To be continued…

[eiralunaire]

Incorrect Quotes from Damian Wayne/Reader.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

*Damian, looking at a Reader action figure in a store.*

Damian: "I need her. She's perfect. She's perfect."

*Jon, sighing next to him.*

Jon: "Damian, you already have three different versions of that figure. One even in limited edition."

Damian: "But this one has *new* details. It's an investment in my love!"

Jon: "It's an investment in madness, that's what it is."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

*Damian reading Reader fanfics on Wattpad.*

Jon, peering over Damian's shoulder: "Are you... reading Reader fanfics?"

Damian, eyes still on the screen: "It's a way for me to get closer to her. Writers understand our love."

Jon: "Damian... Are you leaving comments on those fanfics?"

Damian, very serious: "Yes, I have to correct anything that isn't true to her true essence."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

*Damian at a comic convention, dressed as Robin, but with a 'Team Reader' sign.*

Jon, raising an eyebrow: "Damian, this is already crossing the boundaries of reality."

Damian: "Only those who don't understand true love would set boundaries."

Jon: "I have a hard time understanding how you haven't realized she's... you know, fictional."

Damian, looking at the poster with pride: "Love doesn't have to be real to be true."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

*Damian buying a replica of Reader's sword from an online store.*

Jon: "Do you really need another replic of her sword?"

Damian: "This one is different. It has engravings depicting our times together."

Jon: "Damian, you *haven't* had any times together."

Damian, indignant: "That's a lie! Every time I read her comic, we go on epic adventures. You don't understand!"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

*Damian watching an animated series where Reader appears, completely mesmerized.*

Jon, entering the room: "Watching the Reader series again?"

Damian: "It's not just a series, Jon. It's a masterpiece. Every scene is a poem."

Jon: "It's a cartoon series. And you obsess over it like it's real."

Damian, eyes shining: "For me, it is."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

*Damian buying a pillow with Reader's face on it.*

Jon: "Damian, this is the limit. A pillow with her face on it?"

Damian: "It's to have her close, even when I sleep. It's a basic need."

Jon, resigned: "A basic need is to breathe, Damian. Not this."

Damian: "If I can't be with her, at least I can dream about her."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

*Damian secretly writing fanfics about him and Reader.*

Jon, catching him in the middle of writing: "What are you doing?"

Damian, trying to hide the screen: "Nothing! Just... creating a masterpiece."

Jon, peeking: "Are you writing a fanfic about you and Reader?"

Damian: "It's not a fanfic! It's... our love story. One day it will be real."

Jon: "Damian, we need to have a long conversation about reality and fantasy."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This shit definitely cracks me up, you can tell i made Damian a bit Ooc but it's just to make this humorous. It reminds me of my high school self, in love with pure fictional character.

[rovingotter]

Heavy spoilers for Joker: Folie à Deux beneath the cut.

Joker 2019 is a movie that is often misunderstood, and one that means a lot to me.  It doesn’t quite manage to nudge out some of my childhood animated favorites like The Last Unicorn and Watership Down, but Joker is definitely in my top three favorite live action movies.  It got me back into writing fanfic after a long dry spell.

I didn’t think it needed a sequel.  Most people didn’t.  The first movie told the story it needed to tell.  I was wary going into this.  After hearing that it was a musical (and with Gaga as Harley?), I didn’t know what to expect but I thought that even if it was bad, even if it completely misfired, it would at least be an entertaining and funny trainwreck. 

Turns out, it’s not funny at all.  This movie gutted me.

I wish it didn’t exist.  The experience of watching it was…I’m still processing it, but I think I can say at this point that it was an unpleasant experience, but also a captivating one.  I hate it but I also weirdly have a higher opinion of it than most people seem to.  I feel like it was tonally true to the first movie.  I think Phoenix and Gaga both breathed life into their roles.  The musical numbers didn’t seem strictly necessary but they also didn’t detract from the experience for me. Music was an important element of the first movie as well.

I also think the central premise is an interesting one.  Arthur, incarcerated in Arkham, is facing the possibility that he’ll be sentenced to death for the murders he committed in the first movie.  His lawyer is aiming for an insanity defense and tries to convince the jury that the Joker is a separate personality—that Joker, not Arthur, killed those people.  In order to save his own life, Arthur needs to convince the jury that he’s not Joker…or he can take a different path. He can say "fuck it," fully embrace the Joker persona and live whatever time is left laughing and watching everything burn.  This is what Harley "Lee" Quinzel, who admires Joker and the chaos he represents, wants him to do.

In the end, he does neither.

After being forced to sit in silence for days and listen to a defense that both infantilizes and dehumanizes him, reducing him to a set of symptoms, stripping him bare and putting all his pain and humiliation on display, Arthur can’t take it anymore.  He fires his lawyer (who represents his best hope of survival) and elects to represent himself.  Initially he tries to represent himself as Joker, to lean into that persona, but he’s not feeling it anymore…especially after the confrontation with Gary Puddles, the guy who was probably his only true friend before he became Joker.  In the first movie, Arthur spared Gary’s life but left him deeply traumatized after he witnessed the death of Randall, the coworker who bullied Arthur.  This conversation with Gary was one of the most riveting parts of the movie for me.  There is a nakedness and rawness to it. Arthur tries to say "fuck it," but ultimately, he can't. Not in the face of Gary's pleading and pain.

After this, some horrible things happen to Arthur in Arkham.  The guards beat him and brutally assault him.  They kill his fellow inmate who tries to offer him support, because the system is still ruthless and still failing vulnerable people.  Arthur is left broken, helpless. Again. Some people have interpreted this scene as the reason he ultimately sheds his Joker persona, but I think it would have shaken out differently if not for that earlier conversation with Gary.  Because Gary is possibly the only person who truly cared about Arthur, when he was only Arthur—a fellow outcast, and the only guy who never made fun of him. 

Joker makes fun of Gary, because Joker makes fun of everything.  And Arthur realizes that he’s not—doesn’t want to be Joker. At his core, he's sick of pain and violence, both his own and other people's. He wants to try to break the cycle.

In the end, Arthur stands before everyone not as Joker but as Arthur Fleck—he stands alone and naked, shattered, traumatized, with no remaining allies, and he takes responsibility.  He says that he did those things.  He did them because he was having a mental breakdown, yes, because he was wounded and wronged by an unjust world, but he regrets it, now.  He hurt some bad people, but he also hurt some people who didn’t deserve it.  He’s tired of being the clown.  He just wants to live.  That was all he ever wanted, really.  Just a little bit of kindness and respect.

This is his truth:  Joker is a part of him, but a part that was born out of pain.  His deepest self is Arthur. In admitting that, he lays it all on the line, in that moment. And this is, in my opinion, the bravest thing he could have done.  I had my hand over my heart for this whole scene. 

And for this small, fragile act of courage, he is utterly forsaken by the world.  Lee—the one person who he has a connection with—is in love with Joker, not Arthur.  She walks out of the courtroom.  She abandons him in his moment of greatest need—not out of malice, but out of weakness. Because she wants to live in a fantasy world and she can't handle the reality of who he is:  not an embodiment of chaos and power, not a symbol, but a man, a vulnerable man who is full of regrets but who is trying, in his own confused way, to be better.

The first movie was bleak but it offered a glimpse of a twisted kind of hope at the end with Arthur finding inner peace even as he’s condemned to a life in psychiatric incarceration for his actions.  This movie takes that bit of hope and grinds it into the dust.  It’s a tragedy, through and through.

Arthur’s random, pointless death at the end feels almost redundant because it’s made clear by that point that his spirit has already been slain.  His connection with Lee was all he had, and when it’s revealed to be an illusion, that’s it.  He can no longer exist as the Joker but he can’t exist as Arthur, either.  He tried his best and was rejected for it.  It didn’t work.  He’s done. 

There are a lot of takes about how this movie should have gone, and honestly, most of them sound terrible to me.  I think this is the only way a sequel could have gone while remaining honest, which is why I didn’t want a sequel.

You can’t hear me, Arthur, but I love you, and I’m proud of you for standing before the world as yourself, and you didn’t deserve to die the way you did. 

This world is fucking cruel.

[cherrychilli]

18+ Eddie Munson x F! reader, established relationship, oral sex (m receiving), performing sex acts with food Summary: Eddie makes an unusual request when watching you eat your favorite candy gives him an idea WC: 2.7K

A/N: I've got a serious sweet tooth and with it being spooky season and all, I just had to write this. Enjoy!

You'd been doing it for a while now, peering out of your bedroom window to watch the brisk autumn breeze lift withered leaves of orange and brown up high before they fluttered back down and came to rest on your front lawn.

Somehow you were yet to tire of of the sight, feeling both soothed and all cozied up in the blanket you'd plucked from your bed. Draping it around your shoulders, you wrapped the rest around your middle while you stood there, creating a cocoon of warmth as you watched more fallen leaves tumble along the yard before the wind blew them up high again.

You liked this time of year more than others, content with quietly soaking up all the little sights and sounds Autumn had to offer when the sound of your cellphone rattling on your desk takes you out of the peaceful scene.

Crossing the room before you miss it, you see the name displayed on your screen and that alone is enough to make you smile, happily swiping to answer his call.

You'd been set on spending the day at home and all bundled up when only three minutes into the call and he manages to tempt you out of your cocoon. Eddie was always good at convincing you like that, this time inviting you over for a lazy evening at his place. He makes promises of a B horror movie classic shoved into the VCR to entertain you both and more importantly, a bowl full of your favorites to fill your belly.

Swallowing as you salivate, you promise to be there in no more than fifteen minutes, managing a quick change of clothes before you take off for the trailer park with your tummy rumbling all throughout your drive there.

By the time you arrive with five minutes to spare too, the once bright flamingo sky had started to dull into a dark raven, the stars and moon soon to follow as you step out of the car and make your way over.

Treading towards the trailer your eyes settle on something both new and familiar, a big smile breaking out on your face when you get a little closer and recognize the carved pumpkin sitting out on the Munson's doorstep.

Eddie and you had made it together a few days before, the two of you trying your best but ultimately struggling. The task was so much harder to complete than than it looked, leaving the both of you fed up and more than a little sick of the earthy scent of pumpkin that clung to your fingers.

You assumed he'd have thrown it in the trash but seeing it now, with its flame flickering gently, you found the misshapen, jagged edges framing the jack o lanterns grin oddly charming and not the disaster you thought it'd be. What's more, you liked that he cared enough to still display it proudly as a symbol of your joint effort.

Skipping up the stairs, you find the door already unlocked for you as the knob turns and you step inside, nearly bumping into Eddie in the middle of drawing the curtains shut. He takes a quick pause to kiss you hello, his lips tasting of sticky sweet strawberry before he finishes flicking the lights off to view tonight's horror movie.

"Take a seat, babe", he tells you, hurrying into the kitchenette and back with a few sodas.

You step towards the couch though you hang on the way he smiles at you, just as you had with the your gaze trained on the leaves rustling along on your lawn.

You can't help noticing the way Eddie's cheeks have begun to fill out from the frequent snacking he's done this month, not to mention the way his stomach has rounded out a bit underneath his t-shirt, the sleeves fitting more snugly around his biceps too as do his jeans as they show off the thickness of his thighs.

It's a subtle, chubby layer that makes a quiet urge brew inside you, wanting to wrap yourself around him and feel all the places he's turned softer before kissing him hard all over.

All in good time, you think to yourself, taking your place on the couch while Eddie feeds a copy of Basket Case into the VCR.

Propping your elbows on your thighs, your chin resting in your palms, you lean forward to peruse the evening's offerings sitting on the table in front of you, grinning excitedly at all the treats crowding the bowl.

"As promised my dear lady", Eddie gestures to the bowl when he catches you looking, walking back to the couch to sit by you with a playful quirk of his eyebrow.

There's enough candy inside to cause a spill if you're not careful, the top layer alone filled with so many kinds, all different flavors and sizes. You realize you're completely spoilt for choice when your eyes wander all over, roving over cherry sours, peanut butter bars, strawberry bon bons, grape sweetarts and many many more.

"Eds, this is too much", you chuckle, poking a strawberry twizzler resting at the very top of the pile.

Without missing a beat he's quick to flash you one of his best smiles, wide and warm, enough to make the coldest parts of you melt. "Just wanted to treat my favorite girl", he winks back.

That earns him another kiss, one he's more than happy to receive when you pull him closer and press your lips to the full apple of his cheek, his heart somersaulting from the quick little show of affection.

"Thank you", you tell him sincerely, giggling when you notice the sparkle glittering in his eyes.

"Oh come on. It's the least I could have done", he adds sheepishly.

With that settled, your fingers twitch as you turn your attention back to the candy, trying to decide on what you should unwrap first before you settle on a packet of pink starbursts.

The first hour passes without a hitch after that, your thigh warm against Eddie's while the two of you juggle watching the movie, making cracks at it and snacking on everything sweet and sour.

A little pile of empty candy wrappers accumulate beside the bowl during that time, still quite a bit to get through even with Eddie's help. By this point you'd sucked on many a lemon head, chewed every kind of bubble gum and bit into the occasional gooey caramels that had you sucking the stubborn leftovers still clinging to your back teeth. You fed some into Eddie's mouth too, making him happier and happier to know how much you're enjoying his little gift.

So much so that he'd begun to watch you out of the corner of his eye from time to time with quiet fascination, watching you pick a new candy and munch on it before you moved on to another.

It must be the way you're pressed up against him and the way you sweetly kiss his fingers to clear the occasional dusting of powdered sugar or smudge of gummy cherry lingering on him because he's just about lost all interest in the movie playing on TV.

He can't help but note the way your soft, sweet lips fit around each piece of candy as you place them in your mouth, your cheeks growing full and puffing out until you've chewed enough to swallow. He's transfixed on the way your tongue wraps around every lollipop, the way you suck suck suck on every sour candy, every movement of your mouth conjuring the kind of thoughts he ought to keep to himself.

That is until he feels you shift beside him.

Your eyes are coyly set on the TV like you're yet to notice Eddie's gaze on you, or at least he had thought so. He knows what's coming next when his eyes fall to his lap, your hand resting there casually, lightly grazing his dark jeans as you inch it higher and higher towards his crotch when suddenly he croaks out, "Babe? it's not that I don't want it- its just...I have this... idea and I want to run it by you first."

The movie is entirely forgotten at this point, still playing in the background and keeping the trailer lit as you listen attentively, eyes blinking up at Eddie when he finally spits it out.

"You want me to do what?", you ask, half taken aback, half ready to chortle.

"You think it's stupid, don't you?", he asks, his lips drooping into a little frown.

"I didn't say that", you tell him, huffing out a laugh through your nose when he lights up again like fireworks.

"It's just that it's not every day that I get asked to suck your cock with a mouthful of pop rocks, you know?"

Eddie lets out a weak laugh, shaking his head when he realizes how his proposition must sound to you.

"Yeah. You're right. I'm sorry, let's just forget the who-"

"Woah woah, slow down-", you quickly bring your face up to his, pressing your index finger at his lips to silence him, your gaze locked on his bambi brown eyes. You let your other hand scale his thigh just as before, this time making it to his crotch where you rub your palm firmly over the girth of his stiffening bulge. "-and take your pants off for me, Munson."

~

A weathered couch cushion keeps your knees from feeling sore, your palms pushing gently at Eddie's hairy, bare inner thighs to make room for yourself between his legs.

"Y' ready?" you ask him, peppy with excitement when you retrieve the little packet of cherry pop rocks from the half empty bowl of candy, bringing it up to your mouth to rip it open with your teeth.

You can tell that the sight of you like this is only making him even more eager judging by the way his cock twitches against his soft, pudgy belly, leaving a messy streak of precum along his skin.

"Keep doing stuff like that and I might finish before you even get started", he chuckles lightly.

Exchanging smirks, you take that as your cue to part your lips and tip the little packet of pop rocks into your mouth, the taste of sweet, tangy sugar fresh on your tongue.

The contents crackle and pop there, tickling the inside of your cheeks and the roof of your mouth too. Setting the packet aside, you wrap your fingers around Eddie's girth. With one last look at his blushing mauve cheeks and his wide, unblinking eyes, you open your mouth the point you know that your jaw will be sore later. Not that you cared, gently fitting his cock inside your waiting mouth.

"Oh god- o-oh fuck ngh...baby!"

You can only imagine what it must feel like for Eddie, your eyes fixed on the way his own squeeze shut and his teeth bite into his lower lip. For a second you even worry he might be in pain as you watch him closely, concern taking over you as you try to remove your mouth from him but Eddie moves quicker than you can.

He works a trembling hand into your hair to keep you situated. The feeling undoubtedly intense, he still manages to guide you up and down his candied shaft gently, enough to make you hum with relief as you refocus your efforts on making him feel good.

The confection continues to crackle and pop pleasantly in your mouth, tickling the back of your throat when his tip nudges you there. His entire cock is sweet to the taste as you bob and slurp thoroughly all over him, the fruity scent of cherry blending with Eddie's natural musk permeating from the untrimmed hair at his base. You liked the way it brushes your nose when you take him in deep, making sure to breathe in the scent in deep, slow breaths.

As for Eddie, the gentle motion of you tasting every inch of him makes him squirm on the couch, your saliva turning thick with the addition of the candy, a sugary syrup of sorts that tints your lips and his dick in a matching shade of rosy red.

Among the many expletives running through his mind, Eddie curses himself for not having thought of this sooner but more importantly he thinks of how he'll be returning the favor later, dead set on finding a way to give you the same kind of pleasure you're so eagerly giving him.

Comfortably perched between his legs, you take in every sigh that falls from his lips, every groan and moan that makes you tingle from the base of your spine to the top, every breathy call of your name sounding more sweeter than the last.

"Keep looking at me...yeah, that's it...need to...shi- you look so fucking perfect right now"

As much as it fills your chest with sunny warmth to hear that, you want to tell him that you feel the same way too, that you've never set your eyes on anything as beautiful as how he looks right now.

If your mouth wasn't so full with him you'd tell him how much you adored his flushed cheeks, his swollen lips and the way his sweat makes his skin glisten but something tells you that he already knows, both of you able to convey your understanding through looks alone.

So when you begin to swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock like a lolly you can tell by his pinched expression and increasingly choppy breathing that his climax isn't far off but he makes sure to tell you anyway,

"Not gonna last long, angel...", he lets out a low, pretty whine, "that mouth of yours...fuck...'s damn near dangerous"

You fight off a small laugh as you beam with pride. How could you not after receiving such praise? practically smiling around Eddie's cock as you suckle him softly.

"Wanna watch you swallow it. Wanna see it in your mouth- all full of it. C-can you do that for me? m' almost there"

As much as you'd like to run your tongue along him just a little longer, feeling him twitch and pulse in your mouth you oblige, slowly sucking your way up to his tip and letting it go with an audible pop.

Taking a moment to rub at your tired jaw, you notice all the tiny leftover specs of candy yet to dissolve coating his glossy, throbbing length, your own mouth still containing a few globs of pop rocks.

There's no time to ask if you could lick them clean, reading the urgent expression on Eddie's face with ease and dutifully opening your mouth for him. He takes over by holding his dick and stroking himself quickly, his reddened tip resting on your red stained tongue.

All it takes is a few, quick strokes until his breath stutters and his body shudders, his thick cum spurting so much and so far you feel the creamy ropes splatter some of your teeth and hit the back of your throat where it then begins to slide down, triggering you to swallow.

While you swish and taste the leftover candy cum combination in your mouth, Eddie damn near blacks out from pumping his load into your mouth, his vision turning spotty before he's able to focus on you again. Chest heaving with deep, shaky breaths, he watches in mute amazement at the way you insatiably lap up his tangy spend, raising a curious eyebrow at you when instead of getting up off your knees, you turn to fiddle with the candy bowl instead.

Though it feels impossible, you find a way to breathe more life into his spent body so quickly after making him cum and no one's more surprised about it than Eddie. His stomach flutters and his cock begins to twitch back to stiffness when he sees what you've got a hold of and Eddie realizes with glee that the night is nowhere near over.

Holding up two packets in each hand as you smile up at him from between his legs, you ask him,

"So which do you want me to try next? watermelon or blue razzberry?"

[changisworld]

Overstimulation with Jeongin

word count:2,642

18+, MDNI!! smut below

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

The final part of my 8 part masterlist of the extension of this & this headcanon of the members!!;3

Kinks & pleasures masterlist here main masterlist here

->SMUT WARNINGS: dommish!Innie, sub!reader, overstimulation, dacryphilia, use of sex toys, oral (f rec) use of flavoured lube. manipulation(???) mention of safe word but not used(light system), tittie sucking, PIV, pull out method, dirty talk, praise, squirting, aftercare is brief but happens more off screen

->I think this is actually my favourite from the whole series along with Seungmins heheh so i hope you all like it as much as I do :3

When you had first started to get to know Jeongin, you've always noticed how soft & playful he is & when you first started to get to know him sexually, you assumed he would be the exact same sweet boy, but how quickly he proved you wrong, it could have genuinely gave you whiplash.

You're straddling Jeongin as you're both on your bed, making out messily as your hands cup his sharpened jawline & his are resting comfortably on your ass, the fabric of your leggings stretching over his skin, simply resting there, caressing your curves at the same pace as both of your lips move.

"So pretty, take your shirt off f'me, wanna see your tits" he cheekily asks, his lips shiny with his spit as he breaks the kiss. You obviously rush to do as he asks, giggling as he lets out a small, happy hum as your bare chest is now on show for him & he is quick to pull you forward just enough so your chest is level with his face, before latching onto your left nipple.

You fiddle with his soft hair, grinding slowly against his clothed cock, but despite the layers of clothes covering it, you can feel it hardening. "You've got a good mouth" you say, mindlessly & you chuckle as Jeongin switches nipple, slightly nibbling down on it just the way you like.

"Yeah? I've got some more tricks I can do with it" he giggles as he flips you both over so you're on your back. "Lemme show you" he adds on as he takes the hem of your leggings & starts pulling them off your body & you huff, but you help him take them off anyway.

"Your sex drive is far too high, we fucked literally three hours ago!" you tease him as your legs spread just enough so he can slot his waist between so he can kiss you again, but he doesn't take you up on the silent offer, instead his dimpled, cheeky smile as he settles his knees on the floor at the bottom of the bed, his face now level with your covered cunt, your lace black thong presenting a small wet patch.

"I can't help it when I am with you, just one orgasm, we don't even need to fuck, just wanna taste & you do too don't you? you're so wet y/n" he purrs as he nudges his nose against your cunt, groaning at the smell.

You sigh as he starts kissing your thighs, suckling down on your sweet spots which make your legs threaten to shut around him, but are blocked by his head & shoulders.

Jeongin can tell you're getting antsy with the way you're trying to hump onto his face & he forces himself to pull back & reach into the bedside drawer & pull out your bullet vibrator & also something of his own choice, his strawberry flavoured lube.

The minute you notice the lube in his hand, you knew this would be a long scene. "Innie, just one, I want to actually function later" you chuckle & he rolls his eyes playfully up at you as he pulls your underwear down your legs, now leaving you completely bare.

He blows a cold string of air on your glistening folds & his eyes are glued to the way you clench around nothing but air & he bites his bottom lip before he opens the cap of the lube & squirts a small dollop of it just above your clit & you wince.

Jeongin puts the vibrator to the side for now but keeps it in arms reach obviously, but he doesn't waste any more time before diving into your pussy, it looking too endearing to keep himself back anymore.

You've realised long ago that he has a kind of 'specific order' in how he eats pussy, one hundred percent of the time always starting off by kitten licking your entire cunt, paying extra attention to the small spot just in between your clit & your hole, always making you want more.

He spreads the lube around your pussy, making you so wet that you're surprised his mouth doesn't quite literally slip off your pussy, which makes you laugh in your head at the thought of it.

"Innie, don't tease" you whimper in a soft voice, not wanting to jerk your hip because you know he will give you way more than you can handle simply because 'you wanted more so he gave you more'. "I'm not, just wanting to taste before I eat, don't rush me!" he replies, his fox eyes peeking up at you, the bottom half of his face hidden by your own body & you shut your legs around his head, playfully.

Jeongin is quick to pull your thighs back open & he looks at you with frowned eyes, his smile still plastered on his face & you can't help but get butterflies but also a bit nervous, not knowing what his look exactly means but you're quick to find out.

"You're so needy, & you told me my sex drive was too high." he chuckles, before he dives in. He has picked up his pace on his usual walkthrough on how he usually tastes you, before switching from tasting to eating, & one thing about Jeongin is he genuinely eats as if it's his last meal, & you lurch forward but Jeongin is quick to push you back onto the bed, his mouth not even daring to leave your mound.

Jeongin's eyes are staring up at you, with a mix of lust but also just love, & you are able to pick up on the look, his main way of non verbally showing he loves you despite how harsh he can be to you during sex & how far he pushes you to your limits.

Jeongin makes quick work of suckling on your folds, his tongue parting them as he flattens his tongue against it, lapping at your cunt, making you whimper & hum as your fingers weave into his soft hair but you don't dare tug on it, you just rub & play with his hair softly, trying to maybe get him to not be as harsh as you think he's gonna be.

Jeongin latches onto your clit & his soft lips suction to the button, tongue swirling around it in the specific pattern he knows gets you over the edge the quickest, savouring your raw taste on his taste buds, he starts palming himself over his sweatpants to try ease some of the pressure on his pulsating cock.

"Innie, g-gonna cum" you groan, your fingers clenching in his hair, making him groan in return as he can quite literally feel your clit pulsate in his mouth & he keeps the pace the exact same & your thighs slightly shake around his head before your stomach tightens & your first orgasm.. first of very many just this time alone washes over you & your toes curl, Jeongin chuckling up at you as he watches you writhe, his tongue not giving over.

You are panting as your high eventually bubbles away, but the feeling of his tongue doesn't bubble away, as he keeps the exact same speed. "Innie n-no more, sleepy" you murmur, your hips twitching at the slightly painful feeling sinking in.

"Cmon, you can handle one more, you've only came once today, it's fine" he purrs & you look down at him as soon as you process his words. "Jeongin you've made me cum four times today, my clit is gonna fall off" you cry & jeongin gets back to what he was doing, sucking & tasting before swallowing the remainder of the lube that he hasn't already swallowed & replies to you by saying "nuh uh, only gave you one today, can't you remember?" before he decides to be 'nice' & give you a small break & sits back on his knees slightly as he decides that your hole needs some attention too, so he slides two of his long, slender fingers into you, a small squelching noise being heard.

"You're so wet, you enjoy this almost as much as i do don't you" he teases as he starts scissoring them in & out of you & you can't help but chase the feeling despite it stinging from overstimulation, & any comeback you had dies in your throat as you bask in the feeling, whimpering & whining at the feeling.

As your eyes are shut & your arms are thrown over your face as you try fuck yourself on his fingers & as you're distracted, Jeongin reaches to grab the small vibrator placed on the bed & before you realise, he has turned it on & has placed it on your already swollen clit & you hiss & tense up, your cunt clenching around his fingers.

"Ah, fuck Innie, s-so much" you blabber, your hips subconsciously trying to get more feeling from the vibrator while also trying to escape from it at the same time, but he is so quick to stop you from trying to shuffle away. "Don't run from it, I wouldn't give you anything you couldn't handle, so be good, mkay? gimme one more then I'll stop, pinky swear" he talks, his voice sounding breathless as if he was the one receiving it all.

You can't do anything other than nod at his words as he then adds a third finger, meeting almost no resistance from how soaked you really are, but you feel even impossibly fuller & you let out a whine.

You can feel what feels like your millionth orgasm of the day bubbling up in the pit of your stomach again as Jeongin starts poking & probing against your soft spot at the same time he switches the vibrator to the highest setting & you can tell your orgasm feels different & you know what it is.

"Innie, cumm-" you're cut off by yourself as your orgasm hits you harder this time & this time it squirts out of you & sprays onto the vibrator before spraying onto his bare chest, before dripping down his skin along with dripping down onto the knuckles that are poking out from your hole before he is forced to pull them out from how hard you're clenching around them & he takes it upon himself to fiddle with your clit at a quick pace to pull the rest of your orgasm out of you, humming at the sight.

Your hair is sticking to your face because of the thin layer of sweat & your legs can't help but shut around his hand & he pulls it away from your abused cunt, letting you catch your breath slightly as he takes this opportunity to take off the rest of the clothes he still has on, his cock leaking at the tip so much you'd assume he had already came in his pants.

"So good aren't you, I think you can handle just one more" he states, not really bothering to ask. "Too much Inniee" you pant, your legs still closed but Jeongin opens them before positioning himself between them. "What's your colour?" he asks, his voice turning softer as he pumps himself slowly with one hand & caresses your thigh with the other.

"Gr-green" you whimper to him, your voice completely hushed out & raspy sounding & dry from using it so much. Jeongin smiles down at you, his dimples making your heart flutter & you make grabby hands & he knows to fold himself forwards to be face level with you as he lines himself up with you before pushing in, making you both moan in unison.

"How is it you're always so tight hmm? I literally fucked you open earlier & even made you squirt but you're still dying for more" he buzzes, his own voice raspy too as he begins to fuck you at a slow pace, deciding to give you the small amount of time to adjust.

"So- so big, fuck" you whimper, clenching uncontrollably around his long, slender cock & Jeongin can't help but blush at your words.

He starts to pick up his pace, his tip bullying into your cervix, kissing it roughly with each thrust as he tries to shut his own growing whimpers & groans by kissing you, mostly to shut himself up because he would rather be mute than let himself miss your noises & the way your cunt is squelching around him each time he thrusts makes him thankful he did so.

You struggle to kiss him back as you are allowing yourself to fully swallow yourself in the pleasure the man above is giving you.. the only man who could do this for you, your eyes watering & even a few tears start to escape your eyes from the painful pleasure, your cervix being poked & no doubt bruised but the feeling of your G-spot being also poked & also probably bruised, covers the painful part almost entirely.

"S-wanna cum a-again Inn, ca-can't handle it" you shriek as you turn your head sideways enough just to break your lips apart to tell him & he can't even chuckle at your state, his own orgasm starting to form as he stands back, his pace not faltering as he has to mentally beg himself to not let his eyes shut so he doesn't miss anything.

He thinks to himself your clit looks 'abandoned' or 'lonely' so of course he fixes that issue, by yet again partnering it with his thumb & you lurch forward, your hands making quick work of trying to paw his hand from your clit but he uses his other hand to push yours away.

"Keep em away, I know you're g-gonna cum again, gonna cum too, t-so tight" he groans, his eyebrows furrowed as he is biting down on his bottom lip & you clench your fingers so hard into the bedsheets that they're turning white as you can't stop moaning, the room full of the sounds.

"Cryin f'me? is it that much for you y/nnie? just let go, so pretty when you cry" he utters as he watches your face contort & your toes start curling again as your legs shake around him again & before you can warn him, you're squirting for the second time & Jeongin has to pull himself out from how tightly you constrict & not even a couple of seconds after he is fisting his cock while watching your own orgasm spray out of you, he is cumming all over your lower tummy, a few drops shooting up towards your tits.

He tries to get his breath back as quickly as possible as he is also helping you by picking you up & making quick work of helping move to the bathroom & setting you on the countertop as he starts running a bath before turning around to kiss you all over your cheeks & drying the tears from your cheeks & then kissing you all over again, moving your dampened hair rom your face.

"Wait here f'me & Ima get us water then we can bath together, I'll bring your chocolate too" he says in his completely normal cheery voice, before running out of the room still naked into the kitchen.

->Taglist & anon list is open!

@jisungml

[ilions-end]

i finished statius' ACHILLEID. thoughts thoughts thoughts:

i knew going in it was a VERY short unfinished epic, but i didn't know it would be FUN?? if i ever get that time machine, FIRST THING i go back and find one publius papinius statius, i lock him in a room, and i'm NOT letting him out until he's finished the achilleid!

achilles is statius' BLORBO in a way neither homer, quintus nor virgil have blorbos. statius likes achilles to be strong and pretty and graceful, but most of all ENDEARING even when he fails. and he fails a lot, because this is him still figuring out how to be an adult, not to mention a prophesied legend literally everyone is waiting for to step up

the one thing that gets tiring is just how many prophecies permeate the achilleid. nothing's left to chance, there are so few unknowns. even ODYSSEUS was aware that from peleus' wedding there would come a child destined to be a central warrior in an upcoming gigantic war.

as it stands, the achilleid is more of a... thetisiad? she is very centered in the narrative (we spend more time looking at things from her point of view than achilles') and there is SO MUCH SYMPATHY for her, oh my gosh!! she loves ONE person, her son, the only worthwhile thing she got out of a traumatizing marriage, and she despairs that he's fated to die young in a silly human war.

also i'm a deidamia defender forever now. so three-dimensional, so clever!

aughhh i love how much characterization statius puts in, even in the small scenes! my favourite example is odysseus and diomedes as they walk up to lycomedes' place (literally just moving characters from A to B). diomedes teases odysseus, and odysseus is delighted to be teased. that night we're told odysseus CAN'T SLEEP because he's too excited about showing off his plan the next morning!

the unveiling of achilles is completely different from the chagrined defeat/"achilles is a fucking idiot" ways i've heard it retold! i love that it's collaborative, it's a mutual triumph. it's just as much achilles (who's been suffering in gender dysphoria hell for a year) longing to be exposed as it is odysseus LIVING for showing everyone (especially diomedes?) how clever he is. it's not just the shield and the spear and the bugle, it's odysseus playing the part of the siren, whispering in achilles' ear that he knows who he is and describing how glorious he will be on the trojan battlefield. it's achilles' grateful relief at being ALLOWED not to pretend anymore as he rips off his own dress even before the bugle calls

also it's very important to me that the moment he's no longer hunching over trying to make himself look small and inoffensive, we're told achilles is taller than both odysseus and diomedes

i KEEP IMAGINING how good statius would have made the rest!! especially because as book ii ends, achilles regards odysseus as a cool uncle; he's the guy who rescued him! i want to think statius would have put in the big mystery quarrel achilles and odysseus are said to have had early in the war, something to drastically change that affection. i want to know how statius would have handled troilus, and the gods. augh statius you roman BLUEBALLER

an assortment of story beats still revolving in my head:

chiron is such a sweetheart!! he's SO gallant with thetis, he's so affectionate with achilles. he HIDES HIS TEARS when achilles leaves, awww

statius writes out phoinix completely. as a phoinix stan i object. sure chiron can raise young achilles, but i NEED phoinix to tend to him as a baby

i enjoy how achilles EXPLODES into a mess of teenagerly hormones when he first sees deidaima. it's so funny that thetis is looking on (and we get my favourite simile of the achilleid, of a herdsman delighting in a young bull snorting and foaming at a beautiful heifer) like "aaaaand there's my son's sexual awakening. i see! well, we can use that" and THAT explains why achilles is so willing to commit to the female disguise

(listen. listen. few things mean more to me than the love between achilles and patroclus. but achilles is a teenage boy at the age when a fucking breeze will give him a boner, and deidamia is the most beautiful and the cleverest of her sisters. i really enjoy a story where achilles and deidamia are neither "fated eternal true love" or one's a sneaky opportunist. it's much more compelling that they're both knots of budding emotions and bodily feedback)

i notice that statius never uses the name pyrrha, he doesn't seem to have a fake name at all, just "achilles' sister"

lycomedes is SO honoured and proud that thetis is entrusting her daughter to him. i feel sorry for lycomedes, he seems so earnest and hasn't done anything to get tricked

the one thing i can't forgive statius for is that after spending SO much time establishing that achilles and deidamia (who knows he's a guy) are genuinely into each other, it feels like statius goes OUT OF HIS WAY assuring us that their first sexual encounter is rape. sure they talk right after, deidamia forgives him, AND i understand there are social rules that makes deidamia more "honourable" and "worthy" when she resists, but like. sigh.

aLONG with the previously mentioned interplay between odysseus and diomedes as they walk up to lycomedes' court, there's a simile where they're both starving wolves on the hunt. so sexy it's almost illegal

the feast scene is SO FUNNY omg. all of achilles' careful feminine training dissolving because odysseus and diomedes are there with their boundless masculinity for him to feed off of. deidamia practically WRESTLING achilles back down on the couch every time he forgets himself and behaves too much like a man. odysseus chatting with lycomedes SPECIFICALLY trying to rile up achilles, and then after the women have left (achilles dragging his feet and looking back, YEARNING for their male company) odysseus specifically praises the maiden's "almost masculine" beauty (because ohh he suspects. he just needs to prove it in the morning. he can't SLEEP for it)

when they depart, achilles earnestly swears to deidamia that no other women shall ever bear his children. i find it interesting as a reminder of the social rules of its era. neither of them expect achilles to be sexually exclusive, just not fathering potential heirs. which again makes me wonder about the contraceptives in ancient greece

on the ship towards aulis, diomedes begs achilles to tell them all about his feats and training with chiron, and achilles is so shy about it! who can blame him! diomedes has a WAY more impressive track record

odysseus is SO good at firing up achilles' outrage at paris even as he's just catching him up on what the war's about. and he's so pleased at how easily achilles' outrage can be directed! you KNOW that would have developed in such an interesting way AUGH THE REST WOULD HAVE BEEN SO GOOD.

[infamous-if]

– update

Hello! I don't think I've done these in a while but just wanted to share that I'm going through the bugs and errors slowly but surely. The bug of the infinite loading screen/Blake bug is one that I can't fix because it works for others and then doesn't for some. I'm definitely going to make a new link and probably new save files to avoid that once I release the first patch! Sorry 'bout that.

This was sent to me from the cog forum: A lovely redditor told me to play the game all the way to that point through your browser (I had Safari) save it before you hit the infinite load. Then go to the author’s Tumblr page and load the demo through there then load your save. That worked a charm for me.

Hopefully that works for now!

Having said that, I'm hoping to choose beta testers once the first patch is done. If you aren't chosen this round don't fret, I'll definitely need more and more as the game gets bigger! :) I think it'll be by a chapter-by-chapter basis, though I'm not completely sure yet. Sorry about the long wait. Infamous is still my first IF and anything that doesn't relate to just…writing is something I still struggle with, in other words idk what im doing ❤️ /lh

I've started preparing the Patreon content for this month! thanks for your patience! I just wanted to get the chapter out before focusing on anything else.

And finally I have the outlines for 4/5 done. They're a bare-bones skeleton bullet pointed deal which gives me freedom to pin down the scenes when I do scene outlines but I'm excited for chapter 4 and to write the next week on tour! Chapter 3 felt a little like an intermission hahah which at least gives us a breather before jumping back into it.

That's all! Happy everyone enjoyed chapter three. Thank you :)

[stackslip]

I wanna ask what’s going on with arcane but I feel like I’m opening pandora’s box 😅

the thing about arcane s1's writing, is that every plot beat flowed naturally from characters' choices, and every one of the characters' choices made sense in the context of who that character was, where they came from and what information they are working with at the time they make that decision. it felt like a tightly written tragedy where on a rewatch, it all feels completely inevitable that things would end this way because it made sense to who we learned these characters were. and said characters were layered, much time was devoted to giving them a certain degree of depth and believability (bar cait). you can criticize other aspects of s1's writing such as liberal wishwashiness but s1 of arcane was a *good* tragedy with a genuinely compelling cast! the final scene of the show is a confrontation between three major players who were all working with different information and whose motivations are completely at odds but who have a deeply personal tie, it's about jinx as the end result of the zaun-piltover conflict, it's about vi and silco being two deeply broken people who see her in an idealized version they deeply love and want her to remain this static thing they can be comfortable with until it turns out she can't be and she shatters and at the same time irreversably destroys her relationship to both, leading her in her despair to set off the ticking time bomb that is piltover and zaun's inevitable conflict!

so like, s1 has its flaws but its finale imo was perfect and made the whole thing self contained. i was ok with s2 happening. the only thing i wanted was more the dynamic character writing. i expected wishy washy politcs. and act 1 of s2 already struggled with character, but at least the plot beats were interesting and while not earned, made sense according to the characters we'd left in s1.

s2 act 2 is an absolute catastrophe, even compared to the previous act, nevermind compared to s1. it's not just that the plot beats don't feel earned, it's not just that it's missing connective tissue between them--it's that all the most interesting conflicts and dynamics just cease to exist. they don't get "resolved", they either are completely forgotten or are just waved away magically to pave the way for an utterly stupid, shlocky, wannabe shock value emotional final ten minutes of episode 6 that is honestly infuriating in how it's trying to push you to have feelings about it. i don't have any feelings besides revulsion and bafflement frankly. even before these final ten minutes of ep 6, the sheer lack of buildup or of character moments, the way characters are basically willed by the plot to be there at specific points for plot to happen to them instead of them arriving at it naturally--the way it reframes interesting aspects of s1 and s2 act 1 into shlocky, tropey bullshit--it's honestly near mesmerizing? it's like they brought in whole different new writers specifically for this who decided to back down on ANYTHING the show did that was interesting to try to instead push to the league's status quo instead, no matter how little sense it makes. i'm almost in awe. how do you mess up so badly.

this isn't just like, the plot is rushed and we need to get there as fast as possible--none of these resolutions make SENSE. jinx and vi's relationship was the core of season one, and suddenly magically jinx shows up at vi's door and vi bitches a little and then they go hunt vander down together and then they all hug because he was their father too <333 isha. i'm supposed to have emotions about isha? she sacrifices herself for.... forwhat? what? why? it's like they knew they had to kill her off to give jinx feelings and do so in the most stupid and absurd way possible, i was laughing hysterically when the music came in. it was so blatantly manipulative and uncalled for. ok i guess! sevika helps jinx and then once she's served her plot purpose she just vanishes! doesn't she wanna meet vander??? ekko's disappearance doesn't both people much i guess even his own firelights. ambessa says a single line about mel disappearing, and can i say i'm kinda infuriated that two out of three of the main black characters are just locked away from the plot and main cast for a large period of time. jayce--i guess they'll give us an explanation as to why but here it's like he just...... shows up angry and "ruins" things and that's it. whatever there was to ruin lmfao sky and viktor's heterosexuality mind palace leading to him being cyborg satan or some shit? cait finally FINALLY gets some personality, something interesting to her, she is openly a reactionary fascist who gassed half the undercity to sniff out jinx, and then she meets vi and within a solid minute is now back to being Nice and helping out jinx. i guess. silco and vander's backstory kind of completely destroys a lot of the stuff that made vander and silco's relationship to vi and jinx interesting and goes for a Family Is 5ever approach i guess.

just. i don't think there's a single thing there that's redeemable or interesting. it's comically bad. vi has no personality or motivation. she just does things. she got an emo trauma amv so that we get that she's sad but it might as well not have happened bc she barely is a character. jinx is a sad manic pixie dream girl. her psychosis is gone or barely there now apparently. sevika is plot and then vanishes when her part is done. ambessa is not a mastermind as act 1 hinted at but the most stupid comical villain alive. mel is--is she just going to come back to do a big plot thing in act 3 and then that's it? ekko the same? we have no idea what jayce is even doing or what or why. piltover and zaun are gonna ally now i guess lol. ok sure why not. why anything. why do anything at all! what's the point!

it's funny bc i was willing to give this season a chance despite act 1 being so rushed bc again, the plot points were interesting and while the characters needed more time fleshed out for their decisions to make sense i COULD see the characters making these choices and it was just a question of missing buildup. here it's like everyone is a zombie of their actual self. there's no point to anything. it's so stupid. it tries hard to play the emotion part but why should i feel any emotion except befuddlement? why are caitvi shippers happy? i'd be insulted. i feel insulted. i heard via a friend that riot had intervened in the writing more and so far i hadn't felt it but now i'm wondering if that's not exactly what happened bc it genuinely feels like the writers were fired right after act 1. what the fuck lol. i don't think i even wanna watch act 3 after this, i feel genuinely insulted that i should be expected to think this is the same show as s1 or that i should feel any kind of positive feelings about it. fuck this show so bad lmfao i'm sticking to s1 and pretending nothing happened after it. maybe grabbing some act 1 plot points for fun and that's it. it's so bad

[eunseoksimp]

Obsession ; Lee Donghyuck

Pairings: Ex Boyfriend! Donghyuck x Fem!Reader

Genre: angst, smut

Description: trapped in a web of desire and destruction, you find yourself drawn back to donghyuck—a man who thrives on your desperation, wielding your vulnerabilities like weapons for his amusement. he's cold, cruel, and intoxicating, a storm you can't resist even as it tears you apart. torn between guilt and longing, between a love that nurtures and a lust that consumes, you surrender to the chaos, knowing he’ll leave you broken but always coming back for more.

Warnings: donghyuck being your piece of shit ex that you can’t resist, infidelity and questionable morals, fingering, unprotected sex, use of swear words

a/n: it’s been such a long time since i’ve written something, but i saw the dreamies live three weeks ago and i couldn’t get haechan out of my head. also isn't a riize post oops. also trying to slowly ease back in to writing a bit more smut without cringing :)

. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ . ⋆ * .♡ *:･ﾟ. ݁ ˖ ࣪ .

“i’m starting to think you’re enjoying this a lot more than you let on,” he drawls, his voice a velvet blade, cutting through the fragile resolve you tried to muster.

what could you say? what excuse could possibly justify why you always found yourself drawn back here, like a moth courting the flame it once swore to avoid?

the door swings open, and there he stands, the glow from the hallway casting a golden halo over his sharp features—a devil in disguise. his lips curl into that infuriatingly lazy smile, a smirk that teeters on the edge of arrogance and amusement, gaze raking over you, deliberate and slow, before his fingers loop around your wrist and pull you inside.

the warmth of his touch shoots through you, a traitorous shiver trailing in its wake and he catches it, of course, his smirk widening, as you practically feel the weight of his ego swelling in the confined space.

nine months. nine months since you stormed out of this very apartment, every door slam echoing your hurt, every bitter word hanging in the air like a ghost. you had left him, shattered and raw, swearing it was the last time. yet, here you were—cruel fate, or perhaps just your own weakness, leading you back to the scene of your undoing.

“shut up, hyuck,” you murmur, keeping your gaze firmly anchored to the floor. even now, you can’t bring yourself to meet those molten eyes, the ones that always seem to see right through you.

“cute,” he muses, his tone dripping with mockery. “you think pretending to hate this will make cheating on your boyfriend any easier to justify?”

the words hit like a lash, shame igniting across your skin. but then he moves, closing the space between you with the ease of a predator circling prey. each step is deliberate, calculated, until your back hits the edge of his marble countertop, the cold surface seeping through your clothes, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from him.

his hands settle on the small of your back, the grip firm but not harsh, like he knows he doesn’t need force to reel you in. his touch drags you forward, and your breath catches as the cool metal of his rings presses against your sides, tracing small, maddening circles.

shame courses through you like a tidal wave, bitter and suffocating, but it’s no match for the inferno he stokes within you. desire, hot and all-consuming, rises to meet his touch, stealing the air from your lungs as he tilts his head, lips ghosting dangerously close to yours.

in this moment, your body betrays you completely, leaning into his pull, despite the fractured pieces of your conscience screaming in protest.

and he knows. god, he knows.

“look at me,” hyuck’s voice is a low, deliberate murmur, the kind of sound that slithers down your spine and pools in your stomach. his lips hover near the shell of your ear, the heat of his breath prickling your skin. your fingers dig into the edge of the table, the hard wood biting into your palms as you fight the tremor threatening to buckle your knees.

you don’t dare obey. you know better than to meet his gaze—those dark, magnetic eyes that have always been your undoing. one look, and you’d be lost. he’d have you exactly where he wanted, and like the fool you are, you’d let him.

instead, you shake your head in protest, squeezing your eyes shut as if that flimsy barrier could shield you from the pull of him. you don’t see it—the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips, the way that wicked grin carves its way across his face, sharp as a blade and twice as dangerous.

and then you feel it.

his hand wraps around your neck, firm and unrelenting, his grip just enough to force your eyes to fly open. a gasp tears from your lips, sharp and startled, as you’re dragged back into his orbit.

“you know I hate asking twice, angel,” he says, his voice dripping with mock sweetness, though the pressure of his hand tightens ever so slightly. your pulse throbs wildly against his palm, and you hate—hate—the way it echoes the same rhythm pounding between your thighs.

he sees it all. knows it all. and the glint in his eyes says as much.

as if to drive the point home, hyuck pulls you closer by the neck, erasing the last sliver of distance between you. his gaze doesn’t waver, locked on yours like a predator reveling in its prey’s surrender.

“but of course,” he purrs, his lips curling into a smirk that’s pure sin, “you probably like making me have to bend you to my will.”

you can’t speak. whether it’s from the pressure of his hand around your neck or the weight of his question, you’re not sure. but deep down, you know the real reason—the truth festering in the corners of your mind that you could never bring yourself to admit.

how could you say it aloud? that you relished this? that the chaos he stirred in you, the reckless abandon he ignited, was something no one else could replicate? certainly not your sweet, dependable boyfriend.

your boyfriend. the thought flickers briefly, like a distant beacon you don’t really want to follow. he was kind, attentive, always answering your texts with care, never vanishing into thin air to “enjoy the night” or leaving you second-guessing yourself.

he was everything hyuck wasn’t. and yet, here you were.

because there was something about hyuck—the way he upended your calm, the way his unpredictability set every nerve in your body alight. you knew the butterflies in your stomach weren’t some romantic thrill but a warning, your body screaming danger. yet, you ran toward it anyway, like a ship steering straight into the storm.

you’d leave your boyfriend’s place with flimsy excuses—work, errands, anything to mask the truth—and find yourself here, wrapped in donghyuck’s intoxicating pull.

donghyuck, with his honey-brown skin that seemed to glow in the dimmest light. donghyuck, with his dark hair falling just so, framing those piercing eyes that stripped you bare, laying your soul out for him to toy with. no one else had ever reached you like this—peeling back layers you didn’t even know existed, exposing raw emotions you didn’t know how to hide.

and he knew it. of course he did. that’s why he’d send you pictures of other girls he was hooking up with—deliberate, cruel, knowing exactly what it would do to you. he fed on your reactions, thrived on them, wielding them like a blade. and like the masochist you were, you let him. you always let him.

“enlighten me,” he taunts now, his lips curling into that smug, wolfish grin. “why is it you keep showing up at my door, hmm?”

“i thought you told me you found everything you deserved in him.”

his voice is low, teasing, but there’s an edge to it, sharp enough to cut. he knows the answer, of course. he always does. but he wants to hear it fall from your lips, to drag the truth from you as if it’ll make his triumph all the sweeter.

“words, angel. i need you to use them,” he coos, his mockery wrapped in honey. his lips purse into a feigned pout, as though this were some mundane conversation, as though his fingers weren’t still wrapped firmly around your neck, holding you in place.

“i-i…” the words stumble from your mouth, fractured and useless. the dizziness comes next—a hazy swirl from the weight of his grip, but worse, the heat that floods your body as his lips descend.

they graze your neck, soft yet deliberate, each kiss a spark igniting a trail of fire beneath your skin. goosebumps erupt in his wake, your body betraying you yet again. you head tilts of its own accord, baring your throat to him as if in surrender.

and hyuck? he chuckles softly against your skin, low and smug, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“so eager for me. i wonder,” hyuck murmurs, his voice a silken blade that slices through the last of your composure, “if you’re this pliant for sungchan.”

the name lands like a blow, a reminder of the person you’ve betrayed in your spiral back to hyuck’s clutches. your breath hitches, eyes squeezing shut as the sting of guilt prickles behind them.

you bite down hard on your lip, desperate to stifle the sob building in your throat. what kind of person does this? what kind of girlfriend are you, when your body—traitorous and weak—only seems to come alive for him?

a single tear escapes, tracing a slow, shameful path down your cheek. hyuck’s low chuckle follows, dark and knowing. the click of his tongue reverberates through you, his enjoyment as palpable as the air that thrums with tension.

he releases your neck, his hands sliding up to cradle your face instead, his thumb swiping away the tear with a tenderness so contradictory it makes your chest ache.

“don’t cry, silly girl,” he croons, his tone both mocking and saccharine. “i already know the answer to that question.”

you try to look away, but his grip keeps you steady, his gaze locking onto yours with the kind of intensity that burns.

“of course you don’t,” he continues, his lips curving into a smirk that doesn’t reach his eyes. “nobody knows how to make you feel this way but me. that’s why you keep coming back.” he leans in closer, his words brushing your skin like an intimate caress.

“isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

your resistance crumbles under the weight of his words. against your better judgment, your eyes meet his, truly meet them, for the first time tonight. you take him in, every detail. the dark flecks in his irises, the scattered moles you once traced with your fingertips, the way his hair falls a little longer now, grazing his lashes.

your heart slams against your ribs, a violent rhythm that feels too loud, too desperate. you swallow hard, unable to tear your gaze away as your eyes trail down, drinking him in like you’re parched and he’s the only thing that could ever quench you.

god, he hasn’t changed. not a bit. he still burns with that same maddening allure, that magnetic pull that sets your world ablaze. the fire he ignites in your stomach roars to life, an uncontrollable inferno that only he seems capable of sparking.

and that’s the most terrifying part of all.

you’ve tried to move on, tried to fill the void he left behind with someone kind, someone stable. but it was all in vain. every attempt to leave him behind had been futile. every lie you told yourself unraveled the moment you stepped back into his orbit.

because no matter how much you pretended, no matter how much you wanted to believe otherwise, some part of you—the most vulnerable, broken part—would always belong to him.

the silence between you is unbearable, charged with the kind of tension that tightens around your chest like a vice. his thumb lingers on your cheek, dragging slow circles as if savoring the tear he just wiped away. his gaze, dark and piercing, drinks in every crack in your composure, but there’s no softness in his eyes—only cold amusement.

“you’ve always been so predictable,” hyuck says, his voice as smooth and sharp as a blade. “throwing yourself at the things you know will ruin you. it’s almost pathetic, angel.”

your breath hitches, and his smirk deepens, smug and unrelenting as his hand drops to your throat again, holding you in place. his grip isn’t tight—yet—but the promise of his strength makes your knees tremble. you wish you could deny the power he has over you, but the truth is in the way your body responds to every word, every touch.

“maybe,” you manage to whisper, though your voice wavers under his scrutiny. “maybe i like the way it feels to fall.”

he lets out a low laugh, humorless and biting. “oh, i know you do. that’s why you’re here. why you always come crawling back.”

his hand slides down to your collarbone, then lower, the heat of his touch searing through your clothes. his eyes rake over you, slow and deliberate, like you’re nothing more than something to be dissected, picked apart piece by piece.

“you’re just so easy to break,” he continues, his lips curling into a smirk that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “always so eager to let me destroy you.”

your fingers twist into his shirt, your grip trembling as you try to ground yourself, but it only seems to fuel his cruel amusement. his free hand wraps around your wrist, pulling it free with a force that feels more like a warning than a rejection.

“look at you,” he says, tilting his head as if observing something trivial. “you don’t even try to hide how much you like this, do you?”

the sting of his words slices through you, but shame only tightens the knot of desire in your stomach. he knows it—sees it in the way your lips part, the way your chest rises and falls as you fight for composure, how you’re struggling to clench your thighs together.

“say it,” he demands, his grip tightening on your wrist as he yanks you closer, his voice a low growl in your ear. “admit it. admit that no one else can make you feel like this.”

you want to fight, to cling to some shred of dignity, but it’s useless. he’s already unraveled you, stripped you bare, and he knows it.

“i hate you,” you whisper, but even to your own ears, it sounds like a plea.

he barks out a laugh, sharp and mocking. “liar,” he spits, before his lips crash into yours.

the kiss is rough, bruising, a clear reminder of how little control you have. his hands are relentless, sliding over your body like he’s claiming you, like every inch of you belongs to him alone. and in this moment, it does.

the counter digs into your back as he presses you harder against it, his grip firm and unyielding. your fingers claw at his shoulders, desperate to find something to hold onto, but he doesn’t care. you’re nothing more than a toy in his hands, a distraction to pass the time.

when he finally pulls back, his eyes are cold, calculating as they search your face. he doesn’t need to say anything to remind you of your place—you see it in the smug curve of his lips, the way his gaze lingers like he’s already grown bored.

“see? that wasn’t so hard,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with condescension as his thumb brushes your bottom lip.

“you always give in eventually. it’s almost too easy.”

your chest heaves as you try to steady your breathing, your head spinning from the intensity of him.

to him, you’re nothing more than a game. a way to stroke his ego, to remind himself of the control he wields. and yet, despite knowing that, you still find yourself reaching for him, your fingers grazing his arm as if you can’t bear to let go.

hyuck chuckles, low and derisive, before shaking his head. “pathetic,” he says, the word cutting deep, but you don’t flinch.

because he’s right. And you hate how much you like it.

“hyuck—” your voice cracks, trailing off as your fingers clutch at the hem of his tank top again. the fabric is soft but stretched taut in your grip, an anchor in the storm of your own undoing. you tug him closer, your hands trembling, though whether it’s from desperation or shame, you can’t be sure.

“what?” he drawls lazily, his voice dripping with mockery. “what do you need from me, princess?”

the nickname isn’t affectionate. it’s laced with condescension, a sharp reminder of how thoroughly he has you wrapped around his finger. you can feel the weight of his gaze, studying you like a specimen caught under glass, a plaything meant only to amuse him.

and you hate yourself for the way it thrills you.

hyuck tilts his head slightly, feigning ignorance, though the smirk tugging at his lips betrays him. he knows why you’re here—of course he does. this is his game, after all. you’re just the piece he maneuvers however he pleases.

“come on,” he presses, his voice smooth and teasing, like a predator drawing out its prey. “you’ve got something to say, don’t you?”

your breath hitches, your chest rising and falling as you try to force words past the lump in your throat. but all you can manage is a shaky, “hyuck, please.”

his smirk widens, and the way his eyes gleam—dark, triumphant—makes your stomach churn with both desire and self-loathing. “please,” he echoes, as though the word tastes foreign on his tongue. “you’re so weak. you can’t even say what you want, can you?”

the sting of his words leaves you breathless, but it only tightens the knot of longing in your chest, and most importantly between your thighs. you’ve walked willingly into this trap, after all.

this is what he does—feeds on your vulnerability, siphons every ounce of emotion you have to give, leaving you hollow and craving more.

he closes the sliver of space between you, his shadow swallowing you whole. his eyebrow arches, the picture of bored indifference.

“you’re an adult,” he snaps, his tone sharp enough to cut. “start acting like one. if you want something, you better speak.“

your grip on his shirt tightens as you stare up at him, trembling under the weight of his presence. the cruel set of his jaw, the way he looks at you like you’re nothing more than a toy he hasn’t finished playing with—it shouldn’t excite you the way it does. but it does. god, it does.

you take another deep breath, trying to piece together a coherent thought, but your mind is a blur, your words caught somewhere between your heart and the tightening ache in your stomach. he’s watching you unravel, his gaze cold and calculating, like he’s already grown bored of this moment and is waiting for you to catch up.

“hyuck,” you whisper again, though it’s more of a whimper now, your voice trembling as you meet his eyes.

he chuckles, low and derisive, the sound reverberating through you like a pulse. “that’s it?” he taunts, his hand shooting out to grasp your wrist. his fingers curl around it firmly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you that you’re his for the taking.

“all that begging and you can’t even tell me what you want? what a waste of my time.”

his hand moves, gliding from your wrist to the base of your throat, his thumb resting just below your jaw. he tilts your chin up, forcing your gaze back to his, his smirk cruel and unwavering.

“let me guess,” he says, his tone mocking as his eyes trace over your face.

“you want me to ruin you, don’t you?” his voice slithers through the air, coiling around you like a noose.

your breath caught in your throat, chest rising and falling in uneven gasps as his eyes bore into you—dark, sharp, dissecting every inch of your trembling frame. the room felt impossibly small, the air heavy with the weight of his presence, thick and suffocating, like you were drowning in him.

“you want me to take every last shred of dignity you have,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin, “and destroy it.”

the words hung in the air, a challenge, a promise, a sentence. you felt the floor beneath you disappear, the groundlessness of your own desire swallowing you whole. the ache inside you was unbearable, raw and clawing, a hunger that could only be sated by him.

he tilted his head, watching the way you trembled, the way your lips parted without sound, as if your body couldn’t keep up with the hurricane of emotion ripping through you. his smirk deepened, cruel and predatory, as though he were feeding off the desperation radiating from you, drinking it in like nectar.

“do you see yourself?” he sneered, dragging the back of his knuckles down the curve of your jaw, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the way you leaned into his touch despite his words. “allit takes is a few words, and you’re already falling apart for me.”

your voice faltered, your throat tightening as shame and longing tangled into one insidious knot. he knew exactly what he was doing, dangling you on a string like some pitiful marionette, pulling at your every weakness with precision, unraveling you with his callous control.

you craved the way he broke you down, stripped you of everything you thought you were until all that remained was your raw, unfiltered need for him. it was dangerous, maddening, addictive. the fire in his eyes burned too brightly, and yet you leaned closer, knowing it would consume you.

“say it,” he pressed, his hand cupping your chin now, forcing your gaze upward to meet his. his grip was firm, unyielding, and the dominance in his stare made you feel as though he could see every fragile piece of you, exposed and laid bare.

“say you want me to ruin you.”

You swallowed hard, shuddering, your chest heaving as you try to steady yourself, but it’s no use. you’re already undone, every wall you’ve built crumbled to dust at his feet.

“i—” you start, but the words die on your tongue as his grip tightens slightly, just enough to make you gasp.

“speak, princess,” he sneers, his smirk widening. “if you can’t even do that, stop wasting what little patience i have left for you.”

the cruel dominance in his tone makes your head spin, your body betraying you as heat blooms in your core. you hate him. you hate how easily he breaks you, how effortlessly he pulls you apart. but more than that, you hate how much you need this. need him.

“i want- i want you to ruin me. love it,” you finally manage to choke out, your voice barely audible. tears prick at your eyes, but you don’t care. he’s already seen every ugly, vulnerable part of you. there’s nothing left to hide. “i love the way you ruin me.”

hyuck’s smirk sharpens, his satisfaction rolling off him in waves. “good girl,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your lips. “you’re learning.”

he tilts his head, his smirk curving into something sharp and predatory. His fingers trail down your jaw, the cool press of his rings sending shivers through you.

his touch is light, teasing, but there’s nothing tender about it. every motion feels calculated, designed to make you unravel just a little bit more.

“you’ll say anything I want, won’t you?” he murmurs, his voice low and condescending. “you’d do anything just to keep me interested. it’s disgusting.”

“you hate yourself for it, don’t you?” he continues, leaning in until his lips are just a breath away from your ear. “hate the way you keep coming back. like a moth to a flame. like you don’t know you’re going to get burned.”

you can’t answer, can’t even look at him. your head dips, but he catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing your gaze back to his. his eyes are dark, devoid of warmth, but the power they hold over you is suffocating.

“you think you’re special?” he asks, his tone almost amused. “that i actually care about you? that i lose a single second of sleep wondering if you’ll come back?”

“i know what you are,” he says, his voice soft but laced with venom. “you’re nothing without me. just a sad little thing, begging for scraps of attention.

“is that why you keep coming back, hmm? because no one else would put up with how pathetic you are?”

you flinch, the tears threatening to spill again, but his smirk only deepens, pleased with how easily he can manipulate your emotions. his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, tracing it slowly, almost mockingly.

“cry all you want,” he murmurs, leaning in just enough for his breath to ghost across your face. “it won’t change anything. you’ll still be here, won’t you? letting me do whatever i want. because you can’t help yourself.”

“hyuck,” you whisper, the sound of his name barely audible. your voice shakes, and you hate how desperate you sound, but the way his eyes glint with satisfaction tells you he loves it.

“what is it, angel?” he mocks, tilting his head as if he’s genuinely curious. “tell me what you want. use your words like a big girl.”

you bite down on your lip, struggling to force the words out. Your mind is a mess, every coherent thought drowned out by the sheer presence of him—overwhelming, suffocating, intoxicating.

“say it,” he demands again, his tone hardening as his hand drops to your throat, the pressure just enough to make you gasp.

“i want you,” you finally choke out, your voice breaking. “i want—”

he cuts you off with a laugh, sharp and cruel, as if the mere idea of you wanting him is a joke. “of course you do,” he says, his grip tightening slightly.

“you always want me. no matter how many times i push you away, no matter how many times I remind you that you’re nothing to me, you come crawling back. like a good little toy.”

you squeeze your eyes shut.

“open your eyes,” he commands, his tone cold and unwavering.

you hesitate, but his hand tightens around your throat, and your eyes snap open instantly. His face is so close now that you can see every detail—the sharp lines of his jaw, the faint shadow of stubble, the glint of malice in his eyes.

“good girl,” he says, the words dripping with mockery as his thumb brushes over your pulse. “you’re so easy to control. so desperate to be wanted, you’ll let me do whatever i want, won’t you?”

you nod, your breath hitching, and his smirk widens.

his other hand trails down your side, his touch firm and possessive. the room feels hotter now, the air thick with tension as he presses his body against yours, pinning you against the counter. his gaze never wavers, holding you captive as he takes in every crack in your resolve.

“you don’t even care that this is going to destroy you,” he murmurs, almost to himself, his smirk curling into something sharper, more dangerous. “you just want to feel something, don’t you? even if it ruins you.”

he’s right. you can’t deny it, can’t fight the truth in his words. no one else makes you feel this way—alive, raw, completely undone.

“my room. now.” his voice cuts through the charged air, sharp and commanding, leaving no room for hesitation.

he doesn’t bother sparing you another glance, already turning on his heel as if your compliance is a foregone conclusion. of course, it is.

you scramble to follow, nearly tripping over yourself in your rush to keep up with his lazy, unhurried strides. the disparity in your urgency and his indifference couldn’t be more stark, and it only serves to amplify the tight coil of tension in your chest.

there’s no warmth in the way he looks back at you—if he even bothers to look at all. he doesn’t need to. he knows you’ll follow, knows you’ll stumble through fire and glass just to stay close enough to bask in his shadow.

it’s dehumanising, and yet you can’t stop. you don’t want to stop.

your breath comes shallow and quick, anticipation crackling in the air around you like a live wire. the hallway feels endless, every heavy footfall echoing in the suffocating silence. it’s all-consuming, this quiet, and it does nothing to mask the way your heart hammers against your ribs or the way your palms tremble.

hyuck barely spares a thought for your clumsy attempts to keep pace, his hands shoved casually into the pockets of his sweatpants. if anything, he seems amused by how desperate you are to match his rhythm, your starry-eyed eagerness practically oozing from your every movement.

“you’re really just a pitiful thing, aren’t you,” he mutters under his breath, the words low and dismissive, but it hits you like a freight train nonetheless.

when he finally reaches the doorway to his room, he doesn’t pause. he pushes the door open with a careless shove, the motion so casual it’s as if he hasn’t already consumed every one of your thoughts, hasn’t already rendered you into this trembling, obedient shell of yourself.

he strides inside without looking back, leaving you lingering at the threshold for a heartbeat too long. the hesitation doesn’t go unnoticed.

“are you just going to stand there?” his voice is sharp, laced with irritation, as he glances back over his shoulder. The way his lips curl into a faint smirk is a silent dare. “or do you need me to drag you in, too?”

the air feels thinner now, harder to breathe, as you finally step inside. the door clicks shut behind you with an unnervingly loud finality.

“look at you,” he says, turning to face you fully now. His eyes rake over you, slow and deliberate, and it feels less like admiration and more like dissection. like he’s picking you apart piece by piece, savoring every crack in your composure.

“you can barely stand still,” he taunts, his tone thick with mockery.

“what’s got you so worked up, hmm? is it the way i talk to you? the way i remind you just how insignificant you are to me?”

your throat feels tight, your pulse hammering in your ears. but even now, even when he’s baring his cruelty so plainly, you can’t bring yourself to turn away.

hyuck takes a single step forward, the distance between you shrinking until there’s barely a breath of space left. his hand finds your chin again, his grip firm as he tilts your face up to meet his gaze.

“do you even realize how pitiful you look right now?” he murmurs, his smirk twisting into something sharper. “standing here, waiting for me to throw you a bone. it’s almost sad.”

almost. the word lingers, cruel and deliberate, reminding you that whatever scrap of validation he might offer will always come with a price.

but it doesn’t matter, not when his thumb brushes over your lip again, not when his presence feels so overwhelming that you can’t think straight. the shame, the desperation, the sheer exhilaration—it all blends together, until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.

his gaze darkens, his smirk never wavering as he leans in just enough for his breath to ghost over your lips.

“you love being treated like this. like a toy I can pick up and toss aside whenever i feel like it.”

“of course you do,” he says, answering his own question with a laugh that sends a shiver down your spine. “you wouldn’t keep coming back if you didn’t.”

he pulls back slightly, just enough to give you a moment to catch your breath, but the space he leaves feels suffocating in its own way. his hand doesn’t leave your chin, his thumb still resting against your skin as he watches you with a cruel sort of satisfaction.

“go on, then,” he says, his tone light but laced with command. “tell me how much you need me. how much you hate yourself for it.”

and you know he’s enjoying every second of this—the power, the control, the way you’re crumbling under his touch. because for all his apathy, for all his cold detachment, there’s nothing he loves more than watching you fall apart for him.

“i need you,” you whisper, voice trembling as your fingers clutch at his shirt. “please. i want you so badly—please, hyuck.”

the words tumble out of you like a confession, raw and unfiltered, and for a fleeting second, the weight of your own desperation threatens to crush you. but then his laughter cuts through the silence, low and mocking, and it draws your focus back to him.

he leans against the edge of his desk, arms crossed, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smirk as he takes you in. your tear-streaked cheeks, the way your chest heaves with shallow breaths, and that reverence in your eyes—it’s intoxicating. you look at him like he’s something divine, something worthy of worship, and he drinks it in like it’s his lifeblood.

“you’re a fucking mess,” he says finally, his voice laced with amusement. “crying, begging—do you know how stupid you look?”

his words are cruel, but his tone is almost light, as if this is all just a game to him. and maybe it is. you can’t be sure anymore, not when he tilts his head to the side and his dark eyes glint with unspoken intent.

“you really can’t help yourself, can you?” he muses, reaching out to swipe a thumb across the wet trail of a tear, his touch deliberate but devoid of any real tenderness.

“such a wretched little thing.”

his hand doesn’t linger, pulling back as quickly as it came, and the absence of his touch feels like a punishment in itself. you shift, uncertain, waiting for him to say something more, to give you some sign of what he’ll do next.

“you’re my stupid girl,” he says, his tone almost conversational, like he’s stating a simple fact. “aren’t you?”

his grip on your chin tightens, just enough to demand your response, and you nod weakly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“yes.”

his grin is wicked, devoid of anything remotely kind, and he lets go of your chin, stepping back just enough to make you feel the loss. he watches as you sway slightly, unmoored without his touch, and the satisfaction in his expression is unmistakable.

“good. on your back for me, pretty.”

the command, simple and sharp, slices through the tension thickening the room, and relief rushes through you like a flood. you obey instantly, scrambling toward the bed with a clumsy urgency that only feeds his amusement. propping yourself up on your elbows, you inch backward until your shoulders press into the edge of his bedframe, waiting for his next instruction.

hyuck takes his time, leisurely closing the space between you as his dark eyes sweep over your body. his tongue darts out, wetting his lips, and his gaze lingers shamelessly on the curve of your thighs, the hem of your skirt pushed just a little too high, the knee-high socks hugging your legs like they were made to tempt him.

“you’re such a sight,” he says, more to himself than to you, his voice low and edged with a cruel sort of amusement. “and all mine to play with.”

heat blooms across your skin under his scrutiny, but you stay perfectly still, holding your breath as though any sudden movement might break the fragile thread of attention binding you to him.

“you’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?” he steps closer, towering over you now, his shadow stretching across your trembling form. the corner of his mouth tilts into a smirk that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“take everything i give you without complaint, right?”

you nod frantically, lips parting to form a shaky affirmation, but he clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“words,” he reminds you coldly, his tone clipped. “you know i hate repeating myself angel.”

“yes, hyuck,” you blurt, voice barely above a whisper. “i’ll be good. i’ll take it all.”

satisfaction flickers across his face for a fleeting moment before he leans down, pressing his palms into the mattress on either side of your head. his proximity sends a shiver rippling through you, his scent—clean, sharp, and intoxicating—wrapping around you like a noose.

“no tapping out until i say i’m done.”

the warning in his voice is as sharp as the glint in his eyes, and the way he says it leaves no room for negotiation.

it’s not a question, it’s a sentence, handed down by the man who holds all the power in the room, and you know better than to argue.

“yes,” you whisper, though your voice trembles. “yes, hyuck.”

hyuck doesn’t rush. he takes his time watching you squirm, his fingers tugging at the edge of your skirt as he basks in the control he wields so effortlessly. the corner of his mouth twitches, his smirk deepening as his eyes lock on yours.

his hand reaches out, brushing against the side of your face, his touch deceptively soft as he tilts your chin up.

they trail lower, down further until he stops at your thigh, tapping it once, then twice, watching your face for any reactions.

you try your hardest to stay still, taking heed of his earlier words, knowing that any time you showed your impatience or tried to take the lead would only make things worse.

leaning down, he places a soft kiss on your stomach, before placing several more down the expense of your thighs. it’s torture, having him so close to where you wanted him to be, yet still too far.

“you’re getting better at being patient for me, aren’t you angel?”

you nod, sucking in a harsh gasp as he uses his middle finger to pull at the hem of your panties, as he slowly slid them down till they stopped mid thigh.

stupidly, your cheeks heat up as you feel embarrassed as the way hyuck’s gaze rakes over your bare skin, hungry even, as he positions himself between you, your legs encompassing his broader frame.

without warning he plunged a finger inside of you, not caring to take off his rings because he knew you liked it like that, the edge of the metals soothing your burning cunt.

you cried out his name, fingers clutching the sheets as a way to anchor yourself against donghyuck’s viscous attacks. the spontaneous addition of his tongue only intensified your pleasure, and he worked hard to make sure your body stayed planted on his mattress.

the truth was, sungchan was too soft when it came to having sex with you. he was always too concerned with not hurting you, taking things excruciatingly slow as he constantly checked up on you, asking if you were okay, pressing soft kisses all over your body.

he was the complete opposite to hyuck who so violently used your body like it was nothing more than a ragdoll to him, bending and moulding you to his liking, throwing you around and treating you like nothing.

even now, you shudder as he adds another finger licking and sucking on your cunt as if starved, making your toes curl and your fingers card through his hair.

it’s embarrassing how fast you feel yourself approach the edge, the tell tale sales making themself more apparent as you moan pathetically, your senses on overdrive.

“you wanna cum?”

“please —fuck— please please please. i’ve —shit — been such a good, such a good girl.”

“good girls don’t fuck their exes while their boyfriends wait at home. you’re not a good girl, you’re a cock drunk whore,” you clench around his fingers at his harsh words, another pathetic moan escaping your lips.

“yours—shit— your whore.”

the grin that breaks out in hyuck’s face is so wide yet so delicious as he adds a third finger, your whines only spurring him on as he uses his thumb to trace circles on your clit.

one particular thrust has your head thrown back against the pillows, your hands instinctively reaching out to his wrist, the pleasure becoming unbearable.

“that’s the spot, isn’t it baby?”

“oh hyuck– fuck it feels so so good.”

you’re incoherent, the only thing on your mind is chasing the delicious orgasm burning in your lower stomach. thoughts of sungchan have been pushed so far back in your mind, your own selfish release tainting you.

“yes– yes– yes,” you’re chanting, your words slurring as you buck your hips to the pace of hyuck’s feelings that piston in and out of your dripping core, legs already shaking uncontrollably until you scream out his name, gushing all over his fingers as your thighs trap his hand.

“look at all this mess you made slut,” he doesn’t seem to care much about your sensitivity of having just orgasmed, collecting your juices with his fingers, spreading them all around your lower body, as if he were painting on a canvas.

“i’m not even close to being done with you,” he tells you once he’s done, tugging his shirt off with one hand, hastily reaching for the drawstring of his sweatpants as he discards of them somewhere near the foot of his bed.

It had only been two weeks since hyuck had last been inside you, but staring at the heavy bulge protruding through his boxers, you knew the stretch would burn all the same.

as he grabs a hold of your ankles in his hands, you can’t help the eagerness spread so obviously on your feautures- biting down on your lip as you look up at him through your eyelashes.

like a habit your hands hold onto his thighs, your eyes trained on his cock as he holds the base of it, so dangerously close to your welcoming, wet pussy.

as much as he ridiculed you—mocked you for being the desperate little thing you were, so consumed by lust and your filthy cravings that you discarded every shred of dignity—there was a flicker of something untamed beneath his carefully crafted exterior.

hyuck prided himself on being detached, the puppet master pulling your strings for his amusement, but even he couldn’t entirely deny the rush that coursed through him as he looked down at you now. the sight of you, flushed and trembling, your ruin written all over your tear-streaked face, did something to him. something primal.

you were his creation. his masterpiece. every tremor in your limbs, every shaky breath, every ounce of humiliation and need—you wore it like a brand, and he was the one who burned it into you.

and that knowledge? it fed something dark inside him, a satisfaction so raw it was almost animalistic.

be tilted his head, the smirk on his lips widening as his eyes roamed over you again, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every second.

“look at you,” he drawled, voice dripping with derision. “you don’t even know how filthy you look right now, do you?”

your lips parted to respond, but no sound came out, just a shaky exhale that betrayed every effort to keep yourself composed.

he chuckled, low and cold, the sound curling around you like a chain and you feel a shudder wracking through you at his words.

“that’s right,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, his smirk twisting into something cruel. “you’re mine. no grace, no dignity, no self-respect—just a pretty little mess for me to destroy over and over again.”

“you ready for me princess?”

you nod, heart leaping out of your chest in anticipation, throbbing as the tip taps on your clit twice.

as he pushes in you can’t help but screw your eyes close, the feeling euphoric as he sinks in. your legs automatically come around his waist and his hands reach up to cup your breast, squeezing them between his palms, his thumb rubbing over your sensitive bud.

but he knows how you really like it, and so both hands dance up your body till they stop at your neck. he squeezes, hard enough at first to knock the wind out of you, delighting in the way your moans now come out in breathless squeals as he drives himself impossibly deeper into you.

He reached out, fingers grazing your jawline before gripping your chin, forcing your head up until you had no choice but to meet his gaze. His touch was firm but cold, an unyielding reminder of who held all the power here.

“i could tell you to walk out that door right now,” he said, his thumb brushing over your trembling bottom lip, “and we both know you wouldn’t make it five steps. you’d be back before you even reached the elevator.”

you whimpered, the sound pitiful, but it only made his grin widen, his amusement at your weakness as sharp as a blade, revelling in the way you were falling undone on his cock.

“say it,” he demanded, voice low and commanding. “tell me why you’re here. why you keep sneaking off from your boyfriend.”

“b-because i— fuck” you stammered, your words catching in your throat as tears pricked at your eyes again, feeling him so deep inside of you that you were sure he would leave a mark, the tip kissing your cervix so deliciously.

“because you need me,” he finished for you, his tone dripping with mockery. “say it, angel. i want to hear you admit it.”

your breath hitched, shame warring with the unbearable heat pooling in your stomach and the way he lifts your legs and lazily throws them over your shoulders.

“i- i need, i need you,” you whispered, the words so soft they barely reached your own ears, any morsel of strength dissipating.

“of course you do,” he murmured, the satisfaction in his voice undeniable. “you need me to tell you what to do. yo remind you what you are.”

“he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as his hand slid lower, skimming the edge of your waist as his nails dug into the plump flesh, eliciting a hiss from your lips at the cocktail of pleasure and pain.

“a toy,” he continued, his voice a velvet whip. “something for me to use when i’m bored. isn’t that right?”

you swallowed hard, tears slipping down your cheeks as the last vestiges of your pride crumbled beneath his words.

“yes,” you choked out, your voice raw and broken.

“i’m your stupid toy. stupid slut, stupid toy,” your words are garbled, hardly making sense as he kisses up your neck, feeling dizzy as his hair tickled your skin, the sweet smell of his cologne mixed with sweat invading your senses.

he pulled back just enough to look at you again, his eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction.

“sweet angel,” he said, the praise cutting as it was rewarding. his thumb swiped at a stray tear, his smirk softening into something even more chilling.

“now let’s see if you’re as obedient as you claim to be.”

the night stretched painfully as hyuck pulled orgasm after orgasm out of you, cruelly making you keep score, and rewarding you with a harsh slap to the cheek if you were wrong.

you were writhing in his hold, your hands feebly pushing against his pelvis as you reached the climax yet again, swallowing shallowly as you will yourself to manually breathe.

“good slut, there you go. how many was that?” he makes no effort to stop to help you catch your breath and your eyes gloss over, and your mouth lolls open, the feeling of being filled so well too much for your brain to handle.

a stinging pain accompanies your right cheek as punishment for not answering hyuck’s previous question and he flips you over on your stomach, plunging into you without warning.

“dumb sluts so fucked out she can’t even use her fucking mouth,” he enunciates every word with each thrust, your thighs quivering as you bury your head into the sheets.

you had no more intelligible answers to any of hyuck’s words, brain turned to mush as the sound of skin slapping together becomes overbearing.

“too – fuck – too much – can’t– fuck please hyuck,” you whine, tears spilling from your eyes as you try to find strength to speak.

“what was that? you want more’” he’s cruel in the way he lifts you up by your neck till your body is plush against his own, the new angle only making your eyes roll back even further.

“i don’t give a fuck about how you feel. i’ll be finished when i decide i’m done with you, so be a good cum slut and take it all.”

he presses a kiss to your temple before releasing his hold on you, fucking you further into the mattress, your whole body quivering as your face screws tight.

it feels like you could snap at any moment, your body so frail and limp, as the only thing that keeps you from collapsing in a heap on hyuck’s bed is the firm grip he has on your hips.

“fuck.. pussy’s sucking me in so deep, it’s practically made for me,” he groans, the restraint he had been practicing for the last half hour withering, his face screwing at the feeling of your walls hugging his cock unbearably tight, like it didn’t want to let go.

he wanted to push you even further, to keep going until you teetered on the edge of life and death, but he knew he couldn’t last much longer.

he lifts one of your legs up, jackhammering into you with as much force as he could gather, using his strength to keep you in place as he continued to fuck into you.

“fucking take it, useless slut. that’s all you’re good for,” his chest rises and falls, dick twitching at the sight of your head cocked to the side, eyes glimmering from all of your tears as you try to push him away, your body seizing.

“move that fucking hand and take it,” he swats your hand away with ease, deepening your arch as you let out a sharp gasp before your body is convulsing again, your fourth orgasm of the night washing over you with such intensity that hyuck had to hold you up by the waist to stop you from collapsing.

it was hard to keep you in one place as he fucked you through your orgasm, but he’s bigger and stronger than you as he tightens his grip on your body, racing towards his own release.

“gonna fill your pussy till it’s dripping down your thighs. hope that – shit – hope your fucking boyfriend finds out how much of a whore you are.”

his thrusts get choppier as he loses himself to the feral urge to fill you up, to paint your insides pearly white and let the world know who had the ability to ruin you like this.

“yes please – need it – need it please – need it so bad,” a heavy groan rips through donghyuck at your words, thrusting into you a couple more times, pushing himself impossibly deeper inside of you as he pours hot spurts of cum inside of you, overstimulating himself so that it reaches deep before he lets go of you as you fall into a heap on his sheets.

the room felt oppressively quiet now, save for the sound of donghyuck’s soft footsteps as he moved away from the bed. he didn’t look at you, didn’t speak. his attention was already somewhere else, his movements casual, indifferent, like nothing had just happened.

you lay there, sprawled across his sheets, the aftermath of it all still clinging to your skin. your chest heaved as you tried to steady your breathing, but the hollowness in the pit of your stomach made it impossible to feel grounded.

you turned your head, watching as he crossed the room without a backward glance, already flipping the power button on his game console, simply throwing a towel in your direction with an infuriating amount of carelessness.

the screen illuminated the corner of the dark room, and you could hear the familiar chime of the startup music as he slid onto the chair, controller in hand, as though this was just another ordinary evening for him.

for you, though, the silence pressed down harder. the ache in your chest began to mingle with something sharper, something you were too scared to name.

your phone buzzed from the nightstand beside you, pulling you out of your haze. the sound felt jarring in the stillness. turning your head, you reached for it with trembling fingers, watching the screen light up, and the name at the top of the message.

sungchan.

i miss you. let me know when you’re home safe, okay?

the words reverberated in your chest, soft and full of kindness, the exact opposite of everything donghyuck was.

sungchan was stable, predictable, safe—the type of person who held doors open and kissed you goodnight like it was second nature. but here you were, sprawled out in another man’s bed, the ghost of his hands still lingering on your skin.

you turned your head toward donghyuck, searching for something in him. something human. something that might tether you to the idea that this meant more than it did. but there was nothing—not even a flicker of acknowledgment as he barked a low curse at his game, his focus unwavering.

and yet, despite his cruelty, despite the hollowness he left in his wake, you felt yourself drawn to him like a moth to a flame. it wasn’t love, and it wasn’t even lust—it was the gravitational pull of your own self-destruction.

the bed creaked as you sat up, the cool air biting against your bare skin. your phone buzzed again, its screen lighting up the darkened room. sungchan’s name flashed across it once more, and the guilt twisted like a knife in your chest.

this was wrong.

you knew it was wrong.

but as much as you wanted to gather your things, to walk out of this apartment and leave donghyuck behind for good, you knew you wouldn’t.

“you’re thinking too loud,” donghyuck muttered, his voice cold and detached as his fingers moved deftly over the controller. he didn’t even look at you.

“i should go,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

this time, he glanced over his shoulder, raising a brow in mock amusement. “then go,” he said simply, his tone devoid of care, as if your presence—or absence—meant nothing to him.

your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill again. you gripped the edge of the sheets, your knuckles white, your mind warring with itself. every rational part of you screamed to leave, to call sungchan, to beg for forgiveness.

but the irrational part of you—the part that craved donghyuck’s indifference, his cruelty, the way he stripped you down to your rawest form—kept you rooted in place. because for all the emptiness he left behind, donghyuck made you feel something.

the shame, the desire, the heartbreak—it was all consuming, chaotic, alive. and as much as it hurt, it was better than the numbness you felt everywhere else.

your phone buzzed again, the sound cutting through the air like a razor. sungchan was waiting. he always was. and yet, you turned your gaze back to donghyuck, who had already dismissed you, his attention back on his game.

you would stay.

you always stayed.

and as you sank back into the mattress, staring up at the ceiling with tears pooling in your eyes, the frailty of your willpower sank in like a stone. you hated yourself for it, hated how weak you were, hated how easily he broke you.

but deep down, you knew you’d come back again.

you always did.

[running-on-coffee-and-anxiety]

Know what? I'm gonna try throwing my hat into the ring for Danny Phantom.

I accidentally electrocuted myself as a kid and never told anybody- nothing serious, I grabbed the three exposed prongs of a half plugged in laptop charger in the middle of the night and didn't want to get in trouble since nobody else was awake. Even if it isn't fatal, it's terrifying and your vision completely blacks out and your arm tingles for days afterwards, and for the whole day after you got shocked your fingers on the hand that grabbed the prongs will randomly twitch, open or close or jerk to the side. You have no control, it's like when the doctor hits your knee to check your reflexes.

Now, from what I can tell from the scene where Danny went ghost for the first time, he really was electrocuted. From what I can tell, his ghost and human halves seem kinda separate- not completely, but the change is there. Where is this going?

Danny never told anyone about the accident- not anybody that could help him, anyways. I propose that, since he never got medical treatment or physical/occupational therapy after the accident, his motor function deteriorates over time.

More specifically, his small motor function is effected- I will be using personal experience in this section, since my small motor skills were so bad I couldn't use zippers or tie my shoes until I was 12, but I'll try putting things in reverse.

Danny starts fumbling with tying his shoes, laughing it off as being tired. Buttons take a few minuets, and even snap buttons become a bit hard. Odd, mildly confusing, but nothing to be concerned about. Then it progresses. He can't properly use tools anymore, it's like nothing is ever precise enough, everything takes a few tries to get it right. His fingers are fumbling everything, his handwriting turns to chickenscratch that not even he can read at times, he struggles to comb his hair because it's hard to coordinate movements, his back teeth are always textured because he struggles to brush his teeth and he can't really reach the back ones properly anymore.

I don't know if this is connected to small motor or not, but he starts dragging his feet and the toes of his shoes wear out quicker because walking while lifting his feet any higher doesn't feel right. This was something I had fixed during occupational therapy, but I don't know if it was just me or not.

Eventually, it becomes sunlight-on-clean-pact-snow levels of blindingly obvious that something is incredibly wrong. Danny's hair is knotted and half-matted because he is unable to brush it properly, when he smiles there is plaque on some parts of his teeth and not others, he always wears slip-on shoes or his laced shoes are always untied, buttons always seem like they could unslip because they're only half-buttoned, zippers in his jackets getting stuck in shirts and he doesn't bother to fix it, teachers can no longer read his assignments and his friends can't read his notes. Nobody can ignore it, but nobody knows how to help when Danny gets so clearly frustrated when he has to do something with his hands and it just doesn't work. It seems like he suddenly developed a hole in his lip, since he always had to lean far over his bowl or plate to not end up on food with his shirt because his hands can't hold silverware steady.

But Phantom? None of those issues. He became a ghost after being electrocuted, of course. Why would there be damage from the initial creation of this half? It could be why he ends up enjoying fighting the ghosts, his hands actually work with him instead of against him.

Feel free to take this idea and do what you want with it, I really liked writing this!

Also if you use this for a fic, please comment the link if possible, I wanna see all the ways people use this :)

Edit: So I started a mini-series about this. Is it any good? Probably not, but writing makes me happy.

Noticed But Hoping For The Best

[theonottsbxtch]

HEAR ME OUT 🙂 charles x pianist!reader where he’s like writing/composing a new ep and his producer is like “omg you should totally do a duet with (reader) 🥰” and uh yeah just anything related to that

i can already envision a scene where charles spends most of his time in the dark alone in the studio with his piano but reader is ofc there…

go for any trope you want 🙈

MY MUSE | CL16

an: im sorry this is so long istart writing and then i can't stop. btw i want everyone to know that i was listening to that's not me by skepta and jme while writing this. completely different vibes. SEND MORE REQUESTS IM BORED HOUSESITTING FOR THREE WEEKS

wc: 7.8k

dedicated to @iamred-iamyellow & @iimplicitt

The studio was thick with the scent of aged leather and dust, the faint glow of a single, dimmed lamp casting long shadows across the hardwood floors. Charles sat hunched over the grand piano, its black lacquer surface reflecting the soft light in fractured shards. His fingers hovered above the ivory keys, trembling with a kind of frustrated anticipation, but no sound came. The room seemed to echo with a deafening silence, broken only by the faint ticking of the clock on the far wall—an incessant reminder of time slipping away.

He had been here for days, isolated from the outside world during the off season. The once-comforting walls, lined with shelves of dog-eared books and musical scores, now felt like the confines of a cage. His last piece had been a masterpiece—a soaring composition that had flowed from him like water, effortless and pure. It was the kind of music that haunted you long after it ended, the kind that etched itself into the soul of anyone who heard it. But now, the notes eluded him.

Charles ran his fingers through his dark, curly hair and let out a low sigh. There was a pressure building in his chest, like a wound slowly tightening, pulling him apart. For the past week, he had been locked in this room, trying to capture the essence of something even greater than the last, but all he had managed to conjure was noise—fragments of half-formed melodies that crumbled before they could take shape.

He  stood abruptly, the sudden movement causing the papers on top of his piano to rustle, brittle with neglect. The room was stifling; the air was thick with the remnants of burnt-out candles and sleepless nights. He paced to the window, pulling the curtains aside to reveal the darkened Maranello streets below, slick with the remnants of a recent rain. The city outside moved on, indifferent to his struggle, its distant hum a reminder that time had no patience for his creative paralysis.

He pressed his forehead against the cold glass, his breath fogging it up in shallow bursts. What was missing? What had he lost in the months since his last piece? It felt like chasing shadows, reaching for something just out of grasp. Every melody he tried to shape slipped through his fingers like grains of sand, and the harder he tried to hold onto it, the faster it dissolved.

The clock struck three in the morning, the chime echoing through the stillness of the room. Another night wasted. Another night consumed by the weight of his own expectations. He turned back to the piano, his eyes heavy with fatigue but burning with a quiet, desperate need. He couldn’t leave. Not yet. Not without something to show for the hours he’d lost.

With a sigh that felt like surrender, Charles sat back down at the piano, his fingers hovering over the keys once more. He could feel the cold beneath his skin, the way the silence seemed to press in around him. His hands shook, not with nervousness, but with exhaustion.

And then, in the quiet, a single note broke the silence.

It wasn’t beautiful. It wasn’t the haunting, ethereal sound he had been searching for. But it was something.

His gaze fell to the pile of sheet music he had scribbled on throughout the night. Inked lines of failed ideas, crossed out again and again. With a final resigned sigh, he stood up, the bench scraping the floor, the sound too loud in the empty space. He began to gather his things, shoving crumpled papers into his bag alongside notebooks, headphones, and his laptop. The familiar weight of them didn’t bring comfort; instead, they felt like reminders of the failure he was starting to carry with him. This was meant to be a hobby but it was haunting his every move.

As he turned to leave, keys jangling in his hand, a soft sound reached his ears—a distant, faint melody. He paused, his hand hovering over the light switch, ears straining to catch it. It was coming from down the hallway, barely perceptible at first, but unmistakable—a piano, its notes drifting through the quiet night like a whisper.

Charles hesitated for a moment, then slipped into the hallway, drawn toward the sound. He moved slowly, the dark corridor seeming endless, the music growing clearer with every step. It was beautiful—achingly so. Each note was delicate yet certain, as though whoever was playing knew exactly what they wanted to say. The melody swirled and climbed, creating something ethereal, something that made his chest tighten in a way he hadn’t felt in weeks.

He stopped outside one of the smaller practice rooms, the door slightly ajar, a soft glow of light spilling from within. The music filled the narrow hallway, surrounding him, pulling him in. He stood there for a long moment, his heart beating a little faster, a strange mix of awe and envy twisting inside him. This was what he had been trying to create—the same kind of raw emotion, the beauty that lingered long after the sound faded.

But it wasn’t his.

Charles leaned against the wall, just out of sight, listening as the music flowed through the cracks in the door. The player inside didn’t falter, didn’t stop to wrestle with the notes. It was effortless, pure. He didn’t dare move, didn’t dare interrupt, afraid the spell would be broken if the other person realised they had an audience.

The melody soared, and for a brief moment, Charles closed his eyes, letting himself be swept up in it. It reminded him of why he had started this in the first place—of the nights when music had been his refuge, when it had felt like an escape, not a burden. He could feel the heaviness in his chest easing, just slightly, as the music wound its way through the silence.

But as beautiful as it was, it also stung. Whoever was playing had found what he had been searching for all this time—something he had lost.

The music came to a soft, gentle end, the final notes lingering in the air like a breath held too long. Charles stood there for a moment longer, still leaning against the doorframe, waiting for something—he didn’t know what.

When the quiet finally settled again, he stepped away from the door, not daring to break the fragile stillness with the creak of the floorboards. He glanced back one last time, his fingers curling tight around the strap of his bag. For a moment, he considered knocking, stepping inside to see the person who had played with such grace. But something held him back.

Instead, he turned and walked down the hallway, the echo of that haunting melody still playing in his head long after the door to the studio clicked shut behind him.

His following morning came in fragments—a bleary haze of sunlight filtering through half-closed blinds, the distant hum of traffic muffled by the walls of his apartment. Charles stirred, his body sluggish and heavy with the weight of too little sleep. He lay there for a long moment, eyes closed, trying to hold onto the remnants of the dream he couldn’t quite remember. But it wasn’t a dream that lingered in his mind.

It was the melody.

That same haunting, angelic piano from last night, curling through his thoughts like a whisper. He could still hear it—those delicate notes weaving together, the way the melody had seemed so effortless, so perfect. It had been circling his mind from the moment he left the studio. Now, it played softly in the background of his thoughts, no matter how hard he tried to push it away.

Charles groaned, rolling out of bed and dragging himself into the shower. The hot water did little to shake the fatigue that clung to him, nor did it drown out the persistent tune echoing in his head. His mind kept returning to the small, dimly lit room where the mystery pianist had been, to the way her fingers had danced across the keys as though they had always belonged there.

He towel-dried his hair, staring at his reflection in the foggy mirror. Dark circles under his eyes, a face hollowed by days of restless nights and creative frustration. He had some sort of media training today—something important. A meeting he couldn’t afford to drift through half-awake. But even as he dressed, pulling on his usual team shirt and straightening the collar, his thoughts were elsewhere.

The city outside was awake, the streets buzzing with life as he made his way through the crisp morning air to the Ferrari HQ. His coffee sat untouched in his hand, the steam rising in lazy spirals, but he barely noticed. The melody from last night played on an endless loop in his head, the memory of it clinging to him like a ghost he couldn’t shake.

The office was a blur of familiar faces, bright smiles, and too much energy for this early in the day. Charles moved through it all, barely fully acknowledging Carlos, the world around him dull and muffled. The media manager was already waiting when he arrived, tapping impatiently on the table as Charles sat down for their first meeting.

But even as they discussed plans, upcoming shoots, and expectations for both his and Carlos’ media presence, Charles wasn’t fully there. He nodded in the right places, offered half-hearted responses, but his mind kept wandering back to that melody. The notes haunted him, pulling his focus away from everything else, as though they held the answer to something he was desperate to grasp.

“Charles, are you listening?” Carlos’ voice snapped him back to the present.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, though his eyes betrayed him. He scribbled something on the notepad in front of him, though the lines didn’t form words—just scattered shapes, like the music notes he couldn’t get out of his head.

The meetings dragged on. Through every discussion, every pitch and presentation, Charles felt the same distraction pulling him away. He couldn’t let it go. The melody. It had stirred something in him—a frustration, yes, but also a strange kind of inspiration. There was something there, something unfinished, and it gnawed at him.

By the time the last meeting ended, Charles felt hollowed out. He hadn’t contributed anything meaningful to the discussions, not really. His mind had been elsewhere the entire day, replaying those fleeting notes over and over again. It was maddening.

He needed to know. Needed to find out who had played it, and why that music—the music he hadn’t written—felt so much like it belonged to him.

Without thinking, Charles pulled out his phone and dialled his producer’s number, pacing back and forth in the hallway outside the conference room as it rang. It was late afternoon now, the sky outside tinged with fading light. He knew he should be focusing on his own work, or on getting back to the studio, but the compulsion to solve this mystery was stronger than his exhaustion.

The line clicked, and his producer’s voice crackled on the other end. “Charles, hey. What’s up?”

Charles leaned against the window, his forehead pressed to the cool glass. “I need to ask you something,” he said, his voice low, edged with impatience. “Last night, around 3 a.m., there was someone in one of the smaller studios, playing piano. Do you know who it was?”

There was a pause on the other end, the faint sound of papers shuffling. “3 a.m.? You sure?”

“I’m sure,” Charles replied, closing his eyes. The melody drifted back into his mind, as clear as if he were still sitting outside the door, listening. “It was… incredible. I couldn’t stop listening. I need to know who it was.”

Another pause, then a small chuckle from his producer. “Ah, that must’ve been the student. Yeah, she’s been coming in late at night to practise. Studies music at the university downtown. Doesn’t perform much, though—mostly keeps to herself.”

Charles’s heart skipped a beat. The name felt unfamiliar, but it already held a weight to it, like it was connected to something he hadn’t yet fully understood.

“She doesn’t perform?” he asked, brow furrowing. It seemed impossible—someone with that much talent, hiding in the shadows.

“Nah,” his producer continued, “she’s a bit under the radar. Not really into publishing or performing her work, but, man, she’s got something special. I didn’t realise you’d heard her.”

Charles was silent for a moment, processing the information. The melody. He could see it now—something just out of reach, like the missing piece of a puzzle he hadn’t realised he was trying to solve.

“You know,” his producer said, his tone shifting slightly, “you’ve been stuck for a while, Charles. Maybe you should try working with her. See what happens. It might help you find what you’re looking for.”

Charles swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. The thought of it—composing with someone else, with her—made something stir inside him. Could it be the answer to breaking through this creative silence he’d been drowning in?

“I’ll think about it,” he muttered, though the decision was already forming in his mind.

As he hung up the phone, the melody returned, softer this time, but still persistent. And now, it wasn’t just haunting him—it was pulling him forward.

_________________

The studio felt different tonight, as though it had shifted in his absence. The air was cooler, the lights dimmer, casting long, quiet shadows over the floorboards. Charles stood in the hallway again, just as he had the night before, but this time his heart beat with something more than exhaustion or frustration. There was an anticipation simmering in his chest, a tension just beneath the surface.

He hadn’t come to compose tonight. Not really. He had come for the music. Her music.

The name felt strange on his lips, unfamiliar, yet full of significance. He didn’t know her, had never spoken to her, but her music had already gotten under his skin. It haunted him still, drifting through his mind in fragments even after the long day of meetings, pulling him back here.

He moved quietly down the hallway, the same path he had taken last night, his shoes barely making a sound against the worn floor. As he neared the smaller practice room, the faint sound of the piano floated toward him, delicate and clear, weaving through the quiet.

There it was again—the same effortless, angelic melody that had captivated him before. But now, listening to it a second time, Charles felt something deeper stirring. The way she played was different tonight, more intimate somehow, as if the music had softened, becoming something even more personal. He stopped outside the door, just as he had before, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes.

For a long moment, he simply listened. The notes seemed to dance in the air, spinning and intertwining, building toward something both beautiful and fragile. It was mesmerising.

But then, the music stopped. Abruptly.

Charles’s eyes snapped open, his pulse quickening in the sudden silence. Before he could move, a voice broke through the quiet, soft but teasing.

“Mama always said it’s not nice to lurk.”

His breath caught in his throat. For a second, he didn’t move, caught off guard. The door was still ajar, the light spilling into the hallway, and from inside, he could make out the silhouette of someone sitting at the piano, her back turned to him. She hadn’t looked up, but she knew. She had known he was there the whole time.

Heat crept up his neck, but before he could stammer out an apology, she spoke again.

“You coming in, or are you planning to stay out there all night?”

Her tone was light, amused even, but it was an invitation all the same. Charles hesitated for a heartbeat longer, his hand tightening around the strap of his bag. Then, without thinking, he stepped forward, pushing the door open a little wider.

The room was small and softly lit, just as he remembered, the grand piano dominating the space. She sat at it, her posture relaxed, fingers still resting lightly on the keys. She turned her head slightly as he entered, giving him the faintest glimpse of a smile.

“Sorry,” he said quietly, feeling a bit ridiculous for standing outside like that. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t.” She shifted on the bench, making space beside her. “Come on, sit.”

Charles’s throat tightened, but he nodded and moved toward the piano, his steps feeling oddly tentative. He hesitated for a second when he reached her, unsure if he should really be sitting so close. The bench was narrow, and he could already feel the warmth of her presence.

She looked up at him with raised eyebrows. “I don’t bite.”

With a small chuckle, he slid onto the stool beside her, the space between them barely a few inches. It was strange, this closeness—to sit here with someone he didn’t know, yet felt connected to through the music that had haunted him for days. Their shoulders brushed lightly as he settled in, and for a moment, the silence between them felt heavy, loaded with expectation.

She glanced at him, her eyes glinting with something unreadable. Then, without a word, she placed her hands back on the piano, her fingers moving over the keys with an effortless grace. The melody returned, soft and slow, and Charles felt his breath catch in his chest again. It was different this time—gentler, more deliberate, as though she was playing just for him.

The room seemed to shrink around them, the air thick with the quiet intimacy of the music. He watched her hands move, the way her fingers danced across the keys with the kind of fluidity that only came from years of dedication. The melody wound its way through the air, filling the small space between them, and Charles found himself leaning in, just slightly, drawn to the sound and to her.

“You play like it’s the easiest thing in the world,” he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

She smiled, a soft, almost secretive smile. “It’s never easy,” she said, her voice low, her eyes still on the piano. “It just looks that way.”

She played a few more notes, then paused, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “What about you? You’ve been in the studio night after night. What’s haunting you?”

Charles let out a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding. “I’ve been stuck,” he admitted, his voice quieter than he intended. “It feels like everything I try to create falls apart. Nothing compares to what I’ve done before.”

She didn’t respond right away. Instead, she played another soft chord, the sound hanging in the air between them.

“Music’s strange like that,” she said after a moment, her tone thoughtful. “It comes and goes. Sometimes it’s easy, other times… it slips through your fingers.”

Charles nodded, feeling the weight of her words. He had been trying so hard to force the music out, to create something that could match his last piece, but all it had done was elude him.

The girl beside him shifted slightly, her shoulder brushing his. “Here,” she said, moving her hands off the keys. “Play something.”

“What?”

“Anything,” she replied, her eyes meeting his for the first time fully. There was a challenge in them, but also an understanding. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Charles swallowed, feeling a sudden surge of nerves. But her gaze was steady, encouraging, and without thinking too much about it, he let his hands find their way to the keys. The notes that came out weren’t perfect—they were hesitant, half-formed. But they were honest. He played softly, the melody faltering at times, but it was real.

She listened, her head slightly tilted as she watched his fingers move. Then, without warning, she joined him, her hands moving gracefully beside his, adding harmonies to the melody he had started. The sound shifted, growing fuller, more complete. The music filled the room, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Charles didn’t feel the weight of his failure pressing down on him.

Together, they played, their hands moving across the keys in tandem, creating something new. Something neither of them could have done alone.

When the last note finally faded into the quiet, Charles sat back, his heart pounding. She turned to him, her eyes soft and knowing.

“See?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s easier when you’re not alone.”

For a moment, they sat in the quiet, the echo of their shared melody lingering in the air like the last breath of a long-forgotten song. Charles stared at the keys, feeling the warmth of the music still buzzing in his fingertips. He hadn’t felt like this in weeks—maybe longer. There was something about the way she played, the way her music had melded so effortlessly with his, that made the creative block he’d been wrestling with seem almost insignificant.

He turned to look at her, realising for the first time how close they were, their shoulders still brushing lightly. Her eyes were fixed on the piano, her fingers resting gently on the keys, as though she was waiting for the next melody to arrive. Her presence, though quiet and composed, carried an intensity that matched the music she played—an unspoken understanding of the way music could consume you, take you apart, and put you back together.

“That was…” Charles began, but the words caught in his throat.

“Different?” she offered, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Yeah.” He let out another breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. “It felt… easier. Like it wasn’t something I had to force.”

She tilted her head slightly, her gaze thoughtful. “Music isn’t something you’re supposed to wrestle with. It’s like water—it flows when you stop trying to hold onto it so tightly.” She shifted her hands off the keys and folded them in her lap, her eyes now fully on him. “You’ve been pushing too hard. I could hear it.”

Her words were soft, but they carried something that made Charles pause. He had been pushing—straining against the silence, desperate to capture a piece of the magic he’d once had. Every night in the studio had been a battle, and he hadn’t realised until now that the real fight was with himself.

“You’re right,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve been trying so hard to top what I did last time that I forgot why I was doing it in the first place.”

She leaned back slightly, still watching him, her expression unreadable. “What was your last piece?” she asked, her voice curious but not probing.

Charles hesitated. The memory of his last composition—an orchestral piece that had been his most successful work to date—felt distant now, like it belonged to someone else. It had been raw, emotional, inspired by something deeply personal, but the success that followed had overshadowed the joy he’d felt when he created it. Ever since then, he’d been chasing that same feeling, trying to recreate the magic, only to fall short.

“It was…” He trailed off, searching for the right words. “Something personal. It came easily back then. But now it feels like I’m trying to catch lightning in a bottle, and I’m just… stuck.”

She nodded, her fingers idly tracing patterns on the piano’s surface. “I get that. Sometimes the more you want something, the harder it is to find. That’s why I don’t perform much.” She smiled faintly, almost to herself. “There’s less pressure when no one’s watching.”

Charles studied her for a moment, sensing the layers beneath her calm demeanour. She spoke with such ease about the creative process, but there was an edge of vulnerability there too, a reluctance to expose too much of herself to the world.

“Why don’t you perform?” he asked, curious now. “I mean, with the way you play, you could easily—”

“Because I don’t need to,” she interrupted, her tone gentle but firm. “The music is for me. It’s not about the audience. It’s about…” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “It’s about connecting with something deeper, something that doesn’t care about applause or recognition.”

Her words hung in the air between them, and Charles found himself nodding slowly, understanding exactly what she meant. In a way, she had found a kind of freedom he had lost along the way.

“That’s why you play at night,” he said, more a statement than a question. “When no one’s around. It’s like…” He trailed off, trying to find the right analogy, “…the world doesn’t exist.”

She smiled at that, a real one this time, her eyes brightening just a little. “Exactly. It’s easier to lose yourself when there’s no one expecting anything from you.”

Charles sat back, processing her words. For so long, he had been weighed down by expectations—his own, his producer’s, the fans—and it had drained him. Maybe that was the problem. He had been writing for others, forgetting that the music had always been something he did for himself first. Something he loved.

She nudged him lightly with her shoulder, breaking his thoughts. “You know,” she said, a playful lilt in her voice, “you could try playing like no one’s watching. Even if they are.”

He turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she said, leaning in just a bit, “you’re too worried about what people think of your music. But here”—she motioned to the piano in front of them—“there’s no audience. Just us. So why not stop thinking so much and just… play?”

Charles blinked, the simplicity of her suggestion hitting him harder than it should have. She made it sound so easy, but maybe that was the point. Maybe it was supposed to be easy.

Before he could respond, she slid her fingers back onto the keys, playing a few soft chords that hummed through the air like the beginning of something new. Then she glanced sideways at him, a small, teasing smile tugging at her lips. “Come on. Share the bench again. Let’s make something together.”

A spark of excitement flared in his chest. Without another word, Charles moved closer, their knees brushing as they both settled into position, fingers poised over the keys. This time, he wasn’t overthinking it. He wasn’t wrestling with the music. He was just… there.

She started first, her melody soft and fluid, and Charles followed, instinctively matching her rhythm, letting their sounds merge and flow together. The music wasn’t perfect—it stuttered at times, shifted unexpectedly—but it was alive. It had a pulse. It breathed with them.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Charles wasn’t haunted by the silence. He wasn’t weighed down by the pressure of creating something great. He was just… playing. Creating. Feeling the music as it moved through him, through them both.

As their hands danced over the keys, weaving together something raw and beautiful, he realised something that felt both terrifying and thrilling: maybe this was what he had been missing. Not perfection. Not even recognition. Just the simple, undeniable joy of creating with someone who understood. Someone who could make the music feel real again.

When the last note faded into the quiet, Charles turned to her, his heart still racing.

“I think,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, “I need to stop chasing what I’ve already done and start finding something new.”

She nodded, her eyes bright and knowing. “And maybe,” she said, her voice equally quiet, “we can find it together.”

The last note lingered in the air between them, and Charles felt something warm and alive settle in his chest. The music they had made together had been unlike anything he’d played in so long—imperfect, yes, but honest. Real. The creative block that had suffocated him for weeks was finally gone, or at least, it felt that way in this fleeting moment of clarity.

She glanced at him, her smile soft but distant. She seemed different now, as though the music had taken something from her as well. Before Charles could say anything, she pushed herself up from the piano bench, her fingers lingering on the edge of the keys for just a second longer than necessary.

"I've got to go."

Her words were quiet, almost an afterthought, and they hit him with an unexpected force. She didn’t give him time to respond, to ask anything, to even say goodbye. She simply gathered her bag and moved toward the door, her steps quick and purposeful.

“Wait—” Charles started, rising halfway from the bench, but it was too late.

She turned to him for a brief moment, a smile that was part mystery, part something he couldn’t quite read crossing her lips. “Don’t stop playing, tesoro (treasure)” she said softly. “You’re closer than you think.”

And then, before he could find his voice, she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her with an eerie finality.

Charles stood frozen for a few long moments, staring at the door. His mind raced. He didn’t have her number. He didn’t know where she lived, where she studied, or how to reach her. She had slipped away like a melody in the night, as effortlessly as she’d come into his life.

With a sigh, he sank back onto the piano bench, running his hands through his hair. The room felt strangely empty without her, the space they had shared now echoing with the silence she left behind. But something inside him had shifted. The music they’d created still hummed in his veins, and the weight of doubt that had plagued him for so long felt lighter. Almost like it was dissolving, piece by piece.

He placed his hands on the keys, the cool touch of ivory grounding him, and began to play.

At first, the melody was slow, almost tentative. It mirrored the notes they’d played together, but now it began to morph into something new, something entirely his own. As his fingers moved, the music unfolded naturally, effortlessly. It was as though every piece of frustration, every sleepless night, every failed attempt to capture the right sound was now fueling something greater. Something real.

The notes swelled and cascaded, filling the room with a rich, haunting melody that seemed to flow directly from his soul. It was raw, brimming with emotion—a reflection of everything he had felt, everything he had fought against. But now, there was no more fighting. The music came freely, weaving together in ways that felt effortless and inevitable.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Charles wasn’t thinking. He wasn’t chasing perfection or wrestling with expectations. He was simply… playing. The music poured out of him like a long-held breath, each note sharper, more vivid than the last. The emotions he had buried—frustration, longing, even joy—flooded into the sound, and it consumed him.

His hands moved faster now, the melody becoming more urgent, more intense. He didn’t know where it was going, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t about the destination. It was about this—this pure, unfiltered moment of creation.

And then, without warning, a tear slipped down his cheek.

Charles barely noticed it at first, too wrapped up in the music, but soon another tear followed. And another. He wasn’t sobbing—there was no sadness in it. Instead, it was an overwhelming sense of release, of joy, of finally breaking through. The music swelled, the room vibrating with sound, and Charles felt it wash over him. A catharsis he hadn’t known he needed.

When he hit the final chord, it echoed through the room, ringing out long after his fingers had stilled. The silence that followed was profound, heavy with the weight of everything he had just poured into the keys.

Charles sat there, hands trembling slightly, staring at the piano in disbelief. A shaky laugh escaped his throat, followed by a deep, breathless exhale. He had done it. He had finally played something worth keeping.

No—it was more than that. He had played one of the best pieces of his life.

For a long while, he just sat there, his hands resting in his lap, feeling the weight of what he had just created. Tears still clung to his lashes, but his chest felt light—lighter than it had in months. Maybe years.

He wasn’t just crying because of the music. He was crying because, for the first time in a long time, he was truly happy. 

Charles leaned forward, resting his forehead against the cool wood of the piano, letting the last remnants of tension drain from him. His breath was steady now, calm. The room was bathed in a kind of quiet peace he hadn’t known in so long. He had no idea where the girl had gone, or if he’d ever see her again. But somehow, it didn’t matter.

The music was enough.

What he didn’t know—what he couldn’t have known—was that she hadn’t really left. Not entirely.

Outside the door, hidden in the shadows of the hallway, she stood, her back pressed against the wall. She had stopped as soon as she’d heard the first notes drift through the air, her hand hovering over the door handle but never turning it.

She had listened. Every note, every chord, every emotion Charles had poured into the piano, she had felt it too. Her heart had raced with his, her breath had caught in her throat when she’d heard the moment he broke through the wall he had been fighting against.

She smiled softly to herself, her hand finally dropping to her side as the last note of Charles’s masterpiece echoed through the studio. She had heard something in his playing tonight that she hadn’t expected. Something raw and powerful.

She turned to leave, her steps soft on the floor, leaving the sound of his triumph behind. Maybe she would come back one day, maybe not. But she knew this much—he didn’t need her anymore.

He had found his music again. And that, in itself, was enough.

As she disappeared into the night, Charles remained at the piano, still catching his breath, unaware of the quiet presence that had stayed with him until the very end.

The following days felt surreal, like a dream Charles was reluctant to wake from. After that night in the studio with the girl, his life had been interrupted by a trip to Silverstone to try out the tyres for the new season. The track buzzed with its usual energy, but no matter where he wandered, Charles’s thoughts always drifted back to her and the music they’d played together.

He had left the studio that night haunted by the memory of her delicate touch on the keys, the way their melodies had intertwined as though they’d been waiting for each other all along. He carried it with him over to England, through busy track meets and silent hotel rooms. Late at night, when sleep wouldn’t come, he would close his eyes and hear her music, as if it had lodged itself permanently in his mind.

It wasn’t just the music, though. It was her—the quiet way she had smiled at him, the lightness in her voice when she teased him, the sense of understanding that had passed between them without needing to be spoken.

Now, as Charles stepped back into the familiar silence of the studio late at night right off the plane, he felt a quiet anticipation coiled tightly in his chest. The lights were dim, the air cool and still, and for a moment, it felt like time had paused. The room was empty, and there was no trace of her—no soft melody floating through the air, no sound of delicate fingers dancing across the keys.

Disappointment stirred, settling somewhere deep. He’d been hoping, perhaps foolishly, that she’d be here. That they could pick up where they’d left off. He made his way to the piano, where the polished surface glinted in the low light, as inviting as ever.

And then he saw it—a small note left on the piano bench. His pulse quickened as he unfolded it, her handwriting instantly recognizable, though scrawled in that same casual, hurried way:

"Play with your heart, tesoro."

A soft smile tugged at his lips. The simplicity of the message was so very her. It was a whisper, a reminder of what mattered. A push, gentle but certain.

Charles set the note aside and sat down on the bench, the studio eerily quiet around him. For a moment, he just sat there, the weight of the piano keys beneath his fingers, the faint memory of their music hovering in the air. Then, without thinking too much, he began to play.

The melody started slow, almost hesitant, each note like a thought he hadn’t quite formed yet. But as he played, the music unfolded into something deeper, something more intimate. It wasn’t complicated or grand—it didn’t need to be. It was soft, heartfelt, like a quiet conversation spoken in a language only they understood.

He let go of the pressure, the constant need to craft something perfect, and instead just let the music be what it was—a reflection of what he felt, of what had been buried deep inside him since he’d met her. The music filled the room, curling into the corners like a secret. And for the first time in what felt like months, he felt at peace.

As the last notes lingered in the air, a soft sound broke the quiet. Applause—light, slow, and warm.

Charles turned, startled, and there she was, standing in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the dim light from the hallway. She was watching him, her hands clasped softly in front of her, a small, knowing smile playing on her lips. Her eyes sparkled with something tender, something familiar. She’d been listening, perhaps the whole time.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Charles murmured, his voice softer than the room itself.

She took a few quiet steps toward him, her gaze never leaving his. “I didn’t want to interrupt,” she said gently, her smile deepening. “It was beautiful.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The room felt suspended in a kind of stillness, the last remnants of his melody hanging between them, but no words were needed to fill the quiet. She came closer, and Charles shifted slightly on the bench, instinctively making space for her. She sat beside him, their shoulders brushing softly in the small space, the warmth of her presence settling something inside him.

“Play it again,” she whispered, her voice low, like a secret shared just between them.

He hesitated for a second, but then his fingers found their way back to the keys, this time slower, more deliberate. The music that spilled out was softer now, more intimate, as if shaped by the quiet weight of her sitting beside him. She watched as his hands moved, her gaze gentle, and as he played, the world outside seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of them and the music between them.

After a few moments, her fingers joined his, their hands moving together over the keys with a quiet ease. Her touch was so light, so effortless, and the sound they created was simple yet achingly beautiful—a melody that spoke of longing and connection, of words unspoken but deeply felt. There was no rush, no urgency in the way they played, only a slow unfolding of something real and fragile.

Charles stole a glance at her, his heart tightening. There was something unspoken in the air, something that went beyond the music they shared. He could feel it in the way she leaned in ever so slightly, the way her breath seemed to sync with his, the soft, steady rhythm of their playing.

When the last note faded into the stillness, neither of them moved. They sat there, shoulders barely touching, the silence around them thick with the weight of everything unsaid. Slowly, she turned her head toward him, her eyes soft, her smile quiet but full of meaning.

“You played with your heart,” she whispered, her words echoing the note she had left for him.

Charles’s throat tightened, the room suddenly feeling too small, too full of everything he hadn’t yet said. He turned toward her, his voice catching in his chest as he whispered back, “You make it easier.”

Her smile deepened, and for a moment, there was only the soft rise and fall of their breathing, the music they had created still lingering in the air around them. It felt like something had shifted between them, like a door had been opened that couldn’t easily be closed again.

And as they sat there, side by side on the piano bench, Charles realised that the silence no longer felt heavy. It felt full—of possibility, of something quiet and beautiful, waiting patiently to be discovered.

Together.

Charles’s heart raced, the air between them thick with anticipation. They sat in a charged stillness, so close their breaths seemed to mingle. The soft light of the studio flickered gently against her face, casting shadows that made her seem almost otherworldly. Her lips parted, just slightly, as if waiting for something—an unspoken invitation.

Before he could think too much about it, before doubt could creep in, Charles leaned in.

At first, it was tentative—a brush of lips so light it felt like it might disappear if he wasn’t careful. He kissed her softly, testing the moment, unsure if he was crossing some unseen line. But then she responded, her lips pressing back against his with the same quiet hunger he hadn’t realised was burning between them all along.

The kiss deepened, their soft breaths mingling in the quiet. A slow, intoxicating warmth spread through Charles’s chest, pulling him further in. He cupped her face gently with his hand, his thumb brushing against her cheek as their lips moved together, tentative but growing bolder with each passing second. Her hand found his, her fingers slipping between his, and she pulled him closer, as though the space between them had become unbearable.

Suddenly, the kiss wasn’t soft anymore—it became something more urgent, more passionate, the weight of everything they hadn’t said spilling over into the kiss. Charles felt his pulse quicken, his mind lost in the warmth and closeness of her. He slid his hand to the back of her neck, pulling her in deeper, their lips moving together in a rhythm that felt as natural as the music they had created moments ago.

She shifted slightly on the bench, her body pressing closer to his, and the heat between them grew. The world outside seemed to vanish, leaving only the two of them in the dim, quiet studio, the echoes of their kiss the only sound. The softness of her touch, the taste of her lips—it was all intoxicating, a crescendo building within him.

Charles could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and he didn’t want it to stop. He could have stayed in that moment forever, lost in the intensity of her kiss, in the way her hands tangled in his hair, in the way she fit so perfectly against him.

But then, as though sensing they were both on the edge of something overwhelming, Charles pulled back just slightly, his lips still lingering close to hers, their breaths mingling in the stillness. They were both breathing harder, and for a moment, neither spoke.

Her eyes fluttered open, her gaze locking with his, wide and full of something unspoken. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips slightly swollen, and Charles had to fight the urge to pull her back into another kiss.

“Tesoro” she whispered, her voice soft and a little breathless, as though she couldn’t quite find the words.

He smiled gently, his thumb brushing over her lips before he let his hand fall away, resting on the piano between them. His heart still raced, but there was something peaceful now, something right. He hadn’t felt this in so long—this connection, this ease.

“I need to thank you, angioletto ” Charles murmured, his voice low and full of emotion.

“For what?” she asked, her eyes searching his, a quiet vulnerability in her gaze.

“For inspiring this,” he said, his words soft but heavy with meaning. “For inspiring me.” He gestured toward the piano, where the notes of their shared music still seemed to hover in the air between them. “That song we played together… I never would have found it without you.”

Her lips parted, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, but her eyes shimmered with something deeper, something that mirrored what Charles was feeling.

“You’ve helped me more than you know,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “Before you, I was stuck. I couldn’t write, couldn’t feel the music anymore. But playing with you—it’s like something clicked. You brought it back.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her smile growing, but there was a quiet tenderness in her expression, as if she understood all the things he wasn’t saying. Slowly, she leaned in, resting her forehead gently against his, and they stayed like that, breathing each other in, the world softening around them.

“I’m glad I could help,” she whispered, her voice a soft caress against his skin.

Charles closed his eyes, letting the moment settle between them, the weight of her words sinking in. He had been searching for something—chasing it endlessly, driving himself to exhaustion in its pursuit. But sitting here, with her, with the music they had created still vibrating in the air, he realised he had already found it.

It wasn’t just the music. It was her. She had become his muse in more ways than one.

He pulled back slightly to meet her gaze once more, his eyes searching hers for a long moment. And then, without another word, he kissed her again—slowly, tenderly this time. It was a kiss filled not with urgency, but with gratitude and something deeper, something unspoken but undeniable.

And in that kiss, Charles knew he wasn’t just thanking her for the music. He was thanking her for being the spark that had reignited something inside him, for being the light in a place that had felt dark for so long.

When their lips finally parted, he rested his forehead against hers once more, the two of them still breathing each other in, their hearts in sync. The studio was quiet now, but it wasn’t empty. The music they had shared—the connection they had formed—lingered in the air like a promise.

And for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Charles felt whole.

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[luvt0kki]

INTERLUDE | OPENING SEQUENCE

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This scene that locked me up The sequence that's like forever Stay for me, stay for me, stay for me I can't get used to it, used to it, used to it

🎧: Opening Sequence - TXT

previous | INTERLUDE | next

pairings: ot8 x f!reader (san x reader)

w.c : 10k ( im sorry for any errors)

cw: mature, ,minors do not interact, nsfw, reader is afab, slow burn, polyamory, smut , bittersweet, angst, MC's background is inspired by Black Widow's background with the Red Room, reader is called sweet heart/baby, hints of abuse/manipulation, mc’s past, mention of their training days, injuries, scars, loss of virginity, first time, very very very longgggggg chapter I’m sorry

REMINDER: my works do not represent the irl members in any way, this is purely a work of FICTION.

a/n : surprise? SPECIAL CHAPTER!!!! I hope you guys like this one. I didn’t initially plan to write this but after posting chapter 005 I wanted to write something different or something else and this came about. I hope you guys like. Thank you for being so patient with me 🥺💗

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE, OR OTHERWISE REPURPOSE ANY OF MY WORK HERE. I DO NOT NOR WILL ALLOW IT.

“How long do you think before they find us here?”

The young assassin paused, his heart dropping. Never has he ever heard you, YOU, out of all the graduated students of the Academy, sound like this.

You were always so sure of yourself but now, he was hearing a completely different person yet so familiar. When was the last time he heard you like this? He was quick to recall it and that ache in his chest began to feel as if he was burning from the inside. This small, unsure, and weak voice belonged to the little girl he grew up with before the academy changed everything and he never heard you like this again.

Til today.

He was scared to turn around.

If your own resolve was shaking then the situation was worse than he thought.

San shook his head and continued to look around the padded room looking for any signs of a possible escape. Even if you two did get out, you two would have nothing but your knives and your fists.

“No one’s going to come for us, aren’t they Sannie?” You choked out his nickname so softly, that he felt his heart broke. “At the end of the day…” you went on, the fears of a little girl that San had failed to protect breaking through the facade the Academy molded and chiseled you in. “I’m just one of their many weapons. The other girls in the Academy…they’re good. Better. I will be of no use soon.”

San’s hands were beginning to tremble uncontrollably as he reloaded the gun. You were the Academy’s proudest creation, you had set the standard. Though those things were true, these were your fears. They were just as real.

“We’ve sent a Morse code to them. They’ll find us soon. They won’t let you go as easily.” San swallowed the lump in his throat trying to maintain composure and not let the impending doom of you both get to him.

What made him sadder was that he was right. The Academy won’t let you go. You were chained to them in a way, he wasn’t.

“Sannie…”

They could afford to lose him. He was a part of the top three of those who graduated with him but he wasn’t the first of the batch.

“They’ll come for you.”

The room that confined you two was dim. The skylight let some moonlight shine through to illuminate what it could in the darkness you two were submerged in. Did your captors really believe the Academy would buy their ransom for two of their assassins? They would come with a brute force that would leave them nothing in ashes. If no one came for the two of you, they’ll kill you both or worse, sell the two of you off to the market.

San would kill them before they even thought of selling you as a slave.

“Sannie, it’s cold.”

His composure broke then.

Gone was the weapon the Academy created.

Without any hesitation, San went to where you had been sitting (on the white sheet mattress in the room they threw you two in) then pulled you onto his lap with his arms wrapped around you. Your skin was cold to the touch and his desperation to hold you only grew. He cradled you so gently in his arms, scared that if he embraced you tighter you’d shatter.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispered, resting his chin on the top of your head as he kept his gaze up, fighting back tears and the urge to press his lips on the the crown of your head. “I’m here. I'm not going anywhere.”

You were taught to never take anyone’s words seriously. Always doubt them, they once said. Doubt them until they prove it because you can never know what they mean and yet, you believed every word San said.

Every promise he has ever made, he kept them. Everything he said he would do, he did. But even if he didn’t prove to be a man of his word, the part of you that you pushed in the dark, would believe him blindly.

His strong arms held you in a way you never knew you needed to be held and the warmth of his body was giving you, melted away the armor you didn’t have the luxury to take off.

“Sannie,”

He loved it when you called him Sannie. Since you two met, he was your Sannie. If you asked him now, just once, to be yours, he’d be yours forever.

“Yeah?” He caressed your back in gentle circles, taking note of how your shivering lessened and your breathing calmed.

You didn’t continue your thought. It got stuck in your throat. How could you possibly say what you wanted to? Instead, you opted to bury your face into his neck. You’ll think about it for a bit…because what if it was the wrong time to say it?

“Can I hold your hand?”

Your voice was such a soft whisper, that San almost didn’t hear it. It was like you were embarrassed to have even asked, even though he’s held your hand so many times in secret during your training days when it was an evaluation day.

San hummed in response and carefully, still cradling you in his lap with your head leaning on his chest, slipped his hand with yours. He stared at your hands as he did. His hand was bigger than yours and his heart dropped when he realized you had taken off your gloves. Such delicate hands were bruised at the knuckles and hands that only ever touched or brushed him so gently.

He knew in your head you could only see how stained your arms were with blood.

“Your hands are cold,” he pointed out, pouting a little at the fact and like he did when you were younger, he took both your hands and brought them close to his mouth to breathe warmth into them.

You felt your heart thump particularly strong in your chest. The feelings you’ve had for San that you had hidden away because you were told you could never be loved nor love for you were only a weapon, returned.

Because you are a weapon, you would only ever hurt the people you love.

“How are you so warm?” You chuckled, falling into a comfort you denied yourself for so long. “If I remember correctly, you were such a small petite thing when we were younger. I was afraid you wouldn’t make it past the selection.”

He laughed softly at the memory. “I didn’t want to be left behind. I need to be with you no matter what.” He let himself speak freely and honestly, letting his hands warm yours.

“I would’ve purposely failed if that was the case. I wouldn’t want to continue on without you.” You admitted, feeling the ache of your muscles finally hit you.

“They would’ve known if you did.”

“That’s true.”

“I would catch up to you no matter what. To be by your side…” San paused, afraid to say what he wanted to in fear that you may not feel the same. “For a long time, I believe that’s where I belong.”

His words caught you off guard. Did Sannie know? Did he know that you loved him? There was no way he could but the possibility of attraction between the two of you could not be ruled out so easily. It was there. You both knew it. You two just never spoke of it.

“Do you still believe that?” You asked, feeling a little braver and desperate.

What if this was it? It had been four days since the enemy got the upper hand and immobilized you and San and sealed you two up in this room. What if the Academy did abandon you both? Weapons are replaceable.

“I’m here with you now, aren’t I?”

He’s always been there.

You lifted your head off his shoulder to gaze up at him.

Gone was the little boy you worried about whenever you two trained separately. The one who was easily thrown and bullied around by his much stronger contenders. You were afraid of losing him even then because you had wondered why someone with such a gentle heart could ever hurt people. For goodness sake, he continued to let himself get beaten up just because one of the much younger trainees out of desperation and hunger, stole a piece of roasted sweet potato.

Before you now was a man. San still had the handsomeness he’s had since he was younger except it matured and bloomed into sharp features and a striking beauty that lost all the softness of his younger self. His body was no longer frail and sickly. His back and shoulders became broad, lean muscles had grown and given him more shape that reminded you of the prowess of a black panther.

But when he smiled.

He was the Sannie you cared for and loved so deeply…so quietly.

“Can you promise me something?” You asked, feeling your heart begin to ache.

“Anything for you.” He smiled softly down at you and you wished he hadn’t because it’d made your heart want him even more.

“If we get out of this alive…” you felt tears begin to form in your eyes. “Promise me you’ll leave the academy.”

“Y/N—,” he began to protest, sitting up a little bit you shushed him gently and changed your positions.

You cupped his face gently with your hands and looked straight into his eyes.

“When we get out of here, you need to disappear. Leave this life behind.”

San has never seen you cry since the Selection. Your eyes which were usually blank and cold, and that only ever warmed when you looked at him were glassy with tears and there was fear in them. Pure fear and hurt.

“P-please, Sannie. Leave the Academy.”

Why were you asking him something so difficult?

“You deserve more than this life. You should be able to live freely and to love freely. Leave all this behind. Leave me behind.” You were begging him now, your hot tears falling onto his beautiful face. His eyes were so gentle as they looked up at you.

“Don’t ask me of this, Y/N.” He tried to be stern to mask the breaking of his heart. “You know I can’t do that!” He wrapped his arms around your waist. “I can’t. I can’t…I can’t.” His voice was trembling, both your fears breaking you down.

“Do it for me, Sannie.” You wiped his tears away with your thumbs, fighting the urge to kiss the beauty mark on his upper cheek. “If one of us gets to be free, it should be you.”

“That’s not fair, Y/N.” He grabbed you by the back of your neck while his other hand brought your leg to be able to wrap around him, consumed by the need to be close to you. He pressed your forehead against his.

“We both deserve to live. If we’re talking about who should be free, it should be you.” He said through gritted teeth, still not letting all his composure go. How could you think so little of your life? “You’re not a weapon.”

He took your hand and placed it over where his heart would be. “We both have hearts that beat. We both have tears to cry. You breathe just like I do. You feel just like I do…you can love just like I do.”

San’s words echoed in your head, they rang like an alarm as those words breached the codes that the Academy programmed into you.

You couldn’t think straight. None of you could.

‘You can love just like I do.’

Could you, really?

Your bleary eyes searched San’s glimmering onyx orbs. You were scared to find nothing but conviction and such surety that made you believe him that you could. The hope in his eyes frightened you.

You didn’t know how to love. You only assumed to know that love was a precious emotion you could never have. The Academy said love was a weakness but all the training and programming they did, seemed to not exist at this very moment. Neither did it for San.

Well in his case, you had always been his exception to every rule. He’d break rules, laws, and bones for you.

“I don’t know if I can,” you sobbed softly. The fact you don’t even know how to love makes you feel as if you weren’t human.

Love was different from lust. You knew that. Everyone, even those under the Academy, had needs and everyone was left to handle it themselves as long as it didn’t compromise their abilities or get in the way of missions.

To put it simply, they just fucked for the feeling of it.

But no one touched you. You wouldn’t let it happen. You couldn’t. The other girls were nice enough to tell you how to do it yourself and you wondered if San has ever needed to get those needs out of the way…and the thought of who it could’ve been with made your chest ache at the thought.

“You can.” He smiled, so soft and gentle, it made you wonder if anyone else in the galaxy could look at you that way. So fondly and not the monster and killer you really were.

San held your hand that was against his heart tightly, still smiling up at you so sweetly you didn’t think you could handle that look. It was so foreign to you.

“Y/N, if you’ll let me,” San didn’t care anymore. If you two were going to die tomorrow and if he was going to do as you made him promise, he’d hold you and speak as if this was his last night in this life. “Let me make you feel. It doesn’t have to be love. But please, let me make you truly feel.”

You knew you could say no and it would be okay. All your time in the Academy, you realized the only time you ever felt safe was when you were with San. You didn’t have to keep your guard up with him and you didn’t have to lie to him.

Throwing all caution out the window and focusing on San, just him, you exhaled softly, unaware that you had been holding your breath.

“O-okay.” You held his face softly once more, telling yourself he was real. That he was here, he had never left you not once and he wouldn’t leave you til you told him to. “P-please Sannie.” Your voice quivered. “I want to feel alive.”

“Don’t cry, my darling,” he cooed, wiping your tears away. “You know I’ll do anything for you, right?”

You nodded, letting yourself enjoy the soft touch of his hands in your hair and on your face, and the warmth of his embrace.

“Can I kiss you?”

You felt heat bloom in your cheeks at the question. San knew you’d never been kissed. Well, he knew because first of all, he was your closest friend in the Academy and you told him everything, and secondly, he may or may not have scared off anyone else who wanted to.

“O-okay.” You’ve never felt so shy.

“I won’t ever hurt you, Y/N.” He leaned closer, your heart racing you felt as if it was going to jump out of your chest. “With everything I am and as long as I’m around, I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Your lips parted the slightest bit as his sweet words overwhelmed you with a sensation you’ve only ever felt in tingles whenever you were with him and now they were bursts of warmth that radiated throughout your body.

The plumpness of your lips and that innocent and pure way you gazed at home made him lose all his resolve. Softly as if handling the finest and most fragile porcelain, he pressed his lips against yours, their softness and their warmth, and the closeness of it all, made him feel as if the world had stopped.

You didn’t know what to do but when his lips gently moved against yours, a part of you made you do the same. It’s like your body needed to reciprocate his actions naturally. Maybe it was because you had thought about kissing him and wondered about it late at night til your face was hot and you were flustered at the imagination of what it’d feel to be closer to Sannie in a different way…

Gently, San helped you sit comfortably on his lap, supporting your back as he kissed you, tasting the sweetness of your lips that had a hint of metallic taste from the small cut on your lower lip. He’d kiss away all your cuts and bruises if you’d let him. He’d kiss them to make you forget the pain.

San was still holding back though.

He didn’t want to do anything you didn’t want.

But the way you had begun to kiss him back with the same need as he did, only made it harder for him to not lose himself.

Pulling away reluctantly, he looked at you. Your pretty lashes fluttered so prettily as you blinked dreamily at him, your lips were a glistening pink and your cheeks were glowing.

What made San fall even harder in that moment was the way you shyly looked away when he had been staring.

“Sannie…” you murmured, squeezing his shoulders nervously and completely aware that you were sitting on his lap, straddling him.

You just had your first kiss. San had just kissed you.

“Can I touch you?”

You felt your ears grow hot. “Aren’t you already?” You murmured. His hands were already on your waist and when they weren’t there they were in your hair or caressing your face.

“Let me rephrase that,” He chuckled and pressed his lips onto the corner of your mouth. “Can I…” he kissed your cheek, each kiss making warmth bloom wherever they touched you. “Touch…” He caressed the curve of your spine, your lower back tingling at the gentle touch. “All of you?”

“Y-yes.” You had uttered out so quickly and softly, that you felt embarrassed. You didn’t even think twice.

“You can touch me too,” San began to kiss along the column of your neck, the sensation making you shiver. “You can touch me however you want, Y/N.” He gripped your hips just a little bit tighter, enjoying the way you cutely squirmed.

“Sannie,” you softly called out to him, making him part from your neck which he had been kissing and licking.

His brows rose at your call, waiting for whatever you needed to say but in all honesty, you just needed to feel his lips on yours again.

So without a word, you cradled San’s handsome face in both hands before crashing your lips onto his, surprising not only him but also yourself at how greedy you had become. You didn’t know you could feel such sensations and the kiss just sparked a flame you never knew could come alive, and now that it was lit, it began to burn.

“T-touch me,” you whispered desperately between kisses, his own lips hungrily kissing you back.

San felt as if he was dreaming when those words slipped past your lips and even more so how prettily you moaned when caressed the underside of your breast with his thumb. He was surprised with how sensitive you were. You were still in your cat suit and yet you reacted so quickly to his touch.

His lips and your lips messily danced with desperation to drink each other's heat and passion. Your own hands had begun to tug at his armored protective suit while he also made quick work of your catsuit. San not wanting to leave the warmth of your lips, took his time to unzip the front of your suit. He wanted to be gentle with you despite the lust that was burning him from the inside out he just wanted to feel you and make you feel.

His lips finally left yours only to attack your neck with hot kisses, making you moan out softly. Gently he laid you on the worn-out mattress, parting from you completely so he could kneel between your thighs. Your eyes remained on him as he removed his protective vest, discarding it somewhere in the room before he peeled off his long sleeve over his head. His muscular chiseled body was illuminated by the moonlight, every ridge and ripple of muscle was accentuated by the shadows of the room. You felt a familiar heat pool in your lower body the more you stared at San’s physique and you blushed and turned away when he caught you staring.

The edge of San’s mouth twitched into a small smile, finding your timidness to be rather adorable. He liked how flustered you became because of him. San reached for your hips to pull you closer, your eyes widening when he did.

San found the zipper of your catsuit again, his heart thrumming in his chest as he slowly pulled it down. His breathing grew heavy as yours quickened with how the suit slowly opened revealing glimpses of your naked skin beneath. The rise and fall of your chest along with the sight of the valley of your breasts and hints of your body before him, made his throat dry.

He wanted to take his time but at the same time, his long infatuation that had turned to something more over the years made it difficult.

When the cold air kissed your bare skin, you felt your nipples pebble and harden against the fabric of the suit, making you want to rub your thighs together but that was impossible when San was knelt between your thighs.

“Can I keep going?” He asked you, pausing the pull of your zipper before it could go lower than your belly button. He searched for any uneasiness in your eyes but instead, he found such a sweet yet sinful look in them.

You nodded. “Y-yes, please.”

Gently, he helped you slip your arms out of the suit, his breath hitching at the sight of your bare pretty breasts bouncing free as he bunched the specialized Kevlar-like fabric at your waist. His palms were at least a micro-centimeter away from your skin. Almost afraid and hesitant to truly feel you. An assassin without their suit was just as deadly as them having one but with you, he felt as if without it, you were just a woman. A woman who wanted to be loved…a woman he loved.

Kissing you drove him crazy enough but to get to touch you? He’s going to crumble.

It seemed you had noticed his hesitation and driven by your silent desire, you took his hand and splayed fingers and pressed his palm over the middle of your chest, close to where your heart would be.

You didn’t say a word as his eyes snapped to meet yours. All it told him was that this was consensual, that you wanted him to touch you, and that he could keep going.

If this was truly yours and his last night in this world, none of you wanted to hold back.

“Sannie…” his heart stopped when you softly called out his name. Your eyes looked into his as if he brought you peace, there was no turmoil nor anxiety in them. The cold and dark blankness that they held when you’re on a mission or on Academy grounds was absent.

Right here, before him was just you. The young girl he once knew that the Academy caged and programmed to be a weapon in their beck and call, a woman who did not have the time to love or be loved, nor was allowed to. But if you were to tell him you were incapable of loving, he’d prove to you that you were wrong.

Maybe you didn’t know it then but the compassion you had shown him during your trainee days when he was nothing but the runt of the litter of kids with no future chosen by the Academy to be given a chance, that in its own way was love.

The way you stuck by him, took time to check if he was okay and to defend him from higher ranking assassins, even if it was platonic or more, it was love.

You slipped your fingers into his, intertwining them.

“Keep going.”

There was a hint of sadness in your smile despite the way you looked so longingly at him as if he were the warm shining sun.

He continued to unravel you. Gently, he rolled the fabric to slip past your hips. Despite your line of work, your skin was close to perfect in his eyes. No deep scars nor wounds that left a memory of your missions plus the Academy took good care of their favorites.

But the sight before him proved him wrong.

His heart dropped into his stomach and he felt your hand squeeze his.

Below your belly button and not fully hidden by the waistband of your black underwear, a long jagged scar curved along your lower abdomen. The scar was healed but it left its mark. It sickly smiled at him in a deeper shade than your complexion with pinkish hues.

“W-what is this?” He held your hip gently, his thumb caressing your hipbone afraid to touch that area skin, should you not like it.

He felt his heart break when you only looked at him sadly. “Y/N, w-what is this?” He croaked out hoarsely, his heart breaking when you looked at him that way and continued to hold his hand in yours.

“My graduation.”

The world stopped and he heard nothing but a dull ringing in his ears.

The Academy.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it didn’t matter. Why should I speak of something that I could never get back.”

“D-don’t talk like that. Y/N you should’ve told me.”

You sat up, heart breaking when you heard his voice crack. San didn’t even realize that tears were falling from his eyes as he stared at that mocking smiling scar. Just when he thought the Academy couldn’t take any more from you, they took everything.

Well, almost everything. But not him. They were not taking him away from you. Never.

“Sannie, don’t cry.” You smiled, wiping his tears away. “I didn’t tell you 'cause I knew you’d cry.” You took a deep breath, finally telling your closest friend of so many years the secret you’ve kept from him. “This is why you should leave the Academy and live a life you truly deserve. You have a chance for a future you want. Mine…well…mine was taken from me. It was a silly dream I had when we were kids.”

“When we spent time around the towns and I’d see people getting married and having families, I thought I could have that. I thought I was going to marry you and have a family. At twelve years old.” You laughed softly at the childhood memory. “At twelve years old, I looked at you, my best friend, and thought ‘I’m going to marry San’ and that we’re going to be as happy as the families I’ve seen. That I would have a child and give them the life I never had…but then the Academy happened.”

San’s tears streamed down his handsome face and you held his face in your hands once more, making him look at you.

“I don’t want to think about that tonight. I don’t want to think about what I went through to stay alive.” You leaned down to kiss his jaw and your breath was hot against his ear as you uttered words that shattered his heart even more. “So don’t touch me like I’m made of glass. You can’t break something that’s already broken. Make me forget, Sannie.”

You kissed him again then took his hand that was on your hip and guided it to cup your breast, your body tingling and warming at the touch. The simple gesture told him one thing. Throw caution out the window. Nothing else mattered now except you and him. If both of you were going to die tomorrow, you both wanted to feel love and act on desires that both of you held back on.

Driven by the love he harbored for you for so long, he attacked your neck with heated kisses and caressed your bare torso with such a need to feel your skin.

Your warmth and your scent, he could die in it.

Sloppily, he licked and nibbled at the juncture of your neck and shoulder before going lower, and hungrily taking the soft peak of your breast into his hot mouth.

You gasped and moaned at the sudden and new sensation, your body tingling over and your hips mindlessly grinding on San’s thigh. You shivered at the spark of friction and loosely wrapped your arms around his head, your fingers combing through his hair as his tongue flicked and swirled over your sensitive nipple while his other hand gave your other breast attention. He squeezed and massaged them just as greedy as his mouth was latched onto your right tit.

Soon, clothes were haphazardly thrown away and you were on your back completely on display for San’s eyes and his eyes only. The coldness of the room was forgotten as your bodies began to burn with lust and yours continued to grow hotter as he kissed along your inner thigh, his slit cat-like predatory gaze never leaving your face.

Your thigh was hooked over his left shoulder and San took his time kissing your soft plush thighs, nipping and biting where he wanted and enjoying the way you squirmed and trembled. But when he came face to face with your pretty pink pussy before him, he felt like he could cum untouched.

His gaze was hot as he stared at your core and you wanted to close your thighs but it was impossible with San’s position. He rested his hand over your lower belly as he licked his lips.

“You’re dripping,” he said lowly, eying your slick pink folds and your little pulsing hole that pushed more arousal out the more he teased you. He brushed his thumb over your clit and your hips bucked.

Fuck, he swore to himself. You were so sensitive.

Biting his lip, he collected your arousal and messily spread it all over your cunt. You could feel the warm sticky slick over your skin and you only grew more needy for his touch. You’ve touched yourself plenty of times when you needed to…but it was different when it was someone else, it was different that it was San.

“Fuck,” he hissed softly, feeling how wet you were and how easily his thumb was able to circle around your sensitive clit, enjoying the reactions he was eliciting from you. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?”

You nodded, shamelessly.

“Have you ever been touched here?” He asked, wondering if you were like the other assassins who deal with their desires by sleeping with another assassin. If you answered yes, he’d be jealous. He’s already jealous at the thought of someone else being as close as he was to you right now.

But your answer was more than he expected.

“N-no. Just me.” You breathily replied, biting back a moan when he pressed a little more as he massaged your clit in slow languid circles.

“Yeah? Just you? All alone?”

“Mhm Hm.” You bit your lip, your hips bucking into his hand for more.

You were driving him crazy. He was imagining you touching yourself in your room. Pretty little hand in your panties playing with yourself underneath the covers and biting back your moans like you were right now.

“You know…there’s something better than just your fingers,” he inched closer, his breath fanning over your pussy, the heat of it making you clench around nothing. He hooked his arms underneath your thighs to hold you down and keep your hips still.

“Your fingers?” You guessed, blinking at him and watching his every move. You found it rather embarrassing that he was this close to your intimate area.

“Definitely,” he chuckled at your response. “But not that, sweetheart.” He kissed the top of your pubic bone. “Something even better.”

Before you could ask what, his pink tongue peeked from his lips and licked a long stripe from your dripping hole and up your clit. You moaned at the feeling, squirming in his hold. Not one second did his eyes leave yours, the intensity of them made you need him more, and when he slowly flicked his tongue around your clit, tasting you, the pleasure went straight to your head.

“A-ah, Sannie,” you gasped but it didn’t end there.

As he had done with your breast, he latched his hot lips onto your core and began tasting you.

San moaned against your pussy at the sweet taste of your cunt, slurping and hungrily licking at your arousal as if he didn’t want to let a single drop go to waste.

It was downright dirty. Pornographic.

He kissed and made out with your core like he had with your lips. You never knew that you could feel such mind-numbing pleasure like this. His tongue was so hot and his lips were so soft, and just when you thought it couldn’t get better, you felt the tip of his finger tease your entrance.

It was almost too much.

You gripped his dark hair and tugged when you felt him slip a digit inside of you. His finger was thicker than yours, longer too. A rush of arousal washed over you when you heard him moan against your pussy when you pulled his hair.

“You’re so wet, fuck. You taste so good.” He briefly left your clit then licked at the pearl before saying. “My finger slipped in so easily, sweetheart. I think you can take another one already. Can’t you?”

“Y-yes. San, please. I-I need more. Please.” You panted breathlessly. Just as you asked, he delivered.

He added another finger into your hole, slowly slipping them in and losing his fucking mind at how tight you were sucking his digits in. He could only imagine how heavenly it must feel when it was his cock instead.

“So fucking tight, sweetheart.” He bit his lip, slowly beginning to pump his fingers in and out of you, his fingers completely covered in your slick. “You like that, darling? Love how my fingers are filling you up?”

You nodded, gripping the mattress below you as your hips moved on their own, and words you’ve never thought you’d say out loud slipped past your lips. “W-want to feel you deeper. M-more please.”

San could only smile at your reaction before he latched his mouth again onto your clit while fingers curled inside of you. You swore at how easily he found that spot you desperately tried to find on your own in the privacy of your room. His fingers were thicker and your chaste walls welcomed them so easily. The way he touched you and pleasured you felt so good, you didn’t care about the lewd squelching sounds your pussy made as he fucked his fingers into you. You could even feel your arousal drip from your hole and onto the mattress.

His eyes were peacefully closed shut as he tasted you. It was as if he was savoring every single bit of you and this kind of attention was making a familiar warmth bloom in your chest.

“S-San, w-wait, I-I’m,” you stuttered out, feeling your core tighten, the familiar sensation of being on that edge far more intense than when you touched yourself alone.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay,” he murmured against your core, releasing your overstimulated clit with a soft wet pop. “Cum for me. Be a good girl and cum for me.”

Something about what he said and how he flicked his tongue against your clit as his fingers mercilessly pumped and curled inside of you, sent you over the edge. You gasped as your hips trembled and your walls convulsed around his fingers, your climax making you shake and your mind go blank momentarily.

San hummed deeply, the vibration of the sound along with how he slowly lapped your release and moved his lips as he did, made some part of your brain melt.

He couldn’t get enough and he quite literally was acting as if this was his last meal on earth.

“S-Sannie, wait—ah!” He prolonged your organs with his lazy kisses and languid kitten licks.

Once he had gotten enough (though he doesn’t think he’ll ever get enough), he parted from your lower lips to look at you through hooded eyes full of hunger and lust. It made your heart race.

With his eyes locked on yours, he thought his two fingers that had been inside of your heat to his lips and licked your essence off of it, a sudden heat passing through your body at the visual.

“You taste like heaven, sweetheart.” He moaned deeply, taking his time to taste you on his fingers.

“H-how about you?” You asked, your voice breathy and higher than its usual tone.

He caressed your thighs, lovingly as you came down from your high. “What about me sweetheart?”

Your hands caressed his toned stomach, tracing the lines of his abs and stopping before the waistband of his briefs.

“Do I get to taste you?”

San’s cock throbbed at your question that sounded so innocent from your lips. He wants to make this all about you but you were making it difficult for him to not be selfish and focus on making you feel good.

Still lightheaded from your orgasm, you sat up and crawled to San, the man before you gulping at the visual of you on your knees and seeing the beautiful shape of your back, it was like looking at a cat. You knelt by him, meeting his height before placing your hands on his shoulders and moving him to sit on the mattress with his back against the wall.

“I want to taste you, Sannie.” You purred, sitting a top of your folded legs, his own legs spread to make room for you.

He raised a brow watching you, amused at your actions. Even like this, he looked so attractive.

San smiled softly at you and caressed your cheek as you looked at him with round wide eyes. “Are you sure, sweetheart?”

You nodded, experimentally teasing the imprint of his length in his briefs. His breath hitched at the mere touch of your fingertips, his excitement making his thighs tense.

“Teach me how?” You looked at him through your lashes and the sweet determined look you had turned him on even more.

You were rather shy that you asked him to show you but little did you know, that just sent his mind places. Was he really your first?

Curiously, you palmed his length making a shaky breath leave him. “Did that feel good Sannie?”

“F-fuck… y-yes. It felt good sweetheart.”

“Can I take it off?” You tugged at the waistband lightly and he nodded eagerly.

You pulled down his boxers and once the garment was down past his hips, his cock sprung free from its confines. It slapped against his hard abdomen and you felt your mouth water at the sight.

Not knowing what it’d do to him, you slowly wrapped your hand around his length to gauge his size and San hissed at the warmth of your soft palm. He was hot and stiff, and the pink head was glistening with a slick liquid. With your other hand, your fingertips spread his precum all over the bulbous round tip.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re torturing me.” He groaned the more you massaged this sensitive tip.

You felt your core tingle at the sight of his furrowed brows and his parted lips as you touched him. You wanted to make him feel good too.

“What do you want me to do, Sannie?” Your voice was so sweet.

“F-fuck, baby, spit on it a-and then wrap your pretty hand around me, okay?” His hand gently cupped the back of your neck.

A little hesitant but doing as he said, you spat on his cock, and the dirty sound and act of it made his cock twitch. You were guessing that you should spread it around and when he hummed, it told you, you were doing something right.

“Such a good girl, sweetheart.” He cooed. “Now wrap your hand around me. Fuuuck. Just like that.”

Feeling excited with all the praise he was giving, you kissed his neck slowly, doing as he did to you earlier.

“M-move your hand up and down, sweetheart.”

“O-okay.”

Your saliva mixed with his precum gave lubrication for you to easily glide your hand up and down his shaft.

“That’s it, baby. That feels so good. Fuck.” He moaned. “Come here, let me kiss you.”

You do as he says and kiss with his, moving your lips with his, and your core clenched when you could taste a sweet yet slightly salty flavor on your lips. Was that you? The fact you were tasting yourself on his lips turned you on.

The two of you stayed like that; making out while your hand pumped his cock, feeling his girth and his length. You couldn’t help but wonder how he’d feel inside of you but you wanted to taste him first like you said.

You pulled away from his lips and they pouted at the loss of them but he couldn’t stay disappointed for long, not when your tongue just did a kitten lick on his sensitive tip.

“Fuck, sweetheart, are you really sure?” He moaned, not wanting to force you. He was happy enough that you had been jerking him off. You really didn’t have to return the favor if you didn’t want to.

“Mhm.” You hummed, following your instincts and taking his leaking tip in your mouth, while your hand continued to move up and down his shaft.

His taste made your head spin and your clit throb. You liked the taste of him, it was a little salty but it was just him.

“Shit-,” he threw his head back, his other hand gripping the mattress as you licked and suckled at his tip. “That feels so good. Fuck. Don’t stop. Such a good girl using your pretty mouth on me. Do I taste good?”

You hummed so cutely as a yes. God, he’d do anything for you. How were you this cute?

“Do you think you can take more of my cock in your mouth? You think you can take it?”

His dirty talk made you even wetter and you were sure that you were dripping at this point.

Could you take it? There was only one way to find out.

Breathing through your nose and flattening out your tongue, you slipped his cock deeper almost choking when the hot tip touched the back of your throat but you against your gag reflex and tried to mimic what your hand had been doing. You slowly moved your head up and down, bobbing rhythmically on his cock.

San moaned breathily. This was your first time taking cock in your mouth? “You’re a fucking natural, baby. Fuck. That feels good. You look so pretty like this. Could cum just watching you.”

What you couldn’t take in your mouth, you made up for with your hand, earning more moans from San. You liked this. You liked making him feel good. You liked having his cock inside your mouth, you wanted to taste more than his cock.

You wanted more.

“Fuck,” he swore when he felt you bravely take a little deeper, feeling the way the start of your throat constricted at the intrusion of his cock. “Sweetheart, if you keep doing that—,”

You bobbed your head faster, not caring that you were making such lewd slurping and sucking sounds. He had done the same for you and at that moment you understood why he had enjoyed tasting you.

San’s thighs began to clench and his core tightened further. His knuckles were turning white at how hard he was gripping the mattress in one hand while the other grabbed your ass, making you yelp and take more of him deeper in your throat, which pushed him over the edge.

There was a cute surprised squeak that came from you which was the cherry on top of him spilling his load inside your mouth. Your eyes widened as you felt his hot release go down your throat and they fluttered close as you savored the taste of him.

San was losing it when he felt your throat move as you swallowed his cum. He didn’t know you were going to do that. What’s making his head spin further and making his hazy orgasmic bliss last longer was how you kept him inside your mouth, just the tip, and licking the slit of his cock head.

You pulled away, his cock falling on his stomach, still hard and you sat so cutely in between his legs as he panting and coming down from his high.

You wiped the edge of your mouth and licked what was left of him on your lips.

“Sannie tastes good.”

You didn’t know you had said that out loud in such a soft manner that made San swoon.

San like a cat, pounced on you.

He was once again all over you. Your back was against the mattress as he found his place between your thighs. You eyed his cock, still hard and glistening from when it had been in your mouth. Your walls clenched when San wrapped his own hand around his pretty cock and pressed the head against your clit making you whimper.

San rubbed the tip of his cock through your slit, spreading your slick and coating himself with it. You were so drenched that it was driving him crazy, he wanted to bury his cock deep inside you so bad but when his eyes met the long scar smiling from one hip bone to the other. He wanted to take his time. For you.

“Y/N,” he said softly, holding your hips with care. Even though you told him that he couldn’t break what was broken, he wouldn’t want to think of breaking you. In fact, he wanted to make you feel full, whole, and complete. He wanted to care for you in a way you deserved. “Am I your first?”

The sudden question threw you off. It made you realize that he was going to be your first. Concepts like those shouldn’t matter to you especially since you didn’t have the time to think of such a thing.

“Y-yes…” you admitted, relaxing a little. “You’re the first person to ever kiss me too. I want you to be my first, Sannie.” Your heart was aching while your body burned for him. “And if this is our last night alive, I wouldn’t have imagined anyone else being my first and my last. I’m glad…it’s you.”

San didn’t know if this was the right time to say the three words he’d been dying to say to you for so long. “For me…” he slowly moved his hips, rubbing his length between your slick folds, making your face relax into that flushed blissful expression.

“It’s always been you.”

You didn’t have time to think or question what that meant. Not when the tip of his cock teased at your entrance, just pressing against it.

Slowly, he let the head pop inside your cunt, both of you gasping. The girth of his cock stretched you out more than you could ever with your two fingers and there was a slight sting as he entered, making you bite your lip and whimper.

But he was attentive.

San intertwined his fingers with yours while his other hand held your hip still as he slowly, little by little, inch by inch, pushed his cock deeper into your tight wet heat. The velvety warmth of your walls made his head spin and the way they hugged his cock was heaven. The carnal part inside of him wanted nothing more than to thrust deeply into you and have you falling apart for him.

“S-Sannie, m-more.”

He growled lowly. Despite this being your first time, the wetness of your heat made his cock slip in so easily. Both of you watched as his cock split your lower lips apart and how his length slowly disappeared into you. You were bewildered that San was inside of you. You never knew just how badly you wanted to be close to him until tonight.

The circumstances were dire, it was hopeless but you had him.

“I want to feel more.” You squeezed his hand as he pushed his hips a little further. “Y-you’re so thick.”

San must be dreaming.

You brought your free hand over your mouth as the sensation of being filled up was such a pleasure you’ve never felt before. It was too much and not enough at the same time.

“You’re taking me so well, sweetheart. You’re doing so well.”

He cooed and praised you for each inch you took of him and there was something about the heat of him inside you, spreading apart your chaste walls that made your thighs shiver as he bottomed out.

San let out a long exhale, cursing as he felt his whole length be snuggly embraced by your velvety warm walls. He could even feel your arousal coat him and drip out of your entrance. He was ascending. He was the closest he could ever get to the person he’s only ever seen as the love of his life.

You looked so beautiful before him. How could you be so bashful yet exuding such allure? Your hand squeezed his as you adjusted to his cock inside of you, he could even feel the way your walls squeeze and contracted as you did. Fuck. He was your first. The first man to ever have the privilege to be this close to you, to feel you, and to see you in a state so vulnerable that you hid from everyone.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” San asked, massaging your hips to help you relax. You were squeezing him so tight. “Does it hurt?”

His sweet voice and the care in them made your heart crack. What did you do to deserve someone like Choi San?

“N-not really. It’s just…new.” You whimpered when the head of his cock that was in your mouth earlier was snug against your cervix. “I-I can feel you.”

That made San’s head spin. “Y-yeah?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, holding his hand and looking into his eyes. “I…feel…you.”

Each word held so much weight and emotion that San couldn’t stop himself from leaning down and crashing his lips on yours. He could feel you too and he loved the feeling of you. He drew his hips back just a little, slowly giving you shallow thrusts to get you used to him. You gasped at the sensation of his cock gliding and scraping your walls, the friction so sinfully and mind-numbingly good.

San continued to kiss you, his tongue delving into your warm wet mouth, the two of you kissing messily as his cock eased its way out of your walls leaving only the tip in. You squirmed. The first taste of the motion of his length inside you sparked a rush that felt addicting and when he easily slid back into you again, it confirmed that growing addiction.

“S-Sannie!” You cried out, arms wrapping around him, holding onto him as he stroked your walls deeply.

“F-fuck, Y/N, you feel so good.” He groaned, burying his face into your neck, kissing the spots he hadn’t marked with love bites.

Your legs wrapped around his waist, your lust mixing with greed as you needed more of the feeling that San was giving you. You’ve never felt so much in your time of being alive. It was new. It was something you never had before.

The deep passionate rolls of hips with every intention to make you feel pleasure, the hot kisses on your neck, the sweet nothings he’d whisper, and the gentle caresses on your body. It made you dizzy, you’ve never lost yourself in something so…euphoric.

As San continued to glide his cock in and out of your tight heat, with his forehead against your chest, his eyes met that scar on below your belly once more, his heart aching. Why did they take that away from you? It was so cruel of them.

His emotions were all mixed up. You two might not live to see another day after this night and the two of you acting on your emotions and passions that had been suppressed for so long were both overwhelming. Plus the truth of what happened to you during your Academy days hurt him.

All he knew was he wanted to you to feel all of him. To make you feel his love and desire for you with every touch, every kiss, and every strong drive of his hips.

The passion and the way you two had been showing it to one another became more carnal as the lust muddled both your brains with nothing but unspoken love and the need to just fuck.

San’s hips picked up their pace. He thrusted and drove into you so deeply, each scrape and glide of his length inside you made his fat cock head kiss your cervix and pound into that one spot that sent you shivering and moaning.

San liked those sounds of yours. Accompanied by the lewd wet squelching and the sound of skin slapping against skin, it was driving him crazy.

“You feel that, sweetheart?” He placed his palm just below where your scar was, where he was fucking you. “That’s me.”

“C-can feel you, Sannie! Oh god,” you cried out, nails digging into his back. You could feel him waking up every fiber of your being with pleasure. “Want to feel more of you. D-don’t stop, please. Want you. I want you.” You were rambling mindlessly too lost in the pleasure, too lost in the heat of his thick cock filling you up.

“I won’t stop, baby. Can’t stop. I need you so bad. You need me to right? Fuck,” he felt you squeeze him tighter. “I’ll make you feel good, Y/N.” He moved his palm lower to find your sensitive pearl all puffy and sticky with your arousal.

Your back arched into him as he massaged your clit.

“You look so beautiful,” he whispered, fucking you til you both get your fill. Even if you both came now, he doesn’t think he’ll have enough of you. He wanted to fuck you so passionately. He wanted to drink what he could of you as this might just be your last night together. “Are you close, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes!” You croaked out, panting with each thrust of his cock. “W-wanna cum, Sannie. P-please.”

“Don’t worry, pretty. I’ll make you cum. I’ll fucking make you cum.” He growled, his hips picking up their pace. Your mouth fell open. The new pace had his cock hitting your g-spot at such a rapid pace you couldn’t think at all. All you knew was you wanted him to keep fucking you.

“H-harder. Need to feel you deeper.” You whined, hugging him close and your words only made the man before you go feral.

The snap of his hips shook your whole body with pleasure that only crescendoed your bliss further into euphoria. That tight knot within your tummy was reaching its limit. With how San was moaning and groaning against your neck, and how his fingers on your clit glided so easily with your slick was sending you over the edge.

You chanted his name over and over so breathlessly, your nails digging deeper into San’s back.

Snap!

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as your walls clamped down around San, your thighs and hips convulsing uncontrollably as pleasure swooped through your body. You couldn’t help the way your nails clawed down his back which made the man before you moan brokenly as his hips stilled and glued against you.

Heat began to fill your walls and your womb as you came hard. San’s thigh muscles were taut as he emptied what he could into you. It was driving him crazy. Your walls were sucking him in a way where his cum just kept flowing til he had nothing more to give you.

“S-Sa—,” you didn’t have to finish calling out for him before he leaned forward to capture your lips. The kiss was slow and lingering…it was gentle and deep.

“I’ve got you,” he said briefly leaving the kiss to take a moment to straighten his back to look at you before him.

You were glowing. Your beautiful skin was covered with a thin sheen of sweat that made you glisten beneath the moonlight and your face was flushed. Your eyes looked up at him hazily, blinking prettily as you were still in your high. His eyes then drifted to where the two of you were still connected. Your puffy lips were split around his cock and you couldn’t help but look down there too.

Slowly, he slid himself out inch by inch. You whimpered at the loss of fullness but when you saw the pink cock head slip out and his length slam against his abdomen coated in your slick and pearly white release? Your walls clenched around nothing. With his thumb, he pulled one of your lower lips gently to get a good look at your pink pussy and his eyes darkened once more when he saw his cum leak out your pulsing hole.

San spread his release all over your pussy, his cat-like eyes curious and staring deeply at where he ‘marked’ you in his way.

“M-more.”

Did he imagine that?

“S-Sannie,” you spread your lips apart for him, making him swallow the lump in his throat. His eyes went to your face, his head spinning when you looked at him with such want and need. Could you look at him like that forever? “M-more. Need to feel you more.”

With San….you never had to ask him twice.

With the same passion and desire as he did earlier if not more, he was on you again. This time the two of you didn’t care about being gentle. You two were desperate for one another. Utterly desperate.

Then you found yourself locked against San with his arm around your waist, your back pressing against his body as he fucked deeply into you without thought. Your bodies were sticky as your shared heat kept you both hot, the cold forgotten as he pounded into you.

You moaned over and over for him, the sound a beautiful melody to his ears.

“I-I don’t think I can stop.” He rasped against your ear, slamming his pelvis against your ass filling your cunt up to the brim with his cock. “I don’t want to stop,” San growled while you cried as he slammed particularly deep, the new position making him reach that spongy spot inside you so fucking easily.

He’s gonna make love to you til you both are absolutely spent. Til he was empty and til you fell apart and had enough of him.

In that little walled-off prison you two were in, the two of you indulged in ways you both could never have during your time in the Academy. Boundaries they programmed into you were broken, lines were crossed and two beating hearts were fully awakened…and for the first time, truly, alive.

Then…when it was done…when that night passed and dawn broke. Those two hearts remained in each other’s arms, embracing one another as they feared for what the morrow would bring.

Not knowing that San would have to keep the promise he kept you.

“You deserve more than this life. You should be able to live freely and to love freely. Leave all this behind. Leave me behind.”

But he wasn’t going to leave you behind.

He could never.

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[pitchsidestories]

Girls Girls Girls II Ingrid Engen x Mapi Leon x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1782

a/n: You guys really came through with so many great requests for Ingrid Engen x Mapi Leon x Reader. We hope you understand that we can't write them all straight away but we'll try to do as many as we can. Based off these two requests. <3

The atmosphere in the Barcelona club was electric. Every movement done inside of it felt like a promise to an eventful evening with endless possibilities. Like a blank canvas waiting to be painted with scenes of the night.

When the clock stroked midnight, Mapi Leon curiously asked her girlfriend while nodding in the direction you were standing: “Have you seen the beauty over there?”

“Are you talking about the girl sitting at the bar?”, Ingrid Engen wanted to know smirking. The Spanish woman replied grinning:” Yes, the one with an old-fashioned in her hands.”  

“She’s gorgeous.”, the midfielder admitted blushing at the sight of you in a stunningly black jumpsuit.  

Innocently Mapi played with a loose string of her hair:” Her glass seems almost empty; do you think we should talk to her?” “I think we should order her a new one.”, the Norwegian suggested warmly.

Enthusiastically the older woman responded:” Yes, I agree.” “I’ll order.”, Ingrid decided. Smiling sweetly at her girlfriend the Spaniard answered: “Thanks.” Afterwards she approached you with a flirty smile:” Hi.”  

“Oh hi.”, you gazed surprised at the two very beautiful women in front of you. Interested the tattooed one wanted to know:” Enjoying your drink?”

“Yes, I know the barkeeper, she and I go to the same Uni, so she always makes something special out of it.”, you told her. She acknowledged that remark with a lifted eyebrow:” Oh, you do?”

“Yes.”, your cheeks turned hot under their attentive eyes. Casually Mapi went on:” What are you studying?” “The arts, I love to paint.”, you answered passionately.

Delighted the Spanish woman muttered:” So you’re an artist.” “I am. Your tattoos are so pretty. What are you and your girlfriend doing? Sorry, I think you’ve not told me your names yet.”, nervously you licked your lips.

 The older woman of the two introduced themselves: “I’m Mapi and that’s Ingrid.” “Nice to meet you both, I’m y/n.”, you remarked in an honest tone.  

A big smile lit up Ingrid’s face: “Nice to meet you too.” “Thanks for the drink.”, you mumbled gratefully lifting you glass with them before taking each a deep sip. Cheerfully the Norwegian waved it off: ”You’re welcome.”

After you three savoured your drinks, Mapi confidently took your and her girlfriend’s hand:” Do you want to dance with us?” “Sure.”, the liquor making you bold in your reply to her question.

Happily, Ingrid got up from the chair she was sitting on a few seconds ago: “Really?”  “Yes, let’s go to the dance floor.”, you said self-assured.

The defender couldn’t help but to observe the reaction of your Uni friend:”Your barkeeper friend doesn’t look amused.” “Oh. But she’s in a relationship.”, you promptly explained.

A sign of relief crossed the older woman’s face:” So she’s got nothing to worry about.” “Exactly.” “Come on.”, impatiently Ingrid pulled both of you to the place people were already dancing.

“Coming!“ You immediately started moving to the music. The rhythm of your bodies in perfect synchronisation. You completely lost focus of your own body, captivated by Ingrids elegant and Mapis more powerful movements.

Mapi winked at you, pulling you close so she could whisper in your ear; “An artist and a good dancer as well.“ You bit back a smile, relieved that your reddening cheeks wouldn’t be visible in the dim light; “You two are not bad either.“

“For football players maybe.“, Ingrid added with a laugh. “Football players?“, you echoed in surprise. “Yes, for FC Barcelona.“, Mapi stated calmly. Your knowledge about football might have been limited but you did know about the Catalan club.

Lost for words, you could only mumble; “Wow.“ Ingrid used your moment of speechlessness to change the subject. “Want to come with us to our place?“, she asked, a carefulness in her voice in case she crossed a line. “Sure.“, you answered without hesitation.

Smiling, Mapi took your hand in hers; “Don’t worry. We won’t do anything you don’t want to do.“ “No, I want to come with you. Really.“, you assured her, shaking your head. You refused to let the night end that early.

Ingrid took your other hand; “We should leave then.“ “Yes, let’s go.“, Mapi agreed, leading you both out of the bar after you gathered your jackets and purses.

You were surprised when they opened the door to their apartment to you. It was modern and chic but also very homely at the same time. You immediately felt welcome; “Your apartment is beautiful.“

“Thanks. Ingrid decorated it.“, Mapi grinned proudly. Her girlfriend cheeks went pink; “For the most part.“ “Almost the whole part.“, the defender corrected her amused. You let your gaze wander around the room for a bit longer and commented; “I love it.“

“I know it’s late but would you like some coffee?“, Ingrid offered politely. You smiled; “Yes, I’d like one.“ “I’ll make you one.“ “Thank you.“ “No problem.“, Ingrid waved it off and got to work. You sat down at their kitchen table. While you waited, you took out your notebook and started scribbling into it.

Some of your creative energy needed an outlet. You failed to realise that Mapi took the chair opposite you and watched you draw. Only when her beringed hand reached out for the page, you looked up at her. “Can I see it?“, she asked innocently.

Quickly, you covered your sketches with a hand; “No, I’m not done yet.“ Mapi tried again, giving you her best puppy eyes; “Come on.“ “Later, promise.“ “You should know that I’m very impatient.“, she warned you jokingly. You laughed; “Oh, I’ve noticed.“

“Hey. Rude!“, the defender complained. Ingrid gave her girlfriend a knowing look as she set down three cups of coffee; “No, it’s true.“ Mapis jaw dropped in feigned offense; “Ingrid!“ “Yes?“

But before the couple could continue to bicker, you closed your notebook and wrapped your hands around the mug; “Thanks for the coffee.“ “You’re welcome.“, Ingrid smiled sweetly.

After you tasted the coffee, you announced:” It’s delicious.”   “Do you want to stay overnight?”, the defender asked you curiously. Her and the Norwegian looked expectantly at you when you exclaimed:” Sure. Why not?” “Perfect.”, Ingrid sighed. B

Blushing you mumbled:” “If that’s okay with you.” “It’s.”, the midfielder nodded placing a light kiss on your lips sealing the oral invitation to stay tonight at their place.

Instinctively one hand went to your lips which were still buzzing from the excitement: ”I’ll stay then.” Gleefully Mapi clapped into her hands before kissing you aswell:” We hoped you’d say yes.”

In the morning the Spanish woman noticed, her voice still full of sleep:” Ingrid, she’s gone.”  “Yes, but she left a note with her number, she had to go to uni.”, the younger football player explained, showing her the note you left, on the other side was the sketch you did of them the previous night.

Impressed Mapi whispered:” So that’s what she was working on.” “It’s stunning.”, Ingrid admitted beaming. Suddenly wide awake the defender told her:” Give me her number. I’m going to text her.”  “Here you go.”, the midfielder responded cheerfully.

Pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, the Spanish woman replied:” Thanks.” “Did you ask her to come to our next match?”, a hopeful smile was on Ingrid’s lips.

Cheekily Mapi grinned at her: “Maybe.” More serious she added:” It just feels right with her, right?” “It does.”, the Norwegian nodded, pressing a kiss on to her girlfriend’s head.

Since that fateful night at the bar, you’ve met Mapi and Ingrid quite a few times, so naturally you accepted their invitation to come to one of their game, the defender was still injured, while the midfielder was in the starting line of today’s match.

In a low voice Jana Fernadez spoke to you after you sat down next to her:”Y/N, have you seen the photo of you three in the car going around on the internet?” “What? No, I didn’t.”, you answered stunned by that news.

Seriously the younger woman continued:” You might want to look it up.” “Thanks for telling me, Jana.”, you muttered. She gave you an empathetic smile and a pad on the shoulder:” You’re welcome.”

Only a couple of minutes later Mapi showed up with two drinks in her hands, one for her and the other for you, the defender was quickly followed by Alexia:”What did Jana show you?”

“This, they took photos of us three and put them online.”, you revealed, showing her what Jana had hinted at not that long ago. “Wait, let me see.”, Mapi urged you and took a closer look on what the photos were picturing. “Here.”

Mapis brows furrowed as she took in the clear photo of you three together. There was a hint of worry in her eyes when she turned to you; “I’m sorry. I don’t know how or when they took that.“ “We need to tell Ingrid.“, you decided, too many thoughts rushing through your head.

Again, the defender tried to catch your eye; “Ingrid will be fine but how do you feel about it?“ You shook your head, replying blankly; “I’m good.“ “Are you sure?“ “Yes, what do you think?“, you asked her.

Mapi tilted her head before answering; “I don’t mind people knowing that I’m with two pretty girls.“

“And me neither.“, Ingrids voice interjected. She smiled softly at the two of you, her hair still damp from the shower she took after the game. Mapi laughed; “I told you she won’t mind.“

You were silent for a few seconds, only now realising that these two people loved having you in their lives as you loved having them in yours. “Let’s put our own picture out there.“, Ingrid suggested, turning on the front camera of her phone. You smiled; “Alright.“

“Yes, come here. Let’s take on.“, Mapi said and pulled Ingrid towards her. With you in the middle, the two football player pressed kisses on your cheeks for the photo.

Proudly, Ingrid showed you the shots. “Okay, should we title it Girls Girls Girls?“, you asked with a smirk. The Norwegian smiled back at you; “What’s more fitting than that?“ “Yes, we’ll take that one.“, Mapi agreed, taking her girlfriends phone and hitting the post button.

There was nothing you could do but stare at the two women you had come to love so easily. The buzz of your phone in your pocket tore you out of your trance.

It was the first like on your post and it was from your bartending friend who watched you three leave on the first night you met. With a grin you thought back of the happy coincidences that led up to this moment. It must have been fate.