#but im Worn Out so maybe tomorrow!

[virgoevenus]

showing up to the function depressed and anxious as fuck

[asahicore]

cherry pits - psh (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact

pairing. dad!sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis. Your alarmingly empty bank account forces you to find a last-minute summer job so that you can afford a trip with your friends. The extremely handsome customer that comes into the store just happens to be a young single dad who's renovating the old house next to yours. The tension that settles between the two of you as you start helping him fix up his house soon becomes unbearable, but it's all one-sided anyway, right?

(Spoiler: wrong.)

genre. DILF AUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!, neighbors au, s2l, summer au, slight age gap (reader is 21 and hoon 26), reader is so down bad over sunghoon its actually crazy but also extremely relatable cause this is sunghoon we're talking about, fluff and smut, sex gets freakyyy ngl

word count. 12.9k

a/n. hey sisters had no time to write anything this week so i am coming back (everybody boos) with a repost yayyy!!! i actually love this story idkw i just find it fun so i hope you guys will enjoy rereading / reading it !!!! as always let me know ur thoughts.. even if they're just incomprehensible screaming (bad or good).. im happy w anything ok bye!!!

You’ve always wondered about the ratio of cherry to pit. Such a big pit for so little flesh, isn’t it? Yet that’s never stopped you from biting into the small fruit, eating what you could and spitting out the unwanted part. You actually rather enjoy this whole process. Bite, eat, spit. You could repeat this with huge bowls of cherries at a time until they upset your stomach and you had to stop for your own good.

Bite, eat, spit is exactly what you’re doing when, with a trembling finger, you finally brave to open your banking app and check your balance. It’s the beginning of summer, and after two semesters of intense studying and too-much-coffee drinking, you think you deserve three long months of doing nothing but hanging out in your childhood bedroom and eating the food your parents buy and make. You’re especially looking forward to the vacation in Mexico you have planned with your friends at the end of August.

One look at your bank account and your dreams of white beaches and seas so blue you couldn’t tell them apart from the sky shatter around you, the sad, low numbers on the screen sneering at you mockingly. You were sure you had saved enough money from part-time jobs and generous relatives, but now you regret all of those night-outs and lazy takeaways. If you had cut down on those, maybe you wouldn’t have to go through the hassle of finding a summer job at the last minute, which you would definitely have to do if you wanted to eat something on that dear beach of yours and not just starve to death under the glaring sun.

That was it - tomorrow, you’d go and get a job. Today, however, you’d enjoy your last day of respite and eat some more cherries, or maybe make some jam and a pie so your parents wouldn’t chide you for eating them all, and then go pick some more from the three trees in your backyard. You’d sit outside, enjoying the warmth of the sun while you read or, if you couldn’t be asked, while you listened to the bustle of the old and worn-down house next door being renovated. You’re surprised someone had the courage to buy it and give it a new life, but you assume that’s the kind of courage that comes with having time and money. 

Yesterday night, you’d heard a little girl playing outside until her mom called her in saying it was time to go, so you made up a story of your neighbors being newlyweds that had decided they’d had enough of the city and wanted to raise their daughter in a calmer town far from busy streets and loud honks. You could bring them some cherries, maybe in jam or pie form, as a housewarming gift.

Unfortunately, the day passed and you were too busy doing nothing to actually get around to baking, so you decided to do nothing some more and then go to bed, needing rest before your big job hunt.

You’d gravely overestimated the amount of job opportunities in your small hometown, only receiving apologetic looks from the store owners as they tell you they don’t need any help, or worse, already have someone. Damn those 16-year-olds who only get summer jobs so they can blow their whole pay in a couple weeks before school starts again. You, on the other hand, need that money for important things, like sipping on a cocktail at a bar with a seaview.

The local hardware store next to the train station is your saving grace. It looks quite small from the outside, but once you step inside, rows of lamps and mirrors in all shapes and sizes along with all kinds of household needs welcome you, followed by a section for gardening and pet caretaking. The basement is where all the paints and brushes were, as well as the more technical (technical to you, at least) products, like bolts and tools or kitchen and bathroom appliances.

A lot of people undertake renovations in their homes during their free time in the summer, so it’s important for the store to have their experts helping out customers in their dedicated aisles rather than working behind the till and restocking the shelves, which is what you will be doing for the next two months. The pay is slightly above minimum wage and with twenty-one hours of work a week, you’ll earn more than enough to enjoy your vacation. You start tomorrow.

Your co-workers are happy to welcome a new face into their team. They’re nice even if they have the tendency to drone on about different types of tools and the importance of choosing the right brush for the surface you’re painting, which you don’t particularly care about, but you think you might as well learn as much as you can during your time here; it might always come in handy later.

As you expected, it isn’t the most stimulating job ever, but you aren’t bored out of your mind either. You make small talk with customers as they explain their purchases, some more defensively than others, even if you didn’t ask. You make sure to restock the shelves correctly and sometimes ask for help when you feel your arms giving out after hours of carrying heavy stuff. When no one’s in, you like to rearrange the cute bathroom decorations so that they make a little rainbow of toothbrush and soap holders.

You were daydreaming about what you would do with your friends in Mexico and all the cherries you could eat there when a man so handsome you thought he was a part of your dream walks in. He doesn’t notice (or maybe he just ignores it, you’re not sure) your gawking and smiles at you, saying “hello” before turning his attention to the map which details where everything is stored at the entrance of the shop. You manage a small “h-hello” back that probably doesn’t even reach his ears, and you curse yourself for doing a poor job of greeting a customer just because said customer looks like he’s been pushed from the heavens above onto this unworthy earth by the other angels who were jealous of his beauty. 

You stay put behind the counter the whole time he’s there to avoid the potential embarrassment of running into him in a random aisle and making a fool of yourself. There isn’t much to do anyway, so you rearrange the organic protein bars and chewing-gum at the counter and count all the money in the cash register to distract yourself. He doesn’t spend a very long time browsing and after twenty minutes, you see him approach with a cart full of the biggest cans of paint the store offers. It’s mostly white paint, but there are some browns and grays, and one of pink as well.

You thank God for those twenty minutes because they allowed you to get a hold of yourself so that you didn’t gape at him like a dead fish instead of scanning his articles, which is what you are very professionally and expertly doing. “That’s a lot of paint,” you comment lightheartedly, partly just to prove to yourself that you can also speak in front of this man.

“I know,” he chuckles, and it seems unfair that his voice should be just as attractive as his face. “The previous owners of the house I just bought had terrible taste in wallpaper and wall colors, so I have to repaint basically the whole house. Everything has to go, really. The floors, the furniture, the lights.”

“Sounds like you’re going to have a busy summer. That’ll be $132.76, please.”

“I’ll pay by card,” he says as he brings his wallet out from his back pocket and inserts his card into the reader, which allows you to look freely at his tanned arms and the veins that protrude here and there. He can’t be older than thirty, so there’s probably not that much of an age difference between the two of you, but damn does he look more mature in the sexiest way possible than all of the male college students you’re used to seeing on a daily basis. If anything, he reminds you of the hot young Linguistics professor your whole department likes to drool over. 

The beep of the payment being accepted snaps you out of your daze. “And yeah, it’ll sure be a busy summer. I’ll need a lot of stuff from here, so you might have to get used to seeing me around,” he says with a smile that makes your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this walking Greek god of a man is actually flirting with you, but the glint in his eyes tells you it wasn’t just an off-hand comment.

“I could get used to that,” you surprise yourself by replying confidently, your smile mirroring his as pretty dimples appear on each side of his face.

You hand him the receipt and notice his eyes flickering down to your name tag before trapping yours in his gaze once again. You don’t think you ever want to look away. “I’ll see you around, Y/N,” he says and walks out with his cart and his tons of paint before you can say anything, lest ask his name, except for “see you.”

You take a deep breath in and another out when he’s out of sight, trying to calm your racing heart. You can’t wait to rave to the girls’ group chat about this, but one of your coworkers calls you for help and you have to put the handsome stranger to the back of your mind for a while.

—

That weekend, your parents ask you to do something about the cherries slowly starting to spoil in the fridge, so you put on your headphones and listen to an audiobook for entertainment, then get to pitting. It feels wrong to listen to The Kiss Quotient and its many smut scenes when your parents are coming and going out of the room, but what they don’t know won’t kill them; you just try to keep your reactions to a minimum during the extra spicy scenes.

Pitting cherries is an arduous task that always takes longer than you think it will, but you never complain about it. You’ve found the perfect technique of cutting them in half around the pit, turning the small fruit without squeezing it, extracting the stone and making sure it doesn’t get confused and end up in the bowl with the pitted cherries, all without tiring your wrists after ten minutes. A surprise pit in a cherry pie can add to the charm of a homemade dessert, but you’d rather not have to spit out five of them while trying to eat one slice.

You prepare a crumbly dough to make two classic American-style pies and fill four jars with cherry jam that you cook while the doughs rest. It’s almost offensive how small the cherries become as they cook, the amount that fills those four jars having filled eight before, but you decide there’s no reason to take it personally since the cherries don’t do it on purpose, and put the jars away to cool down. You roll out the first rested dough and despair for a bit when it keeps on falling apart, but it just makes it more satisfying once you have it perfectly thinly rolled out and covering the tin. The second one is a bit nicer to you and you only have to try rolling it out twice. 

Two hours later, as the sun finally starts to relent and a cooler breeze flows through the air, the pies are all baked, cooled and ready to be eaten. You leave one for you and your parents to enjoy later, then head over to the next house to greet your new neighbors with the other pie. You knock and wait for a good thirty seconds before getting any sort of response, making you think no one’s in.

“Y/N?” a semi-familiar voice calls out, and your head whips in its direction. If this were a cartoon or a 2012 teen show, you’d probably drop the pie tin, but thankfully, your hands aren’t that sweaty, and the shock of the man from the other day at the store being your neighbor isn’t that great, because of course, of course he’s your neighbor. You’re Y/N, after all; the almighty gods above would never let you have a boring, uneventful summer. Of course the hot new man in town is your neighbor.

“Oh! Hi! Guess we’re neighbors. Ha,” you say with a clumsy smile, holding the tin over your forearm as your other hand shields your eyes from the sunlight so you can look at him without squinting your eyes.

“Neighbors?” he repeats as he joins you on the front porch, taking off his gloves dirtied by the mud and using the back of his hand to wipe off some sweat from his forehead. The sweat makes his hair stick to his face and there are small beads of it falling from his hairline down onto his white t-shirt. You detect the slightest of stubbles on his chin and upper lip, probably from not having shaved for just a day or two. He’s even tanner than when you saw him a few days ago, and his thick eyebrows form a straight line as he frowns in what you guess is tiredness and perhaps confusion from seeing you in regular clothes and holding a pie tin on his porch. For a second, you’re scared he might think you’re some kind of stalker, but you nod and tilt your head towards your house. 

“Yep. That one just over there behind you.”

He turns his upper body to take a look at your house and nods slowly as he turns back around, gaze finding yours again like the other day at the store. You have no idea who this man is - hell, you don’t even know his name - but good lord are you attracted to him, especially when he gives you that unreadable smile that shows off his dimples. 

“Huh. What a coincidence,” he says, and that could mean anything in the world, but you hope he means it in a good way. “I’m Sunghoon, by the way.” he adds, extending his hand for you to take, which you do, and the simple action of shaking his hand without eye contact ever breaking is enough to send shivers down your spine. Hopefully, this goes unnoticed by this Sunghoon.

A walking wet dream. That’s what this man is. He’s walked right out of your deepest Wattpad-induced fantasies and into the house next door. Probably doesn’t help that you’d been listening to literary porn just fifteen minutes prior. 

“Is that pie?” he asks as he releases your hand.

“It is, cherry pie I made myself with cherries from our backyard. A housewarming gift, if you will. Here,” you reply, offering him the tin.

He takes it from your hands, the tips of his fingers slightly grazing yours, on purpose or not, you’re not sure. He lifts some of the aluminum covering the pie and peeks underneath, then hums appreciatively. “Thanks, it looks really good. I’ve been living off of ready-meals and casseroles from the neighbors, so this’ll be really nice.”

“Well we’ve got tons of cherries, so feel free to ask whenever you want some,” you offer, and he nods. A small silence settles between the two of you and you’re about to excuse yourself so it doesn’t get awkward when he invites you in, asking if you’d like to have a piece with him.

“If you want to, I mean. I was gonna take a break anyway,” he says somewhat coyly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. You’re surprised to see him being anything else other than confident and self-assured, but it only makes him look cuter in your eyes.

“Sure,” you accept with a smile, letting him lead you inside the house.

“Sorry, it smells like paint all over the house. That’s why I was outside, doing some gardening while I aired the house out,” he explains. “Let me just get some plates and a knife out. And something for us to drink. Do you want to drink something? I’ve got water, or some iced tea or lemonade. The grandma across the street made some for me,” he says all at once, and you suppress a giggle at his sudden nervous behavior.

“Sunghoon?”

“Yeah?” he responds almost immediately, turning to you just as you both reach the kitchen.

“Just water is fine.”

A shy smile makes his dimples appear once again as he nods. “Okay, sounds good.” You help him carry everything to the back porch and set down the glasses and a jug of water on a table with two chairs around it.

“The porches are the only parts I won’t have to fix up too much, for some reason.”

“You’re going to redo the whole house yourself?” you ask, surprised, as you pour two glasses of water and he serves you a slice of cherry pie (“there might be some stray cherry pits, so be careful,” you warn as he sets a slice on his plate).

“A lot of it, yeah, but I’ve also got some people to help out. My dad’s a carpenter so I know my way around these things, but I also know it’s better and faster to have more than one man on the job, so some guys he works with come a couple times a week.”

“Yeah, with the state this house is in, you’d need more than a summer if you did everything yourself,” you comment, and he chuckles, agreeing. “My friends and I used to make stories about how this place is haunted, you know,” you say jokingly.

“Please don’t jinx my house from the get-go,” he says, making you laugh.

“Sorry, sorry. It’ll be nice seeing it all fixed-up, actually.”

“Have you lived here long?” he asks, looking at you thoughtfully as he takes another bite of the pie. “This is really good, by the way.”

“Thanks. And yeah, my whole life. I go away when semester starts but come back for the holidays and the summer.”

“So you're a student?”

“Yeah, just at the state university a few hours away. Not too far away that it’s a hassle traveling back, but not too close that I go home every weekend. What about you, what do you do?”

You wait for his answer while he swallows his mouthful and take another bite yourself. “I teach,” he starts as he dabs the corners of his lips with a napkin. “Fifth graders, on the other side of town. I used to live in a small apartment near the school I work at but it’s nicer, having more space. I saved enough money to buy this house and fix it up, so here I am now,” he says, gesturing to the house and the garden with his arms. 

You notice his use of the first person pronoun when he talks about where he used to live and his house now, which makes you wonder if it’s just him, even though you were sure you heard a woman and a young girl’s voices the other day. Surely, if he wasn’t single, he wouldn’t have invited you in or given you flirtatious looks, right? Or were you reading totally wrong into this and he was just an exceptionally friendly person?

You put these questions to the side and continue chatting with Sunghoon, letting the subject of his marital status come up on its own during your conversation. And indeed, you get your answer when he tells you about the different parts of the house he plans on having, one of them being a bedroom for his daughter.

“Oh, so you have a daughter? How old is she?” you ask as you take a sip of water, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. Considering his age, you expect that his child will be one, two years old max, so his answer makes you almost choke on your drink.

“She’s turning eight this summer.”

“Eight?” you repeat as you set your glass down, looking at him wide-eyed. So much for nonchalance. “But you’re so-”

“Young? Yeah, I know,” he interrupts with a knowing smile, probably used to this kind of reaction. “I’m 26,” he adds, then watches as you do the simple math in your head. When you turn to him with a surprised look, he answers your question before you’ve even asked it. “Yep, I had her when I was 18.”

“Wow,” is all you can say. “Can I ask what happened?”

“Sure. I mean, it’s nothing extraordinary or anything. I was in my last year of high school, and I got my girlfriend at the time pregnant. We’d only been dating four months but her parents wouldn’t let her get an abortion. They’re really religious. They took care of our baby, with the help of my parents, while I went to community college and she retook senior year since she had to drop out halfway through the year. No, we’re not together anymore, if you’re wondering,” he says, catching you off guard, as if he’d read your thoughts. 

He chuckles before sighing and continues. “If none of this had happened, we’d probably have broken up before going off to college and proceeded to forget about each other. We started out living with her parents, then got that small apartment I told you about when she found a job. We’re not on bad terms by any means, but we’ve just not been in love since Chaeryeong turned 2, probably. We’ve been more roommates than a couple for the past six years. And you know, we kept on living together for Chaer mainly, but she’s found a new boyfriend and I wanted to have my own place. Which has led me here.”

You nod slowly, letting the whole story sink in. “You’re both handling this situation really maturely, it sounds like. I’ve heard of so many teenage parents fighting all the time and not taking care of their kids properly.”

“She’s already got a weird parental situation, it’s the least we can do for her to behave like adults, you know.”

“Right, of course,” you say, nodding again. Your hot new neighbor was actually a DILF, you realized a bit inappropriately, perhaps. Cherry on top.

He tells you a bit more about his daughter and you keep talking until your dad calls you, asking you why you’re not home at dinner time, and you only notice then how long you’ve been sitting there with Sunghoon, just talking. You tell him you feel bad for taking up so much of his time but he shakes your apologies off.

“It was my pleasure, really. And thanks again for the pie, I think Chaer will love it.”

He walks you to the front door and calls out your name after you’ve waved goodbye and started walking. You didn’t know you had been expecting him to do anything until you heard the hopeful tone in your own voice. “Yeah?”

“You any good with kids?” he asks, leaning against the doorway with crossed arms and a smirk that makes your heart flutter.

Although you’ve only got one older brother, you have younger cousins as well as older ones that have babies of their own, so you’re not a complete stranger to kids, but more importantly, you like them. They have the world to learn, but they say surprisingly smart things and have really cute faces.

“I’d say that I am, yeah,” you reply, a smile growing on your face, mirroring his expression.

“Good,” he says, and pauses a second for good measure. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you later, Sunghoon,” you say as you turn back and head to your house, letting him enjoy the view of you walking away. 

On the short way home, you realize that you completely have the hots for your neighbor, although you probably knew that before. Is it twisted that you like him more now that you know he’s got a kid? Probably a little bit, but you’re not going to fight it. He’s single, after all. And not even thirty. A five-year gap isn’t unheard of. 

Your parents ask you where you’ve been as you set the table and get ready for dinner. “Just over at our new neighbor’s house to give him some pie and say hi,” you say as you toss the salad in its bowl, spreading the dressing evenly. 

“Ooh, the neighbor,” your mother echoes knowingly, wiggling her eyebrows, and steals a leaf of lettuce when it falls from the bowl because of your vigorous tossing. “We should have him over at some point, welcome him into the neighborhood. I’ve seen him a bit, you know. Out painting on his front porch or when he was in his garden the same time as me. He’s a very attractive young man,” she says, lowering her voice so your dad doesn’t hear even though he’s outside grilling the meat. “Do you know how old he is? Looks a bit young for a homeowner to me, but who knows what young people are up to these days.

“He’s twenty-six, and he’s saved a lot of money. Plus, I don’t think that house was very expensive. From what he’s told me, the renovations will basically cost as much as the house itself. He’s also got a kid.”

“Aw, must be a cute baby,” she says as your father walks in, carrying a tray of steaming barbecued steaks and potatoes.

“She’s eight,” you say bluntly, causing them both to look at you with wide eyes.

“Oh, right, then. Happens,” your mother says, bringing her glass of water to her lips and taking a sip from it. “Is he still with the mother?”

“They broke up a while ago, but they’re on good terms,” you say, and your mom nods slowly at the information.

“So, he’s single, huh?” she says, trying to hide her smile, earning herself a groan from your dad and a chuckle from you. 

“C’mon, mom!”

“What? You can’t deny that he’s attractive, and he’s single. Plus, you two must get along well if you spent a couple hours talking. Sure, he’s got a kid, but you love those, don’t you?”

“Mom, you of all people would know kids aren’t pets. Dating someone with an eight-year-old isn’t the same as dating someone with a cat.

“No one’s asking you to be that girl’s mom,” she says, dishing out some meat for the three of you. “I’d go get that man, if I were you.”

Your dad shakes his head and you eat your food as you listen to them bickering with a smile. You think about what your mother said - should you go and get Sunghoon? Your heart says yes, but your brain is a bit more reluctant. Another part of your body, lower down there, is screaming ‘yes’ at you.

He does live right by, after all.

That night, you FaceTime your roommate and best friend from college and bring her up to date about ‘the hot man from the store the other day.’ She paints her toenails but listens intently as she always does when you talk about boys, humming and chuckling here and there.

“God, Y/N, I didn’t know you had daddy issues, of all things.”

You gasp fake-dramatically. “Excuse me, I do not! I was attracted to him before I knew he was a dad, I’ll let you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let me know when you guys actually hook up, I’m curious whether older men are actually better,” she says, making you scoff.

“I hope he is. I’m very much tired of those boys that don’t know where the clit is and use too much tongue.”

“You know, when I complain to my mom about guys, she always tells me to wait it out a few years. She says they get more mature and, well, she didn’t say that outright, but she very heavily implied that the sex is much, much better. Kinda gross hearing it from her, but it’s good information.”

You hum. “Well, he’s not that much older… But let’s hope that it still makes a difference,” you say, and then move on to another topic. 

—

One thing that eating cherries has taught you is that if you want to enjoy eating the sweet flesh, you’ll need to deal with the pit as well. Ever the grand philosopher, you realized soon enough that this was applicable to real life and not just your favorite fruit. Wanna get a good grade on your test? Gotta study for it. Wanna go on holiday to Mexico? Gotta find a summer job and earn money.

Wanna make your way to Sunghoon’s bed? Gotta seduce him.

Over the following days, you stand behind the counter at the hardware store, elbow perched on the hard surface, head resting on your palm and vision fuzzy as you daydream about your next encounter with Sunghoon. More often than not, a customer will clear their throat to awkwardly let you know of their presence and you’ll have to exchange your imagined dialogue with Sunghoon for a quick apology and some pleasantries; more often than not, a coworker will call out your name for some help just as you get to the juicy part of your reverie. In those moments, you always feel like you’ve been caught red-handed watching softcore porn, even if no one knows the last thing about what goes on in your head, nor do they care. 

Much like the first time he walked into the store, when he does again on a Thursday morning, you think your daydreams have just gone too far and you’re now hallucinating. But, lo and behold, this is the true Park Sunghoon in the flesh, and he smiles and waves at you as he strides in before disappearing behind one of the many aisles.

You spend the next fifteen minutes going over witty conversation starters that will surely make him fall for you, only for you to stutter out a “h-hi, Sunghoon,” when he finally reaches the counter.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he jokes, and you laugh a bit too hard for a comment that isn’t that funny.

“How are the renovations going?” you ask as you scan his articles - some more paint and brushes, lots of tile glue, a bunch of nails and two different sizes of turnscrews. He frowns in concentration at the snacks next to the counter until he caves in and gets a chocolate protein bar that’s more sugar than protein. 

“Pretty okay,” he starts. “I’m in a bit of a rush, cause Chaer is already coming in two weeks and I need to have finished at least the interior by that time. My dad’s friends helped me get the roof done, so that’s good, but now they’re all busy with other sites so it's just me. Right now I’m redoing the tiles in the bathrooms. You need so much damn glue,” he says with a chuckle.

You think for a second, then timidly offer, “I could help out, you know. If you needed me to.” 

He looks at you with raised eyebrows, halfway through getting his card out of his wallet. “Really?”

“I mean, I don’t have much experience with this kinda stuff, but I’ve picked up a few things here and there from working here. If it saves you time, I could do the easy things. This job isn’t particularly physically demanding so I’ve still got energy at the end of the day. That’s $78.96, please.”

A small smile appears on his face as he inserts his card into the reader. He punches in his code and then returns your gaze. “That could be nice, actually.”

And that’s how you find yourself over at Sunghoon’s house in denim shorts and your dad’s old t-shirts almost everyday for the next two weeks, helping him fix up the old two-storey home. He measures out the perfect length for wood planks or marble tiles that you assist him in fastening to the floors of different rooms and he fixes holes in walls that you paint over afterwards. Sometimes on your breaks, you share a bowl of cherries that you brought from your garden. (One morning, you tried to make cherry juice out of them, but when after almost two hours of pitting the liquid barely filled a glass, you decided that it was too much effort and that you’d keep on just eating them and baking the occasional pie.) You asked him to tell you what each of the rooms upstairs would be and you realized that the window of his room faced yours directly. The blinds were down as they had always been, so you hadn’t known what the room would be.

“I’ve been sleeping on the couch since I haven’t gotten around to fixing up this room yet. Guess I should get to it, though,” he says, giving you a look that blurs the meaning of his words so that you’re not sure what he’s implying, which happens a bit too often with Sunghoon.

And you’d think that spending the better part of two weeks with the current man of your dreams would be amazing, right? 

Wrong. It’s unbearable.

Maybe that’s exaggerating it - it’s mostly fun, and sometimes unbearable. Usually, you’re an avid fan of sexual tension, especially with attractive men like Sunghoon. Lingering gazes, eye contacts when there shouldn’t be any, remarks with a deeper meaning that they let on, barely-there touches on the back of your hand or on your waist that manage to take your breath away. These are all very fine things that keep your heart bouncing and a blush on your cheeks, but they are supposed to amount to something more in the end. Maybe you’re impatient, but after two weeks of sending sex through your eyes to Sunghoon, you get the feeling that he doesn’t reciprocate your desire. One afternoon, you’d made sure to go and sunbathe in your bikini at the exact moment he was doing some work outside, and even then, he merely gave your body a one-over and disappeared a few minutes later inside his house. When he came back about ten minutes later, he could still barely look at you.

At the same time, there’s no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing when he stands close behind you, letting you feel the warmth of his chest against your back, big, rough hands enveloping yours as he demonstrates how to cut a plank of wood with the machine. There’s no way the way he smirks when the action turns you into a stammering mess is innocent, either.

Yet nothing happens. The tension is thick enough to be cut with a knife, but maybe Sunghoon hasn’t bought cutlery yet. The air is already heavy from the heat and the relentlessness of the sun, but this thing between you and him makes it almost suffocating, in somehow the best yet worst way possible. You’re this close to simply throwing your naked body at him, and it doesn’t help that you see his flexing, working muscles and beads of sweat on his hairline everyday. On the days he wears shorts, which is most days, all you can think of is getting off on his thick thighs, of his hands holding you tightly by the waist, of the way he’d look at you, eyes clouded over, of the words he’d whisper in your-

Your phone buzzes, interrupting you in your horny downward spiral. It’s your dear mother telling you to come home for dinner. As you pick up your phone, a second buzz. Ask Sunghoon if he wants to eat with us. 

You find him in his bedroom, adding the last touches to the walls. “I think I’ll be able to sleep here starting tomorrow night. I just need to go buy a bed,” he says when he sees your figure standing in the doorway.

“We can go together if you want,” you blurt before you can stop yourself. Hoping it’ll make you seem less weird, you add, “I’ve got really good taste in furniture.”

“Is that so?” he questions, turning to you with a smile. “I’d appreciate the second pair of eyes, actually. There’s a lot of things I need to get.”

“Yeah, I didn’t wanna comment on it, but I think you’ll end up needing more than a couch, a plastic dining table and two chairs,” you tease, making him roll his eyes lightheartedly. “We can go to that huge second-hand store they have just outside of town. You’ll be surprised how good - and cheap - the furniture is there.”

“Sounds good,” he nods, and checks his watch. “Are you going home?”

“I am. My mom’s invited you over for dinner, if you’d like,” you say, tilting your head at him.

He raises his eyebrows in delighted surprise. “I’d love to. Just need to shower first.”

“That’s fine. I’ll go home, just come over whenever you’re ready.” You exchange quick see you laters and you head home, taking a shower yourself and making sure to use your best-smelling body lotion.

Sunghoon arrives half an hour later with a bouquet of roses in his hands and an award-winning smile on his face. You let him in and he greets your parents, offering your mother the bouquet. “Sorry I took so much time getting here, I wanted to pick these out as a thank you.”

You can tell your mother is pleased to the heavens as she waves him off, leading him inside your house. “That’s awfully nice of you, Mr Park-”

“Call me Sunghoon, please,” he says with a warm smile.

“Right, Sunghoon. And no worries, you’re just on time. Please, sit.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Oh, no, you’re working all day fixing up that house, just sit and relax. We’re very happy to have you over, aren’t we?” your mother says, sending a very obvious smile your way, which makes you furrow your eyebrows and shake your head lightly at her, silently telling her to shut up. Sunghoon chuckles at the exchange but says nothing and you want to bury yourself and your mother ten feet underground.

Sunghoon sits across from you at the dinner table, which allows you to stare unabashedly at him as he works his charm on your parents. He’s the neighbor, so technically, he’s not a boyfriend you brought home to meet them, but still, you can’t help but compare him to those few boys that you did bring home. None of them were a disaster, but none of them went as smoothly as this, either. There were always some awkward silences and dry chuckles with your past boyfriends, but Sunghoon clearly knows how to make parents happy. Maybe because he lived with his ex’s parents for so long, or maybe because he’s a parent himself. Either way, it only adds to your desire to take all of his clothes and let him rail you into next week. Too bad he clearly doesn’t feel the same way, you remind yourself with an audible sigh, which makes him look curiously at you, but you brush it off with a smile.

You watch as he accepts a beer, compliments the food and the house, talks football with your dad, accepts another beer, and shares teaching anecdotes with your mom, who herself is an elementary school teacher. You jump in every now and then when you have something witty to add or someone asks your opinion on something, but most of the time, you sit back and enjoy, happy that everything is going well. 

You bring out your infamous cherry pie that you’d baked the previous day along with some vanilla ice cream for dessert, and smile when Sunghoon tells you how much he’d been waiting to have some of it again, trying not to blush as his gaze stays focused on yours for a second too long. Thankfully, your parents don’t notice, too busy cutting themselves a slice. 

He stays for another hour or so, until the sun has set and the streetlamps and the moonlight are the only things keeping the world visible. Your mom forces him to accept tupperwares full of leftovers from the night and makes him promise to come back with his daughter. Sneakily, she tells you to help him carry the tupperwares home even though he’s more than able to do it himself, then hugs him goodbye, hurrying you out of the door.

Sunghoon hasn’t yet changed the lightbulbs to more efficient ones, so his kitchen bathes in the faint glow of the overhead lighting as you put away the leftovers in his fridge. He stands a bit to your right close behind you, closer than needed to simply hand you the tupperwares he was holding. When everything is stored, you turn around, but you’re trapped between his body and his arm that holds the fridge door open. With his free hand, he takes you by the waist and pulls you gently towards him. “Careful,” he says so quietly, it’s almost a whisper, and closes the fridge door behind you. 

He’s never been this forward with you, and even though you’ve fantasized many times about this exact moment, now that it’s really happening, you don’t know what to do except to search for an explanation in his eyes. His eyes that are looking right into yours and are a bit clouded over, from the alcohol or the proximity between the two of you or both, you don’t know, but that also have the twinkle of a smile in them. 

His lips are close enough to kiss, you think, and as if on cue, his gaze drifts down to your slightly parted lips. “You’re very pretty, Y/N,” he says, before sealing your lips with his own. You respond immediately to his kiss - you’ve thought too much about it to stand there and do nothing - but it’s all so slow and so soft that you’re not sure if it’s actually happening, so dreamlike it all feels.

You’re called back to reality when his other hand finds your waist, your own hands coming up to his shoulders before one of them snakes its way to the nape of his neck, tugging lightly at his hair. This seems to change something in Sunghoon, who all of a sudden tightens his hold on your waist, his arms wrapping around it to bring you closer to him. His kiss gets faster and deeper too, and, to your surprise but not your distaste, a bit desperate. You’re happy if you have on him half of the power he has on you. You taste sweet vanilla ice cream and tangy beer on his tongue, and it’s not at all unpleasant. It makes you want to eat cherries together so you can then taste them in his kiss. 

A lustful sigh escapes your lips and then the warmth disappears all at once. Sunghoon looks at you like you just woke him up from a deep slumber and takes a step back away from you. You call out for him worriedly and the sound of his name seems to make him think he did something terribly wrong.

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N, I don’t know what came over me. We shouldn’t do this, it’s not- I shouldn’t have done that,” he sighs, looking defeatedly at the ground.

“Why?” you ask quietly, almost inaudible.

“You should go home,” he snaps, then closes his eyes as if in pain, cringing at his harsh tone. “I’m sorry. I think you should go home, it’s getting late,” he repeats, softer this time, but the words still sting.

“O-okay,” you say to the floor, already feeling tears well up in your eyes. You feel like you just got rejected by your high school crush, and the humiliation makes you want to crawl into a hole and die. 

Sunghoon sighs again. “I’ll let you know tomorrow about the furniture shopping, yeah? Chaeryeong is coming in the morning so we can go with her.”

“O-okay,” you repeat, surprised he still wants to do that with you. “Good night, Sunghoon,” you say without looking at him and scurry out of his house.

“Good night, Y/N,” Sunghoon answers to the emptiness after you’ve left, touching his lips with the tips of his fingers and feeling the ghost of your kiss there.

—

Truth be told, you haven’t always loved cherries. Because of a heinous lie your older brother had made you believe when you were just six years old, you hadn’t eaten cherries for two summers in a row. It was the summer your parents had finally allowed you to eat cherries as they came from the trees in your backyard - beforehand, they’d been too scared that you’d choke on the pit or swallow it unknowingly, and had always prepared purées or other forms that cherries can take for you to eat, so to be finally handed the small fruit and told “go ahead, try it,” felt like an honor. 

A simple “don’t forget to spit out the pit” from your mother had sufficed for you to be careful, and yet, your brother had thought a fear tactic would be more effective. “If you swallow it, a tree will grow inside your belly and make you puke out cherries,” he’d lied when it was just the two of you at the outdoor table. 

“Really?” you asked him in disbelief, horror written all over your face as you looked at the seemingly harmless yet deadly fruit in your hand. You’d already eaten two and were in the middle of eating a third; your brother nodding ‘yes’ in response was all it took for you to spit out the cherry furiously and immediately start sobbing, afraid you’d swallowed one even though all three pits were right there on the table, a guarantee that no unwanted flora would grow inside of you. 

Your mother rushed outside at the sound of your wailing and quickly put two and two together when she saw your brother laughing uncontrollably while you hid your face in your hands, desolately imagining your future as a walking cherry tree. She held you tight in her arms as she told your brother off and reassured you that he was just playing a stupid prank on you. Still, the simple thought of swallowing a pit had terrified you and you were unable to eat cherries for the remainder of the summer and the one after that.

This is the story you tell Chaeryeong and her dad as the three of you sit outside together, making them laugh - although, a few minutes later, when Sunghoon is gone to the bathroom away, Chaer leans over the table and whispers, “It’s not true, is it?” so you reassure her that you’ve eaten cherries your whole life and have never had one single root take life in your tummy. 

It’s been a bit over a week after you shared that kiss in his kitchen, and the awkward atmosphere is just starting to fade. You’re glad he didn’t ignore you after that night, even if pretending nothing happened when both of you are very aware that something did happen is only the slightly better alternative. It’s a refreshing change from boys that sleep with you and then act like you don’t exist, for sure.

The kiss hasn’t done anything to burst the tension; if anything, it’s made it even more electric. You catch him looking at your lips more than once and you wonder why he still acts the same way as before when he’s made it very clear he didn’t think kissing you was a good idea. Catching him shirtless one night in his bedroom doesn’t help, and neither does him catching you staring at him - you’d quickly shut the curtains, but it was too late, and he’d seen you ogling his toned chest and abs.

At least, the fact that Chaeryeong is here forces a bubbly atmosphere upon you, and you hope you’re not crazy when you notice him fondly looking at the both of you interacting. Chaer is an outgoing little girl and seems to have liked you as soon as you complimented the toy puppy in her hand, saying you used to have the same and it was your favorite.

The day you went food shopping was practically hell to get through. One evening, you were holding onto Sunghoon for dear life, finally kissing him, and the next afternoon, you were browsing through the endless aisles of your local IKEA, holding his daughter’s hand and pretending like you hadn’t kissed her daddy.

When it got to the bedroom part of the store, you and Chaer decided to try all the mattresses and find the most comfortable one. You usually were never one for seating and laying on random beds in stores, but there was a kid with you, so you were sure it’d be fine. When you found the one you liked most, you looked up at Sunghoon from your position and said, “This one’s pretty good, Sunghoon.” His immediately reddening cheeks told you everything you needed to know and you quickly sat up, clearing your throat. He tested the mattress by pushing his palm against it and muttered a “yeah, it’s pretty good” before scribbling down the number of the mattress onto the small sheet of paper customers use to remember which products they wanted.

Of course, now that Chaer is with him and most of the work in the house is done, save for some minor things that Sunghoon can finish up on his own, you spend a lot less time together. You hate that you miss him so much. You miss the way he makes you feel, like your whole body is on fire with just one look or one touch, the way his stupid jokes make you laugh or how endeared he looks when he talks about his daughter. Seeing him with her only adds to your stupid crush - he’s doting, protective and caring, makes sure she has everything to be happy and manages to treat her at once like the kid that she is but also like a human that has opinions and feelings. He’s a really good dad, and that does nothing whatsoever to stop your DILF fantasies, although now, it’s really Sunghoon that you want, and the fact that he’s a dad isn’t a dealbreaker, it just makes him that much better.

You hate that you miss him, and yet being with him is somehow worse, because you can’t do any of the things you want to do. You fall asleep one two many nights dreaming about his lips and how nice it’d be to feel them again - on your lips, on your neck, everywhere. You want to feel him everywhere, and this longing lust is starting to drive you crazy. You’d never wanted anyone this much.

He invites you over for dinner one night, and the look he gives you when he opens the door sends a shiver right down your spine. “Hi, Y/N.” 

“Hi, Sunghoon.”

He leads you into the kitchen with a hand on your waist, even though you’ve been in his house many times before and need no assistance getting there. A small, horny voice at the back of your head tells you that tonight may be the night, but you quickly shut it down, not wanting to get your hopes up all on your own.

Sunghoon serves you a glass of red wine, and you ask him what the occasion is. “Just to celebrate the house being almost done,” he answers with a smile.

Dinner would have gone as usual if Sunghoon wasn’t practically staring you down the whole time, eyes full of something you can’t quite put your finger on and that drives you crazy. His gaze lingers on you every time you speak, and he punctuates the syllables of your name like he’s trying to get a feel for them on his tongue.

Your heart is pounding in your chest when the clock strikes nine p.m. and it’s time for Chaeryeong to go to bed - you don’t know if you’ll be able to handle being alone with Sunghoon, and you might have to make a run for it, Cinderella-style. 

Chaer goes to the bathroom to wash up and change into her pajamas, and when she comes back, she asks - no, demands - that you’re the one who tucks her in, and who are you to say no to the cutest little girl on Earth? She holds you by the pinky as she drags you up the stairs to her room then buries herself in her covers, tapping on the bed next to her body for you to sit there. “Okay, now we can talk without Dad around,” she says all business-like.

She tells you about the boys at her school and the birthday party she went to last week and the latest drama with her friends. The both of you are too busy chatting and giggling to hear footsteps coming up the stairs and stopping at her door, hiding behind the wall. After ten minutes, she yawns loudly and says, “Can you call Dad? I think he’ll be sad if he doesn’t wish me good night.”

“Of course,” you reply and kiss her on the forehead, wishing her a good night yourself. You’re only half-surprised to find Sunghoon at the doorway, waiting for his cue.

“Wait up for me, yeah? I’ll just be a minute,” he says, that smile still on his lips, that smile that keeps you hoping.

“Okay,” you whisper, and head downstairs, nervously taking a sip from your wine glass as you wait for him on the living room couch.

He is indeed back in a very short time, too short a time for your nerves to settle, so when he sits down close to you on the couch, body turned towards yours, you can feel your heart in your throat. He traces the rim of his glass with the tip of his pointer finger and you both watch the slow movement for a bit, a heavy silence hanging over both of your heads. You wait for him to talk because you’re too scared of what you might say if you start the conversation.

“Y/N, I’ve been thinking,” he starts shakily, “about um, our kiss, the other day-”

“Oh, we don’t need to talk about that,” you quickly interrupt, waving your hand in dismissal at him. “You made it clear you didn’t like it-”

“No, that’s the thing-”

“And that you thought it was a bad idea-”

“No, just listen-”

“So let’s just forget about it, and-”

“Y/N,” Sunghoon says in a stern voice, raising his tone just enough to make you stop in your rambling.

“Yeah?” you look up at him, eyes wide open. Expecting, as always.

“I haven’t once stopped thinking about that kiss,” he says, sounding out-of-breath. “I handled it awfully, and I’m so sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t like it, because, God, I liked it. A lot,” he chuckles. “Maybe even too much.”

There they are, the words you’ve been dying to hear. Yet all you can say is a stupid “Oh.”

“I just… I was tipsy, and Chaeryeong was coming the next morning, and I panicked. I didn’t know what to do for the rest of the week, and you didn’t say anything, so I didn’t, either. But I can’t pretend like it isn’t there.”

“Like what isn’t there?” you echo, voice almost low as a whisper.

“You know… this,” he replies, voice as low as yours. Slowly, one of his hands comes up to trace your jawline. You release a shaky breath as you set your wine glass on the coffee table and rest your hand on his knee.

“Are you sure about this? ‘Cause if you tell me that you want me… then I’ll be all yours, Sunghoon,” you murmur, hands slowly sliding up his thigh. He takes you by the wrist and puts your hand right on top of his already growing erection, letting you know exactly how he feels about you.

“God, can’t you see what you do to me? I want you so bad, Y/N,” he almost growls, and with that, his lips are on yours, trapping you into a kiss far hungrier and more ferocious than the previous kiss, your mutual intentions finally laid out in front of you for you both to see.

Sunghoon wastes no time as he grabs you by the waist and brings you to his lap, sitting you on top of his crotch so that you can feel his hardening cock against your core. The kiss turns desperate in mere seconds, and you’re relieved to see that Sunghoon seems to have been waiting for this as long and with as much ardor as you have. Your hands are fisting his hair, tugging almost harshly, while his hands roam the expanse of your back until they settle on your ass, grabbing at it to press you closer to him. You can’t stop yourself from moaning into his mouth when his erection rubs over your core in just the right way, and he takes that opportunity to add tongue to the kiss, deepening it.

You start to grind yourself against him, which he helps you do by slightly rutting his hips into yours and bringing your ass closer at every movement. Quickly, you fall into a rhythm so perfect and that feels so good, you think you might explode right then and there. Forget riding his thigh, this is infinitely better.

Needing to catch your breath, you pull away from the kiss, but your lips find his jaw immediately and you start pressing wet, needy kisses there and down his neck, sucking in some spots so that light bruises appear. “Fuck, Y/N, that feels so nice,” he breathes, eyes shut closed. His scent drives you crazy, and his small praise makes you double down on your actions, almost biting the soft skin of his neck.

As you continue kissing him there, occasionally returning to his lips for more, his hands roam your thighs and then up your back, snaking themselves under your t-shirt and finding the clasp of your bra, quickly doing away with it. He pulls away just so he can help you out of your top and takes your bra off of you, hands caressing your sides as he admires your half-naked body in all its glory. You take his hands and bring them to your chest, resting your hands on top of his as you continue grinding onto him and let him play with your boobs. “You’re so fucking hot,” he practically moans, making you chuckle. You reach for the hem of his t-shirt, because it’s only fair that you get to see him too, and you bite back a moan when he uses the absence of your hands on his to pinch your nipples lightly, then takes one in his mouth, catching you off-guard. You forget all about your plan of undressing him as his tongue flicks at the perked bud, your hands finding his hair again as you moan unabashedly. 

“S-Sunghoon,” you breathe, the combined feelings of his now fully hard cock pressing against your clothed but soaking cunt and of his warm mouth around your nipples really getting to your head and making you see stars, so that all you can say is his name. “Please,” you beg, you’re not sure what for. Mercy, perhaps. Or release.

“Please what, baby?” he asks, and the nickname goes straight to your core.

“I don’t- just, please, Sunghoon, please,” you say incoherently, making him chuckle.

“Okay,” he says as if he can read your mind, and you think he actually does when he lays you down on the couch, fingers finding the zipper of your shorts. He unbuttons them and slides them down your legs along with your soaked panties. He makes sure they’re fully off of your body before running his palms up both of your legs, from your ankles to your hips.

“Don’t tease, please,” you plead, too desperate for him to take his time.

“As you wish, princess,” he smirks, and brings a finger to your folds, sliding it down to gather some slick before pushing it inside your hole. Your back arches as an instant response to his touch and you let out a small whine, already craving for more. “Fuck, so wet, and all for me, yeah?” he questions, his eyes not once leaving your glistening pussy.

“Yes,” you breathe out, mind too fuzzy to produce a longer sentence.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos, and adds another finger, pushing all three of his knuckles in and massaging your sweet spot as soon as he finds it. When he’s found a rhythm for his motions, he finally looks up at you and curses himself for not having watched your face earlier. Head tilted back in pleasure, mouth agape as your breathing gets more and more irregular and eyebrows scrunched together, you look like the definition of sex, and it takes everything in Sunghoon to not start touching himself.

He forces himself to look away from you only to focus back on your pussy and notices your swollen clit that is begging for attention. He licks it tentatively, and when your back arches at the feeling of his tongue on you, he dives in completely, licking a stripe up your folds before wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking at it like he did with your nipples earlier. The pace at which his fingers are pumping out of you quickens and you’re pulling so hard at his hair, you think you might rip some strands off. You feel yourself getting close, and you’re reminded of all those frustrating encounters with college boys where they stopped right before you came, so you can’t stop yourself as you desperately chant “oh my God please don’t stop please don’t stop,” not even noticing the way you’re holding his head down against your clit and bucking your hips into his face.

Your orgasm hits you like a truck - this is probably the first one you’ve received from someone other than your own hand or your vibrator in the past year and a half. It takes your breath away, and you’re left gasping for air for a good thirty seconds, your mind reeling from the intensity of such pleasure. When you calm down, you lift your head to look at Sunghoon who’s already watching you with a grin on his face, your slick coating his chin and mouth.

You plop your head back down with a groan when realization hits you. “I’m sor-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Sunghoon commands, hands rubbing your still-trembling thighs. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he marvels, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Really?”

“Really.”

After another couple of seconds, you sit up on the couch and send Sunghoon a mischievous look. My turn, you think, and if his smile is any indicator then he seems to have understood. “Let me thank you,” you say, gesturing at him to sit up himself as you lower yourself to your knees on the couch in front of him.

You look up at him from between his thighs then unclasp his belt and undo his jeans. He lets out a shaky breath and says, “You don’t need to do this, you know-”

“Don’t be a gentleman, Sunghoon. I want to do this and I know you want it too. It’s pretty obvious,” you tease as you run your hand over his erection, watching in delight as his eyebrows furrow and his eyes close. “Now help me get these off of you.” He nods and raises his hips so you can take his jeans and underwear off, imitating his actions from before as you take your time to get them over his ankles and caressing his legs until they reach his crotch, watching as he takes his t-shirt off as well so that you can finally see him entirely. You’d caught glimpse of him shirtless before as he worked in his garden, but the sight still manages to take your breath away. Taut muscles and sun-tanned skin, laid bare right before you. This is what they mean by sculpted like a Greek god, you think.

You haven’t done anything, yet his head is already laid back against the top of the couch, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he gulps in expectation and chest rising visibly at every intake of breath. You must’ve saved a thousand souls in your previous life to be deserving of such an image.

You spit in your palm before taking him, starting out by slowly moving your hand up and down his shaft, then rubbing small circles against his tip, the small moan-like sighs that leave his lips letting you know you’re doing a good job. You gather some saliva in your mouth and spit on his length to add some lubricant and smirk when he lets out a low fuck. You bring your head closer and lick his balls, taking one at a time in your mouth and sucking very gently, making the volume of his moans increase. “Just like- fuck, just like that, Y/N.”

You then lick a long stripe up his cock and swirl your tongue around his tip when you reach it, humming at the taste of precum there. Sunghoon gathers your hair in a makeshift ponytail so it doesn’t get in your way, and finally looks down at you, blown away by the beautiful sight of your flushed cheeks and your mouth around his cock. He groans when you take him deeper and unconsciously bucks his hips into your throat, making you gag around him. He loves that feeling but doesn’t want to hurt you so he grabs your face and makes you look up at him, lust and worry written all over his face as he apologizes, but you quickly stop him. “It’s okay, I like it. You can do it again,” you say, and smile before wrapping your lips around him once more.

“Fuck, are you sure?” he asks and you hum, sending vibrations all over his body.

“God, o-okay,” he says, in disbelief that you’re okay with him practically fucking your throat and even liking it. And you do like it - you love letting him use your mouth to get off, just like you had earlier with him. He must have amazing core strength because he’s able to buck his hips into your mouth rapidly as he holds your head tight in his hands. The way you keep coming back for more every time he lets you breathe is enough to drive him crazy, but after a couple minutes, he stops you from taking him in your mouth again.

“I can’t- I don’t wanna cum like this,” he breathes, looking just as fucked-out as you do.

“Where, then?” you ask, kissing him all over his thighs as he trails his fingers through your hair. “Inside?”

He groans at the offer but shakes his head, eyes shut as if trying to calm himself down. “I haven’t got any condoms.”

“I’m on the pill,” you tell him, still pressing kisses on his warm skin. You’re far too desperate to feel him inside you to let a lack of condom stop you, especially when you don’t even need one.

He lets out an umpteenth shaky breath and makes you look up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Sunghoon,” you say, looking him dead in the eyes, “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” You’re relieved when he smiles and nods, bending down to trap your lips in a heated kiss for good measure. Something about being in this position, kneeling in front of his spread thighs and having to look up at him, turns you on even more.

“Okay, then,” he says, still smiling as he pulls away, holding you gently by the chin. “I don’t think I’ll be able to last long, and I want to feel you cum around me. So, tell me, what’s your favorite position, princess?”

The question takes you aback but you answer it anyway, looking at the ground. “Reverse cowgirl…” you admit shyly, a small smile spreading on your lips.

“Reverse cowgirl, huh?” Sunghoon repeats, and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s smirking. “Come here, then,” he says, and helps you up, making you turn around so your back faces him and seats you down on top of him, keeping your hips raised. He takes his cock inside his hands, pumps it a few more times before guiding it to your entrance, pressing kisses to your shoulders and nape to make you relax. 

You moan at the simple feeling of his tip teasing your entrance and Sunghoon whispers “I know, baby” against your skin. “Sit down for me,” he commands gently, and you oblige, lowering your hips slowly to feel all of him stretching you out, the both of you moaning in synchronization when he bottoms out.

Sunghoon wraps an arm around your middle and pulls you onto him so that your back rests against his chest and you can let your head hang back next to his. “Let me do all the work, yeah?” he murmurs into your ear, and you hum in response. He doesn’t move for a bit, roaming his large hands all over your body until he feels your walls relax around him. One of his hands finds your breasts, playing with each nipple in turn, while the other finds your clit. It’s all so much but so good that you’re already a moaning mess before he’s even started moving. “Ready?” he asks, but you’re too far gone to answer.

His pace starts out slow, but you’re impatient and whine as you try to move your hips against his to go faster, which makes him tut. “I told you I’d do the work, didn’t I?” he asks, pinching one of your nipples in reprimand. “So be good for me and stay still, Y/N. I promise I’ll make you feel good.” You whine again but stop moving, heeding his words.

“Perfect,” he whispers and kisses your neck before picking up the pace, shushing you when your moans get too loud.

“I’m sorry, just feels too good,” you manage to let out.

“I know, but you need to stay quiet, baby,” he says, yet gets rougher with his thrusts, which does not help in the slightest. His hand that was on your breasts comes up to cover your mouth, but he quickly decides to make you suck on two of his fingers instead, muffling your moans a bit.

His fingers on your clit haven’t relented this whole time and after just a few minutes, you feel that familiar knot tying itself again in your stomach and you know you’re mere moments away from it coming undone. Judging by his rapid but clumsy thrusts, Sunghoon must be close too. He pounds into you like you’ve been wanting him to ever since you first set eyes on him as he entered the hardware store, hitting your g-spot over and over again. Tears roll down your cheeks and you whimper around his fingers, biting down on them as your second orgasm hits you.

You’re practically sobbing as he helps you ride out your high, his movements sending your body into pleasant overstimulation until he reaches his high too, the feeling of your pussy clenching tightly around him pushing him over the edge. Ropes of his semen paint your walls white, and there’s enough of it for him to become a father of two. You whine as he pulls away, and feel his cum slipping out of you and onto the couch underneath you. Before you can catch your breath, he asks, “Baby, can I do something very dirty?” and you nod without thinking much. This man could do anything he wanted to you, and you’d thank him for it.

He settles you back down onto the couch, kneels on the floor, head level with your core, and sticks his tongue inside your hole, making you yelp in surprise and overstimulation. You don’t understand what he’s doing until he comes back up and makes you open your mouth with his thumb, then spits inside it, telling you to swallow. You do as he says and taste his cum, laughing in disbelief at what he just did - and at how much you liked it. “Fuck,” you giggle.

“Was that too much?” 

“God, no,” you say, and he smiles. You open your arms, gesturing for him to get back on the couch. He rests his head between your breasts, the both of you sighing in contentment as he rubs small circles on your belly and you graze your fingers through his hair. He’s so silent that you think he’s fallen asleep, but he speaks up after a while, voice soft and calm like you’ve never heard before.

“We should go get cleaned up…” he says, and you hum in agreement, “...but it’s so nice here,” he finishes, making you giggle.

“If we get cleaned up quickly now, we can cuddle in bed right afterwards,” you argue.

“You’re right. Infallible logic. You’re so smart, you know that, Y/N?” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Of course I know that,” you joke. “Let’s go,” you say, kissing the top of his head.

You take a shower together, cleaning each other and leaving kisses here and there, or touching in places you shouldn’t touch and that maybe lead to more, right there in the shower. Now that you’ve had a taste, you’re insatiable, and you warn Sunghoon that the both of you are in for a very long night, to which he answers that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once you do fall asleep, (which isn’t until two rounds later, and you’re surprised either of you have this much energy), however, you’re holding each other tightly, the fan on high so that you don’t feel all sticky, being so close to each other. Even if you wake up here and there because he shuffled or he snored too loudly, it’s one of the best sleeps you’ve ever had.

—

You wake up the next morning by small giggles and snorts that come from none other than Park Chaeryeong herself, who’s buried herself between you and her dad, shaking her body to wake the two of you. You’re glad that you listened to Sunghoon when he told you to put on a t-shirt of his as well as some underwear so neither you or Chaer would have a fright when she came and woke you up as she liked to do every morning. “You had a sleepover!” she exclaims excitedly when she sees you’ve finally opened your eyes, looking at her with a sleepy expression and a smile.

“We did!” you reply, trying to keep the same level of excitement.

“We did,” Sunghoon repeats, taking his daughter in her arms to hug her tightly and blows a raspberry in her neck to make her laugh.

“You didn’t invite me!” she shrieks when her dad’s left her alone.

“Sorry, sweetheart. It was just me and Y/N.”

“No fun,” she pouts, laying on her back and crossing over arms before turning back to her dad. “So, is Y/N my new mom?” she whispers even though you’re right there. You gasp at her question, making wide eyes at Sunghoon who just snorts, and you can’t tell if she’s genuinely asking or if she’s an eight-year-old with an advanced sense of irony.

“Of course not. Is Heeseung your new dad?” he asks, mentioning his ex’s new boyfriend. Chaer shakes her head.

“No. He’s Mommy’s boyfriend.”

“Exactly, and Y/N is Daddy’s girlfriend. Isn’t she?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you, smirking.

“She is,” you reply, and Chaer turns back to you, giggling. She snuggles close to you, wrapping an arm around your middle, and you’re taken aback by the sheer cuteness of it all. You look at Sunghoon with a fake pained expression, and he smiles endearingly at the two of you before sighing and joining you in your hug. He rests his arms around you and his daughter, kissing the top of your heads in turn. 

“My girls,” he mutters in your hair, and you smile peacefully.

There’s a lot of things you have to talk about with Sunghoon. You know your parents - especially your mom - will be okay with the two of you together, but will his parents be? And once semester starts again, what will happen? You’ll have to go back to campus and he’ll have to stay here - will a three-hour drive be a dealbreaker, or will you make it work?

The thing is, there’s no point in thinking about all of this at this moment. You’ve got the whole summer to figure things out. For now, you’ll eat cherries and spit out the pits, and everything will be perfect.

this is a one shot, there will not be a part two!

permanent taglist: @k-ingzo @bbujiikseu @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 @wntrnghts (ask to be removed/added!)

© asahicore on tumblr, 2023. please do not repost, translate or plagiarize my works. feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

[cheeseboi420]

Of A Feather - Chapter One Preview

A/N: hi everybody!!! I am super duper stoked to present u all with the first 2k words of Of A Feather, aka the "what if Jason's bio mom didnt SUCK" fic. Im hoping to have the full chapter ready for publishing in the next week or two! Big thanks to everyone who's talked to me abt this fic so far, and an ESPECIALLY big thanks to @jayladfanpage for basically being my jaybin encyclopedia while i work my way through this fic!!! This warning will be more applicable in future chapters but it should be noted that this fic is NOT canon compliant and does significantly change/recontextualize a couple things about Jason's background, but you the audience get to find out about all that in real time alongside Jason lmao!! Anyways, without further adieu, please enjoy this preview ❤️

TW: mentions of drug use, teen pregnancy, allusions to underage sex

You expect this evening to play out like the one before it. And the one before that. And the one before that. Your routine hasn't changed in the last 13 years. Why should it? It serves you well enough, keeps you alive and… Well, that's about all it does for you. Not that you're looking for more! For the most part, you are… content, maybe isn't the correct word. Complacent fits a little better, but still isn't wholly accurate. You're content in the knowledge that your boy is safe and loved, somewhere far away from the trouble that chases you. You're complacent in your own quiet misery. The longing and loneliness had been a bitter pill to swallow those first few years of running, but after this long you've learned not to complain. God knows no one would listen if you did.

You've got a shitty box pizza in the oven. This will be your dinner, tomorrow's breakfast, and tomorrow's dinner. You won't particularly enjoy any of the meals, but they'll sustain you well enough. These days, food brings you little, if any joy. Meal times are a chore to slog through before the distraction that work brings or the sweet embrace of sleep. You look forward to, more than anything, going to bed. Not because you're tired (though there is a bone deep weariness that permeates- that no amount of rest could ever fix) but because bed means sleep, and sleep means dreams, and dreams mean a chance to hold your baby again.

You don't dream of Jason every night, but every morning, you wake thinking of him. Is he still asleep right now? Having breakfast? Is he eating well? Is he happy? Is he happy? Is he happy?

By the time you push your way through breakfast most mornings the cacophony of thoughts revolving around your son quiets to a dull roar in the back of your mind. It's better that way, you think. If you thought about him as much as your mind seemed to want you to, you'd never get anything done.

Life carries on, you suppose. However dreary and dull that life may be.

At one time you'd found the whole thing very exciting- though not in a particularly enjoyable way. The adrenaline rush has worn off over the years, no longer do you feel as though death is nipping at your heels. The paranoia never fades though. Even if your doom does not cast a shadow over you, you're always looking over your shoulder, always ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.

You keep a bag packed and ready in the closet by the front door for when you have to leave this place, too. Though, you think it's buried under a winter jacket and your spare blankets. You really ought to dig it out, keep it easily accessible. You should do that but… it's been a long day. You want to eat your shitty pizza, lay down on your futon, and let the sound of tv static fill your studio apartment, lulling you to sleep.

You're getting too comfortable here, you think. You've lived in Michigan for nearly a year now. It is simultaneously entirely too close to and entirely too far from Gotham. The apartment itself was a godsend after spending most of your time sleeping in cars, tents, whatever unfortunate business was willing to employ you, anywhere you could, really- sure it has bugs, and the windows don't close all the way, and you're fairly certain it'll only take one more bad winter storm for the place to come crumbling down, but rent is dirt cheap, and the slumlord you rent from didn't ask for any ID when you signed your ‘lease.’ You're fairly certain that thing's not legally binding anyways- it was written on a cocktail napkin for Christ's sake. That didn't stop you from using a fake name when signing it. You can never be too careful.

You haven't seen your landlord since you moved in anyways. You don't ask for maintenance when things break, you fix them yourself or just learn to live with them broken. You deliver your rent by slipping a cash stuffed envelope with your name (your fake name, the one you signed your lease with, the one you use at work, the one you'd use at coffee shops if you ever went to any) on it through the slot in the office door. You do your best to be invisible. You don't cause problems, and you don't go out of your way to fix them for others. You make no friends or enemies. You've left no impact on the many places you've been, the cities you've drifted through.

The only evidence you've gone anywhere at all in your life is a stack of postcards, held together with a worn rubber band, sitting at the bottom of your go-bag. The only evidence of a life lived before that is in a similarly bound stack of polaroids, held together with a too-small paperclip. Every now and then, you'll buy a bottle of cheap wine to chug as you pour over the old photographs. Only when you leave for a new city do you dare to touch the stack of unsent postcards.

You can't bear to look at the photos too often, a painful reminder of your own failings. A reminder of the stupid, reckless little girl you'd been and the shell of a woman you'd become in the aftermath.

Girls like you'd been were a dime a dozen in Crime Alley. Really, you weren't even a particularly special or severe case. Sure, you did drugs, but you weren't on crack. You were just a bit of a stoner! Sure you'd been sixteen and pregnant, without the slightest idea which of your former paramours had knocked you up- but it was all above board, really! None of those men had forced you to do anything. In fact, you sought them out of your own volition for all sorts of reasons. Attention, cheap affection, cheaper drugs, something to do, somewhere to go when the home you'd once shared with your father and brother had become too stifling to bear.

It's all your own fault, really.

At least that's what you keep telling yourself.

It's easier to swallow than the alternative: that you were a vulnerable and unloved thing, eating from any hand that would feed you, until the hand that feeds decides to beat.

This, you think, is why you shouldn't think too hard about the past. It doesn't do you any good to dwell on it.

You force yourself to focus on the present, on the here and now. The scratchy polyester blend of the futon cushions, the scent of cheap cheese melting in the oven, the distant sound of sirens, and howling wind outside your apartment. There's no sense in thinking about Gotham now, not when you're so far from it.

You sit up on the futon, no longer content to lounge and let your mind wander. Instead you task yourself with flipping through channels on TV, seeking something mind numbing enough to distract you from your unusually strong urge to reminisce.

The Wonder Years? No, you don't want to watch anything about a family.

Alf? No, that puppet creeps you out.

Cops? Fuck that.

You're about to resign yourself to another night of murmuring the (mostly incorrect) answers to Jeopardy questions at your tv, when you're startled by a knock at your door.

A… knock… at your door.

No one ever knocks on your door. You don't get mail, you don't have friends, if your landlord wanted something, you're willing to bet the greasy bastard wouldn't be willing to haul himself all the way up to the fifth floor at nearly 10 PM.

Oh God… Did… Did he find you? Is this it? Are you going to die in the upper peninsula of Michigan, of all places?!

No, no. You have to stay calm. This could be anything. It's just a knock at the door. It could be anyone!

Oh lord, it could be anyone.

You keep the tv on, hoping that the sound of Alex Trebek grilling folks on useless trivia will cover your footsteps as you creep towards your front door. You hold your breath as you press yourself against it, double checking that all three of your locks are secure before you risk a glance out the peephole.

When you look out into the hall you're surprised, and frankly a bit confused by the sight before you. Standing at your door is a boy, dark haired and bright eyed. He stands straight but not particularly tall- he can't be more than five feet. He's glancing around the hall, rocking back and forth on his heels. He's wearing a red sweatshirt and jeans, with a backpack slung over one shoulder. Despite his small stature he holds an air of determination that makes you think he must feel quite old for his age- you get that, you were the same way in your own youth. A chip too big for your shoulder.

You're so focused on studying him that it startles you when he leans forward to knock again. You jolt, accidentally kicking the door (with your bare feet too, damn does that hurt your poor toes) and responding to his knock-knock-knock with a solid knock of your own.

“Hello?” The boy calls. “Anybody home?”

“I don't have any money!” You call back, cursing yourself for the shake in your voice. You should not be this rattled by a random adolescent on your doorstep. “So, if you're selling popcorn, or cookies, or whatever, you should try next door.”

The boy rolls his eyes.

“I'm not a boy scout!” He says. “I'm looking for-”

And then the shoe drops; he says your name. Your full name. Not your fake name, that you use at work, and on envelopes, and in hypothetical coffee shops. Your real name.

It takes every bit of emotional regulation you can muster not to spiral into a full blown panic right then and there because good God, did He send a child to finish you off? The cruel irony is not lost on you. Come to think of it, this boy on your doorstep does bear an uncanny resemblance to-

“My name is Jason Todd,” the boy continues. “And uh… well, I might be your son?”

He could be lying, the logical part of your brain insists. This could be a ploy to get you to open the door, don't open the door! But your hands are moving on their own, shakey as they may be. The first lock twists unlocked with ease, the second takes a fair bit more of your fine motor function, and by the time your shaking hands reach up to unhook the chain on the door, you're struggling to see through unshed tears. You attempt once, twice, three fucking times to get your hands to cooperate and unlatch the damn chain.

Fuck it.

You open the door, yanking it inwards, towards yourself as hard as you can. It should probably unnerve you that the flimsy chain breaks at the first sign of real resistance, but that's not what's important right now.

What's important is the boy standing before you- your boy. Your Jason.

He looks as surprised as you feel, his eyes flitting between the broken chain, and you.

For a long moment the only thing you can do is look at him, reacquaint yourself with the sight of him. Of course, you know that he did not stay frozen in time, the way your memory of him is. It's been many years since you've held that babbling toddler. But knowing and seeing are two different things.

He's small for his age, is your first thought. Your own fault, you're certain. Between a premature delivery and your own malnourishment during that first trimester, it's a miracle he'd survived in the first place. Small, but well fed. His cheeks are full and flushed. Despite his size, he seems healthy. Good. That means Will's been feeding him. Hopefully, it means they got the hell out of The Alley, into a nicer neighborhood.

His hair isn't as curly as you'd pictured it- too short in most places to hold a curl, save for his bangs, which seem to almost form the shape of a heart over his forehead.

“Jason?” You can barely manage to say his name through the lump in your throat. You find yourself suddenly struggling to focus your gaze on him, the haze of tears welling up in your eyes makes it difficult to see. You try to blink them away but instead they roll down your cheeks.

God, when's the last time you cried?

You reach out to him, cupping one of his cheeks in the palm of your shaking hand. He leans into the affectionate touch, and you're reminded of puppies, overeager and seeking love at every opportunity.

“Mom,” he says back to you, his tone just as reverent as your own. “Mom,” he says again, voice crackling. And then, in unison, the both of you have pulled each other into a crushing hug. You can't tell if the sound you make is a sob or a laugh. You hold onto Jason like he'll vanish into the ether if you loosen your hold for even a second, one hand clutching at the back of his sweatshirt, the other at the back of his head, petting his hair as he buries his face in your neck.

Finally, at long last, your heart is home.

SO. What do we think folks. Are you hooked? I hope youre hooked. Please be hooked. I wanna talk to people about this fic so damn bad. Please send anons or dms or literally anything. When the chapter is complete I'll be putting it up here as well as on my ao3, which I'll link to! Thanks so much for reading and i hope yall are enjoying yourselves so far! Send me an anon or a dm if you'd like to be included on the taglist for this series!

TAGLIST: @leirobles

[kk43mi]

needy┊kabukimono

PAIRING ┊ kabukimono x f!reader(dom-ish) GENRE ┊smut WC ┊ 1.2k+ WARNINGS ┊ obsessive behavior , somnophilia , clinginess , pussy eating , fingering , blowjob , good boy , lowercase intended!!! SYNOPSIS ┊ the first time you gave a blowjob to kabuki, he became obsessed with the feeling and pleasure. always asking for more and more, at the wrong time and place, outside at the woods? he wanted it. other people were around? he wanted it. you were busy with work? he wanted it. A/N ┊ written by kam , hope you guys enjoy ! been thinking about this for a long while, time to let it out. a little drabble btw!

the first time you gave a blowjob to kabuki was when he asked about it, he heard about people talking about getting into the act of intimacy and that made him all flustered.

he got all shy and fidgeting with his fingers asking if he could do it too. "n-niwa was talking about doing stuff like...I dont know...like the thing...its embarrassing.."

of course you had to help your poor baby out, guiding him to the bedroom and taking his clothes off for him. he gets all shy saying "do i have to be naked...?" he asks so innocently.

"yes, now relax you wanna do this right?" you would reassure him and he would nod.

moaning and shuddering out of pleasure when your tongue starts kitten licking his tip, making him seeing stars already, hips bucking upwards as his back arch in an impossible angle.

the way his tip was inside your mouth had him whining and whimpering. "a-ah! so-so good..! mgh..mmgnh-!!"

and thats when he lost it as his whole cock was inside your mouth, touching the deep parts of your throat. which makes you gag a couple times, but he holds onto your head for leverage, gripping a handful of your hair, trying to withstand the pleasure.

hes so cute trying to hide his little whines and moans by biting his bottom lips, maybe a little blood trickling down mixed in with his drool.

he came on the spot,since this was his first time initiating in any kind of action, it wasn't surprising. but you swallowed it all, gulping down the white substance. hips shaking, and he let out the most pornographic moan ever.

"that-that felt so good y/n...one more..?" he asks so innocently and you let out a chuckle. "one wasn't enough?" he shakes his head as he pleas for another one.

and from there on, he always asked for you to pleasure him. even when you got back from work he would get up from his seat jumping up to you in thrill. giving you a tight hug and kissing your lips.

"y/n! youre back youre back! can we do it now? pleaseeee? ive been waiting all day..." he would pout.

"eh..but we did it yesterday already-and it was the first time...you got addicted..?" you would laugh it off but he wasnt having it. "noo pleaseeee, i havent released the whole day...need you.." he would say before rubbing himself on you.

"but im worn out...next when im free alright?" you try your best to convince, but all he did was pout and cry.

"dont you love me? cmon ill just do all the work this time!" he whines and you just sigh in defeat.

"alright fine...just only one time." he would nod before dragging you to the bedroom, already taking yours and his clothes off.

"n-ngh-! ah-fuck.." you moaned out as he ate your pussy out as if he hasn't eaten in years. slurping and licking your folds, sucking on your clit. "so good~ you taste so good..." he would mutter out.

he was always so hungry for your pussy, always chowing down on it as if there was no tomorrow. eating your pussy out as he rubbed his cock against the mattress to get some friction. even if you were begging him to slow down and trying to get away sometimes, he would just pull you back in by the thighs and eat you out.

if you were tired he would just do everything just so he could cum. bottoming out as he inserted his cock inside. makes him whine in pleasure, he couldnt help but move on the spot! thrusting himself at a fast pace while he kissed you with both elbows resting on both sides of your head.

you would whine, telling him to please slow down but he just couldnt! your pussy felt too good, squeezing so tight and good around his cock, you can basically feel him twitching, knowing he was close.

"gonna cum...! cum..cum cum cum!" he said as his thrusts gets sloppier and faster. "ah-wait not inside!" you screamed out but he kept going till he would reach his high. "kabuki!"

he would finally pull out, cumming on your stomach, and even on your face. then you squirting on his cock and stomach as both of the individuals could be heard trying to catch up their breath. but you can feel him sliding his cock on your folds.

"one more..p-please.." he would stuttered before pushing back in which had you arching. already sensitive from the orgasm you had. a long night soon awaited you.

you loved kabuki, but sometimes he would just annoy you by crying and whining when he didn't get what he wanted. even if you both were shopping for food at the markets, he would get needy, holding onto your arm and already grinding on your thigh.

"'m needy....please..now." you would sigh telling him nows not the time. but he then starts whining, crying which brought attention from other shoppers and it had you embarrassed until you dragged his arm, bringing him to a empty secluded place, behind some strangers house...sure there were other people too but less than the markets.

"god you irritate me so much..." you would say before taking his pants off, then flipping him to the wall, to where his ass stuck out. prodding two fingers around the rim of his ass. he would whimper at the feeling scratching onto the walls of the white concrete.

then finally inserting it inside of him, he would let out a slutty moan, almost loud enough for people to come. thrusting your fingers in and out of him, curling them at the ends, poking at his good spot.

"mmnggh-! nghh ahh~!" kabuki would let out with no shame, not even caring if people heard him, he just felt too good!

"quiet down, or else people will see." he nods and obeys obediently, biting his bottom lip to contain his moans from slipping out. "good boy." you praised him before stroking his cock. and his eyes rolled to the back of his head, moaning and saying incoherent sentences, drooling at the pleasure he was getting.

thrusting your fingers in and stroking his cock was already enough for him to cum on the spot, making a mess on the wall, coated with white sticky cum. leaving him breathing heavily.

sometimes there would be days where youre too tired to even do anything, denying his requests of doing it so you can get some rest, sure it takes some convincing but then he would just pout and say "fine!" with a needy tone.

but little did you know, he would just wait until you passed out, just so he could take your clothes off and insert in his cock in your hole. thrusting in and out, skin slapping skin, just the feeling of your pussy pulsating around his cock. he always got off to the feeling of it and could cum immediately.

after that you would scold him for creating a mess when you were asleep, always feeling sticky and having to clean up.

when you guys had your intimate moments, and this time you told him he could cum inside, he couldn't hold in his excitement. saying "r-really?! okay! ill cum inside..." the thought of cumming inside you always excited him.

there when he first came inside he was so addicted to the feeling. after that he just couldnt stop cumming inside you, your pussy felt too good for him to stop, he would go on and on till his cum was basically translucent.

you would have to be the one initiating in aftercare, always so tired whenever he came multiple times...what did he expect. you would clean yourself and him up, then relaxing in a calming silence of cuddling and telling endearments to which kabuki would command.

requests open!

[veevei]

DAWN IN THE ADAN

megumi x reader smau | prev | masterlist | next

ch 41: herro?

timeskip to tomorrow becus im lazy (again…)

should she drive or walk? shes already running late she should probably drive. maybe she could get a seat next to her real friends this time.

should she get a book? the cafe is connected to a library so maybe she should bring some extra money. $20 for food $20 for a book, what book should she get?

its a relatively short drive to get there. stepping out of the car she feels a rush of cool air. maybe she shouldve worn something warmer, she keeps underestimating how cold it would be.

when she gets into the cafe, she doesnt see anyone. maybe everyone else is running late also?

she strolls in the aisles of books looking for something that would catch her eye. megumis here, is yuji and nobara here also?

maybe hes just a stalker or something. this is like the second time shes seen him while in a cafe.

she’ll wait until he says something first. maybe theyre waiting in the cafe now?

she goes to check— quite fast, she doesnt want nobara taking her seat— if theyre here yet

no.

why is megumi here but not yuji and nobara?

fine. she’ll text them.

not proof read

its in the tags or something sooo

manifesting colder weather (its 70 f.)

my birthdays soon guys!!!!

i have an idea next chapter.

🙏 praying hands emoji

taglist ask to be added/removed

@frogtits1 @matsugumisou @megumisdivinedogs @satoryaa @starmaiya11 @tuna-toes @loriisheart @kurtcobaingirlie @san-it-is-i-guess @tomikixd @blu3-l0v3r @goobleissocool @lucislovebug @jasminasblog22 @walllflowerrrsss @creteansailor @gumims @kiss-my-asscheeks @sirenla @love-me-satoru @nanaanatiion @saucymunch @laaalaaaloooppppsiiieeeee @tibibibi123

[angeliqueiguess]

“Focus!” (j.jh)

020. hope warnings: angsty, a hint of hope.

Jaehyun lay sprawled across the couch in his hotel suite, the steady hum of traffic and public transit filtering through the windows. The noise, though overwhelming, served as a strange comfort—at least it kept his mind from spiraling too far into his thoughts. But no matter how loud the city outside was, one thing remained constant: Y/n.

She was all he could think about. Every part of him longed for another chance, just one more, to say the things he had buried for too long. He wanted to drop the mask he had worn for years, to stop pretending and finally tell her how he really felt. But the idea of confronting her wasn’t what scared him most. No, the real fear was what would come after—what if she listened, only to walk away? What if, after everything, she decided to close the door on him for good?

The fear gnawed at him relentlessly, forcing him to play out every possible version of that conversation in his mind. He obsessed over what he would say, how he would say it, and whether any of it would make a difference. But no matter how much he planned, a voice in the back of his mind whispered the same doubt over and over: What if it’s already too late?

Lost in his thoughts, the sudden vibration of his phone on the table snapped him back to reality. His heart skipped a beat as he reached for it, fingers slightly shaky. He unlocked the screen, and there it was—the message he had been waiting for: "Meet me tomorrow..."

For a moment, everything around him faded into silence. The noise of the city, the weight of his doubts—gone. A small, hesitant smile spread across his face, the first genuine one in a long time, softening the exhaustion etched into his features.

Maybe—just maybe—this was his chance to finally make things right.

Calmness was finally beginning to settle in Y/n’s mind. She had followed her best friend’s advice, though she was already on her third cup of tea. Each sip had chipped away at the overwhelming anxiety that had kept her on edge, leaving only faint traces of nervousness that felt a little easier to manage. With a deep sigh, she set the cup aside and reached for her phone, which had been off for the past five hours. It had given her enough time to think more clearly about what she needed to do—and, more importantly, what might happen. She felt better, though not entirely.

As she powered the phone on, the screen lit up with a flood of notifications: likes, scattered comments on her posts, and a few new messages. Among them was one from Ten: “Text me when you feel better, boo 💕.”

A small, warm smile crept onto her face, wrapping her in a sense of comfort she hadn’t realized she needed. She couldn’t help but feel grateful for Ten, someone so patient and thoughtful, someone who always knew exactly what to say without demanding anything in return. In the middle of all her emotional chaos, he was a steady reminder that she wasn’t alone—that someone cared and was willing to stand by her, no matter what.

Leaning her head back against the couch, she held the phone loosely in her hands, breathing a little easier. The uncertainty of what lay ahead was still there, hovering, but that simple message from Ten was enough to ground her. It was a lifeline in the middle of the storm, and for now, that was exactly what she needed.

prev//next masterlist.

Angie's note: hiii im back at it again! (i'll try to update every day while i can hehe) hope you like this one! and dont forget to take care of yourselves!!! love ya! <3 <3 <3

Taglist: @apolloxxivmin @aerivrs @chan-yeoldelling @livingdoll-hara @cryingforjae @heavenjae @milanco @sibwol @neocupidd @minkyuncutie @miniature-tragedy @kukkurookkoo @kodasity @injunnie-lemon @thegracerammy @hahaechans

[madlittlecriminal]

Hiii, I'm not sure if you're still taking requests, but if you are, could you write headcanons about the moonboys reacting when the reader wears glasses (it could be something sfw and nsfw)?

Thank you <3 <3 <3

Their Preference ✰ Moon Boys × GN!Reader with Glasses [headcanons]

you're welcome! hope you like it! :D as someone who wears glasses, i was so happy to receive this because like :')

Warnings: a bit of smut, i don't wear contacts so if you do i apologize if there's any mistakes, tour guide!steven because it's what the baby boy deserves, show's depiction of DID so i apologize for any errors, i speak spanish and my spanish might be different than yours

~from my 1K Follower Celebration, but im accepting requests for these three men

-NOT MY PHOTO-

You've been with the boys for about a year now, but they've never seen you in your glasses

You've worn contacts and always made sure you had a new pair

But then you ran out and forgot to get new ones

So, you had to wear you glasses

Unfortunately, you had to get your new contacts tomorrow since your eye doctor was already closed as it was past 6 pm

That also meant the guys would be home from Steven's shift at the museum as a tour guide.

You sat on the couch waiting for them to come home

When you heard to the familiar sound of his keys hitting the door, you smiled

He came in and was taken aback by the sight of you.

"Love?"

"Yeah?"

He tilted his head to the side.

"Since when do you wear specs?"

"For a while now, I just wore contacts before."

He grinned.

"Adorable,"

You felt your cheeks warm up at his words

Marc took control of the body next and would be in awe of you in your glasses

"You look beautiful, baby. You should wear them more often."

Then Jake took control.

"Cariño, te ves increíble con tus lentes puestos." ("Darling, you look incredible with your glasses on.")

They gave you the option to either forget the contacts as a whole or to wear them when you'd go out because they were obsessed with you wearing your glasses.

Regardless, they were always gentle with your glasses

Cuddles? They'd take them off for you since you had a habit of falling asleep in their arms

Hugs? They'd make sure you weren't too squished in their chest so your glasses wouldn't be damaged

Sex? Ha...on or off, they didn't mind.

If they were on though, they'd be gentle

If you wanted them to be rough, mostly with Marc or Jake, they'd take off your glasses carefully before placing them on the bedside table with such gentleness that you'd think their next movements would slowly ease into the roughness

Nope.

Maybe Marc would start slow again before pounding into you

But Jake?

Yeah, he'd show no mercy.

Either way, they'd each tell you how your glasses made you look irresistible

In ways where they would wanna hold you forever and showering you with love and affection

And in ways where they'd make love to you and/or fuck you

They didn't care though

As long as you were comfortable with them on, they were happy

At the end of the day, that's all that mattered; you being happy and comfortable.

[ceilidho]

Omg yaaaas i agree w that other anon, if you ever have like tidbits or random thoughts about military asset soap I'd gobble them up! Ofc you got a lot going on so no pressure at all to write more of it because you already fed us SO FUCKIN WELL OMG! But i can fully say i went nuts over what you wrote like the idea is sooooo delicious, and the buildup/tension is a lot of fun! Also sorry im gonna drop a headcanon that just came to me but imagining soap coming back from the mission (successful duh) and like maybe they dont let him have the reader right away, they put him back in the adjoining cell and tell him "tomorrow" and soap just sits on his bed maybe worn out from the mission, and he just STARES at you all night long. Has the scariest fucking smile on his face. The BUILDUP i tell you THE BUILDUP 😭😭😭😭😭 anyway again this isnt pressure to write more that idea just came to me while i was writing this ask lolll. Okay im done have a good day!!!

no but your brain is fucking humongous.

i love love love a really good build up of tension and oh my god. Soap looking forward to getting you to himself throughout that whole mission only to find out that for some unexplained reason, he's not allowed you. maybe they want to keep him in top form for something they have planned for the next day - whatever the reason, he's put back in his cell even after being hosed down (not like an actual hose lmao just imagine a super industrial shower or something idk).

he sits still in his cell all night staring at you, just absolutely bricked up. he's still dripping from his shower and clothes roughly put on; he keeps clenching his jaw and swallowing whenever you move, eyes tracking you like a hound. he doesn't say a word but you already know that tomorrow is going to be bad when they finally let him in.

[mistress-of-vos]

For the "Im weak for you" prompts

Rastim and "You just can't stay awau from me for too long, huh?"

// Thanks for the prompt!!! 💚 //

.

"What are you doing here?" Tim mumbles as he drags himself inside of his penthouse. Maybe it's the wine on his blood, but Tim is grateful that Ubu steps behind him, closing the door for him and picking up the mess of keys and cards left.

Ra's, comfortably sitting on the living room, raises an eyebrow. He dares to look offended, as if Tim had been rude by not being around when Ra's decided to enter his home without permission.

"Good night to you too, Timothy. Or should I say good morning?" Ra's huffs, picking up a cup of tea from the table (and that china porcelain it's not Tim's), pointing with his head at a wall clock that displays 4:37 in red lights.

"It's night. To me," Tim murmurs, unsurprised when a faceless ninja picks him up softly and guides him next to Ra's. In matter of seconds, a glass of water is pushed to his lips and his heels are taken off.

(Why did Ra's have to come over tonight? Tim's mascara is a mess, and his perfume has already worn out, leaving nothing but sweat and alcohol over his skin).

"You two: Leave us," Ra's orders when he seems satisfied with their new position, and Tim doesn't have to raise his eyes to know Ubu and the ninja have sneaked outside in mere seconds.

"What is it now?" Tim yawns, acrylic nails scratching Ra's' ridiculous royal green cape, "I thought you weren't talking to me."

Ra's rolls his eyes, putting the tea cup away and undoing the golden knot that kept his cape in place. After some elegant and practiced movements with his hands, the cape is over Tim's shoulders rather than on his, and Ra's' hands cup Tim's face, making the vigilante look at him through his thick eyelashes, red painted lips opened in confusion.

"So?" Tim asks, hands now clinging to his own knees.

Ra's sighs; "You insulted me. You allowed them to see you." Ah, it seems Ra's is more possessive than Tim gave him credit for, as that's the only explanation about why he would travel half the world to complain about Tim modeling for Vogue.

"Oh? Are you jealous?" Tim half laughs, leaning in so that his face is just inches away from Ra's', enjoying how the warm hands hold his head. It's not the most comfortable position, but it works, "You just can't stay away from me, can you, old man?"

That seems to get on Ra's' nerves, as he pulls Tim closer, basically forcing the boy over his lap. It's not a matter of roleplay, it's just Ra's taking advantage of his height and size over Tim.

"You, Timothy," Ra's growls as his hands leave that doll face and go down to squeeze certain low área of Tim's body over the Armani black suit, "need a reminder of your position."

"Sure," Tim replies, still dizzy from the alcohol and not quite confident in managing to keep up the rest of the night with a hungry Ra's, "Did you bring viagra with you?"

Ra's' eye twitches.

"I had dignity before you."

"Hm - uh"

"Don't you see how humiliated I am just by coming to see you? Does it pleasure you to have me kneeling back as some dog?"

Tim has to hold himself on Ra's' shoulders, tiredness growing on him moment by moment. Ra's looks very handsome, and under other circumstances Tim would drag this for hours, enjoying that he has this powerful, wonderful emperor wrapped around his finger... But Tim's tired, and truth be told, he's just as whipped as Ra's is.

"Ra's, I love you, but I really think I'm going to throw up."

Ra's murmurs something in Arabic, Tim barely catching the words "insufferable" and "brat". But Ra's takes him to the bed anyway, so Tim calls the night a victory. Tomorrow he'll deal with Ra's' anger - and with his own hungover too - .

Besides, every second Ra's is with Tim, is a second where he's not destroying the world. Truly, someone should award Tim for deciding to date the dangerous and arrogant Ra's al Ghul!

[elleloquently]

lmk if this is dumb or if you arent taking requests rn but i just dyed my hair (myself) for the millionth time and i was thinking... college!ellie... helping reader dye their hair.... you get what im saying?/!?:))-&2):$2)/

LOVE INVISIBLE STRING BTW

-🪩

| a/n : what color did you do?!? sorry this took a bit to get done, i did a headcanon type format bc i felt that would work best so i hope that's okay!! <3 thank you for requesting!!

college!ellie helps dye your hair :

maybe deciding to dye your hair in the middle of the night wasn't the best idea, but after debating the idea for weeks, you finally felt inspired enough to do so and decided to jump on your sudden burst of motivation, finally taking the plunge.

it was the same back and forth for weeks. you were going to leave your hair alone, until you happened upon a gorgeous color you absolutely had to have. soon enough you had purchased the dye and the color was in your hands, but you had changed your mind. you did this often, examining the package in your hands, admiring the color and swearing you would finally dye it in the morning, but the only event that came with a new day was a change of heart.

finally, feeling fed up with homework but not tired enough to call it a night, you turned the package containing the dye over in your hands. you contemplated it, thoughtfully, before mumbling out loud.

"i think i'm gonna do it now, ells."

ellie, who was laying on her stomach with her feet in the air, wordlessly peeked at you from over the top of her astronomy textbook.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

-you wouldn't agree on whose idea it actually was. ellie would side that you begged, pleaded, even bribed her to help out with your hair project. you would disagree, claiming that ellie pushed to help with promises of 'it'll be fun!'

-regardless, you ended up in the bathroom, suddenly feeling uncertain as yourself and ellie stared at each other in the mirror. you had a towel wrapped around your shoulders, a lazy attempt at covering the old tee shirt you were wearing. you dug it out of your closet purposefully for this, not caring if any hair dye stained the worn cotton fabric.

-you were feeling excited, eager even, especially since ellie was going to help. that feeling was quickly replaced with doubt at the way ellie mischievously laughed while snapping plastic gloves onto her hands, flexing her fingers under the clinging material. you giggled nervously nonetheless, forcing ellie to read through the instructions once and then a second time to make sure she had really read them.

-the event would prompt a lot of laughter, and definitely a lot of light-hearted bickering. you would insist that ellie pays attention to what she's doing, it's your head for god sake, and she would argue that you need to stay still and let her focus.

-"ellieeeuugghhh"

-despite the banter or the moments of brief silence, it was practically an excuse to simply enjoy ellie's touch. she was gentle, even when she was being ridiculous on purpose, and the way she would examine each strand of hair, squinting and furrowing her eyebrows to make sure the color was evenly distributed, was adorable.

-it was simply because it was you, and ellie wanted to be careful with you and also wanted you to be proud that she had helped and even did a good job.

-you would let your eyes close momentarily, sighing in contentment when ellie spoke, quietly announcing her approval by saying, "this is going to look so good."

-it was nearly so peaceful, so perfect, until you had to remind ellie to make sure she was putting enough dye on the top and not just on the ends, and until she started grumbling about how the gloves were making her feel clumsy.

-"just be careful please ellie, i have class tomorrow," you laughed, imagining how terrible it would be to walk around with stains on your skin, matching the new color of your hair.

-only you didn't have to imagine.

-a few reminders here and there, (some gentle, some not) and ellie's responses of 'i know, don't worry,' came to a halt in an instant.

-it was a small moment, a teeny tiny slip up. you had gotten caught up with talking, and poor ellie really tried to work around your wiggles while you had been talking, and she even attempted to scold you about moving around so much, which you should've taken seriously.

-ellie needed a better view of the top of your hair, and you kept looking up at her while you were speaking. to hold you still, out of habit, ellie placed a gentle hand across your face, fingers spread over your chin and cheeks.

-upon the touch you immediately both froze. your mouth snapped shut and ellie's dropped open, registering what she had done. she slowly pulled the sticky glove away from your face, afraid to reveal what was underneath and you squeezed your eyes shut.

-"please tell me it's not bad please tell me it's not bad plea... ellie? why aren't you saying anything? is it bad? oh my god ellie is it-"

-okay, it wasn't that bad, but you definitely had some stains on your face.

-ellie thought you might react poorly but you howled with laughter, even surprised by your own reaction.

-ellie got a little bit grumpy though and ripped the gloves off of her hands and dumped them into the trash, insisting she could work more accurately without them. honestly she just felt bad but kept cracking a smile about it anyway.

-"ellie," you frowned, "i don't think that's good for your skin," you said in protest.

-ellie raised an eyebrow at you, practically referencing her mistake that was stained onto your face. "i'll be fine," she muttered. "it could be worse."

-hair color anew and mess cleaned, you admired your new hair in the mirror while ellie grinned proudly over your shoulder. you thanked her endlessly for helping, and she insisted it wasn't a big deal but honestly felt proud that you even trusted her in the first place to have her help out.

-you had the evidence to show for your evening together, the splotched stains around your face matched the dye stains covering ellie's fingers, which you both could not stop laughing about the next day.

[ronearoundblindly]

Being in the hospital im thinking what would it be like if Ari's girl ended up in the hospital nothing life threatening but something that needed to be treated in the hospital. I'm betting he'd be a nervous wreck and wouldn't let anyone see it he'd maybe go into the bathroom and freak but I'm guessing he'd try and stay strong but crack a bit infront of her or maybe stay overnight if they let (it depends on the wards)

ok, full disclosure, I did absolutely no research for this because I'd like you to have reading materials, so it's in no way scientific 🤷🏻‍♀️

The Chair Beside Your Bed, a Bedrock and Blueprints tale

No warnings except minor angst to fluff. (Sry, the gif barely works here but I'm...not changing it. 👀) WC 975

Ari can barely keep his eyes open. You're already asleep, but he just can't bring himself to join.

The IV in your hand looks uncomfortable when you tense involuntarily. He watches the tendons pull and roll beneath your skin and swallows hard.

He should have seen the signs, and the doctors say you'll be right as rain once the antibiotics are done. He still can't leave. He still can't eat. He still refuses to sleep.

Ari's mind can refuse all it wants. Eventually, his eyelids are too heavy, his neck slumps over the thin pillow behind it, and he's lost to a dreamless land in the chair beside your hospital bed.

"Ow," you hiss, releasing the two-by-four in your grasp.

"You get your hand, honey? I got those gloves for you."

You wave him off. "No, no. Stepped too close to the pile and scraped my leg. No big deal. That's almost all the wood from the truck."

"Great," Ari chirps, straightening after marking the outline of your She-Shed in the backyard. "I'll go get another load before dark. We can plot out the frame and whatnot tomorrow."

As you wipe the back of your hand over your head, Ari doesn't see any blood on your legs and immediately forgets.

"So we'll need equal amounts of wood on all sides," you ask.

He shrugs and pulls off his own thick work gloves. "More or less, yeah." Ari won't let you use any of the tools, but he will let you speak like it's a joint effort. Because it is. Everything he does is meant for you now.

While he's out at the store again, you divvy up the stacks of planks around the edges, far enough away for space to work but close enough for convenience. He's grateful, but Ari doesn't realize this means hours where you did not clean the cut on your leg.

A week later and you're running a slight fever. Ari only notices you aren't walking properly when you get off the couch.

His worst fear at that point is that stupid desk chair you're always complaining about. Your back is constantly aching. He wishes the company would replace all the chairs soon but especially, specifically yours.

You work too hard. You're worn out.

He knows you've had a bandaid on one calf, but it's on the outside leg where you sleep in the bed. He forgets a lot until his leg brushes against it while you two snuggle, and you hiss in pain.

Ari insists on taking a look, switching on the bedside lamp. He can tell something is wrong before even removing the bandage because it's red beyond the adhesive. The middle is warm to the touch, which he can barely do before you gripe at him.

You promise to go to the urgent care first thing in the morning, and Ari drives you himself. You're so sure that they'll just slap some pills in your hand and send you on your way that you shoo him off to work.

He gets a voicemail two hours later.

"Hey, uh, don't be mad, but they've transferred me to the hospital. I have to be hooked up to this drip thing for a few days and--"

Ari's in his truck before his supervisor can even wish you well.

If he'd thought about it at all, he would have gone by the house to get you and him a change of clothes, but no such luck. He refuses to leave the hospital grounds and only leaves the building when he absolutely can't stand his cigarette cravings anymore. Otherwise, he is right beside you.

You sleep a surprising amount, wiped out by the intensity of your treatment albeit fairly standard.

It's a long three days.

Ari decided after the first afternoon there that his chair needed to be on the other side of your bed. That way he could hold your hand that wasn't pierced with a needle, and he can safely rest his head on your side.

When you're awake, your fingers card through his hair. When you're awake, you tell him he looks like shit and needs to sleep, too.

"I promise I will later."

"You're lying," you complain weakly.

"Yeah, kid, I'm lying."

This exchange happens three separate times: the first you forget, the second you laugh at, and the third you start playing dirty.

You tell him you'd like to listen to one of your audiobooks, and since neither of you has headphones, you play it on speaker with the phone on your chest.

Ari is successfully out cold within minutes and wakes refreshed and a little pissed.

He lied and told the nurses you are his wife in order to be allowed to stay overnight, so them calling him by your last name during the discharge routine is awkward, to say the least.

Ari has fun explaining that one on the drive home.

With a few more days of ingestible antibiotics left, you're entirely on the mend and use every single ounce of your energy to argue Ari out of the house and off to work. He only feels less guilty when he comes back to find you asleep again, and after one more full day of bed rest, you are able to return to work as well.

From those days on, however, you are forbidden from helping with any repairs or building Ari does. José and Dimitri are rangled to assist when necessary, but it's a hard line in the sand that Ari will not shift on. He also takes it upon himself to be the First Aid King of the Castle and is in charge of all bandaging and cleaning of any wounds, no matter how small.

You only allow this complete farse (enacted over every papercut now) because he looks so cute when he fusses.

[Main Masterlist]

[papercutsunset]

Right As Rain

FFF 261: Maybe One More

This is a piece for @flashfictionfridayofficial, clocking in at 1000 words. I'd say more but it's 2:16 AM, I'm worn out from crying and chlorine, and I have to pee very badly, so I shan't.

There could be content warnings for this one; there's some mentions of vomiting and some depictions of internalized aphobia in here. (Jeanette has issues with both. She's an anxious little wreck. I'll fix her someday, when she's not Schrodinger's superhero.) (I've been on a superhero kick. I started one for last week's prompt, just to complete it, but you know im not going to finish it.)

“Why can't I come over?” Simon whines through the speaker. 

“I already told you,” Jeannette laughs. She cradles the phone against her shoulder, clumsily putting the fastener by her mask’s bridge mound back in place with chipped tweezers. “It's not a good time.” 

“Why not?” 

“It's just not! I don't feel well, my room's a wreck, my dad is pissed at me—” 

If her life were a movie, Jeanette likes to think it would make some crisp cinematography choices. The twinging 1960s pop slipping out of the whirring CD player on her desk’s corner would kick up into an indie pop inferno and there would be a series of small cuts away from its coyly-placed view of a normal teenage girl tending to her abnormal hobby. When she said she doesn't feel well, the camera would cut to Omega Satyr kicking her in the kidney ten minutes ago; at the state of her room, maybe there would be a small clip of her stumbling in through the window, trying to get her dumb boots off, and leaving pieces of Jawbone all around her already-messy room like a gas mask can be dirty laundry; and when she mentions that her dad’s upset, it would cut to an imposing man in voluminous black robes pointing angrily into the depths of the sewers she accidentally got them lost in today.  

In the spirit of cinema, she holds up a tooth on her desk. Hers.

Does she feel at all? Pain, sure, but… Does she feel anything for Simon in the way she's supposed to? Does she feel anything other than disappointment when she tries?  “Mostly, though, I just don't feel well.” 

“Boo. You suck.” 

“I don't deserve this slander, Simon. And I think I'm going to throw up again.”  None of it's serious. That's why it's so easy to talk to him; that's why it's so easy to keep this going. 

“I-swear-to-god, that's not a stomach bug.” 

“And you still love me,” she reminds him. Her stomach twists at the thought. She isn’t sure why. 

“Yeah,” he says, after a moment. “I love you, Jeanette.” 

“I love you, too. Goodnight, Simon. Have fun watching Back to the Future again. Without me.” 

“Sleep well. Don’t stay up too late listening to that shitty Sheila Guthrie album.” 

“Hey! Sheila Guthrie is amazing.” 

“Who the fuck is Sheila Guthrie? Nobody’s heard of her.” 

“You’ve heard of her.” 

“Yeah,” he reminds her, as always, “because I’m dating you.” 

“Well, she’s good. For that matter, so is—” 

“And so is whatever else you want to tell me tomorrow, Jenny.” There’s a laugh in his voice. “Don’t forget, paper’s sending us out to the shoreline? To look at the plant? Just us interns?” 

“How lucky am I?” She wonders why it feels like an act. “I get to work at Crust Lust and I intern with my boyfriend and—” 

“And I’m hanging up on you because I love you too much to let this continue. I know you.” 

“Please cut me off,” she breathes. “Shit, Simon.” 

“Goodnight,” he laughs. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Sweet dreams.” 

With the swift, sudden sound of the disconnect, he’s gone. All she has left is her mess of a room; her mess of a life; and the refrain on the CD whirring: is he lonelier than me? 

If she listens to love songs, she can push through what she’s supposed to be doing. This is normal. This is what everyone wants. More than that, this is what she wants. She wants the swell of music as she swoops in, tumbling down his fire escape in the rain; she wants the lights to soften in the background of the shot; she wants the cacophony of the passing cars to fade away and the shimmer of a leitmotif as she takes his face gently and kisses him, telling him without words, this is me. Please see me as I am. Please see every part of me and love me anyway. And in turn, he kisses her harder, there in the rain, his gel melting and her curls flattened, in a moment where Simon Brown doesn’t care, for once, about how things look— I see you as plainly as you see me. 

Life isn’t condensed into a tight hour-and-a-half. Jeanette isn’t the friendly neighborhood superhero with bumbling charisma and useful powers. She’s a costume designer’s daughter. Her alter ego is most well-known for property damage and throwing rodents at a politician.  

With her mask fixed again, her weary, terrified face reflects in the hard green eyepiece. She can try to tell herself it isn’t true, but she knows. Behind the bravado and the tights, there is one central truth. The one thing she wants, she can’t have. 

So why does she keep pretending? How is it fair to him? If she knows she doesn’t love Simon— that she's incapable of falling in love ever— why does she keep saying she loves him? Why does she keep kissing him? Why does she keep listening to love songs and thinking that it’ll make her life align with their ethos? 

It’s the kind of thought that makes her stomach churn a little too much. She keeps it down this time. With the taste of bile in the back of her throat, Jeanette breathes deep and switches off the radio. After a gall-building second, she zips up her coveralls. She pulls her boots back on and fastens the buckles. She sweeps on her jacket; she adjusts the hood’s horns; and, after leaving a note for her father, she steps up onto her desk. 

She needs to help this city. That’s what her mother always says. If you’re out of your mind with worry, go help someone else for a while. Maybe she’ll forget it later, but she’s sure as shit not forgetting it now. 

There’s a lattice to climb down. There’s a world to save. If she tells herself the same thing enough times, it’s going to be right as rain. 

[alphabetboyluvr]

bad decisions - jjk | ten

When his story pops up—a repost of tomorrow night's paint party event at Dionysus—you find yourself clicking through to your DM thread without much thought. You know he's at work. Know it's a 50/50 whether or not he'll get back to you before your mind begins to berate you again for how miserable you feel.  It's a simple message—Hey—and you're pleased that it's met with an equally simple reply not even a minute later. JustJK: To what do I owe the pleasure? You decide that "I'm about to cry over my shitbag ex so chose to message you instead" probably won't be Jungkook's favourite thing to hear, so you opt for a little white lie. You: Just wondering how the kids are. Part of you worries he won't understand what the fuck you're on about - but of course, he does. He's Jungkook. Gets you better than you get yourself, these days. JustJK: Missing their mother. 

Bad Decision #10 - Blonde

warnings: b is in her bleach era. love that for her!! jaykay is in the chapter for like 1.5 seconds and still manages to be the best thing about it. also if u think wow holly sometimes your chapters end very similarly, uhhh yes. ur right. mainly because my brain is smooth but also because jungkook is a creature of habit! it's within his character traits! not because im stupid! even if i am!

soundtrack: space - audrey nuna;  blonde - maisie peters

wc: 3.5k

bd total wc: 370k (on-going)

minors dni | wattpad | series masterlist |

You suppose you really shouldn't be surprised when Seokjin leaves you on read. It happens as soon as he escapes the city, just like it always does. 

It's always the same; he'll come back to town for a few days—to visit friends, his family, or maybe for a haircut with the only barber he trusts—then leaves just as quickly as he comes.

The predictability of it all would be funny, you think, but your knees are getting worn out from how many times you fall for it; his charm, his deception, his pretty lips that soothe the burn of his selfish choices. 

He'll be radio silent for a while, and then suddenly, as if he's finally changed the batteries in his walkie-talkie, he won't be. It'll most likely be when he's on his way back to town in a few months time.

The saddest part is that you know you'll want to see him when he does. Will have the burning desire to show him just how well you've been; how well you've coped without him.

Most of all? You'll want him to know just how much you don't need him.

Inevitably, he'll end up in your bed, and you'll end up all in your head—again—overthinking and underestimating just how easy it is for him to drop you. Forgetting just how badly he fucked you up, only for him to remind you in the most callous of ways.

When Danbi comes home on Thursday night—three days since Seokjin's last message—she knows exactly what's happened. You've got a special kind of pout reserved for Seokjin-related upsets. It's always a little soft yet incredibly hard to break.

"You gotta stop letting him in," she says over a glass of red. She hates the taste, but loves the soft buzz in the pit of her stomach. Though she's much better suited to Moscato, Danbi will never turn her nose up at free wine.

If she knew why you were drinking it, she might consider rejecting it.

Seokjin's favourite. You'd bought it on the way home from work. Just couldn't help yourself.

Had figured that at least when you hugged yourself to sleep that evening, your lips would taste like his used to do, on the nights when he'd tell you that you're the most delightful thing he's ever laid his eyes upon. Would be all giggly. Wine drunk. Happy. In love.

But it's been a while since he did that. Feels like a lifetime ago, now. 

You shrug as you let the ruby-red liquid swirl in your glass. Fighting against your feelings feels like swimming against the tide.

Always struggling to breathe. Never winning. Failing. Falling. 

"I don't know how to, Dan."

"But you do," she insists.

And she's right. Of course you do. 

His number has never been blocked, but a simple restriction of access to you would solve so many of your problems.

Thing is, you kind of like him still being your problem. At least that way, on a technicality, he's still yours. Kind of.

Every time he comes back to the city, it's still your bed that he ends up in.

Never for the night. Just for an hour or two. Long enough for you to convince yourself that he can't stay away.

The lies you let your mind whisper are insidious. You're irresistible. He's still just as affected by you as you are by him. He can't possibly leave you.

And yet he does, each and every time.

He doesn't ever let you go. Not fully. Whenever you think you're getting over it, he shows up just to get you under him; his thumb, his spell, his body.

You're halfway through the bottle of wine when Danbi tells you once more that you need to get Seokjin out of your hair.

You've reached the end of it by the time you're grabbing your purse and heading for the closest Olive Young.

It's just down the street, by the crossroads that lead into town, and the staff there have seen you in worse states. A little tipsy has nothing on the mascara-stained eyes they used to be greeted with during the worst days of the breakup.

"Sure about this?" Danbi asks just to check before you take the boxes in your hands to the counter.

"Absolutely not, but he always hated me blonde," you grin a little sardonically. The happiness that comes with this change will be temporary, but you have to remind yourself that so was he. "At least even if I can't resist him, he'll resist me."

Peroxide and perhaps a little fried, your blonde hair had caught his attention in the early days - but you had dyed your hair dark in a bid to keep it. 

He'd said some bullshit in a conversation amongst friends about his preferences, and how he favoured the 'natural look'. You weren't together at the time, not officially - but everyone there was a friend of his. They all knew you'd be going home with him. It only took two boxes of dye to get him asking to be exclusive. A week later he was introducing you to his friends as his girlfriend. 

Funny what a little bit of conformity can do for a man who loves playing by the rules. 

You assume his desire to tick the boxes and do what is expected of him is also why he was such a bellend when it came to the glitter you liked to dust yourself in. 

Nobody's perfect though, so he was willing to overlook it. Was just one of the flaws he perceived in you. When you love someone, you accept them.

He ultimately never grew to love it, but for a while, you thought he might.

Bleach boxes in one hand, another bottle of wine in the other, you waste no time and head straight for the bathroom. Danbi follows you right in. She's always there to lend a hand or at least provide a Spotify playlist to get you through your woes. 

Folding the powder into the developing lotion by the sink, you know your bleach-induced bathroom antics could get you a spot in a Brad Mondo video.

All a little haphazard, you're without a mixing bowl and brush, so are having to use an old takeout container and a plastic spoon, instead.

It's not quite how the instructions suggest you should mix it all up, but no good ever comes from following the rules.

You'd tried for Seokjin, and look where that got you.

Unlike him, trusty Tupperware has never done you dirty before. No reason why it should now. 

Danbi sits on the closed toilet seat, legs crossed, a small bottle of bubbles in her hand. The bubbles had been a Christmas party favour from the office job she'd quit four months ago. Rediscovered when she'd been cleaning her room earlier that day, Danbi had taken to blowing pretty little bubble flurries your way all afternoon. 

Your reflection is captured in the peacock sheen of the bubbles while you study your rapidly developing hair in the mirror. 

You haven't bothered to change out of your shirt. It's not yours. One of Seokjin's. It's navy, and you hope the bleach ruins it.

"I think I've fucked up," you say all rather calmy, talking about your hair and not the shirt. It's not the end of the world if you have. Just hair, you always think.

Danbi shrugs. Has clearly spent too much time in your company, because she echoes exactly what you're thinking: "Just hair, babe. It'll grow."

That's the joy of your friendship; you both encourage each other with the same dumb remarks whenever you feel like you've reached the point of no return. 

After all, if you can't go back? 

Go forward.

"Plus," she adds, blowing more bubbles instead of taking a breath. "You can just chalk it up to being your hot mess era."

"Been in that for months already," you smile at her in the reflection of the mirror. You prod a little at your roots, and know that you definitely should have waited a little longer to work the bleach up to them. Bollocks.

You've done this enough times to know you'll end up with a gold band haloing around the top of your hair thanks to how easily your roots always lift. Nightmare. 

"Exactly, so you may as well look the part," Danbi encourages. Worst influence going, she is. Also the best at times, too. You find comfort in the fact she won't always say what you want to hear, but what you need to hear instead.

The conversation dissolves into empty chatter, gossip about Danbi's dog walking clients, mentions of Taehyung and how he's still trying to talk her into a mates-rates discount despite the fact they aren't actually 'mates'. She asked you about your Bartender That Smiles, and you say he's all good - before you have to insist there's nothing going on there. 

"He's got issues with his ex," you explain.

She rolls her eyes. "Don't they all? Boys and their first loves, I swear to God."

"Not sure she was his first," you defend, though you're not sure why. The thought lingers as you rummage around for an old tube of toner that you know you have hiding in the bathroom cabinet somewhere. It's been a while since your hair was pale enough to take toner, so it's been pushed right to the back.

Danbi is shooed from her perch on the toilet seat and into the living room as you let the shower run to heat it a little.  

The first crash of water against your skin is lukewarm. Tepid. Unappealing, but necessary. 

You hate anything other than boiling-you-alive degrees celsius, but know you need to be kind to your hair after the torture you've put it through. The water runs cloudy until the bleach is rinsed out, and then it runs purple thanks to your silver shampoo. It pools around your feet and seeps into the drain. Wishful thinking has you hoping memories of Seokjin will do just the same.

It's just to preemptively tone it, but you can't help but worry about the pigment taking too strongly on your roots. 

The ash toner you found in the cupboard is in a box by the sink. You plan on putting that over the top of whatever mess your hair is anyway, but it doesn't hurt to get a head start on the process. 

The water glistens a deep violet, briefly coating your skin - and for some reason, all you can think about is Jungkook, and how you'd really like to be downing a Purple Starfucker (or five) with him right now. He really is the perfect distraction. 

Still, you have a task at hand. You rinse your hair; ring it out. Sigh as you frown at the mess that greets you in the mirror—lilac roots, a yellow band haloing just like your thought it would, and silver ends. Brilliant.

It's as you're sitting with Danbi in the living room a little while later - body wrapped in a towel that isn't half as fluffy as Jungkook's favourite, ashy toner smothering your peroxide blonde hair - that you notice your phone flash on the coffee table.

Danbi clocks it first, and stifles a laugh as she reads the screen. "Isn't that the guy from the club?"

You assume she means Jungkook, and are a little perplexed to see it's Jimin's name on your screen instead. 

"Yeah... Jimin. Smooth talker, shit shagger."

"A glowing review."

"Hey, I still let him think he was good," you say as you reach for your phone to read his message out loud to Danbi. "You guys out tomorrow night?"

Sipping on her wine, Danbi raises a brow. Shakes her head in confusion. "He hoping for round two?"

"Fuck knows."

It's just gone midnight, so you consider maybe he's thinking about his desire for a hook-up, and is hoping for a safe bet in the form of you. 

And so you don't reply. If he double texts, you'll just lie and say you've fallen asleep.

The scent of your toner is beginning to give you a headache, so you go to rinse it and bid farewell to your final day as a brunette.

Sleep evades you. Doesn't want to let go of who you were, apparently. Wine makes you sleepy, and yet you're wired as if you've just had a triple shot americano.

But then it's three in the morning, and all you can seem to smell is the deep conditioner you bathed your hair in that evening. 

Somehow, when you look to the empty space beside you - delicately ruffled, a dent prevailing in the pillow - you convince yourself that you can smell fig leaves and coconut. The notes of his favourite aftershave linger like the ache in your chest. It's hollow, and you can't work out why it hurts quite as much as it does. 

If there's nothing there, how can it be so painful?

You sniff back tears that fail to truly form and pull your phone from beneath your pillow. It's hard to move your fingers when they're tangled up in puppet strings that Seokjin is refusing to let go of, but eventually you manage to tap through some Instagram stories in a bid to distract yourself from him. 

Inspirational quotes don't do much for you, nor do the engagement pictures of people you haven't given a second thought since graduation. There's an abundance of them. Smiling faces. Diamonds, or maybe just cubic zirconia. Fresh sets of nails, hands that are pink and warm from the heat of whoever's been holding them.

It's a curious thought; what people who haven't spoken to you in years must think of you now. 

You were the one who was going to succeed. Going far in life, made for a boardroom, would look incredible in a pantsuit—and yet you're working in a cafe, first-class degree of no more worth than the tissue paper you flush down the toilet. 

See, you switched out life goals for glitter. You wear it like armour; protect yourself from the world around you. Who cares about seriousness and success when you're a constant disco? Not you. Could never be you.

Or at least, you hope that's what people think. Hope that no one realises you're covering yourself in artificial shine; like a canvas in acrylic because you were too impatient to watch the oil paint dry.

One day you'll glow. Glow for real. 

For a while, you thought you had been with Seokjin. 

All you see when you look in the mirror these days is tarnished silver; copper alloy pretending to be much more than what it really is. Your skin will turn green eventually.

There is, however, one person you've managed to fool. 

When his story pops up—a repost of tomorrow night's paint party event at Dionysus—you find yourself clicking through to your DM thread without much thought. You know he's at work. Know it's a 50/50 whether or not he'll get back to you before your mind begins to berate you again for how miserable you feel. 

It's a simple message—hey—and you're pleased that it's met with an equally simple reply not even a minute later.

JustJK: To what do I owe the pleasure?

You decide that "I'm about to cry over my shitbag ex so chose to message you instead" probably won't be Jungkook's favourite thing to hear, so you opt for a little white lie.

You: Just wondering how the kids are &lt;3

Part of you worries he won't understand what the fuck you're on about - but of course, he does. He's Jungkook. Gets you better than you get yourself, these days.

JustJK: Missing their mother. 

JustJK: Perry the Pigeon almost fell earlier.

JustJK: Roger the Robin looks like he has a broken wing.

JustJK: Must be one of yours. Inherited his mother's wonkiness &lt;3

With each message that comes through, your smile grows wider in the midnight darkness of your bedroom. 

You: Careful or I'll file for joint custody.

You: Get poor Roger away from his father's cruel remarks <;/3

There's an ease to how you joke together, both aware of how unserious you are. There's no second-guessing, no worrying about saying the wrong thing. If you do, you'll say sorry and move on. No harm, no foul.

JustJK: Your appeal won't hold up in court, Byeol.

JustJK: You've neglected them ever since you spawned them.

JustJK: Haven't even paid them a visit!!!

Laughter stifles in your throat as your body curls up into a more comfortable position. The audacity of this boy, you think, ignoring the way he manages to get you entirely focused on something that isn't your own despair.

You: You've got full custody!!!

JustJK: And you're still allowed to come for supervised visits!!!!!

JustJK: smh and to think you call yourself their mother.

JustJK: I'm their mother now.

You pout at your screen, and whine a small little 'nooo'. 

You: They need me :(

JustJK: Come and see them, then. They miss their mother.

You: Tomorrow?

He reads the messages instantly, but takes a little longer than usual to reply. It worries you slightly. Makes you more aware of your surroundings. The scent of Seokjin's aftershave begins to permeate the air once more.

Until, all rather suddenly, it doesn't anymore.

JustJK: I'm not working tomorrow night, but Jimin's insisting on going to the paint party—you coming?

You: Will Perry the Pigeon be there?

JustJK: If he falls before I leave for the club, then yes.

It's not a bad proposition. One that quite intrigues you. One that has you agreeing, and him telling you to fuck off and go to sleep. He's got work to do, he says. 

It's actually quite quiet at the club—Yeonjun just caught him looking at his phone with a dumb smile a few too many times for Jungkook's liking. Doesn't wanna get caught out again. 

Especially doesn't want him catching onto the fact that there's a reason Jungkook's eyes light up like Disco Balls when he looks at his phone.

Yeonjun doesn't really have friends who are girls, Jungkook reasons with himself. Won't understand that he's perfectly capable of having a little flirt without it meaning anything more than that—after all, isn't that just what banter is? Friendly flirting? He does it with the boys all the time. Doesn't mean fuck all. Just fun.

Jungkook's a couple of years older than his cerulean-haired coworker, and has learnt the hard way that you really shouldn't escalate friends above the level of purely platonic. One day Yeonjun will realise this. 

For now, though, Yeonjun'll shag anyone who looks at him in the right direction. Has probably already ruined a few good friendships. Doesn't even realise he's done it.

Jungkook trusts himself not to make the same mistakes he's made in the past with you. Thinks that he's pretty happy with how things are. Has missed the dynamics of friendships with girls. Is looking forward to Monday movie night with you and Danbi again.

And yet when he gets home to find Perry the paper pigeon on his bed, he can't help but smile.

You wake up to a picture of the fallen bird in your DMs, and even though you'll whine and complain about it when you see him that evening, all you can do is smile, too.

JustJK: Looks like we're having a wholesome family trip to Dionysus tonight.

You: Mummy and Daddy reunited at last <33 Perry will be so happy.

JustJK: It's okay, you don't have to lie.

JustJK: I know you're talking about yourself, not Perry.

Jungkook doesn't send the message where he tells you not to call him Daddy. Knows you'll read into it; tease him about it. It's not like he's got a thing for it, or anything, he just... maybe wouldn't be opposed to it, and so he'd rather not be called it when he's having casual conversations with you. Wouldn't wanna get flustered. 

Part of you already knows this. Is precisely why you'd said it. It's not really your style, not the kind of thing that gets you going.

But it is also exactly why you choose to end your next message with, 'See you tonight, Daddy x'.

You're laughing as you send it.

And as he receives it, Jungkook groans. Buries his head into his pillow. Crumples Perry a little in the process. Whines. 

"Don't fuck this up, Jungkook."

minors dni | wattpad | series masterlist |

[rivangel]

Lay for Me - PT.3/4

pairing: Erwin/Levi

summary: “I’m more worn out than I thought.”

Erwin takes Levi’s hand to get his attention, and his eyes land on his warily. He’s gazing up, undeterred.

He clears his throat. “L-Lay for me.”

content/warnings: hurt/comfort, references to sh (cutting), erwin has selective mutism, healthy communication, mouth fucking, service dom erwin, multiple orgasms, dumbification, overstimulation, crying, praise, rimming, oral, begging, a little vanilla | 8.0k

note: i'm adding my own hcs in this part so i wanted to say: i think that ackermans have a high sex drive/low rebound time because well levi is an ackerman, and i said so

and im using the ackerbond in the way that having sex with your liege makes it the most powerful so there's that also.

| previous chapter | next chapter |

Levi squints down at the paperwork spread out on Erwin’s desk. It looks more like he’s glaring at the pages not a foot under his nose.

The contents are not what’s infuriating him, despite this task he’s set up for himself (One, to check over each Squad Leaders’ report of the past expedition; two, to review the eighty-six death certificates for grammatical errors). The swoops and scrawl of words and the spaces between them are starting to blur together.

It’s mind-numbing. Over and over, he’ll get past a paragraph or two, and then stop, realizing he’s retained none of it. The urge to punish himself echoes around his thoughts’ peripherals. A minor slip-up to act on it for—even a waste of time—but if he stops before he's finished, he might act on it anyway.

He volunteered to help Erwin after all. There was an abnormally long list of tasks to complete after this expedition, and of course he volunteered to give Erwin a hand with it all.

He pushed Erwin off toward the shower a while ago—the second of the day after returning this morning—but Levi barely remembered to even make Erwin take a break because he’s been so hyper-focused on work.

Maybe when people like Eld and Oluo almost die in one Titan attack, Levi must keep that off his mind.

What’s more, the expedition as a whole wasn’t exactly a resounding success. Erwin has entered one of his silent moods since his customary speech to the regiment around lunchtime today. Tomorrow, everyone has the day off.

Erwin’s silent moods are easy to predict, despite how jarring they are. If Erwin could help it, they wouldn’t happen—he wouldn’t let himself be inconvenienced by them.

Anyway, a problem that Erwin can’t solve is in his mind a shame. Therefore, Levi doesn’t complain, and brings as little attention to his coping mechanism as possible. It’s how Erwin deals with things that he thinks are his fault. And besides, Levi knows things about anomalous ways to cope.

He turns another page, tossing a stray piece of his overgrown bangs off his eyes yet again. Annoying.

Though honed-in on reading, he’s never not aware of his surroundings. He relaxes imperceptibly as Erwin comes to his side, and places his hand on his shoulder. With the other, he tucks the offending piece of hair behind his ear.

Levi looks up at him with a questioning tilt of his head. Erwin looks as tired as he feels, but at least he’s dressed for bed on a cold and rainy spring night. And more importantly, clean.

A certain weight to his features age him. Ghosts.

Erwin motions with his head in the direction the adjoining door, his personal quarters.

“Now?”

He nods reluctantly.

Levi glances at the grandfather clock. Shit, even he would be in bed by now. He didn’t realize.

“Shit. I forgot the time,” he amends, and stands, raising his hands behind his head to stretch. Somehow his back feels even more like lead than it did this morning.

“I’ll finish them on your day off.”

Erwin lips press as he arches one brow.

“Sleep enough. Maybe I’ll change my mind.”

A shadow of playful contempt shows through the cracks of his overall resignation. They both know that this is just another effort to get Erwin to relax. The true issue erupts when it’s needed both ways.

Levi can try. But falling asleep won’t be easy, just like how the death certificates weren’t easy, or hearing the jeers of the crowds upon their return wasn't. The past two weeks weren’t easy.

Nothing is easy right now, except crawling into bed with Erwin, even in short sleeves, and wiggling under the covers. With the dirt, mud, and blood down the drain, and the lost souls barred from entering on them.

Rest. I’ll make your sacrifices worth it. I swear to you.

He’s comfortably tired after several short naps throughout the day (including during their bath this morning). Unfortunately that means he can’t just pass out after his eyes close; instead he’ll see shadows, flashes of bodies missing parts, or contorted like dolls belonging to a disturbed child, bones protruding from weeping wounds.

Sleep is an impossibility for a while.

Levi opens his eyes. The lantern framing Erwin’s silhouette is bright. For however long, Erwin has sat there, staring indecisively at it.

Yes. When he gets quiet, Erwin can’t make decisions. Erwin is even wearing the felt blue trousers (and boxer briefs) he is now because Levi picked them out.

"Leave it on," he murmurs.

At the sound of his voice, Erwin visibly relaxes, then nods. He drags his hand down his face with a deep sigh. Sleeping is out of the question for both of them now.

Erwin matches Levi's worn gaze with his own.

“Hey, there’s no need to show me that shitty look,” he says softly. On his back, he opens his arms.

“Come here.”

Erwin joins him, sinking into his hold. He wraps his arms around Levi with his head resting squarely on his left chest, over his heart. It’s a little stiff because of their height difference, but he holds him in turn.

He mindlessly strokes Erwin’s soft hair, fresh from his shower, as he thinks of something to say. Long silences between them are comfortable, but he wants to make him feel better somehow.

Levi ruffles his hair gently. "What about the book?"

The book they’re reading together.

Erwin raises his head with a solemn look on his face. There's something about the tenderness in his eyes, feelings of which they wouldn't speak even if Erwin felt like it.

“‘No’ is as good of an answer as ‘yes’.” He combs Erwin's nappy bangs off his forehead. His eyes flutter, and then crack open. "I'm probably too sore to hold up a book anyway."

Erwin looks pained suddenly.

Levi raises a brow.

“L...” He raises himself up. “…Levi..."

He trails off, peering down at him.

“Yeah?”

Levi's eyes flutter as Erwin cradles his cheek, as if he were caressing something pure and easily stained.

He tilts his chin up. He comes closer and closer, until their lips brush together.

“Hm.” Levi easily takes the lead. He’s tired, but certainly not too tired to kiss Erwin. It’s selfish… but being on professional terms for two weeks left Levi missing this.

Nothing needs to happen. Actually, they’ve never had sex after an expedition. But being close to Erwin is reinvigorating to his being.

Whether it's slow or fast, Erwin kisses him like he has eternity to spend, one thing to treasure, and one goal: to kiss him. They kiss slowly.

Levi brings his palm over the nape of his neck, deepening the kiss. A quiet sound of approval hums between them, joining the sensation of Erwin’s warm breath washing over his face, and this peace filling his chest.

As their kiss deepens, Erwin's arm comes to rest beside his head. Their chests press together, but he's not on top of him. Indecisive.

But just the suggestion of Erwin's weight pressing him down makes him run warm. How the tender smacking of their lips grows messier and more feverish.

Before Levi gives in to Erwin's parted lips and takes in his tongue, Levi pulls away. Any longer and they may get carried away further than Erwin wants. Golden strands tickle Levi's forehead.

The result is a simple but smoldering look exchanged. Erwin doesn't look listless like before.

"Yeah," Levi consents, a faint rasp. "I'll say something if it comes up," he adds.

Levi understands that he'll speak when needed—hell, he's aware that Erwin likes his voice at all. Breaking that mysterious universal rule of blind submission was a resounding success after enough practice.

But he senses Erwin's insecurity in this state. It's important to especially him that Levi communicates. Spoken words are extra insurance.

He isn't alone in that insecurity, actually. He missed Erwin, more than he let himself feel while they were outside the Walls. That's why he swallows around a lump in his throat as Erwin presses a doting kiss to his lips before smearing them down his neck. His tongue appears, licking and nipping over his rapid pulse as his hand toys with the hem of his t-shirt.

Levi sighs, baring his neck to give him more room. Where his mouth goes, the skin soon cools, making him shiver.

Through with letting Erwin be so gentlemanly, he locks their hands, bringing them up under his shirt to spread over the hard muscles and raised lines of scars packed in his middle.

Levi winces. "Your hand's a fucking icecube."

Erwin huffs, hot breath spreading over his throat.

"It's not because I run warm," he growls, forcing annoyance as Erwin spreads his fingers, closing on his nipple and making him squirm. "Hah..."

"Hm," he hums lightly.

All Levi can do is gasp as he tugs the pink nub into a sensitive point.

His hand briefly disappears to peel up Levi's shirt, leaving it lumped below his neck. Erwin lowers his head, soothing the chill with slow licks of his tongue over his pricked nipple. A whine slips from him, loud to the point of embarrassing.

He lied. He's burning up now.

Erwin does all the right things in all the right ways. As his chest leans up, silently begging more, his hand slides down, closing on the firm bulge between his thighs.

"Ah—yeah..." he whispers.

What was a spark has transformed into a stoked burn. He slides his fingers through his silky blond hair and rubs distractedly.

He's pleased to feel Erwin's growing confidence. He mouths Levi's other nipple, sucking to bring it as hard and swollen as the other. He must taste how quick his heart is growing to beat.

He hooks his teeth into his bottom lip. Erwin is only rubbing and squeezing his hard cock, not enough, very not enough under layers. He's doing enough only to tease.

"C'mon," he whispers heatedly. "Know you can do better than that, Blondie."

He grunts, almost a moan at the sound of a challenge. He fleetingly sinks his teeth into the soft slope of his pec before moving up to his neck again, and instead of his hand, swinging his leg over for his thick thigh to rest on his crotch.

Levi gasps, pulling his hair, pushing on the new heavenly friction. What's even more, he feels Erwin's cock now, hard against his hip. Levi mouths a curse.

"F-Feels good," he whispers, grinding with a slow, but tight intensity.

Erwin practically trained him to talk, on those nights he edged Levi with his mouth. Look at me, Levi. How does it feel? Good? Do you like it when I kiss your cock?

"Don't stop."

Erwin groans with his teeth on his throat, a gravely sound he was clearly suppressing for some time.

He snags Erwin's hip, holding him in place. Desperately he swallows embarrassing whines. Erwin has a knack for that—making him beg and whine.

"Please," he mumbles.

For some reason, that gives Erwin a brief pause. Bringing Levi's cheek toward him, he kisses him hard, thrusting his tongue into his mouth in a messy outburst of desire.

It's not fair. It's hot when Erwin gets ambitious, hot when he drags his tongue down Levi's canines. He looks stupidly hot with his hair disheveled, cheeks ruddy, and boundless blue eyes lidded with desire.

Levi pulls off his shirt. Their hands snag on his boxer briefs, those following, and the huff of relief Levi makes once his stiff cock is freed. It slaps his pelvis, leaking at the tip.

It's clear when Erwin again hesitates. It's rare that he doesn't feel like taking charge, but Levi has no qualms about taking that role. He reminds himself over and over, He'd stop me.

He presses Erwin down on his back and swings his leg over so he's straddling his thighs. It's so obvious how turned on Erwin is that the idea of leaving his strained boxers on is laughable.

"These. Off."

Erwin reluctantly huffs in relief, visibly swallowing as they drop from his ankles. But before Levi can give his massive cock the slightest attention, Erwin steals his attention, his lips, back.

Levi huffs in amusement. He's suddenly being forward.

Erwin's hands flock all over his waist and hips, molding his thick flanks in his palms. Touching without making the commitment of asking Levi to do something one way or another. Clearly torn.

Levi rises up, hands closing on the top of the headboard so he looms over him a heavy amount. If he scooted up a little...

"Is this what you want?"

Erwin nods profusely, then hooking his elbows under Levi's thick thighs and hefting him forward.

He half-gasps, half-huffs as a weightlessness flips over his belly. He gets the message.

From the moment Levi's knees lay to rest above his shoulders, Erwin's attention lies on one thing. Before he has the chance to lower himself, his tongue darts out to lick his cock indiscriminately. As long as his mouth is on him, that's good enough for Erwin.

Levi's hips fall downward on their own, thighs wobbling as Erwin dutifully laps up what's oozed so far. He takes a handful of Erwin's hair, lowering himself finally with a choked curse.

He hears himself moan, as Erwin is already sucking hard—no patience indicative of him is present—with his tip sliding over his tongue, burying in his waiting mouth.

Erwin echoes the sound as those big hands he loves so much follow up, playing with the meat of his ass. Squeezing, spreading him open so that Levi gasps when that sensitive spot is exposed to air.

Levi has practiced. He wouldn't mind if Erwin put his fingers there, or pushed into his little rim like he's done with his tongue. That's not taking into account how many times he's imagined it.

His fantasies in this state are crippling in their temptation. His knuckles turn white, hooked over the headboard as he takes the initiative by fucking Erwin's mouth. How he's imagined riding Erwin's cock would be.

"Shit, you're tight..." he hisses.

Erwin just sounds so fucking pleased to hear that, he throbs. Erwin's grip hugs Levi's ass and thighs a bit tighter.

Just as soon as he speeds up and bears down a little harder, his body reminds him how worn out he is, and with a vengeance. His core begins to strain, hamstrings burning. What's just a little worse, his grip on the headboard is wearing out his hand more and more.

While focusing on how Erwin was feeling and how good it's felt to be near him again, he forgot. Even Erwin has avoided gripping where he's bruised or scraped.

He grunts, expressing a touch of frustration. Showing weakness is not only unbearable at any time, but this is embarrassing. He's even sensitive, Erwin knows that best, but the weariness is getting distracting.

He rests his forehead on his hand, breathing hard.

Some of the weight of moving is taken off him by Erwin and his hands gripping his thighs. He meets his hips more than halfway, but too soon, Levi's thighs are shaking in no attractive away.

He's slowed to a crawl when Erwin pulls off.

"Shit..."

He rests more on his haunches, muscles twinging. He grimaces—not from the bittersweet relief—as he curses himself. This... doesn't happen to him. But them having sex so soon after an expedition is unheard-of in the first place.

"I'm more worn out than I thought."

Erwin takes Levi's hand to get his attention, and his eyes land on his warily. He's gazing up, undeterred.

He clears his throat. "L-Lay for me."

Levi feels hot all over as he clambers off of him. Before he can so much as drag a pillow into place, Erwin does it for him. He presses Levi down on his back, he spreads his legs, and rubs the places that are hurting him until his body is loose and pliant.

Erwin cherishes his war-torn body with his hands, and with his lips, indiscriminately. His knees aren't exactly an erogenous zone, and neither are his biceps or his fingers, but he treats them as such. Levi can’t look at him as he does this.

He shivers as Erwin dots slow kisses up from his sternum, his chest and then attaching to his jaw. Erwin kneels between his legs.

Levi reminds himself not to overthink Erwin's feelings about him. But whatever he did to deserve this, he doesn't know. Part of it is because he was too weak to give him what he wanted, right?

He nibbles on the inside of his cheek and holds on as Erwin's lips decorate his jutting collarbones in kisses. It's the right thing to speak up about these things.

"...Sorry. I..." He cringes.

Erwin stops, and shows him an inquisitive look.

He meets it with a frown. "Doing all the work can't be fun for you.”

Well, he can already tell his answer by the way is is looking down at him. A near-imperceptible smirk doesn't reach his lips exactly, but he can still sense it, like he can sense the desire in his half-lidded blue eyes.

Levi rolls his eyes. “Right… You don’t have to say anything.”

Erwin closes his eyes, and comes to some resolution.

He opens them. "...Either way"—he plants a kiss to his blushing pink nipple—"I can make you feel as good as you des...deserve to feel," he whispers.

Levi searches his expression for any exaggeration. He can't find any, let alone a lie. "To take your mind off the past two weeks?"

"T-To cherish. The one good thing I have."

Finally, he just has to look away. He's blushing all the way to his ears, he can feel the raging heat, and this thing in his chest tightening up. Not trusting his voice, he just nods.

He feels a little guilty for making Erwin talk so much despite his obvious struggling.

A good thing. The one good thing. My one good thing.

He's noticed a trend.

Would it be selfish to conclude that he is easy enough for Erwin to talk to? Apparently not.

"You softy," he mumbles finally. Erwin peppers kisses to his firm nipples again, then across in the straight divot made by the gear he uses to fly.

Erwin raises an expectant brow.

"Do your cherishing, then."

With the ghost of a smile turning his lips up, Erwin latches his mouth on one of his tender nipples.

Levi hisses softly, eyes opening and shutting. “Erwin…”

Erwin hums to himself as he soothes his pricked nipple with his tongue. His other hand wanders up his inner thigh. Levi's chest leaps and falls as he tosses his head to the side.

Erwin smears kisses down his navel with just enough pressure to tease, soft smacks.

He licks around his sharp hipbone, nearing close to his hard cock. Closing his eyes makes the sensation that much more intense. He shivers in anticipation.

Erwin's fingertips are digging into his thighs just lightly, soothing the aching trembling from them. Those big hands can wrap around his thighs if he so wanted. He pins them down, wide apart, for now, with a startling amount of strength.

What is he planning?

Levi watches Erwin through his lashes. His eyes are closed, with a face that says there's nowhere he would rather be than between Levi's legs.

His fucking tongue, so close to his stiff cock. He's already as hard as before, if not more.

Erwin has no more patience than he did earlier, not really—he was taking it slow for Levi to recover from his collapse, certainly—when suddenly the fattest part of his cock is in his mouth. All of it.

"Fuck!" he gasps, his head falling back and his back arching up. He's fucking ambitious. To make up for the past half-hour, he seems intent on making him come in under a single minute, mouth sucking this tight and bobbing this fast.

"Erwin, Erwin, ngh..." he gasps uncontrollably. "What the fuck—fuck...!"

Erwin is pinning him, letting him get nowhere, but his hips tremble and snap forward on their own, chasing the pleasure at the back of Erwin's throat. Hands grabbing at Erwin's shoulder and his hair tighten into fists.

Erwin moans with a profound satisfaction, somewhere deep in his chest.

He can't even get out a warning in time. Every muscle, drawn tight, freezes when his balls tighten, throbbing when he begins to come. Weightless, hot, so fucking hot that his vision escapes him for a moment.

He shouts out soundlessly, it dissolving into a shaky moan as Erwin swallows every drop of his cum. The sensation leaves his toes curling, and him to whine helplessly.

He whimpers and struggles to hump Erwin's hot mouth until he feels a familiar embarrassment. Even after they got into this regularly, Levi's energy is about as boundless as his strength. It's not that Erwin doesn't satisfy him—exactly the opposite—but one climax doesn't tire him out, and he comes hard.

It's embarrassing. Erwin of course loves it.

So it's several moments before he sinks back down, and soft keening noises begin to slip out of him as he fails to twitch away when Erwin isn't stopping.

He slows down, but when he goes down, his nose buries in the trimmed wiry hairs; he swallows, like he intends to suck the soul out of him, and lathers his softened cock with his tongue when he comes back up.

But he's not soft for long.

"Dammit," he gasps. "Fucking, your mouth—too fucking fuck, Erwin..."

The tight sensations of Erwin swallowing his cock leaves him shaking. He makes involuntary attempts to close his legs to get some relief from what's quickly becoming overwhelming, but he can't move at all.

The reality of his own helplessness strikes a cord deep inside him. Processing a thought becomes an arduous task better spent shivering in pleasure as Erwin sucks his cock. He throws his head back, gasping softly in quick succession.

He slurps obnoxiously on his tip, so shamelessly, erotically filthy, leaving Levi to curl his toes in preparation as he sinks back down.

"Hah"—he whines at the ceiling—"F-Fuck... That's too good... baby. Baby...."

Erwin moans, and so fucking loud, a deep rumble that hugs his cock. Just how much is he getting out of this?

The fact that he's doing nothing, but turning Erwin on anyway, strikes him deep inside again. He's hard again, and the noises falling out of him are just slutty, but he can't fixate on it for long enough to muffle himself before Erwin takes away his ability to think again.

"Hah..." Another little whine slips out, feeling it twitch on Erwin's heavy tongue. He grips the sheets tight.

A thick shiver runs through him as his whole body tenses like a rubberband close to snapping. Erwin bobs his head in wet, rapid motions with that firm grip growing tight his trembling thighs, sinking in his fingertips until it hurts and his head is dazed and he's so fucking close—

“'Vin. That’s it that’s it, oh fuckfuck—…!”

His next climax feels punched out of him. He jolts when he reaches it, freezes, and then soft moans shake their way out of his gaping mouth. Combined with the pain makes him come so much harder.

Erwin drinks him down relentlessly. He feels like he's losing his grip or something—it's too much, it feels too good.

Because of all his tossing, his head has mostly slipped off the pillow, so he must gather the strength to raise his head and meet Erwin's glassy eyes, with his cock stuffed in his bulging cheeks. His face is ruddy and wet with sticky tears. He was watching him come, getting so much more out of this than Levi can even believe.

"Sh-Shit, 'Vin..." he whispers, cradling Erwin's cheeks, who stutters out a moan. "You're so—fucking thirsty, aren't you?"

Levi swears he's drunk on him, but he sees even Erwin shiver at his words.

He notices he's still bent in a deep kneel. Surely giving himself no relief at all. Surely doing it on purpose.

"E-Erwin." The words die in his throat as Erwin goes down, just warming his soft cock in his mouth, holding still. His hand closes on his balls, tugging and playing with them.

Levi is going to dissolve into a puddle on the bed before he can get a word in. That doesn't help his reluctance to speak up.

It's in how pensive and distracted he becomes, maybe, that makes Erwin notice. Either way he always notices. Erwin pull off his wet cock, just barely hard.

"I get that you don't want anything. But I do. Want you to want," he stammers out lamely.

Erwin doesn't look confused. But he seems reluctant to believe his own conclusion.

"Give me more," Levi says.

His brows lift, voice a rough rasp. "I'm—I'm not, pressuring you, am I?"

"If we're both worrying about that, then probably not."

The edges of Erwin's rosy lips curl up slightly, all swollen from sucking him, a mess from it. He's no longer smiling as he kisses Levi's bony knee, appearing pensive.

"You can... take care of me, or whatever cheesy line you always come up with. Stop worrying for tonight." He rubs Erwin's hair, and wipes the wetness from his ruddy cheek.

Erwin's eyes glint in the light, rich cobalt. "I'd—I'd always take care of you."

He worries the inside of his cheek between his teeth. It's very hard to scowl at him right now. Especially since Erwin is feeling talkative again just to say that.

"You're such an idiot."

This time, Erwin's slight smile reaches his eyes.

Erwin sits up, and with a fleeting kiss to Levi's lips, leans over him for the bedside drawer. He fishes around in it for the oil.

"I've fingered myself before," Levi offers mildly.

This stops Erwin right in his tracks. He slips the drawer shut, but he only has eyes for Levi. "Oh? ...How many?"

His eyes widen. He was just telling him—he didn't think simple words would turn him on.

"Times?—Or what?"

Erwin crawls between his legs, and spreads his thighs apart. His free hand just idles at his inner thigh, his little finger brushing against his hipbone. "Both."

"You expected me to keep count?" he tries to retort.

"So you did it enough times to lose count?"

Levi blushes bright red. "That's not what I meant. Pervert..."

He watches Levi as he oils his fingers until they're wet and glistening. And Levi watches him.

"Is what I'm doing right now perverted...?"

Levi bites his lip as his fingers brush up against his hole, and swallows. He covers his mouth and looks away. "N-No."

He adds more quietly, "I used three."

One prods inside, massaging the tight muscle almost. Levi gasps sharply, shutting his eyes tight.

"Did you enjoy it?—Using three fingers to fuck yourself?"

He's sure he didn't do anything to make Erwin talkative again. Enough to so effortlessly make his cock throb like this. Sheer embarrassment constricts his throat.

"I'm realizing I didn't. When you make it feel like this."

"Oh, Levi," he sighs, as if Levi was touching him right now and not hiding behind his elbow.

Suddenly his fingers disappear. Levi's eyes open, a panicked question of whether he said too much popping into his mind before Erwin lays down comfortably on his stomach with his ass in front of his face.

"Please tell me if I'm good at this, or extremely bad."

A whine is torn from him as Erwin spreads his cheeks apart, thighs shivering when not his coarse fingertips, but his hot and heavy tongue rubs against his hole. That's all it is at first, rubbing and swirling it in the slowest circles imaginable.

"Oh fuck," Levi inhales, hand shooting down and sinking into golden-blond strands again. "That's good."

He's imagined Erwin's tongue on and in him in this way, but just this moment blows his imaginings of even the orgasm Erwin would give him from this out of the water.

How is it going to feel when Erwin fucks him? He's refrained from thinking about it due to their sheer size difference. But Erwin is changing his mind by the moment.

"Keep going," he whispers.

How would it feel? To be that fucking full? Erwin's massive cock inside him and his soft insides stretching around him. Squeezing on him. The ridges around his fat tip catching on his hole, fuck.

Erwin moans. Levi can feel it, too—twitching to become loose and pliant for his tongue to slide inside him. It dips into him, and rotates in circles and circles.

Levi stutters a gasp as his whole body does, unable to fully process the pleasure from the sensations. Erwin's fingers dig into his thighs, narrowly managing to pin them in place. He feels hot all over, thinking then in a string for immediately forgotten curses and an apology for being unable to control the way his hole is rapidly fluttering around his tongue.

It parts obediently for it, and with Erwin moaning, licking into him, his strong nose digging into his taint and tickling something inside him that he slaps his hand over his lips to muffle—he's going insane. His breaths grow shallow. Nothing has ever felt so incredible, even their very first time together.

He whimpers obnoxiously as Erwin thrusts in with his heavy tongue. He can't stop himself from quivering.

To say nothing of how hard he is. His cock has dripped down his shaft, wet with Erwin's mouth and beet-red from overstimulation, but he can't get enough of Erwin. Nothing compares.

Regardless of how he quiets himself, the wet sloshing sounds are impossible to miss. Finally he moans, loudly, as Erwin's tongue retreats, and thrusts in faster. His insides clamp down on it every time he pulls out, as if in refusal to let it leave.

"Don't-Don't fucking stop... Need more. Fucking—please."

But this is just the beginning, isn't it. Before his fingers. Hot anticipation in him builds and builds.

Erwin's tongue pulls out, but not before his lips latch to his hole, leaving an open-mouthed kiss. He almost cries out.

The gentle snick of the oil opening makes him squirm in anticipation. And because Erwin doesn't have his hands on him anymore.

He locks his ankles behind Erwin's shoulders in protest, imploring him with lidded silver-grey eyes.

Erwin chuckles, no more than a raspy grunt as he crawls forward. "Are you needy?"

He recoils inside, glazed eyes opening. Erwin's cheeks are pink, contrasting so beautifully against his reddened lips and bright blue eyes. He's coating four fingers, leaving them slick and glossy.

Levi closes his eyes again. "No."

"I think you will be."

He won't admit it, but he loves it when Erwin gets like this. He's always quick-tongued, but when he's cocky, like he knows how Levi will feel, or knows what he's feeling despite coy denial.

Erwin kneels, and has Levi's legs bend comfortably out beside him before his middle finger appears at his hole and presses in. He's already so wet and pliable that it sinks in effortlessly.

"You're tight," Erwin says softly, the words drenched in unquenched desire. Levi whines sweetly into his arm. "Do you need more oil?"

Levi's brow puckers as he analyzes the feeling. He settles on shaking his head. It's not that different from his tongue at first, but he discovers it's much longer. Feels weird, but nicer and nicer.

"Do you like this, darling?"

He thrusts it now. Levi's cock twitches, oozing more, again. Erwin asks such a thing despite his squirming and weak attempts to raise his hips.

"Mm," he hums. "Mhm."

Some feeling flutters in his belly like a feather. Something else to add to the long list of things he has come to like about Erwin is that he checks in with him often, but not in a coddling manner. He came to like it as Erwin made it abundantly clear that his feelings matter to him.

A second finger prods inside him, sinking in slowly, and, there. Levi groans and raises his hips—already two of Erwin's fingers are thicker than three of his own, to none of his surprise.

He throws his arm out for anything to hold onto as Erwin spreads and scissors, and lands on the sheets. "Fuck. It's good."

Erwin kisses his inner thigh. "Good."

It's tight at some points, but Erwin is too careful, and has the patience for such care, that it doesn't hurt at all.

If he ever needed a distraction from the stretch, Erwin's lips float down and mouth over his thick balls. A pathetic noise between a whine and a gasp lifts Levi's chest.

Erwin hums from low in his throat. With two rocking in and out of him, he knows what he's murmuring. "Does that feel good, my beloved?"

"Yes," he rasps.

Erwin's mouth roams and skips upward, licking up the mess at the base of his stiff cock. He licks him like he's candy.

Dazed and whining, Levi touches Erwin's fingers spread over his waist, his hair, his jaw as it moves, anything.

His third finger makes Levi's head fall back. He gapes soundlessly as his insides flutter and stretch. So big. His lips. So soft. Mouth. So fucking wet.

"Oh fuck!" Levi cries out. "Fucking right there, right there..."

His abdomen muscles visibly tense, hips undulating uncontrollably. Pure pleasure joins the blood in his veins with Erwin's fingers pushing over a firm spot he couldn't have been aiming for. Erwin trumps him in size too much for his own good.

So good. Somewhere, his core and leg muscles are achy again, but the pain is a silent whisper amongst the rampaging pleasure.

Erwin moans softly, not even touching himself, not even doing anything. "Fuck, Levi."

The sound of a curse from Erwin's mouth burns him red-hot. He claws at his arm, wrenching the sheets in his grip, whispering, pleaseplease under his breath like a prayer. He's needy.

"Want it here?"

Erwin's hand travels from Levi's slender waist to his cock, pinning it to his belly. It's utterly swallowed in his palm, but it's his finger, stroking over his sensitive slit, that makes him writhe and tense.

"Yes."

His fingers pump inside faster. They press on that spot.

"Goddammit, you're gorgeous," Erwin breathes.

"I can't, fuck, Erwin—!" Levi tosses his head. His hips move all on their own, rushing to meet his fingers. If Erwin stops now, he'll fucking die. He slaps his hand down on Erwin's, where he's fondling him, and moans at the ceiling. Erwin sounds just as out of breath as him, if not more.

“I can’t. Can’t last. S’too much.”

"I know, I feel you're close," he soothes, his voice all low, fucking enticing. "Just let it go for me."

He comes so hard that he feels outside himself for a moment, pleasure unable to be contained to just his body. He blacks out for a moment, or he thinks so, before the explosion hits him full-body, all at once with his eyes rolled back. His thighs, every inch of him trembles.

He just knows Erwin’s eyes are locked on his slackened jaw and terse brow, and the cum spilling onto his navel, and somehow that knowledge just defeats him.

When he drops back down, his eyes brim with unshed tears. His raw cock twitches over his navel, still oozing cum. Erwin still uses his fingers, but slower now.

“Such a good boy, Levi…” Erwin murmurs, his voice like honey. Eyes meeting, his might as well be made of diamonds. When Erwin looks at him like this...

He covers his face with his elbow as a strangled, but wet whimper escapes.

Erwin slows down, almost to a stop.

“No please…” he begs. “Please. Please.”

Erwin crawls forward to hover over him, but honors his request by rocking his fingers slowly.

Levi wastes no time grabbing onto him now that he can, which means revealing his face.

"Tell me to slow down, and I will." Erwin brings down his hand, wiping the tears before pressing doting kisses to his eyelids and cheeks for good measure.

Levi shakes his head stiffly, mouth moving but failing.

"This is intense? Is it overwhelming?"

He nods, quickly.

"And you want more?"

Levi blindly nods at whatever he’s saying. He's having trouble reading between the lines, managing to grasp that Erwin is still preparing him, and that Erwin is checking in, that Erwin is loving this.

“Look at me, angel.” Erwin turns his cheek with his knuckles.

Levi manages to peel his eyes open as little whines well up, and he navigates the confusing borderline of pain and pleasure. Erwin's voice makes him feel calm, and his lips to his jaw inspires the anticipation once again. His blue eyes are cautious, but serene.

“There you are. Does this feel good?”

He nods, over and over. He’s weeping, he realizes.

“Mhm?” His breath fans over his parted lips. “How about one more?”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

Erwin presses a lasting kiss to his lips.

He works his fingers out, giving Levi something of a break as he coats them in more oil. The momentary reprieve also lets him take in the wreck he has made of himself as he peels his wet bangs back over his forehead. His pale skin is glossy from sweat in most places, and sticky with cum streaking his navel. To say nothing of how raw and messy it is. His thighs tremble.

He's not even sure if he can come again, but he wants Erwin all the same.

"Are you still very sore?"

Levi opens his eyes and gathers himself. "I want you."

He watches Erwin's blush glow deeper. His blue eyes soften, lidded with passion. As he leans forward, and as he looks at Levi like he's the pinnacle of what little good is in this world, Levi can hardly breathe. He kisses him softly.

Erwin's voice, then, is a crude rasp that only he will ever be blessed to hear, barely restrained. "I've got you. I've got you, dove. Put your arms around me."

Levi melts as Erwin's weight presses him down with their bodies irrevocably intertwined. He's between his legs, and as they breathe, from his hips to his chest, he is pressed against him. Levi lets his bent legs rest loose and comfortable outside Erwin's waist, arching blindly into him while Erwin positions his cock. His arms can hardly close around his large frame.

Erwin grips Levi's hip to steady him. "Tell me again if I'm bad at this."

"I'll tell you to..."

The sarcastic quip dies on his tongue as blunt heat and weight dips past his rim. Above all, he's big. Erwin gasps or moans as he pushes in, and his walls stretch around it.

Bigbigbig…

Levi gasps. He's practically sputtering as their sweaty foreheads press together, and they breathe heavily into one another.

It's not as Levi expected, but much, much better. Even now Erwin is considerate of his feelings. He doesn't slam into him with no regard to how intense it is even after all that preparation.

He rocks in and out in slow, shallow movements. From Levi barely holding him inside, to a steady sinking into him. Levi gapes soundlessly as he quivers uncontrollably around him, with Erwin caging in his head, with Erwin slurring praises against his cheek.

“Am I hurting you?”

“Ngh. Mm…”

He's so fucking full. And finally, a long moan streams from his mouth with Erwin's pelvis grinding against his ass, hips squishing together.

"Ah, god." Erwin's fingers clench in the pillow beside his head. "God, Levi. God."

“‘s… good… Good…” he groans. It throbs inside him. "Fuck me."

Erwin speeds up from the offset, hurried as the mask that hid his desperation begins to crumble. He cradles the back of Levi's head so tenderly.

Isn't this better than sex? he finds himself thinking. This pleasure runs deeper than the body. It makes 'love' a cheap term. It doesn't say much that Levi can't come up with a name for it, but he's sure of his instincts in place of what he doesn't know. It's pure, ancient, and with Erwin it's right.

It simply is as Erwin slams into him, and Levi's leg spasms in efforts to raise and bring his cock deeper into him. Erwin snaps his hips gradually, so he doesn't come too fast. He's loud in the tender flesh of his neck, and tense everywhere.

But Levi has him beat with the pitched moans Erwin reels out of him, despite the downright filthy squelching between them. Even the slap of skin against skin. The mattress, creaking. Is he really that loud?

He doesn't have the words, only tears. Shivers that pulse in him and through him each time Erwin pulls out, as his walls drag and cling to it because his body especially wants this.

It begins to confuse him where Levi's lips end and their joined hands begin, or who is tensing and how much. Whose nails drag down the other's back.

He wishes his body wasn't so tired. He can barely hold up his wobbling thighs. Even his core burns from the exertion.

Erwin's ability to read him is a bit more uncanny than usual. He slows to a stop and brings his arm around his shoulders, the other bracing his thigh.

"Hold onto me," says Erwin.

Easy. He whimpers and claws at his back as it shifts inside him with the change in position—Erwin bringing him to straddle his lap so that gravity does the work for them. Levi's hips dip to the bed outside Erwin's hips, parting his legs just about as wide as they can go.

His raw cock is left pinned between his navel and Erwin's muscular middle. Any movement at all delivers a fiery lash of friction that makes his head spin.

But he likes his own helplessness. There's no way to wiggle away or close his legs, leaving him at Erwin's mercy. Erwin who takes care of him.

"There." Erwin's eyes search his own. "Is that better?"

He nods shakily, eyes closing.

It slipped out of him at some point. Levi feels behind himself, curious, breath hitching. He could easily slip four fingers inside his wet and puffy hole.

Their arms brush as Erwin lines his cock up again, probing inside, slipping past Levi's fingers. A sob springs from his chest. His cock stretches him, and fills him up all over again.

"You're perfect," Erwin groans. His warm breath and the words that contained it kiss Levi's face.

"Mph."

Levi bends his back, arching like a cat. It's deeper than before. Somehow impossibility deeper.

He can relax like this too—he doesn't even have to hold himself up, or lift his hips. Erwin holds him in place as he does all the work.

He opens his eyes, and at the same time so does Erwin. The moment couldn't grow more intense when their faces are so close, while their bodies couldn't be closer together. Erwin's brilliant eyes have always been entrancing, and his fixates on them now.

Finally Levi cracks. "Need you to fuck me."

"Ah." Erwin moves in him again, slowly. His eyes fall closed, fighting to open. "I know, but I can't last… when you..." He chuckles, unable to complete the thought.

Levi shivers uncontrollably. This position doesn't let his cock angle away from that firm spot. The one that gives him such pleasure it pierces his very blood.

"Fuck!" he squeaks. "Fuck I can't I can't—Please, please, please…”

Erwin moans, kissing Levi’s plump and gaping bottom lip, and finally the last modicum of Erwin's control is lost.

Erwin's nails dig into his thigh as he pins Levi in place and rams into him with reckless abandon. Any pace he masterfully kept up earlier disappears in a chorus of creaking, and slapping, squelching and noise.

Levi senses Erwin’s impending climax just as much as his own. Tensing and tightening, the frenzied holds, hiccuping gasps, his, his squeals as calls of another's name slurs, the wet clapping bouncing off every wooden wall.

“Levi—! Levi Levi Levi—”

His name, gasped in frantic synchronicity with Erwin’s hips drives him over what edge is left for him.

He cries out, a moan that is just too weak to be more than a whine. It sounds like he’s crying, and he is. He jolts, as tight as a wire, and stuffs his face in Erwin’s neck as cum leaks from his raw cock.

“Oh, good boy—”

Levi cries out.

Tension that begged to escaped every moment he was pleasuring Levi—it pours out of Erwin at the moment his blood turns to fire. For that second his balls tighten up, he’s frozen to gasp, then reel as he pumps rope after rope of his cum inside him.

Levi savors every second, and he can savor several after Erwin restrained himself for so long.

His toes curl until they begin cramping from a different pleasure, of thick heat getting drained inside him, and Erwin’s tight grip as he does, as if he isn’t allowed to twitch away, even while his body tries to stave off the overwhelming fuck. He feeds off the hot, heavy throbbing, and his own quivering deep inside, something else he can’t control. Erwin moans so pretty in his ear.

Towards the end, a full second passes between each harsh thrust, and a low, satisfied grunt bombarding Levi’s mind. Anything else is blank.

When Erwin is finished, Levi collapses against his strong frame. No one moves as the room is filled with the sound of panting.

Erwin is soon to work rubbing the violent shakes from Levi's legs. He slips out of him slowly, but still, he whimpers in his half-asleep state as his cum soon begins to ooze from his hole, down.

“My beautiful love,” he murmurs in his ear. “Does anything hurt?”

He hums mildly, a no. In fact he feels different, good. He doesn't focus on it for long—one doesn't feel the need to over-analyze their instincts.

Erwin is stroking his back now. "Do you feel different, Levi?"

Levi manages to open his bleary eyes over Erwin's shoulder, biting his lip in sympathy. He probably doesn't mean covered in scratches. "Do you dislike it?" he asks.

"No. Not at all."

He closes his eyes. "Me neither."

He feels himself being laid back down. Erwin starts pulling away from him, but he's not having it right now, even to clean up.

Erwin gives in to Levi tugging him back down with an amused huff.

He maneuvers Levi onto his side with the same doll-like ease with how tired he is. He grunts in approval as their legs intertwine. He's sticky and sweating like a pig, but he's shocked that he's too tired and relaxed to care.

“Perfect. My darling. You're amazing... You're the most beautiful person I've ever known,” Erwin murmurs at random.

Levi melts for those words, melting into his arms. It doesn't feel like just words coming from Erwin. Trust in them is so complete that it hurts.

“‘m really tired. But… I feel the same,” he whispers. Levi has to hold his breath to hear himself. He smolders with emotion and an odd embarrassment at hearing himself speak them.

Erwin’s breath trembles when he sighs, an expulsion of emotion. "I'm glad Levi."

Levi nods like a dumbass, realizing he is one as soon as he does it. They don’t say these things during even what he’d define as ‘special’ moments; they don’t say it before they leave on expedition (it would feel too final; a bad omen), but they were expressed their first time together, and here again, at their second.

eruri masterlist | main masterlist

[peasthedumb]

Mini vent (dw, nothing serious, basically just complaints. It’s written kinda long so there’s a tldr)

[tl;dr]: I’m staying over at my youngest brothers caravan for a week, and I REALLY REALLY want to go home because I feel REALLY uncomfortable, unsafe and trapped and out of place, but I’m 4 hours on a train from home and it would break his heart to try leave early.

So, context: my idea of fun is chilling with my comfort group of family humans. We sit, we don’t talk, maybe me and my oldest brother watch a game we both like, his girlfriend plays sims, I play my own games, it’s real chill, real fun. We don’t go outdoors or do extravagant things or have to host and please- we literally just do nothing. It’s great.

So what am I complaining about? My other younger brother, lives by the sea, super autistic (diagnosed), really extroverted, being hugely silly. Hes 10 years older so he loves me as his baby sister (I’m definitely more mature than him). So anyway he’s been feeling lonely lately living away from the whole family and he just got a new caravan with his new gf, so he wanted me to come over for a few weeks. I do not want to leave my comfort zone, but eh, it’s good for him, I agree to one week. So anyway, yeah, it’s hell.

3 days and I’m already worn to the bone, he needs constant entertaining, wants to do something every day, his girlfriend is coming back tomorrow and it’s gonna be 10x worse. She seems lovely but with all due respect, I’ve never met her before, and my brother is already pushing the edge of my comfort bubble. Everyone is very very lax and chill and touchy, which is fine, exept I’m a super terrified asexual, and the amount of fucking times I’ve had hands on my waist or hips and obviously it’s all casual and chill but it’s SO uncomfortable, and I don’t have a bed, or any normal comforts, and everyone is different here, and I just want to go home. I really really want to go home, like really really. I miss home, I’m homesick, I want my people back, the pets, my bedroom and safe space, Ive cried every day I’ve been here, I just feel so tired and uncomfortable and unsafe, and it’s an entire 4 hour train back, so it’s not even like I can just pop over, or ask for someone to come get me.

Im fucking at stranded in the middle of nowhere with nobody, nothing, nowhere of comfort, and I cannot express just how much I want to go home. I feel so uncomfortable and tired.

But my brother , super autistic, has been SO exited to have me, and he’s SUPER exited about me meeting his gf and bringing her into the family group, and he’s loving having me here, and he’s been SO sad leading up to this because he misses me and the family. I’m actually trapped, I just want to go home.

[hlficlibrary]

heyooooo im looking to get hurt. idk if there's a fic out there like this where harry gets full on cheated on and dumped or even worse and louis swoops in either as a stranger or friend to lover type situation.

Hello, anon...here are a few fics that fit with what you're looking for...

Nobody shines the way you do by wildestdreams / @lavendrhaze

“We might as well just date.”

Harry froze in his arms, his body stilled as he slowly lifted his head up at Louis to give him the most confused expression he’d ever worn. Louis literally wanted to fuck him into the next century. “What?” Harry asked. “Are you--.”

“No,” Louis said, shaking his head before Harry could go far with that idea and trap Louis into confessing his own feelings. “I mean...like I think I have a plan?”

“A plan?” Harry said slowly. “A plan other than me going to Peter’s tomorrow and groveling for hours; maybe even days?”

The thought of Harry doing that made Louis’ skin burn, but he schooled his expression well and nodded swiftly. “There will be no groveling. Well, there will be, but not on your end.”

or Louis pretends to be Harry’s boyfriend to help him win back his douchebag ex-boyfriend, but things don’t go according to plan.

There You Are by lovelarry10 / @chloehl10

“How do you know I’ve got problems?” Harry asked, cocking his eyebrows at the man next to him, suddenly full of a deep desire to confess everything if it kept Louis’ eyes on him for the rest of eternity.

“Your eyes,” Louis said with a shrug. “They look a bit sad. I don’t like that. So go on, unburden yourself to your friendly neighbourhood stripper.”

“You’re not just a stripper,” Harry mumbled as he took another sip of his drink, mentally debating with himself over how to word what he was about to say before he figured he’d just say it in the simplest way possible. “I found my husband in bed fucking another man.”

* * * * *

Harry’s entire life has fallen apart - in one night, his carefully planned future is suddenly uncertain.

Then he meets Louis.

Found My Hallelujah by crimsontheory / @ireallysawanangel

As an engagement gift from his parents, Harry and his fiance receive an all expenses paid cruise trip for two. But one week before they're set to sail, Harry walks in on his fiance cheating on him. Newly single, with the cruise tickets in hand, and his bags already packed, Harry brings along his sister instead. And maybe the cute bartender on the ship might just be the person Harry needs to help him put back together all of his broken pieces.

Give Me A Minute by Prncelouie

By the time he was 23 Harry had it figured out. He had married his best friend and college sweetheart, moved to London, and become fast friends with his elderly, lesbian neighbors. By the time Louis is 25, he has lost his job, is losing money fast, and has lost yet another boyfriend. Having no other choice, Louis moves in with his aunts who are helping their young neighbor get back on his feet as well. By the time Louis meets Harry, Harry has an impending divorce and a new therapist. OR the one where Harry discovers his husband cheating on him and his new neighbor Louis might just be the one to help pull him back from the edge.

When You Know by @allwaswell16

Years of living in the shadows has taken its toll on Louis Tomlinson. When he’s offered a chance to leave behind his life as a hired assassin, he intends to take it.