#but apart from the other reasons the current weather is really fucking with me

[swingingliveaway]

I got invited to a kind of get together / birthday party thing earlier this week which sounded fun, but also kind of really triggered my anxiety (I know why, but that doesn't make it less annoying), so I decided not to go and let the people who invited me know, and now I'm anxious about whether they think that was rude. I hate this brain.

[arxxq]

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ It's cold..when you're not around

╰┈➤ ❝ [now that you’re here...i finally feel warmth again ] ❞

In which: the story of two lovers who were actually for once made for one another, but unfortunate for them, fate wasn’t on their side, so with that, their love story ended in such a tragic way...

Characters: Itoshi Rin and fem! reader

lowercase intended

angst? written in third person pov

this is my first time writing angst..

mistakes will be fixed once i reread.

A/n: first time writing my laptop and switched to tablet as well...

----

It all began in a heavy rain during a snowy night. the home of where the two lovers live was nothing but quiet as one of was pacing in the living room worried for the other. why was the other so worried? maybe because her significant other has not return home since early this morning. as she was pacing in the living room, she thought of many possibilities on where her lover could be. 

her pacing stopped when she heard the door opened to reveal her one and only love, itoshi rin was his name. out of anger and frustration, the female yelled at him while her body was clearly trembling due to how cold it was.

“where have you been all day?! do you even know what time it is?!” the girl yelled relieved yet mad towards her lover. her lover meanwhile was not in a good mood and because of that he just scoffed walking in the house without saying anything. “are you even listening to me right now?” she yelled again but this time out of confusion and disbelief on the way her lover was currently behaving right now. rin groaned. “i wasn’t out for that long, i was just practicing okay,” there it is again. you sighed. “why do you always do this to yourself? i don’t fucking get it..” she mumbled but unlucky she is, rin had heard her clearly. 

“i fucking told you didn’t i? i’m doing this to beat my brother, what part of that do you don’t understand,” he snapped. y/n looked at him scared. her body was not only shivering due to the temperature, but also due to fear. “sometimes i wonder why i fell for you in the first place...” those word out of his mouth..that had finally shattered her into pieces of glass. “all you do is whine almost all the time,” 

“and if things couldn’t possibly get worst, you would always start nagging me and stuff!” you held in your tears throughout all the hurtful words he was saying. “you’re nothing but a burden to me nowadays,” as he finish with his hurtful sentences, y/n breathe out a shaky breathe and scoffed continuing with a chuckle. “a burden huh? maybe that’s also the reason why you’re brother chose to cut ties with you..”

“i should’ve listened to my friends...but due to being blinded by love i didn’t and gave you a fucking chance...i can’t do this anymore, at least not with you,” y/n spoke out with a wobbly voice. “i think we should have some time apart,” with those words, you went out of you’re shared home and went into the cold weather. 

walking down the streets, y/n was freezing to death. she really didn’t think that time. all she was wearing at the moment was a thin sweatshirt. not even a coat nor a scarf to keep her warm. not to forget it was raining, she didn’t even bother to bring an umbrella along. i guess due to the heated argument that happened earlier, she couldn’t think straight. and she clearly wasn’t thinking straight right now as well. 

----

when his lover finally got out of the house, rin finally realized what he had done. he didn’t mean to snap at his love no. he was just so angry at that moment and it seems like he accidentally let out his anger on y/n. no he was the one to worry. from what he had recalled, you had went out of the shared house with nothing but a thin sweatshirt on. 

he pulled out his phone pacing in the living room, he searched for you’re contact and dialed it. this time it was his turn to feel worried and panicked for the other. what surprised him was that it went straight to voicemail. why did it do that? he tried calling you multiple times but it still went straight to voicemail. before he tried to dial you again, another number had called him. he picked it up anyways due to curiosity. 

but he did not expect for it to be about you. 

“excuse me sir but is this Itoshi Rin?” rin held his phone while his hand was trembling. “yes it is,” he replied in a tremulous voice. the other side of the phone had went silent for a while but after that the man said something that would shatter the itoshi even more. "we're sorry to inform you but..you're significant other had gotten into an accident.."

××××

Rin rushed to the hospital as fast as he could. He couldn't believe what he heard from that man but he knew that it couldn't possibly be a joke right? Because that explains why it went to voicemailvwhenvhe tried to call her earlier. Rin was worried hut also scared, he can't lose his love...he just cant but it was too late, the moment he arrived near the emergency room, he heard the sounds of y/n's sister crying while the doctor's head was hung low and that was enough to make him feel devastated.

That incident occurred a year ago. Till this day onwards, rin still blamed himself for it. "If i didn't snapped at you..then maybe you would still be here with me.." those thoughts would constantly be in his head whenever he feels alone or cold.

Right now he was infront of the grave of his deceased love along with her sister as well. Just as rin was about to leave, izuru, her sister stopped him. "Here take it..y/n wrote this for you a long time ago and I just figured it's time I give it to you..," it was nothing but a black envelope sealed with red wax. Rin took it from izuru and with that he left the graveyard.

He then proceeds to go somewhere where only y/n and him would go. It was under a tree but due to the snow the tree along with the ground was covered in snow. Once he made sure the coast was clear, he opened the said letter. From what he observes so far, it was confirmed from y/n since he recognised the neat calligraphy handwriting of hers. The letter wrote:

Dear my dearest love..Itoshi Rin,

If you receive this letter it means I'm no longer in this world, and if I ever hurt you during my last moments with you, please know that I do not mean it. I do apologise if my last moments with you were not the best moments. And if you said hurtful words to me during my last moments as well, I might take it at heart but I know deep down you don't mean it as well. If our last moment with each other end in an argument I'm so sorry...and if it did end in an argument then please know that it isn't you're fault my love.

I want you to know that even if I'm no longer near you..that doesn't mean I'm not watching over you. I promised you that I'll always be with you so I really am sorry that I didn't fulfill it till the end. Dear love...I will always love you even if we have our ups and downs..even if we have an argument no matter what I'll still love you. But my love..just because of my death that does not mean I want you to unhappy. I know it's not easy to move on but I don't want you to hold my death as a burden as its not you're fault.

I love you my love..forever and always. I swear not even death could kill my undying love for you.

Love you're dearest lover

Y/n L/n

Rin breathe out a wobbly sigh, "I've always asked 'why is it so cold?' But now I realised that it's because I don't have you're warmth to comfort me anymore..." rin continued to let out a chuckle to mock himself.

"If I could take it all back....I would, I guess life wanted to be unfair and maybe all this time my love, we were just not meant to be...but even so I have always loved you dear,"

Reblogs are highly appreciated

Do not claim as you're own

[easypeasylindyvesey]

I Think it’s Strange We Never Knew: Jimmy Vesey x fem!OC

Summary: After the unforeseen death of Abby’s boyfriend, one of the NHL’s star defenseman and her teammate, she severely struggles with managing her grief. She confides in Jimmy Vesey, who is not only another teammate of hers, but is one of the very few people she has a strong friendship with. That is until that night and the days that followed. Does this life-altering news change the trajectory of their personal perceptions of each other? Or does it entail a chance of crossing boundaries for the risk of moving on?

Word Count: 15,077

*(General) Warnings: (foul) language, mentions/discussion of death, suicide attempt (brief, closed door description), eventual confession of feelings, grief, panic attack(s), angst, eventual sexual implications but no smut, age gap

*Note: This story takes place in the future. Abby is 24-25 and Jimmy is 33-35.

OCTOBER 2027 (Warnings: foul language, angst (LOTS of it, mainly toward the end), consumption of alcohol, choking, jimmy still in his emotionally unavailable era)

‘October is about trees revealing colors they’ve hidden all year. People have an October as well.’

It’s safe to say Jimmy hasn’t fully unleashed his yet.

His moments come and go. They’re far and few between, but if you catch him at the wrong time, you’re in for a rude awakening.

Not to mention the fact he moved his box. Yes, I checked whenever he left the apartment. It didn’t matter if it was only 5 minutes. He obviously took huge offense to it. I’m not really sure why, but it set him off quite a bit to make that change. We haven’t brought it up since. I’ve just become more aware of how even I can’t be trusted not to invade his space.

He hasn’t explicitly stated that to me, but it’s just a reasonable inference. There’s plenty of shit I haven’t explicitly stated to him either. But, as already mentioned, it’s going to come out one way or another. Don’t know when, don’t know how, don’t know the damage it’ll do.

What I do know is he can’t hold all of it in forever. I’ve always seen him as someone with a calm demeanor, never raises his voice, trying to find ways to intervene to benefit the people involved in an argument.

I guess you could say for right now, it’s him vs. me.

And he’s sure as hell not winning.

Preseason has wrapped up, so we’re spending the last of our free time doing our best to relax.

I think I’d feel better if I didn’t drink a cup of coffee every single day, but I started buying hot chocolate because it’s getting chilly out. Fall and spring are my favorite seasons. They’re different in their own ways, but it’s the same feelings I get to process.

While this fall will not be like any others, the leaves will remind me that sometimes, change is good.

Which explains the current process of taring open a packet of french vanilla hot chocolate mix as the breeze flows through the living room windows, the bleak weather dampening not only everything outside, but my chances of even trying to get through to Jimmy.

The standoffishness has not disappeared, nor has it emerged from another place, if not his head, but it does lead back to yet being in another rut. I’m not sure if he wants nothing to do with me, in hopes his attitudes will pass on, but if you really think about it, he’s having a hard time trying to figure out who to open up to. It’s definitely not me anymore.

I’m mixing my hot chocolate mix in my mug, being careful with trying not to spill any on the counter. I hear footsteps creak across the wood floor. I don’t even need to look up to know he’s staring at me, probably judging, for all I know. “Abb, it ain’t even cold enough for that yet,” he says.

“You sure you don’t wanna drink it?” I suggest. “Perhaps it’d warm your heart up.”

He decides to take the high road and not respond. 

“The fuck do you care so much about what I do?” I continue throwing a shot at him, still not looking up.

“It’s just common sense,” he argues back.

I grip my hands on the counter, lifting up my head to be met with his death glare. The one that is so, unfortunately, familiar.

“Common sense would be talking about how you feel.” I turn my back toward him, mug in hand.

“Feel about what?”

I let out a frustrated sigh. “About how I’m gonna fucking kill you.”

“At first if you don’t succeed…” He trails off.

“I’m not gonna try again,” I feel the need to remind him.

“I was going to say you’d deflect it on to someone else, but hey, that reassures me.”

I want to drop my mug on the floor and break it on purpose. I really want to reenact the night where I broke the glass cup. But I know that won’t do me any good.

Doing my best to focus on the task at hand, I turn on the stove to warm up the milk in the saucepan. At this rate, I want to burn down this apartment. That can give him the chance to know how it feels to lose something extremely important to you. He’ll care about it this time.

“Careful not to burn the milk,” I hear Jimmy say from behind me, only to step back and feel my entire body tense up, as he decided to stand over me, watching the milk move around. I don’t know what he’s trying to get at. He’s the one that apparently needs space, so he’ll come and invade mine. Got it.

“No, I will,” I tell him, digging my heel into his ankle, signaling him to back away.

But he doesn’t. “Then that’d be a waste of a packet.” His sock brushes up against my foot.

I turn around to face him so he can get the fuck out of my way, but my elbow makes contact with the handle on the pan, and what does it do, in casual fashion?

It spills.

Right onto my feet. Scalding hot.

“The fucking hell did you just do?!” I yell, tears brimming my eyelids. I turn around and turn off the stove, pain already spreading on my foot. “God, it fucking burns!” I hold onto the refrigerator door for leverage, an audible shriek escaping my mouth. It’s incredibly red. I can feel the blisters forming as I keep my eyes shut in hoping it’ll hurt less.

Jimmy’s hand finds mine hanging onto the door, moving it down to my side so he can open the fridge and retrieve a bag of ice from the freezer portion. His fingers are still lightly attached to my own. “Sit,” he tells me. 

Reluctantly, I sit on the floor between the fridge and the oven, watching him bend down and meet me on my eye level, placing the ice down on my left foot, clenching my hands into fists to brace the contact. I can’t help but start to cry.

“Abb, I’m sor-”

“Shut the fuck up,” I hiss, staring at him through my teary-eyed glasses. “This-this gotta get fucking bandaged now, hell, it could fucking scar. Yeah, let’s add another one to the collection.”

“I-”

“Why the hell were you even towering over me in the first place?” I feel that’s a necessary place to start.

And as per usual, I don’t get an answer. His hand is still pressing down on the bag of ice.

“What is wrong?” My voice cracks. “Seriously, Jim, What is wrong?”

“I-”

“Don’t you dare tell me you don’t know.”

He sighs. “I don’t know.”

I lean my head back against the wall and then lift it back up. “Yes, you do.”

I can feel him take the glasses off my face and place them down on the floor. 

I can feel his thumb gently brush underneath my eyelids to wipe away the stained tears. I don’t move.

“Abby, I really don’t know.”

I sniff loudly. “Do you want to talk to someone?”

Jimmy shakes his head. “No.” He looks away and then back to me. “You can’t fix it.”

“Fix what?”

“This.”

I stare at him again. The pain is still there, but not as evident. “I’m not following.”

“Never mind.”

“Jim-”

“I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

My heart stops as I readjust my sitting position on the floor. He can sense my shock.

He shakes his head. “No, no, not in that way. I just…I don’t know. I just can’t be in this headspace anymore.”

I am so confused.

“I think it’s time you move out.”

I can feel my mouth gape open. “Hey-”

“I really can’t deal with having to micromanage you. It’s every day. I’m walking on eggshells just to make sure you don’t fall into the cracks. It is exhausting. You are exhausting.”

Another round of tears well up in my eyes, but they don’t creep out.

“I think it’s gotten to the point where I need this back to myself. These last 7 months have had me waste my extra space. Waste my extra room. Waste my energy. God, Abb, I am so sick of this.”

“But,” my voice cracks again, “but you said I could stay as long as I needed to.”

“It’s been long enough, don’t you think?” I look into his eyes. They’re not filled with any regret.

I’m struggling to even get one word to escape my mouth. I can’t even figure out where this is coming from. 

I start to become more aware of the ice, the bitter cold sensation digging into my foot. I’ve somewhat attempted to recollect myself. “You can’t just kick me out.”

“It’s my apartment,” Jimmy argues, “and I pay for the rent, and the groceries, and pretty much everything else on top of that, which means I’m paying for an extra room that I really don’t need.”

I roll my eyes. “Then you should’ve just gotten one bedroom. It was your idea to have a spare.”

“I didn’t think it’d be occupied for seven months,” he deadpans.

“Should’ve thought long-term,” I mumble.

He stands up and I watch him walk into the bathroom and turn on the light, returning not longer than a minute later with an unopened pack of athletic wrap and neosporin. He sits down across from me, his back leaning against the bottom of the kitchen counter. Unscrewing the cap of the neosporin, he dabs some onto his index and middle finger before moving it ever so slightly on my foot. It clenches as a reaction.

“Try not to move it,” he says quietly. “Gotta give it time to work.”

I look out the living room window, watching the blue sky start to peak out of the clouds. Even they’re trying to break free from something they want to escape. That’s what he’s trying to do to me.

We sit in silence as he continues applying neosporin on the burns, moving so swiftly, so delicately like he’s repairing the glass I almost broke over his head. I’m sure if he was serious about me leaving, he’d tell me to take care of this myself. Instead, he’s doing it for me, perhaps to atone for his mistakes.

It becomes a little more uncomfortable once he’s wrapping the bandage around my foot, but I’d rather not rush his craft. Because again, he could’ve left me there in the same way he could’ve left me on the bathroom floor. 

And in front of the fireplace.

And in the hotel room itself.

And at the restaurant.

He could’ve left me in the hospital the first time. I’d have to find a way to get home.

He could’ve left me in the hospital the second time. I’d be left alone with people I didn’t know.

He had the choice to not take me in. It’s not like I ever imposed on purpose. It’s not like I knew I’d be living with him, let alone altering his future.

Whatever he’s doing, the passing of the blame and the failure to open up, I can’t tell if it’s all because of me or if there’s another underlying factor. Hell, there could be more than one.

But as he looks at me, those eyes holding a perceived softness, trimming the bandage with the kitchen scissors, trying to be so accurate, and so precise.

He’d know what he’d be giving up if I walked out.

He places the scissors on the floor and it snaps me out of my trance. “All done,” he tells me, extending his hand. “Need help getting up?”

I shake my head, propping myself on my hands and standing up before wobbling on my right foot. I walk down a couple feet to pick up my glasses off the floor, putting them back on my face. I turn back around to see him cleaning out the saucepan and taking out the milk from the fridge.

“What are you doing?”

He looks at me, the gallon of milk in hand. “Making you a new cup since I fucked up the first one.” That stupid smirk appears on the curve of his mouth. He points over to the couch with his free hand. “Go sit down and I’ll bring it to you when it’s done.”

I don’t even have the energy to retort against him. I say it quietly. “Thanks.”

“Seriously, Abb, I am so, so sorry.” By quick examination of his face, I know he means it. I’m sure.

I nod and don’t engage in it any further, hobbling over to the couch and sitting down in the middle, reaching for the remote in hopes the noise will filter out what’s happening behind me. I listen to the click of the burner, the pouring of the milk, the rustling around of the cabinets, the occasional deep exhales. If this is what it’s going to be like after every accident, every fuck-up, every argument, then yeah. Count me in.

I’ve chosen to immerse myself in watching “The Office”, only because it’s a perfect mix of comedy and seriousness (well, at least when it wants to be). The stove shuts off, which alerts me in knowing the milk is done being heated up. The sound of a cup glides across the counter and I hear the taring of the hot chocolate packet and it being poured into the cup, along with the milk. After the occasional stirring of the contents with what I would assume is a utensil, I hear those heavy footsteps of his make their way onto the wood floor, stretching out his arm, cup in hand. 

I give him a tiny smile. I hope he’s able to notice the hint of apology in there.

“Don’t drink it just yet,” Jimmy says. “Don’t want you burning your tongue too.”

I place the cup on the coffee table. “Yeah, well, that burn would go away a lot quicker.”

The couch becomes heavier as he sits down. A long sigh escapes his lips as he makes himself comfortable. Technically, he’s manspreading, and that’s always a dangerous position for a man to ever sit in.

“You’re not having breakfast?” I turn to him, examining his posture and awaiting his answer.

“It’s already past 10.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s still early. You got any bagels in the fridge?”

He laughs. “Nah, I, uh, I haven’t gotten around to buying any.”

Shaking my head, I return back to my original sitting position. “What a shame.”

He looks down at my legs, perking his head back up. “You should elevate that foot,” he instructs. 

I look around, pretending as if I’m expecting the common sense to fall out of the sky. “Yeah, where am I gonna put it? Can’t damage the table with the smudges. Plus, it’d start to smell.”

“I doubt the smell would even leak through the bandage.” He reaches behind him to retrieve the pillow located in the corner and tosses it to me. “Put that on there instead. No smudging or anything.”

I raise my eyebrows in skepticism. “Not with your sweaty self hogging it.”

He sputters out a laugh. “Hey, I literally just sat down. I haven’t done a damn thing yet.”

“Not that I know of,” I respond, taking the pillow in my hands and relocating it to the table. Propping up my left leg, I would say it’s a little more comfortable, but the friction that results from the bandages doesn’t make it a current situation that would be considered desirable.

Continuing my awkward sitting position after readjusting the pillow, I reach for my hot chocolate and take a tiny sip. It’s not piping hot, but definitely warm enough to make my insides tingle. I can sense he’s watching me, waiting for a reaction. “It’s good,” I tell him. “You really underestimate your ability to be useful in the kitchen.” I put the cup back on the coffee table. “You’ve got potential.”

“I’ll have you know I wouldn’t be able to survive here if I couldn’t cook any of the bare minimum meals.” He leans his head on the back of the couch, giving me a good look at his side profile.

“Yet it’s ironic you don’t have bagels in the fridge,” I retort back.

“Would you let it go already?” Jimmy asks. “There’s plenty of other crap in there we can feast on.”

“Name one thing,” I ask.

I’m met with a turn of the head and a blank stare. “Beer.”

I can’t help but snort. “You are so unserious.” I fixate my focus on the TV.

“Hey, life’s too short to be uptight,” he retorts back. “We’re both aware of that by now.”

I drown out the sounds of Michael and Dwight less than 5 feet away from me. “Yeah,” I say quietly.

“I know I can seem a little controlling at times, but seriously, Abb, it’s because I care. Even when I give you a hard time. I’m just looking out for you.”

“I don’t need you to,” I feel the need to confirm.

“And I know that,” he says back, more in a cautious way. “But at least you have me in case you do need me.”

“But I-”

“I know you don’t. Just accept it, Abb, kay? You’re never getting rid of me.”

I cock my head. “Is that so?”

“Trust me. A year from now, I’ll invite you over and we can watch games together. Make a night out of it.”

Now I give him a side-eye. “And how do you think that night would end?”

He notices my interpretation of that sentence because his cheeks start to flush, just in the slightest, putting it mildly. “I, I didn’t-”

I interrupt him with a laugh. “Would you relax, dude? I know you didn’t mean it like that. Besides, I’ll probably have moved on by then, so I can just go jump another man’s bones.”

A large grin appears on my face as his mouth falters open. “Well.” He clears his throat. “Thanks for clearing that up.”

I nod. “You’ll have your girlfriend taking over the guest room anyway.”

“I wouldn’t be too certain on that yet,” Jimmy repeats for what I feel is the millionth time.

Shaking my head, I return my complete focus to the TV. “I’m still shocked you’re not cuffed yet.”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna die alone, that’s all,” he responds.

“Would you cut it out with that?” I exasperatedly sigh, rolling my eyes. “You’re gonna have someone. Trust me.”

He scoffs. “I’m supposed to trust you?”

I know to take that as a joke, so I do. “Hey, if I had someone, you can, too.”

Now it’s Jimmy’s turn to shake his head. “It’s not that easy.”

I reach for my hot chocolate and take a sip. It’s already lukewarm, but I don’t care. “Tell me about it,” I say in agreement.

We spend a little while watching TV in silence, giving ourselves time to somewhat decompress. I feel it’s something we haven’t been able to do together recently. I’m glad we get the chance to now.

As I’m cleaning out my mug in the sink after sitting for so long, I come up with a question to ask him. “Do you know what you’re doing for Halloween yet?”

I hear him sucking in a breath over the running water. I catch his response as I turn it off. “I don’t, no,” he says in that monotone voice of his. “I don’t really care about Halloween.”

“I don’t care either, but we’re still planning on going out, right? Or do you wanna just sit in the apartment and watch ‘Hocus Pocus’?” I hold the soapy mug in my hand and turn around to see his swiveled head facing me.

“I mean, I’m all good with ‘Hocus Pocus,’ he says. “Not like we’re gonna get trick-or-treaters anyway.”

“You’re not gonna stop from buying yourself the mini Snickers, are you?” I flash him a tight-lipped, devious grin.

The beginning formation of his smirk emerges. “No. No, I’m not.”

I finish rinsing out the mug and put it back in the cabinet. I trudge along the floor, dragging my bandaged foot along. I stand in the space that I consider the overlap of the kitchen and living room as Jimmy stands up and takes the remote with him, muting the TV before turning to look at me again. He gestures down to my foot. “We’ll revisit that in a few hours, okay? If it starts to itch or it’s to the point where you can’t move it or even walk, you have to let me know.”

I deter my focus to the movement on the television. “I don’t want another ER trip,” I tell him, not quite looking at him in the eye.

“We will if you can’t move it,” he says, turning around and taking the pillow from the coffee table and tossing it back on the couch. “Just keep it elevated, change the bandaging every 3, maybe 4 hours, and we’ll go from there. It’s a temporary fix.”

I cast a sad gaze over to his line of sight. “Yeah. Could’ve been prevented, too.”

Not giving him the opportunity at having the last word, I slightly hobble toward my room, shut my door, and hop over to my bed and elevate my foot on yet another pillow, wishing I had a strong enough painkiller to knock me out, literally and perhaps figuratively, out of this current, irreversible state.

-----

The locker room is in high spirits after an opening night win. Everyone’s smiling, cracking jokes, raising the volume on the Bluetooth speaker to its highest altitude, secretly in hopes we all suffer from temporary hearing loss.

I happen to be the only one staring across at his locker, wishing he would be here to celebrate with us.

I know he’s here. Just not in the way I want him to be.

Everyone, for the most part, has already showered and changed back into their arrival outfits. I’m sitting in my uncomfortable heels, waiting for Jimmy to be finished with his shower so we can drive home. I’m too exhausted to shower here, and besides, I feel more comfortable doing it in an actual bathroom. It’s not like anyone’s gonna accidentally walk in on me, but I would rather not entertain the thought.

The room starts to become quieter as some of the guys start filtering out, going to meet up with their girlfriends/wives and go home with them. Can’t imagine how that feels anymore.

And so it leaves me and the rest of the staff, quietly perusing around, collecting the jerseys, the towels, anything that could’ve been dispersed during that celebration. I lean back in my stall and wait for him to emerge from the back hallway. Although, I could just take his keys and go sit in the Jeep until he’s done. It saves me the aggravation, along with my sanity.

It’s only a few short moments that I hear footsteps emerge from said hallway, but the voice doesn’t match Jimmy’s. “What are you still doin here?” It asks me.

I force myself out of my slumping sitting position and turn my body and am met with Will. In terms of nicknames, I call him Kool-Aid Man. It’s kind of a take on his last name, but I thought it was funny, so I kept it.

“Waiting for Jim,” I say, watching him walk across the locker room to his stall.

“Yeah, he just got out. Shouldn’t be too long.” He starts sorting through his gear bag.

A quick moment of silence. I don’t talk to Will often, but from what I’ve picked up on, he’s a nice guy, and he has a cat. I haven’t met him, but from the pictures I’ve seen, you can tell he’s adored and cared for. It’s almost a mutual bond, I guess? Like, we’re there for each other, but not in the way Jimmy and I are.

“You played great tonight,” I speak up, shifting in my stall.

Will looks in my direction, sitting in his stall and bending down to put on his socks. “Thanks,” he says. “So did you.”

I give him the tiniest bit of smiles. “How have you been holding up, you know, with everything?”

He seems a little taken aback by the question. “I mean, it’s still sad, don’t get me wrong,” he starts, “but we’re gonna work with it.”

I am so glad he said work with it rather than work through it. Now that’s a man careful with his words. Jimmy could learn a thing or two from him.

I nod. “Yeah. Just gonna take a little while.”

He stands up, walking away from his side of the locker room. “You want me to hang with you until Jim comes out?”

“No need for that,” a different voice protrudes, more clicking of dress shoes against the carpet. “Thanks, though, man.”

Will nods. “Sure thing. You, uh, you guys get home safe, ‘kay?”

“Of course,” Jimmy says before I even get the chance to. “You too.”

And with that, Will leaves, no look back or anything. “Night!” I hear him yell while down the hallway.

I stand up and wince in the slightest existence of pain. It’s mainly coming from my feet and these goddamn shoes. Grabbing my purse and phone, I stand up. “Now can we go?” I cock my head toward the open door.

Jimmy looks at me like I have five heads. “Yeah, Abb. We can go.” He says it with a combination of impatience and sarcasm. I can’t tell which way he’s leaning.

“OhmyGod, we can?” I retort back. “I thought you were gonna leave me here!” I dance across the carpet in my heels, exiting the locker room and speedwalking down the somewhat dark hallway, waiting for him to catch up as we head down toward the parking garage.

“When are you gonna fuck off with that shit?” I hear him say from behind me.

“When you stop threatening to do it,” I answer back. 

I don’t hear a witty response come from him. Haha, gotcha!

The temperature literally plummets as we approach the garage, and the first thing that stands out is a gray Jeep parked underneath one of the lights. It’s shining the brightest it can that it almost blinds me.

The door unlocks and we both get into our respective seats. I listen to the engine turn over and voices of a late-night radio show make their presence known over the display screen. I find it oddly soothing.

With our luck, the garage doors haven’t closed yet, so we’re able to leave easily and grace the streets of Manhattan with our presence. Even though it’s after 10:30pm. Even though I’d rather be falling asleep.

Next to him.

As he’s touching my face. As he’s running his hand through my hair.

As I get to see his smile appear on his face, so soft and reserved, like it’s just for me.

As we talk for as long as both our minds can function before we pass out.

And I can wake up the next morning to remember he’s still sleeping next to me, quiet as a mouse, feet outstretched over the end of the mattress.

As I watch him sleep until he wakes on his own.

Then he finally wakes, presses a sleepy kiss to my head, and we both agree to have breakfast.

And we’ll chat some more and eat before he leaves to go back to his apartment.

But now, I can’t do that.

I mean, I could. 

But as it’s already been known, that relationship is irreplicable.

For right now, I’ve found comfort in that.

I walk through the apartment door and the first thing I do is take off my heels and painfully walk across the floor into my room, flinging them into my closet and taking a random T-shirt off a hanger and a random pair of sweats from the drawer. Walking on my tippy toes at this point, given the status of the heels of my feet and its red, sore, already breaking out into blister areas, there’s not much I can do to relieve the pain I’m feeling, both physically and emotionally.

I’ve stepped one foot onto the bathroom floor before realizing I forgot underwear. Shit.

I turn around and somewhat lose my balance, the peeled skin on my heel making contact with the wall, as I yelp out in agonizing pain, tears probably about to brim my eyes.

The sound of footsteps emerges out from the room next door. Jimmy’s already changed into his pajamas. His hair is pretty much setting the standard for bedtime too. He looks down at my foot and then back at me. “You’re bleeding.”

I just stand there.

He reaches past me to turn on the bathroom light, pointing to the toilet seat. “Go sit,” he says.

I oblige on his behalf because I really don’t think it’s necessary to piss him off right now. I hobble into the bathroom, sitting down and lifting up my foot.

The cabinet underneath the sink opens and he reaches in, pulling out a washcloth and bending back up to turn on the water, running it cold until it’s at least halfway damp. The faucet handle turns off and he crouches down again, taking my foot in his hands, like he’s trying to fit Sleeping Beauty’s missing glass slipper on me, given with how gentle he’s being, dabbing the blood off my heel and any excess that might’ve trickled down the rest of it.

I grip my hands on the toilet seat. Not too tightly, but not too light, either. I can feel my knuckles protrude out of my hands.

“You okay?” He looks up at me, the light providing such a nice, comforting shade to his eyes.

I shake my head. “This shit just never fucking ends. I’ve busted up both feet now.”

Jimmy scoffs. “You can still put them to good use.” He drops the washcloth on the floor and goes back into the cabinet, emerging with witch hazel and a cotton ball. He shakes the bottle and lets a couple drops fall onto the cotton ball, pressing it to my foot, and I can feel the right side of my body flinch as it reacts to the stinging sensation.

“You’re okay,” he says quietly, reapplying the cotton ball with more witch hazel to tend to the other blisters on that foot before moving to the other one. “Just take a breath for a minute.”

I breathe in through my nose, but I don’t let it escape my mouth. I don’t want him to see that side of me right now. I’ve already had too much weakness escape my body at this point.

The stinging continues to shine on both my feet. “It really hurts.” I can’t help but have that developing lump in my throat transform into a voice crack.

“I know, I know.” He reapplies more witch hazel. “Doing so good, yeah? Almost done here.”

I groan. “You’re taking forever.”

He laughs. “You really want these things to become blood blisters? You’ll be in immeasurable pain that you won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

“It’s already past 11,” I tell him. “I’m not getting any damn sleep.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we’re off tomorrow,” he says. “I’ll remind myself to let you sleep in.”

I can feel a grimace slide across my face. “Good. You don’t wanna be around a cranky Abby.”

He visibly retaliates. “Oh, trust me, I’ve already dealt with her. She’s not that nice.”

That causes me to crack a smile. “Yeah, I don’t think I’d wanna meet her.”

The witch hazel makes its way back into the cabinet and out comes the bottle of aloe vera. “Everything else about her is great, though.”

I smile again, then look down at the aloe vera, and then back to him. I give him a dumbfounded look. “Really?”

“You’re gonna be uncomfortable all night if you don’t get some relief. Come on. Bare with me here. The hard part’s over.”

What’s the hard part in this scenario?

The same routine is executed, only this time, I feel more relieved as the cool gel travels over my blisters that I’m almost convinced I can sink deeper into how I’m sitting. It feels so nice, so relaxing. 

I can feel him staring at me. “Better?” he says, with a little bit of hesitancy in his voice.

I nod. “Yeah.” I take a pause. “Thank you.”

He puts away the aloe vera and shuts the cabinet door. “No need.” 

As he stands up and leaves me alone in the bathroom, I feel like I have to call out for him to get his attention.

Only for him to come back with my pajamas that I forgot were sitting on my bed. He stands in the doorway, only crossing over a few inches. I reach out my hand so I can take ownership of them. I look up. “I forgot underwear.”

He laughs, stepping back out and I hear the sounds of him rummaging through my drawers, once again coming back with a pink pair of undies, hanging them in front of my eyes, moving it like a pendulum.

I rip it out of his hands, throwing it underneath my sweatpants. “Bet that’s the first time you ever did that, huh?” 

He shrugs with that sarcastic body posture of his. “Just wanted to see how it felt.”

I stand up from the toilet seat and walk the short distance to the tub, turning on the water, waiting for it to warm up. “Get out of here.”

He puts his hands up in self-defense, slowly backing up and out of the bathroom. “Let’s not have you fall in there. Now that would be an embarrassing ER trip.”

I sigh, rolling my eyes. “Don’t put it out there. He could be listening.”

With his large hand leaning on the doorframe, he leans in while his body is fully out in the hallway. “He always is.” I’m met with yet another wink from him, and off he goes into his room, shutting the door.

The water starts spewing out of the shower head and I quickly undress so I can get this done quickly, given how it’s almost midnight, and to save myself the pain that my feet will be experiencing. God, they’ve really taken a brunt recently.

Turns out when you take a lukewarm shower, it doesn’t really hurt too much. I rush through my routine because if I’m being honest, I just want to go to bed. I just want to sleep. I just want to escape through the use of my own head.

And it can’t happen any quicker if I take forever. I turn off the water and carefully step out so that I don’t trip. Reaching for my towel on the sink,  I dry off and change into my pajamas, moisturize, reapply aloe, brush my hair, and clean off my glasses before turning off the bathroom light and opening the door, standing in the middle of the doorway. It’s completely dark, the only light illuminating from the streetlights outside. I turn my head to the right. His door is closed and the lights are off. 

I’m not mad. I didn’t expect him to wait up anyway. As a matter of fact, I don’t really expect much from him at all.

I walk blindly into my room. Luckily, it’s easier to see since I forgot to close my curtains and I’m guided by another streetlight. I toss my towel into my laundry basket, along with my outfit, and across the room to pull my curtains toward each other, submerging myself in all black. I always had a tiny nightlight in my room. Ever since I’ve been staying here, I’ve adjusted without one. I think it’s ironic. I gotta grow up.

I brought a bag of cotton balls and the bottle of aloe vera with me so that God forbid I have to reapply throughout the night, I don’t have to make several trips. I place them on my nightstand and it knocks over my picture frame onto the floor. I pick it up and turn it around.

I feel like I just got hit by a truck again.

It’s still our picture of us at the football game. 

I thought I put that away. I thought I buried it with all his things.

God. Have I really been oblivious this entire time?

How the hell could I have forgotten it was there?

I guess you could say I’m moving on a lot quicker than I thought I was.

I’m not sure if he’d be too thrilled about that.

Me? 

Well. Let’s just say it’s necessary.

Instead of going over to my closet and putting the picture in his box, and instead of putting it in the accompanying nightstand drawers, I let it spin on the floor underneath my bed.

Eventually, it’s going to collect dust.

Primarily, that’s the entire purpose.

--------

I’ve smudged my lipstick for the third time now. Being confined to the bathroom is not really fun anymore. I want to go all out. After all, it is the scariest day of the year.

Halloween.

Like Jimmy, I’ve never been a huge fan of the holiday. I guess my dislike started several years ago. I don’t know. I just find it a little boring. I can’t go trick-or-treating anymore, so for the past two years, and what’s about to be the third, I resort to the second option.

Parties.

And again, I’m not even a fan of parties. They’re overstimulating, too crowded, difficult to maintain a conversation when a bunch of other people keep infiltrating in it, too much alcohol (in this case, it’d have to be consumed in moderation), and I would always feel bad for Ryan because I would, 75% of the time, cling to him all night. He didn’t mind it. He swore he didn’t. Unfortunately, I got one year out of that.

I’ve already found who I’ll be clinging to this year.

I’m startled by a knock at the door. “You okay in there?” 

“Yep!” I say over the other side. “I’m almost done.”

“Hope so,” Jimmy nags. “Laf’s gonna be here in 20 minutes. You know how he doesn’t really like waiting around.”

“Then I’ll blame him if I end up ripping my costume if I’m being rushed,” I answer back.

“It just occurred to me that I have no idea what your costume is,” he says. “You never even told me when you came back from Spirit Halloween.”

“I think that was the whole point,” I say, moving to applying my foundation. “The element of surprise.”

“Is it gonna cause me to have a stroke?”

I laugh. “Nah. It’s not that great anyway. Kinda a last resort thing.”

“I see.” I hear his footsteps depart from the door, but he’s still talking. “I’ve already got mine.”

I furrow my eyebrows in the mirror. “And what are you dressed up as?”

“The element of surprise,” he mocks back. 

I ignore that retort and concentrate on getting my makeup done and to the best extent I possibly can. The hair is already done, courtesy of the curling iron. The costume is already on. I’m not wearing it to impress anyone. That is not the goal this year. I would’ve loved to get Ryan’s reaction out of it. He probably wouldn’t be able to function, stealing those glances all night, and wanting to act on it once the party ended. 

I don’t think we’d be able to escape the car unscathed from that aftermath.

Staring at myself in the mirror, I decide my effort is at its best and I put all my makeup back in my container and put it in the cabinet underneath the sink. I look at the costume from every angle. On the one hand, it does not feel like me. But on the other hand, it feels like an entirely new version of me.

I think I’m willing to embrace it now. 

And so I begin that by opening the door and turning the light off, hearing the sounds of my boots clobber across the floor and stopping near the couch. I look over, but I don’t find Jimmy there.

Instead, I find him sitting on the miniature couch by the fireplace in the corner. It’s not turned on, so I just analyze his crooked yet relaxed posture before I see his head whip around and look at me straight in the eyes. That ‘deer in the headlights’ look is easily reflected. He finally sputters out a sentence. “That is not a last resort costume,” he says, almost along the lines of disbelief.

Giving him a smug smile back, I walk over to the kitchen counter. “Surprise.”

I’m a witch. Yes, that sounds incredibly unoriginal, incredibly boring. The costume get-up, however, is not.

A set of fishnet tights, thigh-high black boots, long-sleeve black coquette mini dress, and a black wool knit witch hat. Of course, I can’t forget my broom. That, however, is not black. I decided to put some life into my costume, so it’s purple. I finally nailed the makeup look. It’s not totally heavy, but recognizable enough.

I’ve still got the man gawked. I look over at his costume. I laugh once again. “What are you supposed to be?” 

He’s able to speak again, gesturing toward his costume. “I’m Harry Potter.”

And I laugh even harder once he admits it. “That is - that is too good.” I cover my face with my hands. “It’s so you. Like, combination of literal nerd and movie nerd. I love it.”

I can’t tell if he’s taking whatever I’m saying seriously. He’s currently hard to read. “I’m so glad you do,” he says, standing up and walking over to the counter. He retrieves a pair of round, brown glasses and puts them on.

Now it’s my turn to gawk again. I have never seen the man wear glasses. I won’t verbally admit it, but he does not look bad in them. Not in the slightest. I wouldn’t mind if he kept them around. “Okay, now you’re just cosplaying as a nerd,” I say while turning around, heading back to my room to grab my broom, phone, and purse.

“Is that what it is?” I hear Jimmy shout.

I emerge back into the kitchen. “That’s exactly how it’s always been.”

I receive an eye roll in return, a sarcastic one, and I linger back by the counter, hoping we can leave sooner rather than later. I feel we’ve just unlocked a new level of awkwardness. 

“You think you would’ve done a matching couples costume this year?” he asks. He takes off the glasses.

“Maybe,” I tell him honestly. “Would’ve been a lot more fun.”

“Hey, we could’ve matched.”

I lower my stare at him. “No. That’s just weird.”

He seems a little let down by that statement, but it’s true. I don’t want to go out in a public setting somewhat having similar costumes and then everyone else around us starts to speculate. Not only would we be uncomfortable, but it would come with nonstop talk. I don’t want that for me, or him.

“Sorry. It’s just-”

“I know,” he replies. “You don’t gotta explain.”

I’m not sure whether to give him a tiny smile, but I force myself not to, and once I hear Jimmy’s phone alert us with a notification, me going under the assumption that Alexis’s waiting outside, I bolt out the door and leave him there alone. I’m looking to prevent an argument that we don’t need.

I make my way in the elevator, go down the 4 floors, and walk quickly out of the apartment entrance area and out into the parking lot, where I notice a large black Cadillac and hear an elongated honk, scaring the crap out of me as I walk toward it. 

I put my hand on the passenger door handle and open it, hoping I claim full ownership of the shotgun position. But when I fully swing the door open, there’s someone already sitting there.

It’s Will. He flashes me a surprised look. “Hey, Abb!” he says with a surprisingly large amount of enthusiasm. For all I know, he could be buzzed. “Love the costume.”

I keep my hand gripped on the door handle. “Thanks. I, uh, I didn’t know Laf was, uh, driving you.” That’s my cue to look over at Alexis in the drivers seat.

“Yeah, it was a last minute thing,” Alexis says. “Figured I got room anyway, so why not? That’s okay with you, right?”

I nod. “Yeah. yeah, that’s okay.” I take a pause. “What are you guys supposed to be?”

“I’m an axe thrower,” Will says. “My axe, well, I should say, my fake axe, is in the trunk.”

I think that’s a great fit for him. Not trying to stir the pot or anything, but he does have nice arms.

“I’m Mario,” Alexis deadpans, and I laugh for what feels like the third time in the last 15 minutes.

“That is honestly such a great idea,” I say. “It suits you. I can actually see the vision.”

“Yeah, don’t worry, I’m gonna win best costume of the night,” he responds. “Although you might be a close contender for second place.”

I nod. “Second is the best, so…” I trail off.

“Anyway, you can hop on in,” Alexis tells me. “Where the hell is Funny?” That’s his nickname for Jimmy.

“He’s coming,” I say as I shut Will’s door and open the one that leads into the back. I take the seat behind him and shut it, putting down my broom and resting my phone and purse in my lap. For whatever reason, I start to feel the tiniest bit anxious. I’m not sure if I’m able to explain it. I think it’s because this is the first major holiday I don’t get to celebrate with him. Thanksgiving next month is probably going to be even worse.

If I can go all night without thinking of him (well, actually, most of the night), I’ll be able to say that I had fun.

The three of us see Jimmy making his way toward the car, motioning over to my side and opening up the door to see me already sitting there. “Oops,” I tell him sarcastically.

His ‘deer in the headlights’ look has regained full control on his face, and so without saying anything, he shuts it and walks over to the other side, opening up the left door. He steps in and shuts it closed. “What’s up, Laf?” 

“And me,” Will chimes in from the passenger seat.

A perplexed look becomes evident on Jimmy’s face. “Oh, hey. I didn’t even know you were in here. My bad.”

“All good,” he says casually. “Let’s go have some fun.”

Alexis shifts the car into drive and we leave the parking lot and out onto the street, where it’s already busier than usual. Nothing beats holiday traffic in New York City, I’ll tell you that much.

We engage in casual conversation while driving to the bar. Actually, it’s more of the men in the car than myself. I can feel the twinge of sadness starting to kick in. I have to keep reminding myself: Do not let this ruin your night.

Mustang Harry’s is having a Halloween party. Dinner, dancing, a costume contest, music, the whole thing. It’s been one of our go-to spots for awhile now. It never disappoints. Tonight should be no different.

As we make our way there, barely moving steadily in the traffic congestion, Alexis pipes up from the drivers seat. “Obviously, I’ll be the DD tonight, so if you guys wanna go ahead and drink, you can. Just don’t get too drunk to the point where you’re gonna vomit everywhere, technically in here, because, well, that’s obviously no fun. But yeah, I ain’t stopping ya.”

My entire body tenses. I’m not sure if Jimmy can sense it since he’s sitting right next to me, but I might just jump out of the car right now. That’s if I had any willpower.

“I don’t drink anyway, so it doesn’t apply to me.” It comes off a little harsh.

It’s quiet for a few seconds before Alexis responds. “Fuck, Abb, I’m sorry. It was - It was just a general statement. Just throwing it out there.”

“I know,” I huff. Then I sigh loudly, more embarrassed than pissed off at myself. “It’s fine. I’m sorry for copping an attitude.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Will interjects. “We’re not gonna hold it against you.”

“I’m so glad,” I say sarcastically. “Better that no lives end tonight out of all nights.”

And now I’ve initiated the silence for the rest of the drive, but luckily, it’s not too long of suffering as we’re able to find a spot on the street and park a couple blocks down, getting out of the car and walking together into the bar. Well, restaurant/bar, if you’d like to be precise.

It’s a little after 6, so it’s not incredibly packed yet, so I guess you could say we beat the rush. The four of us stay together as we head toward the back in search of our table. We notice that nobody else has arrived yet, so we make ourselves comfortable in our booths, me and Will on one side and Alexis and Jimmy on the other. I don’t know what is going on with Jimmy’s face, but he does not look happy to be here.

Or is it because he’s not happy that a certain someone is?

I try to distract myself through the menu. “Are we waiting for everyone else to get here to order?” I ask.

“I’m not waiting,” Alexis says, opening the menu flaps, scanning it with his eyes from top to bottom. “They’ll catch up. They’re not missing out if they’re late, anyway.”

I nod, thankful I was able to receive that answer back because I am starving. I’m unsure of what to order. There are so many good options. They even have a personalized menu for Halloween, so it’s only fitting if I stick to that. The ambience of this place is incredible, like I’ve transported to another world.

Our server comes by and takes our drinks and appetizers order. We plan on starting out light so we’re not already halfway through our meal once they get here. Besides, it gives us extra time to talk before we’ve got 20 other conversations going on at the same time and I can’t even fixate on one.

I take a sip of my water before attempting to begin said conversation. “How’s Vinny treating you, Will?” I turn to look at him. “I’m surprised he hasn’t sent you on your way yet.”

He laughs. “No, he’s definitely gonna be doing it at some point. The hospitality is great, though. Seriously. They treat me well, I’ve got my own room, feels like I’ve been accepted into their family, kinda like a big brother. Something to that effect.”

“You looking around the area?” I continue. “What’s your ideal situation, like an apartment, condo? Gonna go bold and buy an entire house?”

“He’s probably gonna buy the place in the busiest part of Tribeca,” Alexis jokes. “He’s the one to love all the noise.”

Another laugh escapes from Will’s mouth. “Yeah, I’m not really sure yet. I mean, an apartment would be ideal, but rent is outrageous nowadays. And a condo would be where I just buy it immediately and it’s mine forever, but then you have those HOA fees-”

“Tell me about it,” I interject. “They’re ridiculous, but it covers heat, air conditioning, uh, cable, electricity, and when you can’t even make it out the front door once you’ve been buried in a billion feet of snow, they come and shovel it for you. Same thing goes with raking leaves. And if something breaks, or stops working suddenly, they come and fix it. Of course, you’d have to pay for it, but you don’t have to go out of your way to call someone outside of the area. It’s honestly pretty convenient.”

“You got a condo?” Will asks.

“I do. It’s great. I love it.”

“If you loved it, you’d be living in it,” Jimmy finally speaks, his lips engulfing the rim of his beer. 

So, looks like it’s gonna be one of those nights.

Why does he do this? Why does he HAVE to do this? Why does he have to ruin EVERYTHING?

“Oh, that’s right,” Will says, pointing to me and then Jimmy. “You guys are living together.”

“Yup,” I muster.

“How’s it goin with that?” Damn. He sure loves to ask questions.

I open my mouth. “It’s fine-”

“I got an upcharge in my rent to pay for an extra room, but other than that, we’re tolerating it.” 

All I can do is give him a quick little death glare. Tolerating it? 

That’s one way to say you hate this arrangement. Good to know.

I return to spinning my straw in my water cup, reminding myself that he might be the tiniest bit affected by the alcohol right now. Not that it’s a huge deal if he drinks 1 beer, but if it becomes, let’s say, ten, his judgment is already impaired beyond belief.

Do not, my mind tells me, Do not let him prevent you from having fun tonight. 

“My apartment’s great,” Alexis jumps in, saving me from going to strangle Jimmy across the table. “I mean, it’s only me, but I love the complex.”

“Have you talked to your neighbor?” Jimmy vocalizes. “You know, the one that took Ryan’s apartment?” He shoots me a look.

“I have,” Alexis says, a little haltingly, looking over in my direction as well. “He’s a good dude. Quiet, responsible, we talk every so often whenever I’m there for longer than 2 days at this point.”

“Should’ve invited him here,” says Jimmy. “I’d like to know how he’s revamped the place.”

My heart stings.

“Yeah, I actually haven’t been inside it ever since he moved in, so I can’t really vouch for that,” Alexis responds. “But what I can tell you is that he does have a girlfriend, so he probably couldn’t have done that much.”

“You ever hear them fuckin around?” Okay, seriously, what the fuck is wrong with him? He points to me. “You ever heard them fuckin around when she’d be over?” 

Alexis’ face, which is already red to begin with, invents a whole new shade of crimson. I can guarantee it’s because he’s embarrassed for me. “Uh, no, not really, to answer both questions. Most of the time, the three of us would hang out together, so…”

“Oh, yeah, I completely forgot about that.” Jimmy taps his fingers on the empty bottle. “Just wanted to rub it in, for what I can infer.” He stops a waiter walking past our table. “Could I get another beer, please?” 

“Absolutely,” the waiter responds joyfully, walking away.

“I heard the places in Flatbush are nice,” Will speaks, coming in to save the day. Thank goodness. “Maybe I’ll look for something around there.”

“Good,” Jimmy says. “Don’t forget to take her with you.”

I furrow my eyebrows. “Why would I move somewhere when I’ve already got my own place?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe so he can accompany you the next time you have to visit the ER.”

I stare in disbelief. I’ve never seen this side of him, consumed with beer, unable to articulate a rational thought.

By the grace of God, our appetizers make our way to the table, and we each order our entrees. I’m fortunate enough to occupy my mouth with chicken wings so I don’t have to react the way I want to.

And as if I couldn’t be any more grateful, a second group of the team shows up, making their way over to where we’re sitting. “What’s up, guys!” I hear Adam say, giving everyone at the table a quick fistbump.

I turn my head to look up and see Tate, to which I automatically break into a smile and stand up, giving her the tightest hug I possibly can. “It is so good to see you!” I exclaim with glee. “I love your costume!”

“Thanks!” Tate responds, pulling back from the hug. “Yours looks amazing!”

“I’m so glad you think so,” I say, batting my eyes back at Jimmy.

She takes the end seat at the table next to us so that we’re still able to talk, and Adam sits across from her. The rest of the squad chooses where they’d like to sit. Braden and his fiancė, Key and his girlfriend, Fil and his girlfriend, Chris, Mika, and Kaapo are the second and final arrival of the night. Everyone else decided to stay home and spend Halloween with their families, perhaps taking their kids out trick-or-treating.

“I thought you guys were gonna wait!” Adam says with joking accusation. He looks over at Alexis. “You liar!”

Alexis shrugs. “Should’ve gotten here at the time we told you, then.”

“God, traffic was insane,” Braden pipes up. “I’m sure it’ll be a lot better once we leave.”

“No one has a curfew, right?” says Jimmy.

Everyone bursts out into laughter, accepting that question as a joke. “Fuck on outta here, man,” Mika replies. 

Jimmy puts up his hands in self-defense. “I’m just sayin, Abby’s got a bedtime of 11, so we gotta make it speedy so that I don’t have to deal with her crankiness tomorrow.”

A few joking laughs sputter around here and there. None of them come from me.

------

A little over an hour later, everyone’s indulging in their meals, happy and content. Conversation bounces from table to table, but given with how loud it’s gotten, we stick to the people we can speak to without having to shout across. 

It is so difficult to even carry on a dialogue when Jimmy just finds any single way he can to interrupt it. He doesn’t even have a good reason. He’s sticking out like a thorn in my side. I’m this close to pulling it out and throwing it straight at his eye.

So I don’t give him the attention that he wants. He’s had 3 whole bottles of beer, but he’s starting to settle down and reach for the water instead. I guess he wants to be in a somewhat conscious state of mind for when I decide if I’m going to rip him a new one by the time we get home, whenever that will be.

I just focus on maintaining conversation with Alexis and Will. I can tell they’ve caught up on what Jimmy’s trying to do, but I guess for my sake, they won’t feed into it. They’ll just know it’ll piss me off. I mean, it already has. The trick is to let him keep doing what he wants without posing a reaction. I’d rather not see him win by giving credit to the glass Heineken bottles in front of him.

To burn off the food, we travel to the floor of the bar to prepare for dancing. It’ll be more of Halloween songs, obviously, but it’s not helping with how many couples costumes I’ve already seen. Just tune it out, Abby. Just tune it out.

One of the most iconic Halloween songs, “Monster Mash” by Bobby Pickett, emerges from the speakers, and it sends the crowd into a frenzy, everyone coming together to sing the lyrics and dance out of their minds.

Meanwhile, I hang out in the middle, just swaying from side to side, unsure of really how to dance in a crowd without looking like a total idiot. The rest of the team is behind me, Will on my right and Alexis on my left. I’m sure Jimmy’s vomiting in the bathroom stall.

“How am I supposed to dance?” I yell over to Alexis.

“What do you mean?” He shouts back.

“Like, what am I supposed to do?”

“Just let go!” He starts drifting further into the already cramped crowd. “Not too much, though!”

I roll my eyes, and before I can give him a sarcastic reaction back, he’s already gone. I turn to Will. “Havin fun?” I’m not even sure if he heard me.

“Totally!” He spits in my face, and I’m not even sure if he’s aware of it, but I shrug it off. “When they gonna play the good shit, though?”

I scoff. “They have been playing the good shit. You must have really terrible taste.”

His face breaks out into a complete smile. “My music taste is superior.”

“Is it?” I joke back. “You wouldn’t even move a muscle to ‘Thriller.’”

“Because it’s already overplayed as is,” he argues. “Everyone already knows it’s a classic.”

“That’s why you still dance to it!” It’s my turn to break into a smile. “Do you secretly hate Halloween or something?”

“Oh, I love Halloween,” he contradicts. “Favorite holiday of the year.”

I shake my head. “Wrong. Christmas.”

“No, you’re wrong,” he yells back. 

“We’re both wrong!” I admit happily. “There’s the silver lining!”

He playfully rolls his eyes, looking up past the crowd. “Somebody’s Watching Me” by Rockwell appears across the bar, and again, more positive reactions ring throughout. The floor starts to loosen up a bit. If I’m not mistaken, for whatever reason, this is apparently going to be the song all the couples will find a way to dance to. 

Well. At least I got this far.

“I guess you’re gonna be my partner,” Will says, snapping me out of my daze. “Unless you wanna sit out and wait for the next one.”

I shake my head. “Nope.” I grab him by the wrist. “We’re dancing.”

We look for some open space and start acting as stupid as we possibly can. The irony of the song is that someone’s supposed to be watching us, but actually, I think it’s quite the opposite.

He is so uncoordinated that it’s actually hilarious. I danced for 8 years and yet I forget how to do the basic spins. We go back and forth, not worrying that anyone is looking us. Since it’s Halloween, and the entire point of the day is to be dressed as someone you’re not, no one will consciously choose to remember what you said, what you did, or however terribly you danced.

It is, I’ll say, quite a freeing escape.

We’re still dancing by the time the song ends and another one comes on. It’s perhaps an old one because I’ve never heard it from what I can recall, but we don’t let it choose to affect us. It’s unfortunate that we start to lose our open space because the rest of the crowd starts to infiltrate back in. The air becomes a little stuffy, but nothing I can’t handle.

It also helps that the music is no longer blaring and blowing my eardrums and has become just the tiniest bit quieter; not by much, but to the point where I can actually hear people talk. I come in close contact with a few strangers, bouncing around and going a little crazy across the floor, making their way down to the furthest point they can. At this rate, you feel like you’re stuck in a mosh pit at a concert. Those things can really bring negative consequences if not addressed right away. Again, how ironic that they preach concertgoer safety and people could still end up hurt.

I’m taken aback by how close Will’s voice is in contact with my ear. “Can I guide you back a little bit?” He asks. “I feel like we’re gonna get trampled.”

I nod, semi-shouting over the speaker. “If you can find any piece of space, then yeah, do it.”

I wasn’t expecting him to grab me roughly by the hips and literally drag me back from where I was standing, so I exhale a hitched breath and turn around, determining if I should confront him, only to realize he wasn’t the one who dragged me.

You’re fucking joking.

“The fuck are you doing?” Jimmy yells over the speaker.

“Having fun!” I yell back in his face. “That’s what you wanted from me, right?”

“Yeah, he’s not fucking touching you, though,” he shouts, gesturing over to Will. I shoot him a confused look. He made it down further into the crowd with everyone else. He has no choice but to shoot me one back.

“Says who?” I retort.

Jimmy’s face changes between the red and orange LEDS. “You’re not dancing with him.”

“Oh, what the fuck do you know?” I try to push past him, but he’s still got his hands tightly squeezing my hips. “Let go of me.”

“Not if you’re going his way,” he says in a pissy tone. “Stay over here.”

“So that you’re not alone? Go mingle. Go bring home a pathetic woman to deflect your drunken state on.”

“That pathetic woman’s you,” he clarifies. “Would be a shame you’d move on so soon, huh?”

“Fuck off.” I attempt to get past him again.

He squeezes my hips so tight that I let out a painful cry. I try to free his hands, but they’re a lot larger and stronger than mine. “Stop telling me that.”

“Stop holding me hostage!” I yell. I’m surprised no one else can see this is going on.

I’m turned around and now pressed up along him, his arm draping over me. Not to mention, I can feel something else of his draping along my ass.

“You want me to fucking piss all over you, then?” I say, his head already dropped to the side of my ear.

“That wouldn’t be appropriate of you, would it?” The Heiniken bounces off his mouth. Yeah, he’s definitely had more since we left the table.

I turn and grab him by the ear, pinching it as hard as I possibly can and bringing his head down to my level. “Actually, yeah. It would be.”

That’s what causes to him to retract his hands from my waist, and with that, before he can even catch me, I sprint, quite literally channeling my inner Usain Bolt and heading to the bathroom, hoping I don’t throw up or even jump out the window, that’s if there is one.

I make it there unscathed and rush in, shutting the door and looking at the empty stalls. I could lock myself in one, but that means it’ll be forever before I choose to leave, so I pick the alternative and walk over to the sink and grip my hands on the side of it, looking down at the faucet, taking slow, deep breaths, trying to ground myself and hopefully not hit my head and pass out. When I have enough leverage, I turn on the sink and take off my glasses, rinsing my face in cold water several times before I dry it off, finally gathering courage to look at myself in the mirror.

My blush is all blotched, my mascara is droopy, my eyes look like they’re going to burst out of their sockets.

I take a few more breaths before I reach into my purse and see that Alexis tried to call me. I redial his number, hoping he’ll pick up, which he does. “Hey, you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m in the bathroom,” I choke out. “Why?”

“We’re uh,” he says over the loud crowd and music, “we’re gonna head out. Jim’s obviously a little buzzed.”

“A little? I think quite a lot,” I reply back.

“Want me to come get you?”

“No, I’ll find my way out,” I tell him. “Make sure he sits in the front, though. I do not want him puking all over me.”

“Will do. See you in a bit.”

I hang up and take one last look in the mirror, recollecting myself with a deep inhale and exhale before swinging the bathroom door open and maneuvering through the crowd, headed straight for the exit in hopes I don’t get pulled back by a random stranger.

By the time I get out and onto the sidewalk, relishing in the fresh air, the car’s already running, and I walk around into the street to get in on the driver’s side. I step on in and sit down, shutting the door and putting my seatbelt on, letting out a loud sigh. It’s a combination of frustration and relief.

Will’s next to me, with Jimmy in the front seat and Alexis obviously still driving. Jimmy’s got a water bottle in his hand, taking slow, cautious sips. “You’re gonna have to drink more than that,” I bark at him.

“Damn. You really do act like a fucking witch,” he slurs, only a little, before putting the cap back on. He rolls down the window and sticks his head out. Please tell me he’s not actually gonna vomit.

“I’m gonna drop you two off first,” Alexis says as he backs up and carefully pulls out into the street.

“Actually, you can just do me,” I say. “I don’t wanna deal with the aftermath of a hangover.”

“That’s a nice way of saying you love me,” Jimmy unnecessarily pipes up. “Reallllll nice.”

I roll my eyes and look out my window, concentrating on the music buzzing out of the radio.

“Remind him to not host Thanksgiving this year,” I say.

“Remind her that she won’t be on my list of things I’m thankful for,” Jimmy snaps back.

“Alright, Jim, cut it out,” Alexis says. “Drink your water, will ya?”

An unhappy gruff escapes his mouth, removing the cap and tilting his head back to drink.

My entire body jumps when Will lightly taps me on the arm. “You gonna be okay with him?” He whispers.

I nod. “I’ve been okay with him for 7 months. It won’t make a difference.”

“Unless you just wanna get dropped off with me, stay the night at Tro’s,” he suggests.

“Then who’s gonna look after him?”

He looks around like a lost puppy. “Laf can.”

I scoff. “Yeah, I’m not putting that burden on him. Thanks, though.”

“Yeah, you bet. Same goes for whenever you might need a break from him.”

“Oh, I need more than a break,” I hint.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asks. “Is that why he was all pissy?”

I give him an apologetic look. “Honestly, I can’t tell you. That’d be something you’d have to work out with him. Of course, when he’s in a better state of mind.”

“I can tell he’s very protective over you.”

I look over at the drunk man in the front passenger seat. “He doesn’t need to be.”

It’s a quiet ride back to the apartment. Alexis pulls up the closest he can to the entrance so we don’t have to walk too far. And by ‘we,’ I mean Jimmy not falling and stumbling over his two feet. Surprisingly, his ability to walk isn’t crazily hindered. It’s more of a shuffling and stopping every few steps, which causes me to stop too and keep him moving forward.

“You want us to come in with you?” Will yells from the car.

I turn around, grabbing hold of Jimmy’s wrist so he doesn’t run off. “No, we’ll be fine. See you guys tomorrow.”

“We’re just gonna wait till you get in,” Will calls out.

I flash him a thumbs-up without actually looking back and slowly yet surely make my way back to the apartment entrance. He’s picked up the pace, but still shuffling like an old man. It’s catastrophic how much beer caused an uptick in mood, and a downtick in actual fun being had. 

It’s almost as if it was his plan, so to speak.

I open the door and we walk into the entryway, hearing the car drive off. At this point, it just leaves me.

At the pace of a snail, we’re in the elevator, leaning back against the handrail, staring up at the fluorescent lights. I’m starting to get a headache, and it’s not because of him.

“Look,” Jimmy says lazily, gesturing to the water bottle. “I’m drinking it, Abb.”

I can’t even be given the strength to look at him. “Good for you,” I say nonchalantly.

“This shit is so good,” he states. “Have you ever had this before?”

“I have. It’s my favorite.”

The elevator doors open and I push myself off the handrail and walk out into the hallway, waiting for him to get himself out. “Do I gotta finish it?” He steps out onto the carpeted floor.

“We have practice tomorrow,” I remind him, walking ahead and up to the door. I insert the key in the lock and push the door to the apartment wide open, turning on the lights. “Unless you want the effects to linger for an extra day.”

He shuffles in behind me, shutting the door and remembering to lift the latch across. “Nah.” I hear him kick off his shoes, listening to them being scraped on the wood. “That would not be good.”

I still don’t turn to look back at him and strut toward my room, shutting the door and quickly removing my costume and changing into something more comfortable. I can’t stand to continue this façade.

I open the door and walk into the living room to see Jimmy leaning against the wall near the couch, holding the bottle by the cap. He sends me an uncertain facial expression. “What’s gotten into you, Abb?”

Smiling back, I take a deep breath. “You.”

“You what?”

“You’ve gotten into me.”

“I don’t think that means anything.”

I spread my fingers apart and bring them back to clench into fists. “So your goal wasn’t to sabotage me tonight? Your goal wasn’t to get semi-drunk and somewhat grind up against me?”

He sputters out a laugh. “The fuck are you talking about? I’m just trying to steer your direction.”

“Oh, yeah, Jim?” I wave my hands up. “Where do you not want me to go?”

“Will.” It comes out in such a gravel that I can’t help but think it’s true.

I laugh. “He’s my friend.”

“Didn’t look like that tonight.” He takes off his scarf that was apart of his costume, along with the black cloak. He’s now left in a black button-down and pants. It looks like I’m actually talking to him this time.

“Tryin to fuckin get in his pants from what I could see.”

The back of my eyes start to burn.

Abby, he’s drunk. He doesn’t mean any of this.

Then again, what’s the phrase? Drunk words are sober thoughts? 

I’m not sure what to believe.

“You have no right to even suspect that,” I point a finger at his face. “You are not in charge of who I can and cannot talk to.”

“Sure I am,” he shrugs. “I’m paying for everything, remember?”

I shoot my eyes up at the ceiling. “God, why does that have to play a factor?”

“Because it’s true. It’s my place. I make the decisions.”

“News flash!” I tell him, waving my hands in front of my face. “I’m an adult! I can advocate for myself, I can take care of myself, and I don’t need a bodyguard who chooses to decide when his little princess is being threatened.”

“He’s no good for you,” Jimmy spits out, pushing himself off the wall. 

“And how do you know that?”

“Because I’m sure he would’ve ripped off your tights before we even got back to the car.”

A large, wide smile, full of rage, temporarily replaces my frown. “You are-”

“Right?”

“Full of shit,” I correct him. “And drunk.”

“I’m not drunk,” he argues, taking a long sip of water to where you can hear the plastic crinkle. Tilting his head back up, he says “Starting to feel better.”

I scoff. “Yeah, we’ll see.”

“Still fun though.”

I let out a sigh. “Yeah. I’m sure you had fun belittling me the entire time.”

“When did I belittle you?”

I tap my foot on the floor to show my impatience. “Let’s see. You basically admitted you don’t like that I’m living here, you’re trying to kick me out by having me go move in with Will whenever he’s around to looking for his new place, telling everyone you don’t want to deal with my bitchiness tomorrow morning because I’ll be out for too long, accusing me of moving on, calling me pathetic…” I take a breath. “And that’s not just from tonight. I can go back from March if you need me to.”

“You had to admit I was right about the moving on thing.” He unbuttons the cuffs on his shirt and the top button.

“Yeah?” I ask dubiously. “How so?”

“Because only a slut looking for a rebound would wear a provocative costume like that.”

There’s another example of belittlement to add to the list.

That one’s for sure not leaving my head. That’ll be the first thing I think about when I look at him from now on. He thinks I’m a slut.

There’s nothing. Nothing I can say.

“You’re a dick.”

“That’s all you can come up with?”

“Drink your fucking water.”

“I’m gonna need another one. This one’s almost gone.”

I turn to the fridge and open it, taking an unopened Poland Spring and shutting the door. I unscrew the cap, holding it by my fingers as I make my way over to him.

Jimmy reaches out for it. “Thanks.”

I don’t reciprocate his outstretched hand.

I squeeze the water out of the opening, shooting it like a water gun onto his face, watching it trickle down his chin and down his shirt. I continue that until it’s completely empty. He’s reasonably drenched. When he looks me in the eye, I see anger, a hint of enragement, but I don’t feel the need to run.

That closed smile of his appears across his cross-looking face. He whispers it loud enough in hopes that I hear it. “You fucking bitch.”

“I’ve heard that one before.”

His long index finger appears in my line of vision. “You got a reason?”

I look around the room aimlessly. “I don’t know. Maybe it was for the element of a surprise.”

That ticked him off enough to lunge toward me, probably in hopes he’ll grab me again, but I’m able to put my speed to the test and find a temporary solace behind the sink. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Or what?”

“Or I will call the cops to report a drunk and disorderly man that’s going ape-shit in my apartment.”

“It’s my apartment,” he seethes through his teeth. “None of this is yours.”

“Sure it’s mine. I’ve got my own bed, toothbrush-”

“I paid for the bed. You’re just taking up space.”

“I’ve heard that one before too.”

“Anyone ever tell you Ryan never loved you?”

I roll my eyes. “Anyone ever tell you no woman’s ever going to love you?”

Crickets.

“Take that back.”

“I will not,” I say confidently.

Crickets again.

“You know what, Abb?”

“What?”

He just stares.

“What you gonna do? Put your hands on me? Because I can call the cops on that too and charge you with assault.”

He continues staring.

“We can do this in two ways. You can do something you’re going to regret tomorrow morning, perhaps the rest of your life if it gets to that point, or you can change and sleep it off, and we can revisit this when we’re both calm.”

“I am calm.” How funny he says this as his veins are protruding out of his hands.

“You are?” I say, stepping away from the sink and moving around it to now stand in front of him, near the arm of the couch. “Then don’t react.”

I can feel his hand immediately attach to my wrist, probably in hopes he’ll break it off my arm.

“Let. Go.” It comes out hoarse.

“You’ve already done that,” he spits in my face.

I attempt to break free from his grip, but then again, it’s too strong. I would love to kick him in the you-know-where, but I’d figure that would cause more retaliation. Besides, it’s hard to do with only one way of leverage.

“And you never have,” I grit through my teeth.

“Doing better than you ever will.” I can feel my hand start to tingle.

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“I would be doing better if you weren’t here.”

“You think I’m threatened by that?”

“I don’t think your ego can withstand any threats at this rate.”

I smile. “That’s so nice.”

“I get that a lot.”

“Do you?”

“Mm-hmm. I just tell everyone I live with a grieving, wilting, ugly scumbag.”

“And I live with a guy that’s only got 2 inches attached to him.”

“Well, it used to be 9, but I’ve lost one every month you’ve been here.”

“Wanna show me?” Whoa. Now that’s bold.

“You know I can’t consent under these conditions.” Fuck, he still figured it out. He’s not wrong, though. But to be clear, it’s a joke.

“But I can consent to being given bruises on my waist?” I lift up my shirt with my free hand, showing the tiny bumps he somehow managed to make from that action alone.

“I did that?” He reaches out to touch one before I take my free hand and back him into the corner of the sink, eliciting a thud from behind him, causing some deep breaths before he grabs me by the V-neck of my shirt.

“Let go,” I croak out of my mouth.

“Or what?” The beer smell has finally dissipated. Now, it’s just close to stone-cold sober words.

I turn around to think his hand will reluctantly remove itself, but that doesn’t work as he drags me back. “Or I will bruise you.”

“Go ahead and try with those petite hands, Ms. Whore. Let’s see if it’s gotten you-”

I take my free hand again and go to pinch his ear like I did before, bringing his head down. He doesn’t flinch.

“That doesn’t hurt,” he tells me.

“So then why is it getting red?” I ask.

“Beats me.”

“Damn right I could.”

He takes his hand off my shirt and steps to turn toward the sink and reach for his phone on the counter. I’m already there first, holding it in my hand. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

I wave a hand in front of him. “Relax. I’m not calling the police.”

I can hear Jimmy breathe a sigh of relief. “Good, cause-”

I launch it across the room where it slams into the wall and thuds on the floor. Deep down, I’m praying to God I didn’t break it. I don’t want that on my conscience, and I wouldn’t even be able to excuse that. I’m just so mad right now. I really am.

A feeling of thankfulness surges through me when I see his home screen light up, sending a notification. I’m not sure what, but that’ll be his problem later.

“It’s not broken,” I say, shrugging. “Might have a couple cracks, but still works.”

I didn’t even realize I was still staring at his phone on the ground that when I turn my head and see him up against my side, with honestly no other place to go.

“For Christ’s sake, Jim, it’s not-”

I can’t even finish the sentence as my brain short circuits with the feeling of him turning around and placing his entire hand on my neck and pressing down hard beneath my chin, digging his fingernails into the sides.

I slam my heel into the back of the chair and look straight at him. “Can’t,” I sputter out. “Can’t-”

“Can’t what?” He coos. “Can’t breathe? Can’t admit when you’re wrong?”

I cough in his face, only expelling out a tiny amount of air. “Choke-choking me.”

“I am?” The pads of his fingers drag along my neck. “So tell me.”

“Just-” I cough again. “Just did.”

My chest rises what I consider an abnormal height before I let out a wheeze. All he can manage to do is smile back. “What’s that saying? Karma’s a bitch or something like that?”

I wheeze again.

“Gonna call for help now? I don’t have a phone.”

I let out an unintentional cry. “Help me.”

“You want me to help you?” He laughs. From the sound of it, that’s not a drunk laugh. That’s a sober laugh. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Mur-Murder.”

“I’m not gonna kill you, Abb,” he says. “I mean, in an alternate universe, I could, doesn’t me I will. Well, not today at least.”

My eyes go wide. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t kill me.”

“You’ve already done that to yourself,” he lets out.

Suddenly, it becomes difficult to even inhale a single breath. I don’t wanna risk touching him, so I smack the counter with my hand three times. Then again. And again.

“Stop doing that,” he sarcastically coos. “You’re-”

I can feel my mouth part open as I feel saliva dripping out of it, staring straight into Jimmy’s eyes.

While at the same time, my eyes start to close.

“Abb?” He asks with alarm in his voice. “Abb, hey.”

I fail to answer as I feel myself slide down the side of the counter and hit my head, finding myself sitting on the floor, staring at the outline of his wet outfit with the outline of the brick fireplace taking shape in the corner. His hand instantly retracts off my neck and that’s when I’m sent into a coughing frenzy, feeling like my heart is going to travel up my throat and out of my mouth. I breathe quick and fast. It’s the onset of an attack.

The only difference is I actually can find someone who’s alive to blame.

He continues to sit in front of me, and I can tell by his widened eyes that he is fully aware of what he did. No excuse could make up for almost trying to kill me, quite literally.

Neither of us speak as I start to figure out my breathing pattern, slowing down and moving to sit on my knees, aware of the fact I’m sitting on my feet and I’m maintaining perfect eye contact level.

“Jesus, Abb,” he starts. “I, I don’t know what I was-”

I’m able to give him a taste of his own medicine of knowing how it feels to not be able to speak by taking advantage of no bondage and raising my hand, slapping him across the face, as I watch him bend his head down toward the floor.

He comes back up to look at me again. “Okay, I deserved-”

I take my other hand and slap the other side, watching him repeat the same action. By the time he looks up, both my hands are burning.

I can’t even bother to look up at him for another second before I stand up and move over to his side, extending my hand. “Can I help you now?”

Jimmy looks shocked that even those words are spewing out of my mouth. He stands up off the floor without taking my hand. “Yeah.”

Another incident swept under the carpet.

I motion him to go in his room, as he grabs the remnants of his costume and walks into the dark, turning on his lamp. I’m back in the kitchen, reaching into the top cabinet to retrieve a glass cup and the bottom cabinet to unscrew the Tylenol capsules, dropping two into my hand. I screw the cap back on, put it back in the cabinet, and shut the door. Standing back up, I fill the cup with lukewarm water from the sink because it’s what he deserves now. I walk over to his door and push it open after it moved to being close to shut, sitting on his bed, chin in his hands, running one of them through his hair.

Walking over to his nightstand, I put down the water and the caplets. He looks up to see them in his view, but before he can even thank me (that’s if he was going to), I’ve already shut his door and back into the kitchen to turn off the light before I look around in the dark.

He’s starting to go dark.

And I’m quite afraid that I am too. 

Before I barricade myself in my room, I remember his freshly cracked phone is still lying on the floor. I concentrate on my feet making their way across the cold wood and picking it up, examining it with the little amount of light I have. 

Dragging my finger across the crack, it starts from the top left corner and moves diagonally to the bottom right. I press the power button on the side just to double check it still works. His home screen lights up again. I breathe another sigh of relief for confirmation.

I carry it in my hand and move away from the wall to stand in front of his door. I don’t even bother knocking. I turn the handle and walk into his room. I know for a fact he wasn’t sleeping, but he’s lying down, probably just staring up at the ceiling. That’s a creepy thought to have.

I walk across the carpet and hold it out to him, hoping he’ll take it.

He does, without saying a word. I’m now able to see his face illuminated by the screen.

“I’ll get you a new screen protector,” I say quietly. Looking over to the nightstand, I can see he already took the tylenol. That’s one less thing I’ll feel the need to nag him about.

Jimmy makes contact with those stupid, dilated eyes of his. He doesn’t respond to that either.

And so I turn around and shut his door for the second time. Maybe on the third, it’ll be when we no longer have matching keys.

When that time does come, maybe we’ll no longer be resentful of each other.

[gwydionmisha]

Personal: In Which I Accidentally Freak Out a Guy

Sunday was a trip to the Lake with Millennials. No rich children stole my crutch this time. We had a really good swim, but the current was above average strong and at some point I was like, "Oh shit! There's the swim bouy! We are in the middle of the boat lanes. We swam back. It was fine. They put in an outdoor shower this year, which is a huge help. After we showered we ate finger foods and chatted.

I stopped by the bathrooms on the way to my car and OMG! It was one of those things where there was a perfectly logical explanation from the perspective of the three of us already in the bathroom, but like opening a door into chaos for the other two people involved.

This bathroom is tiny. Three stalls on your left. Across from that a big metal communal urinal. The sink and mirror give an excellent view of the door and also a small bench they jammed in against the door wall. It's almost 6:30PM on a crowded hot weekend. it's a couple hours before sunset, so the park is less crowded than when we arrived 4ish, but people are still arriving and the bathroom is Trashed. The little beach strip is more mud then sand and people have been tracking water and black mud/sand in there for about ten hours and there is tp paper mache all over the ground and the toilets desperately need cleaning.

So I step out of the stall, just as a person is heading to the nasty ass urinal trench thing. Another guy is climbing up on the bench to change, because he understandably doesn't want to be barefoot on that floor and then put on shoes to drive home. Bench guy is soon full on pooh bear over my right shoulder as i wash my hands, which takes a while because the water keeps auto shutting off, so I have to stop and restart every few seconds. Perfectly framed over my left shoulder is the door, which swings open.

It's two gentlemen, one of whom beelines for the urinal. The other freezes in horror and starts yelling, "Wrong bathroom! Wrong bathroom!" I have very long hair. I am wearing a mask because I'm in a small, poorly ventilated place. I have on a black tee and my trunks look like goth shorts. My sandals are of an ubiquitous style worn my any gender in my region in good weather. I'm very androgynous. I think it was my hair causing the initial panic, but his head turned to follow his friend's trajectory to the 2-3 person piss trench and he saw bench guy crouched pantsless behind me like a downhill skier doing the streak, as if he was possibly about to pounce on my back, and his cries of wrong bathroom got a lot more shrill. In my head I'm picturing the Guy in Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas who walks in on hippies liking a guy's jacket. His oblivious friend is doing his business, the other guy is about to leave. I turn and head towards the poor panicky guy and am like: It's the right bathroom. I have long hair.

We have accidentally traumatized a guy who was clearly not ready for the PNW weird.

A couple millennials came back for dinner. Once we arrived, I realized just how fucked I was. I'd swum too long and my arms were DONE. Luckily, I'd dropped off New Millennial to get their car and a take 'n bake, so I could just lung and rest up. They ended up staying very late talking. I closed down the apartment for the night and went to bed.

I could have gotten up ninish, but I decided to read Camp Damascus in between pettins and supplemental sleep all day, which turned out to be a good call. I have this thing where I promise the Millennials that if they are ever stranded at one of the further bits of town they can call me and if I physically can, I will come get them. Bus service is even shittier out there and there's a severe lack of shelters to wait in. It was pouring down at a rate that was threatening to flood low lying areas. A Millennial was trapped at the back of beyond with a long drenching slog to the bus. Of course I went, but it turned into a a much longer trip than intended for reasons that were no one's fault. I got them home and reasonably dry though, and I'm not sorry.

It did eat and extra chunk of evening though, and I'm really chewed up from swimming. I am very glad I got the aggregate out Friday, because I'm not up to much posting this evening.

We plan to do lake swimming on Sundays all August, which will effect posting schedule.

[polygonal-trees]

I don't much like putting this stuff here but I need to get it off my chest and I don't want to use my main

today, after thinking about it for a long time, I decided to put some much needed distance between myself and somebody who used to be a very close friend. I don't want to cut them off completely but idk if pur friendship will survive

and the truth is that i don't even feel that bad about it because it really needed to happen.

what used to be a normal, happy relationship turned extremely toxic. there had always been ups and downs, but nothing that couldn't be talked through and overcome. or so I thought. in retrospect I wonder if I was just giving in and apologising to avoid conflict

but anyway, my friend has a long history of mental illness, including suicidal ideation. this is incredibly stressful for friends and family in its own right and I've weathered many sleepless nights, but it was worth it because I could help someone really important to me. more recently however, I feel like my friend was lashing out at their friends far more often and treating us really terribly

I don't want to go into detail but some stuff was said over DMs that was really horrible, and while I know it's a product of their mental illness, that doesn't make it any easier to deal with

and the fact is that I am also mentally ill. not in the same way or to the same degree, but I certainly don't have the mental or emotional fortitude to cope with that degree of stress, repeatedly, from someone I'm supposed to be able to trust and confide in. I went from enjoying my friend's company to constantly worrying that I was about to say or do (or not say or not do) something that would cause them to either shut down and storm off, or start saying some really fucked up and hurtful things

I've also never received an apology. I get that mentally ill people are expected to apologise to a ridiculous degree, but after all the fucking grovelling I've done I'd at least appreciate a fucking "sorry i hurt you"

anyway. we just got back from a short trip - me, them, and a third close friend - and apart from some of your standard travel troubles everything went really well. we all had a great time. and yet.

and yet.

it still ended with my friend storming out of the hotel late at night to stay elsewhere, because they 'didn't want to be around us'. no other explanation until the morning

apparently there were multiple contributing factors, but one of them was that I... didn't say thank you enough.

and good god that's just bullshit

being annoyed at me? fine. thinking I'm ungrateful? fine. but fucking refusing to spend the night in the same building as me?? I'm not putting up with that!!

even if I genuinely didn't say thank you enough (something i disagree with lmao) I have the right to be mildly dickish without worrying that it's going to cause a mental breakdown. I am not - and I cannot stress this enough - I am not mentally healthy enough to cope with that.

and to top it all off, the reason I may have seemed ungrateful or w/e is probably because I am currently going through a depressive episode. something my friend knew about, because I told them.

so to have them turn around and blame me for shit caused by my mental illness when their mental illness causes them to actively hurt people all the fucking time, is just another step too far. again, it's not their fault, but I think their mental illness makes them so self centered that they genuinely don't know how hypocritical they are. and that's not something I can fix

this isn't even the worst thing that's happened, but I know that if this is the result of an overall really good experience, then I need to jump ship before the next genuine crisis because fucking hell

anyway it's been a few hours since I told them I'm going to take a step back and I haven't read their reply yet because I know it's going to be rough lmao

(god but my message was so fucking kind as well, all 'i want what's best for you' and 'I'll treasure the memories'. I don't think they'll ever appreciate how nice i was being despite how hurt and angry i am)

but at the same time, I already feel better, and it turns out that several of our mutual friends have done similar (tho idk if they sent messages) so at least I feel supported and understood. it's just going to be tough moving forward because they were a very significant part of my life for a very long time, tho i know this was definitely the right choice

anyway, back to the robot posting. til all are one or whatever lmao

[riddlesrose]

that’s all, for real

w/ scaramouche

cw; none just very very very ooc scar bcs i just want to see him cared for but by a roommate instead of s/o 👁️

the cold winter weather covered the outside like a shaken snow globe. whisping winds and unique snowflakes flew from every which direction as they pleased.

the current show you were watching was some reality tv drama series about a girl who’s really annoying and all the male leads like her and whatnot, stupid old movies that look the same.

you picked up your phone, the time read ‘12:28 pm’, that’s weird, your roommate should’ve been back by now, but considering the weather… probably reasonable he’s late.

mindlessly scrolling through your phone, another half an hour passes and scaramouche still isn’t back. you’re staying up to make sure he gets home and to see if he was actually going to eat something. (he usually waits until the morning to eat but then complains that he’s hungry and you’re taking too long making eggs.)

you decided on calling him instead of waiting with no answer, one ring, two rings, three rings, four- you’re thinking of hanging up, maybe he chose to stay at a friends place and just didn’t bother telling you, “what.”

“would ya look at that, where the hell are ya?”

“outside the fucking door. open it.”

“no.” with that, you hung up and grabbed the first modest sweater you found.

the short walk to the front door to your shared apartment was long enough to scaramouche that he started knocking annoyingly, but not loud enough to wake the neighbours annoying dog that barks every day.

when you opened the door, you didn’t move so that scaramouche could get inside, no, you stood in the door way fully aware he was trying to enter the apartment, “so, why was the princess late to the castle this time?”

he looked you straight in the eyes, “don’t call me that god damn you, let me in before my fingers fall off.”

“fine, fine, fine.”

“you’re stupid.”

“you’re annoying.”

“you’re dumb.”

“you’re.. yeah no i’m out, too late for insults, when are you going to sleep? never?”

“whenever i do, now go so i can change.”

you followed suit and left to your room. the tv was still on but you decided to switch channels to come adult animated show, whatever was on at 1am.

settling back into your covers, long turned cold, your door slowly reopens, “stay back ghosts, i swear i’m armed.” your tired voice made the scare tactic unable to be scary as the door fully opened and revealed scaramouche, cleanly changed and what looks like should be off to bed after his long ass day.

“off to bed? came to say goodnight? what a good roo-”

you couldn’t finish your sentence as scaramouch silently closed the door again and made his way over to you, and sat on the floor, leaning against your bed.

“hey?”

“it.. it’s cold.”

“it’s mid december, i get it, it’s cold as balls in here.”

the gentle tone gave scaramouche the ‘ok’ to shift from the floor onto your bed, seemingly awkwardly.

you placed a hand on his back, “no need to feel embarrassed, i understand.”

he dramatically falls on his back after you removed your hand and replaced it under the covers. there was momentary shifting before it stopped and you felt his knees brush yours, he was facing you.

with the tv long forgotten and just used as a dim light source, you could see the outline of scaramouche’s face. you took your finger and traced a star on his cheek,

“stop that.”

you traced another star on his forehead,

“hey-”

and another on his other cheek,

“seriously..”

“yes seriously, you’re handsome, accept that.” he didn’t reply, only moved himself a bit closer to you, only because you were warm, that’s all, not because he secretly enjoyed the company and care, nope, not at all.

scaramouche’s bangs hung down across his forehead while you observed his tv lit features.

his hair was soft as you brushed his bangs back with your fingers and pressed the smallest, lightest kiss on his forehead. scaramouche was taken aback, he wasn’t expecting that. last person who ever did that was his mother. he hasn’t seen her in years.

aas he was still processing things you pulled him closer so that he’s be laying against you if he were to lay his head down flat, which he did after you shifted him over.

you wrapped an arm around his torso, and ran the other ran through his hair, slightly massaging his head in the process. thanks to you, sleep came easy to scaramouche that night unlike most of the previous nights. but only because you were warm, that’s all.

[nctsworld]

two nights, one you

✩‌ jaemin ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ fuckboy!jaemin | strangers (who f*ck) to (brief) enemies to lovers | ‌10.9k 

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ a last-minute one night stand gone awry is extended into two nights when you’re snowed in at the cute (but rude) stranger’s apartment on christmas eve. [loosely based on the movie, two night stand] // part of the x-mas in ncity collection  GENRES ⇾ crack | smut | fluff  WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌lots of bickering and dialogue, smut, oral s*x (f and m receiving), fingering, mentions of alcohol/drinking, swearing, bit of angst before the end, jaemin’s an asshole... or is he? RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen​ 

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ it’s late (and long fsldkm), srysry but here it is! i hope the humour comes out in this and look away if falls flat zzz fingers crossed that i can finish the last two installments for this collection asap! 

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

Maybe it’s because it’s the evening of Christmas Eve Eve and you’re feeling more lonely than usual.

Maybe it’s due to the two glasses of wine you guzzled down in the span of fifteen minutes that get you buzzed.

Maybe it’s your prominent six-month dry spell and you’re in desperate need for some much needed rain in your drought.    

Or maybe it’s just pure impulsiveness.

Regardless of the reasons, you’re aiming to get laid tonight.  

It’s 9:45pm as you make the rounds on Tinder. You’ve used it in the past, searching for a relationship in vain, but haven’t used it much since you broke up with your last partner. Bringing the app alive again, you’re already bombarded by distasteful messages, off-putting one-liners and jokes, and swiping left more than you’d like.

You haven’t had a one-night stand before, but isn’t there anyone on here that is just a little bit attractive, nearby where you are, around your age, and is somewhat chivalrous about the topic besides saying DTF? Maybe you need to lower your standards if you want to get dicked down tonight.

But then, you land on him.

One Na Jaemin, 20 years old, and only four miles away from you.

Scrolling through his profile pictures and Instagram feed, you assume that he’s into photography, is on the athletic side from the various hobbies he partakes in, and he must be at least half-aware of his beauty because there’s the occasional pic that shows off his lean, toned arms, which, if you can be frank, is more flattering than the shirtless ones you constantly see. Oh, and he attends the same university as you.

The cherry on top? His bio is simple and upfront:

“Not up for anything serious, but always down for a good time ;)”

You swipe right without hesitation.

“It’s a Match!” flashes instantly at you. Your mouth swings open in disbelief.  

Usually, you’d wait for your matches to message you and play hard-to-get, but not tonight. Tonight, you’re initiating and leading all the conversations, completely driven by your thirst.  

Messaging Jaemin is a breeze. He types with more than half a brain, and he flirts, but it isn’t overwhelming or repulsive. Segueing the current topic, you drag your bottom lip upward as you send the following message:  

so, hypothetically... if one were to have good time with you would tonight work?

Not even twenty seconds later and he replies with:

-wow, dont you go straight to the point -im impressed -but yeah -tonight works ;)

He’s quick to send his address.

-let me know when ur here and ill come get you out front!

Smacking your lips together, you squeal to yourself in the comfort of your home, excited to meet with him, but then a thought hangs over you—this feels a little too good to be true. Horrible scenarios run through your head, so your fingers dash across your phone’s keyboard:

tbh i haven’t really done this b4 so im kinda new to this is it ok if we video call or smth? gotta make sure you’re real and not a serial killer i’m sure you understand 😛

-for sure for sure -totally get it -ive had my fair share of fake girls and serial killers so i feel u 😛

Grateful for his consideration, you rush to rearrange your hair after you send him a Zoom link, hoping you look decent enough to not have him back off from his initial offer. He appears in the video call on his phone with the front-facing camera on a few seconds after you connect.

“Hi,” you chirp.

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Hey.”  

Okay, he’s definitely cuter in real-time than in his pictures.  

“You know, I’m not gonna lie, but I lowkey expected to see a dick or something,” you joke in an attempt to dispel your nervousness.  

“Same,” he chuckles, running a hand through his black hair.

Oh God, he’s not just cute—he’s devastatingly gorgeous.

“So, this is my place...”

Jaemin moves around with his apartment in the background, revealing his living room first. Envy prods you as you note the brick walls, high ceiling windows, and well-appointed furnishings.

Recalling his address, you ask, “How’d you get a place in the heart of the city?”

“Lucked out,” he shrugs. His phone shakes a bit as he’s still moving. “My friend slash roommate—who is at his girlfriend’s place tonight, so we have the place all to ourselves—his parents own the condo and they gave me a friend discount on the rent.”

He finally stands in one place and turns the light on to reveal a room. “And this is my bedroom.”

Nothing out of the ordinary. A desk table with a gaming set-up, in tow with a gamer chair, and a decently-sized bed beside a nightstand.

“Oh, and here’s my closet.” Jaemin’s on the move again as he opens his closet doors. “Just to make sure you don’t think I hide the skins of my past one-nighters in here.”

A bubbly laugh rises from you. “Okay, I didn’t think of that before, but now you’ve planted the seed in my head. Maybe you hide them in the other rooms.”

“Nah, my roommate would kill me if I did.”

Both of you laugh in unison, and you bob your head with puffed cheeks.  

“Okay, it all seems very promising. I’m going to get ready and I’ll guess I’ll see you in a bit, Jaemin.”

“Sounds good,” Jaemin nods, then winks. Although you’re sitting down, he’s still able to get you weak in the knees. “See you soon.”

You end the call and rush to bundle up for the snow starting to come down outside. A twenty-minute train ride later, you’re at the front door of a rustic, industrial apartment complex. After informing Jaemin you’re outside, you glance up at the snowflakes falling from the dark pink-grey sky, anticipating for what comes next.

Sex with a hot guy, what can go wrong?  

So, you must’ve jinxed it because the sex is...  

Unsatisfying. Finished faster than you’d like it to be. Sadly, overall disappointing. If you had to rate it, three out of five stars, at best.

But hey, he came, and you sort of did, and it wasn’t the worst sex you’ve ever had. It half-quenched your dry spell.

And enough happened that it tired you out, leaving you passed out in the handsome stranger’s bed until morning.

In the morning, your eyes slowly flicker, unused to the foreign, sweet scent engulfing you in your bed. Correction: Jaemin’s bed.

Your eyes flicker faster as you glance through the almost wall-sized window. The snow hasn’t let up from last night. On the contrary, it seems like it’s snowing non-stop. You groan at the thought of going home in this weather.

The bed is without Jaemin’s presence as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. 10:36AM and a few notifications greet you. You rub your eyes and start combing through them, rising upward to sit up on the bed.

“Morning. You’re finally up.”

Peering up from your device, Jaemin’s standing by the door with folded arms. His plain sweater and sweatpants match the colour of his hair. The dazzling smile he gives is so contagious, you’re not even conscious of catching one too.  

“Out you go.”

You blink.

Once, twice, and then you tilt your head as you stare blankly at him, uncertain if you heard him correctly.

After a few moments, because you’re not moving an inch, his smile dissipates and he cocks an eyebrow in expectancy. A serious expression rolls over his face.  

Suddenly, Jaemin strolls to the side of the bed and hitches his thumb towards the door.

You definitely heard him right.

And he’s dead-serious.

You replay the video call from last night, dissecting how you thought he was nice and funny and—

Realization dawns on you.

Why would you expect anything more from a two-faced fuck boy?

Still awestruck by the situation, you’re still solid as a statue, so Jaemin takes matters into his own hands and grasps you by your elbow, casually dragging you from his bed like he’s taking out the trash.  

“What the fuck?!” you screech.

“C’mon, let’s go. Out out.”

“My clothes, though!” you protest in the middle of the hallway. He sighs in frustration, scurries to the bedroom, and returns with a small pile in his arms, then continues to drag you to the front door.  

“Are you always this pleasant with your guests the morning after?” you rage, putting on the rest of your clothes by the door. ���You don’t even have the decency to offer me tea or coffee?”

“This was a one-night stand, not a bed and breakfast, sunshine,” he says as he watches you put your shoes on. He’s folding his arms again and leaning against the wall, his attitude dripping with smug. If he wasn’t a stranger, you’d punch it off his face. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were new to this, huh?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means you’re a borderline virgin who needs to toodle-loo, get going and gone because you’re overstaying your welcome as we speak.”

Finishing putting on your coat, you’re fuming as your jaw hangs at the personal jab over your skills in bed. Jaemin swings the door open and shoves you through it.

“But I’ll admit, it was still nice having sex with you!” he chimes with a sickening grin and a hand on the door.  

“Aw, thanks asshole, wish I could say the same,” you sarcastically reply, resting a palm upon your chest.  

He scoffs. “From what I heard last night, I think I can confidently say that you had a great time.”

Flashbacks replay in your mind of your screaming fest from underneath him. Little did Jaemin actually know—

“You know, for someone who I assume has many one-night stands,” you spit with squinted eyes. “I’m surprised you can’t tell when girls fake it.”

You must’ve hit a sore spot because he grinds his teeth and you could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

Oh yeah, you’re definitely the winner in this fight.

“Okay, you know what, Merry Christmas and fuck you. Have a great life!”

“Fuck you, dickface. Wishing you a miserable Christmas!”

With a bitter smile, you flip him off as he slams the door in your face.

Carrying a basket filled with dirty clothes, Jaemin’s on the way down to the laundry room in the basement of his apartment with his shoulder scrunched up, squeezing his phone to his ear.

“Bro, she had the audacity to say that I didn’t make her come when she was screaming my God damn ear off—”

As he steps down the short flight of stairs and passes by the foyer area by the main entrance to the building, he notices you’re still here.

“Shit, uh, Jeno,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna have to call you back.”

He stuffs his phone into the pocket of his sweats and calls out to you as he strides closer. “Are you resorting to stalking me by my front door now?”

With crossed arms, you peer over your shoulder, eyes full of bitterness.

“Like I wanna be anywhere near you right now,” you grumble. You jerk your head towards the thick, wooden door. “It’s jammed from the snow.”

The laundry carrier shakes his head and places the basket onto the floor. “A little snow never hurt anyone. You’re probably just too weak.”

Stepping aside and holding out an arm, you signal for him to give it a try.

Jaemin twists the handle and, lo and behold, it doesn’t open. His forehead crinkles as he tries again and again, using more force each time.

Glancing through one of the partially frosted windows adjacent to the sides of the door, he notices the snow has piled enormously high, almost to the height of his chest.

“Well, shit.”  

Reluctantly, Jaemin brings you back to his apartment. You’re technically his guest and if he left you in the foyer to freeze, trouble would surely come his way, whether it be in the form of his landlords (also known as his roommate’s parents) or the police.

Without a word, he settles a spoon in a bowl, a carton of milk, and a box of cereal onto the small kitchen table.

At first, you stare at it venomously in rejection, thinking you can easily last a day without any hand-outs from this son of a bitch, but your stomach roars ferociously three seconds later.

As you chew across from him, you enjoy the company of your phone over him, while he does the same but with a cup of coffee in hand.

After finishing your food, you adamantly place your phone down and lean back into the chair, boring holes into his head.

“Why are you such an asshole?” you seethe observantly.

“Why are you such a bitch?” he retorts, not pulling his gaze away from his phone.

“Because you started it,” you say slowly, stating the obvious.

“No, you.”

You sigh defeatedly at his childish behaviour. The weather apps predict the snow will (hopefully) die down by tomorrow morning, thus you’re officially stuck with him for the next twenty-four hours or so. Your hands rake through your hair.

“Whether we like it or not, the snow isn’t going away until tomorrow. Merry Christmas Eve to us, I guess.”

He’s still glued to his phone. You exhale another sigh.

“Since we’re not getting out of this until then, can we just...” You soften your voice. “Start over?”

His eyes are still on the screen, but from the way his shoulders tense and how he stops scrolling, you know he’s considering your proposition.

“At least call a stalemate over this.” You drift your hand in the air, gesturing between you and him.

Blowing out air and shaking his head, he rests his phone onto the table.

“Fine.”

He crosses his arms, imitating you, and the two of you sit there, staring at each other in a long silence.  

One minute, to be exact.

You’re the one to break the silence game by running your hands over your face, letting out a hybrid of a groan and laugh.

“God, the fact that we had sex makes this kinda awkward, huh?”

Jaemin’s exterior melts slightly, letting out a snicker. He shrugs, “Then let’s just pretend that we didn’t have sex.”

“We can’t just pretend that we didn’t have sex,” you say, holding two upturned palms near your face.

“We did it, it’s done. I’ve seen your penis, you kicked me out, and you labelled me a prude—” You dart a finger towards him. “—which I am far from, by the way. All of those are pretty huge things.”

One of the corners of his mouth raises high. “Are you saying my penis is huge?”

“No, the implication of said penis is huge. Wipe that smirk off your face.”

He stretches an arm, holding an imaginary microphone to your face. “Do you deny that my penis is huge?”

Rolling your eyes, you swat his fist away. “What am I, on trial here?”

“Do you plead the fifth then?”

Annoyed, you roll your eyes again. Why do you get the feeling that you’re probably going to be doing this a lot more today? Another feeling tells you that if you don’t answer his question, he’ll probably pester you until you do.

You tilt your head side to side. “It’s... decently sized.”

“Bigger or smaller than average?”

“Perfect...” His eyes light up. “...ly average.” And a frown rolls over.

He squints his eyes accusingly at your sneer. “Are you lying like you did before about faking it?”

You scoff. “I wasn’t lying about faking it, and I’m not lying now about your average sized dick.”

Jaemin releases a disgruntled grumble and lifts his cup to his face. You notice he likes to take his coffee black and bitter, presumably like his heart.

“So, Miss I’m-Not-A-Prude-and-I’ve-Definitely-Had-Sex-Before.” His eyebrows perk up on the word definitely. “What’s your story? Why the last minute one-night stand?”

Shrugging your shoulders to your ears, you reply, “Haven’t had sex in a while.”

“When’s the last time you had sex?” he asks mid-sip.

“Half a year ago,” you respond nonchalantly, perching your chin into your palms.

Jaemin immediately chokes, almost spraying the coffee through his nose.

“Half a year?!” he gasps. It takes him a few hits to his chest to dispel the coughing. “Six months?!”

“Wow, you can count!” you exclaim in a condescending tone. You change the position of your hands so that your chin is now atop of the back of your curled fingers and tilt your head. “Can you also spell?”

“As a premed student, I can assure you that I am capable of doing both,” he says with a slight strain due to the coughing fit. The humble brag brings on another eye roll. Of course he’s a premed student with the attitude he wears.

“It’s just—” He clears his throat and swallows the last bit of coffee stuck in his windpipe. “—The last time I had a dry spell was for like, a month, tops.”

So the fuckboy gets laid way more on the daily than you expect. You’re torn between being envious over how much action he gets in comparison to you, or remorseful, since you’re now just one of the many notches on his bedpost.

No matter, sarcasm is always the best defence mechanism.

“Good for you, Jaemin. I’m sure you’re very proud of that.”

There’s an awkward beat. His head hangs for a moment while his thumbs stroke the sides of his cup. A strange pinch of guilt occurs. Did you overstep an unspoken line? But then he drags himself back to reality in a heartbeat.

Jaemin brings the cup to his mouth again, mumbling, “At least the sex on your part makes more sense now; you’re rusty as fuck.”

Completely aware of what he said, you trash your guilt entirely and narrow your eyes. “What did you just say?”

Following a long sip, he hums, “Mmm, nothing.” Soon after, he stands up with his cup.

“I’m gonna go game now. Feel free to watch Netflix on the TV and stay in the living room.”

As if you had anywhere else to go...  

He begins to walk towards his room as you mutter under your breath, “I’m not a dog.”

“Says the bitch,” he pipes up, taking you by surprise.  

“Thought we had a stalemate?!” you shout, leaning your head forward as you watch him entering his room.  

“Doesn’t mean we’re on peaceful terms!” he sing-shouts.

The flinging of the closed door echoes throughout the apartment.

Regret surges through you. You just had to choose a fuckboy fluent in assholery and end up incidentally being isolated with him during a snow storm on Christmas Eve.

You wonder if you can handle being around him for the next twenty-four hours without killing him first.

During the afternoon, you’re on the living room couch, playing a show as mostly background noise while you’re on your phone. At one point, your phone unsurprisingly begins to die and you tread over to Jaemin’s door to ask for a charger and if you can also take a shower. He’s still annoyed by your existence, but at least he hands you a charger and lets you know where the extra towels are.

Stepping into the living room with the towel in your hand as you dry your hair off, you peer out the large living room window and see nothing but white engulfing the streets and buildings as far as the eye can see.

You pray the snow will eventually stop as soon as possible so you can head back home.

By the middle of the afternoon, Jaemin emerges from his bedroom and shocks you by plopping down on the opposite end of the living room couch from where you’re sitting.

“Bored?” you ask, eyes fixated on the TV screen.

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p as he says it. His slings his arm around the top of the couch.

“Gotta keep an eye on you in case you do something.” Turning away from the screen, he faces you and motions circles with his hand. “You’ve got a little crazy in you, I can feel it.”

You quickly glance over at him, but try to refocus on the TV. “Need I remind you that you’re the crazy one, dragging me out of the apartment right as I woke up.”

That compels him to turn his whole body towards you. “Well, you’re the one who wanted a last-minute one-night stand.”

You match his stance. “As if I’m the first girl in your bed to stay in the morning?”

“Actually, yeah.” He aggressively tilts his head to one side. “Most girls leave before I even get up. The other percentage don’t fight me when I ask for them to go, so it looks like you’re the odd one out.”  

You press your lips together, refusing to admit that maybe he has a point, under the assumption that he’s telling the truth.

Jaemin twists his body back to the screen and adds, “I make it very clear on my profile that I don’t do morning afters, sweetheart.”

And you agree that his profile is clear about his intentions, but that doesn’t mean you can condone his shitty behaviour.

“Well, sorry that I expected just an ounce of respect instead of getting kicked to the curb after you stuck your dick in me,” you grumble, shifting back to the show and crossing your arms.

“Morning afters lead to attachments, and attachments lead to feelings, and feelings lead to relationships,” he says the string of words clinically, as if it’s a mantra that he lives by.

Your eyebrows knit together as you whip your head towards him once more, studying him.

“And what’s so wrong with that?”

Deliberately averting your gaze, Jaemin grates his tongue between his teeth, a slight tsk audibly heard, and his chin juts out. There’s definitely a story behind his ways. He huffs and changes the subject.  

“Seriously?” He holds a hand out. “You’re watching this trashy show?”

Squinting your eyes at him, you could probably interrogate him further, but you decide otherwise.  

“It may be trashy,” you concur, looking at the TV. “But it’s my trashy comfort show.”

Following an over-the-top acted out scene between the show’s main love interests, Jaemin shoots up from the couch.

“Yeah, no, I can’t handle this. Can we either put on something else or game or something?”

“Why don’t you go back to your room to game, Mr. I’m-Not-Bored?”

“Like I said, I gotta keep an eye on you,” he says while bending over in front of the TV, already setting up the Playstation. He tosses you a controller as he strides to his side of the couch again.

He mumbles to himself, “Need to make sure you don’t go crazy from the lack of human interaction.”

Either Jaemin is selfish and only looking out for himself, or he wants to make sure you’re not feeling lonely in a stranger’s home.

Likely the first reason, you deduce—because why would a guy like Jaemin care about a mere one-night stand?

Admittedly, you’re not the best at games, especially at fighting ones. You can comprehend the move lists, but you like to live by button smashing the controller and repeating moves over and over.  

So it’s hilarious when you beat Jaemin every round with your surprisingly fruitful technique.

“Okay, this is bullshit,” Jaemin complains, sticking his tongue out in irritation. His ass is currently being handed to him on a plate again since you’re almost done killing his character off. “You must be lying to me; you have to be a pro player or some shit.”

Jaemin’s health bar is dangerously low as your character jabs his with a sword. He winces out loud and you snicker.

“Why do you think I always lie about everything?! Dude, you have serious trust issues,” you joke before you steal the opportunity to slice his character. One more hit and he’s done for.

“I do not! I just—nooo!”

You rise to your feet and pump your arms in the air, turning in circles in joy over yet another win.

Sulking, Jaemin eyes your little dance from his end on the couch, but as he watches you more, a feeling balloons in his chest. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Finally coming down from your post-win high, you spot an emerging grin from the corner of your eye, making you pause.    

“What?” you eye him suspiciously.

Your suspicion pops the sensation in his chest and, like a fish out of water, his eyes widen and his grin melts away.

“Nothing, uhm.” He ruffles his eyebrows and palms the back of his neck, quickly facing the TV. “Let’s go one more round and then we can switch to another game—”

Suddenly, the TV and surrounding lights switch off. Both of you waver your eyes, anticipating for them to come back on, but they unfortunately don’t.  

Jaemin rushes over to the window. When he swivels his head towards you, his face darkens.

“Looks like it’s at least the whole block. The streetlights are out too.”

Without another word, he dashes to the linen closet and brings back several blankets. He calmly explains that there won’t be heat since it’s connected to the electricity, so it’d be best to keep warm with the extra layers.

Not wanting to scare you, he doesn’t add the fact that due to the huge windows in the apartment, more unnecessary cold air will come in, but you’re already cognizant of it from your own logic and since the remaining heat dissolves rapidly.

You groan and retreat into the massive blanket over your shoulders, turtling your head.

You can’t believe you’re going to fucking die in this asshole’s apartment on Christmas Eve.

On the ends of the couch in your makeshift blanket jackets, both of you attend to your phones for a while.

From what people and the news outlets are saying, it’s not just the block, but the whole city grid is out. You frantically text your friends, giving updates on how you are and half-jokingly telling them that you’re going to die with your dreadful one-night stand. Some time passes and Jaemin tosses his phone  off to one side.  

“Well, since there’s nothing else to do and we should probably conserve our phone batteries—” You glance up at him from your phone and pout. Slowly nodding in agreement, you toss it aside too. “—why don’t we play a game of ‘I’ll-Give-You-Pointers-on-How-to-be-Better-in-Bed’?”

A smile burgeons on his irritatingly handsome face and your eyes roll. At this point, you wonder if the reaction is conditioned into you. “It’ll be my early Christmas gift to you.”

“Wow, so thoughtful, how could I ever thank you?” You drag the blanket closer to your chest in false gratitude.

You think for a serious moment if you really want to go through with this. Hearing Jaemin run his mouth on you unwarranted is already painful, but to give him the go-ahead to do so? Especially criticizing your skills in bed?  

You blow out a sigh, noting the slightly visible cloud. You’re grateful Jaemin has thick, downy blankets.  

Well, if you’re going to die, may as well know what went wrong, right?

“Fine, but if we’re playing this game, we have to say everything honestly and take the criticism we get.” You point a stern finger. “No rebuttals, just acceptance.”

“Wait.” Jaemin crinkles his face in genuine confusion as his hand peeks out from his blanket.

“You have things to criticize about me in bed?”

Your lips tremble before you burst into laughter. Displeasure is on Jaemin’s tight-lipped face as you laugh for a while, almost keeling over in your blanket ball onto the hardwood floor. “How conceited are you, oh, my fucking God?”

He slices his hand through the air. “I’ve never had any complaints—”

“Because you’re too busy focusing on your own orgasm, you selfish dickwad,” you say as your laughter dies down.  

He sits in his snit for a few more moments until he gets over it.

“Fine, fine,” he huffs. Jaemin knows he’s not going to enjoy this, but he’s the one who suggested it. He can’t back out now. “Let’s just get this over with, you go first.”

With your blanket held by your chest, you hop off your end of the couch and shuffle over in front of him where he’s seated. Beaming, you begin.

“Let’s start with foreplay.” Jaemin’s eyes light up with confidence, thinking he’s at least decent with that. You crush his expression as your lips purse and you shake your head.

“Non-existent.”

“What do you mean?! I kissed you as you took off your clothes.”

You stick your free hand out from your blanket, extending your index finger.

“One: you only kissed my lips. You know, there are other parts of me to kiss, like, I don’t know, my neck, my arms, my shoulders.”

You extend another finger. “And, two: it’s weird to not help someone take off their clothes. Like you’re in a super rush to get somewhere or something—”

“We’re fucking!” he cuts in sharply. “This is a one-night stand, not a relationship.”

Closing your eyes and dropping your head, you pinch the bridge of your nose. You sigh in exaggeration.

“Thought we agreed no rebuttals...” you softly sing-say.  

Jaemin’s head sinks a little into his blanket. “Sorry.”

Removing your hand, you shrug. “Maybe there’s some rule that I don’t know about one-night stands, so this could be on me.”

You start to aimlessly tread back and forth in front of him, dragging the blanket along too. “But fuck, foreplay is foreplay for a reason. You work your way up to the heat of the moment and it makes sex much better, regardless if you’re in a relationship with the person or not.”

“Next point.” You stop walking and direct your focus on him. Pointing your finger and looking him dead in the eye, you ask, “Do you know what a vagina is?”

He snorts with a simper. “Uhhh, is this a rhetorical question?”

“No, I’m legit asking,” you say with a raised eyebrow and snarky smile. “Because when you went down on me, all you flicked your tongue at was the outside of it, also called the labia if you didn’t know.”

“I’m premed, of course I—”

“Which is great! But you didn’t go any deeper nor did you go near my clit.”

You thrust your finger again. “Do you also know what that is?”

“Yes...” he groans with the flickering eyelids.

You swipe your arm through the air. “Maybe make use of it, and not only when you go down on girls. Even during sex, touching it is great.”

“And lastly,” you continue. “I’ll be honest here, you have a decent dick.”

Jaemin waggles his finger. “So you were lying before—”

“I wasn’t lying,” you retort firmly. “But anyways, you’ve got the stuff, but why don’t you put it to better use?”

With the following words, you attempt to gesture with your body and execute moves as graphic visuals. Jaemin giggles at the sight.

“Vary the speeds and the angle, don’t just slam it in me and go crazy fast from the get-go. Build up to the climax. Jesus, I couldn’t even get close to coming because you’re like a jackhammer from start to finish.”

When you finally finish, Jaemin’s giggles morph into hollow laughs. Frustration is blatant on your face, pondering if he even absorbed a single word you said.  

After he calms down, he asks, “Are you done?”

You mumble, “Yeah, I think so.”

The two of you switch places. He shuffles onto his feet with his blanket while you sit back on the couch.

Jaemin pulls the blanket across the floor as he ambles. “Okay, your head game is decent—”

“Excuse you, my head game is strong.”

“Uh-uh, rebuttal,” he points out.  

You sigh. Pinching your fingers together, you drag the invisible zipper across your mouth, then wave your hand, allowing him to resume.

“Your head game is decent. You definitely can deepthroat, but—” He mirrors you from before and extends his index finger.

“One: this happened only a few times, but your teeth scraped against my dick, which is why I assumed you were a borderline virgin.”

You fume silently at the accusation, attempting to not speak up with a heap of rebuttals. But he wasn’t wrong—if you teethed on his dick, that’s a classic virgin move.

“But that’s okay, because we already established that you’re just rusty.” Jaemin flashes you a fake comforting smile as he continues to pace. You flash him one back.

“And two—” He holds another finger out. “Don’t be scared to use your hands and stroke me. Give my dick some love. If it’s too wet, just wipe your hands on the bed or something.”

“Okay, duly noted,” you hum. “Next.”

“Don’t be scared to touch me.”

“I touched you so much during—”

He shoots you a glare. You roll your mouth inward, your lips disappearing instantly.

“Your hands were mostly on the sheets, which is hot, but guys like to be felt up too.”

The attractive individual peers up for a second, thinking to himself. “Even hotter when a girl feels herself up during the fucking, but that’s beside the point. Baby steps, just remember to touch the other person.”

Jaemin does a full-stop and faces you.

“And just... don’t fake it.” Distress is evident in his pout. You hate to admit it, but it’s a little cute. He raises an arm and jerks it in the air. “Why do girls fake it?”

“Because guys with egos like you can’t handle criticism,” you reply bluntly.  

“What are we doing, having this conversation, hm?”

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if it didn’t snow in and keep us here together.” You peel a hand away and gesture to the window. “If I walked out of here this morning, you would’ve just fucked the next girl the same.”

He defends himself, “Faking it just feeds our egos.”

“Yeah, well, if I told you afterwards that I didn’t come, what would you do?”

“Try to make you come in other ways?”

Shaking your head, you scoff. “Guys like you aren’t that considerate.”

“You’re right.” He assents, holding his pointer finger against his chest. “Because guys like me aim to please.”

A brilliant thought leaps in his mind and Jaemin gasps. You can only assume bad things from the wicked smile he sends your way.  

“Why don’t we try it again?”

Perplexed, you squint at him.

“Try what again...?”

“Sex,” he says enthusiastically.

You blankly stare at him.

“You’ve gotta be joking,” you deadpan.

“I mean, there’s nothing else to do and it’ll keep us warm.” 

You continue to stare at him until you groan.

“Oh, my God...” Your blanket droops a bit off your shoulders as you drag your palms across your face. “I cannot believe I’m stuck in this snowstorm with you out of all people...”

Sitting next to you, Jaemin persistently reasons with you. “Think of it also as another learning experience for the future partners we’ll have.”

“Yeah, if we don’t die first!” you shriek.

“We’re not going to die,” Jaemin replies in a mocking tone and a dart of his tongue.  

Outside the window, the snow seems to have slowed down, but not by much.  

God, Jaemin better be fucking right because you want to live to see another day.  

“Fine,” you mutter and match his gaze. “But we have to be vocal throughout the whole thing. Say whatever’s on our mind.”

“Fine,” he agrees to your terms. He produces the same wicked smile again. “But can we film it then? So we can study it after?”

You fire him a death glare that melts his face off, even in the frigid atmosphere.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he says, waving his hand.

They say that jokes are half-meant true, but you think Jaemin fully meant it. Still in your blanket jackets, Jaemin snags your free hand and leads you to his room.

“You gotta give me credit for trying, though.”

“No.” You shake your head with an unwilling smile creeping on the edge of your lips. On second thought, maybe the joke was a little funny, but you still stand by your opinion that he’s the most annoying person in the world. “I don’t think I will.”

“Thank God Chenle has so many scented candles...”

On the edge of Jaemin’s bed, huddled by the blanket, you watch him light up several large jars, placing them on his nightstand and desk in hopes to brighten the room. It’s already late afternoon, but one could mistaken it for nighttime with the muddy sky due to the snow.

“Is Chenle your roommate?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin answers with a slight shiver, igniting the last candle near the bedside. He removed his blanket when he went to nab the matches and candles. “His girlfriend gets free ones from work, so she always gives him a shit ton, even though he never uses them.”

With a glowing hue against his face, he blows out the match. He makes his way to you, a cocky grin plastered on him, as he says, “Guess we’re making use of them now, though.”

Before you can even respond, Jaemin gets right down to business—sitting beside you on the mattress, he palms your face and drags you in for a kiss. You softly yelp, but immediately reciprocate.

The cover falls off your body as you reach to touch him, fingers drifting over his solid arms.

You don’t want to stroke his large ego, and maybe it’s because you haven’t had anyone else on you in a while, but Jaemin’s kisses are something else.

The cushiony pair of lips always executes enough pressure against your mouth, increasing and decreasing on command in perfect tandem and timing. His hands hover over your waist and the nape of your neck, fingers sinking into your hot skin.  

His mouth trails downward the side of your neck. You crane your head back, indulging in his caresses as soft moans trickle out.

He gently signals for you to recline back and lay onto the mattress, moving the sea of blankets aside. Inclined on his elbow, almost atop of you, his cool fingers glide under your top layers, his thumb stroking against your stomach.

Pulling away from your body, he tugs on the ends of your clothes. You rise from the bed to better the angle for him to discard of them.

The hairs on your skin are standing on end from the frigid air, but you’re too focused on Jaemin’s mouth migrating over your upper arm and your bra-covered chest to care. Without notice, he stuffs a cup of the bra to one side and takes your bosom into his mouth.

Air’s seized from your lungs and your core contracts from the pleasure. Your fingers tug on Jaemin’s luscious locks and his free hand squeezes your unoccupied breast.    

After a few twirls of his tongue and a gentle drawing of his teeth on the pointed tip, he mumbles hotly into your chest while he thumbs your other nipple, “Foreplay still non-existent?”

“It’s better, I guess,” you sigh with fluttering eyes. His chuckling reverberates against your cleavage, a sign of amusement from your obstinacy. A gasp pierces the room as Jaemin repeats his actions onto the other breast.

He aids you in taking off the rest of your clothes and, obviously aware of your goosebumps and shuddering, tells you to get underneath the blankets while he strips himself.

Under the toasty ocean of layers, despite how both of you are bare-boned and how easy it is to jump into the main act, Jaemin purposefully continues to prolong the foreplay. Side by side, your lips meld endlessly; your legs and hands are intertwined in an amorous pretzel.

Jaemin ensures he doesn’t leave any part of you untouched—the pads of fingers virtually graze over every inch of your body. Each grip and drag of his digits sends you in a frenzy. Your chest is pressed into him and your eyes are blinded with desire.

In the back of your mind, you think about how you were right about foreplay working up to the heat of the moment—literally, because you’re dripping, he’s hard, and you two have embraced so much that you don’t need the blankets anymore.  

On the other hand, you wonder if Jaemin was right about skipping foreplay, because with every whisper of each other’s name, the intimacy rises immensely. You don’t know him, and neither him with you, but you’re both freely drowning in one another in a plane beyond the lust.

Although the room’s beginning to smell of a mix of all the scented candles, Jaemin hones in and drinks in your sweet aroma and your entirety behind his hazy eyes and already tousled hair. All of a sudden, one drag of his fingers over a particular sensitive spot on your body makes you giggle.

“I’m ticklish over there.”

“You mean right—” He drums his fingers over the area again. “—here?”

With a toothy grin, he generates more suffering from you and you begin to lively howl. Soon enough, you beg him to stop.

“You’re such an asshat, c’mon, let me live!”

When he ceases, his head hangs over yours and your gazes connect.

The same feeling blooms in his chest from before in the living room.

He gulps as his eyes waver over your face, unknowingly tracing your beautiful features and etching them into his memory.

Your starry eyes. Your glowing aura. Your everything.

You barely register the change in his expression because he quickly tramples on his moment of weakness by kissing you passionately.

Jaemin whips the blankets aside as he lowers himself between your legs. Your eyes are fixated on him, matching his stare, until he starts to devour you by swiping against your lustrous folds. Your back bows, and, following a few more licks, Jaemin makes a point of his knowledge of the vagina by spreading your lips and ravishing your pussy, tongue penetrating deeply.

Rippled moans release in harmony with your undulating chest. You swear you’re getting more wet, too wet, likely making it overwhelming for Jaemin, but he’s eagerly lapping every drop up.  

“How’s that?” he inquires with a grin, hovering over your trembling nether lips. His mouth is evidently glossy, even under the dim lighting.

“Good,” you pant in the most nonchalant tone you can muster up. “Very good-ahhh—”

Jaemin kindly interrupts you by tonguing your clit as he fingers your sex deeply, shattering your fake indifference.

“Move your tongue up more,” you direct, creasing your eyebrows in despair. He follows your direction, and droning moans ensue.

Jaemin’s immersed in your pleasure, but also adding to his own. The more he laps up your wetness, the more he grinds his length against the bed, aching to be inside of you.

Your desire pulses faster, contracting tighter against his fingers, body winding tensely by the second.

“Fuck, Jaemin,” you whine, leaning your head to one side with a parted mouth. “I’m close.”

He draws back and temporarily replaces his tongue with his thumb.

“Good,” he pants, cocking his head to one side. His eyes are filled with determination. “Because I’m not stopping until you come at least two more times tonight.”

You exhale a light laugh. “That’s ambiti-ohgodohgod—”

His tongue works wonders on your clit once more, so much that he has to brace your bucking hips.

Okay, maybe Jaemin did learn a thing or two and actually listened to what you said during your critique.

But now it’s time to demonstrate to him what you’ve learned.

You don’t need much of a break to catch your breath, nor do you want to immediately freeze due to inactivity, so you pull Jaemin in for an intense kiss, tongue dipping into the remnants of your own nectar, then beckon for him to take your former place on the bed.

Perched on the bottom of your feet, you’re on one side of Jaemin, lackadaisically fisting his prominence. After a few strokes, you gradually swallow his inches, keeping in mind to relax your jaw and to not rush in order to avoid any potential teething. You do this to prove yourself worthy of giving head, but also in spite, because you absolutely do not need Jaemin to brand you a virgin again.  

You read his quiet groans and his long fingers running lazily through your hair as a positive sign and advance further.

Carefully, you rest your tongue beneath the underside of his cock and bob your head, licking him until he’s sopping with your saliva. His grip in your hair grows in strength as his length reaches the end of your throat, his groans becoming more and more drawn-out.

A needy whimper leaves him as you suddenly withdraw. Dribbles of your spit follow, and you wipe it off with the back of your hand.  

“How am I doing?” you glow in a pant, lazily stroking the doused shaft.

He simply nods with half-lidded eyes, barely able to look at you. “Yeah.”

You snicker at him in his breathless position, a prickle of pride running through your spine over the fact that you blew his mind as much as you blew his dick.

“Use your words, Jaemin.”

Teasingly, your fingers curl around his blunt head, soothing the sensitive tip and sending jolts throughout him.

“Fuck—” he pulls his bottom lip upward. “Awesome. You’re doing awesome.”

“Anything to critique?”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head restlessly. You revel a bit more in having the upper hand on him a little while longer. You grip him tighter and hasten your speed, leaving him gasping for air.

“Am I still rusty?”

“Nope, nope,” he croaks, voice rising to a whine. “Definitely not rusty.”

“You sure?” His cockiness has transferred over to you.

“Yes, yes—fuck, slow down, please,” Jaemin begs.    

Granting his wish, you abate your rhythm and free his inches from your touch.

You wipe your hands on the sides of the bed while Jaemin rummages through the drawer of his nightstand and hastily rolls over the rubber over himself before he prepares to enter the body beneath his.  

Recalling your advice, Jaemin mindfully starts off slow. You sigh blissfully in sync to his thrusts. He adjust himself, attempting another angle, and you draw in air between your teeth.

“There, there—“

Jaemin’s quick-witted and keeps at it, plunging a bit more vigorously. Out of habit, your hands grasp onto the bedsheets, but you wittingly attach them to his frame. Hands grazing his neck, his firm pecs, and his taut muscles.  

“Touch-touch my stomach,” he orders in a hush.

You hands follow through and feel up the flexed valley of his abs. Feeling up evolves into desperate gripping and even the slight dragging of your nails.

“Your abs are so fucking hot,” you state thoughtlessly, eyes eating up the view alongside his cock disappearing in and out of you. “Jesus, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he rasps with that devilish smirk of his. God, you want to smack it off him, but not right now—not when you’re reaching euphoria. “You’re not just saying that?”

Oh, you’ve definitely stroked his ego now, but there’s no turning back. Truth spills from you on a whim.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece,” you gasp acutely.

You’re starting to wither away, yet, as if they have a life of their own, your hands drift away from him and find a new home atop your breasts.

“You make me feel so good, Jaemin...”

Jaemin’s eyes go wide. His mouth hangs at the lewdness of you touching yourself.

“Fuck, holy shit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave your ecstatic face or humming body for a second as you knead your breasts and tweak your nipples between your fingers. Your back arches further when Jaemin deepens his sweet, fulfilling thrusts. He’s holding himself back, not wanting to end this beautiful deed just yet.

The stimulation bursts over your body, both from your own doing and Jaemin’s.  

You plead, “Faster, please, faster.”

And he complies, but he also rubs your bundle of nerves, causing a tight knot in you to build up and your shallow moans transform into heavy screams. You clasp onto his back and claw at the protruding shoulder blades.  

“I’m-I’m—”

You clench, both with your core and your nails digging into him, but Jaemin’s unrelenting, capturing your second peak for the evening.

Instead of coming after you, he shockingly veers lower and closer to you and curbs his pace.

“Was that real?”

You respond with an exhausted nod. Oddly, the smile he shows this time isn’t arrogant, but warm and teetering the line of tenderness. His lips fuse with yours before they stray towards your neck. The passion stews as he sucks your tits, all the while lunging laxly into you.  

With an obscene pop!, Jaemin removes himself from your nubs.

“Ready for the last round?”

His fast thrusts, hitting you precisely in the best spot, cloud your already weakened logic, deterring you from making any response.    

Perspiration is blatant on both individuals. For him, his forehead glistens gorgeously with his damp hair. For you, the back of your bent knees are gluing together. Your bodies are about to pass out, but you both persevere until the end.

As you convulse and perish together in beautiful agony, coincidentally enough, the bulbs in the room and in the streets leap to radiance.

Together, you collapse onto the bed side by side, panting heavily and laughing.

“Told you we weren’t going to die.”

You turn your head to see Jaemin looking at you with a cheeky grin. In retaliation, you stick your tongue out.

By nighttime, it’s finally stopped snowing outside. However, the streets won’t be cleared until morning, at the very least.

But... you’re surprisingly okay with that.

In a turn of events, the sex inexplicably makes the two of you warm up to each other. There still is targeted banter and tension between you, lingering from before, but it’s less hostile and more playful.

During a fancy Christmas Eve dinner of microwavable pizzas, you poke fun at each other’s majors and discuss your respective hobbies in depth, especially his love for photography. Jaemin even asks if he can take a picture of you, claiming that the kitchen lighting actually looks nice on someone for once.  

“Is that how you collect the memory of your one-night stands? Instead of hanging their skins in your closet, you sweet-talk your way and keep all the photos of them?” you joke, referring to the video call from yesterday night. It feels like an eternity ago, but snowstorms tend to do that.

He chuckles behind the camera as he snaps a photo of you scrunching your face cutely.

“Yeah, but you’re the first one who has clothes on,” he says, glancing down at the photo on the camera roll.  

“Ugh, gross,” you cringe and take a sip of tea.

Jaemin doesn’t add anything further. He leaves out the fact that he never keeps any traces of his one-night stands, that you’re the first girl he’s taken a picture of in a while.  

After a few hours of more talking and even some gaming with one another, sleep is much needed. Jaemin offers an extra toothbrush and a sweater and pair of sweats to sleep in. You’re facing each other on his bed, noses almost touching.  

“It’s been a while since I haven’t had sex with a girl before I slept next to them,” he whispers, adjusting himself comfortably. The side of his face rests on his piled hands. “It’s kinda nice.”

You cover your mouth as you yawn, then lay your hand back under your head, reflecting the same position as Jaemin.

“You know, it might be my sleepiness talking, but maybe you’re not the worst person in the world to be stuck with during a snowstorm.”

A lovely chuckle echoes in your ear. “I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart.”

After a few moments, your eyes are fluttering to a close until he softly calls out your name.

“Hm?” you stir awake, but not by much.

“Do you...?”

Jaemin doesn’t know what’s gotten to him, doesn’t quite understand why the defences he built for so long are crumbling down in only a day of knowing you.  

And yet, something urges him to give it a chance.

Blowing out a shaky sigh, he anxiously intertwines his fingers with yours. You hum softly at the action and a small smile blooms on your face.

“Do you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Hm?” His question doesn’t take you aback as much as you would be if you were fully awake. But even in your drowsy state, you have quips in hand. “Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, wants to go on a date?”

“Yeah,” he replies gently, brushing your loose hair out of your face.

Another yawn. “I thought you said you don’t want feelings and relationships and all that shit.”

His fingers trace your pretty jawline and shrugs. “One date doesn’t mean we’re going to be in a relationship, I’m sure you know that.”

You pause for a good two seconds, but the two seconds feel like forever for Jaemin.

“Mmm, fine. One date, just one.” You barely hold up your pointer finger. “And only because it’s Christmas tomorrow. ‘Tis the season to be giving...”

Relief washes over Jaemin in the form of a smile. Embracing the blatant feeling in his chest this time, he plants a light kiss on your nose and wishes you sweet dreams, even though you’ve already fallen soundly asleep.  

Sunlight pours over your eyes on Christmas morning.

Déjà vu peculiarly creeps up on you, but the only thing that’s the same as yesterday is waking up in Jaemin’s bed.

He’s next to you this time, deep in his peaceful slumber, instead of waiting for you to leave by his doorframe. The snow has finally stopped, and you think you hear the faint noises of snow plows outside. You inhale deeply and also notice the faded aroma from all the scented candles from last night.

The scenes of yesterday flicker across your mind. The incredible sex. The talking. The dinner. The interlocking of his fingers with yours.

The date he asked you out on.

You stare at him, watching him sleep with a sense of content.

Turning your body, you routinely check your phone, which is charging beside his. You have a slew of Merry Christmas texts from several chats and a few private messages from your friends.

Your attention falls on Jaemin’s phone when it lights up with a notification, likely texts from his friends and family too.

But that’s not what you’re focusing on.

Your heart sinks at the sight of his lockscreen.

It’s a picture of him and a girl kissing.

A twinge emerges in your chest and twists harder and harder.

Jaemin being a fuckboy, you can respect. People can do whatever they want with their lives.

But to cheat?

That’s unforgivable, and a true sin if there ever was one.

You scramble to dash out of there, careful not to make any noises in fear of waking Jaemin up. However, Jaemin’s sensitive to the sounds of the front door, so he rouses awake. His eyes flit open, noticing how you’re gone. He then sees his phone blowing up and adds two and two together.

With his phone in hand, Jaemin rushes to get on a coat and stuffs his feet into his boots, not giving a shit that he’s wearing his thin pajamas in the coldness. He’s bounding down the flight of stairs and onto the bright, white wonderland of the streets.

He swivels his head and catches sight of you almost past down the block, slowly trekking through the thick snow. Jaemin sprints, as much as he can, and hops towards you.  

He yells your name, making others on the street turn, but you don’t. You continue forward without looking back.

“Wait! I can explain!”

You’re trying to gain speed, but cardio isn’t your friend. Thankfully for Jaemin, it’s a close friend for him.

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it, Jaemin,” you grunt, hearing the rapid crunching of his shoes coming closer. “Get lost.”

“No, listen to me for a second.”

The boyish man grasps you by the arm and turns you around. You throw his arm away from you and he holds his hands in the air, letting you know that he respects your space. He drops his hands and sees that you’re seething, even worse than you were when he kicked you out yesterday.

“How are you going to explain your lockscreen with you kissing your fucking girlfriend?! Hm?”

“Ex,” he pants in clarification. “Ex-girlfriend.”

Your eyebrows mesh together in utter confusion.

“Okay? That doesn’t make me feel any better, knowing that you’re still hung up on your ex.”

Jaemin shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair. You note the large clouds he exhales and how he’s barely wearing any clothes. A tinge of sympathy passes through you, wanting to give him some of your clothes for extra layers, but you smother that quickly in your state of rage.  

“I’m not hung up on her. Remember you asked me yesterday why I don’t want girls to stay the next morning?”

You cock your head impatiently, as if saying, “Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t want to attach myself to girls. I can’t. I...”

He lowers his head to one side. Shutting his eyes, a long puff emits from his mouth.

“She cheated on me.”

The snow plows in the distance can’t compare to the pumping of your heart in your ears. All the feelings you felt in the last day, but especially in the last fifteen minutes, jumble together in your head, making you feel uneasy and unsure of what to exactly feel or comprehend of the situation.  

But you do know one thing, despite the fact that you two barely know each other, the pained look on his face is real—that this is the untold story behind his ways.  

Jaemin lifts his head and holds out his phone for emphasis. “The lockscreen serves as a constant reminder that dating and feelings will and can fuck me up.”

Carefully, he steps a little closer to you and slowly cups your face in his shaking hands. You don’t pull away nor is there the same anger from moments before, so he daintily runs his thumbs over your cheeks.

“Until you showed me yesterday that maybe I’m willing to give it all another shot. Risk it all for fuck knows what, but you make it look like it’s worth it.”

He continues his ramble after adjusting some of your hair from the ongoing breeze.

“Sure, it’s Christmas today, but I don’t want you to say yes to going on a date with me just because it is. I want you to say yes because maybe you like spending time with me just as much as I like to spend it with you.”

You’re completely disoriented—your eyes are shifting everywhere but his eyes and your lips are quivering with no words coming out. He sighs understandingly. 

“Look, I know you’re probably having second thoughts and you don’t have to give me an answer right now. Think on it for as much time as you need, but I want you to know that I genuinely like you and I want to go on an actual date with you.”

He peels his hand away from your face and raises it into the air as if taking an oath.

“I, Na Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, will devote to monogamy once again if it means I can date you.”

His hands grab yours, kisses the back of them, and then he presses one kiss onto your icy cheek prior to walking away.

“Merry Christmas,” he says with a sad smile. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

Later that evening at your large family’s Christmas party, you take another dreadful gulp of your wine.

It’s the happy holiday season, but why does everyone feel the need to stick their nose in your dating life? Well, really, a lack there of.

“Why are you still single?” Layers of their voices resound the same question in your head. You take another swig.

Potential unsaid answers that you kept to yourself fly around as you swish the drink in your glass.  

Because you choose to be.

Okay, not really, but it’s the easiest answer.  

Because you haven’t found the right guy to get you back in the game.

What does that even mean? What makes the right guy even right?

The right guy? It’s someone who makes you laugh, someone who gives as good as they can take it, someone who wants you just as much as you do.

The cogs move in your head as you take one more sip before you finally come to the conclusion—  

Because you didn’t find the right guy until last night.

Despite the mess of today and yesterday morning, you realize that Jaemin is... actually sort of sweet. Annoying, yes, but he keeps you on your toes. It’s a plus that he’s easy on the eyes, but it’s a bigger plus that he’s even easier to talk to.

And if he can find it in his scorched heart to trust you, you can find it in your heart to trust him too.  

You quickly say your good-byes to your family and let them know you have other plans with friends tonight.

As the Uber rolls up to his apartment building, you realize you probably should’ve messaged him on Tinder, but it’s worth a shot to see if he’s home. Anyways, impulsiveness is a controlling entity, as evident from your Christmas Eve Eve’s adventure.

And in retrospect, perhaps Jaemin was the perfect pick of the crop after all.  

Someone’s entering the building and lets you in behind them. You take the stairs two at a time and hear booming music coming from his floor. At first, you assume it’s from other apartments, but it’s all coming from one—his.

Without a thought, your knuckle taps the door.  

A handsome figure that’s definitely not Jaemin opens the door. Behind him, you see a group of young men scattered around the living room, and some have a few girls tucked under their arms.

The man eyes you up and down with a spark in his eye. He’s not Jaemin, but he surely reminds you of him.

“And who might you be?” he asks.

“Who’s at the door, Jeno?” An unknown male voice hollers in a high pitch from the couch. He’s one of the guys with a girl attached to him.

You blink. “Uhm, I’m—”

“She’s with me!” Jaemin shoves the flirty stranger aside and tugs you by your wrist, making headway to his bedroom. He flips the light switch on and the door clicks shut.

“What are you doing h—”

You cut him off with a kiss.

An innocent one, at first, with hints of alcohol on each other’s lips. Your arms wrap around the other and the passion increases with the mingling of your tongues, each party tasting and confirming the specific drinks you both consumed tonight.  

Jaemin forces himself to pull away and presses his forehead against yours. “Did you just come all the way here to kiss me, or...?”

“Maybe I came over to ask... if I can stay with you for another night?” you playfully ask, fingers intertwining behind the nape of his neck.  

He chuckles heartily. His fingers sink into the sides of your waist. “Is my dick that great? The sex with me that amazing?”

“Mmm, that’s definitely a benefit,” you agree, fluttering your nose against his. “But I want more than that—“ You poke a finger to his chest. “—I want the man behind the dick.”

Your gazes converge, bringing you together as one.

“I want to go on that date with you. I want you, Jaemin.”

He flashes a megawatt smile that could compete with a million Christmas lights, but it fades suddenly and you’re unsure why he seems like he’s about to bawl his eyes out.

“That’s so beautiful, I might cry.” He brings a finger to his eye, pretending to shed a tear.

Oh, yeah—you’re definitely going to need to hire someone to constantly shove your eyeballs back into your sockets if you’re going to date Jaemin.

“Oh, shut up,” you whisper, yanking him in for another kiss.

Three dates later, including a memorable New Year’s Eve, you finally decide to rid of the Tinder app for good.

With his arm around you on his living room couch, Jaemin glances over your shoulder.

“Really? You’re finally deleting your Tinder?”

You snort in disbelief. “That’s gold, coming from the King of Tinder himself. When did you delete?”

He turns to face the television and shrugs coolly.

“Maybe I didn’t.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” you nod, eyes still on your phone.

“Nah, I’m kidding, I did.”    

You sharply turn your head.

“No way. When?” you press with narrow eyes.  

A shy smile emerges on Jaemin’s face as he picks his pants over his thighs.

“On the night of Christmas Eve, after you agreed to go on a date with me.”

[hoe-doroki]

steel and lace

minors do not interact

warnings: 18+, anal play, sex toys, voyeuristic fantasy, scratching, creampie

pairing: bakugou x fem!reader

wc: 3.8k

summary: The only one who manages to get Bakugou’s birthday right is you.

a/n: This is my addition to the Bakugou Birthday Bash collab (masterlist). Many thanks to @lady-bakuhoe​ for helping me flesh out the ideas with this story!! You were integral to this idea, love! And additional thanks to @whats-her-quirk​ and @therealvalkyrie​ for beta reading <333

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

Bakugou never took work off on his birthday.

Never. Why would he? Villains didn’t give a shit that this was the day the old hag had unceremoniously had him evacuated into a hospital room however many years ago. They didn’t give a shit that his friends—who were also heroes who should be fucking working, by the way—wanna come over to his house and surprise him. As though his reconnaissance-trained ears weren’t as fucking fine tuned at hearing idiots on the other side of the door as theirs.

What villains should care about was that he was a year older, wiser, and fucking stronger, and he was going to kick all their asses. That was what he told all his idiot friends every year when they asked him if he was going to take off work.

Every year he regretted it.

The idiots he works with really must not care about hero work, because every year they want to send him out on a field post sugar crash from some store-bought cake with his name on it. Or buy him gifts that he’ll probably toss in the trash on the way home. He’s not being rude; he just doesn’t need junk that he never would have bought himself in the first place.

Everyone is always grinning at him, wishing him a happy birthday—as though he’s any goddamn happier to see their ugly mugs flapping their lips at him—and trying to start stupid-ass conversations. If he doesn’t like small talk normally, why would he want it on his birthday?

And the singing.

If people really wanted to wish him a happy birthday, they’d find a way to do it silently while doing some respectable fucking hero work. Make his day easier.

But no, none of that was what happened. So he should have just stayed home. Let the villains have a fucking field day on April 20th, and he could have his real gift killing them all tomorrow on the 21st.

But, unfortunately, he was a dumbass and had gone to work anyway, like he’d learned nothing from the last many years of antics. And the continued antics had got him a little pissy. And when he was pissed off, his heart rate increased, his breathing grew heavier, and, of course, he sweat.

Well. Guess what happened?

“Bakugou, I am currently paying to treat burns and fractures on three villains. Care to explain?”

Best Jeanist was sitting in his office chair, blinding sunlight streaming in behind him. Late afternoon sun—darker in color but way more resentful towards human eyes, apparently. It was reflecting off of all of the neighboring glass corporate buildings, making Bakugou squint behind his mask.

Bakugou shrugged, petulant as he stood behind his chair instead of sitting in it. “Overkill.”

Best Jeanist nodded. “Did you…lose control?”

“Tch,” Bakugou scoffed. As if he ever lost control. “Villains were weaker than I thought.”

Bakugou felt the stare of that one fucking eye and stood firm. He knew he was looking at a suspension, hopefully just for a day or two. It wasn’t like he’d done anything terrible. Villains got hurt sometimes, just like pros did, and they got their care and then they got their justice. It’s not like Bakugou was violent on purpose. Anymore. And Jeanist sure as hell knew that, so it wouldn’t take Bakugou off the field for more than a slap on the wrist. He probably wouldn’t even be technically suspended. Just chained by the fucking dick to his desk with some paperwork.

“Just…” Bakugou braced for it, narrowing his eyes but keeping his snarl to a minimum. “Just be more careful next time. Shower and go home—see you tomorrow.”

Bakugou’s jaw dropped. He closed it quickly, trying not to look like Dunce Face in front of his boss, but in all that was real and true what? He was just about to say something—he didn’t know what, probably something insubordinate—when Best Jeanist took out his own paperwork and waved him away.

“Happy birthday, Bakugou.”

Oh. So that was it.

Bakugou grit his teeth. Happy fucking birthday indeed.

It was nothing. His brain told him over and over again that it was fucking nothing. He hadn’t been punished, he hadn’t even really done anything wrong; he just hadn’t been squeaky clean up to fucking code. He could still show up for work tomorrow, business as usual. He should be tickled fucking pink.

But he wasn’t. Special treatment for being the birthday boy? What was he? Five years old and given a pass after stealing the chicken nuggets off Deku’s plate? Jesus Christ.

And if he was honest, he was mostly pissed at himself. Sure, he could blame how the weather always seemed to sprint from spring to summer around his birthday every year, strengthening his quirk. He could blame the villains for being weak enough that they had no business even stepping foot in his neighborhood. But losing control of his quirk even a little—and it had been a little—was fucking amateur and he’d have to pencil in some extra time at the gym. Maybe snatch Shitty Hair for some sparring, and, unfortunately, probably nab an extra therapy session and talk about this anger thing again.

At least walking instead of sitting on that stifling, crowded train car was doing him some good. Let him cool off a bit before he got home and you saw that something was wrong. He was nearly entirely relaxed by the time he got to his building’s lobby, even having the grace to nod at the concierge—who didn’t know it was his birthday, thank God—before heading up the elevator.

When he got off on his floor, it suddenly occurred to him that you might have done something truly repulsive, like inviting his friends over. He could imagine Shitty Hair’s shitty fucking hair sticking up from behind your sofa as he tried to hide before leaping up and yelling surprise.

Well, if that was the case, then the surprise was going to be him kicking all his dumb friends out of the apartment with one foot. Ain’t no way he was going to host a party on his birthday.

It turned out his worry was for nothing, though, because when he turned the knob—fully braced to punch out some teeth with his other hand—he was greeted with a totally bare apartment.

Like barren.

For starters, it was perfectly clean. Bakugou kept a tidy house normally, but this was certainly cleaner than he’d left it this morning. But more than that, there was nothing extra lying around. No stupid friends. No presents. No cake or even the smell of one. It was almost disconcerting.

No, it was a relief. A relief because he didn’t want any of that stuff. He’d had the slice of cake at work—and was slightly hangry now to show for it—and wasn’t interested in having another. And even though you’d choose better gifts than the extras at work would, it was nothing he couldn’t buy himself. So no, this was perfect. He was absolutely not disappointed. Maybe a bit confused. But not disappointed.

He took his shoes off and set his things on the small table by the door. Then he wandered into the kitchen, downed some water, and thought about what he might make for dinner. He might have expected that you and he would make dinner together or maybe even that you would have surprised him with something, but he didn’t mind doing it alone. It wasn’t like he’d learned to cook just to find a housewife someday to con into doing it all for him.

He decided to go to the bedroom first to plug in his phone. He was just sliding it out of his pocket when he opened the door, saw you, and stopped short.

You were on the bed—not in bed, but on it—wearing a black zip up with his signature orange x over the chest. You were on your knees with your legs spread wide, looking him dead in the eye with a deadly smirk on your face, painted in bright lipstick.

“New prototype. You like?”

The two of you had met when you were scouted from his parents’ business to design the clothing for his first merchandise line. He’d sworn off dating you from the beginning, because the last thing he wanted was to give the old hag anything to say about, firstly, her being at all responsible for finding  him a girlfriend or secondly, the fact that dating a fashion designer would mean he was dating his parents. He’d said fuck that to anyone who would listen.

But you’d gotten his brain from the beginning. Your designs were all sick from the sketch to mock up to the prototypes you always wore for him. Maybe he was a simple man for falling for a girl dressed in his colors, aiming to please him, but fuck it. You were talented, too smart for your own good, and pretty as hell.

So what? Now he had a dream girlfriend and one more reason to fight with his mom. Net positive for sure.

Still, that jacket wasn’t a prototype. That was from his first official line, no doubt, and he’d seen you wear it hundreds of times. He knew from here how much it would smell like detergent and how much like you.

You caught his eyes, raised your brows once, and then pulled the zip on the sweatshirt.

Underneath was nothing but lace and ribbon, contrasting the black and orange of the sweatshirt with moss green outlining your silhouette. The moss green from his gauntlets and his belt was caged around you in the thinnest strips of fabric, scraps of floral barely covering your breasts and pussy. The lingerie was an all-in-one, with the tiny bra connected to the panties by a few ribbons crossing over your belly. Not hiding a damn thing, but showing it off for all its worth.

“Fuck,” Bakugou groaned when the sweatshirt hit the bed, your arms still in the sleeves, but the look underneath now fully revealed to him. He could feel the blood going to his dick, just seeing you on display like that getting him up to half mast in seconds.

“Not a lot of coverage on this version,” you mused, sticking your thumb under a bra strap. “Maybe an edit for the second try?”

Bakugou growled, taking a step forward, but you weren’t done just yet.

“I was also thinking maybe full panties next time,” you said, turning around, sitting on your heels. The sweatshirt hung just below your ass, framing round cheeks that were caged by thin elastic crosses, and that was it. Not so much as a triangle of fabric to speak of. “Maybe write: Property of Dynamight on them? Or is that too much text?”

That was all it took for Bakugou to pounce. One arc of his fist had his shirt thrown with a smack to the floor and then his hands were on your shoulders, spinning you face up as he pushed you flat on the bed.

“You know I don’t like unnecessary words,” he growled.

And then he was kissing you, a hand running up the falke stockings pinned on your thighs as you pulled your arms out of the sweatshirt. One leg came up automatically to wrap around his hip, and Bakugou began rutting against your center, fully hard already. On his second grinding thrust, his pants snagged on the scrap of lace you were wearing. Wetness was already glistening on his trousers and he moved his thumb down to your core, groaning at what he felt.

“Crotchless panties?” he mumbled against your mouth. “You’re making this too easy, sweetheart.”

“Shouldn’t have to work so hard on your birthday,” you mewled.

There was a rumble in Bakugou’s throat, half scoff, half chuckle. “Yeah, remind me of that next year, will you?”

You were soaked already—the swipe of his thumb told you that much. Either you’d gotten really excited when he’d texted you that he was coming home early, or you’d…gotten yourself excited at some point after. Either way, it meant that foreplay could wait for round two.

He pulled his thumb away from your core and pressed it against your lip, smudging what lipstick had survived the kisses down your chin. You were half ruined already. You stuck your tongue out and licked at essence on his thumb before sucking it into your mouth, eyes wide as you looked up at him. Fuck, he could feel himself straining against his pants, grinding circles against your half-bare cunt for a spot of relief.

After you licked him clean, he took his hand back, leaving your mouth open and wanting as he began to fuss with the front of his pants. He caught your smudged lips again, holding your jaw with one hand as he pushed his pants down with the other. He pulled his lower half away from you, kicking off the pants—hadn’t bothered with boxers for the commute home—and let them slide off the edge of the bed.

“Ready?” he asked.

Your smile was big and you bit the tip of your tongue, nodding your head twice. That was all he needed. He grabbed his cock in his fist and slid it through your wetness just once, and then he pushed himself in.

Immediately, he felt the drag of something hard and angled against your lower wall right along his cock, pressing from tip to base as he slid home inside of you.

“Woah,” he groaned. “What the fuck?”

You giggled, the action making your walls flutter against him.

“Got myself a new toy,” you said coyly, wrapping your legs around his hips. “Promise you can get yourself something pretty on my birthday too.”

Bakugou reach a hand around your thigh, feeling the elastic garter pulled taut against the stockings that were rubbing so deliciously against his back and his hips. He grabbed a handful of your ass, and the tips of his fingers felt a rounded edge of warm metal slid just between your ass cheeks.

“You fucking naughty minx.” Bakugou grinned, showing all his teeth, rearing back out of you before thrusting back in, feeling the novel pressure of the toy on the way out and back.

No wonder you had been so wet to begin with. You must have lubed yourself up before putting in that butt plug—which wasn’t small, from what he could feel of it. He could imagine you, one leg up on the sink, ass sticking out as you fingered yourself, mouth dropping open when you inserted the toy. How cold it would have been when it first touched your pert little hole and how you’d gotten it all warm for him as you waited with your little secret for him to get home.

“It’s curved to hit prostates,” you gasped as Bakugou rocked hard, steady thrusts into you. “In case you’re interested.”

The thought, much to Bakugou’s surprise, sent a thrill right through his belly down to his dick. He couldn’t help but slam rapidly into you, making your eyes roll back. Fuck, was that something he wanted? It wasn’t something he’d ever thought about, and he didn’t have the mind right now to ponder it.

“God you feel so big.”

“You feel so tight, sweetheart,” Bakugou grunted, refusing to acknowledge the fresh heat that was on his cheeks after your previous comment. “Squeezing me from all sides.”

The butt plug left it so there was barely enough room in your pussy for his cock to pump in and out. The pressure was hard on one side, making him fucking twitch every time the head of his cock caught against it, leading him to opt for long, deep thrusts in and out of you. It was so good that he didn’t even care if the only present he got for his birthday was a little hunk of stainless steel halfway up your ass. He’d gotten home five minutes ago and already he could feel his balls tightening, threatening to bust a nut.

“Just think of it, Katsuki,” you said, your voice dreamy as he fucked you raw. “All the women wearing this set, thinking of you when they show it off for their partners. All wishing that you were the one fucking them. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? But they’ll never have anything but their husband’s sad cock that they pretend is yours.”

“Fuck,” Bakugou growled, putting a hand on the headboard and nearly splintering it in his grip. You were riling him up and it made him want to press his palm flat against the burnished oak and let off his quirk, send shards flying. His hand was already drenched with more sweat than it should have been, just like with those villains earlier. Goddamn this time of year. He couldn’t help it; his quirk begged for it. He was in dire need of release of some kind, and it wasn’t like he could cum yet. He had to know how your pussy felt when it convulsed around him, ass cheeks tensing and squeezing that toy hard against his cock until he was spurting into you.

Bakugou let off a few crackling pops from his palm, moaning as relief filled him, the tension lessened for a moment. A faint smell of wood smoke spread through the room, slightly embittered by the resin blackening around his hand. One more scorch mark on the bed frame. You groaned underneath him, taken by the sight of Bakugou’s ever-tight control slipping for you. You knew he’d fuck you through the bed until the rest of the frame gave way if he wanted. You’d both be flat on a busted mattress and he’d keep going until he felt you clench around him.

“How’s that sound, Katsu?” you continued, your voice growing higher as Bakugou took his hand off the headboard and pressed four fingers, still sweaty and heated from his quirk, against the lace covering your clit. It was soaked through. “A-Ah, you’d like the idea of a woman home alone, dressed up just for you, fucking herself on the dildo she hides in the back of your closet, screaming out your name and hoping to God that her neighbors don’t hear?”

Bakugou couldn’t do the long, slow thrusts anymore. Your legs had grown tighter around his waist, your calves soft and silken against his ass as he kept his thrusts deep. The butt plug was rubbing against the base of his cock as he pounded into you, his fingers swiping over your clit with little finesse, but speed and steady pressure making up for it.

“But no matter…” you continued, the words coming out in little huffs as you panted with your head thrown back. Bakugou couldn’t resist leaning down and licking a line up the length of your neck, biting your earlobe when he got to the top, “no dildo, no matter how expensive, no matter how long and fat, will be good enough. The whole time…they’ll know they’re missing out. Oh, fuck.”

All of a sudden, your thighs were squeezing tight against his hip bones, arms thrown over his back and finger scratching hot lines that would mark him even more as yours tomorrow. Then you were gasping, walls squeezing and Bakugou fought against your grip to pull out just enough so that the metal toy was rubbing just over the cleft of his head with every convulsion.

He didn’t stand a chance. There was hardly any warning before he was cumming into you, streaks of his seed dribbling out of you. He couldn’t even pump himself through it; you were gripping him so tightly and, more than that, he didn’t want to move. Everything was white hot, so he just waited it out, barely moving save for where his hand was still rubbing over your clit.

Eventually you stopped him, grabbing his wrist just as the grip of your cunt loosened around him. Then you brought his hand, glistening with moisture, up to your mouth, and broadly laved your tongue from the base of his fingers to the tips, looking him dead in the eye. You then brought his hand down to your neck, and allowed him to streak the combined fluids across and down your décolletage.

Fuck—there was no way he was going to work on his birthday next year. He’d let villains overtake the city first.

“They’ll know they’re missing out,” you breathed, and it took Bakugou a second to figure out that you were continuing your voyeuristic fantasy from before, playing it out to the end, “They might even think they understand. But the only one who will truly know, is me.”

You smiled, your eyes and grin both heavy, sleepy, sated.

“Got that fucking right,” Bakugou said, pulling out of you, his cum already dripping down your ass. He eyed it, only catching a glimpse of the glinting metal plug before your legs fell to the bed, spread and limp. He smacked your hip lightly with one hand. “Roll over.”

In no mood to argue, you flipped willingly, ass up, plug still hidden from view. The lingerie was damp in some spots from where your wetness had spilled from your pussy. He leaned his mouth towards one of the strips of elastic stretching against the swell of your ass and bit. You gasped, back arching, and Katsuki smirked as he pulled away.

“A fucking lingerie line?”

A chuckle escaped your throat. “It was supposed to be a joke, but now…”

Katsuki pinched the elastic with his fingers and snapped it, watching the slight jiggle of your cheeks as you jolted. “No.”

“But Katsuki,” you whined.

“Mm,” he amended, as close to ‘maybe’ as you were going to get. You both could always talk about the idea—truly ridiculous idea—later. Katsuki put a hand on one cheek under the strips of lingerie and spread it.

There was the plug, a stainless steel handle. It was thin and shaped like an oblong donut, not like one of those cheap bejeweled things. This one, even just what he could see of it, screamed quality, and, for a moment, Bakugou wondered again what it would be like to wear. If you’d gotten it in, he sure as fuck could. And he did hold a certain anatomical advantage in using it.

He put his thumb and forefinger to the phalange and gave the toy a twist, pressing it just slightly deeper into your hole. You groaned, your voice low and deep in the pillow like when he gave you a back massage. He smirked and kept at it. Seemed this was a birthday gift for him after all.

“Katsu, don’t tease,” you moaned. “Sensitive.”

Bakugou, however, had no mercy. He flipped you over again, pulling a little yelp from you, and then picked you up bridal style, carrying you off the bed.

“Where are we going?” you asked, your voice suddenly much more awake.

“Shower,” he answered simply. He squeezed the meat of your upper thigh. Not quite your ass but close enough for the point to be made. “I’m not done with my present yet.”

[sammygvfslut]

i like you a latte | s. kiszka

Summary: Words cannot espresso how much you mean to Sammy Kiszka.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Hey besties!!! this is my first ever sam fic, and i really hope you guys enjoy it! it’s super cheesy so beware of some tooth-rotting fluff ahead. any and all feedback is appreciated <3

Loud chattering and the sounds of espresso machines hissing and whistling filled the cafe. Every few seconds or so when a new customer walked in, a soft ringing above the door rang. Glancing at the clock, you sighed as it read 7am. Way too early for your liking. You wished to be back in bed under the covers with your cat Joey snuggling. Plus, the cold weather made it even harder for you to get out of bed every morning. Damn you, winter.

“Good morning.” A voice said suddenly, startling you as you slightly jumped. “Whoops, didn’t mean to scare you there for a sec.”

Turning around at the voice, your heart fluttered and a smile pulled at the corners of your lips. “G-Good morning, Sam! Nope, didn’t scare me at all. I was just uh...focusing very hard and you caught me off guard.”

A chuckle rumbled from his chest, his own lips curving and flashing that beautiful grin. God, he made you melt. You took a quick chance to admire his appearance for the day, luscious brown locks pulled back into a low bun with a few stray pieces framing his face, and he wore a slightly oversized brown grandpa looking sweater. He exuded true fall energy today and all you wanted to do was snuggle with him watching a movie while sipping on hot chocolate. “Right. Focusing on what exactly? Staring at the register?”  

“S-Sure. Yes, the register.” Totally not him instead. “Um, I realized it turned off right now and my mind blanked to turn it back on.”

Sam placed a hand on your shoulder as he laughed, his touch leaving a wave of goosebumps to rise out of your skin. “You’re so cute. I’ll leave you to that then, but if you need help trying to get the register to turn back on again, let me know.” And with that, he sent you a wink and turned on his heel away to start on the customers orders.

Alright, alright. So maybe early shifts weren’t as bad as you thought thanks to your insanely charming co-worker. Sam and you had been working together for the past year, and almost instantly you started falling for him. He welcomed you with open arms and he was a great help when it came to your training. Your co-workers were nice too, but Sam took that extra step in making sure you were comfortable with what you were doing. If you made a mistake and were freaking out about it, he somehow knew the way to calm you down. He was too precious and good for this cruel world. And most of all, out of your league too.

With his dashing looks and amazing personality, you just knew there was no way he’d ever feel the same about you. Except, any time you’d voice that thought to any of your friends at work, they’d tell you you’re crazy and that he likes you too. Apparently they caught on to the signs more than you did, which wasn’t a shocker considering that you’d have no clue if a guy was interested in you unless he blatantly confessed. So, trying to figure out hints was completely pointless for you.

“Uh oh, she’s deep in thought,” one of your friends/co-workers, Danny, teased. He also happened to be Sam’s best friend, and current band mate since the pair are in a band with Sam’s older twin brothers. “I bet I can guess what, or who you were thinking about.”

“Don’t even say it,” you warned with a finger, “He’s literally four feet away from us—”

“So?” Danny rolled her eyes with his arms folded. “Why don’t you just tell him how you feel? Come on, it’s been almost a year now. What’s the worst that can happen if you confess?”

“He can hear me.” You stared blankly at him, shaking your head. “Absolutely not though, Danny. I will not embarrass myself from the humiliation I’d have to face from his rejection.”

Danny groaned frustratedly, placing his hands on both your shoulders and shaking them. “You’re so hopeless! Y/N, how many times do the guys and I have to tell you he likes you too!” He raised his voice a little louder than necessary which accidentally caught the attention of almost everyone in the cafe. Sam included unfortunately. Danny’s eyes widened, silently cursing under his breath. “Carry on, everyone.”

As much as you hated to admit it, Danny wasn’t lying when he mentioned about the guys agreeing that Sam likes you too. Every time you came over Josh’s apartment and Sam was there he’d find any little excuse to have his arm around you or teasing you constantly. You’d shake it off that he was just treating you like a friend would, but of course the guys would disagree with you.

“We’ll finish this conversation later,” Danny told you sternly, “But for now, and don’t make it obvious, but Sam’s looking at you.” A mischievous grin spread across his face as he winked and stepped to the next register before greeting a new customer and taking their order.

Heart pounding out of your chest, you slowly looked over your shoulder in Sam’s direction. You saw his head quickly turn and finish off the drink in front of him. Your cheeks burned at this and tried taking deep, slow breaths to calm yourself down. Didn’t work much, but as a new customer waved and told you their order, your breathing turned back to normal.

On the other end of the counter, Sam was currently freaking the hell out from what he heard a few minutes ago between you and Danny. He didn’t mean to, but he also wasn’t that far from either of you. Plus, Danny wasn’t the best at keeping his voice low. He had a strong feeling he knew you were talking about him, and for that reason alone he overflowed the cup he was pouring into and made a mess. He cursed under his breath and wiped his hands on his apron, shaking his head.

You caught sight of this and rushed to his side, grabbing a cloth from under the sink and started wiping the sticky counter. Sam was certain his cheeks were tomato red from his embarrassment, making a complete fool of himself for not paying attention to what he was doing. More so focusing on your conversation and your damn smile from earlier. You weren’t the only one here with a crush.

“T-Thanks, Y/N.” Sam chuckled nervously, throwing the cup in the trash and tossing the drink pitcher he held in the sink. “I’m normally not this much of a dumbass.”

“I’m not too sure about that one, Kiszka.” You teased lightly with a grin. “It happens, don’t worry,” you assured. “I’m just glad it was cold tea you spilled and not steaming coffee. I’d hate for you to get a third degree burn. That happened to me once, don’t recommend it.”

“Didn’t I drive you to the hospital for that?” he asked. “I think that might’ve happened a few months ago.”

Your eyes widened at the memory. “Oh shit, you’re right. God, I’m still so sorry I had to drag you into that.”

Sam shook his head, lips curving and cheeks no longer flushed. “For the hundredth time, stop apologizing about that, Y/N. You know you can count on me for anything, so of course I didn’t mind driving you to the hospital. I remember even blasting some ABBA on the way over there so you’d have something else to focus on instead of the pain you endured.”

You smiled at the memory. “Didn’t we also go out for ice cream afterwards?”

He nodded, lightly rubbing his arm. “Yeah, it was a lot of fun. I mean, I always have fun when I’m with you.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his last few words, blinking slowly. “O-Oh.”

Oh? That’s all you have to say? Nice one, Y/N.

Sam’s heart dropped. Fuck. Maybe you weren’t talking about him after all. Maybe it was Danny or one of his brothers that you had a crush on and he was mistaken about it. He wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole right about now. Being anywhere but here sounded splendid to him.

“Y-Y/N, I—“

“Ihavefunwhenimwithyoutoo,” you muttered all too quickly, and poor Sam barely even understood what you said. He didn’t have the chance to ask you to repeat yourself because you quickly walked away to the back and he was left with a tug at his chest, frowning.

Within the next few days after Sam’s tea spill, literally, things between you and him became...awkward. Something went off in him to become even more clumsy than normal and forget everything he’s ever known when you’re near him. He’d get flustered, stuttering a lot, messing up orders, dropping dishes, and nearly tripping all the time. He hated it so much and wished he could just muster up the courage and apologize for being such an idiot and confess his feelings to you. Even during your hangouts with the guys, Sam and you wouldn’t interact as much and honestly you were well aware you were being super childish and immature about the situation. Sam did too, and he needed to snap the fuck out of it.

The next few days at work Sam would ignore Danny’s little side comments about his immaturity and continued working in silence. For the rest of his shift he didn’t talk much to anyone other than the customers. He wanted to talk to you when he had the chance, but then he’d quickly back out and walk the opposite direction.

He couldn’t figure out why it was so futile for him to just grow a sack and tell you he likes you. He’d never gone through this struggle before. Then again, as cheesy as it sounded, the other girls he’d asked out in the past couldn’t compare to you. Never in a million years, and maybe he was too afraid that he didn’t deserve someone as amazing as you.

Nearing closing that same day, it was only you, Sam, and Danny. The flow of customers died down and not many people came in towards the end of the night which you were grateful for. It finally gave you the chance to relax a bit and start cleaning things up ahead of time so you wouldn’t have to stay after. Joey and a nice warm bath were waiting for you at home.

While Sam decided on working the register and you and Danny would clean, he grabbed your arm and led you into the back.

“What are you two still doing not dating each other or talking?! It’s been way too long now, Y/N. And since it’s only us three tonight, you have no other choice. Come on, I know you can’t take this any longer, and he can’t either. I can take over the register for a bit while you and him talk.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating his offering. As incredibly thankful as you were for his help, you were also scared shitless of the possible outcome. Perhaps it was finally time though that you say fuck it and say what you needed to. You couldn’t go on for any longer to keep your feelings bottled up inside. Maybe, just maybe he might feel the same way, and by God you hoped that would be the case.

Inhaling, you nodded slowly and made your way back to where you were. Your eyes searched for Sam and saw he was busy making a drink, except there was no one else here besides you, him and Danny. It could’ve been a drink for him, so you shrugged this off and went towards the sink to start washing the dishes.

A few moments later, Sam cleared his throat from behind you. “H-Hey Y/N, so um, I know the créme brûlée latte is your favorite, and I thought I’d make you one. You seemed really stressed and busy today and I wanted to try to cheer you up. I hope that’s okay.”

Your heart swelled at his generosity and your cheeks burned as you felt his gaze burning into you, his palms soaking from nervousness. “Sam, you didn’t have to do that for me.”

He shrugged casually, a small smile on his lips and his cheeks tinted a light pink. “It’s okay, I wanted to. And I uh, tried my best on the art. Hope you like it.”

Raising a brow, your gaze dropped on your cup and your eyes widened as you saw what he was referring to. A small coffee cup with the words I like you a latte around it.

“It’s true,” Sam chewed on his bottom lip while running his fingers through his hair. “I really like you Y/N, and I’m so sorry for acting like such an idiot these last few days around you. I don’t know what came over me, and I’m sorry that I didn’t talk to you much either.”

Setting your cup on the counter, you took a step closer to him and cupped his cheek, rubbing your thumb softly against his soft skin. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, Sam. I’m sorry for not talking to you too, as well as for making a fool of myself. I tend to do that around someone I like.”

Finally, the realization dawned on Sam as a wide grin pulled at his lips. “Glad we’re on the same boat.”

“I-Is it alright if I kiss you?” he asked shyly, his eyes sparkling as he looked at you.

You giggled. “You don’t even have to ask, loverboy.” You playfully rolled your eyes and cupped his other cheek before connecting his lips with yours.

A smirk pulled at Danny’s lips as he glanced at the two of you, shaking his head. Josh and Jake owed him $20 now. 

It was about damn time that Sam and you finally espresso’d your love for each other. 

tagging these lovely folks bc they helped inspired me and their work is amazing <3 @godlygreta​ / @flowervanfleet​ / @dharma-divine​

[soyouthinkucanwrite]

The money thing (part 1/2) - Daniel Ricciardo

It's always the little things, isn't it? The smallest stupidest things make almost no difference and then make all the difference in the world. They make everything special, but they also have the power to tear everything appart.

You and Daniel fight about money for the thousand time and he's had enough of it.

Warnings: super angst, but with a happy ending :)

Guys, this turned out WAY BIGGER than I expected, so I'm just gonna do a part 2, okay? Okay, thanks for understanding!

Song that inspired me: A list by HVOB

You and Daniel had been dating for a couple months now, having met through a common friend and hitting off almost instantly. You lived in Amsterdam and he, well he lived all over the world really, but his "time off" (meaning not racing) was spent between Monaco and London (for work), and Amsterdam now too, of course.

The changes were small and subtle at the beginning, like your weekends being spent traveling to meet him wherever in the world he was and consequently spending almost all your savings on plane tickets. You never complained to him (you planned on spending the money traveling anyway, so you didn't see the point), but didn't accept when he offered to buy your tickets, either. There's been some awkwardness around the subject but it usually died on its own.

*beginning of flashback*

"You’d have gotten here in time if you'd gotten the early flight like I told you" you remembered him saying that time you got in the paddock after the qualifying session had begun and couldn’t kiss him good luck.

"Baby, I told you. It was crazy expensive! Absurd even!"

"(y/n) for god's sake! What are we saving money for? I told you, you have my credit card number, I've offered to get you one, this is ridiculous, I can't believe I literally earn millions and my girlfriend wasn't there with me because the ticket was too expensive! I'll fucking fly you private if I have to!" he was almost yelling in his driver's room. You could only stare from the corner.

He took a deep breath running his hands through his hair. "Sorry. It's just... it was crap out there. I needed you" you grimaced at his words.

"Sorry. I really am..." you tried to approach him. "I'm here now?" you touched his arm. "It can't have been that bad, you're still on the top 10 and we both know what you can do from the 8th car..." you smiled at him.

*end of flashback*

He started to spend much more of his time off with you at your place, so you decided to get a place by yourself (having a roommate was great for company and splitting the rent, but having a roommate there while you guys just wanted some much-needed privacy was not working). Then there were more traveling to meet him, furniture for the new place, clothing for all the events (GPs or not), uber rides here and there... all of that without mentioning that you weren't being able to get the freelance jobs you used to get to make some extra money, so yeah, to say things were tight was an understatement. You tried to do all your shopping alone, so he wouldn't offer and you wouldn't refuse or be awkward about it, but Daniel seem to be glued to you whenever you were in the same city (not that you’re complaining).

He started to spend much more of his time off with you at your place, so you decided to get a place by yourself (having a roommate was great for company and splitting the rent, but having a roommate there while you guys just wanted some much-needed privacy was not working). Then there were more traveling to meet him, furniture for the new place, clothing for all the events (GPs or not), uber rides here and there... all of that without mentioning that you weren't being able to get the freelance jobs you used to get to make some extra money, so yeah, to say things were tight was an understatement. You tried to do all your shopping alone, so he wouldn't offer and you wouldn't refuse or be awkward about it, but Daniel seem to be glued to you whenever you were in the same city (not that you’re complaining).

The thing is, you always had trouble dealing with money. Sure, you liked to pay for your own stuff so as to not owe anything to anyone (especially boys), but it was so much deeper than that. Ever since a kid, you hated asking for money from your parents, and sometimes even the thought of buying stuff that was a bit more expensive made you sick. You couldn't explain why, you just felt guilty having so much and knowing that most people have never even seen that amount. It's not that you didn't want to spend it and save for the sake of it, you just didn't handle the idea of money very well. Needless to say, dating a millionnaire was bound to cause trouble in the relationship for you.

You were currently at his place in Monaco. It was the summer break and you had decided to spend some days just chilling at home, just the two of you - which you were glad since going out means hair, makeup, clothes, accessories, shoes... and, let's be honest, the kind of places he usually took you is not the kind of places you just throw something together last minute (the Instagram models and other driver's girlfriends looking you up and down were enough to make you think about spending money you did not have to hire a stylist or something like that). The whole situation was really stressing you out and you knew you would have to be honest with him eventually, instead of only dodging the subject and refusing most of his offers to pay. You tried to. You kind of tried. You suggested staying at home, in bed, most of the time, and he gladly agreed, but that strategy wasn't gonna work forever. You had to be honest with him. But at the same time, you knew what he was going to say and do, and the thought of him spending money on you, even if just by handling the restaurant bill, wasn't something you were much more comfortable with. Besides, it was only a matter of time before the "gold-digger" term starts to fly around in the small world that was the F1's.

You were laying on his couch, the Olympics playing on the TV but you were too busy overthinking the money thing to pay attention. Daniel was laying with his head on your lap, absently caressing your thigh and watching the TV. His phone went off and he moved to pick it up.

"Hello?" you watched as he answered the phone. "Hey mate, how's it going? Uh nothing, we're just chilling at home. Getting some rest... Yeah, I'm getting rested, you dirty-minded son of a bitch" you rolled your eyes while he laughed out loud on the line with someone. "Yeah, I know... the 19th is it? No, it's fine. Yeah, yeah. I'll be there. Alright, mate. Thanks for calling. Have a good one! Bye!" he hanged up and leaned in to peck you on the lips.

"Good news?" you asked him.

"Not really. Just wanted to kiss you" he shrugged, smiling. You smiled back and hugged him, pulling him in for another kiss. He was always so caring with you, always finding an excuse to kiss or touch you. You knew some people didn't like it, but you loved it. Physical touch was definitely one of your love languages.

"What's happening on the 19th then?" you asked him once you guys set apart from the kiss.

"Gotta be in London. Gonna run some testings and other boring race stuff..."

"Hum..." you hummed in understanding.

"You know what would make it less boring though?" he asked and you just looked at him, you already knew what he was going to ask you and it wasn't that you didn't want to spend every minute of the day with him, but you simply couldn't afford any more traveling, especially not in such short notice. "If you came with me. Huh? What do you say? A week in the Queen's land? Then we can fly together to Spa and after the race, I can go with you to Amsterdam. The next one it's the Dutch GP anyway, I'll just get there sooner" he laughed. It was crushing you, the man of your dreams was literally beaming at making plans with you, talking about spending the next few weeks glued together and you couldn't say yes.

"Dan, I have to work" you smiled sadly.

"Can't you work from distance? Or, I don't know, I mean... I know it's tiring, but you could come to London and fly home a bit early, then just meet me in Belgium?" great, his solution includes even more flying. And the thing is, you really didn't mind the flying. You always slept during the whole thing anyway, so you never got tired and the jetlag was minimal. You could work from distance, sure. Your boss wouldn't mind, as long as you got there eventually to check in on everything. But the whole logistics were just too expensive. There was no way you could afford it.

"I... sorry, I don't think I can" you said sadly and watched as his face dropped.

"That's fine, baby. I get it. I'm asking too much, all this traveling... don't worry about it" he tried to mask his emotions but you knew better. He knew you could in fact work from distance, so he was probably thinking the reason you couldn't do it was because you didn't want to.

He got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen. Meanwhile, you couldn't help but bury your face in your palms. This was so frustrating!

"You wanna go for a run or something? Maybe get something to eat?" he called from the kitchen, already moving on from the subject. You knew this whole thing was only gonna keep build up till he got tired of your excuses or you blowing up, probably the former, but you just keep going.

"Yeah, sure" you answered, getting up from the couch.

You and Daniel were both very active so going for a run, hiking, riding bikes, or whatever in the middle of the day was really routine for you. The Monaco summer weather was as beautiful as always and the sun was shining bright. You enjoyed the rest of your afternoon racing each other, kissing in the harbor, and just taking in the views, spending quality time together. Money wasn't even a thing in your bubble for a while.

"I'm getting hungry" he said on the way back home.

"Me too, and I'm super hot. I could go for a juice or something right now" you were all sweaty from the running, but you didn't care, he was too.

"You're always hot baby, I don't think juice gonna help with that" he grinned at you and you just rolled your eyes at him.

You passed by one of his favorite spots for food, nearby his place and he suggested getting some take-out, to which you agreed.

"Green juice, and a chicken wrap?" you tried to decide while the both of you waited in line.

"I'll never understand how you drink that"

"I've seen you drink that too, it's actually very refreshing"

"Because I'm forced to, I'm a high-performance athlete baby. But I'm on a break, so I'll have a coke, thank you very much" you laughed at him. He was holding your hand and tried to kiss you, wrapping his arm around you, you didn't dodge his kiss, you would never, but still laughed at the fact he wanted to kiss the sweaty mess you were right now.

"I'm gross, only you" you laughed.

"That's my baby, with no makeup she a ten" he rapped shrugging and grinning.

"Alright Lil Wayne, I know that one, don't even finish the verse" you laughed at him, making him laugh out loud, getting everyone's in the restaurant's attention.

"It's true, though"

"Sure..." You just shook your head smiling. Then you heard someone call his name.

"Hey! Daniel!" you both turned around to see Charles and Charlotte sitting in a corner, him waving at you two. You had met Charles a couple of times before but never spoke too much to him. They seemed to be leaving anyway, so they walked towards you guys, instead of towards the door.

"Hey mate, how's it going?" Daniel greeted him with a handshake. "Hey, Charlotte! You know (y/n) yet?"

"Hi! I don't think so, hi! How are you?" she greeted you smiling.

"Hi! Nice to meet you. Hi, Charles!" you said.

"Hey, (y/n). You're keeping him in line during the break? Char won't let me cheat my diet either" he laughed.

"Oh, that ship has sailed long ago! Daniel will just roll into the paddock if it's up to him" you laughed back.

"Hey! I think I've earned the right to some extra calories, we've been working out extra hard lately" Daniel said waving his eyebrows suggestively, making Charlotte giggle, Charles rolls his eyes and you go even redder than you were from the actual workout, while he just laughed out loud.

"I don't even want to know" Charles said. "Always great running into you mate" he was getting ready to say goodbye.

"Are we seeing you guys tomorrow?" Charlotte asked you.

"Tomorrow?" you asked her.

"Stefano's birthday" she said like it was obvious. Stefano Domenicali was the President and CEO of Formula 1, but you didn't know that yet - still, her tone made it seems like it was someone Daniel knew, so you just looked at him. He just rubbed his neck, looking a little embarrassed. "Oh, wait. Please tell me I didn't just said something I shouldn't" she looked at Charles.

"No, no. He invited me. Us, actually" Daniel reassured her. "I don't think we're going though, forgot to mention to you" he said looking at you.

"Uh mate, I wouldn't skip that if I were you. He didn't even invite all the drivers I heard" Charles said. "Maybe just stop by to say hello?"

"Stop by... a yacht... at the sea?" Charlotte said grinning at him. Daniel looked at you.

"You feel like going? It should be fun" he asked you.

"Sounds fancy... I mean, I don't mind if you go" you said.

"Common... I’m not going alone" he nudged you.

"I don't even have anything to wear, Dan" you told him.

"Oh! We can go shopping together!" Charlotte said and you had almost forgotten they were still there.

"Perfect!" Daniel answered for you. You could only imagine the types of stores she shopped.

"Tomorrow morning, then? Daniel can text your address to Charles for me? I'll pick you up!" she was being really nice about it.

"I thought you wanted to go today?" Charles said.

"That's when I thought I would have to go shopping with you, so I could use the extra time since you're the worst shopping partner ever!" she laughed at him.

"Burn!" Daniel laughed.

"His fashion taste is not the most reliable, let's face it" she laughed and kissed his cheek. "It's a date then (y/n)?" she looked expectantly at you. You didn't want to let her down, it was so hard to make friends with the girlfriends of other drivers, they were usually so... not nice. You could always just help her and find something to wear in your own stuff later.

"Yeah, sure! See you tomorrow, at 10?" you said simply.

"Perfect!" she beamed.

>>> end of part 1 <<<

[izaanagi]

“darling, dearest,dicked„

※ Your colleague Suguru invites you over to his house to spend the night because it is raining, you don’t have an umbrella and his house is relatively nearer.

pairing: getou suguru x f!reader

⊘ warnings: mdni! mature content; slightly possessive behaviour; mentions of:fingering; nipple play; unprotected and rough sex; oral sex.

wc: 2.1k

a/n: interactions are welcome and very much appreciated.

It’s raining when you step out of the office; it’s honestly concerning how hard it is pouring down, especially because it’s starting to get chilly at night - and it seems like the world came to a halt. It would be a simple, no matter Tuesday if only your damn Metro card would work, you had an umbrella and your shoes weren’t soaked to the bone. It feels like a plot against you. It’s when you are on the verge to splurge on a taxi fare ride, that you hear a voice, getting nearer and nearer and shouting your name.

You see Getou Suguru stopping his run, hands on his knees, framing kneeled and panting. He clearly run over to you, and before you can ask yourself why, he straightens and his gaze rounds you from bottom to top. His gaze is intense, and his eyes are mesmerizing: you feel your whole body shiver under his stare. His hair is messy, and dark locks of it hang around his man-bun, in the way he styles it when he works. Clearly, he just got out of the office.

“Oh thank God, I thought you didn’t hear me,” he blurts, blushing a bit, and scratching his neck. You smile at him, because he is just adorable. “I did hear you, Getou-San,” you bow a bit, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. Getou is absolutely stunning, and every fit that he owns just clings to him smooth skin and his toned body - and you can’t help but just lose your reason, for a split second, when he looks at you like that, as if nothing else matters. He smiles softly at you and then points at the street, on which there are still a few taxis running around. “Were you going to burn half of your monthly income on one of those?” he candidly asks, and while that should not come as surprise, you still feel yourself blushing, conscious of how you must look to his eyes: wet, disheveled and desperate. You shrug. “Better that than staying out here.” He is amused, and both of you are getting soaked - entirely because you both forgot to check the (wrong) forecast.

“Can’t deny that. But instead of spending money you could save towards those cute little earrings you always ogle on a taxi ride, given that you do manage to catch one, why don’t you repair yourself at my apart? It’s behind the corner of the block, and you could just wait the rain out,” he drops like nothing. Your mind gets racing about the implication of such an offer, but then you remember how this is Getou , an outstanding citizen and a man who eats respect and responsibility for breakfast. Maybe his offer it’s not so bad, just a little unusual. “Could I really do that?” you ask gingerly, and see Getou just smiling. “But of course. Don’t tell anyone, but you’re my favourite in the office, so it would a pleasure of mine offering a safe and warm place in this weather,” Getou says while looking around, through the thick courtain has formed around you. Warm sounds nice at the moment, especially because he is getting soaked because of you, and that can’t absolutely do. So you nod and Getou takes your wrist to drag you along, as fast as your legs allow it.

When you cross the entrance, and a your fingers go numb from the difference in the temperature between inside and outside, you sigh of relief. Getou’s apartment is clean, neat and warm exactly as he promised. It’s a bit impersonal, but you pay no mind. As soon as you get home, Getou throws every wet cloth on the tile floor, exposing his wet skin and his defined back. He goes inside a room and comes out holding a towel in one hand, and the other over his shoulders. “I figured you might need one,” he says while holding out the fluffy towel. “The bathroom is the second door over there,” he indicates a wooden door at the end of the corridor. You follow the simple instructions, when you notice that if you take off your damp clothes, you’ll be left in your panties and bra, which while comfortable, is not entirely decent to do to a colleague’s house. “Getou-san! I am so sorry to ask this, but could I use the drier to hang my clothes?” you ask sheepish. But nothing comes as an answer. Then you hear a knock on the door, and Getou saying that he is leaving some clothes for you outside. You notice right away how big they look on you. They smell the same way Getou does, money and vanilla detergent.

When you finally step out the bathroom, Getou is sitting on the sofa, with the remote in hand and house wear which should be illegal in several different countries. You swallow a lump in your throat and approach Getou on the couch, when he lands his eyes on you. You feel the air changing and his pupils dilate. His gaze is fixed on your figure swallowed up by his large clothes, and he seems outwardly shaken. He shakes his head and pats the space near himself. “I hope you’re a bit warmer than you were when I found you,” he says, eyes on the screen in front of the couch, carefully avoiding yours. “Oh yeah, thank you so much Getou-San,” you answer right away. You are a bit nervous, and Getou’s hands on his knees are distracting. “You could call me Suguru, you know? After all, we are not in the office anymore,” he glances at you, hesitant but also hopeful. It feels a bit weird, but you nod and say “Thank you Suguru-san, then.” He smiles at you, and you feel a tad more comfortable, enough to set yourself on the sofa and close your eyes.

You must have dozed off, and taken Suguru’s space in the meantime, as you find yourself pressed against his chest, laying on him, while his head is bent to the side, intent to watch the motioned images of a TV program. He looks at you and your eyes go wide, you blush and start squirming around in order to put yourself in a seated position, with little success. Suguru’s hand is still on your waist, and he does not seem intent on letting you go. 

“Suguru-san? I am so sorry for falling asleep on you,” you fumble, but Suguru is staring at you vacantly - and it’s then that you notice something hard pressing on your thigh. Something that definitely isn’t the remote, still in Suguru’s hand, nor both of your phones laying on the table. “You don’t really realise, do you?” He asks. You shake your head. You hear him sigh deeply. “Of the damn effect you have on me.” He moans out. “Your hair sweeping those shoulders, the way you puck your lips, those swaying hips, your nipples peaking out of your shirt,” he blurts out calmly, like a man inside a brewing storm, “they just drive me crazy.” You have no idea of what you are doing. You are in a man’s apartment, a man who is objectively attractive and who you masturbated thinking of, wearing his clothes and currently on top of him. “Suguru-san…” you try. But he shakes his head. “I’m sorry to say, but I won’t be able to control myself if you stay here any longer. It stopped raining a while ago.” He looks pained while saying those words. So you take courage and try to be forward. “Do, mh, do you..want to do something about it?” You ask with the timid tone you can manage. Your head is spinning, and the hard dick pressing on you isn’t helping. You can already feel your panties getting wetter by the second, and your nipples are way past being hard. You wonder how is Suguru not noticing the response of your body. But then his gaze turns fiery, and then cold. “My darling, I won’t be holding out much longer. If you don’t get out of here in the span of few minutes, I..” He takes a deep breath. “I, have little control over myself when it comes to you. I want you - and I want you now even more. So yes, I do want to do something about my hard cock down there, but I am not going to force you, and I don’t want you to feel obliged to do anything just because I become unreasonable when you touch me.” But you are not even listening anymore, so you just take off your shirt, revealing your naked breasts, and feel Suguru’s breath hitch. “I want you too, Suguru-san,” you hear yourself says and the next thing you know is Suguru licking your pink bud, feeling heat pooling in your lower abdomen. He sucks on your left nipple, with you still straddling him. His hands are everywhere, and there is no space between you anymore. A hand ends up twisting you nipple so hard you whimper, so Suguru soothes the pain with his tongue. He pinches and then sucks on your stiff nipples so many times you lose count. You can feel hands and tongue, lapping everything they can. You don’t even notice how his hand ends up in your wet panties, and without teasing just penetrate your cunt. It makes you gasp, and Suguru takes up a rhythm of his fingers going in and then going out, faster until he sucks on your nipple so hard that you cum. But he does not care, and puts a second finger in. Even that, however, is not enough. Your pussy is pulsating, cum flowing out but the presence of Suguru’s hands inside of you do not let your relax enough. You feel the heat already forming, and you can’t help but moan. 

“You are so pretty,” Suguru lets out and breathes right into your ear, making your pussy clench around his fingers. Suguru breath is ragged, and you feel him taking a breath in. 

“My darling,” he sighs putting his head on your shoulder and pressing a feather light kiss on your exposed skin “I am about to cum right here if you do that again,” he says seriously. “Please cum, Suguru-san,” you tell him and inadvertently your hand squeezes lightly his clothed cock, swollen. You put your hand inside of his joggers, just to feel pre cum pooling on his tip, no boxers hiding his bulge. Water pools in your mouth, but you a want, a need to feel him inside you overwhelms you. 

“Please fuck me, Suguru-san,” you tell him. And you don’t have to repeat it twice. 

You feel Suguru taking off his pants, his member springing free, the prettiest shade of red in his full glory. He takes off your pants all the way, and does not care about aligning himself, that he slams into you. His grip on your hips is harsh, bruising, but when he starts pounding into you, his mouth colliding with yours for the first time you lose the sense of time. You just feel his cock slamming into you, one, two, three times, so deep that his balls touch your sensible points every time Suguru goes in. The couch is large enough, but you still feel Suguru on you, fucking into your cunt violently, lips not leaving yours. Your hips start moving as well, welcoming Suguru’s cock as deep as you can, length swallowed up in the red hole of your pussy so good. “You take me so well my dear,” he whispers at you, before moving his mouth to suck on your left nipple. He fastens his pace, and reaches the point inside you at which you can’t do anything else but scream. You usually never scream, and moan rarely but Suguru’s cock inside you and his mouth of your breast is enough to drive you to the edge. Then it’s a question of moments that you feel yourself fall and explode on Suguru’s dick, right before he pulls out to cum on your stomach, with shots ending up to your breasts and chin. You milk him until the end, and feel him shiver a few times, before he gathers the spilt cum and takes it to your lips, which you lap up. 

“Suguru-san, I..”you try to complete a sentence with meaning, but nothing comes out of you. Your pussy feels drilled in, and you are pretty sure your hips are bruised, exactly like your nipples, which have never felt so cared for. You want to do it again. Now.

“Please fuck me again,” you then hear yourself say. Suguru smiles and then lowers himself just a bit. “If you let me eat you out first,” he says, licking the cum and penetrating your hole with his tongue. “You can do whatever you want with me, Suguru-san.”

He heads up, and blows on your hot and wet cunt. 

“With great pleasure.”

[bxngchxn]

Elevated || h.js

pairing: jisung x female!reader

wc: 2.85k 

genre: friends to lovers, fluff, smut, college!skz

warnings: explicit content, fingering (f recieving)

description: stuck in an elevator with the cute boy from science class? you’re curious as to how the situation will escalate.

a/n: i am so sorry i said i’d post this last night and i never did but i am here to make it up to you (also some other works coming soon! keep a look out)

send me an ask if you’d like to be on the tag list!

this is a work of fiction and not meant for anyone under the age of 18

You really hate Mondays.

They’re always the longest, and for some reason things happen to go incredibly wrong on the first day of the week. Always.

Waking up and realizing you only have 10 minutes to get dressed and get to class, running across campus seems to be the only option if you want to make it there on time. The professor is strict, and won’t let you in even if you’re only a minute late to class.

You ignore the weird looks you get from students as you sprint across campus, just wanting to make sure today doesn’t get any worse.

The door to your classroom is already shut, and you know that if you try to walk in now, you’re going to be yelled at by the professor and kicked out anyway. It’s not a surprise to you, with the morning you’ve had, you kind of expected things to continue downhill.

Now having some extra time to kill, you head to the school cafe for a cup of (desperately needed) coffee, and then the library for some extra studying for your anatomy class that you’re going to walk into within the next hour and a half. It was your hardest class, and easily the most stressful one as well.

Luckily, your study session went uninterrupted and with no hiccups. Looking at your watch and realizing you need to get moving, you stand up from your spot at the library table only for a student walking by to knock into you, spilling your remaining coffee on your shirt. “Are you fucking kidding me?” you ask in your head, telling the girl who ran into you that it was fine, and that you’re okay once she started apologizing profusely. Of course, now not only are you running late again, but you have a giant coffee stain on your shirt.

“Are you alright?” You hear someone chuckle next to you, and you look to your left and see Han Jisung, looking at you with concern but also a slight bit of humor in his eyes. 

You’ve spoken to him a few times, the two of you sharing your anatomy class. He’s cute, you think, with his bright smile and energetic attitude. You also had a few mutual friends, Seungmin and Changbin, so you had heard more about him than you’ve actually spoken to him.

“Yeah, Jisung, I’m just fine. Thank you for asking,” you quip back, and he arches an eyebrow at you out of curiosity.

“Seems like someone rolled out the wrong side of the bed today,” he says, and it makes you pout. “What makes you say that?” you say while looking away from him grumpily. “No reason, just saw you sprinting through campus out the window this morning, plus you’re like..covered in coffee” he says nonchalantly, and it makes you want to smack him. You both need to get to class though, and the thought makes you groan. “Ugh there’s no way I’ll be able to get to my apartment and change in time..” you say to yourself, looking down at the giant coffee stain on your shirt.

“Here,” Jisung says, and you look up to see him taking off his hoodie and handing it to you. “Jisung I can’t, it’s really okay I’ll just change after class,” you tell him. He shakes his head, and shoves the hoodie into your hands. “I don’t want you to have to sit through class like that,” he says. You slip the hoodie on over your shirt, relishing in the scent of his cologne and how it makes your head spin just a little bit.

Not wanting the coffee to stain the inside of Jisung’s hoodie, you quickly maneuver your arms inside the oversized piece of clothing, and take your shirt off while making sure Jisung’s hoodie still covers you. Pulling your coffee stained shirt out from the neck hole of the hoodie, you look at Jisung who is staring at you with wide eyes. Before you can laugh at his state of shock, Jisung speaks up. “Let’s go, we’re gonna be late!” He says, making his way towards the library exit.

You have no other choice but to follow him because he’s right, class is going to start and you’re not even in the science building. He notices you lingering behind and grabs your hand, leaving you completely shocked as he decides to take off once he steps foot outside, with you in tow. You try to keep up with him, stumbling over your feet while yelling at him to slow down, although it seems like he isn’t going to.

You make it inside the science building and book it up the stairs, praying that you’re not late. Seems as this time, luck is on your side. You and Jisung make it inside the classroom not thirty seconds before the professor does. The two of you exchange victory smiles, still catching your breath while the professor starts the lecture.

You tried to stay focused, but your eyes continued to wander towards Jisung every now and again. He managed to sit right where the sun was shining through the windows, and to put it quite frankly, his beauty was distracting. His tan skin seemed to be glowing, and he would bite his lip in concentration every now and again as he copied the notes from the board. Something about the way his lips looked made you want them against your own, and you were taken aback by your thoughts. You hadn’t even had a real conversation with him until two hours ago, and now you were thinking about kissing him? What is this feeling?

Your eyes move from focusing on his lips to his hands, watching the way they move as he takes notes. You can’t help but imagine what those hands would feel like on your body. His hoodie was warm enough, but you were sure his hands were something else.

You hear Jisung laugh quietly, and your eyes shoot up from their current focus to realize that Jisung had caught you staring at his hands. Your cheeks flush a bright red, and you turn your head back to the front of the classroom, hoping he’ll ignore it later.

“Well, thank god my classes are done for the day,” you say once you realize Jisung is waiting for you after lecture is over. Your cheeks are still a little pink, and you’re just waiting for the boy to make a joke about your obvious staring. Jisung laughs, too, and the sound makes you feel a little lighter. “Yeah I know right? Especially since the weather is getting cooler and I seem to have lost a hoodie,” he quips, and you playfully smack him on the arm. The playful smirk on his face sets something off inside of you, but you try and ignore it as much as possible.

“I told you I didn’t need it!” you say, and he shakes his head. “It’s alright, you don’t need to worry about it,” He insists, but it still doesn’t sit right with you. “No, no I feel bad. Here, come to my place really quick? I’ll change out of this and throw my shirt in the wash so you can have this back,” you ask him. “Well, I think I have some time...” he says playfully. You roll your eyes and lead him in the direction of your apartment building.

On the walk to your apartment, you get to talk to Jisung more than you ever have before.You definitely regret not getting to know him sooner. The stories you’ve heard about him definitely don’t do him justice, either. He’s really quick witted-- able to make you laugh harder than you’ve laughed in awhile. Pair that with his soft brown eyes and his bright smile, he’s basically a knock out.

Once you reach your building, Jisung opens the door for you and it just adds to the tiny feelings you could sense growing in your stomach for this boy. You walk up to the elevator and press the call button, and the presence of Jisung behind you waiting for the elevator makes the hairs on your neck stand up. He was really, really close to you, and you could feel his warmth radiating off of him. Not to mention you were still wearing his hoodie, the smell of his cologne fogging your senses.

The doors open, and you step inside first, turning around to press the button to head to the 9th floor. Jisung follows, standing next to you and leaning against the rail behind him. It’s quiet, but comfortable.

That is, until you hear a weird noise coming from the elevator.

You look up at Jisung to see if he heard it too, and the way his grip tightens on the bar behind him doesn’t go unnoticed by you. The elevator shakes, slightly, and out of reflex you move to grab onto Jisung. His arm goes around your waist, pushing you to him while keeping a hand on the bar holding him steady. Just like you thought, the elevator shakes more strongly and then comes to a stop. The lights go off for a moment, but the backup lights come on almost immediately, bathing the small space in a soft, dull light.

You let go of the breath you were holding once you’re sure the elevator isn’t going to plummet 7 stories. Jisung feels you relax in his hold, and moves away slightly to look at you. “Are you okay?” He asks you for the second time today, except this time his voice is very clearly concerned. “Yes, I’m fine. What happened? How are we gonna get out of here?” You say, checking your phone and realizing you don’t have any cell service.

Jisung steps away from you, letting his arm fall from your waist. You miss the feeling of protection, but watch him anyway as he makes his way over to the elevator door. Taking a look through the gap, you hear Jisung mutter some curses under his breath. “Looks like we’re stuck between floors, which is why your phone isn’t working,” he says, trying to further inspect the situation.

“So what do we do then? Sit here and wait for someone to come save us?” You ask, eyes wide. He shrugs, and turns back to the door. “Hey! Can anyone hear us? We’re trapped in the elevator!” He shouts, and it’s quiet for a moment before a stranger’s voice is heard from a few feet above you.

“We heard the rattling of the elevator! We’ve called maintenance and fire, but they said it’s going to be about 20 minutes until they can get here. We hope you’re okay!” The voice says. Jisung nods his head and yells a thank you to the stranger before making his way back towards you in the small elevator.

You’re happy to know that help is on the way, but what if something happens before they get there? What if the elevator -does- decide to fall before they can get there? You don’t want to live out your final moments in your college apartment’s elevator.

You start to freak out a little bit, and Jisung can sense it. “We’re gonna be okay, you know that right? Help is on the way,” he says, and moves to take a seat on the floor. You join him, hoping it will calm your nerves even just a little. “Yeah, I just hate elevators..” you say, and he doesn’t answer you. You want to say the quiet is calming, but you can’t help the anxiety you feel in the pit of your stomach. You start picking at the carpet of the elevator out of nervousness, and Jisung takes notice.

He scoots a little closer to you and grabs your hand, the size difference of his hands compared to yours is almost baffling. You feel that blush rise up again, reminded of what happened in class earlier. Jisung is playing with your fingers absentmindedly, both of his hands grabbing at them and lightly pulling them in different directions, the pad of his thumbs smoothing over the back of your palm. You can’t look at him, too embarrassed for getting worked up at the gesture.

It seems like God is out to get you today, because Jisung laughs that teasing laugh of his again, and this time a finger under your chin brings your head up to make eye contact with him.

“Y’know, I was going to let it go earlier, but now I don’t think I can..You seem to be pretty fascinated with my hands, huh baby doll?” He asks confidently, and the tone of his voice makes you want to jump down the elevator shaft out of shyness. The new pet name brings those same feelings back to your stomach, and you’re at a loss for words. Jisung takes notice of this, and his smile turns from playful to something a little more serious.

‘Awe now why are you getting shy? You sure weren’t when you were checking me out in lecture earlier,” Jisung says, his tone condescending as he moves closer to you. “I promise, Y/N, I’m not going to bite. I mean, not unless you want me to,” he whispers. He’s not even an inch away from your face, and now you can’t seem to break eye contact with him. His hand moves from your jaw to the back of your neck. “If you don’t want this, you need to tell me..” he insists, but you don’t even need to think twice. “I want it. I want you.” you say quietly, and that’s enough for him to close the distance and pull you on top of him.

Being seated on Han Jisung’s lap is nothing short of an out of body experience. His lips are soft against yours, nipping at your bottom lip and asking for entrance which you gladly grant him. The kiss is fast and passionate and full of tongues but neither of you seem to care. You can’t think of anything except that you were right; the feeling of his hands roaming your body is better than you could’ve imagined. By now your fingers are tangled in his hair, pulling slightly every now and again and listening to the beautiful sounds of Jisung groaning against your lips.

“You are absolutely gorgeous,” he says, his fingers trailing to the button of your jeans. You busy yourself with moving your hands underneath his tshirt, his skin warm and soft under your fingers. You can feel the ridges of abs that you didn’t know existed, and as Jisung is whispering sweet nothings into your ear, you whine at the sensation of his fingers that have found their way into your underwear.

“You look so pretty like this for me,” Jisung continues, his fingers rubbing circles on your clit in slow circles as you whine at him. “I knew I wasn’t going to be able to control myself the moment you slipped this damn hoodie on. You look so small, baby.”

You’re sure that you’re going crazy the more that Jisung talks to you. In order to preserve even the tiniest bit of your sanity, you connect your lips to his once more. You hear him chuckle into the kiss, Jisung sensing your urgency as you grind down onto his fingers with a newfound energy.

“You really like my hands that much, huh? Gonna get off just on my fingers baby?” He asks once again, this time inserting a finger into your core. You moan at the new sensation, but Jisung isn’t having it. “Words, baby. Tell me how you’re feeling,” He orders, and something about his tone sends you up a wall. “S-so good Jisung.. I.. fuck,” you breathe out.

Jisung snaps back to reality for a moment and remembers: You’re on a time crunch. Maintenance could get the elevator back up and running at any moment. He adds another finger inside of you and quickens his pace at the same time. The speed has you reeling, the knot in your stomach tight but not quite ready to snap.

“I need you to cum for me baby, someone could walk in any minute. We don’t need anyone else seeing how much of a slut you are for my fingers alone, now do we? Or would you like that?” He asks, and the idea has you clenching around him. Jisung senses this, and laughs. “Something to keep in mind for another time,” he says to himself. You bury that comment at the back of your mind, focusing on the pleasure that’s rising in your core.

Once Jisung starts rubbing harsh circles on your clit, the combination of that and his fingers inside you has you arching your back. To Jisung, you are the most ethereal being on the planet right now; the soft light of the elevator highlighting your features, making you look oh so beautiful and almost unreal as your orgasm washes over you.

Jisung helps you ride out your high, your hips slowly coming to a stop as you begin to catch your breath. “Th-thank you, Jisung..” you say quietly, moving your hair out of your face. “Trust me, baby doll. The pleasure was all mine,” he chimes, and a small laugh leaves your lips as you finally gain your composure once again.

The two of you stay sitting like that for a few minutes, basking in the glow of this new found relationship until you hear voices a few feet above you again. “Hello? Are you alright in there? This is the fire department, we’re going to get you out of there, don’t worry.” The faint voice says. You both sigh in relief, Jisung’s arms falling around your waist once again.

It doesn’t take long for the elevator doors to be opened, and you’re both pulled up by the firemen who came to your rescue.

Once safe and sound, it doesn’t take long for you to pull Jisung into your apartment to make up for something very, very important, either.

[phoebe-delia]

Has anyone asked for song #1 yet? I'm very curious which song you're listening to most.

I really enjoy your writing in combination with the song prompts! Thank you for sharing it with the world!

Hello darling! Thank you for this ask. As a matter of fact, no one has requested 1!

My number 1 song is the explicit version of "Potential Breakup Song" by Aly and AJ.

I know, I thought it would be a Taylor Swift song, too! I will say, this playlist was from Apple Music and I recently started using Spotify more so idk if this is still accurate for my current No. 1 song, but it's still a bop.

This is a bit of a challenge, but I figure if I can write a fic based on "Yeah!" by Usher, I can give this a try. This fic will be *mostly* funny and fluffy but there's some angst with a happy ending.

5 Times Draco Almost Broke Up With Harry

1.

"Tell me something," Draco said shyly, tracing patterns into Harry's bare arm. Sunlight streamed into the living room, dust motes dancing in the rays.

"What do you mean?"

"Something I don't already know about you."

"Like what?"

Draco's expression turned exasperated. "I don't know, Harry, that's rather the point."

"Right...er, okay, here's something you don't know about me. I don't like whipped cream."

Draco looked at him, startled. "You don't?"

"Er, no. I also don't like marshmallows or--"

"What?"

"Or avocado, or eggs."

Draco sputtered. "What is wrong with you?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Merlin, here we go."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Every time I tell people the foods I don't like, they get all indignant and huffy," Harry waved a hand. "It's so weird. Like I've offended them by disliking meringue."

"You don't like meringue?! That's it, I'm breaking up with you."

Harry groaned. "I regret this. I regret everything. Just--forget it."

Draco sighed. "No, no I'm sorry. In my exaggerated teasing, I see how I might've struck a nerve."

"It's fine--I'm just tired of people taking my food preferences as a personal insult."

"I take everything you do as a personal insult."

Harry just chuckled. "That you do, Draco, that you do."

2.

"POTTER!!"

"WHAT?"

"GET IN HERE!"

"WHERE'S 'HERE'?"

"TAKE A WILD GUESS, AUROR POTTER!"

....

"Ah, good to see that your tracking skills aren't too hopeless. Now, care to tell me what's wrong with this picture?"

"Er...you're angry?"

"Yes, I am angry--and the reason for that is obvious if you merely look around the room and see if you can identify what might be bothering me."

"You get really formal when you're upset."

"Potter--"

"And you call me Potter."

"If only you would use your powers of observation for discovering the cause and not the symptoms of my frustration, this conversation would be over."

...

"Is it my socks?"

"Your socks, your pants, your shirt, your trousers--all in a heap in the closet."

"So? I haven't done laundry in a while."

"Potter, you do realize there are laundry spells, don't you? So that dirty clothes don't stink up one's closet?"

"...No?"

Sigh. "Alright, I suppose I won't move out this time."

"Oh, what a relief."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"Never. Especially not toward you, baby."

"I should hope not. Now, c'mere and let me teach you the spell."

3.

"I can't believe you'd betray me like this." Draco shook his head mournfully, bits of snow falling from the top of his warm hat. "I trusted you."

Harry scoffed. His breath fogged in the air. "I told you this was happening today. It's not my fault you weren't listening."

"Asking me post-coital if I'd like to attend the Weasley Family Brunch is Slytherin-level manipulation."

"Did I ever tell you the Sorting Hat almost put me in Slytherin?"

"What?" Draco stopped walking, turning to Harry in shock.

"Yeah. Told me I'd do well. But you'd been such an arse to Ron that I begged it to sort me anywhere else."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course. Honestly, I did you a favor. You were practically made for Gryffindor."

"Who knows? Maybe we'd have been friends back then."

Draco glared and Harry snickered.

"You know, Potter, between your little jokes and this stunt you pulled, I'm one insult away from Apparating on the spot and leaving you here."

Harry smiled fondly. Taking Draco's hand, he led them toward the Burrow, its warm light a welcome destination in the icy weather.

"Nah, you won't, you know why?"

"Why?"

Harry smirked. "Because then we won't get to be post-coital together."

Draco scowled. Harry laughed.

4.

"Don't say a word."

"Can I just--"

"Harry."

"But I--"

"Potter. Shut up.

...

"Draco I'm sorry--"

"Harry, what is the one thing I asked you to do when you became an Auror?"

"...Don't be stupid."

"Yes. I asked you not to do anything stupid. I asked you not to impulsively put yourself in harm's way."

"Draco it's my job to protect my partner, and--"

"You don't think I understand that? Of course I do! I can't fault you for being a loyal partner, Harry, but running into a hostage situation without calling for backup is the absolute dumbest thing you could've done! You nearly died!"

"But I didn't! And the case is over now."

"You were in St. Mungos for nearly a week! Do you know how agonizing it was to see you like that? Do you--" Draco's voice cracked and he cut himself off, turning away from Harry.

Harry's heart clenched. He walked up to Draco and wrapped strong arms around him from behind, expecting to be pushed away. Instead, Draco leaned into the touch.

"I know your job has its risks, Harry, but the least you can do is not create them for yourself. You said the Sorting Hat nearly put you in Slytherin; some self-preservation would be good for you."

Harry sighed, nuzzling Draco's neck. "Okay. I'll try."

Draco turned in his arms, looking at Harry with wet eyes. "Good. The last thing I want to do is break up with you, but I couldn't handle it if I lost you any other way, I--" The tears spilled at that. Draco's face flushed in embarrassment, in anguish.

Harry's chest constricted. He pulled Draco close to himself and stroked his hair, letting the other man cry his fears into his shirt.

"I won't let it happen, Draco. I promise."

Draco nodded, his cheek brushing Harry's shirt.

Harry smiled. They'd be okay.

5.

Draco was going to kill Harry.

He was going to break up with him, and then kill him, and then revive him just to break up with him once more.

He cast a Tempus. 8:20.

Over an hour. Over an hour he'd been waiting for Harry to return home. He was beginning to get hot in his tailored suit, despite the cooling charms.

He hadn't heard anything. No Owl, no Floo, no nothing. Either Harry had no respect for decorum or...

Nope. Draco couldn't go there, wouldn't. Harry promised and he always kept his promises.

Suddenly, the Floo roared to life, making Draco jump. Harry stumbled through with a panicked expression on his face, dusting the Floo powder from his formal robes.

"Draco! Merlin, I'm so sorry, I thought I had time and then everything got all screwed up and I got here as fast as I could."

Draco sighed. "It's fine, Harry, let's just order takeaway."

"Why?"

"Well, we missed our reservation. Cerise won't wait for more than thirty minutes."

Harry pursed his lips. "What if I had something else in mind?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

With a smirk, Harry tossed him a hairbrush, which Draco caught with Seeker instinct.

"Harry wh--" His eyes widened as he felt the pull of a portkey, the sound of Harry's amused laughter echoing behind him.

He landed with a thud on a balcony. After a crack, Harry appeared next to him, gasping to catch his breath for a moment.

"Potter, what the fuck?"

Harry chuckled. "Surprise! Look around, Draco."

Draco's breath caught as he finally took in his surroundings. They were standing on a balcony in Paris, confirmed by the sight of La Tour Eiffel in the distance. The lights of the city twinkled like stars below them. On the balcony were two chairs and a small table with hot food under a stasis charm. A bottle of wine and two glasses sat ready for them. Draco checked the label and confirmed with a gasp that it was a 1989 Chateau Lafleur.

"Harry, I--" Draco turned around but was startled into silence at the sight of Harry on his knee, a hopeful smile on his face and a small black box in his hand.

Draco's eyes went wide. "What?" He breathed.

Harry bit his lip. "Draco, I'm sorry I don't like whipped cream. I'm sorry I forget to do laundry, and that I dragged you to Sunday dinner. I'm sorry that I worry you sometimes because my job is dangerous. I'm sorry I run late to our dates sometimes.

But I promise to give you the avocado from my sandwich. I promise to try to remember the spells you taught me, and to use my manipulative powers for good and not evil. I promise I'll use better judgment in the field. And I promise I'll try to be on time for our dates.

And I promise to do all of this for as long as I can, as long as you let me. And if you do--if you promise to love me for the rest of our lives--I promise to do the same. Draco Malfoy, will you marry me?"

Draco let out a delighted, euphoric laugh. "Yes, yes of course I'll marry you!"

Harry grinned and rose from his knee to pull Draco into a nearly bruising kiss. When they pulled apart, they pressed their foreheads together and looked as Harry slid the ring, a simple silver band with tiny emeralds, onto Draco's finger.

As they ate dinner, looking out over the city, Harry gave him a cheeky grin. "So, tell me, how'd I do?"

Draco raised his eyebrows. "With tonight? The proposal?"

"Yeah, what'd you think? I hope it made up for me being late. I'm sure you were about ten minutes from breaking up with me," Harry said with a chuckle.

Draco shook his head and smirked. "No, Harry," he raised the glass of wine to his lips. "I'd never do that."

Send me an ask about Harry Potter, broadway/musicals, The West Wing, and/or Taylor Swift! Or just about life in general :).

Also, I have a playlist of my 99 most listened-to songs of the year so far. Pick a number 1--99 and send me an ask and I'll write you a fic based on it!

[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

PART FIFTEEN (final chapter)

Pairing: Josh & female!Reader Warnings:  18+ ONLY, sexual content, alcohol, feelings Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: What an odd feeling this is. I love writing fics, but when you work so long and hard on something, it’s hard to let it go. I’m really pleased with how it turned out though, and I’m so incredibly grateful to everyone that read it and interacted with it. A big thank you to my editor, @lantern-inthenight​ for sticking with me through it, and thank you again to everyone on my taglist. 

MASTERPOST

taglist: @valleyd0ll​ @satingrass-maidensfair​ @guitarfingers​ @thebohemianpenguin​ @peaceisouranthem​ @oblvions​ @hansonobsessed @myownparadise96​ @anditsmywholeheart​ @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies​ @bigblack-catattack​​  @dharma-divine​

There was a plant in the Kiszka house that you couldn’t stop looking at - you found yourself making your way to the kitchen, just so you could peek in on it. It was a Christmas cactus placed on the south-facing window sill above the sink, spilling out of the sides of its terra cotta pot in long tendrils. 

Shapely, dark green, and perfectly healthy - it was the perfect metaphor for the household that loved it. The fuchsia pink buds on the tips of every trailing vine were promising to open every day since you’d arrived, and - perfectly on queue - the first one opened on Christmas Eve. It had been tightly closed when you greeted it in the morning as you sipped your cup of coffee, but by the time the family was snacking on a veggie tray and cocktail weenies at lunchtime, it was fully open, facing the floor in a way that reminded you of a ballerina’s tutu. 

“You like this thing, huh?” Josh had asked, audible to just you over the lively conversation and music filling the kitchen and dining room. He was standing closely behind your right shoulder, charmingly trying to get the same view of the cactus that you were - as if that could help him appreciate it better. 

“Isn’t it lovely?” you replied, turning your head and realizing at the same time that you could kiss his cheek if you leaned in closer. The two of you shared a lingering look that you put an end to just before you could start feeling physically warm.

He hummed in consideration after a moment. “It’s pretty,” he agreed and then smiled weakly. “It kinda just looks like another plant to me though, if I’m being honest.”

You turned to face him then, giving him a warm look. “There’s a lot of beauty to be found in things that other people don’t know to consider. It gives you kind of a selfish satisfaction.”

The slightly suggestive tone you’d taken put a puzzled smile on his face. He gave you a look that somehow perfectly let you know that he’d be back to pry at the deeper meaning of this conversation later when you were alone. 

“We got this for Christmas for my mom one year when we were little kids. Sam and Ronnie liked the color.” He smiled at it past your shoulder. “It used to be so tiny.” 

It certainly wasn’t anymore. As a matter of fact, it was currently threatening to take over the whole sill - swallow up the little knick-knacks peppered around it. 

“It’s really happy,” you agreed. 

+++

Dinner that night was photo-worthy. Laid out on the table were dishes upon dishes of different comfort foods, each with its own oversized serving spoon. Jake had been trying to make homemade bread through the entirety of your time there - the first night was his very first time making it and it was a little raw, then the next night it seemed a little hard, then the next it looked a little overcooked and dense. Tonight, however, it looked worthy of a cooking magazine cover.

PERFECT BREAD ON THE SIXTH TRY! it would read triumphantly.  

No one had a claim on any of the specific spots at the dining table, so it was free game - which was how you were able to finagle your way into sitting between Jake and Sam for that evening’s meal. You liked them a lot, for the record, but you had been thinking a lot about your earlier interaction with Josh, and that was the reason for your chosen position. 

You wanted to stare at him without arousing suspicion - or rather, any more suspicion than was already present amongst the six of you. 

He had given you a questioning look as he sat directly across the table from you, scooting his chair in until he could rest his elbows on the wood. You offered him a reassuring smile as you settled in, but secretly you reveling in the fact it’d seem awfully non-platonic if he questioned your choice out loud. 

While you ate, he only caught you looking at him once, to which he responded by playfully poking his tongue out at you. Otherwise, you listened intently to a story that Sam was telling you about a fated time he found a designer jacket in a truck stop bathroom and it fit perfectly. You also chatted lightly with Jake - who was sitting to your right - about each of your classes and he graciously listened to you gripe at length about the weather and its lack of consistency, which was obviously very kind of him.

When dinner was over, the family changed into their pajamas before meeting in the living room with their wine to sit around the tree and open one present each of their choosing. It went around in a circle, starting with Josh who received a new cutting board and a set of knives that his mom jokingly assured him he couldn’t have until he was ready to go back to Ann Arbor. You were unabashedly visibly excited to be able to use a knife that could cut without having to use a sawing motion.

Jake had unknowingly chosen to open the present you got for him, which was a leather-bound journal and fountain pen that cost more than you wanted to admit but after you saw it at the store, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. You had felt incredibly cool while purchasing it, so in a way, it was kind of a gift for you too. 

The gift you opened was a wool sweater from Josh’s parents and when you lovingly clutched the forest green fabric to your chest, it was a genuine gesture. You reminded them that they didn’t have to get you anything, but thanked them profusely when they informed you that you were being silly.

After the designated presents were opened, warm conversation was had as the Rudolph Christmas movie played quietly in the background. It was one of your holiday favorites though, so you probably paid more attention to it than the rest of the family. 

Once 10 pm hit, there was a sharp rise in the frequency of yawns, and shortly after that people started turning in, one by one. Everyone was wished a good night, knowing that when they woke up again, it would be Christmas. 

After Jake turned in around 11:30, you and Josh were the last ones standing - or sitting rather. 

You were sitting next to each other on the sofa, about a foot apart because despite Jake having been privy to your relationship, it was just good practice when any member of his family was around. 

As soon as Jake’s bedroom door was closed, Josh seemed to visibly relax his muscles, though his fingers still fidgeted with his jeans every few moments.

“Are you liking being home?” you asked and then took a sip of wine, already knowing what he was going to say. 

He gave you a low, pained-sounding hum through a grimacing smile. “We should have just told my family what the nature of our relationship was - I don’t think I can handle not touching you much longer.”

 “M’kay, couple things to address here,” you started through an amused smirk. “You were able to handle not touching me for months - I think you can handle literally one and a half more days. And two-”

He cut you off with a finger against your lips. “Yeah, but had I known you wanted me to, it would have made a lot of difference.”

You pressed a kiss to the digit before he quickly pulled it away with an accusatory squint in his eye. 

“And secondly,” you tried again pointedly. “What would you have told them? ‘Hey guys, I have very very fuzzy boundaries with my roommate and that often results in us sleeping together, both literally and as a euphemism’?”

He shot you a teasing smirk. “Cute. You’re very cute,” he said sarcastically. 

After a very long, comfortable silence, you spoke again, voice low and hushed. “So, can I scoot closer to you now?” 

He looked over at you from out of the corner of his eye, still holding that smirk. “Please do.”

You shuffled until your thigh was touching his.

Of course, you had missed it right away, but you hadn’t really realized how much you’d missed being physically close to him until you caught the now-familiar scent of his cologne. 

Another comfortable silence fell upon the room, quiet enough that all you could hear was the quiet crackling of the logs in the stone fireplace.

“Can I kiss you too?” you asked, looking over at him through the sheer curtain of your hair. 

He looked like he was truly mulling it over as his eyes flicked down the hall to his siblings’ rooms, and then across the living room and up the set of stairs to his parents’ room. After a second, he let out a huff and said, “Fuck it.”

He reached over and tugged on your various limbs until you were sitting in his lap, face to face. 

It had been so forbidden to you up until then, that when he leaned in and caught your lips, you let out a groan under your breath. 

“I missed you,” he breathed, almost directly against your mouth. “I love knowing you in any aspect, but I’ve been burning for this.”

 It made the heat rise to your cheeks, as well as your lap - but you couldn’t let him know he’d turned you on so easily, so you replied breathily with, “That’s an awfully fancy way of telling me you’re horny, babe.”

He was biting back a laugh for a split second before, grabbing your hips a little tighter to gain back what dominance you had borrowed from him with your teasing. 

You pressed your luck. “Really, very eloquent.”

A look of contemplation flashed over his features as he was obviously deciding what to do next. He lifted you with little effort and then pressed you firmly backward until your shoulders hit the seat of the couch. Then he crawled over you and stared down into your eyes triumphantly. 

“Aren’t you worried about someone coming out here?” you challenged through a grin. 

He leaned in until he could drag his teeth across your cheekbone, making your skin prickle. “I don’t care anymore,” he replied, and then - in a show of brutal honesty - pressed his crotch against your hip and ground down just enough to show you how hard he was. 

Your breath caught in your throat, and involuntarily, you bucked up against him.

You kissed him so forcefully that it was almost more like just mashing your mouths together for a long moment. His hand slipped down between your bodies until his fingers brushed over your navel, the ticklish feeling making the muscles jump under the touch. It was the anticipation of his next move that fucked you up the most.

He was dragging his fingers lower, just about to dip under the band of your pajama pants when he seemed to have a moment of clarity and pulled his hand away altogether. You frowned at him, pushing your hips up to meet his hand instead, to which he responded by placing his palm on your stomach and pressing you back down with a laugh. 

“Let’s go to my room,” he suggested.

“No, wait.” You gave him the softest eyes you could. “It’s so romantic out here right now - the lights on the tree, the fire, the soft couch. Would you just kiss me here for a bit?”

The look on his face could only be described as enamored. He stared at your face for a few long seconds before you finally asked if he was alright. 

“I’m lucky to have you.”

He said it under his breath, so sincerely and honestly, that you weren’t sure how to respond until you could catch up with your thoughts. You cupped his jaw in your right palm, raking your fingers through his hair and he careened your touch in a way that had you feeling like a melting scoop of ice cream.

 “You know, I sometimes think about how poorly the whole ‘moving across the country to a place you’ve never been for school’ thing could have gone. There were so many variables that had to click into place, and somehow I still ended up living with a person that,” You paused to brush your thumb against his cheekbone, hoping to portray your meaning through your touch. “Might be a literal angel.” 

He raked his front teeth over his bottom lip subconsciously as he consumed the compliment. You could see his brain chewing it over as he snickered a laugh. 

“Though, I think angels are supposed to deliver good tidings and not black eyes,” you teased. 

You couldn’t name the look he adopted then, but it seemed somewhere between solemn and proud reminiscence. The frown forming on your features was not lost on him, and you quickly spoke before he could change the subject. 

“What’s wrong?” 

He hummed and met your eyes. “I never wanted you to find out about that,” he said like an admission.

“What do you mean?”

“There were a lot of things I did to get your attention, but that was completely reactionary. I’ve never been a violent person - well, to anyone but my siblings anyway-”

You huffed a laugh at him but nodded for him to continue. 

“You were right,” He met your eyes with an intense sincerity. “I am a lover. Not a fighter.”

“I know,” you whispered as you brushed a stray curl from his forehead. “But you must have known I would find out, right?”

“I wasn’t thinking about that at the time, but yeah - in retrospect - of course, you’d find out. But I did it. I sought him out and it just-”  He bit his lip for a second to take a pause. “I saw him and all I could think about was you crying on my shoulder that night.”

You didn’t say anything. You just let him gather his thoughts as the crackling of the fire served as a placeholder in his silence. 

“He’s lucky he only got a black eye because I wanted to kill him for touching you.”

 It was clear after a moment that he was waiting for you to respond, possibly even hoping for validation at such a vulnerable moment. 

“If I’m being honest, Josh, I still can’t believe you could do that - I can’t even imagine you yelling at someone in a way that was anywhere near serious.” 

He stared at you for a few long beats, and you watched the reflection of the Christmas lights twinkle like stars speckled over the dark canvas of his eyes.

 “Yeah, well,” he started, just above a whisper. His brows were tipped into a look of contemplation - the spacing of his words making you think that he wasn’t sure how to proceed. “You do crazy things to protect the people you love.” 

It wasn’t voluntary in any way when your breathing stopped, it just happened - like your lungs were locked up for a few long seconds as you waited for one of you to say something. 

“You’re my best friend,” he said like a confession, looking more serious than you’d ever seen him. “And I love you.” 

Undeniably, your face was peachy pink - you could feel it tingling warm. You weren’t sure what to do with your hands, but you knew you wanted to touch him. His skin tightened around his jaw when you ghosted your fingers over it.

“You love me?” 

He nodded at you, a small but confident motion. “You fill a lot of different positions in my life. I’m not in love with you yet - I don’t think - but I want your permission to be.”

Without wasting another second, you caught his lips in an earnest kiss, your chest feeling like it might implode. It only lasted for a moment before he was pulling you back up until you were sitting in his lap.  

“Was that romantic enough for you?” he asked, trying to shade his voice with humor but it came out sounding breathless instead. 

“I literally can’t imagine anything more romantic,” you agreed with a weak laugh and then teased, “Unless you proposed. You’re not going to propose, are you?”

He adopted a disbelieving smirk. “Do you want me to? I’m sure I can fashion a ring out of something. Maybe there’s a cock ring joke in there somewhere-”

You rolled your eyes playfully and cut him off with, “Please shut up and take me to bed. Right now, okay?”

He ushered you off of him with a breathy laugh before gently nudging you in the general direction of his room. “Hurry along then.” 

The two of you padded quietly down the hall, shutting the door without making a peep. 

The only light in his room was what you could see of the Christmas lights that framed the front door, casting a white-gold glow over the setting.

When he laid you out over the bed, it was significantly gentler than you were expecting as was the kiss he placed - first on your cheek and then your jaw and down your neck to your throat.

His hands slipped under your pajama top, tugging lighting at the buttons on it from the inside and letting his fingers make the skin across your navel tighten. Instinctively, your fingers tangled into his hair, keeping him close enough that the pointed tip of his nose was resting on your sternum. The warm humidity of his breath hitting your skin was both calming and exciting at the same time in a way you couldn’t describe if you tried. His fingers worked to undo your top with relative ease, sliding it off of your chest after. 

You eyed the way his bicep flexed as he held all of his weight on it, and wrapped your fingers around it to give it a squeeze. He reacted by dragging his teeth across your breast with just enough sting to make your hips lift off the bed. The way he sucked one of your nipples into his mouth and rolled it around with his tongue made you squirm, fingers flexing into his tense skin. A tingly, warm feeling set over you as you wrapped your legs around his hips and sat up to shrug your shirt off. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this,” he stated simply as he ran his fingers down your bare chest. 

You hummed at him through a smile, pinching his chin in your fingers and tilting his head up until he had to look you in the eyes. He gave you a grin as he bit his bottom lip and then leaned in to press a kiss against your cheek. In your heart, you knew the gesture had you blushing, but it was confirmed for you when he smugly rubbed his thumb across your cheekbone. 

The chill in the room made your newly-naked skin prickle as he tossed your pajama pants to the floor, followed quickly by his own. With all of your clothing discarded into a pile, he pulled you up onto your knees, cupped both sides of your jaw with his hands, and tugged your face closer until your noses were touching. You listened to his shaky breathing for a moment before you dug your fingers into his hips, pulling him back over you as you laid out on the bed. 

You knew your nails were digging into his skin - probably a little too deeply - as he pushed into you, one of his hands wrapped around your thigh to keep it hitched over his hip. This was confirmed for you when you heard him suck in a breath that sounded more like a hiss, though you got the feeling that he liked the sting of it. 

Through the entirety of the time he was fucking you, he barely pulled his body away from you at all, instead opting to just rock himself against you until you were near tears. The biggest challenge was barely making a sound as you reached your peak, your face buried in the humid crook of his neck and shoulder. 

You weren’t positive how much time had passed, but as you laid together, post-orgasm, you realized just how exhausted you were. 

Neither of you had said a word for quite a while, so it sounded too loud when you spoke into the dark room. 

“Are you going back to the living room?” you whispered. 

“Nah, fuck it. I’m not going anywhere,” he replied, nuzzling the top of his nose into your hair as you laid, half on his bare chest. Just before you fell asleep you remembered the very first night you slept in his bed, and how much had changed since then - and how much had not really changed at all. 

+++

You had meant to set an alarm - really. But you hadn’t gotten around to it the night before, which is why when you came stumbling out of the bedroom with Josh close behind you, you were met with a few pairs of eyes staring at you from the living room. Trying not to look like the most guilty human on earth, you ducked your head and quickly made your retreat to the bathroom. Neither of you said a word as you brushed your teeth together, sneaking playful glances at each other in the mirror. 

By the time you had both showered - Josh first and then you second - and changed into your clothes for the day, it was 9:30. You both found the dining room table hosting his entire family and enough breakfast food piled on top of the worn wood to satisfy a small army. 

The two spots that they saved for you were next to each other, so you settled in and tried to prepare for the most awkward meal of your life thus far. 

“You almost made it to the end,” Jake quipped, apparently happy as hell to deliver the first blow. 

You watched Josh’s eyes flick up at him, delivering him a chilly look. 

“Okay, it wasn’t really a secret before, but it’s definitely not anymore,” Jake finished, rolling his eyes as the bowl of scrambled eggs was passed to him. 

Josh poured himself a glass of orange juice and then gestured for your glass too. “If I were in the living room last night, Santa wouldn’t have come. Really, you have me to thank for the gifts you receive today.” He finished filling your glass and set the carton back down before continuing. “And I’ll take that thank you in the form of you shutting up and minding your own business.”  

 Jake snorted a laugh as he dished himself out some breakfast. He opened his mouth to tease Josh further, but when he looked up and met your eyes, he let the next remark die on his lips - instead just settling for a smug smirk. 

No one mentioned anything else about it, but as the meal went on, you realized that you really had nothing to be ashamed of. You brushed your fingers against Josh’s under the table and then let him lace them together as his sister was telling a story about the best gift she’d ever received. You didn’t share a look with him, but you didn’t have to as his thumb swiped over the top of your hand, over and over. 

After breakfast was eaten and presents were opened, Josh found you on your way out of the restroom and motioned for you to follow him to his room. 

“I have something for you,” he started as he took your hand and sat you on the bed. You crossed your hands in your lap, settling into your spot with a smile. He closed the door behind him and then lifted the bag he’d packed from home onto the dresser. 

He pulled out a little box like a magician would pull a rabbit from his hat, and then held it out for you to take. 

“It really isn’t much, because we obviously don’t have a lot of money, but after what you did for Penny- Well. I wanted to do something meaningful too,” he explained sheepishly. 

The box was wrapped in mint green foil and marked with your name on a brown paper tag. 

You took a lot of care removing the wrapping, and gently opened the top of the box as you held his eyes. 

Inside was a 4-inch terra cotta pot, decorated with delicately painted sunflowers on a white background.

“It’s obviously not perfect-” he started, but you didn’t let him finish before you set the pot on his bedspread and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“It’s perfect,” you stated simply. 

+++

He slept with you again that night, this time sparing any sneaky behavior - and this time, when the two of you emerged from his room, no one even batted an eye. It took you only a few moments to pack your things up, but over an hour to say all of your goodbyes. 

You watched as his mother hugged him again, just like she had when he’d arrived - tightly, like she could barely stand to let him leave. This time, she hugged you too, nearly just as warmly. 

Josh helped you get your bags into the trunk of your car, being decidedly less gentle with Jake’s belongings, and the two of you crawled into the front seats as Jake was ribbing his much taller younger brother at the front door. 

“Hey, I got you this. I looked it up on my phone and the wiki page said I could just rip it off, so I did,” he explained as he placed a long arm of the Christmas cactus into your lap. 

You look at it for a long moment, your chest feeling tight. 

He must have mistaken your silence for apprehension, because he continued on, letting a concerned tone shade his words. “It said it wouldn’t hurt the plant and that it would eventually just grow roots. Is that right? So you can have one of your own, you know? Since you liked it so much. You could even use the little pot.”

You let your eyes meet his as you tried to choke back the feeling in your throat that was threatening tears. Embarrassingly, your voice was a little shaky when you stated, “I love you too.”

He looked completely stunned, but he only had a moment to fix his expression before Jake was opening the back door and sliding effortlessly in. 

“You guys good to go?” Jake asked as he leaned forward and snatched the aux cable from where it was rested on the center console. 

You gave Josh an expectant smile, but when it was clear that he wasn’t going to respond, you leaned over and pressed a kiss against his lips, prompting him to say through a beaming grin, “Let’s go home.”  

[lockefanfic]

White Silk

Parts One, Two, and Three of this series of oneshots.

-

There were only few moments in your life when you truly cared about the weather.

Once when your much-anticipated camping trip was spent inside your tents hiding from a torrential downpour. Another time when your apartment’s air conditioning broke down during an unprecedented heat wave. A final time when icy roads brought you close to you wrapping your car around a tree.

This was another one of those moments. Outside, what seemed like the storm of the century battered the building relentlessly, turning the day into a dark, stormy mess.

Inside, however, Lee Jieun somehow still managed to shine.

She was utterly beautiful - no, beautiful seemed inadequate to describe the sight. She stands with her back half turned to you, her perfect silhouette framed by the window. And while it is dark and stormy outside, she somehow still manages to glow, her very presence seeming to battle against the gloom that pervaded the rest of the day, seeming to defy it, seeming to tell it “No, your rain and clouds will not dim my brightness.”

She turns when you enter the room - and time slows to a crawl. It was like one of those moments in the movies when the female lead meets the male lead for the first time. As she turns her head, her hair, unstyled and seemingly also unbrushed but somehow still flawless, whips carelessly over her bare shoulder, almost as if in slow motion - a shampoo commercial come to life. 

Wrapped around her lithe, thin frame is a white silk dress. Made of the finest of materials and woven by the most talented of seamstresses, it is almost a work of art in and of itself - but without the young woman on whom it draped it is little more than a useless scrap of overpriced fabric. No, the woman made the dress, and not the other way around. It is she that makes the dress beautiful.

From the second you met her so many years ago you’d thought she was the most beautiful woman you’d ever met - but right now, as a bride on her wedding day, you knew she’d never been more beautiful. All women are beautiful - but on their wedding day they glow just a little brighter.

Jieun’s eyes meet yours. A glimpse of a surprised reaction - one she quickly hides. She opens her mouth to speak, and you expect some eloquent, powerful observation on the storm raging outside, and how it will not affect her spirits.

“I need some fucking alcohol,” she spits.

You smirk a little at her first words of the day to you. She looked like a princess, but sometimes she had the tongue of a sailor.

“Sorry,” you answer as you step towards her, “there’s no bar on the premises, unfortunately, although I hear the reception will have one. Cash bar, though, so best hit up an ATM before arriving.”

Jieun sighs and returns her attention to staring out the window. You feel the room get a little dimmer as she takes her attention away from you.

“Of course not. Nothing today can go right, apparently.”

You stand beside her, staring out the same window at the angry grey skies and the seemingly endless torrential downpour.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she says after a few shared seconds watching the raindrops trace random patterns on the glass.

“You’re not exactly kicking me out.”

Jieun scoffs. “Well everything else today is going horribly wrong so yeah, why the hell not have you show up?”

“What else is going wrong, exactly?”

“The photographer came down with a cold, so the best we can muster is my cousin and his fucking iPhone. The hair and makeup artist I hired is stuck in traffic on the other side of the city and probably won’t make it here on time, which is why I currently look like a fucking college student on the wrong end of a weed bender. The florist thought the wedding was tomorrow, so the only flowers we have are those sad looking almost-dead bouquets from the fucking gas station. Oh, and the reception hall had a goddamn double booking and neglected to tell us that the banquet hall won’t be available until 10pm, once the fucking high school math olympics has finished its awards ceremony!”

You frown. There wasn’t really much you could do to ameliorate the situation.

“Clusterfuck and a half,” you state.

“Clusterfuck and three quarters,” she counters, “coming real close to two full clusterfucks. Compared to all the bullshit that’s already gone down today, yeah, fuck it, you may as well be here, even when you very clearly shouldn’t be. I’m getting married today, if you didn’t notice.”

You glance over to her for the first time, and even though she is currently wearing a frown on her cute little features, you are nonetheless still struck by her beauty. Such a cheesy thing to admit to - being awestruck by a woman. It was something that surely only happened in books and movies and on Netflix; surely in real life no woman could ever be so beautiful as to render a man temporarily physically paralyzed.

But Lee Jieun had a way of doing that to you. She did it when she walked into the busy downtown Korean barbeque place that your mutual friend had dragged her to on that fateful day so many years ago. She did it when she just so happened to sit next to you, and again when she reached out her slim, pale hand and introduced herself with a cute handshake and a blinding smile. 

And she did it every single day you’d met her since. Today was no different, even if it was one of the most important days of her life.

“I overheard one of the bridesmaids saying you weren’t doing so well,” you say. “I had to make sure you were going to make it up the aisle.”

“Well I feel nauseous as fuck at the moment so I might make it up there only to barf all over the goddamn groom when I get to the altar.”

“What a lucky guy.”

“Damn straight. He gets to spend his entire life boning this hot piece,” she says with an exaggerated flourish of her hand over her body that was more sarcastic than serious, a deadpan frown on her face.

“I’m jealous,” you say.

Jieun buries her face in her hands, where she lets out a long sigh.

“Are you sure you don’t have a shot of soju in your jacket or something?”

“No,” you say. “I do have these, though.”

“I swear to god if you’re referring to your balls I’m gonna punch-”

When she lifts her head from her hands, she finds you with your arms wide open and the cheesiest of smiles on your face.

It begins slowly - just a slight crack of an upward tilt at the corners of her mouth, like a small ray of light piercing dark clouds. Eventually her soft pink lips and cute cheeks follow suit, and soon the metaphorical clouds part, her face surrendering to the reluctant smile and short chuckle that she allows to escape her mouth along with an adorable little snort.

She steps forward into your embrace, and you wrap your arms tightly around each other.

“You’ve always been there for me,” she says, her words muffled by your chest.

“I always will be.”

“Even when I’m married?”

“Especially when you’re married. Married guys can be dicks.”

Jieun chuckles again, and the soft vibration of her laugh against your chest makes your heart sing. She presses herself closer against you, as though she were fleeing from the accumulating problems of the day and had just found a hiding spot in your arms.

“How much time do I have?” she asks, barely audible.

“About an hour or so, I’d say,” you reply. Only a few of the guests had arrived and the groomsmen and bridesmaids were occupied with putting out the myriad of little fires that came up during weddings. There was still some time to yourselves before the start of the show.

“Then kiss me,” she says, lifting her head from your chest.

Time slows again. Time moves slowly, almost incrementally slowly, as you bend your head to kiss her.

It felt so wrong, so dangerous - but it also felt so right, so perfect. You should not have been there, not on her wedding day, mere minutes before she was to walk down the aisle. You could have, and perhaps should have, been anywhere but here.

But Jieun had always had that hold over you. You didn’t think yourself whipped for any other woman in your life, but when Jieun called you answered - no questions asked. You hated yourself for it sometimes, hated that a woman could have such overwhelming control over you, could have you wrapped around her finger like she did. 

But one smile - and sometimes, one kiss - was all it took to remind you why you did it: you were in love with her.

The kiss deepens, becoming something more passionate, more needy. Tongues begin to explore familiar mouths and find their counterparts willing and ready to touch and taste. Hands tighten around torsos. Hips press against hips. The bride tries to find solace from a day of ruined plans in the kiss and embrace of a man that meant so much to her.

You are happy to leave it there - merely seeing her was already probably a mistake - but Jieun was never one to stop things she had started. She breaks the kiss and pulls at the back of your head until your mouth is on her neck, and you begin devouring the sweet, pale flesh there with your hungry lips and tongue. She cranes her neck up and back, offering up more of herself to you.

Her hands slip between your bodies to work at your belt, which she quickly undoes.

“Here..?” you manage to gasp in between kisses. She was taking your breath away, again, although this time for another reason.

“Here,” she snaps, as though she were surprised you would even dare to ask, “Everything else is going wrong. I need this now. I need you now. Fuck me like you always do. One last time.”

Before you could say anything further she has you out of your boxers, her slim fingers suddenly cold and chilly around your quickly hardening shaft. Soon she has you at full stiffness. It doesn’t take you long. It never did. Especially not now, given the circumstances. Given the knowledge that the hand wrapped around your shaft and pumping it up and down would soon have a shiny diamond ring on it for the rest of her life.

You groan into her neck as the pleasure she is conjuring inside your body begins to overtake your senses. You feel her cheeks move against the side of your face - a wicked smile on an angel’s lips.

You are content to let her have her way with you, but you are reminded of her request - to fuck her the way you always did. And when you fucked, you were the one in control. Her innocent, girl-next-door exterior belied the fact that she loved to be taken, loved to be called names and used - and you weren’t one to disappoint her, even today, on this most important of days. You hated yourself sometimes for how much control she had over you in your day-to-day life; but you relished the fact that in your most intimate moments the roles were very much reversed.

You bring your hands to her shoulders and turn her around until she is facing the wall. She lets out a gasp of surprise - one that turns into a low moan as you press yourself, and your stiff shaft, against her. She braces herself against the glass, her forearms and palms flat against it.

Your hands, still on her shoulders, trace the top edge of the perfect white dress wrapped around her like a second skin. When they reach the front of her dress, you grasp the top edge and pull downward.

Jieun gasps as you pull the dress down to expose her breasts, and you grin devilishly over her shoulder as you watch her reflection in the glass as her small, perfect round mounds bounce free from their silk prison. Before she can react further your hands are already on them, squeezing them none too gently, enjoying the feel of her body molding itself into your hands, her already stiffened nipples poking between your fingers.

“You gonna let me fuck you on your wedding day, Jieun?” you hiss into her ear.

“Fuck yes,” she hisses, her breath a mist upon the glass, “I want you to fuck me right fucking now.”. She reaches down, pulling her long, flowing skirt up to bunch it around her waist. It takes her a while - her skirt is so long - but soon the pale, perfect round cheeks of her pert little ass are laid bare, your cock pressing impatiently against her lower back. 

You smirk at the sight of her, the perfect little bride on her wedding day, now a wanton, needy little thing, begging for it, begging to be fucked in a dress that was supposed to symbolize her innocence with its pure color. She wasn’t even wearing underwear, as though she knew this would happen, was expecting to be fucked wearing this dress.

“Fuck me,” she snaps, as though every moment you kept her waiting was making her more and more upset. “Fuck me please. I’m so wet for you.”

“Such a slutty little bride,” you observe. ‘So wet and hot already, and I’ve barely touched you.” You pinch her nipples. She sighs. You grin at the sight of her in her pristine white dress, an angel engaged in an act that was not at all angelic.

“Fuck yes. I’m such a slut. Such a slutty little bride. Now fuck me!”

“You want to get fucked against this glass in your pretty little white wedding dress?”

“Mmmm!” Jieun gasps, every sound that leaves her throat dripping now with need, “Please, fuck me now. Fuck this bride’s tight little pussy until you cum in it.”

You let go of her breasts, but not before giving her stiff nubs one last pinch that elicits a sharp gasp from her throat. Your right hand drifts to your cock, you line up your tip with her entrance, and within moments you slip inside Lee Jieun’s body.

You’d had her plenty of times, but today is different - and you wonder if perhaps the circumstances and the sheer audacity of what you were doing somehow added to the way she felt around you. She was slick and hot and wet and so, so very tight. It almost drove you insane to be inside her. Judging by the way her fingers curled against the hard glass, seeking something to claw into as she is filled with your cock - Jieun felt the same.

“Fuck,” she hisses, the curse word leaving her mouth in a breathy sigh. You both take a moment to savor the sensations - hers of being filled, yours of her wet, hot body wrapping itself around your stiff, aching shaft.

You don’t waste any time. You had little to waste, nor did you have any desire to deny yourself the pleasure her body promised. When you withdraw your shaft from between her round cheeks to find it glistening with her juices, you quickly drive yourself back in - this time to the hilt.

Soon you are fucking Lee Jieun against the glass, her naked breasts pressed against it, stiff nipples crushed against the cold surface as she is taken roughly, your cock pumping in and out of her wet, slick pussy at a frantic pace. 

If she had problems with the liberties you were taking on her body she was not showing it. Her reactions told you much the opposite - that she loved each thrust into her needy pussy, loved feeling you piston in and out of her at the quick, hard pace you had set for yourselves.

“Oh my… oh my fucking god,” she hisses, her face pressed now against the glass, a soft mist forming on it with each hot breath that leaves her lips. “Fuck me, fuck me like this.”

You are almost afraid to look down, almost afraid to watch your cock pump in and out of her needy body - but you eventually tear your eyes from her pleasure-stricken face to glance down between your torsos.

Her juices are flowing freely, lathering your stiff shaft with a thick sheen of her slick, glistening  wetness. Her lips grip every inch of your shaft, parting softly to welcome it in with each thrust, grasping it tightly with each withdrawal as though not wanting to let it go. You reach down and squeeze her tight little ass with both hands, filling your hands with her cheeks, parting them slightly to give you a better view of each thrust of your cock into her slick, wet pussy.

“Oh… oh fuck!” she gasps as you reach a new depth, bottoming out your thrusts now as you fill her with every inch of you, filling the mewling young bride as deeply as you could with stiff cock. 

“Fucking take my cock, Jieun,” you snap, bringing your hand up to her chin to tilt it toward you. “Fucking take it.”

“Y-yes! Fuck me… I’m yours. I’m yours!”

The filth of her words, of her submission to you, would have been pleasurable any other time. But now, mere minutes from her marriage - it meant something more, something more perverse - and something more deliciously sinful.

You reach around her torso to grasp a round breast with your free hand, finding her stiff nipple and teasing it at first before pinching and twisting the sensitive bud. You turn her face toward you with the hand on her chin, wanting to watch as every thrust into her body twisted her small, adorable face with little spasms of pleasure. For a few long, delicious minutes you fuck the mewling, squirming young bride against the glass, the pleasure you both found in each others’ bodies far outweighing the filthy wickedness of your act.

“Is your husband going to fuck you like this every single day? Fuck your needy, slutty little pussy whenever he wants?”

“Y-yes!” she manages to gasp, her words interrupted by each thrust of your cock into her juicy pussy, “Yes… whenever… wherever… however he wants!”

“And you want my cum dripping down your legs while you walk down the aisle? While you get married?”

“Yes! Oh fuck please I want it, I want your cum inside me, I want it dripping out of my pussy oh please oh fuck, cum inside me oh fuck cum inside me please, fill my pussy, fill me with cum, fuck me, fuck me, oh, oh I’m cumming, oh--!”

You always dreaded Jieun’s orgasm during sex, because it was so powerful, so overwhelming -  not only for her, but for the both of you. And it usually meant that you came soon after.

Jieun turns into a mewling, quivering mess of flesh, held up against the glass only by your hands on her chin and breast - and the cock still pistoning in and out of her pulsating pussy. You fuck her through her orgasm even as you feel your own beckoning, concentrating on each thrust, pushing yourself as deep as you can inside the young bride before pulling out only far enough to thrust right back inside her.

The random pulsating of her slick pussy, the wordless cries of pleasure brought upon her by her orgasm, and the soft breast in your hand - it all combined to push you dangerously close to the edge. But the thought of it - of fucking this needy young woman mere moments before her wedding - and at her demand, no less - it pushed you right over it.

You push yourself as deep inside her as you can go before you finally allow your orgasm to overtake your senses. Your mind tunnels, becoming focused solely on your pulsating cock as it spurts hot, thick semen deep inside Jieun’s tightly gripping pussy. The bride gasps - a soft, lustful sound - with each rope of cum that splashes into her depths, each stream further adding to the mess you’d made inside her body.

You both spend a long minute trying your best to piece your realities back together after your respective orgasms have shattered it, both reduced to heavily breathing, barely standing masses of suddenly weak flesh. It was a quick little session - not more than a few minutes from her first kiss to your mutual orgasm - but it still left you both exhausted, chests heaving in an attempt to refill lungs drained of air.

You reach up, tilt her chin to yours once more, and you give her a kiss - one that was more affectionate than perhaps either of you were ready for, but one you find her returning willingly and passionately.

Slowly you draw your softening shaft out of her body, and Jieun tries her best to clean herself up and look presentable, doing her best to look as though she didn’t just have rough sex minutes before walking down the aisle.

There is a knock on the door. It opens just wide enough for the maid of honor to poke her head inside - and you are thankful that she didn’t decide to do so a few minutes earlier, lest she catch you fucking the bride against the glass. She gives you a quizzical look.

“Isn’t it bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding?” she asks.

“I think we’ve used up all our bad luck for today, Nayeon,” Jieun answers. “What’s a little more bullshit on top of the shit sundae that is our wedding plans?”

Nayeon frowns, confused by the bride’s nonchalance towards the day’s ruined plans. “Aish. Anyway, the makeup lady is here. And one of the groomsmen managed to track down a photographer. One of you should talk to him.”

“Thank you, Nayeon. We’ll just be a few minutes,” you reply.

The maid of honor gives you both a look before she closes the door behind her.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” Jieun says.

“Me neither.”

“I’ll see you up there. You’re walking down that aisle first. Try not to trip.”

“Try not to drip.”

Jieun gives you a punch in the arm, but her hand lingers there for a moment, before sliding down and grasping your hand in hers.

“I love you,” she says.

“And I, you,” you reply. 

You kiss her, and the peck on the lips turns into a soft but passionate kiss. She gives one last look out the window and the cloudy, stormy weather that continued unabated outside, although it all seemed to matter a little less to the both of you.

“Let’s go get married,” she says, the smile on her lips all the sunshine you ever needed.

-

Author’s Note: Short but hopefully sweet. :) I had to sneak in an “I, you” (IU) reference in there somewhere lol.

So I felt kind of bad about the way Green Silk ended and wanted to have a similar twist but this time with a happy ending lol. Also lol at maid of honor Nayeon, I bet being IU’s maid of honor would be a dream come true for her haha.

[makoodlesarchive]

bad dragon

here i am delivering content that NO ONE ASKED FOR !! this is nasty and i got super embarrassed just writing it but i hope you enjoy it anyway

honestly no one look at me, just let me indulge in this in peace

pairing: kirishima eijirou x fem!reader

word count: 10k

warnings: blowjobs, penetrative sex, virgin kirishima, lots of cum (like, a ridiculous amount), breeding (kinda), size kink?. it’s not exactly anthro bc everyone is human here but uhh non-standard genitals, i guess? kirishima has an unusual dick: pls see here for reference      OR     check out the amazing fanart for kiri’s dick !!

Tip Jar!

  dragon dick kiri masterlist!

                            »»————-　♡　————-««

Kirishima Eijirou was a perfect gentleman. He bought you flowers, he opened doors for you, he gave the sweetest goodnight kisses, he ate you out so good he had you seeing stars. You had the biggest, fattest crush on him, and you would be embarrassed about it if it weren’t for the fact that it seemed, at least for the most part, to be reciprocated.

The problem was Kirishima never let you touch him.

Whenever the two of you ended up in bed together, with the door firmly locked behind you, Kirishima insisted on sliding under the blankets and eating you out so enthusiastically he had your legs shaking in no time. It’s not like you would ever complain about that, but it definitely bothered you that he was never up for doing anything else. You would see the blanket shifting around as he jerked himself off furiously under the sheets as he tongue-fucked you, but whenever you tried to coax him out from beneath the sheets you were turned down with a soft, apologetic little smile.

You figured it must have something to do with his apparent commitment issues. Everytime you brought up the possibility of being a couple, or anything more than what you currently were (which, tragically, was nothing; just two friends occasionally getting hot and heavy) he brushed you off or changed the subject with a beautifully sunny smile and a laugh, so bright and cheery that you were successfully diverted every single time.

And it was fine, really. You liked Kirishima a lot, so you were totally willing to put up with a few odd idiosyncrasies. And okay, sure, if you were being totally honest with yourself, of course you wanted to be more than friends that flirt and kiss and mess around a bit. You couldn’t even technically call each other fuck buddies because he wouldn’t fuck you. But he was so sweet, and so handsome and kind and his tongue was so so good, that you would take whatever you could get from him. 

At least, that was until one afternoon.

April had brought with it blue skies and sun showers and warm breezes, and as the weather begins to improve your friends take to lounging out the front of the apartment complex. After graduating, renting places in the same neighbourhood just seemed like the next logical step. On days like this, where you all come together just to chill out in front of the complex, it seems like the best idea in the world. As you watch Kirishima chase Kaminari around the lawn, the two of them howling with laughter, something a little wistful twists in your stomach. It’s a familiar feeling, easy enough to shove away normally, but today for some reason you just feel… melancholy.

Maybe that’s why you do something you would never normally do. You turn to Bakugou, who’s aggressively chewing on candy as though it insulted his mother, and say, “Hey, um. Does Kirishima… does Kirishima ever talk about me?”

Bakugou’s jaw stills, and he turns his head very slowly to look at you. He looks mildly disbelieving, which is understandable. The two of you get along just fine, but you’ve never asked him anything personal before. “Why the fuck are you asking me that?” he demands through a mouthful of half-chewed toffee.

You shrug jerkily, suddenly mortified. Why are you asking something like that of Bakugou, of all people? “Never mind.” you say quickly, praying that he’ll just let it go and you can both move on and forget that you had ever asked such an embarrassing question.

A silence stretches between the two of you, long and taut, broken only by Mina giggling as she shows Sero something on her phone a few metres away. You could curse yourself for making things awkward between the two of you when you had been on relatively good terms, but then Bakugou turns to look at you so abruptly that you startle a little. “Look,” he says, jaw working absently as he chews his candy. “He likes you just fine, okay. Why aren’t you having this conversation with him, huh?”

You can’t quite meet Bakugou’s eyes. You don’t know how he can be so forthright all the time. “Um. I’ve tried, but he always changes the subject.”

Bakugou swears softly, glaring out across the lawn at Kirishima as he chases Kaminari, throwing grapes at his back. “I ain’t a relationship counsellor, okay? I get that it must be hard that he doesn’t cum when he’s with you or whatever, but you seriously need to work that out with him. What am I meant to do about it?”

“Right,” you wince, your body hot with embarrassment. Your mind sticks on something he just said though, and you turn back slowly to frown at him. “He… he doesn’t cum?”

“Hah?” Bakugou scowls at you, clearly annoyed that you’re still having this conversation. You’re not about to let up though, because you hadn’t known that.

“I-I didn’t realise that he didn’t-?” you trail off, mortified and horrified in equal measures. You had assumed all those times that he was jerking off under the sheets that he was getting himself off but just didn’t want you to see. You had never questioned the lack of mess because as soon as you were done he always left for the bathroom, returning a few minutes later with damp towels to clean you up with -- you had assumed he cleaned himself up in those moments of absence. How the fuck had you never noticed?  Why did Bakugou know when you didn’t? Oh god, had he and Kirishima talked about this?

Bakugou’s expression shifts as he apparently realises that he had just revealed something you hadn’t been aware of. “Oh.” he says, and his annoyance seems to have evaporated, only to be replaced by an intense discomfort. “Well. It’s not that big a deal, or whatever. I’m sure he still, uh, enjoys himself- fucking hell, can we stop talking about this?”

“Yeah.” you say a little numbly. You feel so stupid. Why had he never said anything to you? You had been under the assumption that he liked you back, but maybe you were totally mistaken. Maybe seeing your naked body turned him off to the point that he couldn’t actually cum even if hidden under the sheets and not looking at you. Maybe he never actually wanted to do any of that with you in the first place. There’s a stinging pressure building in the back of your eyes, and you have to look down at your lap and blink hard to stop yourself from doing something stupid like bursting into tears in front of Bakgou -- you don’t think either of you would live that down. “Uh. I think I’m gonna head up to my room, I’m really tired.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened a little, “Wait, are you-”

“I’ll see you later,” you smile and try to keep your voice as normal as possible, but even you can hear how forced you sound. You stand quickly and brush yourself off before heading back inside; you have to consciously slow your pace so that it doesn’t look like you’re running away, because you really don’t put it past Bakugou not to chase you down for cutting him off like that.

You bump into Jirou on the stairs and babble out an apology, escaping back upstairs to your apartment before she can ask you if you’re okay. The last thing you need is an audience for your imminent breakdown, but thankfully you don’t see a single other person on the way to your place. You shut the door to your room tight and lean your forehead against it to take a deep breath. It doesn’t do much to calm you down, so you turn and make a beeline straight for the bed. Throwing yourself dramatically on top of your bed covers feels a little cathartic, so you allow yourself the luxury of being dramatic as you bury your face into your arms and sigh. 

God, you wish Kirishima would have just talked to you instead of grinning that stupidly bright smile of his and changing the subject anytime you tried to talk or ask about the thing the two of you had together. At least then you would have been able to deal with any upset that may have been caused by that conversation by yourself, and you wouldn’t have had to get all upset in front of one of Kirishima’s best friends. God, how were you ever gonna look at Bakugou again?

You know that stewing by yourself like this isn’t going to help sort this situation out, but you just can’t find the energy to start thinking about what you’re going to do next. You don’t want to start thinking about that at all. You just need some time to yourself, just a little while to relax and breathe and just not think because if you start thinking you’re pretty sure you’re going to cry. You feel impossibly stupid.

When you hear a knock coming from the door, you want to bang your head off the wall. You can’t imagine anything worse than having to talk to someone and pretend that everything is fine right now.

“Y/N? Hey, is everything alright? Bakugou said you ran off.”

Aw, shit. Maybe you can imagine something worse.

You sit up sharply, staring at the door. This was so typical. Of all the people in the building, Kirishima is the last person you want to talk to right now. So of course it stands to reason that he would be the one to follow you straight to your apartment. “Everything’s fine,” you call back quickly, trying hard to sound like you meant it, “Hey, I’m just tired right now. Can we talk later?”

“Bakugou said you were upset.”

That traitor. You clench your jaw and scowl at the wall. “I’m-”

“I’m coming in, okay?”

“Wha-?” you stand up quickly, but Kirishima is already coming in and closing the door behind him. “Kirishima, I don’t-”

“Okay look, Bakugou said you were upset with me and I’m really, really sorry,” Kirishima blurts quickly, hands up in the air as if he’s being held at gunpoint, “He’s actually pretty annoyed at me right now, but he’s right, and-”

“I’m not-” you start, then pause to gather your thoughts. Bakugou was right, especially when he said you had to talk. And it was important this time that you didn’t let Kirishima divert you like he had been doing. “It’s not that I’m upset with you. Not really. I just- what are we even doing?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, so softly that it’s almost a whisper.

“I-” you swallow hard, brace yourself, “I really like you. I like spending time with you, and I’ve told you, or at least tried to, that I’d really like to, well, be- um, be more than whatever this is. And obviously I would totally get if you don’t want that, a relationship and stuff, but I want you to just tell me! Just say it, instead of changing the subject.”

“Wait, baby, please.” Kirishima steps forward quickly and stops just short of touching you, a bare few inches between you. “I like you so much, I never wanted you to feel this way. I just- it’s difficult to explain-”

“Do you...” you start to say, then sigh. You can’t believe you’re actually going to ask this, because it makes you sound so desperate, but you really need to hear him say it, “Do you not find me attractive?”

Kirishima makes a startled choking sound, “Wha-? Are you kidding? I find you so attractive! You’re so pretty, and your body is- is really nice, why would you think-”

“You never look at me when we’re in bed and-” you start fidgeting, horribly awkward. “I just want to be able to touch you.”

Kirishima steps forward, closing the distance between you and dropping to one knee. “Baby, I’ll do whatever you want,” he says, his hands coming to rest on your hips as his thumbs stroke circles into your skin. “You want me to touch you?”

“No.” you squeeze your eyes shut in frustration, realising that he had misunderstood. “I mean. Bakugou told me that you never cum when we’re together.”

When you open your eyes again, you see that Kirishima has gone stock still. His mouth is a little open, and you can see his throat working as he seems to fight for something to say. Very slowly, he gets back to his feet. “He shouldn’t have said that.”

You stare at him, at a loss. “Is it because-” you start, then trail off as you realise that you don’t even know what you’re trying to ask. You just want him to start talking so that you can stop asking all these stupid questions. “If you don’t want to have sex with me, you only have to say so, I would never pressure you into-”

“No!” Kirishima blurts, jolting forward. The suddenness of the movement seems to startle the both of you, but Kirishima recovers faster. “God, no, that’s not what this is!”

“Then, why?” you whisper, thoroughly confused. You had hoped that talking it out would help get some answers, but if anything you’re even more confused and insecure than you had been before he came to your room. “Did I- I mean, if I’m doing something that’s-”

“It’s not you.” Kirishima interrupts, covering his eyes with one of his large palms and leaning away from you. His hand is trembling a little, almost imperceptibly. “It’s not you. It’s me.”

The statement hangs in the air between the two of you like it’s a tangible presence. You stare hard at Kirishima, but he doesn’t remove his hand from his face. He looks a bit like he’s going to be sick. “What do you mean?” you ask quietly.

You’re guessing that this is where you get the ‘You’re great and all but I’m just not ready for a relationship. It’s got nothing to do with you though, I need to work through my own stuff’ sort of speech, and you have to brace yourself for it. Instead, Kirishima says something that you had not prepared yourself to hear in the slightest.

“I’m sorry.” you say, a little bewildered. You’re certain that you heard that wrong. “Could you- could you say that again?”

A flush has begun to crawl steadily across Kirishima’s face, made all the more prominent by the contrast of his hand pressed to his eyes. His ears are so red that they blend right into his hair. “I said,” he says, then takes an inhale, “That you’ll break up with me if you see my dick.”

You don’t actually know how to begin replying to that. For one, breaking up would require you to be in a relationship, which is something that he has been avoiding for a while now. You decide to address the bigger problem first. “Why would I want to break up because of your dick? Why would you even think that? Do you think I’m that shallow?”

“It’s got nothing to do with you being shallow,” Kirishima says slowly. You get the impression that he’s measuring his words, and his uncharacteristic reticence has you on edge. “It’s just that- I’m not, well, normal.”

You stare at him, a little taken aback. Kirishima had always had some issues with self-confidence, ever since middle school, but you’d always thought he’d worked through that in UA. You had never heard him talk about himself like this. “What’s that supposed to mean? Eijirou, lots of people are self-conscious about what they have going on downstairs. It doesn’t mean-”

“No, you don’t get it,” he interrupts. His hands have started twisting up the hem of his shirt, wringing it out and wrinkling the material. He’s frowning, and clearly starting to get agitated. “It’s not that I’m self-conscious about it- well, I am self-conscious about it, I guess, but it’s for a reason! I mean it, it’s not exactly… standard.”

Your face scrunches up in a frown before you can stop it. Not standard? “You’re worried it’s too small?” You guess. Your gaze drops to the crotch of his pants, where he’s subconsciously folded his hands. “Too big?”

“Um.” Kirishima lets out a nervous little laugh, several octaves higher than normal. “Yeah, I guess. It’s… it looks weird.”

“Eijirou,” your voice is soft now, most of your frustration melted away by the sight of Kirishima’s anxious fidgeting, “We live in a world where physical mutations are the norm; you really don’t have anything to worry about.” You pause for a moment, but Kirishima doesn’t respond immediately. The silence builds, until you try to break it with a light-hearted, “How weird can it be, really?”

Kirishima’s throat works as he swallows hard, but he’s nodding so you at least know that he’s listening. When he does speak, his voice is so low that you have to lean closer to him to catch what he’s saying. “I just don’t want to ruin this.”

Your heart twists, and the last of your frustration straight up disappears. You take a breath to steady yourself, then step forward and place your hands gently on his chest. A tremor works its way up his spine at your touch, but you don’t remark on it. “Kirishima.” you say firmly, and when he looks up and makes eye contact you try to keep your gaze as strict as possible. “You really have no idea how much I like you, do you? God, I like you so much, it’s stupid. I’ve wanted to be with you for so long. I mean, even if you never wanted to have sex I would understand, so long as you talked to me about it. Your dick is not gonna stop me from liking you, idiot.”

The fear of rejection is still plain to see on Kirishima’s face, but there’s something lurking just underneath that looks like hope. “I’ve never… I’ve never been with anyone like that.”

“You haven’t?” you ask, genuinely surprised. Not only is Kirishima perfectly sweet, he’s also extremely attractive. As an up-and-coming sidekick in Fatgum’s hero agency, you knew that he had no shortage of admirers. Even before that, in UA, you knew there were always people who had their eyes on him. He was so bright, he was hard to miss. 

He laughs, scrubbing at his eyes with his knuckles. “Uh, no. I mean, I’m not totally inexperienced. I mean, I’ve done oral and stuff, and I think I’m actually pretty good at it-”

“You are definitely pretty good at it,” you chime in, nodding and trying not to laugh at the flush crawling up his neck.

“I enjoy it, too!” he says quickly, as though trying to reassure you, “I enjoy it a lot. But I’ve never- I mean, no one’s ever touched me like that.” You feel your mouth drop open in honest shock. A little part of you couldn’t help but feel reassured that it wasn’t you he had a problem with, but that was mostly drowned out by surprise. Kirishima rushes on before you can speak, as though trying to say his piece before he runs out of steam, “It’s not that I didn’t want to, it’s just that it’s never seemed worth the fallout. Especially with you. I’m happy with being with you in whatever way I can, and I don’t want my stupid dick to scare you off or-”

“Oh my god, Kirishima, stop,” you say, and this time you really can’t hold back your laugh. “Your stupid dick isn’t going to scare me off. God, I can’t believe this is why you never let me touch you.” you step closer and press a soft, close-mouthed kiss to his lips. You hadn’t realised just how tense Kirishima was until he relaxed a little into your touch, the stiffness in his shoulders easing out as he sighed into the kiss. You pull back just a little, just enough that you can give him a cheeky smile. “Want me to give you your first blowjob?”

Kirishima’s whole body tenses right back up as his eyes shoot wide in surprise. “What?” he squeaks out, his ears turning scarlet.

You take his hand in yours and tangle your fingers together, before tugging him gently towards the bed. “I want to,” you assure him quietly, “No matter what your dick looks like, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Kirishima says as he sits at the edge of the bed. He’s breathing a little faster now, either from excitement or nerves. You’re guessing it’s a bit of both, because he’s clinging on tight to your hand even though he looks like he’s about to bolt. When you hook your fingers around the waistband of his shorts, he catches one of your wrists with his free hand. “If you- you know, if you change your mind after seeing it, just know that I won’t be mad or anything.”

He’s so quiet and earnest that you feel your heart melt a little looking at his nervously hopeful eyes. You take your hand back and climb onto his lap, pushing your fingers into his wild mop of hair. It’s the first time you’ve ever been close with him like this -- usually he would give you a sweet, gentle kiss and then dive between your legs, always keeping a frustrating amount of distance between your lower halves. This time though, he doesn’t try to divert you away. His hands grip your hips tight, and he leans his head into your touch. “I wish you would stop expecting me to push you away.” you murmur into the side of his neck, peppering little kisses into his skin. Kirishima lets out the smallest, choked off sounding whine at that, and tilts his head so that the long line of his throat is exposed. You take the hint, and start trailing kisses all along the soft skin at the base of his neck. “I told you, and I meant it; I want to be with you.”

Strong arms wind their way around your back and pull you close until you’re sat right over Kirishima’s crotch. You don’t even think it was intentional on Kirishima’s part, but you won’t pass up the opportunity when it presents itself to you. His shorts are bulging a little right in the centre where he’s starting to get hard, and you lower yourself down so that you’re grinding over him. He gasps at the contact, and his hips jerk up into you. “Oh, shit. I want you, so badly.” he gasps, his forehead dropping down to rest on your shoulder.

You have to admit, what you can feel through his shorts is… intimidating. ‘Yeah, I guess,’ he had said when you asked him if he was worried about his dick being too big. Judging by what you could feel pressing against you, that was a massive understatement, and he was only half-hard. You ghost your hands down over his sides, feeling his ribs expand with his breaths, sliding down until your hands reach the waistband of his shorts again. You push them down over his hips, and he lifts himself up to help you, and then he’s just in his impressively tented jockstrap. You smile reassuringly at him as you tug down the jockstrap, and then his cock springs free of the waistband and you pause.

“Oh.” you breathe.

“I know that it’s-” Kirishima begins to visibly panic, his hand reflexively shooting down to try and cover himself as he tries to sit up.

“It’s okay.” you say quickly, recovering from your surprise as quickly as possible. You still feel a little off-kilter as you slide off his lap to your knees in front of him. You know that you’re staring at his cock wide-eyed, but you can’t quite help yourself. It’s… well. It’s definitely not standard.

You reach out, your hand hovering uncertainly over his cock because you barely know how to begin. It’s thicker than a soda can, and long. Delicate ridges and swirls decorate the underside, with a series of bumps along the top. When you finally do grasp him in your hand, you’re rewarded with a barely stifled gasp and a hot spurt of precum that dribbles down his cockhead to your fingers. You use both your hands to explore his length, fingers trailing over all those strange ridges. The bumps along the top are apparently sensitive, because when you rub your thumbs over them Kirishima gasps and his hips thrust gracelessly into the air.

“Sorry!” he blurts as his cock dribbles even more precum. There’s so much of it that it looks like you actually used lube or something to slick up his cock, but you guess that this must be normal for him because he just looks embarrassed. “I- it’s sensitive, I guess, um- I usually put down a towel, because I tend to get, uh, messy.”

The way he says that and the connotations of it has your thighs squeezing together, and you take a deep inhale through your nose. It’s unexpectedly hot. “Gotcha.” you smile at him, trying to put him at ease as you return your attention back to his dick. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind if you make a mess.”

“Oh, shit. Uh, okay.” Kirishima says, and his breathing has gotten noticeably heavier now. He’s almost panting as he leans back on his elbows, craning his neck so he can get a look at what you’re doing. There’s a curious swell around the base of his cock that just seems to be growing. One of your hands travels down to it curiously, splaying over it and then rubbing it at it experimentally. His hips rock forward sharply, a huff of breath leaving him as he grunts a muted, “Fuck!”

The precum is oozing almost continuously now, spilling over with nearly every stroke, and your rubbing at the swollen base seems to be pushing even more out. It’s obscene, the copious amount of it and the way it’s stringing down onto your hands. If this is the amount of precum he produces, you can hardly imagine the amount of cum he’s going to produce. You wonder if ‘messy’ is another understatement.

You finally lean forward and lick an experimental stripe up the underside of his cock, lapping at the ridges and swirls. The moan that’s ripped out of him is needy and so desperate -- his stomach muscles are tensed with the effort he’s putting in to keep from rocking into your mouth, but his cheeks are flushed and his own mouth is lolling open, his eyes squeezed shut. You take that as your cue to take all of him in your mouth as best as you can, suckling at the tip before swallowing him down. You get about halfway before you have to pull back and try again. Your mouth is stretched obscenely wide around the girth of him, and you swear you can feel the weight of his dick pulsing on your tongue.

“Oh god, oh baby, oh Y/N,” Kirishima is babbling nonsensically, his head thrown as his hips make the sweetest little aborted rocking motions, like he wants nothing more than to let go but is trying his best to restrain himself for your sake. “Feels so good.”

You suck him as best as you can, but your jaw is starting to ache from being hinged so wide. You alternate between stroking his length and suckling on the head of his dick, tracing the swirls and squeezing the bottom. The swell at the base of his cock has engorged even further, and you prod at it curiously with one hand as you work his length with the other. It’s firm but oddly spongey, and everytime you poke at it Kirishima’s whole cock twitches.

When he gasps out your name you pull back and look up at him. He’s trembling, his shirt rucked up past his bellybutton and his gaze fixed unwaveringly on you. “You okay?” you ask softly, rubbing your thumb along one of the ridges under the head of his dick.

“Yeah,” he breathes, reaching down to cup your face. His thumb swipes over your bottom lip, and you realise that a string of saliva and precum is dripping down your chin. “But if you keep going I’m gonna cum.”

“Isn’t that kind of the point?” you laugh, and press a kiss right on his slit. His hips twitch and you dodge backwards just in time to avoid him taking your eye out with his hard on. 

“Sorry!” he looks mortified, and you can’t help but find his nervous fumbling absolutely adorable.

“Don’t worry about it.” you smile as you kiss your way down his shaft, prepared now for the intermittent jerking of his hips. You get to that swollen part at the base and place your mouth right at the bottom of his cock, before wrapping your lips around it to the best of your ability and sucking.

You had guessed that this swollen area was sensitive thanks to his reactions earlier, but you’re not quite prepared for the shout he lets out or the way his hand grabs onto the side of your head as he damn near rides your mouth. You’re totally startled by the reaction, but given the amount of times that you’ve done the same to his mouth you’re only too happy to indulge him. Plus, it’s the first time you’ve ever seen Kirishima fall apart like this. His cock is dribbling precum at a rapid rate the more excited he gets, and thick strings of it are pouring onto your cheeks. You think you should probably feel a little grossed out, but seeing Kirishima open-mouthed and panting as he rides your face like he’s hasn’t got a single other thought in his mind has you so turned on that your panties are getting sticky and uncomfortable between your legs. You stick your own hand between your legs to try and relieve yourself of some of the heat coiling up in your stomach, but the way that Kirishima’s rutting into your face throws off your coordination.

“Oh god, please, baby, please, put it back in your mouth, I’m gonna- fuck, Y/N, I’m gonna cum, please-” He begs, his head thrown back as he gasps.

How could you ever deny him when he pleads like that? You pull your head out of his grasp and sink your mouth back down on his cock, and then you just hold there and breathe as steadily as you can as Kirishima’s cock throbs in your mouth. His hips spasm, pushing his cock further into your throat. It almost feels like he’s getting bigger, as if he’s growing down your throat.

Kirishima is still babbling, a steady stream of senselessness about how good you’re making him feel, how beautiful you are, how lucky he is, until he cuts himself off with a gasp of “Baby, I’m- I’m-” and then he’s silent, his mouth hanging open as his whole body strains.

You try to suck him through his orgasm, but you are utterly unprepared for the sheer quantity of cum that erupts from his dick. Despite your intentions, you have no choice but to pull off his cock, choking a little on the cum that actually managed to get up your nose. You stroke him through it, feeling dazed as you watch him cum. You know it’s dripping from your chin, running in rivulets down your face. You wonder if it’s coming out your nose.

Kirishima seems to come forever, humping into your fist and whining and moaning the whole time. When his cock finally gives its last, exhausted spurt, his body falls limp against the bed. He’s gasping for breath and staring at the ceiling, looking like his soul had been ejected from his body along with the insane amount of cum. You notice the swollen part at the base of his cock has deflated almost entirely, to the point that it’s hardly noticeable anymore.

You climb up on the bed beside him and nudge him with your knee, a little concerned. “Eijirou? You good?”

When he looks at you, there’s a goofy smile splitting his face. “I have never been so good in my whole life.” His smile freezes as he catches a proper look at your face, caught between surprise, embarrassment, and something else. He reaches out to your face and swipes his fingers through the mess on your face. “Oh god, I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t be!” you hasten to assure him, squeezing his wrists. “It was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen!”

Kirishima stares at you as though he almost doesn’t believe you, but his cum is painted across your face and dripping down your chest, so he’s not in the best position to argue. “I told you I tend to get messy.” he breathes out a laugh, and then leans forward to kiss you, apparently not caring about the taste of his own ejaculate.

You hum into his mouth, your thighs clenching in excitement. “Eijirou,” you whisper into the kiss. When he pulls back, you bite your lip and smile at him, “Next time, will you fuck me?”

Kirishima inhales sharply, and his grip on your hips tightens to the point that the pressure is near bruising. “You really want that?”

“God, yes.” you blurt, shifting so that you’re straddling his stomach. You lower yourself down so that you’re grinding against his bare skin, and you can see the exact moment that he realises you’ve soaked through your panties.

He groans, and pulls at your hips to encourage you to grind against his stomach harder. “Shit, sweetheart. You don’t think it’s… kind of gross?”

“I didn’t expect the amount of cum,” you confess, wiping at your face with a helpless laugh, “But no, I don’t think it’s gross. I like it.” You whimper as Kirishima’s thumb slides over your swollen clit, the glide made smooth thanks to the slickness of your own arousal.

Kirishima is looking up at you as though you had hung the moon, and it’s hard not to get a little embarrassed under the intensity of his gaze. “Okay,” he whispers, “If you’re sure.” He glances down with a small frown, his lips twisted thoughtfully, “I don’t want to hurt you, though.”

“You won’t.” you kiss his nose, grinning as it wrinkles up under your lips. “We’ll make sure I’m stretched.” you glance over your shoulder at his still wet, softening cock. Even now, the size of it is intimidating. “And lube,” you conclude, “We’ll use lots and lots of lube.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, a smile starting to light up his face. He presses a sloppy kiss to the base of your throat, and you can feel the smile against your skin, “Yeah, okay. I’d really like that.” There’s still cum everywhere, all over your hands and chest and face and splashed across Kirishima’s legs and stomach, but he doesn’t seem to care about the mess in the slightest as he rolls the two of you over so that he’s hovering over you. The kiss he presses to one of your breasts is impossibly soft, and you tilt your head back and sigh as you feel his fingers trace over the lips of your pussy. “I’m so lucky to have you.” he whispers, then pushes himself down your body.

As his tongue flicks over your clit, you smile. It’s definitely you that’s the lucky one here.

_________________________

Kirishima’s complicated relationship with his genitalia had started in middle school. Up until that point, he had managed to remain blissfully unaware that there was any kind of abnormality in his nether regions. That changed one day in the locker rooms.

Having never paid any particular attention to what he had in his pants, Kirishima hadn’t thought anything of changing out with the rest of the boys in his class, as unabashed as any middle-schooler that hadn’t developed a sense of self-consciousness yet. He didn’t notice the whispers or stares until one of his friends nudged him hard. “Dude,” he said, glancing between Kirishima’s legs and then away, curiosity and mild revulsion mingled on his face, “What’s wrong with your thingy?”

“Wrong?” Kirishima had echoed, discomfort beginning to prickle beneath his skin. He hadn’t realised there was anything wrong with his genitals. He covered up quickly and finished getting changed, but the stares lingered.

No one said anything more about it to him, but by the end of the day rumour had spread that Kirishima was weird down there.

He had, like so many boys his age, taken to the internet to do his own research. It felt like a punch to the gut when he realised that his classmates were right -- his dick looked nothing like the dicks that all the guys in the videos he found had. There were exceptions, where the person’s genitals were affected by their quirk, but they were always full-body quirks that made it pretty obvious that what you were gonna find down below would be non-standard. His genitals didn’t match his body or his quirk, so his classmates must be right when they say that he’s weird with those grossed-out little laughs.

He learned pretty quickly to keep that part of him to himself, to change out quickly and efficiently in such a way that no one would ever see the parts of him that he’d rather keep hidden. He welcomes physical contact because he’s still an affectionate guy, but he’s always careful about the distance he allows between himself and others just in case they brush up against him accidentally and somehow feel that he’s different. When the boys in his class start excitedly talking about girls and other boys, and how nice it’d be to have a girlfriend or boyfriend, Kirishima tries to stay out of it. He doesn’t want to wonder about something like that when he knows that if someone were to find out his secret they’d be totally grossed out.

High school comes hand in hand with experimentation though, and Kirishima is lonely and touch-starved. He doesn’t want to avoid touch for the rest of his life out of fear that someone’s going to know. So he allows himself to indulge a little; he’s popular with girls in UA, a fact that surprises him. Unlike the girls in middle school, they haven’t heard the rumours that there’s something wrong with him, so they smile and chat to him and even flirt. It’s exciting and new and he allows himself to have just this -- he kisses them and he makes them feel good, and then he retreats when they look for more because he just can’t give it to them. 

When he tells you all this, you could swear that you feel your heart crack right down the middle. You hadn’t realised how lonely Kirishima was, wrapped up in a self-constructed blanket of self-loathing and disgust. You knew it had taken a lot of trust for him to open up to you like he had, but you hadn’t realised just how much. It makes your chest fill with some undefinable emotion, and you just want to hold him and never let go. 

You’re more determined than ever now to show him exactly how much you care about him, and exactly how much any physical anomaly doesn’t affect the way you feel in the slightest. You’ve been stretching yourself methodically and carefully every night of the week that has passed since you gave him his first blowjob in preparation to finally have sex with him. You just want him to feel good, and you don’t want him to worry about hurting you. And now, tonight, you’ve decided that you’re ready for it.

Bakugou’s the one that answers the door when you knock at their shared apartment, and his face does something funny when he sees you. He lets you in without a greeting, and yells for Kirishima as you shut the door behind you. It’s definitely a little awkward, because your last proper conversation was that day when he told you that your now boyfriend didn’t get off when you were together, but you smile and ask him how he’s doing all the same.

He just grunts at you and sprawls out on the couch, his attention fixed on his phone. You don’t try to make any further conversation, because you figure he probably won’t respond and you can hear Kirishima crashing around further down the hall anyway. You’re about to slip down the hall towards Kirishima’s room when Bakugou speaks again, surprising you. “You talked.”

You pause, confused for half a moment before the memories of your last conversation come flooding back. “Oh. Uh, yeah, we did.” 

Bakugou nods, still staring at his phone. You hover uncertainly, unsure of whether you should continue to Kirishima’s room or if Bakugou had something else he wanted to say. You don’t have to wait long; Bakugou puts his phone down and turns to survey you closely. “If you’re still here, then I guess you didn’t freak out.”

“There’s nothing to freak out over.” you say defensively, thinking of how sensitive Kirishima is about his body.

“I never said there was!” Bakugou snaps back instantly. You both glare at each other, but you don’t respond further. You came here for one reason, and that reason was not to start a fight with Bakugou when your boyfriend was waiting for you in the bedroom. When Bakugou speaks again, it’s with an awkward edge to his voice. “Whatever. Just don’t be an asshole to him.”

You realise that Bakugou is just trying to look out for his friend, and the revelation that you’re receiving Bakugou’s awkward attempt at a shovel talk is enough to have you reeling. “As if I would be,” you say, “I really like him.”

“Good. Fine.” Bakugou picks his phone back up and you take that as a dismissal. You’re just about to leave when he says, “By the way, keep it the fuck down. I don’t care if you’re taking dragon dick or if it’s Shitty Hair’s first time getting his dick wet, I don’t need to hear that nasty shit.”

His crudeness has you flushing hot with embarrassment, but you don’t dignify him with a response. You slip down the hall and up to Kirishima’s bedroom, knocking softly on the door before letting yourself in.

Kirishima is in the process of trying to stuff a pile of clothes into the bottom of his wardrobe, and he slams the door shut and whirls around when he hears you come in. “Hey!” he beams at you, trying to kick aside the pair of underwear that’s stuck in the edge of the wardrobe door.

“Hey, you.” you greet him. You’re still a bit flustered from Bakugou’s comment, but you hide it as best as you can as Kirishima sweeps you up in his arms and pulls you into a sweet, close-mouthed kiss.

In the week since you blew him the first time, the two of you have alternated between your apartments and spent almost every single day together. Some days you just touched each other with your hands, other days you used your mouths on each other. You still hadn’t gotten fully used to his enormous loads of cum, but he seems at least to be getting more and more comfortable with your touch. Even now, his hands trail up your sides as he presses eagerly into you; this boldness would have been unheard of coming from him only a week ago, but neither of you are under any illusions about what the two of you are going to get up to this evening.

You wind your arms around his neck and melt into the kiss, relishing the contact and the wet slide of his lips against yours. As his hands trail from your hips to your lower back to your ass, you feel the hard press of his lower abdomen nudge against you. You pull back and grin at him, “Someone’s impatient.”

Kirishima flushes, but he doesn’t pull away or deny it. Progress. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” he confesses quietly, reaching up to nudge a flyaway tuft of hair out of your eyes.

“Yeah?” you grin, delighting in his openness. You take a small step back and look down at where his bulge is tenting the front of his sweatpants. “How long have you been like this, baby?”

“Pretty much since you texted me telling me you were thinking of coming over.” he says with a cheeky little smile, nudging his face into your neck and nipping at the skin there. “So, an hour and a half? Give or take.”

You hum as you cup his hardness through the cotton of his joggers. He groans and his hips jerk into your palm, as sensitive as ever. “Hey,” you murmur, “Wanna fuck me?”

Kirishima’s whole body twitches at that, and you swear you can feel his cock jump in his hand. “Now?” he asks, his voice gone a little hoarse from surprise and arousal.

“Unless you’d like to wait?”

“No! Now is good!” Kirishima says hastily, reaching out to hold your hips as though he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “God, now is so good.”

It’s really hard to hold back your laugh as you watch him scramble towards the bed, tugging you along with him. He’s excited, that much is obvious, and you really can’t blame him -- he’s gone so long thinking that he would never get to have this, that he would never be accepted like this. You want to give him everything.

His hands start fidgeting with the sheets as soon as he sits back on the bed. You straddle his lap and take his hands in yours before leaning in for a kiss, hoping to distract him from any nerves or self-doubts before they can take a hold of him. He hums happily into your mouth, squeezing one of your hands in his and using the other one to wrap around your waist and pull you closer.

“I’ve thought about sex with you so many times,” you admit when you pull away from the kiss. You reach up and stroke a line down the bridge of his nose, then push back a lock of his hair; it’s freshly washed and ungelled, lying fluffy and loose around his face. He’s looking up at you like you just hung the moon, open-mouthed and soft-eyed. It’s such a sweet look on him, and you love watching it contort into pleasure as you sink down to rub yourself against his hard on. “I want you to feel good.”

Kirishima makes a choked off whining sound in his throat as he grinds up into you. “You always make me feel good.” he says. You can feel his cock thickening and filling out against you, and judging by how clearly you can feel him, he’s foregone the usual jockstrap or protective cup he uses to try and hide his shape in his pants. 

You reach down and pull at his sweatpants -- you manage to get one leg off entirely, but the other gets stuck halfway down his left thigh and you’re too impatient to keep pulling at it so you just abandon it in favour of reaching for Kirishima’s now exposed cock. You’ve gotten familiar with the thick ridges and bumps of it over the past week, familiar enough for your fingers to seek out his sensitive spots without even looking.

He moans as you touch him, and dips his hands into your pants so that he can squeeze at your ass. His grip is a little too hard, bordering on painful as he bites at your neck. He pops open the button on your pants and shoves one of his hands into your panties, rubbing at your clit with his thumb and trailing his other fingers along your slit. 

You rub at the bumps along the tip of his cock, and you’re rewarded with a little squirt of precum. It dribbles down your hand and onto the sheets, and you wonder if maybe you should put down some towels to try and keep the mess contained. But Kirishima is letting out the softest little moans as he tries to rut into your hand and rub at your clit at the same time, and you decide that ruining the moment to lay down towels just isn’t worth it. A little mess is a small sacrifice to make.

When his fingers finally dip inside you, you feel his whole body tense up and still. “Baby,” he says, his voice soft and a little stunned, “You..”

“I stretched myself out before I came over,” you finish for him, pushing your hips back so that his fingers sink all the way inside of you. The lube still inside of you makes the slide effortless, and the look on Kirishima’s face is absolutely priceless. “I’m ready when you are.”

Those words elicit another little spurt of precum as Kirishima’s cock twitches in your hand. When you glance down, you see that the base of his dick is engorged and painful looking, and it only seems to be swelling. You only get to look for a moment though, because then you’re being flipped on your back and Kirishima is looming over you. “Oh, baby, oh shit,” he grits out through clenched teeth as his cock rubs up against the back of your thighs. “Are you sure you want to?”

“I want to, I want to so bad,” you promise him, kissing where you can reach on his face. You reach down and grip his cock, guiding it to your entrance, “Go slow, baby.” You’re so excited when you first feel the tip of his cock press into you that you’re not sure if the gush of wetness is from your pussy or his precum. You’re so turned on that you wonder if the amount of lube you had used was overkill, but then the length of him starts to stretch you out and you decide that yes, you absolutely did need that lube.

As soon as the tip is in, Kirishima stills over you. His head drops down, forehead making contact with your shoulder as he groans. You rock your hips experimentally, your breathing gone a little ragged as you realise that you can feel all those fleshy bumps and ridges, but Kirishima snatches at your hips instantly to still you. When he speaks, his voice is strained, “I’m not gonna last.”

Affection bubbles up in your chest as you look at his flushed face, his misty eyes. He’s practically trembling from the effort of holding back. “It’s okay,” you assure him, looping your arms over his shoulders and tracing little patterns into the skin of his back, “You don’t have to, it’s your first time. We have all the time in the world to go again and again, as many times as you want.”

Kirishima makes a garbled little noise in the back of his throat, and then he’s kissing you so sloppily and enthusiastically that drool begins to slip down your chins. It’s a little gross, but considering how much cum you’re going to be covered in soon enough you can’t be too fussy. When he pulls back, it’s so that he can look down and watch where his cock is entering you in increments.

The slow, inexorable stretch of it has your breath catching in your throat. You throw your head back on the bed and focus on keeping your breathing as steady as possible as he presses into you so, so slowly. After exploring the length of him with your mouth and hands, you knew he was big, but apparently knowing and feeling are two completely separate things. You feel like you’re being stretched impossibly wide, and when you glance down you see that he’s not even halfway in. 

Kirishima pauses suddenly, his breathing coming in short pants. You think that he’s just taking a moment to collect himself, to pace himself, but he’s frowning down at where the two of you are connected. “I dont- I don’t think I’ll fit.”

“Oh, you’ll fit.” you declare, jaw set stubbornly. His dick was already partly in you, and like hell were you giving up now. “Don’t worry. Keep going, Eiji.”

“You’re so…” he groans as he edges his hips forward, rocking his cock another inch inside of you, “So tight, you feel so wet and warm inside, oh god, so good, so good.”

The stretch is starting to sting, but you’ve prepared yourself well for this and it’s not so bad that you can’t breathe through it. When he bottoms out inside you, the tip of his cock hits your cervix and your whole body jerks hard at the dull ache it sends up your spine. “Fuck!” you cry out, your hips humping back into Kirishima’s of their own accord. You can feel every damn ridge and swirl grinding against your insides, and you clamp down hard around him, gasping. “Oh, shit.”

You’ve never felt so full in your life, and Kirishima’s cock doesn’t even fit all the way inside you. You wonder if you’re about to split in two. Your thighs are splayed obscenely wide, and you can feel your own body trying to suck him in further but there’s nowhere else to go because he’s filling you up so completely. Your chest is heaving as you pant for breath -- your thoughts have turned a little muddy, but even now you can see that Kirishima has frozen, his face tucked into your neck as he shudders with deep, panting breaths. Your shoulder feels wet, and you realise that he’s drooling on you.

“Eijirou,” you groan, “Move.”

His first thrust is hesitant, exploratory. He apparently likes what he feels, because he lifts his head up so that he can look at you properly. He looks totally blissed out, his eyes a little unfocused, and his expression alone shoots a bolt of heat straight between your legs. You breathe out a curse and move your hips down and into him, trying to encourage him to fuck you properly. When he thrusts forward again, the movement is accompanied by a vulgar squelching sound, and you realise that you’re probably being filled up with his precum. The thought makes you moan quietly, tightening up around him. 

Kirishima grunts and dives down so that your chests are pressed together, his arms pushing your legs up and to the side, and then suddenly he’s fucking into you for real. His moans sound like they’ve come straight out of a porn video as he shoves his cock as deep inside you as possible before pulling out and doing it again. All you can do is gasp against him as the breath is driven straight out of your lungs by his desperate humping.

His movements are nearly feral, jackhammering into you at a pace that probably should feel punishing but instead has you hiccuping out moans on every stroke. The size of him and the speed at which he’s fucking at you is overwhelming in the best possible way. He keeps gasping your name in between moans, his jaw lolling open as he pants for breath. “Oh, baby girl, you feel so good, so good for me. You like this?”

“Yes!” you wheeze, clinging to his shoulders as he rails you into the mattress. It’s better than you ever could have hoped for, and you’re nearly sobbing from the sheer sensation of it all. “Oh god, don’t stop!” You feel your abdomen drawing tight, heat beginning to build rapidly in the bottom of your belly, and you practically throw yourself down to meet his thrusts. “Please, I’m gonna cum, make me cum, Eiji!”

Kirishima practically snarls at that, his hand snaking down to your pussy even as he keeps rutting into you. His hand finds your clit and starts stroking at it hard and fast at a pace that matches his fucking. “Fuck yes, I wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

You know you’re starting to shake apart, his cock and his fingers too much for you. Your body is strung taut, your orgasm so close you can virtually taste it. As he feels you clamp down around him Kirishima lets out a whimpering moan, and with that you’re totally gone, head slamming back on the bed as you let out mindless, breathless little choking moans. It feels like your vision totally wipes out as you convulse in Kirishima’s arms, hips twitching wildly. 

When the euphoria of your orgasm finally subsides, you feel so totally fucked out that you hardly know which way is up. It takes you a moment to become aware of the way Kirishima is humping into you desperately now, hunkering over you and groaning. Feeling his cock slide in and out of your over-sensitive and still twitching pussy is almost too much, and you know you won’t be able to take much more of his relentless pounding. You clench around him as tight as you can and cup his sweaty face in your hands, smiling at the open-mouthed look of pure need he’s giving you. “Are you gonna cum inside me, Eiji?”

Apparently that was the correct thing to say, because you can see the moment that he hurtles completely over the edge. He shoves his cock as deep as he can get inside you and then he’s crying out as he begins to empty himself inside you. He keeps rocking, even though his cock is crammed as far into you as it’s possible to get, and you tremble and gasp as you feel his cum spraying inside you. It feels totally filthy, and there’s so much of it that you can feel it leaking out and down your ass even though Kirishima’s cock is still plugging you up. There’s so much cum that you actually start to wonder if your birth control is going to still be effective. You almost expect it to start coming out of your ears.

It seems like he’s cumming forever, and eventually he has to pull out because you’re just too full. As soon as his gradually softening cock is pulled free, it seems like a veritable bucketload of cum streams out of you and makes a mess of the bedcovers. It’s simultaneously really gross and really, really hot, and you don’t have the energy to unpack that so you just lay back and watch as Kirishima’s cock continues to dribble cum all over his legs and your abdomen. The swollen base of his cock is deflated now, and his dick eventually gives one last twitch and then he’s finished. 

He collapses on top of you, sweaty and soiled with his cum, but you don’t complain as he wraps you up in his arms and kisses your temples, murmuring soft, mindless praise into your hairline. “Are you okay?” he whispers, “Did I hurt you?”

You laugh a little, still winded. Your pussy is feeling achey from being stretched so wide, and you’re definitely going to have trouble walking tomorrow, but it’s the best kind of hurt imaginable. “You did everything just right.” you say, giving him a tired smile. “How was it?”

“If I could stay in your pussy forever, I would.” he says solemnly, the barest hint of a smile pulling at his lips.

You laugh properly at that, and roll over so that you’re lying across his chest. “Yeah? Well, I think you’ve just ruined me for all other cocks in the world. No one's ever gonna compare to how good yours feels.”

With your chin on his chest, you have a clear view of the way he flushes at your words, and the vulnerability that creeps into his expression as he looks at you. “Really?”

“I just came so hard it felt like the world was ending.” you grin at him, then press a teasing kiss to one of his pecs. “Yes, really.”

A smile breaks out on his face, toothy and dorky, as if he can’t believe his luck. “So… Would you want to do it again, maybe? Sometime?”

The smile you return is so wide it feels like it’s about to split your face. “Yeah, Eiji. Without question.”

It’s hard to kiss when you’re both grinning like total idiots, but the two of you make a valiant effort all the same. The ridiculous amount of cum painting the two of you is beginning to dry and flake off your skin, and it's definitely kind of gross but you’re so happy and sated and tired in that moment that you’re pretty sure nothing on earth could ruin the moment for you. Not even Bakugou when he comes pounding at the door and yelling obscenities in the form of noise complaints.