#but like if you can’t sleep on your birthday when can you?

[thoughtfulfiction]

Full of Surprises

Author’s note: My first Joe request from a gorgeous anon! Hope you, my angel @emmyblues and all the other New Years babies had an amazing birthday!!!

Pancakes. Waffles. Is both too much? A little fruit on the side? Should he have bacon on the plate? What about eggs?

“Joe,” he snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of a perturbed voice. “What should I make? I’d like to know today, please.”

The man continues walking around the kitchen, running through the plan in his head. It’s honestly causing him more effort than most of his pregame prep. Football was easy, it was x’s and o’s, utilizing his cadence and dissecting some of the best defenses the league has ever seen. Simple things. Planning the perfect birthday wasn’t exactly something he’d practiced his entire life but it was the first one he’d be spending with you living together so he was willing to try his best to make it unforgettable.

“Okay,” he places his hands on the counter, facing his chef. The first order of business for the day was to deliver you breakfast in bed but he loved you too much to make you sit through a meal he cooked. So he called in a professional to start the day off on the right foot. “Chocolate chip pancakes. Final answer.”

“Thank you,” his chef Morgan cracks a tiny smile, patting Joe on the back. “Relax man, she’s gonna love it. If anything, today might be a little over the top but hey—I’d go all out for my girl too.”

That did nothing to ease his worries. He made his way to the living room to touch up some of the decorations and make sure that the layout is how he pictured it in his mind. He thinks for a second, laughing to himself about how you’re still peacefully sleeping upstairs and he’s running around like a headless chicken. By the time he’s putting on the finishing touches, the food is ready and he needs to wake you up so you have time to eat and spend a little time together before he has to leave for practice.

You wake up to the most delicate kisses peppering your face, your neck, your collarbone. Trying to ignore it, you pull the covers over your face but your morning energy, or lack thereof, is no match for him. He easily takes the comforter away, pulling you in close enough to have his mouth back on your skin, kissing your shoulder. Each gentle touch enhances the beautiful wake-up call.

“Good morning sunshine,” he states calmly, “happy birthday.”

You hum tiredly, opening your eyes to ogle at him in all of his glory. His icy blue eyes peering into your soul, the way his arm muscles clench while holding onto the tray full of food that he sets in your lap. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of this view, of being in his orbit…as long as you live. And he’s completely dedicated to making this entire day all about you. “Thank you baby,” you cover your mouth and back away when he leans in, “morning breath?”

Joe scoffs, “come here woman,” he grabs you by your legs, wrapping them around his waist and reaching over to present the most perfect platter of pancakes you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Thank you! You didn’t have to wake up extra early and do all this,” you give him a very quick peck, immediately digging in.

He takes a piece of fruit off of your plate and pops it into his mouth, “thank Morgan actually. I didn’t make any of it. But…I do have big plans for you today.”

“Oh you do?”

Joe nods, grabbing your fork so he can feed you. He sat there and helped you finish the plate, giving you a kiss after each bite. Once you were finished, he let you brush your teeth before pulling out a blindfold.

“This is a bit kinky…” you trail off as the light is replaced with complete and utter darkness. Joe gently ties the blindfold after wrapping it around your head and waving his hand in front of your face to make sure you can’t see.

“Maybe I’ll save it for later,” Joe growls into your ear, playfully smacking your butt before grabbing your hand slowly walking the two of you out of the room.

The gentle padding of his feet on the ground, leading you down the stairs is the one thing you can focus on. You knew he was only leading you to the living room but you really don’t mind trusting blindly to hold your hand through life and wherever it may take you.

Light comes back to your world when your boyfriend takes off the blindfold, his mischievous smile making an appearance.

“Joseph…what did you do?”

He puts his hands up, looking at you like he has no clue what you’re talking about. The entire living room is covered in balloons, two giant gold numbers depicting your age sit on the couch, surrounded by a array of lavish gift bags. “Oh, I almost forgot,” Joe rushes out, taking long strides toward the doorway and coming back with his hands behind his back. The birthday hat you made him wear a few weeks ago is suddenly now on your head and he takes a picture of you in the middle of the room and you feel like you’ve just won a spelling bee. “You can take it off now if you want, I promised my mom I’d get you back for making me wear the stupid hat. But you look good in the stupid hat so it’s not as funny.”

“Aw you’re so sweet,” you tell him with a laugh, kissing him on the cheek as he hands you the first gift.

The first three bags are Bvlgari. A complete matching set containing a ring, necklace and a bracelet. All gold. The next bag is Gucci, an ivory bucket hat.

“I have the same one in black. Figured we could match,” Joe shrugs, handing you the next one.

Calf length leather boots, with red bottoms. Then another pair of boots, which could be considered more casual since they’re Chelsea boots…except they’re Prada. And of course, he got you the Prada travel bag you mentioned in passing nearly a month ago. “Thank you. You really did not have to get me all this stuff. All of this is beautiful and so thoughtful.”

You wrap your arms around him, hugging him tight and giving him a tender kiss on the lips. “What did I do in my past life to deserve you?”

Most of your early relationship you tried to be firm in letting him know you weren’t with him for the stuff he can buy you. Over time as the trust and love continued to build between you two, you realized that it wasn’t the end of the world to be pampered and showered with gifts every now and then, internal cringing less at the thought of the prices at the end of his gift receipts. The man seemed satisfied with how his first two surprises had gone, letting you know that your friend Ryan was on her way to pick you up as soon as he was gone for practice. Every detail had been carefully planned out so you wouldn’t be alone and bored while he was gone.

As soon as he was out the door you took your time getting ready, putting your new items away in their respective places. Ryan texted you that she was on her way after you got out of the shower, not telling you where you were headed so you opted for minimal makeup and a casual but cute outfit and some sneakers in case there was walking involved.

The surprise ended up being an extensive spa treatment. A 75 minute deep tissue massage and a Vitamin C facial. Then there was the mani-pedi, hydrotherapy soak and exfoliating scrub included. You felt the most relaxed you’ve felt in years, all the tension was released literally from the top of your head and neck area to your feet.

Your home was eerily quiet when you and Ryan came back. The lights were off and Joe was nowhere to be found, even though the car he took when he left that morning was back in its usual spot in the garage.

“Babe? Are you home?” You called out, starting to search for him.

Ryan turned on the kitchen lights and suddenly the room was filled with people yelling “surprise!” Your mom and Joe’s mom were there, along with several of your friends, a few Bengals players and their significant others were also in attendance.

On the side table was a massive spread of food, mostly comprised of your favorites and you bravely held back the wave of emotion to greet everyone and thank them for coming. Having a birthday on a holiday has never been easy. Growing up it was a time where people were either out of town to celebrate with their families or it was just simply too much work to even want to plan anything concrete in case plans had to be moved around or cancelled. You sometimes felt like the day was completely overshadowed. Now that you were an adult it wasn’t the biggest deal in the world as long as you had a relaxing and relatively fun day but for Joe to gather some of your favorite people in the world all in one place to be with you on your birthday meant more than you could explain. Speaking of Joe, you hadn’t seen him yet.

You are in the middle of asking Chase Brown’s girlfriend Jazmyn if she has everything she needs from her baby registry when you spot him. In his hands is the most beautiful heart shaped gold birthday cake and he’s beaming as he starts the “happy birthday” song and everyone in the room joins in. Your eyes are closed when he sets the cake in front of you, telling you to make a wish. The first reaction is to ask him what more could you wish for when you have everything you could possibly want right in front of you, yet you indulge him and stand still to think for a little while before blowing out your candles and letting people try the cake.

Between the conversations about playoff scenarios and resolutions for the new year, the room is bustling with activity. Even Joe seems relaxed, a water bottle in hand and never really taking interest in being more than five feet away from you at all times. You catch his eyes a few times throughout the afternoon, a comforting smile here and there going a long way while the people in your home happily mingle and make significant dents in the amount of food available. Nobody really seems to notice that the two of you have snuck off other than your moms, who exchange knowing smiles.

“Alright, you have to stop.” You tell him once you’re finally alone.

“Stop what? What am I doing?”

“Stop looking at me with that face. That I’ve seen you naked several times face, don’t give me that face. Not with my mom in the room. Because when you make that face and you’re staring at me with that—freaking stare I want to do something about it. And I can’t. Cause my mom is in the room. And so is yours. So stop it. That should’ve been my birthday wish.”

Joe rolls his eyes, closing the already short distance between you. “Well, when you say a wish out loud, it doesn’t come true.”

He’s looking at you again, less intense this time, more…soft. You’re the only person in the world that gets to see him like this, completely undone and void of his impenetrable exterior. This is the man you’ve continued to fall in love with the more you’ve gotten to know him. And when your lips meet his you can’t help but grin, brushing your finger along the side of his jaw with your thumb. The kiss is as soft as a feather, almost painfully slow as Joe teases you, letting you trace his top lip with your tongue until he opens his mouth and takes charge. Before the kiss goes any further he pulls away, sitting down in one of the oversized swivel chairs in the corner of the room and letting you settle on his thigh.

“When did you have time to do all this?” You ask him earnestly, “I mean with your schedule and the end of the season. How did you—”

He leans into your touch, kissing the tiny space behind your ear that he knows makes your skin feel like it’s on fire. “No matter what’s going on in my life, I will always find time to celebrate my favorite person in the entire world. I really wanted you to feel special today.”

“You make me feel special everyday. But for what it’s worth, you’re my favorite person in the world too.”

Joe kissed you on the head, patting your leg so you can stand up first. He tells you to wait here, signaling there’s one more surprise in store. In his hand is a card for you to read…alone. “I’ll be out there making sure Sam hasn’t eaten all of your cake,” he jokes, giving your hand a squeeze on his way out.

Running your fingers across the front of the letter, you admire Joe’s handwriting, trying to think of what could possibly be inside the envelope. Your curiosity gets the best of you rather quickly and you’re tearing it open, holding a small piece of paper in your hand.

Happy birthday baby,

I’ve been thinking about the perfect way to close out the day. Then I thought about birthday sex and doing unspeakable things to each other and got a little distracted. So I took a break to regroup and come up with an actual plan. Today is about you and how amazing you are. How you’ve changed my life for the better. How you’ve been my rock every step of the way during this up and down season. One that I wouldn’t trade for the world because at the end of the day, I get to play football, which love and then I get to come home to you, which I’m starting to love more and more every day. You’re my dream come true and I’m so lucky to get to do life with you.

And if you ever tell anyone I wrote you a love letter on your birthday I’ll deny it. We are taking this to the grave.

I love you,

Joe

You were already in tears halfway through the letter, the waterworks in full effect when two tickets to Disneyland in Tokyo were taped to the bottom of the letter.

How was he ever going to outdo this birthday?

The Bengals should seriously consider signing you for a short term contract the way you wrap Joe up in your arms as soon as you spot him. If he hadn’t seen you coming and knew your reaction, you probably could’ve taken him to the ground. “I take it you liked the present?”

You shrug, “not a bad first offseason trip,” the facade quickly fades and you hug him again, “thank you Joey, for everything today…and everyday. I love you.”

“I love you too.” He leans into you, resting his head on yours for a few seconds.

Tilting you head up, you look at him. “Wait…is this why you got us the bucket hats?”

“That’s exactly why I got us the bucket hats. We gotta fit the vibe babe. Blend in.”

You huff out a laugh. “Right. Of course.”

You once scoffed at an 8:30pm bedtime and now it was hard to keep your eyes open at 9:16pm, laying in bed next to Joe. And you swear you just heard him giggle, leaving you wide awake.

“Did you party too hard birthday girl?”

“It’s not funny! I’m getting too old for this,” you mumble into his side.

Sometimes you don’t even remember what life was like before him. And you definitely don’t want to know a life without him. Here he was Mr. Football fiend, in the middle of the season, going above and beyond to make you feel celebrated, special and loved beyond measure. And he’s always so warm, being in his arms is grounding you, slowly lulling you back to sleep.

The two of took a power nap so you could make it to the ball drop. At 11:59, he wished you happy birthday again and you kissed him at midnight wishing him a happy new year.

“Thank you for escaping the womb. I’m really glad you did that.” He pulls on your—well his—hoodie strings so you can’t see, kissing your nose.

“You’re a freaking idiot.”

[floofiestboy]

Aoyama's Let's Talk Day 2025 Translation [Unofficial Sources]

Yesterday was Aoyama’s yearly Let’s Talk Day, a day when a lucky few audience members chosen by lottery have the chance to ask him questions. While the Q&A hasn’t yet been officially released, I’ve translated tweets about the questions asked. I can’t guarantee that they’re 100% trustworthy, but generally most questions were posted by multiple unrelated users.

In cases where different users reported slightly different answers for the same question, I consolidated them to the best of my ability. All source tweets at the end. Without further ado: 

Q. When Gin travels to other countries, does he stay at hotels, or does he have safe houses? I want to know whether he uses hotel-provided amenities like bathrobes.  

A. He sleeps in his car or stays at Organization-provided lodging- the Organization has apartments all over the place. He does also stay at hotels. The FBI still hasn’t discovered them. He does wear bathrobes! He has long hair so I imagine it’s tough to wash.

Q. What sports does the England-born Akai play aside from Jeet Kune Do?

A. He learnt Jeet Kune Do from his father, so has no interest in sports other than that. But I think he might be good at cricket since he’s English. Maybe baseball in America.

Q. Does Hiro have any experience with martial arts?

A. He learnt some at the police academy. He has no other experience, but he’s decently strong- weaker than Kyogoku though.

Q. As you were a guest on Kōhaku Uta Gassen [T/N: A music show that traditionally airs around New Year’s in Japan] this year, do you have plans to write a case based around it?

A. I doubt NHK would let me (haha) I did think a music show case might be fun, but they’d probably still bother me about it.

[Questioner: What if you changed the name? Like, a West vs. East tournament.]

I’ll think about it.

Q. Will the Kuroba family and Kudo family meet each other in the future?

A. Is that something you want to see? I’ll think about it.

Q. What will Momiji do now that Heiji and Kazuha are dating?

A. I don’t think Momiji will give up? She’ll do her best.

Q. How can you think up so many different characters?

A. I don’t know (haha) Maybe because I’ve seen lots of different manga, dramas, and movies. 

[Questioner: So they just pop up in your mind.]

Something like that.

Q. Do you plan to write a story where Chihaya and Furuya meet?

A. Ah, so Chihayafuru, you mean (haha) It sounds interesting, so I’ll think about it.

Q. What can you tell us about this year’s movie at this point?

A. When I told Rikiya Koyama [T/N: Mouri’s VA] that Kogoro is the main character this year, he told me he was nervous. Once he was done, Takayama-san [T/N: Conan’s VA] told him he sounded cool. 

Q. What’s the best part of this year’s movie?

A. I can’t say, but I think you’ll be shocked.

Q. What’s your favourite case so far?

A. Ran GIRL & Shinichi BOY. I love it.

Q. How did Kogoro manage to become a detective without deductive abilities?

A. He doesn’t have deductive abilities, but he’s good at shooting and judo. And he has Conan around. Everything works out.

Q. Was Nakamori Aoko born in September?

A. When is good?

[Questioner: Since Kaito was born on the 21st, maybe the 12th?]

 I’ll think about it. I haven’t decided, but since Kaito’s birthday is June 21st (6/21), maybe September 12th (9/12) makes sense.

Q. What kind of things does Ran talk about with her karate club friends?

A. What would you like?

[Questioner: Romance talk!]

I do think they chat about that. Everyone would be interested to hear about how things are going with Shinichi. If a scene like that ever comes to mind, I’ll think about including it.

Q. What is Furuya’s family situation like?

A. Secret, as I haven’t decided for certain just yet- it might still change.

Q. Will you ever draw the moment Kazuha fell for Heiji?

A. Do you want to see it? I might.

Q. At Abeno Harukas, Heiji confessed and was holding hands with Kazuha, but did Heiji initiate the hand-holding?

A. Yes. I don’t know if I’ll ever draw that though.

Q. At Kōhaku Uta Gassen, were there any artists you enjoyed other than aiko, B’Z, and Fukuyama-san?

A. Ah, I can’t think of anyone but them. But they were all good. B’z was amazing. It was all dark in the audience seating, but when I thought “oh, something is moving,” it was truly amazing by the end. B’z is my choice! (haha)

Q. Do you have any plans for a spinoff featuring Hattori?

A. Like Zero’s Tea Time?

[Questioner: More like Hanzawa-san.]

What’s the difference between Zero’s Tea Time and Hanzawa-san? Did you want a spinoff? There’s no plans for one right now.

Q. Are there any characters you plan to have romantic developments for in the near future?

A. Kansuke and Yui, and Juugo and Chihaya… aside from that [glances at the moderator] that character… if I say who it is, we’ll get flamed online, so… (haha) 

[The audience goes abuzz]

Well, yes. I can’t tell you right now (haha). Let’s leave it at that.

Q. What’s the plan for next year’s movie?

A. I can’t say, but they do already have it planned.

Q. Who will be the star of next year’s movie?

A. I can’t say, but it’s already been decided as well as the stage.

Q. I’m from Hokkaido. Do you have plans to draw any famous tourist spots in Sapporo? 

A. Hakodate was recently the stage, so it would need to be some time in the future. Any recommendations?

[Questioner: Suzukake Park, Oodori Park, Sapporo TV Tower.]

Ah, got it, I’ll think about it.

Q. We know that Azusa has worked at Poirot for at least one year, but how long has she worked there in total?

A. I don’t know. Maybe since she was in high school. Oops, I just said whatever.

Q. Any plans for a movie set in Tottori?

A. Not at this time. I’ll think about it. I did try to incorporate the Tottori dialect once, but I was told it was incomprehensible. Tottori dialect is pretty hard. If we do a movie here, I’d like it to use Tottori dialect.

Q. It seems Momiji won’t give up even now that Heiji and Kazuha have gotten together, but will Iori continue to serve Momiji in the same way? Will he ever leave due to his old work?

A. He’ll be by her side forever. I think he’ll protect her until the day he dies.

Q. What would you want to eat at a Conan café? 

A. Naporitan spaghetti. I have childish tastebuds, so I also like Hamburg steak and hamburgers.

Q. I like aiko, so I want to hear the behind-the-scenes details about your talk with her on Kōhaku Uta Gassen.

A. During our preparatory meeting, I asked whether I should say “Funya!”, but I was told I couldn’t (because it’s from a different agency.) [T/N: Not familiar with this myself, but maybe it’s some idol’s catchphrase or a reference to a show.]

[Questioner: After meeting aiko, did any murder case ideas come to mind?]

No (haha) It would be sad to kill her off. Maybe a case with a singer involved… I’ll think about it. Aiko was cute.

Q. Kurayoshi’s phone number area code is an important plot point in Conan, but will the city be involved in the future?

A. A coincidence. Kurayoshi residents will get mad at me otherwise.

Q. What did you do for New Year’s as a child?

A. Usually my family would ask me to visit a shrine with them, but I’d stay at home since it was too much of a pain. These days, I always go for my health. [T/N: In Japan, it’s tradition to visit a shrine on the first day of the new year.]

Q. What’s Inspector Ayanokouji’s personal life like? What are his hobbies?

A. He feeds Maro-chan. Hobbies… I wonder. He does like Maro-chan. What would you like?

[Questioner: Something like archery.]

Archery? Well, I’ll think about it.

Q. Do you have any plans for a triple date with Heiji-Kazuha, Shinichi-Ran, and Kyougoku-Sonoko?

A. I hadn’t thought of that before, but I’ll think about it.

[Questioner: So you don’t plan to think about it.]

Sorry (haha). 

Q. Any information on Akai and Amuro’s chat nine hours later?

A. I can’t say. It’s a truly mysterious tea party (haha)

Q. In your Professional interview, you were eating curry, but is there any other food or snacks you like to eat while working?

A. I only really eat cheap stuff, so (haha)  I’m really into the beef don mini-pack from Yoshinoya- it’s a pretty small portion. It’s healthy and good. Also, curry from Coco.

Q. The Saitama prefecture is right next to Tokyo, but has never made an appearance. Any plans for Saitama prefecture police to appear?

A. Yokomizo did show up in Saitama at first, but he did move to Shizuoka, so (haha) I tried to have him go back, but I was told that then it just seemed like he never moved at all. I’ll write about Saitama eventually. I’ll think about it.

Q. What does Kazuha like aside from aikido? 

A. She likes Heiji… (haha) I think she likes cooking just like others like her would. Do you have any thoughts on what she might like?

[Questioner: What…]

[Moderator: Well, that’s what they wanted to know in the first place.]

I’ll think about it.

Q. I’m from Taiwan. Conan has only ever gone to England in the manga. Will he ever go to another country in the manga, not the movies?

A. It would be tough while he’s still Conan, as he doesn’t have a passport. His only choice is for Kid to stuff him into a suitcase, but I can’t use the same trick twice (haha) I’d like to go to Taiwan one day.

Q. Akai and Amuro infiltrated the Organization and know about Sherry, but don’t know of the existence of APTX4869?

A. They do not. There’s a reason why the details of her research and her family isn’t well-known in the Organization, but that’s secret. Even parents wouldn’t tell their children about it in the Organization. 

Q. Do you plan to introduce any new Organization operatives?

A. What would you like?

[Questioner: Amaretto!]

I'll think about it.

Q. Do you plan to draw Shinichi and KID facing off?

A. Shinichi. You mean big Shinichi, huh? I’d love to. (haha)

Q. What last name do you like, or would like to have?

A. Kudo! (haha) Since Kudo Yuusaku as portrayed by Matsuda Yuusaku was cool. If I can, I’d love to become one! (haha)

Q. Did you decide that Heiji would confess on a tall Osaka building even before the Abeno Harukas tower was completed? [T/N: It opened in 2014]

A. I decided after the Abeno Harukas tower was completed. But I did know from the start that Kazuha’s mother would make an appearance to include a twist.I wanted everyone to think that he’d confess to her mother by mistake. 

Q. Who’s stronger between Kogoro and Ran?

A. That’s quite the question (haha) Kogoro is strong! But, Ran is catastrophically strong too (haha). I think it’s hard to say? But if they fought against each other, he’d probably hold back against Ran. Since he’s her dad.

Q. You can really feel the cultural differences between Kyushu and Tokyo. Do you plan to write a case based on that?

A. I’d like to.

Q. Do you have any special tidbits for us aside from what you’ve already told us?

A. Kansuke and Yui and Koumei’s childhood will appear in the movie. Take a good look at the illustration I drew for the Conan Tanteisha store as well. 

Q. Anything you’d want to incorporate into Tottori’s Mystery Tour? Tourist spots and restaurants you’d recommend?

A. I’d like them to make use of Tottori’s Odaiba, crabs, and apple-pears.

Q. Who’s the tallest among all your characters?

A. Date and Gin! Kyougoku is a little shorter, but those three are the tallest. Kazami is too tall in the anime. He should be the same height as Furuya. [T/N: One source also claimed he said that Gin is taller than Date.]

Q. Will Miyano Shiho and Kudo Shinichi ever star in the same case?

A. Ah, I can’t tell you that. Whoops, I almost let something slip (haha)

Sources

https://twitter.com/hrksdc/status/1875104017174639079

https://twitter.com/brainwashednerd/status/1875109428812460351

https://twitter.com/yuki_det_con/status/1875121186411348179

https://twitter.com/Flambe4869/status/1875236194071834928

https://twitter.com/nyarura73/status/1875104933978206521

https://twitter.com/mskAK25/status/1875125288943989101

https://twitter.com/furu_rei0/status/1875126654412177457

https://twitter.com/44_mcs/status/1875132311219634602

https://twitter.com/44_mcs/status/1875119113670144425

[goblinontour]

For Him

it’s all for him

warnings: explicit love

word count: 6k

Love doesn’t even begin to cover it. Love — the all-encompassing, all-consuming, above-all-else feeling. Love doesn’t feel adequate. Love doesn’t even come near enough to describe it. To describe what this is, what you feel, what he is to you. Love is a shallow word, a placeholder, a stand-in for something bigger, something you can’t name and never will. Will not be able to. 

It was there, though. Love was there. From the first moment you felt him. The moment you touched him, and you wished, in the quiet, echoing depths of your soul, that you’d met him earlier. Earlier, because there will never be enough of him.

And maybe if you’d had another year, you could have settled for love. Another month, and maybe it would have been enough to fill the spaces he’s carved out of you. Another day, and maybe you wouldn’t be here, aching, wanting, needing more. Another minute, and maybe the hollowness wouldn’t ache so much. Another second, and you might have been fuller.  

Fuller of him.

Because every second he doesn’t fill feels empty — even when they’re crowded with the thoughts of him. Those haunting thoughts of him. They are heavy. They linger. They never leave. Because you won’t let them. Because you can’t bear to let them go, even when they so desperately fight to dissolve. To let him go, even in your mind, feels unbearable. Because you can’t miss any more of him. You won’t allow it. It would hurt more than hanging onto those desperate thoughts. 

And the thought of goodbye? Nothing’s worse than saying goodbye. Saying goodbye to him, even the him you keep stored away in your head. It feels a little bit like dying. 

It feels worse than dying.  

You don’t miss him. You can’t. He’s here. His body beside you, his warmth in the bed. But you still long for him, as if there’s a piece of him somewhere else, just out of reach. A part of him you’ll never touch.  

If love’s not enough — will never be enough — then why? Why do you love him? Why do you love him so much that it splits you open and spills you out to make more room for him? Why do you love him when it hurts more often than it doesn’t?  

But then, he stirs. A faint, lazy shift beside you, and your heart lurches toward him. His hair is mussed, dark locks curling over his forehead, and you can feel the warmth of his skin before you even touch it. His breathing slows, evens, and your chest tightens. You lean in, closer than close, lips grazing the shell of his ear. 

There is nothing to be afraid of.

“I love you.”

The words come quiet, soft. You whisper them because saying them too loudly would only make it feel like acknowledging their insufficiency. Like shining a light on the void that still exists, even in love. So you keep them quiet and hope — hope — hope that they’re enough. At least for him. Enough for him to understand a fraction of what you mean. Of what it truly is. 

Because it’s more than love. It’s greater than affection. Beyond. Beyond the hugs and beyond the words or the way you hold him. More. More than the way he holds you back, like the two of you are all that’s keeping the world from breaking apart. Because you’d fall apart without each other there. Holding it all together, together. Yourselves and the other. 

“I think you’re supposed to say, ‘Happy Birthday.’” he murmurs, his voice slow and drowsy, still thick with sleep even though the sun hangs high in the sky. 

Almost noon.

You glance up at him, his eyelids heavy, his lips curling into the faintest trace of a smile. The kind of smile that’s more reflex than effort, born out of his teasing rather than true amusement.  

He doesn’t sleep well at night. He never has. He calls it wasting time, lying awake in the dark, restless, as if sleep itself is a thief robbing him of moments he’ll never get back. Time. Precious time. He treats it like gold dust, hoarded and spent with care, but never wasted.  

And yet, come morning — or afternoon — he always regrets it. Always drags himself out of bed with a sigh, muttering about the hours he’s lost. Same guilt, same cycle. A war between the time he holds too tightly and the time that slips away.  

Precious, precious time. 

You smile faintly against his skin. “I don’t want to remind you you’re getting old.”  

“You don’t want to remind yourself.” he corrects, his lips twitching into a knowing smirk. He’s always right, even when you don’t want him to be. Especially when you don’t want him to be. He’s always right.

“It’s okay, little love.” he says, and his voice wraps around you like a blanket never could, soft and warm but never suffocating. “I don’t mind it. But don’t worry too much. You’re making it sound like I’m eighty.”  

“Sorry.” you whisper, and you don’t know why you’re apologising, but you do it anyway. You shift closer, nuzzling into his chest, inhaling the faint, musky warmth of him. Now that he’s awake, you don’t have to be so careful. No tiptoeing so as not to disturb. You can disturb him now, without feeling as guilty. He won’t mind.  

“I love you too, just so you know.” he says, his voice soft, almost shy.  

You press your ear to his chest, to feel, and listen, and then feel some more. His skin is warm and sticky, still, from sleep. Sticky enough that your ear almost gets suctioned on there and you can hear the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart beneath your cheek more than his voice. 

Thumping. 

B-dum. B-dum. B-dum.

“I know.” you say. Barely audible. You don’t want to risk drowning out that sound. Of his heartbeat. You close your eyes and let it fill you, every hollow, aching part of you.  

B-dum. B-dum. B-dum.

Time feels cruel. You don’t say it, but you feel it. Time that keeps slipping through your fingers, dragging you both forward. But for now, there’s this. 

For now, it’s enough.  

It has to be.

“I didn’t get you anything.” you whisper again, even quieter this time, as though saying it aloud might further cement your failure. 

Your breath feels shallow, as though the confession has siphoned all the air from your lungs. You can feel his chest rise and fall beneath you, his warmth enveloping you, but it’s not enough to quiet the churn of guilt in your stomach. Your hands fidget against the hollow in the middle, that perfect slope that you imagine deepens every time you lay on it, tracing patterns in the heat of his skin.  

You didn’t. You didn’t get him anything because nothing felt like enough. If love wasn’t enough, how could a thing — a mere object, bought and wrapped and handed over — ever suffice? How could you trust that a trinket, something so tangible and small and fleeting, could carry the weight of everything you wanted him to know? What you needed him to feel? Everything you couldn’t say. If love wasn’t enough, how could you put your faith in anything else?  

If love wasn’t enough, how could anything be?  

“That’s fine.” he says. He’s impressively calm, unbothered, compared to your chronic restlessness. His fingers brush over your arm in slow, lazy strokes, as if to soothe you. He shifts slightly beneath you, adjusting his arm around your back. His fingertips trail lightly against your spine.  

Tap. Tap. Tap.

But his reassurance doesn’t land. You can’t stop. You can’t stop the words from spilling out, your voice trembling, faster now, desperate to explain, disjointed and raw. “I just-” You swallow hard. Your throat tightens. You press your cheek harder against his chest. “You already have it all. I didn’t know what to get you that you couldn’t just…get yourself. And I- I ran out of time…time. I thought about it too long, and then I woke up today, and it was too late.”  

“Sweetie…”

Your hands press against him, fingers curling slightly, clinging to the safety of his presence. You can’t look at him. You can’t risk it. You can’t risk seeing the disappointment that might linger in his eyes. The possibility of it burning in there would undo you completely, and you’re already teetering on the edge.  

You keep your gaze fixed on his collarbone, unable to look up. 

You can’t risk it. 

“Sweetie, stop.” he says. He’s firm. The words slice through your spiralling thoughts.  

You hear the barely there hiss of his breath, a flicker of frustration. And in that moment, your chest tightens, and the guilt surges forward. You fucked up. He exhales a soft huff that brushes against the crown of your head. You feel the faintest shift in his chest. You’ve said too much, and now you’ve ruined something.  

Everything.

But then his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer. He wraps himself around you like armor. Firm, his hands warm against your back, his hold so secure that it feels like the world outside of him doesn’t exist. He wraps himself around you so completely. The kind of embrace that makes you feel small and safe, protected in a way that nothing else does.  

He holds you tighter, tighter still, until the edges of you blur into him. He holds you so tightly you know you’d have to fight to escape. Until you know that escape is impossible.

Not that you’d ever try. You’d never want to.  

“Sorry.” you murmur against his chest.  

“No.” he says, sharp and immediate with an insistence that leaves no room for doubt. His hands move, one slipping up to the nape of your neck, his thumb brushing softly against your skin, the other splaying wide across your back. “No, no. You were right.” His voice softens and drops into something gentler. 

You hesitate, confused, and your body tenses slightly against him. He must feel it, because his hand on your back begins to move in slow, soothing circles, the friction of his palm against your shirt creating a faint warmth.  

“I have everything.” he continues.  

He pauses, and the silence stretches out. And again, all you can hear is the steady thrum of his heart beneath your ear. 

Beating.

B-dum. B-dum. B-dum.

The rhythmic pulse of life. It’s almost enough to drown out the self-doubt still clinging to you.  

“Right ‘ere.” he finally says, his voice breaking just slightly on the words.  

And then he inhales, so deep you feel the tremor in him, the slow expansion of his chest pressing into yours, the way he seems to pull the air in as if it might just be the thing holding him together. He holds it in. Exhales slowly. Like he’s releasing something, letting it go into the space between you. 

“I have you ‘ere.” he whispers. “That’s enough.”  

You don’t move. You don’t speak. You just lie there, your body pressed against his, your hands gripping him. His words feel warmer and heavier than his body, sinking into your skin, and for the first time in hours — maybe days — it begins to ease.  

Slowly, cautiously, you lift your head. You finally look up at him, chin resting on his chest — right in that special spot. When your eyes finally meet his, you see nothing but softness. There’s no disappointment there. No frustration. Just him. Just Alex, looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.  

And for a moment, the ache eases.  

You search his face, your gaze tracing the faint shadows beneath his eyes, the curve of his mouth, the messy curls that fall across his forehead. He doesn’t look away. He doesn’t blink. He just watches you, patient and steady, like he’s willing you to understand.  

You do. 

You let yourself believe him.  

For a moment, you let yourself believe that you are enough. 

So you watch.  

You look, and you study, and you wish — desperately — that your eyes were fitted with tiny microscopes so you wouldn’t miss a thing. You don’t want to miss a thing. You want to memorise every detail, every imperfection, every fleeting expression that might escape you if you look away too soon.  

Your gaze drifts to the corners of his eyes, to the faint wrinkles that fan out like delicate etchings. You start counting them, one by one, as you always do, wondering if there are more than last year, or even yesterday. You always count, and yet you never remember the last number. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Your eyes move to his forehead, and you study the lines there, the ones that seem a little deeper than they used to. They’re there constantly now, carved into his skin like tiny scars from years of raising his eyebrows just so. He says it’s to soften his expression, to make himself look less unapproachable to the outside world.  

You think it’s ridiculous.  

You’ve told him that before — how silly he looks when he does it, like he’s trying to imitate some wide-eyed, overly eager version of himself. You’ve teased him for it, and he’s laughed, but still, he does it.  

He says his face falls weird when he’s neutral, and this, apparently, is the fix. You think it’s unnecessary. You like his face as it is — neutral, serious, tired, upset. Whatever he is, it’s fine.  

Because it’s him.  

It’s him, and it’s real, and you wouldn’t change a thing.  

Your hand moves instinctively, your fingertips brushing against the faint lines there, on his forehead. You trace them gently, lightly, and harder as you’re trying to memorise their shape. He doesn’t flinch or pull away. He just watches you, patient as ever, his dark eyes soft and steady, as always. 

“You’re staring again.” he says. There’s no real reproach in it. He doesn’t mind the spotlight when that spotlight is you.

“I know.” you murmur, not bothering to deny it.  

He raises an eyebrow slightly, and there’s that look again — that playful tilt of his lips, the one that’s almost imperceptible, like he’s fighting the urge to smile.  

“Am I passing inspection?” he asks, his voice laced with amusement.  

You huff out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “You always do.”  

His expression softens further, the teasing edge fading. His hand comes up to rest over yours, his fingers curling gently around your wrist, holding you there against him.  

“You don’t have to, you know.” he says quietly.  

“Don’t have to what?”  

“Look so hard. It’s like…like you’re afraid I’ll disappear if you don’t.”  

The words catch you off guard, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say. Your hand stills against his forehead, and your breath hitches slightly, your chest tightening.  

“I just…” you start, your voice trailing off as you search for the right words. “I just don’t want to miss anything.”  

“You won’t.” he says simply, his thumb brushing lightly against your wrist. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”  

You nod, but that ache in your chest doesn’t fully subside. Because time doesn’t care about promises, and no matter how tightly you hold on, it always finds a way to slip through your fingers.  

“You’re struggling to breathe.” he announces, his steady voice pulling you back to yourself.  

You hadn’t noticed until now, hadn’t realised how shallow your breaths had become, how your lungs felt heavy, like they were carrying too much. The moment he says it, the awareness hits you — harder and harder, a wave crashing over you, dragging you under.  

Your chest tightens, and the sting in your nose starts to surface, hot and sharp. Your eyes feel like they’re being pressed from the inside, the pressure swelling until you can’t ignore it anymore.  

“Don’t cry, my baby.” he whispers, a plea as much as an attempt at comfort.  

But it’s too late.  

The cracks in you deepen, widening into fissures that can’t be held together anymore. The tears come, spilling over before you can stop them, before you can even think to try.  

He tries. He always tries. 

He wipes at your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, murmuring soft reassurances, holding you closer, tighter, like he can somehow stop the flow through sheer force of will. 

But it doesn’t work. He knows it won’t work.  

So, finally, he lets it happen. He lets you break, lets the tears fall freely, lets the overwhelming weight of it all pour out of you. Because it’s too much.

It’s too much love, too little time.

And when love feels like this, when it swells so big it aches, clothing is just another barrier. A suggestion, for that reason, never an imposition. 

He breaks it down with clumsy hands, fumbling with the neckline of your shirt, pulling it over your head in a movement that’s more desperate than it could ever be classed as graceful. He doesn’t pause, doesn’t hesitate, just keeps going until there’s nothing between you but skin.  

The moment you feel him — him — warm and solid, the familiar press of his chest against yours — it hurts a little less.  

You press yourself against him, a wet cheek against his shoulder, hands clutching at his back because you’re still afraid he might slip away. His arms wrap around you again, this time even tighter, to the point it almost hurts. It hurts. But not as much as not having him hold you. His hands spread across your bare skin like he’s trying to hold you together, to keep the fissures from splitting into something irreparable.  

He doesn’t speak now. There’s nothing left to say. He just holds you, lets you cry into him, lets the warmth of his body seep into yours, lets the moment stretch out until the edges of your pain start to dull.  

And in his silence, you feel it. The unspoken truth. The promise that doesn’t need words.  

The fissures won’t turn into holes. Not with him here. Not with the way he holds you, the way he keeps you from falling apart completely.  

You can breathe again.

And you can breathe him in again.  

Ah, there it is. That sweetness. It clings to him, a scent that feels like home. It soothes. It’s calming you.  

But now…now, he’s restless.  

You feel it first in the subtle fidgeting of his fingers against your skin, then in the shifting of his limbs, the tightening and untightening of muscles as he tries — and fails — to settle. The closeness that was comforting moments ago has turned into a puzzle, the edges too tight, the pieces overlapping awkwardly.  

“Oh.” you gasp softly. He’s restless all over, his body betraying him.  

“Sorry, girl.” he mumbles, his voice tinged with embarrassment. His hands move hesitantly, unsure whether to pull you closer or let you go. “I didn’t mean to. It- it’s just… you’re naked. Almost. It just…”  

“It’s…” you start, but you trail off.  

“I’m sorry.” he repeats, firmer this time, like he needs you to believe him.  

Why would he be sorry?  

It’s only…natural.  

“Who are you?” you ask suddenly, pulling back just enough to look at him, your eyes narrowing in mock suspicion.  

He blinks, startled, but before he can answer, you lean in again, pressing a kiss to the dip in his collarbone.  

“Just me.” he says with a nervous giggle. His cheeks flush, the color creeping up his neck, and you feel his chest rise sharply beneath your palms.  

He’s so fucking cute when he’s like this.  

“I don’t know you.” you tease. 

You’re purring.  

Up now, your knees bracketing his sides, your hands splayed across his chest. His breathing quickens further, his flush deepening as he looks up at you. From his point of view, there’s something there. A spark, a shift, something playful. But your eyes are still red, rimmed with the remnants of tears. 

And yet, he can’t help it.  

Not when you’re like this, pressing up against him, leaning over him, commanding his attention so effortlessly. His eyes flicker over you, wide and unblinking, like headlights catching something fragile in the dark. He knows he should look away, should steady himself, but he can’t.  

He can’t. He can’t. He can’t.

A palm reaches out, hesitant at first, then bold. It cups you, warm and engulfing, his fingers splaying instinctively, mapping every inch of you. The other joins. 

“Security! Security!” you call out dramatically, a breathless laughter.  

The corners of your eyes crunch as you smile, betraying any hint of real fear. The peaks of your skin, hot beneath his squeezing fingertips, send a rush of heat between you both, and you feel his hand falter for a split second before tightening its hold.  

The act of innocence.  

“I don’t mean to…” he says, his voice dipping low, a rasp threading through his words. He tilts his head back against the pillow, his eyes half-lidded, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I’m just a tortured artist, baby.”  

“Yeah?” you challenge, shifting your hips, enough to feel the friction between you both.  

“Yeah.” he breathes.  

Hips roll.  

Heat intensifies.  

The wetness that once blurred your vision now pools low, deep, undeniable. It seeps into the space between you, pulling you both into its gravity.  

He groans softly. And…God! It’s so beautiful…his grip on you tightening as his body moves in sync with yours. His gaze never leaves you, even as his lips part, his breath hitching with every shift, every roll, every press of your skin against his.  

You smile, a wicked, knowing smile, and lean down until your lips are just a breath away from his. “Tortured?” you murmur.  

“Always.” he whispers, his words swallowed by the heat between you as his hands guide you closer, closer, until there’s no space left at all.

“Is that solely a bad thing?” 

It strikes him harder than you intended. His body stills, his breath catching as he processes what you’ve just said. He doesn’t answer right away, his silence stretching out, heavy and charged, while you wait.  

You’re hesitant in your approach, your fingers hovering, dancing lightly across his skin. 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A rhythm that mirrors the beat of your heart. You’re waiting, always waiting, for his sign.  

And then it comes.  

A nod. Another squeeze of his hands on your breasts.  

Green light.

You move, reaching in just barely, your fingers brushing against the warmth of him. He’s sticky already.  

“I think…that…suffering is necessary.” he says, his voice uneven, halting. His legs twitch beneath you, begging to squeeze together, to curl inward, but he can’t. You’re holding him down without even trying, just by being there, your weight and presence enough to pin him in place.  

“In order to- to access the high levels of feeling- fuck-” His voice cuts off, his words swallowed by a sharp intake of breath.  

He can’t.  

His right hand quits its job of squeezing, abandoning your chest to join yours below. His fingers wrap around yours, warm and insistent, guiding you, begging you, leading you.  

“Of love.” he finally concludes, his voice trembling.  

Love.

It echoes in your mind, that single word reverberating.  

“Profound…” you start, leaving the word open, unfinished, unsure of how to follow it.  

Your hips shift, your body moving instinctively, rubbing yourself against his thigh in time with the rhythm of your holding hands. The sensation sends sparks shooting through you, but your focus stays on him, on the way his breath hitches, on the way his fingers grip yours tighter.  

He’s soft there, on his thighs. The skin is plush and fluffy in a way he rarely shows to anyone but you. It’s intimate, that softness, a vulnerability he keeps hidden from the world but offers to you without hesitation.  

“…ness.” he completes.  

Profoundness.  

It feels bigger than the moment, bigger than the two of you, and yet it’s tethered here, grounded in the heat and closeness of your bodies.  

His hand tightens over yours, guiding you with more urgency now, his movements less controlled, more desperate. His eyes lock on yours, wide and glistening, and you can see everything in them — his need, his fear, his devotion.  

And love. Always love.  

You lean forward, lips brushing against his ear, and whisper, “Show me?”  

A command, a plea, a promise all wrapped into one. And he does. 

“I can count this as my present…if it makes you feel better.” 

His fingers toy with the bow on your panties, that delicate little detail that always seems to fuck with his head. It’s so small, so dainty, so perfectly out of place between the rough pads of his fingertips. His hands aren’t particularly big, but somehow, you make them feel enormous. You make him feel enormous.

Almost…wrong.  

You nod, your breath catching, and the sight of you offering yourself like that — open, willing, waiting — pulls a groan from deep in his chest.  

“God…” he breathes, the word dragged out.  

The way you give yourself to him. Every time. All the time. It feels so wrong.  

It feels like the only thing that’s ever been right.  

His hand dips lower, and he rubs the tip of himself over the fabric that clings to you, already damp, already sticking to every curve and dip of your shape. Now it sticks to him too, and the friction of it, the teasing pressure, makes his jaw clench.  

You shiver, your body trembles as you try to hold yourself steady, but it’s too much.  

And yet, not enough.  

Your legs weaken, and you drop back down onto him, pressing yourself against his lap with a need that borders on desperation. The heat of him, the solidity, the sheer realness of him, makes your breath stutter.  

It’s too much-  

It’s not enough.  

He exhales sharply, his hands flying to your hips to hold you steady, to keep you from sliding away, but his grip isn’t tight enough to stop you from moving. It never is. You grind against him, the thin barrier of fabric doing nothing to dull the sensation, and his head falls back against the pillow with a muffled curse.  

“Fuck, baby…” His voice is strained now, thick with the weight of everything he feels but can’t quite say.  

The bow beneath his fingertips feels almost absurd in contrast to the heat between you, but it grounds him somehow. He tugs at it gently, watching it stretch and twist, and the sight of it makes his head spin. It’s delicate, almost too delicate. 

Like you.  

He knows better. You aren’t fragile. You just let him treat you like you are. It ruins him every time.  

You both need more.  

His hand slips lower, finding the edge of the fabric, and with a slow movement, he pushes it to the side. The wetness there makes him shiver, his breath catching as he lets his fingers toy with you for a moment, drawing soft, stuttering sounds from your lips.  

And then, finally, he pushes himself in.  

Slowly.

You wince, your body tensing, and the ache is back. That familiar, consuming ache — the one that feels like it starts in your chest and radiates outward, like it’s eating you alive.  

The closest of closeness.  

The most you could possibly get.  

And you still feel so utterly empty.  

He notices, of course he notices. He always notices.  

“It’s okay, baby, it’s ‘kay…shhh.” he whispers, like he’s trying to soothe a wild animal — you feel like one. His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, pressing you gently into the curve of his neck. “I don’t like to think of people…of…I don’t want to think of you suffering. But then you do.”  

His hips roll, slow and measured, and the stretch of him inside you makes your breath hitch. It’s too much and not enough all at once, and you don’t know how to reconcile the two.  

“You breathe at such a rate that you’re bound to suffer, sweetie.” he murmurs, his words almost lost in the rhythm of his movements.  

“I…I don’t know if it’s pain or pleasure.” you choke out, your voice muffled against his shoulder. Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, and you sniffle, clinging to him, to the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely.  

His pace is so slow, so tender, that it hurts in its kindness. Every thrust feels like a question, every withdrawal like an apology.  

“Reality is pain,” he says, his voice breaking slightly, “but we bring out the pleasure, in each other, with each other.”  

You can feel it in the way his hands roam your body, always searching, always reassuring. But even as he speaks, you can tell he’s fighting his own demons. His mind flickers through the darker corners of himself, the parts he tries to keep hidden. He wonders if he’s hurting you more than helping you, if his presence in your life is a blessing or a curse.  

You, meanwhile, can’t stop cataloging him.  

The way his jaw clenches and unclenches with every thrust. The beads of sweat gathering at his temple. The soft, almost imperceptible tremor in his voice when he whispers your name.  

You wonder if he feels it too — that emptiness. If he’s trying to fill it the same way you are, with this act, with this closeness.  

You wonder if it’s working for him.  

Because for you, it’s both too much and not enough.  

You press your lips to his shoulder, kissing the damp skin there, tasting salt of sweat and tears, and heat, and him.

“Do you feel it?”  

His movements slow even further, his body stilling for a moment.  

“I feel everything.” he finally says. His hands tighten on you, pulling you closer, as if that’s even possible. “You make me feel everything.”  

So you kept offering yourself to him. Because it was the only thing that made sense. Because in those moments, when words failed him, when he avoided eye contact like the answers were buried somewhere else, he’d offer you the deeper meaning of his touch.  

He was avoidant, yes. Could be classed an asshole, if you wanted to simplify it. He wouldn’t talk. Not too often, not too much. 

Unless he did.  

When he thought you needed it so desperately that you wouldn’t make it out without the explicitness, without the explanations. He’d relent. He’d offer you a sliver of his mind, a glimpse into that labyrinth of thoughts he kept so well-guarded.  

And sometimes, those words would only make it worse.  

It’s hard to overstate. The impact he had. 

Has.  

The chokehold.  

“Tighter.” Your voice is a rasp, your breath already unsteady, but you say it anyway. His hand rests on your throat, not pressing yet, just holding, and you arch into the weight of it. “Tighter.”  

His gaze sharpens. There’s something unreadable in his eyes. A pause. A moment of hesitation. Then his grip tightens, and the air between you seems to still.  

He turns pain into something beautiful.  

“Take me.” you whisper, your voice a low, almost imperceptible plead. His fingers begin to move.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Against your neck, as if testing the rhythm of your pulse.  

Intuitive. Always.  

Then he takes.  

His free hand finds your jaw, thumb pressing against your lower lip until your mouth falls open. He’s watching you, watching the way your body responds to him, the way your chest rises and falls in its shallowness.  

Knuckles knock against your teeth as he slides his fingers inside, pads pressing against your tastebuds, filling the space until you’re choking on him. Nails scrape against the back of your throat, and you gag, tears springing to your eyes.  

Impactful.  

“Good girl.” he murmurs. Like velvet over steel. The praise is quiet, but it ignites something primal in you. You whimper around his fingers, and he groans, barely holding himself together.  

He watches the tears spill over, watches the way your lips stretch around him, and something in him snaps. His hand tightens further on your throat, cutting off just enough air to make you feel weightless. To make you float in that space between pleasure and pain. Until you can’t tell them apart. Until you can’t settle on either one. 

You grab at his wrist, not to pull him away but to anchor yourself to him. Because…he’s everything. Your air, your gravity, your entire world condensed into the roughness of his touch and the way he looks at you.  

“Breathe, baby.” he says. His hand loosens slightly, giving you just enough to draw in a shaky breath around his fingers. “I’ve got you. Always.”  

You believe him.  

You have to.

He is your only salvation from this pain. The doer and undoer. Cause and effect. The wound and the salve.  

And the aura of him remains, remains…

Remains.

“Oh-”  

“Fuck-”  

The words tear from both of you in unison. A tangled cry. You’re unravelling together. And it feels like the closest you’ve ever been to him. And yet…it still isn’t enough.  

His hands grip your hips tightly, fingers pressing into your flesh. He thrusts deep, every movement a combination of tenderness and force, as though he’s pouring everything he can into you, trying to fill the empty spaces you both know he never fully can.  

At this moment, it feels like he could.  

He drags against every nerve inside you, heavy and thick, and you feel the way he throbs, the heat of him building, threatening to spill over. It’s overwhelming, the way he stretches you, the way every inch of him feels. He moves with an unsteady rhythm now, hips stuttering, his breath hot and ragged against your neck.  

You’re both trembling. You can’t tell where your body ends and his begins.  

“Shit…” he gasps, voice strained, breaking, as his pace falters. He’s so deep now, the tip of him brushing places that make you cry out.

Again. And again. And again.

That make your body tighten around him, pulling him even closer. It’s messy now, desperate. He’s losing himself inside you.  

“Fuck, baby, I-” His voice catches, and then he’s gone. 

You feel him twitch inside you, sharp and insistent, and then he’s spilling, warmth flooding you in waves. It’s a slow, pulsating release, and you feel every surge of it, every shudder that wracks his body as he empties himself into you. He presses as deep as he can go, burying himself completely, as if he could carve a place for himself inside you, as if he could leave a part of himself that will never fade.  

He’s soothing from the inside. A plea for forgiveness he can’t bring himself to ask for aloud. He gives you little pieces of himself — small, fragmented traces of his love, his essence, his everything.  

And it’s insufficient.  

It will always be insufficient for the vastness of your longing, for the endless craving that gnaws at the edges of your soul. He feels it too. You can tell by the way his hands tighten on your waist, by the way his forehead presses against yours, like he’s trying to fuse the two of you together.  

He knows.  

He can’t help but feel that way, that what he gives you will never be enough. But what more can he offer than this? Than himself?

The peak caves slowly, unbearably, and it’s not just pleasure — it’s everything. It’s love and desperation and grief for the moments that slip through your fingers. 

It’s heartbreaking.  

So you smile.  

You don’t mean to do it. You don’t even realise you’re doing it until you see the reflection of it in his eyes. But it’s there — a soft, almost involuntary curve of your lips that speaks to something deeper than words.  

You don’t have to keep smiling.  

But you do.  

Because this is the best thing.  

The best he can give you. The best you can take. The best the two of you can be in a world that feels like it’s always working against you.  

And when the peak finally crests, when your body shatters around him, you don’t stop smiling.  

Even as the tears spill over. Even as the ache in your chest sharpens. Even as the world starts to creep back in, threatening to pull him away from you.  

You smile, because for this fleeting, fragile moment, he’s yours…

Yours. Yours. Yours.

…Completely.

He gives you a great desire to love. 

a/n: Happy Birthday, Al.

[gregmarriage]

happy gwen left the womb day!!!

[preserve-or-raze]

my tags got out of hand

i keep thinking about hobbies and how i often spill over myself to pick up new ones. i have adhd, i end up trying something for like a month and then just getting far enough in it that i move on, satisfied.

and that should be fine; but it's never fine.

i am a pretty decent artist; but i can't just make art for my dnd campaign, i should be selling dnd maps and character designs and scene setting pieces. i can't just make my friends matching earrings, i need to get an etsy and ship them internationally and take bulk orders. i make pretty good props and decorations and use them to throw my friends parties - but i should be running a party planning business and start taking paying clients and networking and putting my skills to actual use.

for some reason, i never figured out the specifics of pottery. it was a fun class and i enjoyed myself - and still, i'm embarrassed, years later, that i put in all that useless effort. everything i make has to be stunning. stellar. i should have applied myself more. maybe i'm too lazy. maybe i'm broken and selfish and needy. actually creative people would have kept going; they would be bettering themselves at every possible opportunity.

we find ourselves in this trap, even accidentally: we need to commodify our time, because it is a commodity. if we spend our efforts and our time not earning, isn't that the same thing as burning free money? and god forbid you ever take up a hobby that ends up being more expensive than you thought. you sit in your car and you look at the receipt and in your head you hear a conversation that isn't even happening - your mom or your friend or your partner all saying oh great. not this shit again. it's always something with you, and it never actually means anything.

i have realized this horrible thing, recently - i'll get excited to start a project, pick up a new hobby. and then i just... stop myself. i start thinking about the amount of time it will take, and how it'll look in my monthly budget. what if i can't even produce a good enough final product. sure, it's exciting to think about how i could make my friend her own custom dice. but i'm just polluting the earth if i don't get it right. better not bother. better not try.

restless, i get caught in the negative space. the feeling that oh god, i want to create. and that horrible sense - yeah, but i don't have the time to just put to waste.

[selfcarecap]

MUSE [L.H.]

Logan Howlett x reader

summary: Logan would never admit it to anyone, but over the course of his long life he has attempted to draw maybe once or twice. He hasn’t done it in years, maybe even decades, but he’s struck by inspiration when he meets you. Of course, no one can know that Wolverine draws, so he does it in the dead of night, sliding anonymous envelopes with the finished drawings of you under your door. When he sees how much you love them, he wonders if you could also love the person behind them. 

warnings: smut 18+ but with an actual plot for once (brief m masturbation, oral f and m rec, unprotected piv sex, kind of accidental (but consensual obv) facial; pet names: bub, baby, good girl, princess), soft!Logan but he won’t admit it, also soft!reader, fluff (although the summary makes it sounds a bit more dramatic than it is tbh), implication that reader has curly hair, implied mutant/X-men!reader, (obviously the pic doesn’t represent the envelopes Logan uses lol he’s not doing all that)

word count: 7.3k

also i feel the need to say something about the fact that it’s Hugh Jackman’s birthday today lol so uh thanks for being huge jacked man and for giving us our Logan yay <3 | gorgeous divider by @plutism

It’s everything Logan is the opposite of – he would never tell a soul – but over the course of his long life, Logan has attempted to draw maybe once or twice. It’s not really him, but he did have a phase or two.

When he meets you, he hasn’t even thought of picking up a pencil in years. Ever since you’ve been at the mansion though, Logan’s fingertips twitch with the urge to start sketching your features every time he’s with you. It gets hard to ignore after a few days.

He waits until he’s known you a few weeks, there’s no way in hell he’d ask if he could draw you. He’d probably embarrass you by asking, and embarrass himself by admitting he’s into fucking art. That’s not him. 

Except, well, sometimes it is, when he’s inspired. And you’re nothing if not inspiring. 

He gives in to the urge to get out pencil and paper again, waiting until everyone else has gone to sleep. The first few drawings are shit, he feels like they’re almost an insult to you. It’s not that he’s accidentally drawing you ugly, it just doesn’t look like you. So he practises. 

Logan Howlett sits down at night to practise drawing. 

He picks out a few other things to draw then, to ease the pressure that comes with drawing the woman he… is friends with. Yeah, you’re a friend. And he totally knows that you’d never go for someone as rugged as him, that’s for sure. You deserve much more. So much more. 

But after a few nights he feels more confident in his drawing skills again, but still, as much as he can picture you in his mind – he can do that absolutely perfectly – he’s not too sure he could really draw you accurately.

So he gets Rogue to show him how goddamn fucking Instagram works so that he can look at some of your pictures and use them as a model. 

He doesn’t know what you’re doing to him; you’ve got him using social media.

He can’t believe it, but the first time he seriously attempts to draw you, it’s perfect. It’s a small drawing, not even as big as his palm, capturing your gorgeous face. He thinks of adding another few lines to your eyebrows, or to your hair or another small one to the outline of your lips, but he doesn’t want to mess with it. 

Logan hates how drawing makes him overthink, but he loves how it feels to create something other than violence with his hands for once – something that may even be the opposite. 

He hides the drawing in between the pages of a book, and hides the book under a pile of random clutter on his desk that not even he would normally spare a glance at. But when he lies down to go to sleep, he gets all the stuff out again and gets out the drawing. He wants to see it again. And he can’t leave it there anyway, what if the pressure from all the items on top of it smudges it? 

But he doesn’t know what else to do with it. He can’t really have a drawing of you sitting in his room. What if someone sees? Then what is he gonna do with it instead? 

He finally lets himself think the thought that’s politely been waiting to be allowed into his brain from the moment he decided he might take up drawing again. 

He could give it to you. 

Logan knows his drawing isn’t objectively a masterpiece, but if he’s proud of it he has to acknowledge that that probably means it’s at least decent. And you’re definitely the type of person to appreciate something like this. It’s weird admitting to himself that he’s even proud of what he’s drawn; he’s done so much in this world, who cares about a little drawing? 

The only thing is that Logan isn’t sure if he’s ready for anyone to see this side of him. To see the side that has him staying up until 3AM to finely trace the lines of someone’s eyelashes and cheekbones and lips, the side that makes him feel calm inside. 

He knows it’s stupid to hide but he just can’t. He decides he’ll leave the drawing in your room in an envelope, maybe a pink one to show you it’s not a creepy threat but meant as a sign of adoration, from someone who couldn’t resist but try to recreate your beauty. He won’t write his name on it, he just wants you to have it. 

Sappy motherfucker. 

He puts the small drawing back into the book and carefully pushes it between his mattress and the bedframe to protect it during the night. God, who even is he – protecting a tiny piece of paper? He groans at himself as he turns around to go to sleep. 

He dreams of making a thousand drawings of you, with you as his live model. His muse. 

You’re his girlfriend in his dream, he thinks. 

He’s sitting in a chair in your room, drawing you as you tell him about your day. You’re lying on your bed on your tummy, elbows propped up to support your head. You’re gently kicking your feet in the air behind you, wearing nothing but a t-shirt of Logan’s, some silly graphic socks, panties with little cherries on them, and a bright, bashful smile as Logan attempts to capture your glowing features in a sketch block he’s dedicated to drawings of you. 

He wakes up with morning wood. 

Logan is no stranger to jerking off with you on his mind, so he spits in his hand and slips it beneath his boxers, stroking himself as he thinks of you. He imagines you on top of him as he jerks his cock, imagines you under him, or with your legs around his head, or you between his knees on the floor. He cums quickly and hard, leaving his boxers wet and sticky.

He goes for a run after he’s dealt with it and picks up an envelope on his way. He’s doubting himself but he knows he has to just do it. He’d doubt himself even more if he pussied out – a grown man who can’t even slide an envelope under someone’s door. 

So Logan mans up and, like an idiot, kisses the fucking drawing before he puts it into the envelope. He licks the edges of it to close it and writes your name in the most anonymous handwriting he can muster and adds a little heart. 

It’s soo stupid. 

He makes sure no one is anywhere near your bedroom, walks up to your door, and slides the envelope underneath. Except he didn’t check if you were in your room. As soon as the envelope disappears beneath your door, he hears a short creak from your bed and your soft footsteps. 

He hears the small and adorable noise of curiosity you let out – a confused hm? – and then he quickly and quietly makes his way down the hallway. He hears your voice about ten seconds later, an intrigued hello? as you open the door, but you don’t investigate further, closing the door behind you. 

Logan’s heart is beating so fast. He’s never doing this shit again. 

He’s antsy all day, waiting for some type of reaction from you. Except you don’t know that the drawing is from him so he’s probably not even getting one, and he can’t conspicuously come to your room the same day you receive an anonymous drawing of yourself. 

It’s also when the insecurity settles in. Maybe he should have added a few more lines or started the entire drawing anew. Who does he think he is pretending to be an artist? 

He shakes those thoughts off as he starts training with the punching bag in the gym. It’s not something that he necessarily needs to train, but it gets rid of some of that pointless energy. This isn’t him, worried about some lines he drew on a piece of paper – a scrap of a paper, really. Who cares about something like that? Certainly not him. 

He sleeps dreamlessly and wakes up the next day disappointed that he didn’t get to dream about being your boyfriend again. God, what are you doing to him? Making him think about being boyfriend and girlfriend. He’s pathetic. You’re a friend and nothing more, and that’s fine. You probably don’t like him like that and he can deal with that.

-

He’s not even thinking of the drawing anymore, truly, when he walks into the kitchen the next morning. It only comes to mind when he sees you, alone in the kitchen, leaning over the counter to scroll on your phone, your weird green coffee (“it’s Matcha, Logan”) next to you as you stir it mindlessly with a metal straw. 

“Hi,” you look up with one of those sweet smiles of yours, but redirect your attention to your phone. 

At least you don’t immediately say something like hey, you know that drawing you slid under my door? It was so ugly I threw it away. Since when do you even draw? 

Not that he was worried you would or anything. He hasn’t been thinking about it. Obviously. Why would he? And he knows you would never expect that it’s him; that’s the only reason he did it. He never would have given you the drawing if he thought you could have even the slightest inkling that Logan would be someone who draws. But he still wants to know what you think of it. 

“You want some toast too?” You ask, putting your phone down and turning to get some bread. He sits down at the other side of the kitchen counter and as his eyes flicker to your green drink (he still doesn’t get it), he sees it. 

“Is that–” my drawing, he almost said, “What is that?” He pretends to be confused, drawing his eyebrows together, trying his best to look inquisitive, “No toast by the way, thanks.” 

You have one of those clear phone cases, filled with a bunch of tiny pictures and stickers (and is that your credit card?). But wedged in front of all of those is Logan’s drawing. 

“Did you draw it?” He asks. 

You turn around, giggling, “No, I don’t draw. And anyway, I wouldn’t be drawing pictures of myself. I got it in an envelope under my door yesterday, photocopied it because I was scared it would bend in my phone case. I don’t know who drew it.” 

“Secret admirer?” 

Smiling, you say, “I don’t know. I won’t get my hopes up. But the person must definitely be fond of me to draw me like that.” 

“Like what?” He asks, unsure if he’s about to be offended. 

“I don’t know, just, so beautiful. I’m not saying I’m not pretty or anything, but this looks… I don’t look like that. I wish I did. I can’t believe someone actually sees me like that. It’s stupid but I….” You trail off and, conveniently, the toast is done at the same time and you move on to that. 

But Logan won’t let you, “What’s stupid?” 

You turn towards him with a shy smile, “I’m embarrassed.”

Logan stays silent. He can’t seem too pushy and draw attention to himself, but his silence makes you confess.

“I cried when I first saw it yesterday. It’s one of the best gifts I’ve ever gotten. And it’s the nicest compliment I’ve ever received, for someone to perceive me in such an artistic way.” 

Logan makes a noise of satisfaction and smiles, asking you to pass your phone so he can look at it more – pretending it’s his first time seeing it. If you think that way about it, maybe the three more lines he was going to add aren’t that important after all. 

The problem is that it makes him want to draw more, his stupid heart melting at your reaction to something he made– no, created. 

-

After a week, he figures he has to give in. Drawing another picture of you is on his mind twenty-four seven. 

It doesn’t help that he still catches you staring at the copy of it in your phone case lovingly more than once a day and you’ve put the original drawing in a special little frame on your nightstand. He thinks he’s sappy for drawing it but he doesn’t think the same of you for enjoying the drawing. 

This is for you. It’s not about him. He’s not an artist or anything like that, he’s just doing something kind for someone he cares about (which is honestly sappy enough but he tries to ignore that). He’s usually more of a silent carer but maybe that’s why he likes this. He’s not making it a grand gesture, not making it a thing that he’s the one drawing for you. It’s just for you to enjoy. 

He’ll just make this second drawing and silently put it in your room, and he’s the last person you’ll suspect. 

But of course now that he knows it means something to you, he can’t get anything right. He draws your hair too curly, then not curly enough. He draws your nose too big, then too small. Your eyes end up crooked. He can’t erase too much because it’ll look sloppy, so even the drawing he gets almost perfect, he ruins with a few final additions at the end. 

It takes him an entire month for the next drawing, and it feels more like him that it’s been making him so angry that he couldn’t get it right at first. Maybe he had the wrong picture of artists. They’re always talking about pain, aren’t they, and that’s what he experiences too (over a drawing. Who is he?). 

He takes another few days to keep track of your routine, to monitor when you’ll be in your room. He can’t have it be as close as last time. 

He ends up doing it in the evening. There’s a time after dinner when most of the team stays together to watch tv, just talk, or play some games. It’s normal for some of you to wander off, come back or stick around a bit longer. It won’t be suspicious if he leaves for a few minutes and comes back.

Logan wants nothing more than to follow you when you say that you’re going to your room for the night; he wants to see your reaction. But he can’t. All he can do is go up to his own bedroom fifteen minutes later, lingering in the hallway longer than he needs to.

Just as he’s about to give up and go to sleep, you walk down the hallway, coming back from the bathroom.

“Logan!” you call all excitedly when you see him, and his heart skips a beat. Do you know the drawing is from him? 

“Look,” you take his arm and pull him to your room, “I got another drawing!”

He breathes out in relief; you don’t know it’s from him. He smiles when you hold up the drawing, already framed.

“Were you expecting to get another drawing?” he teases.

“Noo, but the frames came in a pack of two. Isn’t it gorgeous?”

Logan looks at how your eyes sparkle, how proudly you’re showing him this drawing. All the work he put into it was definitely worth it. It’s another picture of your face, this time from a new angle, and with your hair styled differently, curls coiled another way from last time.

Logan clears his throat, remembering to keep up his act. “It looks good.”

“Good?” you take the frame from his hands defensively, “It’s beautiful.”

He chuckles, “Sorry, I don’t know much about this type of thing. It is beautiful though.” He’s looking at you instead of his drawing.

“It is. And you don’t have to know much about art or drawing to see how pretty this is. I still can’t believe someone would take the time to make these for me.”

Logan remains silent instead of saying what he wants to tell you. Of course he would take that time for you – and you don’t even know how much time it really took him. If there’s someone who’s worth it, it’s you.

Seeing your pleased smile at something he made for you, he decides he’s never going to stop drawing you.

-

He’s on a roll for some time. He’s better at drawing again now that he’s getting in practice, and he makes five drawings of you within the next weeks. Logan watches the collection of them on your nightstand grow fuller, along with your smile that somehow gets bigger every time you tell him about a new drawing.

It’s a wonder you haven’t caught on yet, but you don’t seem particularly interested in snooping around to find out who it is. You respect the person’s privacy, but you’ve confessed to him that you’d still love to know. 

“I won’t try to find out who it is. I won’t push it if they don’t want me to know… but, I mean, anyone would want to know, wouldn’t they?”

You’ve adopted the nickname of ‘secret admirer’ for this mysterious ‘they’, after Logan used the term about ten times. You were reluctant at first, because the person isn’t calling themself a secret admirer – you’d just be putting words in their mouth. But after seeing how much more beautiful the drawings get each time, you’ve accepted and admitted that, okay, yes, the person must be an admirer.

Your secret admirer Logan is particularly proud of his latest drawing, excited to bring it up to your room tonight. 

But this time he’s sloppy. He’s stayed for a few post-dinner card games with the team, and it’s risky, because you’ve been saying that it’s your last game for the last two rounds. But he also knows that you always say that, and never mean it.

Logan gets up to leave, and he hears Scott convincing you to play just one more round.

It’s stupid, really, risking it like that. Even if he’s gone from your room in time before you come upstairs, you could easily guess that it’s Logan. He’s the first one leaving the round tonight, so your first assumption could be that it was him.

Maybe subconsciously he wants to get caught. He’s seen how you light up at every drawing, and no matter how much you respect your admirer’s anonymity, of course you want to know who’s dedicating so much time and work to drawings of you. Of course it’s crossed your mind that the person isn’t just doing this because they’re a good friend. They’re drawing your face because they think it’s beyond beautiful.

Logan doesn’t really know why he hasn’t told you yet that he likes you. He’s good at flirting, and he’s attractive – he’s not blind. But with you it’s different, there’s a bigger risk, for the both of you. The older he gets, the harder it is to open up to yet another person. You’re friends, and you talk about personal things, but confessing that he’s in love with you is different.

Not to mention this stupid recurring dream he keeps having, in which you find out it’s Logan who’s been drawing you, and suddenly your opinion of the drawings changes. You don’t like him back like that, and suddenly the drawings feel creepy if you think about him staying up late drawing your face.

He rolls his eyes at himself and gets the thought out of his head, taking the small envelope out of the back pocket of his jeans, smoothing his hand over it. He looks around, making sure no one sees him.

Logan bends down to slide the envelope under your door as usual, but one of the corners of the paper catches against the wall, and he quickly opens it to check the drawing isn’t damaged. His heart is beating so fast, he feels stupid. 

He can hear footsteps, still far away, but he can hear them. Logan messily licks the edges of the envelope to close it back up, but it’s not sticking. He can’t decide between shoving it under the door like this or leaving now and bringing it back the next day. He can feel his heart hammering against his ribcage now.

Then he hears it. He miscalculated how far the footsteps were.

“Logan?”

He turns around slowly, and it feels like the world has frozen.

You come closer, looking at him and then at the letter that he must’ve dropped. It hasn’t made it under your door yet.

He says something before you can, “I’m delivering for someone else.”

“Who?” you ask, bending down to pick up the envelope. If he wasn’t petrified, he’d enjoy the view of you bent over in front of him.

He breathes. He can’t have anyone taking credit for his work, for his art (you called it that recently, he would never). But his heart is beating so fast he doesn’t know what the fuck to do or say. 

This is exactly why he never wanted to do any of this. He’s making a fool out of himself and that doesn’t usually happen, especially not over a piece of paper. Logan is confident, cocky even, he can admit that, and has no idea how to deal with things like being nervous; he never has to. This really isn’t him.

You don’t wait for an answer and look at the envelope. You open it so carefully, gently taking the drawing out with your fingertips. You’re treating it with so much care he immediately feels better. Again, this isn’t for him, it’s for you. (Well, it’s for him too but it’ll take him a while to admit that). 

He’s drawn your smile this time. You were happy in most of the drawings before, but he focussed more on the eyes, and your lips only ever tugged up in a slight smile. 

This one is a full-toothed grin, mid-laugh. 

You two were drinking last weekend. He barely felt it but your tipsy, giggly mood was contagious. He couldn’t imagine himself feeling any other way but blissful when you’re happy around him. 

It started when Logan made a casual comment about something silly Scott was wearing that night, and he had you giggling. He wanted to immediately hear that angelic sound again, of course, and so he gave you every joke about your shared friends he could think of – all light-hearted, but he was still glad you two were alone. 

It was the stupidest joke of all that made you really laugh, some dumb comparison between Xavier and Caillou. You probably wouldn’t even giggle at it anymore now, but in the moment it was so funny you almost spat out your drink from the deep belly laugh he drew from you, holding onto his bicep so you wouldn’t fall over as tears formed in your eyes from how hard you were laughing. He wanted to engrave the image on his soul. At least he got your smile on paper.

You look up at him now, eyes filled with tears. 

“You drew this?” you ask.

He nods softly. He can’t say it but he hopes the drawings convey how in love with you he is. 

Suddenly, Logan feels like his heart has stopped beating.

You’re kissing him. 

You’ve leaped up, wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, and now your lips are on his. 

He feels your mouth falter, probably because he’s being a fucking idiot and not kissing you back. Logan places his hands on your waist to pull you further towards him. Then his brain finally catches up and he can do what he’s wanted to for so long. 

He takes your chin with two fingers and angles you so you can kiss him easier. He closes his eyes and revels in the feeling of your soft, warm lips against him. You’re soft and warm all over. Your top has slipped up over his fingertips at your sides, and he slides his hands further around your back to support you against him even better. 

Logan’s tongue pushes at your lower lip, and you let out the sexiest, tiny moan of surprise as you part your lips for him, granting him access. 

His tongue touches the tip of yours and from then on your cravings intensify. You feel your way over his muscular shoulders, his big biceps and over the hard planes of his chest. When you’ve had a good feel there, your hands grip his shirt in desperation and Logan gets even hungrier for you. He gently bites at your lower lip, but then you shriek into his mouth and squirm out of his grasp. He opens his eyes wide. 

You grip Logan’s forearm for support when you bend down in a panic, picking up the drawing you just dropped. You let out a big breath of relief when you see it hasn’t been damaged. 

“You made me drop it!” You slap a hand to his chest; it doesn’t actually hurt and it’s not meant to, but it leaves a pleasant tingle behind instead. 

“I didn’t do anything”, Logan laughs, and you shake your head at him with a smile.

You take him into your room where you make him sit on the bed while you stare at the new drawing in awe. “I didn’t know you draw”, you say without taking your eyes off it.

“No one else knows.”

You pretend to zip your lips, smiling, “It’s our secret.” Logan can tell that you like that. He likes it too. It feels much better to share a secret with you than to be keeping one from you.

“I’ll only draw for you anyway, so there’s no point in telling anyone else.”

“You’re really good. I love the drawings.”

Logan gives a satisfied hum at your words, “You inspired me. Can’t have you walking around all pretty and not expect me to try and recreate it.”

You straddle Logan and hover over his lap to hug him, “They’re the best thing anyone's ever given to me. Do I really look like that?” You say the last question more quietly, and Logan wraps his arms around your sides, careful not to bump your hand that’s still holding the drawing.

“You’re more gorgeous than anything I could ever capture, but I think it comes close. I didn’t change anything about you to make you more beautiful. I couldn’t if I tried. I just tried to draw you as accurately as possible, that’s why it’s so beautiful.”

“I really love it,” you say again, happily staring at the details of the drawing. Hearing you say the word love so much tempts Logan, but he doesn’t want to move too fast. He doesn’t want to overwhelm you. He does, however, want to kiss you again.

Logan carefully takes the framed drawing and puts it on your nightstand. You push your mouth against his before he can initiate the kiss, and he grins against your lips.

You don’t know how to put your feelings into words, so you’re kissing him instead. He pulls you down so that you’re not hovering over but sitting on his lap, and the mood immediately shifts to something different. Logan doesn’t want to overwhelm you, but if you’re ready then he’ll take anything he can get.

Your chest is pressed against Logan’s, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest when he breathes. You may or may not be pressing your boobs against his body on purpose.

“God, baby, I’ve waited so long for this,” he says, already breathless, as his hands trail down your back, leaving goosebumps behind.

“You’ve waited long?” you raise your eyebrows, grinning, “I’ve wanted to fuck you since the day I met you.”

You see the look in Logan’s eyes changing as he bites his lip, “Who says I didn’t want the same?”

You giggle, “Why did it take us so long?”

Logan chuckles, readjusting you so that you’re even closer to him, “I was too busy to actually talk to you, just been starin’ at you so I could draw you.” His cheeks have the faintest red tint, and you kiss them, hugging him.

You whisper into his ear, “Then it was worth the wait. And anyway, it’s not talking that I’m interested in right now.”

He pulls you back to look into your eyes, then at your lips. “Where do you want me?” he asks. You giggle slightly helplessly; you weren’t entirely prepared to have a man like Logan at your mercy like this tonight.

“You can do whatever you want,” you say softly, kissing him.

Logan’s lips are hungry against yours, strings of spit falling between you two, but he pauses the kiss to lie you on your back. “Wanna eat you out,” he husks, “Been dying to know what you taste like forever, bub. Can I?” He reaches for the hem of your top, and you nod so that he can pull it off you, admiring what’s underneath. 

“Sometimes I make myself cum imagining that I’m going down on you,” you confess somewhat shyly, but you figure he’s been so vulnerable for you that you can share a secret too.

Logan smirks, and pulls off his shirt, “Maybe we can make your dream come true then.”

You move to sit up, but he insists on eating you out first. You both take off all your clothes, staring at each other with huge smiles on your faces for a few moments. You’ve never seen Logan this happy.

“Look at you, baby. So pretty,” he leans down to kiss your lips, then down your neck, all the way to your legs. He spreads them, lying down between them as he all but drools at the sight of your wet pussy.

You get nervous all of a sudden. “It’s been a while,” you tell him. He looks up, taking your hand, enveloping it completely in his much bigger one.

“You sure about this? We can wait,” he gently kisses your knuckles, and a warmth spreads in your chest, slowing your heartbeat down a little.

“I’m sure,” you nod, and Logan comes up again to kiss you. The head of his hard cock catches against the space above your clit, and you both look down between your bodies. When Logan looks back up at you, his eyes are desperately begging you. You place your hand on his head, threading your fingers through his hair as he moves down your body.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy,” he mumbles into your thigh, kissing you there. You giggle, getting comfortable, your hand never leaving his hair.

Logan starts eating you out, his tongue gentle but determined against your clit.

“Taste so good, baby. Even better than I imagined.” You hum at Logan’s words, already feeling yourself come undone with his mouth on your wet pussy.

You sink further into the mattress when he starts sucking on your clit, licking into your pussy like a man starved every few moments, and your thighs squeeze around Logan’s head, and it’s even better than in his fantasies.

“Feels really good,” you tell him, pulling on his hair to stop yourself from moving too much, and Logan moans against your skin. Hearing your words motivates him even more, and he pushes two fingers into your wet pussy. He curls his fingers, rubbing up against that spot that makes you see stars.

Your back arches as you cum, Logan’s lips wrapped around your clit as your legs push harder against his head, and all he does is moan, revelling in the feeling.

Logan doesn’t stop licking your pussy until you’re tugging his head away by his hair, and he comes up for air with a grin on his face. You smile back, pulling him up to kiss him. You give yourself only a few seconds of recovery time before you make him sit down. You know you’d never have enough strength to actually make him get into a different position, but he lets you.

You push him onto his back, getting between his legs. You’re blinking up at him all prettily when you ask, “Can I suck your dick? Please?”

Logan huffs to himself because he can’t believe how hot you are, can’t believe that this is really finally happening. He tells you yes – he has no more words to describe how badly he wants this – and he watches you wrap your pretty lips around his cock.

It’s hard to grasp that it’s really you doing this right now – the woman he’s been into for so long. His cock is in your mouth and you look so gorgeous with spit running down from your lips, and all he can think of is all the dirty drawings he can now make of you, if you’ll let him.

He closes his eyes when you take him deeper, enveloping him with your warm, wet mouth. “Good girl,” he whispers absent-mindedly, too gone to say much more.

You’re not using your hands as you suck his cock, your spit trailing down on him, and you’re so eager. But it’s also late, and he sees you getting tired, eyes blinking slower as you pause to catch your breath every few moments. He also sees the determination in your eyes, and the absolute want, but he doesn’t want you to exhaust yourself. 

You look so sexy all fucked out, strings of spit connecting your mouth to his cock as you pull away another time, giggling up at him shyly when you realise that he’s noticing you getting tired.

“Just need a second,” you wipe your mouth, out of breath, and it’s not that you’re not incredibly hot like this, but he still wants to fuck you tonight and he’s not sure that will happen if you keep going.

“C’mere, baby,” he says, reaching out his hand.

“Huh?” you ask, taking his hand nevertheless.

“Get back here, baby. I’m gonna fuck you now, alright? Don’t want you tiring yourself out.”

You let him lift you and put you on your back, but you pout, “Wanna taste you.”

Logan grins, “I’ll cum in your mouth, princess. Promise.”

You smile at his answer, satisfied, so you lie back down, pulling your legs up to your chest. His cock looks huge as he jerks himself off between your legs, rubbing the tip against your clit, making you squirm.

“Don’t know if I can take you,” you bite your lip. You’re not entirely sure if you mean it or not. You definitely want to try.

“We’ll make it fit, baby, we’ll make it fit,” Logan assures you, leaning down to press a kiss to your mouth, a mix of your wetness and his precum between your mouths. You feel his cock at your pussy, “You ready?”

“I’m ready,” you nod desperately, letting him push his cock into your pussy. He pauses after a few inches, but you wrap your legs around his waist more tightly, and he goes deeper.

“Y’okay, baby? You can take it, right?”

You nod, unable to form words with your pussy stretched like this, a combination of pleasure and pain between your legs – but it’s infinitely more pleasure.

“That’s right. You’re my good girl, hm?” He kisses along your neck as he bottoms out, and you both moan when he’s got his cock fully stuffed inside you for the first time. He pulls out slightly when you whine at the stretch, but you scratch down his back to get his attention.

“I can take it,” you tell him, and you watch the look in his eyes darken.

He begins to fuck you, the pain subsiding more with every thrust into your wet pussy. You can barely take him, but it feels good. With your slight tiredness, you feel like you’re floating on cloud nine. 

You can’t believe that Logan – your super hot friend Logan who you’ve been fantasising about for so long – is fucking you. He not only feels the same way about you, but he’s been your secret admirer this entire time, taking hours and hours out of his day to make you smile. You’re the only one he wants.

And now he’s fucking you, fucking you well, and you feel so warm inside, not just from the sex but you feel warm in your heart, because of Logan’s care.

“You okay?” he asks, stroking a hand down your face when he notices you’re not entirely present. You nod happily, smiling up at him, and you can’t talk because you feel so good.

“Good, that’s good, bub, but let me know if it gets too much,” he says as he starts rubbing your clit, watches you nod while he’s fucking you so well, and he’s so big and so deep inside of you, “Squeezing me so tight, baby, feel so fucking good.”

You cum suddenly, letting the warm pleasure flow through your body as Logan keeps fucking you through it, rubbing your clit in just the right rhythm.

“That’s my girl, taking it so well,” he moans, breaths stuttering. You slump against the pillow after a few moments, with a soft smile on your face, and Logan pulls out.

“Gonna make me cum, baby,” he jerks his cock, and you sit up on your elbows immediately, looking him in the eyes with a smile as you stick out your tongue for him. He promised.

Logan moans when he cums, painting your face in his release, jerking himself off. He holds your head in place with his other hand, aiming for your mouth but you’re making no effort to catch his cum there.

“Such a pretty fucking face, princess, ’m cumming all over it,” he rasps, shooting more ropes of his cum all over your cheeks, jacking off onto your face.

You open your eyes when he’s done and breathing heavily, and you smile up at him. You open your mouth, taking the head of his cock between your lips to suck off the last drops of cum.

“Look at you, baby. Look so fucking pretty with my cum all over your gorgeous face.”

You hum, pulling your mouth off him and licking your lips, tasting his salty release. You brush a finger over your cheek, sucking it into your mouth to taste him more. Logan kisses you then, the flavour of himself mixing between your mouths.

He cleans you up gently, carefully wiping your face with a baby wipe and kissing every inch of your cheeks afterwards. You take his face to kiss him properly, and if you didn’t seem so tired Logan would be ready for round two immediately.

“Next time you could try to actually cum in my mouth,” you tease, making Logan grin.

“Sorry, baby. Got too excited. Couldn’t focus on asking you again if it was okay.” He presses an open-mouthed kiss to your lips.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, “I liked it.”

Logan grins, “Oh I could tell you liked it, baby.” You lightly slap his chest as you giggle, pulling him in for another kiss.

You cuddle for a while, not saying much because you don’t have to. You’ve both waited for this for so long that you’re just enjoying the moment, enjoying that it finally happened.

You slip out of his arms to sit on top of him. You’re in nothing but panties, the blanket bunching around your hips. You lean your hands against his chest as you tell him more about how much the drawings delighted you. And Logan cares, of course he cares to hear that, but he’s also just a man seeing the woman he’s into naked for the first time still. 

You become quiet when you realise that he’s not listening, and you giggle, “Distracted?”

Logan grins, “Just a little fucking bit, baby.” His eyes don’t leave your body, and you laugh as you bend down to kiss him. He grabs your ass, kneading the flesh. When you slightly sit up again, your tits are near his face, and he can’t help himself. He cups your breasts, playing with your nipples, making you hum.

“I should draw these,” he looks up at you, “Should draw every perfect fucking inch of you.”

“You wanna?” You adjust how you’re seated in his lap, and you feel that he’s already half hard under you again.

“Maybe after I’ve fucked you again.”

You smile, feeling yourself growing wetter on top of him.

“Tomorrow,” he continues, and your smile drops.

“But you’ve got to get more familiar with the inspiration, right? If you’re going to draw me.”

“That’s true, baby. But I think you’re too tired.”

You smile bashfully, ignoring how your eyelids were drooping shut just a few seconds ago, “Okay, but then I’ll have more energy for tomorrow.”

“That’s my girl,” he smiles, pulling you off him to cuddle you again. He tucks you in and kisses your head. 

You turn to your side, taking one of the framed drawings and looking at it for a while. 

Logan watches you looking at it, and the sparkle in your eyes never fails to make him feel all warm inside. “Now that you actually know about it, I don’t have to draw you from memory anymore. I can study my muse in peace.”

“Aww, I’m your muse?” you beam.

“Of course you are, princess. You’re the only reason I’m drawing again.”

“I love your drawings so much.”

Logan clears his throat, and looks at you. “Well, I love you. So, I think that went into them.”

You look at him, pouting and then kissing him. “I love you too,” you say into his mouth. He grins against your lips, pulling you closer to kiss you some more. He can barely grasp that you just said that, but he’ll have enough time soon to comprehend how lucky he is. 

For now, he takes your hand, and asks, “The question might be redundant now, but do you wanna be mine? Be my girlfriend?”

“I’m already yours.”

Logan grins, takes you in his arms, and you’re still cuddling when you’re both drifting off to a peaceful sleep.

P.S. reblog with a comment and let me know your favourite moment/what you liked to get a drawing from Logan under your door tonight and a facial <33

gorgeous divider by @pommecita

[luviestarz]

jungkook fic recs! 💘 part 3

★ starry night (m) | jjk - @kithtaehyung (all you wanted to do was take your boyfriend on a super late date.)

★ Millisecond - @kookiepleasee (Jungkook just can’t get enough of you, but is too afraid to make a move, so he just admires you from afar, every day.)

★ Home: risky birthday 🔞 - @bonny-kookoo (In which you really don't know how he talked you into this.)

★ just a little... | jjk drabble - @soft4gguk

★ "big tiddie anime bitches" | jjk - @h0neypjm (Jungkook, bless his heart, has an obsession. An obsession with big titty anime girls and the idea of you dressed as them. His birthday is coming up, what better time to fulfil his weeb fantasies than on Jungkook's special day.)

★ WARM NIGHTS & CLEAR LINES — JJK (m.) - @awrkive (there haven't been a lot of people who have come into your life that became important to you – and you didn’t expect jeon jungkook to be one if it – not at all. but what started as a casual relationship turned into more than that, and now you find yourself deeply in love with him – and happily so. or; your first "i love you" comes out completely wrong.)

★ ( 전정국 ) . . . BURNING HOUR jeon jungkook - @jungqkook (there’s nothing better than spending an entire day at your boyfriend’s yatch, tanning and waiting for the sunset with a drink in your hand… too bad your boyfriend had other plans for you.)

★ fill with fire, exhale desire, m | jjk - @whatifyoulivelikethat (He smokes cigarettes. You hate it. You always have a lighter in your pocket. He is pissed off because it isn't for him, you say. So much is said, but the truth is in the silence.)

★ RAINY DAYS | JEON JUNGKOOK - PART ONE - @rklve (your life choices left not only yours, but jungkook's heart broken in peaces. now you're back in town, and just like pluto, even if it's cold and dark, he tends to orbit around his sun forever.)

★ Devoted to Trouble - @jeonsweetpea (In which the whole world finds out Jungkook is Spider-Man, but he doesn’t care about anything but you. OR Can you survive seven days of Jungkook pining over you while his identity is exposed to the world?)

★ whipped - JJK - @aquagustd (another day, another trend that you’re forced to participate in with your boyfriend. It was his idea but he somehow gets sidetracked, with his head between your thighs.)

★ campus affairs | jeon jungkook - @kooktrash (you transferred to a new college during second semester and you didn’t expect much excitement out for. that’s until jungkook came along and what had struggled to be a friendship was becoming so much more.)

★ [10:29pm] | jeon jungkook - @kookssin (established!relationship, smut, mirror sex)

★ Fall Back in Love | jjk - @bukguhope (jungkook somehow grew a reputation of sleeping around on campus, leaving him lonely and inexperienced with relationships. so when you, his old childhood best friend moves onto campus, he discovers what a relationship can feel like as he finds himself falling in love with you)

★ 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬: - @euphoricfilter (it’s not often your boyfriend calls you with a cryptic message to come over; especially when he’s meant to be at his parents’ place for the holidays.)

★ fast forward - JJK - @aquagustd (If every single person you knew was against you, it wouldn’t matter, doesn’t matter because Jungkook would be there for you. That’s why you don’t question his words when he repeats ‘I’ll be back’ one disconcerting morning, and you respond with ‘I know. I trust you.’ He’ll make you eat your words.)

★ paired & puppy-eyed | jjk - @yoon-kooks (When Jeon Jungkook agrees to be your partner for a class project, he doesn’t realize what that might escalate to until you show up at his door in a teeny-tiny crop top and cling to his tattooed arm like his naughty little kitten.)

★ risqué ; timestamp #15 - @mercurygguk

★ LOVE ME | JJK - @wnderkoo (I guess I'm just a sucker for love.)

★ CRIMINAL ! ... halloween special - @voyter (your boyfriend ends up loving your costume idea for the two of you more than he initially lets on.)

★ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢 - @pennyellee (You, a determined fashion designer, find yourself entangled in a collaboration with the irresistibly charming and egotistic heartthrob, Jeon Jungkook. Will this partnership remain strictly professional, or will he make the lines blur?)

★ grumpy!jk - @awrkive (jungkook is usually a nice guy from the way he interacts with other people – but the only exception comes to you. and you can't figure out why.)

★ MOTHERFUCKIN’ TRAIN WRECK! ⋆ 정국 - @lovieku (when renowned fuckboy jeon jeongguk catches feelings, he loses his mind. only when it comes to you, though.)

★ CRAZY | JJK (Part 1) - @girlygguk (you know it sounds twisted. that most people would see hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. that’s when you realized... you weren't like most people. but that's okay. because neither is jungkook.)

★ metro inhabitant!Jungkook x survivor!female reader - @runariya

★ Closer To You - JJK (18+) - @back2bluesidex (You know that you and Jeongguk are completely different individuals from every possible aspect, and there is no future of this relationship but you can’t push him away, not when he only wants to come closer to you.)

★ next door - jjk - @sugaimhome (Jungkook is obsessed with you. All because of some badly designed architecture and house planning, he’d do anything for you, and when he sees you struggling to orgasm, he takes matters into his own hands... or camera.)

★ PRESSED IN THE STEAM - @97kuu (There is only so much he can handle visually of your wet, hot and exposed body in an a private onsen before his member starts craving more than simple touches and thrusts between your thighs.)

[lemonlover1110]

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: You make sure that you're the first person to congratulate Toji.

Warnings: Fluff

*happy birthday to the sexiest dilf

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi - Bluesky

“Happy birthday, Toji.” You wake up the man at midnight, kissing all over his face. The man hates to be woken up, but this surely is a nice way to be awoken. Even though this could’ve waited till the morning, he’s glad that you care enough to stay up late solely to congratulate him.

“Thank you, baby.” He answers as you stop, laying your head on his chest. You listen to his ever so fast beating heart, feeling your eyes get heavy at the soothing sound. 

“How old are you turning again? Old?” You ask him, making a laugh escape his lips. Yeah, old… He feels like he’s lived a thousand lives at this point. He kisses the top of your head before humming in response. You raise your head and narrow your eyes as you stare at him, “Who are you, and what did you do to my husband?”

“What?” He questions, confused why you even ask the question.

“You’re a grumpy old man when I wake you up, but right now you’re...” You begin before he kisses the top of your head again. He’s happy. Instead of being miserable today, he’s here with you– The day hasn’t even started, yet he knows it’s going to be amazing.

You’re going to make a big deal out of today, and he’ll act annoyed when deep down he’s enjoying it. 

“I love you, that’s all.” Toji says, and you feel your face get hot. The man rarely expresses his feelings, so it catches you off guard when he tells you how he feels. Of course you know that he loves you, but it’s odd to hear. 

“I love you too, old man.” You peck his lips before laying your head back down on his chest.

“Stop calling me old man. We’re almost the same–” He begins but you shush him. He chuckles again before his hand goes to your arm, caressing you. He’ll sleep well tonight, and every other night.

“I never asked you what kind of cake you’d like.” You say, feeling your eyes shut on their own once again.

“Your cake.” He responds as he holds back a laugh, a response that makes you lightly slap his chest. “Hey! You asked.”

“You can have that in the morning, I was talking about later in the day.” You answer, and he kisses the top of your head once again. “I’m sleepy.”

“You shouldn’t have stayed up.” He tells you, even though he’s grateful. You care enough to stay up and congratulate him, even if it was something that you could’ve done first thing in the morning.

“I wanted to be the first person to congratulate you.” You mutter as you fall asleep. He can’t help but chuckle, his hand running up and down your back.

You’ve interrupted his sleep, but he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind being woken up, as long as it’s by you.

[ellieslittleslutt]

Random Loser!Ellie Head Cannons ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹

MEN DNI!!!

⋆｡°✩ she would send you random videos when she’s at the store or trying new foods, or just when she’s high and needs to ramble about her comics.

⋆｡°✩ speaking of comics, the first time you came over she was so embarrassed of the giant collection she had on display on her shelves. like this girl had to buy another shelf from ikea just so she can display it all.

⋆｡°✩ she’s the type no matter where she’s always touching you. at the grocery store? holding your hand. folding laundry? head in your lap. literally no matter what always in contact.

⋆｡°✩ at night she wears the most ridiculous shirts to bed. she has a shirt with just micheal ceras face on it claiming “babe he’s apart of the family”

⋆｡°✩ her wardrobe is the gayest shit ever. mass mass MASS amount of flannels and graphic tees. also has a weird amount of tank tops and struggles too much picking which to wear. all her pants are either beat up jeans or beat up cargos. takes lots of her clothes from joel.

⋆｡°✩ on her period she’s the biggest baby. gets so clingy too that she’s always cuddling you and even when you’re showering she sits next to the tub while she groans about her cramps.

⋆｡°✩ she claims to her friends that she only listens to grungy ish music never telling them that you guys scream your lungs out to chappell roan.

⋆｡°✩ at night when you’re getting ready for bed she’s up on her nintendo playing pikmin.

“ellie go to sleep”

“but i’m doing a boss fightttt”

⋆｡°✩ she loves watching you get ready for date nights. she pulls up a chair next to the sink while you do your make up and hair just star struck by her girlfriend.

⋆｡°✩ waking up with her she’s always sprawled out arm around your waist snoring as you try to wiggle out to pee and she groans clinging tighter.

⋆｡°✩ definitely send you pictures like this saying “babe this might be us.”

⋆｡°✩ the worst brain rot you’ve ever seen.

⋆｡°✩ she loves taking your chapstick so much that you got her a princess collection for her birthday and unironically uses them daily and loves kissing you while she wears it.

⋆｡°✩ spoils you so much even if it hurts her wallet. when she comes home from a hang out with jesse and dina she always has either a new plushie or trinket for you.

⋆｡°✩ bought you guys matching plushies getting married and keeps them on your sofa next to eachother.

⋆｡°✩ can’t sleep without her stuffed animals next to her.

⋆｡°✩ on the rare occasions she falls asleep before you she’s sleepily rambling to you while your play with her hair watching her eye lids close slowly and her words slur.

⋆｡°✩ loves it when you paint her nails or doodle on her shoes. she also keeps a photo of you and her with lipstick marks all over her face in her phone case and shows it off all the time.

⋆｡°✩ huge loser but you always tell her “you’re my loser”

a/n: i love her sm omg and i finally got around to doing this!? idk i might write again soon or not depends on if i have the energy

[slttygeto]

you might be the main thing baby – hanma shuji

“baby.”

usually, hanma reacts almost immediately when you call him such an endearing pet name. this time, he doesn’t and you don’t really push it. he always hang out in the living room during the late hours of the night when he kept tossing and turning in bed and decided he didn’t want to bother you but this time feels different.

“come back?”

“can’t sleep doll.” you see the cigarette between his fingers and a frown settles on your face as you approach him, footsteps so light you were scared you would startle or hurt him.

“you don’t have to—we could cuddle?” you walk up to where he’s sitting on the couch, stand between his spread legs. you stare down at him, shivering when his free hand caresses the back of your bare thigh.

“you wanna cuddle?” his hand travels up to your ass, kneading the skin before bringing you closer to him.

“mmm, I do.” you place your hands on his shoulders and straddle him. his free hand then pushes your hair away from your neck, intense golden eyes staring at the exposed skin as though he wanted to litter love bites all over.

“can’t say no to my pretty girl, can I?” your heart flutters at the possessiveness in his tone, but you’re still worried about him and you remind him that you were here to make sure he was fine.

“shu,” his favorite nickname. “you know you can talk to me, right?”

“I do.” he brings the cigarette to his lips and takes a drag. when he exhales, your hand goes to grab his jaw whilst the other takes his cigarette away.

“then talk to me.”

“doll,” his eyes are fixated on the cigarette but he quiets down when you bring it to your lips and let it rest there. like a professional, all because you’ve seen him smoke so many times you’ve memorized his mannerisms.

“yknow I don’t like my birthday.”

“you don’t like being celebrated?“ you ask as you place the cigarette onto the ashtray.

“exactly—“ you sigh in defeat, scooting closer until your crotch is directly against his.

“how insulting,”

“to you?”

“mmmh to my boyfriend,” you say it so softly, so quietly that hanma’s cold heart warms up for a bit. “to my sweet, loving boyfriend.”

“who are you cheating on me with?” he tries to joke around but you continue to grip his jaw, holding him in place.

“the love of my life.” now, you’ve never been too vocal about what hanma is to you. sure, he knows you two are in love and that he means a lot to you but you’ve never expressed it through words. to hear it for the first time, hanma’s heart feels though it’s about to explode.

“I’m all of that to you?” after a beat of silence, he asks and you nod. completely honest and raw.

“and more.” you whisper against his lips, brushing your nose against his own.

“you’re killing me,” he almost whines against your lips and you giggle as you get off of his lap.

“come back to bed, shuji. i got your birthday gift for you.”

[paarksunghoon]

heeseung with a corruption kink and maybe size kink too 🤐 please this man makes me SO horny

you know what, for as much as I love writing y/n to be an absolute bitch who isn’t innocent, this trope is kinddddd of my guilty pleasure

also I was gonna add a short something about a girl who wants to fuck heeseung walking in on them but didn’t because it didn’t flow hahahah maybe next time

read part 2 here

***

You don’t see a clock in Heeseung’s bedroom but it probably wouldn’t matter any way. Why would you need to know the time when he’s lying on top of you and kissing your neck like this?

Heeseung’s breath is hot and jagged as he moves his lips across your skin, occasionally nipping at the open area to hear you moan in his ear. You sound out of practice, like this is something you don’t do very often, and that realization makes Heeseung feel hot all over.

“You smell good,” he mumbles against you. “What perfume are you wearing?”

“Tom Ford,” comes your meek reply. “Got it for my birthday.”

Heeseung pushes himself to the other side of your face and presses his mouth along your jawline. “Wear it more often.” He chuckles when he feels you nodding against him and licks the skin right underneath your ear before kissing it.

Your body delightfully reacts to this sudden pressure and your legs widen even further. Heeseung takes one of your legs and wraps it around his body while the other caresses the side of your other. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about the boy you just met an hour ago, it’s that he knows how to kiss. The sensation of his fingertips in combination with his mouth makes your toes curl.

“Are you shy?” Heeseung asks when your hands remain on his bed. He pulls away to look down at you biting your lip.

“Out of practice.” Though, you’re sure Heeseung can’t tell the difference. You are a little shy, though, but you don’t want to tell him that.

He smiles down at you and bites his lip. It’s unfair how sexy he looks. “That’s okay. It’s what I’m here for, yeah?” Heeseung brings your hands to his arms and encourages you to touch him too. “You can touch me.”

When he sees you nod, he pushes himself up and trails his fingers until they’re pushing your dress up your body. He ghosts just over your pussy and you’re starting to love this kind of attention. “Can I touch you here?”

Heeseung is pleased when you nod. He brings two fingers to rub over you in slow circles and sees the way your brows furrow when he touches you like this. He’s being a bit slow and deliberate. Truthfully, he’d typically choose to sleep with someone who has more experience—he really loves it when a he can force his dick down somebody’s throat—but you were so nice and polite when his roommate introduced you to the small group of friends gathered by the pool table in the foyer of this gigantic house party.

There’s muffled sound from beyond his bedroom door but that does nothing to drown out the sound of your moans when he rubs on your clit.

Heeseung loves girls who get wet really fast. You’re no exception.

“You got wet from a little bit of kissing?” The man above you smiles down like he’s teasing you and when you look up at him all bashful, he can’t help but laugh and kiss your cheek. “That’s okay. I think that’s really hot.”

He taps your covered folds and hears the sound of wetness splashing against his fingers and grunts. You squeeze his biceps and he loves how you’re starting to get bolder with him too, sliding your leg against him as you relax against his touch.

Heeseung resumes kissing your neck and travels down your body. His movements are slow and deliberate when he pulls the top of your dress down until your tits are spilling out of it. He moves to your nipple and sucks on it as your arms find their way to his head. He hums against your chest and toys with the other one, gently pinching and tugging at your hardened nub and moving his mouth over to give it the same treatment.

Eventually, he moves down your body until he’s eye level with your drenched pussy. Heeseung spreads your legs until both feet are planted on his mattress and holds the back of your thighs to prevent you from squirming more than you already are. The way he’s looking at you makes your face feel hot.

“Can I lick you here too?” When you nod, he shakes his head. “Words, baby. Can I? Please?”

How could you ever say no?

“Yes.”

Heeseung smiles at that. His tongue pokes out of his mouth and he uses the tip to trace up your covered slit. He catches your back when you start to arch and coaxes you back down with a gentle touch.

When your hand finds his, Heeseung chuckles against your pussy. His warm breath feels sensational.

“Wanna hold my hand?” You don’t answer but tangle your fingers in his. He’s not used to sex being like this and girls who’ve been in your position usually urge him to go faster and get them off. But Heeseung finds that doesn’t really mind this. “Hold my hand, baby. Give it a squeeze if you need to.”

Heeseung resumes licking you and praises the sheer fabric you decided to wear today. “Your panties are so cute.” He licks you up and loves the sensation of it against his tongue paired with the way you taste. He rolls his eyes back and bucks his hips against the side of the bed, moaning into your pussy at the fraction of pressure. “I bet your pussy’s cuter.”

He pushes your underwear aside and marvels at the way you’re convulsing around nothing. You don’t seem to mind his ministrations either because you don’t protest. In fact, you push your hips towards him and Heeseung takes the hint.

He latches his mouth onto you and kisses your pussy like he’s trying to commit your body to his memory. His tongue glides over your folds and inside of your hole too, methodically bringing you pleasure from his mouth alone.

You think he must really love doing this because you look down and see his eyes are closed. What’s even hotter to you is that one of his hands left your thighs so that he can jerk himself off at the same time. You don’t see it but you see the way his shoulder moves and it makes you moan.

“Yeah,” he mutters against you. “Moan for me.”

You do, so much so that Heeseung keeps licking and sucking until you’re coming on his mouth. He laps it all up until he’s pushing his body upright and taking off his boxers just below his balls to free himself.

He’s so big. It makes your mouth water.

“You have the tiniest pussy I’ve ever seen,” Heeseung says with wide eyes. He strokes his cock a few times with the precum that’s oozing out of him. Heeseung taps your slit with his tip and the warm feeling makes your body arch.

“You ready for some cock, baby?” Truthfully, you aren’t. Not with his size. Him being as big as he is wasn’t something you anticipated. You tell him that much and expect him to kick you out of his room but all he does is pull your soiled panties over your pussy and lets his gigantic dick rest between your slit. He hears you meekly asking to keep grinding and nods, pushing his body down against yours. “We can keep doing like this. I love grinding.”

He doesn’t typically, not that anyone’s given him the chance to really try it out. But his cock is so hard that he thinks this might be the best thing after hard sex. Picturing the two of you having a a wet, rough fuck makes him grind faster.

Heeseung’s got your legs around him and you hold onto his body like a boa constrictor but he loves this type of neediness. He doesn’t get it from other girls and it makes him feel like pushing his cock into your pussy anyway. But he doesn’t. Although he wonders if you’ll ever work your way up to letting him do it.

“This feels so good,” Heeseung moans truthfully. He loves the way your eyes shut and how your mouth parts just wide enough for him to know you love it too. “I wanna fuck you for real one day.”

“I want that too.”

“Is that right?” Heeseung kisses your lips. “We’ll have to work our way to it, won’t we?”

He fucks his cock against your underwear until you cum against him with a choked moan right into his ear. That alone makes his hips stutter. He pulls himself upright and watches as his cum shoots right out of him and onto the fabric, the white ribbons gushing out of him like he’s never seen before.

Heeseung pushes his hips to gather his own release to move it around your mound. It’s so hot the way you’re looking at him. He almost thinks you’d beg him to put it in.

But you don’t. Not yet, anyway. He cleans you up and doesn’t let you get up until he’s sure you’re all good to go.

You think he might kick you out since you know he’s not the kind of guy to let a girl stick around so you start fixing your dress. When you stand up and reach for the door, he pulls you back by the hand and pushes your body against the wall.

“Where you goin’, baby?” That pet name he’s been calling you all night drives you crazy.

“Oh, I, um…didn’t think you wanted me to stay any longer.” He laughs and shakes his head, his lips kissing the side of your neck.

“Wanna get breakfast with you tomorrow. Is that okay?”

***

comments and reblogs are appreciated! xx

[l3viat8an]

Mammon waking you up by going down on you (with prev consent ofc) or you waking Mammon up with a BJ >_<

Nsfw!

Honestly thought this posted already- cuz it was supposed to be in queue for Mams birthday jsksjsk

I feel like that would happen all the time after you start dating Mammon! I mean he just can’t get enough of you and it is a rather nice way to wake up~

And really some mornings he gets so needy and you look so sweet laying there next to him that he just can’t keep his hands or lips off of you.

At first Mammon was just planning to kiss you, a few kisses down your neck and chest wouldn’t hurt right?- then he starts going lower, moving your clothes out of the way so he can keep kissing your skin, down across your chest and tummy and somehow he ends up between your legs… oops~

You wake up slowly, your mind groggy with sleep and pleasure as your eyes open and all you can see of your boyfriend is a lump under the covers. But as soon as you wake up and start grinding your hips to meet his face a little harder Mammon grabs your hips to pin you back down. At the same time he lifts his head to look up at you, which makes the covers fall back a bit so you can see his face, (his hair is an absolute mess too but that’s not super important :D) a crooked little smirk on Mammon’s face as he sits up enough to press a few more soft and wet kiss across your tummy. Mumbling out “Mornin’ darlin’.” against your skin before he goes right back to what he was doing- making you cum on his face-

He thinks its cute how you try to prop yourself up a bit on your elbows to look down at him and enjoy the show, chuckling to himself as he sucks on your clit just right, that it has your head rolling back and you have to plop right back down onto the pillows because it felt that good.  After all he knows all your sweet spots.

Neither of you talk much but Mammon would praise you for being so good and cummin’ for him, ya should let him take care of ya more often~

Sooo of course it’s only right that you ‘repay him’ wake him up head the next morning.  

Again not hard Mammon almost always has ‘morning wood’ when you sleep in the same bed.

While you’re under the covers tease his tip a bit -trust me- before taking his cock all the way into your mouth.

As soon as you start Mammon’s awake and you can hear all his breathlessly, little moans of “Yea~” and “Oh fuck, yes darlin’, just like that” I’m telling you he can’t keep his mouth shut- “S-shit- Don’t stop fuck.” and even more, “Please- Yea, like that, faster.”

There is a special something -not quite tenderness but that’s the closest word you can think of- to Mammon in these moments. Even as you have his cock in your mouth, even as he groans under his breath and his legs tense. Even as he grabs a handful of your hair and gently pushes you down a little bit to see if you can take him even further down your throat, he’s not trying to be mean but he loves it when you gag on him. Making him moan even louder “Shit- So fuckin’ g-good treasure.” as he cums down your throat.

Maybe it’s the way he smooths over your hair as you swallow his cum. Or maybe it’s the way he starts to pull you up to lay your head on his chest and wraps his arms around you as tightly as he can immediately after. It’s all done with care, as if you’re the most precious thing in his room. And of course to him you are.

(Although if you wanna tease Mammon a little more instead- sit up before he can pull you up and let the covers pool around you as you make a show of licking the last few drops of his cum off your lips ;))

[sooniebby]

ఌ 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑

w.c › 11k

warnings › This is an OC. Reader’s last name is Lee. Internalized homophobia from reader. Religious guilt 10x. Thanks @sauvhffp for that Drabble, I borrowed an idea you presented in it. I don’t hate religious people pls don’t think that.

plot › You’re a cog in the machine that is capitalism, wondering if the days are worth it. When you meet a certain man that will make you wish for your mundane life again.

kinks › humping, handjobs, praise, lite pet play, degradation

words to know › Hyung (형) — a term a younger male with call an older male. Seonbae (선배) — term for someone in a higher position, can be work/school. Yeobo (여보) — “darling/honey” only married couples use this term. Gangaji (강아지) — puppy. Eonni (언니) — term a younger girl will call an older girl.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟭

두통

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

다가와. 다가와, 자기야.

“Are you that scared of me? Or… are you scared of what this means for you? What you’re hiding deep inside.”

내가 너를 유혹하니?

“When you kneel for your God, do you think of when you kneeled for me?”

너무 순종적이잖아. 맛보고 싶지 않아?

“Kneeling for me in the same room your mother kneeled for Christ.”

그만해? 왜? 나는 진실만 말해.

“You can’t forget me, Lee (Name). Even with my body rotting right outside your door. You’ll find another me.”

“And he’ll break you; showing you true temptation.”

“Yah! Lee (Name)! Wake up!”

You gasped, sitting up. A paper was stuck to your cheek from your drool as you rubbed at your eyes, trying to fight the sleep that was threatening to seep back in. Another slam at your desk caused you to shriek as you glanced over at who was causing the commotion.

It wasn’t your boss, thankfully. But it was still a higher up, Park Minhee.

“Lee (Name), have you completed the paper I sent you this morning? You seem to be comfortably napping during work hours.” She said, raising an eyebrow. Her back straightened as she looked down at you like you were a little kid, not another adult that was only four years younger than her.

“Yes, Miss Park. I did finish it, I sent it straight to the boss.” You quickly answered, pulling off the paper stuck to your cheek. Minhee stared at you for a moment before letting out a humph.

She turned her attention to your colleagues who were watching the exchange. “Don’t follow in Lee (Name)’s footsteps, you hear? When you finish your work early, you will gladly get up and come ask me for more work. Do you understand?”

It took a moment before everyone reluctantly agreed. Minhee smiled, pushing up her circular glasses as she walked off, her heels clicking against the recently polished ground.

Your body felt limp once she was finally out of earshot. You could hear murmuring from your coworkers, a few a bit snarky about Minhee’s attitude being your fault.

“You okay, Seonbae?”

You glanced over to see Kim Eunha. Eunha was recently hired after being an intern for almost two years. It was pure luck she got the job here. Even for you, you were about to quit as an intern before you finally got the job.

Eunha was sweet. One of the only people you actually liked at your job.

“I’m okay. I just haven’t been sleeping well.” You muttered, rubbing the bridge of your nose.

“Oh! Here.” Eunha moved to grab something off her desk before handing it over to you. It was a glasses cleaner. You thanked her, taking off your glasses as you cleaned the marks off them.

Eunha hummed for a moment before grinning nervously. “Uhm, Seonbae. I was wondering if you were coming to the party Friday night.”

“Party?”

“Mhm. It’s being held for Kang Taeyeon’s birthday. She invited the whole department.”

“I don’t think I want to go. No one here besides you likes me.”

“Please?” Eunha frowned, sighing slightly. “You never come to the dinners or parties we hold. It might help bridge the gap if you attend them.”

You knew she was technically right. With you continuously pushing yourself away from your coworkers, the gap was wide.

But you didn’t necessarily feel like bridging it. There was no way you wanted to get close to people.

“I’ll think about it.” It was only Monday. You had four days to think about it. Eunha beamed at your words and eagerly went back to her assignment.

Like you’d actually want to go.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

Your family was relatively agonistic when you were growing up. Mom and Dad didn’t care too much about religion to raise you under it with your elder sisters. While your mother’s family were strict Christian conservatives, your father’s family was practically the opposite.

Though you couldn’t necessarily call him your father these days, could you?

It wasn’t until your tenth birthday that something cracked in your family. The once happy family of five soured.

And it was all your fault. That’s what your father screamed every day and night as he cried into a beer bottle.

Your mother was unfaithful.

Unfaithful for so long that your sisters were technically your half sisters.

After that, your mother and father didn’t divorce for some odd reason. Mom began to wallow in self pity about her actions and turned to God. Her once flip-floppy faith turned solid. Anything to make her feel good about herself.

Your father took his anger out on you.

The eldest sister, having reached the age of twenty, was embarrassed by her family’s history. More so that she dared to happily love an affair baby. She hardly talks to you as if you asked to be born from a man your mother fucked on the side.

Everyday from then on, you were dragged to church each Sunday with your mother’s family. They practically beamed at having you at arms reach. Your weak mind took in all of the prayers and sermons to heart, hoping that maybe, just maybe, your family will come back.

Your family would come back once you repented your sins.

Sins…?

Ten year old Lee (Name) was sinful.

Your therapist had laughed when you said that.

You haven’t gone back to see him in over a year. So sensitive you were. The mere thought of everything that you learned being wrong made you feel sick.

“(Name), you made it. Your sisters are already here.”

Your feet always hesitated before you walked into your parents’ house. It was like your body was trying to protect you but you would always ignore it. Your mother rushed you inside as you slipped off your shoes, following after her.

“Afternoon.” Your eldest sister, Yerin, didn’t attempt to look up from her phone.

“Hi, how was your day?” Your second eldest sister, Yena, asked. Yena was staring at you as she picked up her bag from the chair next to her so you could join her at the dining table.

You gave Yena a smile. “It was okay. How was yours?”

“Great! The kids are calming down now that it’s been a month of school.” Yena smiled. She was a kindergarten teacher. Yerin was a lawyer. More meaningful compared to the plain office job you worked. You wished you liked your job as much as Yena did.

Your mother was fretting around as she placed down the dishes for dinner. You almost attempted to help her but stopped yourself, glancing down at your hands. Yena began talking about a “poop incident” at her school a week ago when Yerin finally looked up from her phone.

Yerin looked you right in the eye as she tilted her head. “You don’t visit often; what, found your real family?”

“Eonni!” Yena frowned, stopping her rambling to glare at Yerin.

You didn’t even attempt to say anything. This was to be expected with her. “Is he coming out for dinner tonight?”

“Why? You could talk to him yourself.” Yerin rolled her eyes. “I’m not sure why you don’t talk to him. He raised you, giving you shelter, food, water. The least you could do is act like a son to him. He’s getting stressed out at his job these days…”

You tuned her out. She wouldn’t understand. She had already left the home when your father turned on you. When your father didn’t hesitate to lock you in the closet until your voice was hoarse from screaming and Yena finally came home from her club.

Yerin was just like your mother. Pretending the way your father reacted was normal. Your mother was still oddly religious—fully believing that she had her sins forgiven by her lord and savior. She still dragged you to church every Sunday.

You were sure she was attempting to scout out a good Christian girl for you to marry now. So many of the older church ladies were stopping you after the sermon to introduce you to their daughters.

Your father didn’t come out for dinner.

Your mother kept saying he was just tired.

You weren’t a fucking idiot. That man still hated you for daring to be born and not dying in childbirth.

The food tasted bitter and cold. The cross on the wall of the dining room felt like a curse. Bible verses hanging right in your face. He was mocking you at this point. Why haven’t you been forgiven for your sins?

“How has work been? Have you gotten a promotion yet?” Your mother suddenly asked.

The kimchi in your mouth was so bitter that you almost throw up but you swallowed it down. “No. They wouldn’t give me a promotion so soon.”

Your mother’s eyes narrowed in on your face as her lips twitched. “You seem irritated. Have you been praying? Perhaps you should come to the nightly sermons I mentioned to you. Work must be stressing you out.”

You glanced over at Yena. “Do you go the sermons?”

Yena frowned, biting her lip. “Ah, no. I haven’t been going as often as I should.” She laughed nervously, rubbing at her arm. “But uhm, my husband isn’t exactly all that interested in religion.”

Yerin clinked her chopsticks against the bowl. “Why do you ask, (Name)? Trying to get out of your duty?”

Duty.

It was a fucking duty.

Yerin and Yena weren’t forced by your mom to go to church. But you were. You were dragged there by your arms even if you kicked and scream.

Your father had always told you that he’d never force a religion onto you. Though it was an empty lie, huh?

Deep down, you had a feeling it wasn’t just being an affair baby anymore. Your parents, even sisters, assumed something about you that made you anxious.

Why haven’t you been interested in girls like any other boy?

You were normal. You were fucking normal and you weren’t whatever your family was thinking. The sin of being born to an adulator was already on your record being a ‘homosexual’ of all things was practically a death sentence.

It was normal to not go crazy over any girl just because she was ‘pretty’ in the eyes of the church. You had standards.

“No,” you muttered, staring at the bowl of kimchi. Kimchi and rice. You’ve always eaten this. Always eaten it without a care in the world.

Your throat burned as you vomited on the dining table.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Seonbae, is this right?”

You glanced over at Eunha, checking the paper she was going over. “The number here is wrong. You subtracted instead of adding.”

“Ah! Thanks, Seonbae.”

It was Friday evening, your shift almost over in an hour. Eunha was still in the belief that you were coming to the birthday party. You didn’t know if you could turn her down. You’ve recently started going to the night sermons your mother was talking about.

They were bothering you—affecting your sleep. You would always come home with this weird ache in your chest that you couldn’t get rid of.

The hour felt long before it was finally over. It was bustling as people immediately got ready to go home for the weekend. You glanced over at the clock, trying to think of a way to excuse yourself when a hand patted you on the back.

“You coming, Lee (Name)? We’re heading to the restaurant!” It was one of your older coworkers, Park Woohyun. The ‘heartthrob’ of the financial department of the company. You understood why. He was handsome.

A few people often asked if he was related to Lee Dong-Wook.

You frowned, “ah, uhm, I’m not sure…”

Woohyun hummed. “What do you mean? I doubt you have anything better to do.”

Your jaw tightened as you heard a few chuckles. Anything better to do. Yeah, he was right. At most you were going to attend the sermon again. But to be told that out loud with the sounds of laughter following was humiliating.

Why did it seem like everyone hated you?

Were they right?

Does your sinful past follow you everywhere that people subconsciously feel it?

“Okay.” You suddenly said, a tight smile on your lips. “I’ll come.”

Besides, you needed to drink.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Is… this okay?”

His lips pressed against yours before pulling away. The cool air from the opened window eases into the bedroom. It caused your body to shiver as he let out a laugh.

“No. It’ll never be okay. Not if you want to stay a perfect church boy.”

“Then don’t kiss me again..! I can’t do anything else to make Him angry.”

“Don’t kiss you again?”

Hands gripped your shirt, pulling you close against his chest. Nose touching as his gaze bore into yours. His eyes looked blank as he leaned down, his lips teasing yours.

“Is that what you really want, Lee (Name)?”

You can’t remember if you ever responded to his question. The aftermath is all you can remember. He grabbed his backpack and went outside. You watched him get on his bike, the moonlight shining down on him.

There was something he said before biking away. It was hazy in your mind now but the essence was still there.

No matter how much you tried—you’ll never make your family happy.

Then he biked away. You turned to get back inside your house when a crash was heard. Running. You ran not even a few feet to see him on the ground, blood pooling beneath him. A drunk, clumsy driver stepped out of her car as she began babbling something.

All you remember is that the last thing you told Kim Junhan before his death at the ripe age of sixteen was that you would never be a ‘homosexual’ like he was.

“𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙋𝙔 𝘽𝙄𝙍𝙏𝙃𝘿𝘼𝙔!”

The sounds of clapping caused you to jump up, glancing over to see your coworkers had brought out the cake for Kang Taeyeon. You paid them no mind, staring down at your drink. Whenever you drank too much, he would always seep back into your mind.

You downed the drink in ease before asking for another one from the bartender. She raised an eyebrow at you but complied anyway.

The memories of Kim Junhan always felt so bitter.

The bartender placed the drink down. You were about to thank her when she held out a tissue for you. She must’ve noticed your confusion when she just pointed at your face and waited for you to take the tissue.

You took it and began to tap your face. When you glanced at the tissue it was wet. Fuck. You quickly wiped at your face, hoping that you didn’t look overly pathetic. Crying in a restaurant while your coworkers were singing happy birthday.

What a joke.

After the embarrassment began sinking in even more, you drank four more shots until the bartender refused to give you anymore. You were disgruntled with her but knew she was just doing her job. So you gave her the bill and left the restaurant.

None of your coworkers noticed.

You shivered as the cool air immediately attacked you once outside. You were only dressed in a thin white button up and black slacks. Your hands shook as you quickly made sure to put on your suit jacket. Though it did nothing to make you feel warm.

Perhaps you were too drunk but you suddenly felt like crying.

It had been over ten years now since Junhan died. You briefly wondered what day it was. It must’ve been his anniversary of his death. Maybe that’s why. That’s all it is.

You kneeled down and couldn’t stop the sobbing as you curled into yourself. A drunk man crying on the wall of a restaurant.

How pathetic.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

Moon Eunjae hated restaurants like this. Cheap and tacky. But more importantly, the rowdy group of corporate slaves that drank until they dropped. Looked like it was on their birthday.

He turned his attention back over to his plate of food, pushing it towards his friend. “Ugh. Eat it for me.”

His friend, Yoonchae, rolled her eyes. “What? Is the food too ‘cheap’ for your liking?” She asked, grabbing his plate and immediately digging in.

“Hey, if you paid for us, we wouldn’t drag you to cheap places,” his friend beside him, Rowoon, laughed. “Not everyone can afford a meal over 100,000 won.”

Eunjae hummed. “It’s just shit. Just because you’re poor doesn’t mean your food has to be shit.”

Rowoon laughed louder while Yoonchae snapped her chopsticks in half. A loud yell from the crowd caused Rowoon to sigh.

“Is this the only time they have fun? They’re so fucking loud.” He whined, shaking his head.

“It’s her birthday, cut them some slack.” Yoonchae muttered as she grabbed a new pair of chopsticks.

Eunjae didn’t say anything. He knew he wouldn’t understand how those corporate slaves would feel being free on weekends. Though he never attempted to understand. He was only twenty-one compared to the group of adults who looked closer to their mid thirties.

He rubbed at his face before standing up. “I’m taking a smoke break.”

“Hope you catch cancer.” Yoonchae said as he walked out of the building.

Eunjae yawned as he made it outside, the cool air hardly bothering him as he dressed in a thick jacket made with fluffy fur. He pulled out his lighter and pack of cigarettes, placing one between his lips as he easily lit it.

He stood there for a moment before hearing soft hiccuping. His eyes glanced to the right and he immediately looked away. Someone crying against the wall of a cheap restaurant that sells noodles that are obviously thirty years old.

Pathetic.

Oh well, he wouldn’t bother them.

His smoke break was needed as he hummed to himself. The calming wind breezed past him when he heard the stranger let out a particularly loud whimper. He was set on ignoring them again when they pulled their head out of their hands.

You were… pathetic.

So fucking pathetic.

But cute.

Like a puppy.

Round doe eyes wet with tears that’s stained your cheeks. Your body heaving as you took deep breathes from your heavy crying. Lips almost in a pout.

Who knew a man could be so cute?

Eunjae was ready to just leave you alone still despite his weird interest in you when your gaze turned over to him. Your body shivered as the wind picked up again. Doe puppy eyes bore into his as you sniffled, curling into yourself tighter to keep your body warm.

He didn’t know what to say. His cigarette was slipping out of his mouth as it parted in his shock.

Your eyes flickered to his face. He quickly wondered if you found him attractive. If you were feeling this odd need to be near him like he felt for you.

“I’m…” You whispered, he noticed your odd movements. Almost sluggish. Were you drunk? He waited for you to finish your sentence.

“Cold.” You lamely finished.

Eunjae didn’t know what exactly you thought he could do about that. But he didn’t say anything. You didn’t look like you’d listen to anything he would say right now. Right now he should be a ‘good’ citizen and get you home.

“What’s your address? You’ll freeze to death out here in such thin clothes.” He said, pulling out his phone to call a taxi.

You frowned, slowly standing up. Your body pressed against the wall as your eyes felt heavy. It was almost as cute as it was pathetic to watch you stumble over to him. Eunjae made no attempt to help you.

He enjoyed seeing you stumble.

Your hand gripped at his arm as you glanced at his phone. Your body felt so heavy that it felt as if you’d collapse if you let go of Eunjae.

“Address?” Eunjae asked again.

“Too far.” You whispered, subconsciously snuggling close to him. His jacket was so warm, so nice. Why couldn’t he share it with you?

“Too far? Come on, tell me where you live.”

“Incheon.”

“Incheon? You don’t live in Seoul?”

“Too expensive,” you whined, glaring at him. “It’s only an hour away… but trains closed.”

Eunjae checked the time. You were right, it was past midnight. No taxi was going to drive a full hour so late as well without some hefty cash. And you didn’t look like the type of be carrying such cash.

The door to the restaurant opened as a man and woman walked out. Eunjae watched them, noticing they must’ve been your coworkers. They looked worried almost scared as they frantically glanced around the street.

He wondered if they needed something until they glanced over at him. The pure anger on their face would’ve terrified him if he cared.

“What are you doing to my Seonbae?” The woman asked, glaring at Eunjae. She reached over and grabbed your hand, pulling you over. You didn’t attempt to stop her, releasing your grip on Eunjae’s jacket.

The man, a similar height to Eunjae almost looked like he was only one step away from punching him. “Were you trying to take him somewhere?”

Eunjae rolled his eyes. So much for helping. “I was trying to take him home. What is he your boyfriend?” He laughed, tilting his head.

“Woohyun Seonbae, let’s just get back inside, (Name) Seonbae is shivering.” The woman said, holding you close.

Woohyun glanced over at you. He only shook his head at Eunjae. “We’ll take him home.”

Eunjae shrugged. He didn’t care about you that much. But oddly enough, he couldn’t help but feel a bit… angry? Maybe it was the fact someone older than him was treating him like a predator.

Respect your elders or something like that.

He tugged at his jacket, holding it in his hands. The cool air immediately attacked him. No wonder you were shivering like a dog. He walked over to you, ignoring the woman’s glare at him.

“Here. Since you liked it so much.” Eunjae draped the jacket over your shoulders, helping you slip your arms in to properly wear it. Your doe eyes stared up at him as he zipped it up, a smirk on his lips. “Just return it to me, Gangaji.”

“Wait,” you called out. Eunjae glanced over at you just before he entered the restaurant. “How can I..? I don’t know your name..”

Eunjae grinned. “It’s in the jacket.”

He walked right back inside, joining Rowoon and Yoonchae. Rowoon hummed as he smirked.

“Where’s your jacket?” Rowoon asked.

“Gave it to someone.”

“You? Giving away your belongings?” Yoonchae laughed. “Why? Was she cute?”

“Very. He was as cute as a puppy.”

Yoonchae and Rowoon shared knowing looks at each other. Despite Eunjae’s ‘nonchalant’ behavior, they knew he must’ve been infatuated with this stranger to give up his favorite jacket.

They made a silent prayer for the poor soul.

Anyone Eunjae liked would often wish they never met him.

❝ 차츰 어둠이 드리울 테니 ❞

You awoke with a groan, feeling a comfortable bed beneath you. Your arms stretched out as felt considerably warm. A grunt left you as you sat up and took a look at your surroundings.

It was a nicer apartment. Your gaze flickered to the window. This was certainly Seoul. Incheon did have the busy streets as well but Seoul was considerably filled with people and cars rushing by.

As you got out of the bed, you noticed you had a large fluffy jacket on. You almost didn’t want to take it off. It was so warm and comfortable. But you pulled it off to see where you even got this.

Oh shit.

Dolce & Gabbana.

Your eyes read the name tag multiple times to see if you were imagining it.

Dolce & Gabbana!!!

Where did you get this?

You gently placed the coat that must’ve cost your rent on the bed and sprinted out of the bedroom. Just even where were you? The apartment was certainly nice but it didn’t look to be anything expensive. Quite small.

“Oh, Lee (Name) you’re awake!” A voice called out to you.

You glanced over to the kitchen to see Park Woohyun wearing an apron. Kim Eunha was right beside him holding a plate of pancakes. The two were smiling at you weirdly. Well, it was normal for Eunha to smile at you like that but you can’t ever remember Woohyun looking happy to see you.

“Do you have a hangover? I have some tablets in my bathroom cabinet.” Woohyun said, nodding towards the direction you came from. You did have a headache but didn’t want to leech on him anymore than you have.

“Uhm,” you whispered, walking over to them. “Did I sleep on your bed?”

Woohyun hummed. “You got my bedroom. Kim Eunha went back to her place but she came back to check on you. You slept in for a minute.”

Eunha hummed, smiling widely at you. “It’s 3 pm!”

Your eyes widen. “3 pm?! Why didn’t you wake me up?” You frowned.

“Why would I? You seemed like you needed the rest.”

“It’s okay, (Name) Seonbae. You had a crazy night, you needed all the rest you could get.” Eunha walked over to you, pushing you to sit down at the dinner table as she placed the plate of pancakes in front of you.

You muttered a quick thank you. “What do you mean? Did I do anything weird?”

Woohyun shrugged. “Define weird. You mean during the taxi ride here you cried that none of your coworkers liked you.” He took off his apron and walked over to you, sitting down beside you.

“I didn’t know you had that impression of me, Lee (Name).” Woohyun said, his face suddenly serious. “Have I been treating you terribly? Why haven’t you told me?”

Eunha sat down across from you, a frown on her lips. “Seonbae, I don’t know what gave you the impression we hated you but we don’t! We’re sorry we didn’t notice when you left the bar… If we were quicker that kid wouldn’t have been bothering you!”

You began to nibble on the pancakes when Woohyun gave you calculated look that was practically telling to eat or else. “What kid?” You muttered.

“The kid that gave you the jacket.” She said.

Your brain was a bit hazy. You couldn’t remember any kid that you spoke to. What kid was he to wear such a large jacket that it practically swallowed you whole? All you could really remember was what the kid called you.

강아지

You don’t know why he would call you a puppy, especially if he was younger than you. You do vaguely remember he didn’t speak respectfully with you.

Kids these days. You shook your head.

“I need to return the jacket then. Did he give his name?”

Woohyun shrugged. “He said it was written on the jacket. Check the name tag.” He leaned in close to you, causing you to flinch. His eyes narrowed in on you before he pulled away. “I think you suffer from low self-esteem, Lee (Name).”

Eunha coughed, her eyes wide. “Woohyun Seonbae! That’s not appropriate to say to someone randomly.”

“But it’s true.” Woohyun said, shaking his head. He was around fifty—probably uncaring about how to properly be a human at this point in life. “Only someone with low self-esteem would blindly believe everyone hates him. I joke with you but you seem to always take it as me punching you down.

“A normal person would tell the other that they don’t like the joke. However, you seem to think everyone else hates you as well. Kang Taeyeon invited you to the party for a reason. She was quite sad you stayed in the corner. It was party, you were supposed to mingle with everyone else.”

Eunha frowned. “Seonbae… This is a lot to spring up on someone with a hangover. Besides, it’s normal to not speak up in a work place setting. You’re our supervisor.”

“It’s not like I’ll fire you because you called me out.”

“Yeah well not every boss is as normal as you.”

You could only stare at Woohyun in shock. The audacity. The fucking audacity to bluntly tell you that you were suffering with low self worth.

It hurt. It really hurt.

Not just because he was your boss saying it.

But because he was right. Your therapist had said the exact same thing.

Were you that miserable that everyone could notice?

It was so fucking embarrassing. Why were you so embarrassing?

You didn’t even notice you were crying until your vision got blurry. Eunha began fussing obviously worried that Woohyun had hurt your feelings. And he did, he definitely did. You didn’t need this so early in the day, even if it was the afternoon.

A slight hiccup left you before you felt a hand pat you on the head. Your eyes glanced over to Woohyun. He looked a bit apologetic as he rubbed your head like you were ten years old.

“Sorry, Lee (Name). I hurt you again didn’t I?”

An apology? He really apologized.

Your lips quivered before you began to bawl. Woohyun and Eunha were shocked and quickly grabbed tissues as you wailed as if you were a baby.

Your dad was only ten years older than Woohyun.

Your dad never apologized like Park Woohyun.

To see someone close to your dad age, someone who could even be your father… To hear those words.

You needed to get back into therapy. You were a fucking mess.

Woohyun let you get cleaned up in his bathroom, telling you to just pull some clothes from his dresser. Eunha had given you a hug before you left. It was embarrassing to cry in front of a man who could be your father and a woman who was only two years younger than you. But it also felt liberating to see them care so much about you.

Did your coworkers… really not hate you like you assumed?

How many situations have you been in that you wrongly assumed the other hated you?

Maybe you… maybe you should make the effort to talk to people.

You shook your head. One step at a time. Your eyes flickered over to the jacket on the bed. You walked over and checked the tag again. Was there any other tag in it? It took a moment of you checking any space on the jacket before you came across a second tag that had the laundry instructions.

문은재

Moon Eunjae? A pretty name. You checked to see if there was any number. There was not. You checked the pockets until you pulled out a receipt. It looked to be from a delivery. The address and phone number was on it.

This must be his phone number. Hopefully.

You grabbed your phone, noticing a few texts from your mother. The familiar feeling of agony began to grow in your chest. You almost wanted to throw up the pancakes you ate.

Was it normal to hate being near your mother?

To even see a message from her and your world felt like it was crashing down.

She had sent multiple messages asking you where you were. Ah, there was another sermon yesterday. Looks like she was practically begging you to join the one for tonight. Why do churches even hold so many sermons everyday? Do people really enjoy that?

You checked the time. It was close to 5 pm now. No way would you make it in time for the 6 pm sermon. You didn’t respond and just decided to attend the usually Sunday Service at noon.

Your body instantly calmed when you decided that but you didn’t want to think any further on why church was so intense for you. You typed out the number on your phone and called it, hoping you could return the jacket tonight while still in the area.

It rang for a moment before it was answered.

“Who’s this?”

“Uhm, hello. Is this Mister Moon Eunjae..? You gave me your jacket last night.”

“Oh, Gangaji. You were able to remember me? Aren’t you a good boy?”

Your face flushed. What the fuck? You weren’t about to let someone younger than you talk down to you. “It’s Lee (Name). Anyway, I want to return your jacket while I’m still in Seoul. Where do you live?”

“Hm, you’re no fun.” He chuckled. “You got my number from the receipt, right? Go to the address.”

“What, but what time—?”

He hung up. That little…

You sighed. The address was in the direction of Incheon actually. So it wouldn’t be out of your way. You dressed in Woohyun’s clothes and put your dirty clothes in a plastic bag Eunha gave you.

It was awkward going back to the living room. Eunha had went back home before it got too dark. You were glad to not have to talk to her until Monday. But it was awkward seeing Woohyun.

Woohyun got up from the couch to let you out. You were set to rush out when he grasped your shoulder, turning you to face him. His face was blank before a slight smile pulled on his lips as he gave you comforting pat on the head.

“Get home safe. See you Monday.”

You definitely did not leave the apartment feeling happy, no you did not.

The address led you to a hotel. You at first thought maybe it was just a fancy apartment complex but the receptionist called it a hotel when you asked. It felt awkward just standing there in clothes a bit too big on your body.

Everyone that walked past was dressed to the nines. Expensive coats. Shining jewelry. It almost felt like a joke that you were even able to stand in the same area as them.

“Gangaji?”

You turned over to see someone walking over to you. You mentally cursed at yourself for responding to the nickname. The person who you assumed was Moon Eunjae grinned, wearing clothing vastly different from everyone else.

A baggy sweatshirt with faded jeans. He didn’t look like someone who could own such an expensive jacket but maybe he was just dressing down. You held the jacket out when he got close, a slight smile on your lips.

“Here… Thank you for offering it to me. I didn’t mean to act so childish last night.” You said, bowing your head slightly. Being his elder, you felt a bit embarrassed he took care of you.

Eunjae looked to be a few inches taller than you. Shaggy black hair. He had sharp dark brown eyes that stared straight at you. His lips pulled into a smug smile as he tilted his head. It took a moment before he grabbed his jacket from your hand.

“Thanks.” He said, his voice smooth and silky. You almost wanted to run out there but couldn’t help but stare right back at him.

He was handsome but you don’t remember ever being phased by a man being handsome. Mainly… only Kim Junhan had ever made you feel this strange way.

Eunjae suddenly hummed. “Do you want to have dinner before you go?”

Your lips parted, ready to refuse. “Yes.”

What?

You followed Eunjae out of the hotel. He didn’t say anything the entire walk. It was only for a few minutes before you reached a small little restaurant outdoors. There was a large tent covering it. A few people were sitting around eating what looked be Korean BBQ.

Eunjae motioned for you to sit while he talked to the owner. The owner almost looked excited to see Eunjae as she immediately pointed for him to sit down as she grabbed a plate of raw meat.

The two came over to where you sat. Eunjae sat down just as the owner turned on the heat of the grill. She handed Eunjae the meat and gave you a smile before rushing off to help some customers.

You reached out to grab the tongs when he did it for you. Your eyes just simply watched as he began to cook the meat. It was usually the eldest that cooked the meat—so to have him do it felt weird.

After a couple were finished he placed it on your plate, motioning for you to eat.

You silently thanked him and began to eat, having not had Korean BBQ in a hot minute. It was better than you remembered. You couldn’t help but flex your hand, shaking it in excitement as you continued to eat. Eunjae knew how to cook the meat just right!

A snort caught your attention as you looked up.

“You act like a kid.” Eunjae said, placing a few more pieces of meat on your plate. “It’s cute. You really are a Gangaji.”

You blushed. “It’s not right to call me that. I’m older than you.”

“Ah,” Eunjae rolled his eyes. “Should I call you hyung then?”

“Well, no, we’re not close.”

“But what if I want us to be?”

You almost choked as your eyes widen. Eunjae smirked. What the hell was wrong with this kid?

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-one. I can legally drink.” He said, motioning to the beer he had ordered.

“Well I’m twenty-five; twenty-six in a few weeks. You shouldn’t speak so informally with me.”

“Why should I speak formally with my Gangaji?”

“You little!”

Eunjae ignored your outburst and placed the rest of the meat on your plate. He turned off the grill and began finally eat his meat that he cooked. You knew the meat had to have been cold by now. You were about to give him some of your meat as it was recently cooked but he suddenly looked up at you.

“I usually stay to people my own age.” Eunjae confessed. “But you’re too cute to pass up.”

“I’m a person.”

“And my Gangaji.”

“Stop calling me that!” You whined, trying your best to glare at him.

Eunjae’s eyes bore into yours. You suddenly felt watched as he just stared at you for a moment.

“Are you happy, Lee (Name)?”

Your eyes widen. It was odd to hear him properly speak to you. To use your name. But to even ask such a question. What the hell.

“Why… Why do you…?”

“It’s just a question.” Eunjae said nonchalantly. “I’m not happy, at least not fully. I think I’m not living life the way I want to.”

“I…”

“Are you living the life you want? Are there any people you should cut out of your life?”

A shuddered gasp left your lips, your eyes wide as you tried to speak. Why did it feel like everyone was suddenly your therapist?!

“I’m.. I’m happy.. I…”

“Are you religious?”

“How..?”

Eunjae grinned. “I don’t think you’d wear a cross necklace if you weren’t.”

You glanced down to notice your necklace wasn’t tucked in your shirt like it usually was. Your hand quickly tucked it away. Looking back up at Eunjae, his face was unreadable as he watched your action.

“It’s… I uhm. I do attend sermons. Are you religious?” You asked.

“No.” Eunjae took a sip of his beer. “Someone like me would burn if I step foot in a church.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

It was silent for a moment as he went back to eating his meat. Once he was finished, Eunjae glanced over at you.

“We should be friends. My mom wants me to be friends with more sensible people.” Eunjae chuckled, grinning at you. “Will you be my friend, Lee (Name)?”

You bit your lip. “Ah, but we might not have anything in common…”

“We’ll find something.” Was all he said before getting up, motioning that he was going to pay the bill. You almost shot up at the idea but he didn’t take no for an answer.

After paying, Eunjae walked with you to the train station. Usually silence made you feel awkward or anxious. But with Eunjae, the silence felt peaceful. Your mind didn’t overthink with him.

It wasn’t like he was doing anything. You just felt weirdly comfortable with him. There was an odd disappointment when you finally reached the station. You wondered if you should thank him or something when a hand slithered itself to the curve of your waist.

Your eyes widen as lips pressed against yours. Eunjae was kissing you. Kissing you out in the open. Your hand pressed against his chest but you hesitated for a moment to push him away.

No.

A man’s lips aren’t supposed to feel so good.

You were normal. You couldn’t be…

When Eunjae pulled away, you subconsciously moved forward. Your eyes watched his face as a slight smirk pulled on his lips. He released his grip on you before reaching up and tugging off his jacket.

You watched, sober this time, as he placed the jacket on your shoulders. He carefully helped you put it on, zipping it up. His hands rest on your shoulders before gripping your face, squishing it softly before pulling away.

“Text me when you get home, Lee (Name).” Eunjae said. You tried to ignore the weird way you wished he called you Gangaji again. That was weird, no man calls another man a puppy!

You mutely nodded, feeling cozy in the jacket. “How will you get your jacket back..?” You whispered.

Eunjae grinned. “You’ll call me.” He said. “And when I answer your call, you’ll come running to me.”

“Won’t you run to me..?”

“No,” he laughed. “You better go, the trains about to leave.”

“What about your number?”

“It’s the same one you called. Just save it.”

You nodded but your feet was glued to the ground. There wasn’t anything else you wanted to ask but you couldn’t find it in yourself to leave him. This odd feeling you have. Infatuation probably.

You’ve never felt this way about a woman.

For a man younger than you was insane. You almost wanted to cry. Couldn’t you do anything right?

A hand caressed your cheek, causing you to glance up. His thumb pressed against the bottom of your lip. It gently pried your lips apart before he leaned down, his lips teasing the tip of your ear.

“Don’t look at me like that—I’ll end up leashing you so you’re never away from me.”

You gulped as he pulled away. He didn’t say anything else besides gently nudge you to leave. You listened and quickly walked to train just as the doors open. Just as you stepped inside, you glanced back at him.

Eunjae waved. His lips parting to mouth something.

A blush spread on your cheeks at his words.

Good boy.

Something was awakening within you and it wasn’t going to be good.

❝ 달빛 아래 숨죽인 나 ❞

Sunday Service.

Sunday Service was something you had come to hate. But you never skipped them despite your body always feeling physically sick on Sundays. You had begun waking up early and vomiting the bile in your throat.

When you told your mother she said it was God pushing the sin out.

Whatever that meant.

You sat in the usual back row, right next to your mom. You always sat at the end so you could bolt right out as soon as it’s finished. The pastor was preaching something. The quotes weren’t registering to you.

A tap on your shoulder caused you to sit up straight. You didn’t look at your mother knowing she would be looking at you with anger. The pastors words finally began to settle in.

Genesis 19:26.

Your body froze when the pastor began reciting the verses. Something felt wrong. Very wrong.

You glanced over at your mother and saw she was smiling at you. It was a genuine smile—as if she was happy about what was happening. She couldn’t have…

Memories of after Kim Junhan’s death filled your mind. You had mostly blocked it out at this point but it was all coming back. After the funeral, your mother had pulled you aside to talk to you.

She quoted Genesis 19:26 to you. Reciting it word for word. Then told you that your ‘worldly’ beliefs would lead you to follow in Junhan’s fate. You remember asking her if she thought Junhan possibly loving the same sex meant he had to die.

You remember her face.

Her blank face before saying yes right. Junhan’s parents were only a few feet away from you. You wondered what would’ve happened if you had told them what she said. That their poor son was killed because God believed homosexuality was a crime.

That God created the accident. That the drunk driver probably wouldn’t have killed them if Junhan only kissed girls.

In a way, you began to believe it was your fault he died. Maybe if you pushed harder, let him know he couldn’t live his life his way.

Your breathing was hard. Your hands gripped at your pants as you watched everyone else just say “amen” over and over again. You glanced up at where the pastor was. Your mother was friends with the pastor.

Did she really request him to recite that specific scripture? Would she do that to you?

Did she suspect you were falling back into homosexual thoughts?

You wanted to vomit.

A strangled gasp left your lips as you shot up. Everything stopped, everyone staring at you. You knew you probably looked like a freak. People probably thought you were scared about a homosexual.

You had to leave. You couldn’t be here anymore.

Your hand gripped at the bench as you made the attempt to leave.

“Where are you going? You’re being disrespectful!” Your mother yelled, grabbing your hand.

“Let go of me!” You involuntarily screamed, ripping your hand from her grasp. A needle could be dropped at your outburst. You, Lee (Name) screamed?

Just as you were about to apologize, a hand gently rest it on your back. You glanced back to see someone you least expected.

Standing behind you was Kim Junhan’s parents, Geon and Dohee. Geon gave you a comforting smile as he gently patted your back. You looked down in embarrassment.

“We’ll help him get some fresh air. Please continue on.” Dohee said, smiling. She turned to your mother and gave her a nod before motioning for her husband to help you walk out. Geon practically dragged you out, your legs feeling like jelly.

You don’t remember ever seeing Geon and Dohee at the church ever since Junhan’s funeral.

The fresh air brought a much needed relief as it kissed your face. Geon held you to his chest as you attempted to stand straight. Dohee came over with a water bottle, dapping at your skin with a handkerchief.

“Poor, baby… You’re sweating.” She muttered.

“Are you alright, (Name)-Ah?” Geon asked, helping you to sit down on the outdoor bench. You practically collapsed and went limp, chugging at the water bottle.

“It looked like he was having a panic attack. (Name)-Ah, do you have any medication for it?” Dohee said. You forgot she was a therapist.

You coughed slightly. “Why are you guys here?”

Dohee smiled somberly. “Well, Friday was Junhan’s death anniversary so we came to visit his grave. We were going to go back to Seoul yesterday but I wanted to visit the church to see some old friends.”

“I’m sorry,” you suddenly whispered. “I haven’t been visiting his grave often.”

Geon patted your head. “It’s alright. We know you love him. How have you been? Is everything treating you alright?”

You frowned. How much should you tell them? Back then, they certainly knew your father hated you. It wasn’t exactly a secret. There were so many times you ran to Junhan’s house to stay the night or even weekend to get away from home.

“I just… I just always feel anxious and terrible when I hear Genesis.” You admitted.

“Genesis? Why? It’s simply about disobedience.” Geon handed you Dohee’s handkerchief that you greatly accepted.

You shook your head. “It’s not over the story’s meaning itself… It’s more so on the memory surrounding it.”

Dohee and Geon didn’t make attempt to press you on it, thankfully. Geon went back inside to grab some more water as Dohee sat down beside you.

“Have you been treating yourself well?” She asked.

“Yes… I have.”

“Mhm.” She glanced over at you. “You can always contact us or even visit us, (Name)-Ah. Just because Junhan is gone doesn’t mean we have to leave your life as well. I felt like you were my own son back then. And even now, you’re my son. I worry for you. I want you to be happy, doing whatever you so wish.”

You frowned, biting your lip. “Anything? What if what I want to do is against God?”

“You want to murder someone?”

“What?! No!”

“Then what could it be? Do you truly believe in God? I remember how you speak about God—it’s always in fear. You never seem happy in church.”

You stared at her. “I guess… I guess I didn’t willingly want to go to church. Coming to church makes me anxious. I don’t like it here.”

“Then why come?” Dohee patted your leg. “You’re not a child anymore. You’re twenty-five. I assume you have your own apartment?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you letting your moth—your fear control you?” She gave you grin. “Before you started going to church, you were so bratty. No one could tell you to do anything without getting into a screaming match. You had to be presented a PowerPoint to do anything. I know it’s been too long for you to truly be that person again.

“But I believe you can see your worth. It’ll take time but you need to stop letting God or anyone else tell you what to do.” She sighed, pulling away just as Geon came outside with a water bottle. He handed it over to you.

You stayed outside with Geon and Dohee for a while longer. They told you to visit them whenever you came back to Seoul and left. It almost felt amazing to be with older people who were normal. You thought back to Dohee’s words as people began to leave church, signaling the service was done.

Your mother and her usual group of friends came over with their children. You usually attempted to force a smile but you didn’t this time, too tired to really do anything. So you didn’t even try to stand up when they were right in front of you.

“Lee (Name), are you alright? That was so scary? What happened?” A woman asked.

“Stomach bug.”

“Stomach bug? But why did you scream?” A man asked, one of the older woman’s son. His wife was right beside him, holding their daughter. You knew that’s what your mother was praying day and night for you to have.

“I was going to throw up if she held me back.”

Your mother looked angry but you didn’t say anything to her. The group began talking a bit amongst themselves when one of your mother’s bestest friend came over with her daughter who was close in age with you.

The mother was Sieun. Her daughter being named Gayoung if you could remember.

“(Name), you gave us quite a fright! Gayoung was so worried she was about to rush out to see if you were alright.” Sieun said, subtly nudging her daughter.

Gayoung smiled shyly, pushing at her hair. “Are you okay now, Lee (Name)..?” She whispered.

You knew Gayoung was any Christian man’s dream girl. A pretty girl who was quiet and modest. It wasn’t her fault that her mother was so desperate to marry her off to any man.

“I need to go, the virus is coming back.” You said, standing up. The three women stared at you in shock as you walked away.

It felt absolutely awful to leave them like that but you didn’t think you could handle staying there for a second longer. You just wanted to get home and collapse on your bed before work tomorrow.

You wanted to die.

It took longer for you to get home because of the need to stop multiple times. But you finally reached it. You got inside and kicked your shoes off, sluggishly dragging your body to your bedroom.

You plopped down with a huff, reaching into your pants to pull out your phone. It was around 4 pm.

You attempted to just sleep then when your eyes landed on a jacket resting on your door. It was fluffy and the most expensive thing in your house. Eunjae’s jacket. You slowly got up and grabbed it, hugging it to your chest.

The scent was nice. It must’ve been recently washed before Eunjae gave it to you. You dropped the jacket on the bed and began taking off your clothes. The clothes landed half hazardously around the room. Your finger tugged at your boxers before you slipped it off as well.

A grin pulled on your lips as you crawled into the bed, right over the jacket. You sprawled it out and leaned down, sniffing it. It was soft against your face. A weird feeling was taking you over as sat up.

In your twenty-five years of life you never masturbated.

Never.

Sexual pleasure was wrong.

Or the pleasure you wanted.

When you had moved out, you thought you would finally be comfortable enough to masturbate. But when you looked up porn, you noticed yourself paying more attention to the guy than the girl.

You had never touched porn again after that.

The most you had ever done was with Junhan.

But even then, you two didn’t go far because you were too scared. You had seen his cock and almost attempted to lick it. You wondered how far your relationship could’ve gone if you weren’t so scared about being punished.

Who could even punish you?

Dohee was right—you were an adult. You couldn’t live your entire life hoping to make your parents happy. To get the love from a man who doesn’t even say your name.

You stared down at the jacket. It can’t be too hard to wash a jacket, right?

Besides, it’s really soft. Is this real fur?

You slowly pressed your lower half against the jacket, your cock twitching already from the sensation. A whimper left your throat as you began to grind against the jacket. You started off slow before that wasn’t enough.

You rutted against the jacket, arching your back to get a better angle. It was so soft but that meant there wasn’t a lot of feeling in rutting. Your hand reached down as you hesitantly grasped your cock, shivering at the feeling.

The sensation was a bit much but you began jerking off. Your hips still moved as your toes curled, your orgasm already coming. To think you were missing out on this.

A stuttered whimper left you as you came, coating the soft fur beneath you. You sighed, pulling your hand away. Well, you could again…

You began to rub down against the jacket again, closing your eyes as you tried to reach a second orgasm. Maybe it was because it was his jacket you were using but you suddenly wondered what Eunjae would think if he saw you like this.

Would he be angry? Punish you for running his clothes with your cum?

Would he degrade you? The thought made you whimper—you liked his praise but you wanted to know how badly he could degrade you.

That couldn’t be normal but you were too close to think about the implications of that.

The high reached you quickly once again as your hips stuttered to a stop and you came. Your breathing was heavy as you pulled away, staring at the brown fur that was covered in white.

A weird sense of pride filled in your chest.

Now whenever he wore it, you’d be ingrained in it.

Wow, what the hell were you thinking?

You shook your head. Weird. That thought was weird. You need to take a shower.

And maybe masturbate some more.

Yeah, you have all night.

❝ 달콤한 어둠 아래 마녀들의 밤이 와 ❞

“You okay?” Eunha asked, sitting down beside you.

No, you weren’t okay. It had been over two weeks and you’ve been rutting against Eunjae’s jacket every night like a damn dog. You always managed to cum two times a row, last night reaching three!

You were insatiable. It must be your body wanting to catch up on all the years you’ve missed but it was fucking crazy that it was mostly dealing with Eunjae’s jacket!!

No way in hell you could return his jacket now. You washed it and now it was lighter than normal! How were you supposed to know you can’t bleach fur!

Eunjae would be furious!!! He’d make you pay him right away!

6,408,249 won!

That’s more than your fucking rent. That’s triple your rent!

You were so fucking screwed.

As you wallowed in self pity, you felt a pat on your back. Woohyun sat down beside you as he began eating his lunch. Eunha was still trying to ask you questions but you didn’t exactly want to tell her that you came all over a jacket and it was now ruined.

“Have you gotten back into therapy?” Woohyun suddenly asked. “I know the younger generation is much more mature about going to it. Is it too expensive now?”

“Seonbae!” Eunha glared.

You shook your head. “I won’t be able to afford therapy at this point.” You whined.

“Why?” Woohyun asked.

“Got stuck with a payment.”

“How much is it? I’ll help you.”

“Oh! Me too, Seonbae!”

“6,408,249 won.”

Woohyun and Eunha stared at you as if you were fucking insane. They both coughed before looking down at their food.

“Uhm sorry.”

“Sorry you’re going through that, Seonbae.”

“Thanks for the other anyway.” You muttered, finally eating your salad that you’ve been poking for over fifteen minutes.

That was the reason you haven’t called Eunjae despite wanting to. You practically hovered over his contact information each night before forcing yourself to bed. Why hasn’t he texted you? Why do you have to be the one to text him?

Was he finally taking to heart that you were the elder in the relationship?

Man, you didn’t care about that anymore.

Well, sort of. You still wish he had some respect for you.

The rest of the day was uneventful as you took the train back to Incheon. You actually made it home before the train got filled to the brim with people. Once you made it to your apartment you almost thought about masturbating again.

But no, you couldn’t keep running away from your future payment.

You were an adult. That meant having to face the consequences of your actions.

You changed into an oversize t-shirt and gym shorts. Your phone was staring at you as you hesitantly grasped it. You scrolled your limited contacts before landing on Eunjae’s. Your finger hovered over his contact before you slowly pressed it, anxiety taking over.

It rang for a few moments. You almost wondered if he wasn’t going to answer until it finally picked up.

“Gangaji…. What took you so long?”

A giggle almost escaped your lips but you managed to stop it by biting your tongue. “It’s Lee (Name).” You said, gotta have some form of self respect. “I wanted to know when I can return your jacket.”

“You can return it now.”

“Huh? But I’m back home in Incheon.”

“I’m in Incheon right now.”

“Huh?”

“I was visiting a friend who lives here. Tell me your address.”

You got ready to refuse, it wasn’t smart to tell a stranger your address. But when your lips parted you ended up telling him your address.

Fucking idiot.

“See you, Gangaji.”

It didn’t take too long for him to knock on your door. You had practically jumped up and ran to open it.

There he was; dressed in a simple t-shirt with baggy jeans. He didn’t even wait for you to invite him in. You almost yelled at him for that until he looked back at you and grinned. Wow, his smile must regularly make girls faint.

“Where’s my jacket?” He asked, causing your body to freeze up.

“Ah uhm. Slight problem, when I attempted to wash it I used bleach and now it’s really ashy in color.” You explained, waiting for him to yell at you and ask for payment.

But he didn’t, he looked amused. Eunjae hummed. “Okay. Lemme see.”

You nodded and went to your room. You grabbed the coat, ready to turn back when you see him entering your room. A gasp left you as you almost jumped out of your skin. Eunjae only grinned before glancing down at his jacket.

“Ah, you really did ruin it.”

You frowned. “Yeah… I know it’s over 6,00,000 won… I can’t pay that right now but I can do it in fragments or something.”

Eunjae only tilted his head. “Why did you wash it anyway?”

“Ah! I got it dirty!”

“How?”

“Ah….”

A sly smirk appeared on his lips as he stepped towards you. You flinched, taking a step back. It continued until your legs bumped against the edge of your bed and you fell down. Eunjae took advantage of that and trapped you down on the bed, his hands resting on either side of your head.

“Tell me. I deserve to know. It was my favorite jacket.”

You gulped. His favorite? Oh for fucks sake.

This was going to be so embarrassing. You clutched the coat to your chest as you closed your eyes, not wanting to look Eunjae in the eye.

“I.. got cum on it.” You whispered.

“What was that?”

“I cummed on it!” You cried out, waiting for the anger.

It was silent for a moment. You opened one eye before glancing up at Eunjae. The sight was shocking to say the least.

He didn’t look angry… he looked almost pleased..?

“Did you, Gangaji? Don’t you know that makes you naughty?” He asked, his right hand moving to grab the jacket. “But you were telling me that I have to speak to you with respect… yet here you are, cumming on my clothes like a pathetic dog.”

You whimpered as he pulled the jacket out of your grasp. He tossed it across the room before leaning down, his nose brushing against yours.

“Did you think of me? Or were you just using it because it was so soft?”

Your cheeks flushed. “A.. a few times..”

“A few times…” Eunjae’s hand trailed down your chest, grasping the edge of your shirt. He roughly pulled it up and forced it into your mouth. A strangled gasp left your lips just as you were about to spit it out when he glared at you. “Keep that between your teeth. You don’t want to act out anymore, do you?”

Eunjae smiled when you bit down on the shirt. His hands gripped your gym shorts, pulling them down without any hesitation. You could only watch as he rubbed his palm against your clothed cock. Your boxers were already tight against your skin but felt even tighter as your cock began to harden.

“Cute. I had so many ideas on how you’ll be but you’re already better than any imagination.” He said.

His palm slowly rubbed your cock. He made no effort to take your boxers off even as you began to whimper. Your hips stuttered from the feeling, wanting to just quickly jerk off. This teasing isn’t something you were used to.

No matter the fact it was another man. Despite yourself, you were thinking about how much of a sin this was. How you were disappointing everyone in your family. You were disgusting in the eyes of God.

Tears prickled your eyes as you tried to push the thoughts away.

“(Name).” Eunjae suddenly said. Your eyes opened as you stared up at him. His face was devoid of any emotion as he released his grip on your cock. You could only watch as he reached beneath your shirt. A shriek left your lips when you felt something snap against your skin.

His hand pulled out and in his palm was your cross necklace. You could only watch in awe.

“My poor Gangaji.” Eunjae muttered. You didn’t know if he was actually worried about you or being patronizing. “You’re already broken. That’s no fun.”

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss against your lips. “I’ll have to build you back up.” He whispered against your lips. A moan left your lips as his free hand slipped into your boxers, grasping your cock with ease.

He quickly jerked you off, your back arching as the orgasm was immediately building. You were withering and moaning beneath him, grasping at the bedsheets beneath you. The shirt had already left your lips as you couldn’t hold back your whimpers.

Your toes curled as he pressed kisses along your neck. It was different with someone else. You thought you were about to die from the pleasure.

“Cum, Gangaji. Cum for me.”

A loud cry filled the room as you cummed, coating the inside of your boxers. Eunjae pulled his hand out as he pressed it against your lips. You whimpered as he pried your lips open, slipping his fingers into your mouth.

It took a moment before you began sucking on them, cleaning the cum off his fingers. Your cock twitched again. You wanted to cum again.

Eunjae chuckled. “Wow, you’re insatiable, huh?” He asked, grasping your bulge again. You whimpered, staring up at him with wide eyes.

He only smirked before rubbing your cock against your boxers. You immediately went into a panting frenzy as he rubbed a quick orgasm out of you. Eunjae hummed, seemingly shocked you came so quick.

“Cute.”

You laid on the bed in a daze, wanting to just sleep. But Eunjae had other ideas as he began to undress you. “Can’t sleep here, you need to bathe.”

A whine left your lips but you didn’t stop him. You felt his arms beneath your body before he hoisted you up.

“Stay awake for me, Gangaji.” He said, pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Tell me the code to your front door.”

“Hngh… 1004.”

“Angel?” Eunjae laughed. “Cute. You really are cute, Lee (Name). I don’t want to leave you alone for a second.”

You hummed. “Then don’t…”

You must’ve fallen asleep because you woke up hours later alone in your bed. You almost felt disappointed but fought the feeling away. It was okay… At least he wasn’t going to charge you for ruining his jacket.

But you still felt so empty.

Your hand reached up to touch your chest. The cross was gone.

And you couldn’t help but feel a little relieved.

❝ 데려가 줘 영원히 마녀들의 밤이 와 ❞

It had been a week since you last seen Eunjae. You almost felt like you imagined him. But his jacket was still at your house, he never ended up taking it.

You would still rut against it to masturbate. It was still so good. But it never felt the same as when Eunjae jerk you off. You had stopped going to church and seeing your parents.

Though there were nights you cried and prayed to push the thoughts away. In your heart, you knew you were gay. You hadn’t answered your mother’s calls. Even ignoring Yerin and Yena.

You knew that would implode on you one day but at least not today.

You came home from work, ready to collapse on your bed once more.

But you noticed there were moving boxes right outside your door. You gasped, wondering if your landlord was kicking you out or worse! Until you punched in the code. It hadn’t been changed. You slowly pushed it open to see nothing had changed.

Then…

You heard a laugh coming from your spare bedroom. There was nothing in there because you could never afford to buy anything so it was your spare closet. You hesitantly walked over to the door, slowly pushing it open as well.

The room was fully furnished. A small little sofa against the wall. A whole desk with a PC and everything. A few more boxes in the room that possibly haven’t been opened yet.

In the center there was someone in the chair.

Your eyes widen as the person took off their headphones before swirling the chair around.

Moon Eunjae stared at you with a smirk.

“Welcome home, Yeobo. Sorry I took so long, I had to break the lease of my apartment back in Seoul.”

What the fuck?!

Finally!! I got Eunjae’s first chapter! I originally didn’t plan for pet play to be his main kink but realized it suited him a lot. 1004 sounds similar to the Korean word for angel (천사) that’s what Eunjae says “angel.” He isn’t as manipulative in this cuz I gotta set things up but he’s gonna turn insane in later chapters. Also, it’s pronounced Gang-Ah-Ji in case you’re confused.

Also I know Genesis 19:26 isn’t about homosexuality, but my grandma used that against me when I told her that I might be trans to persuade me to stay Cis so that’s why I used it here.

Tag list: @joonggphilia @the-ultimate-librarian @smellwell @tehyunnie @ofclyde @iwishtobeacrow @chill-guy-but-cooler @star-3214 @tomoeroi @cherry-blossoms-187 @rhetorical-conscience @mooncarvers-world @euthymiko @kiiyoooo @love-kha1 @remdayz @mello-life25

Translations:

두통 (the title) — headache

다가와. 다가와, 자기야. (Come close. Come close, baby)

내가 너를 유혹하니? (Am I tempting you?)

너무 순종적이잖아. 맛보고 싶지 않아? (You’re so obedient. Don’t you want to taste it?)

그만해? 왜? 나는 진실만 말해. (Stop it? Why? I only tell the truth)

❝ 차츰 어둠이 드리울 테니 ❞ (the darkness is being casted slowly)

❝ 달빛 아래 숨죽인 나 ❞ (i hold my breath under the moonlight)

❝ 달콤한 어둠 아래 마녀들의 밤이 와 ❞ (in this sweet darkness, the witching hour descends)

❝ 데려가 줘 영원히 마녀들의 밤이 와 ❞ (take me, the endless witching hour decends)

Songs used: Reveal by The Boyz and Apple by Gfriend

[joelsdagger]

intermission || joel miller x f!reader

shout out to @dinandwhiskey for feeding into my delusions for this one and to @skrunkly-scrimblo for the beta <33

pairing: daddy dom!joel miller x f!reader summary: movie night with joel doesn’t go to plan, or joel fucks your mouth while you’re sleeping. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ rating: 18+ MDNI warnings: [No Outbreak], established relationship, age gap [reader is 24, joel is late 50’s] , dd/lg dynamics, daddy kink, somnophilia [no explicit consent in this fic but she’s cool with it, therefore dubcon], oral [m receiving], face fucking, deepthroating, finger sucking, praise kink, pet names [little bug, little angel, baby, the works lol], references to tummy bulge, references to unprotected p in v sex, mentions of creampies, cum eating, reader can be carried [tho in my mind joel is huuuuuge so size kink as well], Joel’s POV. word count: 2.3k a/n: happy father’s day (iykyk) :3

series masterlist | masterlist | ao3 | playlist

dividers by @saradika-graphics

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. 

I don’t fall asleep during movies, daddy, you had sassed him. 

Whatever you say, little bug. 

That was an hour ago and now you’re resting your pretty little head against his belly, your hand tucked beneath your head. You look so peaceful. So pretty. So soft. So – pliant. 

He really shouldn’t. 

But then your hand slips from under your head and falls to rest a hair's breadth away from his clothed cock, it jumps in his sweats. You’ve practically pavloved him to react like that with just a mere graze of your fingertips. 

“You got no idea what you do to me, sweet girl, drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy over here,” his voice a low rasp, reaching for your fingers and gently pulling them from his lap, squeezing your fingertips twice before resting them atop his thigh. 

You’re completely limp, deep in your sleep and Joel is unable to control himself.

He snatches up the remote, hastily turns down the TV, shoves his gray sweats down to the middle of his thighs and frees his semi-hard cock. He wraps a hand around the base, gives it a firm tug, and rests the tip of his length on your lips.

He stills and swallows hard. He shouldn’t do this. He can’t do this, it feels selfish to take what he’s been desperately wanting from you — for the better part of an hour — when you’re unable to respond. He should wake you. 

But then, almost as if you’ve made the decision for him; your lips part and a soft moan releases from you, mmm, daddy. His cock twitches against your lips, opaque droplets already gathering at the slit. Your lips stay parted and the glistening tip slips between your plush lips. 

“Fuck– ” He groans at the sensation, eyes rolling back into his head, hand flying up to the back of yours, cradling your skull in an attempt to anchor himself as he slowly rolls his hips up into you. He stiffens fully at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth around him. It feels fucking incredible. 

How the hell did he get here? A rare lazy sunday night with you on his lap, taking a man almost three times your age in between your lips, letting him use you in your sleep. 

He remembers first laying eyes on you. You showed up on his porch one night, not too long ago, with sparkling eyes and a shy smile on your face. He didn’t even hear what you had said to him, too distracted by the soft skin of your exposed thighs just below the hem of your pale pink dress — barely covering the plump shape of your ass — and the flow of your hair as a wave of muggy summer heat swept past. He thinks it was something about the leftover cake from your birthday. He only guessed that from the sad, fat square slice of funfetti birthday cake held up in a flimsy paper plate before him, the letters jaggedly cut down the middle of the celebratory phrase.

Joel is a strong man; at least that’s what he tells himself. He knew you were too young for him. The split letters that barely spelled out twenty-four on your birthday cake told him as much. Trouble, he’d muttered. He still mumbles that occasionally when you push his buttons, though hours later, he often finds himself burying his length deep inside of you, tears pricking your eyes while he stretches your needy cunt.

But then you glanced up at him with wide, curious eyes and flashed him a big, toothy smile — the prettiest little thing he’s seen in all his long, hard years — and he cracked; his cement walls came crumbling down. He brought you inside his home, into his too-small bed, and fucked you until you cried, until you asked him for a break only to climb on top of him minutes later, begging him to feed you his cock again.

His cock pulses on your tongue at the memory, your voice high-pitched as you cried, Daddy, please, I want it. And Joel couldn’t resist his special girl. How could he? When you softly gasped into his mouth as he pushed the blunt head of his cock past your puffy folds — nuzzling in and making a home for himself — where he belongs. Your warm, drooling cunt sucking him in to the hilt, sheathing the entirety of his hard length inside your messy little pussy. 

Joel is a strong man, but not when it comes to you. 

Please, please, I need to feel it inside me. All the way up here, daddy, you whined, one hand gliding up your belly, the other fisting the fabric of your lace-trimmed dress. He just couldn’t resist you. So he fucked you and fucked you deep, until he was in the soft pouch of your tummy and poking through from the other side, just as you had asked of him. He fucked you full of his spend, until your poor, tiny hole couldn’t take any more of his cum. 

He’d damn himself to hell before he’d refuse you. He only hopes you don’t deny him if you wake. 

His deft, roughened fingers brush the hair out of your face before settling his hand back on your head. He sits up and leans over; marveling at the stretch of your lips around him, sweat beginning to pool at the nape of his neck and the corners of his temples. 

He feels filthy. A dirty old man. He’s never taken you like this before. But it doesn’t feel wrong. He’s only missing those pretty sounds you make —

You stir and let out a soft moan around him. Sweet Jesus, there you go. Your head dips lower down his belly, nestling more of his length into your hot mouth. Atta fuckin’ girl. Let me in, baby. Open up real big for daddy. 

“Such a naughty little thing, lettin’ me fuck your throat while you’re sleepin’, just needed to be full o’me huh?” He whispers softly, and at that, you hum. Joel can’t help when he bucks up into your mouth in response, saliva pouring past your lips and onto his graying pubic hair. 

“Fuck, baby, you like gettin’ daddy all messy? Like chokin’ on daddy’s big cock?” He taunts, a grin tugging on his face. 

Once again, as if you can hear him, you hum. 

You’re so damn responsive. Or maybe you just like having his dick in your mouth.  

“Fuck, yeah, you do,” he pants, his voice strained with restraint. His free hand glides down to the swell of your ass — the softest skin he thinks he’s ever felt — and hikes up the frilly hem of those pink sleep shorts that he likes a little too much — the ones speckled with tiny red hearts — over one cheek, grabs a handful of your plush flesh, and squeezes. You moan, and Joel feels your tongue twitch, feather-like, beneath the heavy weight of his cock, then pressing up against the thick, pulsing vein on the underside of his shaft. He bites down on his lip to muffle the loud moan that sneaks past his lips, the back of his head hitting the couch behind him. 

“Goddamnit, takin’ me so damn well, even in your sleep, such a good fuckin’ girl,” he babbles, his eyes shut tight as he revels in the feeling of himself in your mouth, the action movie silently playing on the screen flashes against his eyelids, measured shaky breaths escaping him. The strong hand on your head easing you lower and lower to take more of him, your lips now grazing the drool drenched hair at his base.  

Your mouth feels like velvet around him — warm and soft and so perfect that his hips cant upwards unconsciously, the pace of his thrusts increasing. He’s losing himself in the haze of his fast-approaching release, a deep-seated tension building in his gut, teetering on the edge until—

You splutter around him and Joel’s head snaps up to peer down at you, your eyelids flutter open against the soft glow of the television.

“Shit, baby. ‘M sorry,” he rasps and quickly retracts his hand from your head. Yet, you don’t pull yourself off him, instead you curl your weak fingers into his thigh. You don’t want him to stop. 

“You want me to keep going?” He asks gruffly, he knows you can take him, you’ve done it countless times since you have met. He’s trained you well. Yet, he needs to be certain he’s not reaching your limit. 

You drag your lips off his cock, an obscene wet slurping sound fills the too still air, letting off him with a pop and maneuvering yourself to sit up on your knees. “Yes, please daddy,” your voice still thick with sleep, peering up at him with an innocence to your needy gaze; a mixture of drool and precum coating your pouty lips. 

“Christ,” he mutters, under his breath. Such a pretty fuckin’ sight. One he reckons he’ll never get tired of seeing. He can’t deny you. Not when you look at him like that. 

“Okay, baby, here,” he murmurs, his hand retakes its place on the back of your head, guiding you toward his aching cock, your lips latch onto the fat head — all angry and red — and he inhales a shuddery breath as he watches your face contort at the stretch of him in your mouth. 

Your tongue flattens underneath him and he presses himself deeper into your willing mouth, filling you up and messaging the walls of your throat with the wide head of his cock. 

His grip in your hair tightens and a low groan rumbles in his throat, “There you go, baby, hold still.”  

Fucking hell. He could keep you here forever. 

“So goddamn pretty like this, baby,” Joel grits, “Love havin’ your mouth stuffed full o’ my cock, huh?” 

You make a low muffled sound around the length of his cock.

“S’right, you do,” he answers for you.  

His free hand trails down the length of your body, instinctively gripping the meat of your ass, dull fingernails digging into your skin, just barely grazing your puckered hole. You whine around him, the vibrations from your throat has him flexing his fingers your hair in response, and with shallow, quick thrusts of his hips, he fucks himself into your mouth. 

Fresh tears begin to sprout in your eyes as you gulp hard, your throat constricting around him. Joel feels his throbbing tip choked tight at the small opening at the back of your throat. The warm walls of your throat so tight — so good for him — the muscles in his belly tighten, and the hand on your ass is quick to join the other on your head, gripping your skull. “Shit— that’s it, angel. M’comin’.” His dick pulsates on your tongue, and a loud, guttural groan spills from him as hot, thick spurts of his cum coat your throat. His hand holds you there, firmly pressing your mouth flush to his spit-smeared balls. He feels you swallow around him again, and he whines quietly. The muscles in his jaw go slack, and his head falls back onto the couch while he lazily thrusts upwards, his leaking head bruising the back of your throat as he empties the last of himself into your mouth and filling your belly, his chest heaving from exertion.

He lifts his head when he feels you pull off him; you cough softly against him, the warmth of your breath brushes against his now softening cock, and his hooded gaze meets the sight of a thin string of saliva and cum dribbling from your wet, puffy lips, tears dripping from the corner of your eyes and down your cheeks. “Oh, c’mere, little bug, lemme see.” 

Just as he taught you, you plant a small, wet kiss on each of his heavy balls. Joel sighs through his nostrils. Fuck. What did he do to deserve you? You’re too good for him. You scoot over to sit up in his lap. Joel feels the slick between your legs through your tiny shorts when you press against his soft cock. He lets out a little groan; if he hadn’t just come, he’d be getting hard at the sensation.

His hand reaches to grip your jaw, angling your face up as you present him with your open mouth, the corners of his lips twitch at the sight of the walls of your little throat; empty, swollen, and used. 

“My filthy girl, you did so good f’me,” he cooes, coaxing away your tears and swiping your glistening lips clean. He pushes the pad of his thumb — covered in slobber and cum — into your mouth and presses it onto your tongue. Your wet eyes lock with his as you enthusiastically suck his thumb clean. 

Man alive. Maybe you’ll damn him to hell.

You release his thumb and giggle, biting your lip and smiling up at him dreamily. “Thank you, daddy, I liked it,” you rasp quietly. 

“Yeah?” He breathes, both of his hands on either side of your face, thumbs stroking your wet cheeks. 

Your wide, glassy eyes meet his gaze, “I like when you do things that make you feel good, it makes me feel good,” your voice hoarse and small, fingers toying with the collar of his t-shirt.

“Well – you always make daddy feel good, little angel,” he praises, leaning forward to lay a long kiss to your forehead that elicits a breathy sigh from you, your eyelids fluttering closed. 

“You tired, baby?” He whispers, tucking your soft hair behind your ear, fingers stroking down your hair and twirling the end of the gathered strands between his fingers.   

You yawn quietly and give him a slow, small nod, a sleepy smile to your face as you sink down in his lap, your weeping cunt throbbing against him. He’ll play with your perfect little pussy in the morning. Maybe your other little hole too. 

He chuckles at that. “Alright, little bug...” he starts, tucking his soft cock back into his sweats. He scoops you up into his arms; his weak, achy knees pop, and a low grunt spills from him as he stands, “Bedtime.”

[5sospenguinqueen]

Tastes Like Gin | Max Verstappen x Best Friend! Reader

Summary: Max turns 27, and his best friend surprises him with a birthday party. Unfortunately, a few shots from his fellow drivers gives Max more confidence than he expected.

Warnings: Fluff. Friends to lovers.

Requested: No. Just a birthday piece

F1 Masterlist

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

redbullracing just posted

liked by schecoperez, christianhorner and others

redbullracing so many max memories 🎂 here’s to 27. happy birthday 

2,331 comments

christianhorner happy birthday, champ

f1 happy birthday, max

user not rbr only using pics of max in team gear

user waiting (not so) patiently for yn’s bday post because she posts the softest pics of max 

user i love how this post is just fans complaining about max’s car

→ user it’s ‘cause all the drivers will be waiting for yn to post 

user here’s to hoping for more wins when the autumn break is over

user have a purr-fect day 🐱

yn_ln just posted

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and others

yn_ln happy birthday, maxie. no matter how old you get, or how many records you set, you’ll always be the goofball that peed in my paddling pool. happy 27th 🧡🦁

5,533 comments

user yn’s yearly dose of humbling

→ user she always posts the most ego destroying photos of him

→ user as a best friend should 

maxverstappen1 i was 5! and you promised you would stop bringing that up

→ yn_ln was i drunk when i made this promise?

→ maxverstappen1 yes…

→ yn_ln then you know it doesn’t count

→ maxverstappen1 for my birthday this year, i’d like a new best friend

→ yn_ln already bought your present and i can’t refund it. soz

danielricciardo why have you posted two pics of him with his tiddies out

→ yn_ln you mean you don’t like the vertiddies? i’m blessing the mv1 fan base

→ redbullracing and my timeline 

→ yn_ln see

landonorris 27 years means 27 shots

→ yn_ln only if you’re taking him home at the end of the night. he can puke in your bathtub 

→ maxverstappen1 that was one time! and tbf, i’d just won my first wdc 

→ charles_leclerc why do you keep desecrating this woman’s water features

lilymhe ew, is that a man?

→ yn_ln i’m only friends with him for his money, i swear! you’re the only one for me

→ user um, haven’t you been friends since you were kids

→ yn_ln it’s called playing the long game. i could tell he was going to be rich since he was little

→ maxverstappen1 i can’t tell if i’m insulted or complimented 

maxverstappen1 added to his story

yn_ln added to her story

landonorris added to his story

landonorris replied to maxverstappen1’s story wow. what a gorgeous date → i still think you should set us up → maxverstappen1 fuck off → landonorris with a sight like that, i thought you’d be in a better mood

maxverstappen1 replied to yn_ln’s story i can’t believe you pulled off a whole surprise party without me knowing → you’re phenomenal  → yn_ln you’re not mad at me for ruining our nice, quiet evening like you were expected  → maxverstappen1 no. i get to celebrate with all the people i love → and we still had our quiet dinner just the two of us → i can’t believe you’ve done all of this for me → yn_ln i’d do anything for you 

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

Tangled in the white bedsheets, you realised you hadn’t changed out of your dress from the night before. Max’s old hoodie, a 33 above the breast, covered the top-half of your frame, providing some semblance of warmth and comfort. Head propped up on the pillows, you squinted at the bright screen in your hand. Blinking furiously, you couldn't tell if the pounding in your head was from the lack of sleep or the disbelief at what you had done. A friendship of over two decades ruined in a single night. Thumb swiping at the screen, a wave of shame washed over you as you scrolled to another post. And then another. 

Another image. Another angle. Another trending tweet. 

All of them accumulated in one place, screaming at you. For years you had buried the feelings you harboured for your best friend. Shoving them deep down below the surface, hiding them under quick-witted remarks and fleeting touches. He had never shown even an inkling that he returned the way you felt. Laughing it off when the other drivers questioned the nature of your relationship. Shoving you at Lando when he joked he’d “take you off his hands”. Asking you for fashion advice a few hours before a first date. And you had endured it all, in order to remain under the light of his platonic love. In one night, you had torn down the wall you had sloppily cemented together. 

The shrill sound of your phone pounded against your skull, piercing through the destructive thoughts. Blurry images of his face pressed against yours were replaced by a professional photo. Max’s face grinning back at you, his cheek smushed against the sliver of your face caught in the edge of the photo. Another night. Another celebration. A very different ending. 

“Why are you awake already?” You muttered to yourself, looking at the contact picture filling up your phone. You thought you’d have more time. More time to think of an excuse, to plan a lie, to pretend you knew nothing about it. 

About his face going viral, her body going viral, the pair of them connected going viral. 

“Morning, old man.” You answered, attempting a light-hearted tone. “I thought you’d still be passed out.”

“I tried,” grumbled Max. “But my phone wouldn’t stop blowing up.”

“That’s odd.”

“Uh, huh. You been on Twitter this morning?” 

Silence fell. You didn’t know how to respond to that with a clear voice. Max didn’t need you to. He could read your silence almost as well as your words. 

“Did that really happen?” 

A sting shot through your chest. Here came the let down. “Well, it can't have been a very memorable kiss if you don’t remember it happening.”

A false laugh echoed down the phone. Max’s eyebrows scrunched together and the unspoken pain. 

“I remember every second of it,” he said vehemently. “I just thought I was dreaming again.”

You didn’t hear his words. Already having prepared your next line. Say the words before he can. That’ll make them hurt less. 

“It’s okay. I know they didn’t mean anything. You were just drunk. I’m sorry it’s gone viral. I can’t imagine the kind of PR mess this will be.”

“No! No, I wasn’t. I mean, I was intoxicated, sure. But, not drunk enough to do things I didn’t mean-” 

“Max, it’s okay. I get it. Nothing will change between us because you had a few too many G&Ts. I’m happy to speak to PR with you and see how we can fix this-.”

“Will you just stop?” Max demanded, voice too loud to both your sensitive ears. He winced as you fell silent, sharp intake of breath filling his ears. “Stop trying to brush this off as nothing. Yes, Charles filled me with shots, and I was more easygoing than normal but I remember every. second. of. that. kiss. You had a cocktail umbrella tucked behind your ear, and Alexandra’s lipstick mark on your cheek. Lando had stolen your hair clip so it was down and loose, just how I like it. I was intoxicated but just enough to give me the courage I didn’t have before.”

“You tasted like gin,” was the breathless reply he got.

“What are you doing this morning?” Max asked, desperate to break the heaviness between the two of you. Desperate to hear your usual answer after a night out; ready for him to take you for a greasy breakfast to mop away the alcohol. 

He could hear your smile - picture it in his head - when you said, “Waiting for you to pick me up, of course.” 

“I’ll be there in 20.”

“Make it 30. I have terrible morning breath.”

Max’s laughter eased the tension in her body. “Maybe this time you’ll taste like mint.” 

maxverstappen1 just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, alex_albon and others

maxverstappen1 the best birthday gift this year 

6,333 comments

yn_ln i love you 🧡 i can’t wait to spend many more birthdays by your side

→ maxverstappen1 mijn hart

redbullracing finally. we’ve been waiting for this to happen since abu dhabi 2021

→ user rbr so real for that because the way he grabbed her. i fr thought he was going to kiss her there and then

→ maxverstappen1 i wanted to

landonorris but i got you personalised gaming headphones :( 

→ oscarpiastri and i got you the ultimate guide to minecraft

→ danielricciardo yes but neither of you got him laid. yn did

→ yn_ln daniel! 

→ charles_leclerc i got him drunk enough to kiss her. does that count?

→ yn_ln no! 

→ maxverstappen1 yes

→ yn_ln you guys suck

→ landonorris sounds like that was your job

→ yn_ln @/redbullracing @/mclaren @/scuderiaferarri pr training for all of them!

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

Requests are open. Coming up;

Drunk and flirty Toto

K Mag Part 2 ‘cause it seems I’ve converted some of you

[whoistartaglia]

at every table, i’ll save you a seat

and other small gestures genshin men make to show that they love you

this fic’s spiritual successor (“part two”)

wanderer covers the edge of the table whenever you bend down to pick up something. he claims it’s because you’re so unbelievably clumsy that you’re likely to hit your head on the way up. all mortals are so fragile, it’s the least he can do for you to protect “what’s left inside that thick skull of yours.”

diluc flips over your pillow if you get up to go to the bathroom or get a drink of water during the night. you’ll return to a nice cool pillow and practically fall asleep once your head hits it. if you should ever question how diluc always wakes when you do, he doesn’t. he’ll turn over the pillow in his sleep, your comfort overiding his subconscious.

kaveh reminds you if you have everything you need before going out. there’s nothing more he hates more than forgetting something at home and certainly doesn’t want you to experience that. if you find you are missing something, he’ll run and grab it for you. you don’t know who’s more relieved: you or him.

childe makes you snacks when you’re working. he grew up with siblings, he knows how to help you when you’re feeling stressed or just need an energy boost. his creations can range from ridiculously childish snacks like ants on a log or culinary masterpieces. whatever he feels you need at the time.

zhongli buys you random gifts. they can range from some candies he thinks you’ll enjoy to hair pieces crafted with the finest of jewels. most of the he’ll give them to you directly, but other times he leaves them out for you to find them: next to the bed, on your desk, in your bag. they tend to increase around the holidays, your birthday, or whenever zhongli simply feels like spoiling you.

xiao always opens the door for you. you can’t remember the last time you opened a door when you were with him. he doesn’t necessarily insist on doing it either; he just does. it’s become involuntary for xiao at this point. xiao see door, xiao open door for you.

kaeya always saves you a seat, at every table, at every meal. whether it’s he arrived at the tavern earlier than you or he’s sitting on a bench and thinks you may pass him on your way home, the seat right next to him is always yours. he wouldn’t have anyone else sitting there but you.

alhaitham reads to you when you can’t sleep. you don’t even need to ask him, either. ten minutes of you twisting and turning and he’s got the light back on, book open in his hands. sometimes, it will be his own research, which can put you to sleep instantly, but othertimes its chapters from a novel you both adore. this can have the opposite effect, with him reading until the sun rises and you haven’t got a wink of sleep.