#god there’s only a week left. let me out of the goddamn projects

[kordate]

hiiiiii @screamingay thank you for the tag! it sure is finals season, but i have had a good year :)

last song: currently listening to he doesn’t know why by fleet foxes. tbh surprised they didn’t rank higher on my wrapped

favorite color: purple always <3

last movie/show: last movie was charlie brown thanksgiving with my family last week. my dad owns the dvd so it’s a tradition

favorite flavor: lately i have been crazy for lemonade and limeade! i make it form concentrate and always get a glass when i get home it’s soooooo yummy. tickles my brain

relationship status: i need to crawl inside my boy i miss him <333333

last thing i googled: helter skelter slide. i was watching gbbo last night where glen made one out of biscuits and i had no clue what he was on about. (it’s a tall spiral slide popular at fairs)

current obsession: sadly it’s my homework 😔 i’m wrapping up part 1 of my senior project and it’s a cool project! i’m excited for it! but god i just need it to get done…

tagging @cacaos @matrixresurrections @tricotage if ya want :D

[dreadsuitsamus]

Anytime | Kensei Muguruma x Reader |

author's note: this hurt a little bit to write lmao and i apologize in advance if it hurts you too

pairing: kensei muguruma x fem!reader

warnings: reader and kensei are divorced, a little bit of angst and jealousy

"I'm on my way."

It rings in your head, over and over, as you sit on the side of the road and wait for your ex-husband to come save you. Stomach a pit and each and every nerve wired and frayed, tears nearly brim in your eyes at the anticipation of his arrival. Being stuck on the side of a road you're sure hasn't seen a single driver on it in at least a week is one thing, and it's another when you've got three flats and an ex-husband with a hefty I told you so locked and loaded.

Your divorce with Kensei was finalized over two years ago, but the sad fact remains that he's the most important person in your life, and vice versa— which is why you informed him of this last-minute road trip, only to be warned against it.

"I don't think your car can handle that trip. Put it off until I can make sure everything is functioning properly."

And like a fool, you neglected to take it seriously and off you went to the festival. Perhaps it's why you had as great of a time as you did— karma was evidently waiting with a dish best served cold.

Your heart jumps at the sight of a black Silverado truck pulling up. He hates that damn truck, much preferring his fuel-efficient Elantra, but you've left him with no choice today. You're so distraught you can't even take much time to appreciate those long legs of his as he steps out of the truck; sometimes you wonder how you could be divorced from the most handsome man you've ever known.

Dressed in jeans with the platinum chain you'd gotten him many moons ago attached, boots and a black button down shirt, your gut tells you he was busy when you called. Looking so fine… He was on a date, wasn't he?

It burns.

With a resounding sigh, you meet him in the halfway distance between your cars. Kensei's never been particularly talkative and mouthy unless angry, and though there's certainly some simmering beneath the surface, he's calmer than you initially expected. He passes you a bottle of water and a protein bar before going to inspect the damage, subsequently sighing and rubbing his temples with his long fingers. "I'm amazed that your luck is so shit that you only got three flats so your goddamn insurance wouldn't cover it."

"I'm still trying to figure out how I only got three."

"Divine intervention." Kensei mutters bitterly and starts to roll up his sleeves past the delicious forearms that once would hold you up against the inferno that is the rest of his body at night. "When's the last time you even got these rotated, let alone changed?"

"I don't even know what having them rotated means."

Kensei sucks in a sharp, irritated breath and steels himself; it'll do no good to get upset this early into the project. He just… Wishes you fucking listened to him. About anything, at this point. "New rule. Get it done every time you get an oil change." And thank God your car is one that will bug the hell out of you about your service interval— he doesn't want to consider what your oil and other fluids would be like otherwise.

"Okay." You mumble and crack open the water, taking a long pull from the cold drink. It's refreshing and perfect, pulling your spirits up just a tad as you start to feel a little bit better physically.

"Eat that protein bar." Your ex-husband demands, heading for the bed of his truck and lowering the tailgate. He's got everything he needs for the swap— including time. "I know you, you little shit. You're running on a refresher from six hours ago and had a hearty helping of hopes and dreams to eat, didn't you?"

You scowl as you chew the protein bar. It's terrible, like every protein bar you've ever tried, but at least he got one that doesn't make you want to vomit. "I didn't call you here so you could lay into me about my eating habits."

Kensei's brown eyes cut to you as he lowers a tire to the ground. "You rather me go off about the rest of the shit you got yourself into now, then? 'Cause I was saving it for later."

Rolling your eyes, you look away from the man you married six years ago. He huffs and resumes himself, setting up a workstation and prepping your car to start swapping the new tires on. You find a spot nearby him, settling down onto the lawn chair you took to the festival as he begins cracking off lugnuts. Sparing a glance your way, Kensei feels a bit of a tug at his heart despite his rage. You may be his ex-wife, but you've never been bad to him a day in his life. "How long did you sit here before you called me?"

"About two hours." You sigh, finishing the water after forcing the protein bar down. "I tried to get my insurance to help me. They wanted to charge even more because it's a Sunday and I just don't have the money for all that. I considered just camping out for a night and having them come out tomorrow, but…"

Kensei shakes his head. He was waiting for your call or text announcing you were back home; that plan would never fly as long as he's in your life. "We gotta get you a new insurance policy, babe. You're done paying for one that would leave a woman stranded like that."

"Yes sir."

Silence settles in for a while as you watch Kensei work. A light bead of sweat trickles from his temple to his neck, and then he tosses his tools down to carefully slip the buttons open and take off his shirt. If it's somehow possible, his biceps are bigger than they used to be. Leaving himself in a white tank top, he tosses the shirt your way. "Keep that clean for me, yeah?"

"Mhm." You slip into the oversized shirt, his handsome smelling cologne flooding your senses. He's not slick at all; it's chilly out in this wasteland, and rather than simply ask if you're cold, he'd rather ensure you won't be.

His unstoppable air of authority wraps you up, even now.

"Were you busy?" Tumbles out of your mouth after the beat of silence lasts too long. He's finished one tire already and it's really hit you how much you relied on him during your marriage.

It's no wonder he didn't fight to salvage it.

"No." He lies through his teeth and it's easy. Just a little too easy.

It's no wonder you served him divorce papers.

Huffing softly, your brow draws together. "Yeah, right. You got dressed all nice just to come bail me out? Bullshit. I'm smarter than you give me credit for, Ken."

"And yet, you went on this trip without getting your car checked out." Kensei snaps right back, irritation creeping up and warming his neck and ears. "If you didn't wanna wait for me, fine! Why not take it to Abarai's place?" He's got a point— You've known Renji for years now, and he'd always make time for a friend, his business needs be damned. He'd have it done in a day, easy.

Still, the embarrassment of being scolded like this lights your temper. "I told you, Ken, this trip was not planned. I had a friend up north mention the festival and we decided to go to it and meet up."

"Even if I accept that answer, which I don't, there's no reason for you to let your car get this bad! I don't even wanna look under the hood! Why do I always have to take care of your shit for you?? Time and time again, you fuck up and then you call me to bail you out!"

Your eyes widen with a series of blinks. He doesn't sound pissed as much as he's simply… Tired. Upset. Kensei being angry or frustrated is not foreign to you— on his surface, it's the only emotion he knows. But as his wife, you saw the softer side of his feelings. He does get sad, he does cry and he does have bad days like anyone else. And as you take in his tirade… The realization hits that those glimpses of his belly showing were almost entirely gone by the time of your separation.

That marriage was already doomed by the time you attempted to save it. Serving the papers to him wasn't supposed to do anything but show his true colors— he'd fight for you, or he'd give up. And Kensei chose the latter.

"Ken." You murmur carefully. "What were you doing when I called you?"

Kensei throws the tools down, rubbing his hands over his face. "I was on a date."

You'd rather have been left on the road to die than hear him say those words to you. The sinking feeling in your stomach threatens to send that protein bar back up just at the thought of him sitting at a restaurant with another woman, treating her in the same ways he'd treated you way back when. Kensei dating isn't unusual, per se. He's a single man, attractive and still quite young…

But he's yours.

"And you came for me?"

Kensei's hands drop to his lap. "For better or worse, babe: that's the promise I made you."

"The wedding vows don't particularly mean shit after the divorce." Tears of shock and hurt fill your eyes, though you refuse to blink and let them fall. He will not make you cry again, ever, but… The turn of your head to look away from him sure does accidentally force them out.

Kensei drops his head— he hates it when you cry, and hates himself for being the reason. He should've just lied again, brushed it off and moved onto the next flat. It wouldn't have worked though; the guilt he shoulders when he lies to you eats him alive, and it triples due to the look on your face when he does lie. You know he's not telling the truth, every time he tries it.

"I don't know why you think I'm the type of man to leave any woman stranded, much less you. You're the exception to every rule I have, always have been."

Your lip wobbles. It's true, you've always been the one to break Kensei's rules. He said he didn't date coworkers. But he dated you. He said he wasn't after a serious relationship. He married you. He said you shouldn't see each other after the divorce. Yet, he was calling and asking how you were doing not even a week later.

He's always loved you.

It's quiet for a while, and eventually Kensei gets back to the entire reason he's here. Clouds are rolling in, and he'll be damned if he gets caught in the middle of a rainstorm right now. His chest cavity feels empty and he wants nothing more than to crawl into his bed and sleep these horrible feelings away.

"Why?" You ask after a while, your few tears mostly faded now.

Stop, stop, stop! Stop asking questions, stop crying over your ex-husband moving on!!

"Why what?" Kensei mutters as he torques the lugnuts on the second tire.

You sigh to yourself, a beat of silence taking over again. Kensei's amber eyes flick over to you, snuggled into his shirt and avoiding his gaze as you curl into your chair. You're at war with yourself, that mental battle clear as day on what he can see of your face. His heartstrings tug, and next thing he knows he's wiping his hands and kneeling in front of you, cupping your cheek in his hand so you'll look at him.

His thumb swipes away a small tear. "Babe. Talk to me. You're not gonna feel better otherwise."

Your chest heaves at his touch, at his sincere eyes and warmth that keeps you so in love with him even now as a shudder wracks your entire body. "You keep your promises to me. You're always there when I need you. But why didn't you fight for our marriage?"

Kensei's silver brows raise before knitting together. "You wanted to leave. I wouldn't force you to stay if you weren't happy."

"I wanted you to care! I wanted my husband to tell me he still loved me and that we could work it out, but you didn't! You let me leave without so much as asking why!"

Kensei withdraws his hand. "Of course I cared! Does this—" He gestures back to your car. "Look like I don't care?? You had my whole heart in your palm, and you broke it! But I still come for you! All I want is for you to be safe and happy, and if it's not with me, so be it! You matter more to me than I ever have!"

"I've never wanted anybody else." Your eyes burn with fresh tears. You've never so much as entertained another guy for a potential date, let alone go out with someone after the divorce. There's nothing but your love for Kensei stopping you, but foolishly you hoped he would do the same; how unrealistic and unfair of you.

How many dates has he been on with this woman? Has he kissed her yet? The entire idea makes you want to scream and cry and cuss an innocent woman out for banging your husband. Ex or not, he's still so much of your heart that to lose him would ruin you.

"Then why divorce me?" He murmurs, standing and stepping back. The clouds are darkening, and he feels a hefty drop on his shoulder. "Why put me through a divorce if you wanted to stay together?!"

Anger boils inside your stomach, blood churning at an incredible pace as you rocket out of the lawn chair and fill the space he's created between you. "Why not fight?! If you love me as much as you keep saying, why didn't you fucking try?!"

"I already told you!" Kensei yells right back. "You wanted to go! So I let you go, because it's what you fucking said you wanted! You ended our marriage over a goddamn test, like the six years we spent together were some kinda fucking joke to you. You can't accuse me of not caring when you ended a four year marriage over petty shit!"

"I gave you a choice, Ken! I served the papers, but you signed them." You poke his chest harshly as two raindrops bounce against your forehead.

"I'm not having this argument with you; the shit's been said and done with for almost three years." Kensei turns his back to you as the rain starts a steady fall to swap out the last tire and get the hell away from you.

"Is she pretty?" It's beyond petty, so stupid and childish but you've got to know. If he likes this woman, or God forbid loves her, you'll never call him again. You'll die cold and alone before even considering reaching out to him, as an ex-wife to an ex-husband should.

Kensei stops in his tracks. "Yeah."

"Do you love her?"

"Never."

"Why?"

Kensei looks up at the sky, the gray clouds swirling as the rain descends. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, and it's the same as always every time he's left to gaze at the back of his eyelids— you and him on the night of your wedding, laying together in bed and giggling like teenagers at the prospect of your happy life together starting.

He turns, white tank top half soaked as he comes back to you and holds your face like porcelain. This beautiful face drives me crazy… "Nobody's ever gonna be able to be you."

You whimper and a fresh set of tears mixes in with the rain as Kensei leans down and kisses you, his passion so pent up that he's picking you up and pressing you to his truck before you can make heads or tails of anything. His shirt is swiftly bunched into your hand as the surprise subsides and the gratification fills you to the brim, your lips and tongue sliding with Kensei's in a messy reunification. Too long, it's been too long since you had this, since you felt his warmth on you and reveled in it.

His silver hair is silky between your fingers and he groans as you massage his scalp with your nails. He's always been a bit like a cat in that sense. Your legs around him and his arms around you tighten as you urge your bodies closer, leaving no room for even Jesus now. The rain pours around you, leaving you drenched by the time you've got no choice but to pull back, lest you die making out with your ex-husband.

All in all, not the worst way to go.

Kensei kisses your cheek gently, his lips lingering as he maneuvers to open the door to the passenger seat and shield you from the onslaught of rain. Peppering small kisses while he wipes the rain from your face, he turns the truck on and sets the heater up to keep you from getting sick.

He strips himself of his tank top once he's left you safely in the truck, tossing it in the truck bed before running to finish up the last tire change with this lucky break in the rain. Your fingers come to touch your tingling, smiling lips and you close your eyes as the space of Kensei's truck encompasses you.

By the time Kensei's back, his tools and your old tires all loaded up, you're beyond sleepy. Scooping you into his arms, your husband walks slowly and kisses your temple as he carries you to your car. "C'mon. Time to go home."

You steal a kiss off his lips, and by the time you're back in town, you weigh every option as you sit at a red light behind Kensei. Taking the next turn leads you home, but going straight will bring you right to Kensei's apartment building.

The light turns green.

[usaqaix]

hey guys!! i finished my first fic!! you can check it out on my ao3!!

Tuesday, December 18th

“Okay everyone, please be seated,” Mr. Donovan said, clapping his hands together. “I would like to announce that it’s time for Secret Santa! Please, take one piece of paper and pass others down your row. Then put your names in here,” He said, patting Santa’s hat, sitting on his desk.

“You’re going to have to pull one paper out of the hat at the end of this class.” Mr. Donovan put his legs on his desk and threw his arms behind his head, relaxing. “And I will get some goddamn rest…” He muttered under his breath.

Now, Steve wasn’t really in the mood for any of this. His mind was rough on him last night, wouldn’t even let Steve close his eyelids without showing him terrible flashbacks and nightmares from the past.

Steve barely managed to get an hour of sleep. He looked like hell and wasn’t in the mood for arguing with the teacher, either. So. Steve chose the safest option. He just wrote his stupid name on that stupid piece of paper and put it in that stupid Santa's hat.

He returned to his seat, running a hand through his hair, then palming his face. Steve let out an annoyed sigh.

“Pretty boy woke up on the wrong side of the bed today, huh?” Steve snapped his head up, knowing damn well who that voice belonged to. Billy Hargrove stood right next to him, fiddling with a piece of paper in his hands. Grin spread on his face. It was gonna be a long, long day.

“Jeez, give me a break, Hargrove.” Steve huffed, rolling his eyes.

“Whatever, Harrington.’ Billy laughed, patting his shoulder and going to Mr. Donovan’s desk to put his name in the hat.

When everyone was finished they proceeded to the class. Steve wasn’t a very religious person, but when he lay in bed last night, covered in cold sweat and feeling anxiety climbing up his spine, he thanked God and Mr. Dononvan for not giving them any homework.

He closed his eyes, hiding his face in his palms. Steve didn’t even realize that he had drifted off until he heard the bell ringing. Well, shit! He stumbled out of his seat and walked to the teacher's desk. There was only one piece of paper left. He took it in his hands and unfolded it.

Billy Hargrove.

Steve’s eyes widened. It has to be a joke. He looked up, studying his surroundings. He spotted Billy, gaping at his paper. He looked as frustrated as Steve felt.

It was gonna be a long, long week.

check the rest of it here :)

@flashwaves @ashyyboyy @every-dayiwakeup @atomrose @shieldofiron

[huenjin]

and they were roommates.

summary — who would have thought that a very naked sight of your best friend and a torn shower curtain in the rainiest of weathers could start romance? or in which you start falling for your childhood best friend, lee minho, unaware that he’s always been in love with you.

pairing — lee minho x reader, ft. binsung.

genre — fluff, smut, crack | roommates!au, bff2l!au

rating — 18+

word count — 11k words.

note — smut warnings under the cut, ofc! i suck at making summary adagafga!! but but but, i promise this story is adorable, okay, minus all that smut, my lame humor and those bit of rushed parts? this took forever and i'm so sorry for all that had to wait, especially the one who requested this uwuwu. 

smut warnings — a lot of kissing, a lot of swearing, mentions of naked exposure, fingering, cunnilingus, riding/reader on top, penetration, unprotected sex (wrap it before you snap it), choking. there isn't a loooot of smut either, ah! so enjoy the fluff ride.

"You idiot," you scream, loud enough for your neighbours to hear. You pull out the keys that hang outside in the key hole and pull open the door. "How could you leave the keys outside, Minho?"

"I mean, what if someone stole it?" You throw your keys and Minho's into the small box on a ledge by the door. Removing your shoes, you put on the pair of your house shoes by the side and walk further into the apartment. "Or what if someone broke in? You could get killed, you dumb hoe! Or worse, our new television could get stolen."

You hear no response and just the loud sound of shower running in the bathroom hits the walls of your shared apartment. You walk to your room, passing by the common bathroom, after throwing your bag on the sofa. You talk on the way, yelling in hopes that he would hear.

"Did you walk back in the rain? There's no other reason as to why I did not see you after college. Jisung was searching for you too, Minho."

You change into a pair of shorts and black camisole, pulling your hair up and knotting it, all while your ears pick up the small humming from the bathroom. You shake your head at the fact that since it's Lee Minho in the shower, he is probably going to take his own time to come out. After all, he is the reason why your water bill is so high. 

"Yah, Lee Minho!" You walk outside and hit the door with your fists to bring at least a little of his attention towards you. "Do you want the leftovers or should I get food delivered?"

"Delivery!" he screams back, hearing the shower sounds lower and you yell back in response, "Okay," and walk back to the living room, falling back and plopping down on the comfortable rexine covered sofa. 

Your phone rings in the next minute and you are pulling it from your pocket quickly all because you are bored out of your mind. It is also because your stupid best friend from the god forbidden age of five to till this date, takes forever to get out from the shower.

It's Jisung. Not that you would have a doubt even if you had picked up without looking at the name on the screen — your friend circle is that small. It has just been you, Minho and Jisung majorly for almost three fourth of your life, the other one fourth of it with you having your parents as your best friends. Jisung had always been the annoying kid in the playground that pushed you off the swing because he wanted to play and Minho had always been the knight in shining armour in your local playground, the defender of all things right as he saved you from Jisung's frustrating taunts. 

And then your mother — oh dear, she is the reason why you are still stuck with Minho's rich arse (mostly because she thought too that this is the finest her very antisocial daughter would ever find in a man) — decides that since Lee Minho was so kind to save her poor damsel-like daughter, he might as well do it forever. Fast forward to present day, and you are still cleaning up after him. 

"Did Minho reach home?" Jisung asks as soon as you answer the call. You roll your eyes and shift your position to one that allows you to stretch your leg against the length of the sofa.

"Oh, hi, Y/N," you fake your tone, mocking Jisung's ignorance. "Did you reach home safely? Did you get caught in the rain? Oh no!" And then quickly changing it back to normalcy, "Yes, Jisung. I reached home safely. The rain did get heavy as I walked back home but nothing to worry. Did you reach home safely?"

Jisung is laughing loudly on the other end. "Sorry, Y/N," he makes a weird kissing sound and you pull your phone away from your ear. "I presume Minho's safe at home, else you would be the one to crash my phone with the endless calls in worry of his safety. Ha!"

"He got caught in the rain," you sigh. "I hope he's okay though. I would have mentioned how he was, had he just come out of that goddamn bathroom but no! It almost seems like he is rebuilding the whole bathroom." Jisung laughs so loud that you have to pull the phone away from your ear again. 

"Dude, dude, dude," Jisung calls out for you through the line.

"Yeah?" 

"You and Minho are totally like my parents fighting." 

"Do you want to get punched in your face, Han Jisung?" You sit up straight, folding your leg across each other and bending forward, your elbow digging into your thigh as your hand supports your head. 

"And my boyfriend would punch yours if you punched mine," he huffs and you know he is talking about Seo Changbin. At a good five feet and six inches, the shorter male befriended Jisung and then wooed him over in grade eleven with some weird shining universe experiment for a science project and the Han Jisung you had always known, fell for the gesture immediately. They began dating a week after, making Changbin the only other human being you willingly chose to become closer to.

"Like Minho would let that," you click your tongue and Jisung laughs again, mumbling, "How have you guys not slept with each other yet? You guys are roommates."

"I'll kill you, Han Jisung."

"Like you would." The minute Jisung taunts back, you hear a loud noise of something crashing down and the sound is from the bathroom. You jump upwards, quickly hanging up without even telling Jisung that you were leaving as you drop your phone and rush towards the bathroom, taking huge steps to reach before the door in less than a few seconds.

You slam your fist against the door, over and over again, yelling, "Yah," to draw his attention before asking, "Minho, are you okay? I'm coming in," and you pull open the door to the common bathroom. A decision you wish you had not chosen but one you had to take for his safety.

Before a very surprised you lay a very, very naked Lee Minho, groaning with his back against the cold white tiles of the bathroom, neck lifting his head above to instinctively avoid hitting the floor. His hand holds a huge piece of the shower curtain that he must have tried holding onto before falling and as the colour drains from your face, lips wide apart, staring at your naked best friend in shock who is staring back at you, it dawns upon you quickly.

You immediately slap your hand over your eyes and scream as loud as you could possibly, "Fuck, fuck. I just saw your schlong, oh my god!"

"Are you not going to look at me at all now that you saw my dick?"

Minho rolls his eyes at you as a soft groan leaves his lip while he tries to make himself more comfortable on his bed. This time, he is fully clothed, black shirt over his torso and navy blue shorts. You are sitting on a small chair by his side, Chinese herbal medicinal mix in a white ceramic bowl, a tub filled with warm water and a towel and long white bandages on the table by the bed. The Chinese herbal medicinal mix was something your mother specifically ordered you to prepare for the boy before you.

You hand him a cup of warm water first which he takes and is about to swallow it down when you look at the wooden bedpost behind him and mumble, "But I saw your womb raider." Minho chokes on the water before coughing and you quickly pat his back which leads him to cry softly in pain and you are left apologising over and over again for being reckless.

He places the cup on the table and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he narrows his eyes at you and questions, "Womb raider? What the fuck?"

"You know, your schlong," you look away, heat rising up to your cheek. "I saw your schlong, a womb raider."

"I can't believe you call a dick that," he groans, rolling his eyes as if he has completely given up on you, "After having your womb raided enough by many womb raiders."

You look away, taking the ceramic bowl in your hand and mumbling, "None of them were long and thick enough to be called a womb raider though."

"Did you say anything, Y/N?" 

"Nothing," you yell and glare at him, cheeks still hot with the image still vivid in your head. "You can't look disappointed in me," you frown at him, "I should be disappointed. You tore the shower curtain."

"It was a mistake!" Minho gasps and tries to sit up but quickly ditches the plan when he feels the spin surge through him. You place the bowl back on the table and push yourself forward to help Minho sit up, your arms wrapped around his waist, your chest against his as you slowly pull him up. Minho explains himself, "If I didn't hold onto that, I would have gotten injured worse. I'm almost perfect now. It's just the slight—" You press your palm against his back and he seethes in pain.

"Slight pain, indeed," you scoff and finally let him rest against the bedpost. "This should do the magic though." You lift the ceramic bowl again and wave it before him, shoving the weird smelling green substance right in front of his nose. "My mother totally said it would work. She also said that you would have to be on the bed resting the whole day."

"You'll be my maid the whole day," Minho lights up, face instantly shining and you sigh, "Do I have an option? After this day though, we are going to buy shower curtains and you are going to pay for it because you tore it." You accuse him and he clicks his tongue.

"Fine."

"Remove your shirt now," you order and he looks at you, a teasing glint glistening in his eyes and he smiles, moving slightly closer.

"Why? Are you going to call my abs washboard now? That you could do laundry on them?" He purses his lips and leans forward and you push him back, his aching back hitting the bedpost again and Minho is crying with pain on the soft impact, albeit this time, you worry if it is fake. "Y/N," he cries, clamping down against his lower teeth hard, "Can you go easy on me?"

"Then stop teasing me!"

"Fine!" He huffs and looks away, "Help me out of this shirt now."

"What? Why? You put the shirt on fine. Can't you remove it on your own?" You question him, the ceramic bowl securely on your lap. Minho stares at you for the longest time ever and you stare back.

Has his eyes always been this tender? Has his skin always been this soft? Was Lee Minho always this charming and pretty to look at?

This is all because you saw his stupidly good dick, argh!

Minho finally answers, "It's harder to remove a shirt than to wear it." You shake your head and your eyes narrow to crinkled slits as you watch your best friend for a second more before placing the crucible back on the table and bending yourself forward to hold tightly the ends of his black shirt. You lift the black material up and remove it from his torso, exposing his abdomen and chest to the warm breeze in the air. 

He stares at you and you stare at him back, only till you take the white ceramic bowl again and hopefully the last time and you raise an eyebrow at him, mocking him, "Aren't you going to give me the classic Wattpad naked white male line?"

"What line?" 

He looks confused and you laugh, holding the bowl tightly, "You know, the—" You try to lower the pitch of your voice and to sound as cocky as possible, smirking, "Like what you see, baby girl?"

Minho laughs with you till he calms himself down a little, tilts his head and in the most guttural voice you have ever heard your best friend ever go, he repeats, "Like what you see, my baby girl?"

Your heart should not have sped up. Your fingers should not have tightened against the cold white crucible. You should not have pressed your thighs against each other. You should not have had your throat dried up at his very words. But it did and you are staring at Lee Minho in an angle you had never seen him. 

When did that stupid five year old boy who thought he could save the whole world grow up into this man?

"Uh, Y/N," Minho waves his hand in front of you, trying to bring your attention back. "Are you going to apply the medicine or? I mean, it's cold."

"Oh yeah," you stutter. "Yeah, yeah, I was about to. Can you turn back so that I can apply it on your back?"

"Yeah," he nods and pressing his hands into the mattress, he shifts himself, turning a one hundred and eight degrees away from you so that his back is facing yours. "This okay?"

"Yeah," you agree. You bend your arm forward to take the cloth soaked in warm water and you press it against his back. Minho bites his tongue in pain, eyes watering before he can't take it anymore and he turns back to face you. 

"Minho?"

"Can I do that thing you allowed me to do whenever I was in pain and you had to take care of me?" He asks, unsure, "Am I allowed?"

You nod, softly, smiling warmly at the man before you and you lift the chair up slightly. Minho quickly wraps his arms around your waist, his face buried into your soft chest as he edges closer to you. You place the warm cloth again on his broad back and Minho does what he has always done to combat pain.

He bites into your flesh softly, hard enough to trigger something weird within you at this age but soft enough to not cause any pain. 

Your eyes widen and your thighs tighten a bit but Minho is unaware to all this as he snuggles into your warmth, head fuzzy with the pain that throbs through his entire back. After a few minutes, you place the cloth back on the table and hold the crucible tightly. You dig your forefinger and middle finger into the green mix before applying it on his back, soft circles to calm him down and Minho lets go of your flesh, although he still continues to snuggle into you, his thick arms tightening around your frame.

"You're comfortable to hug," he mumbles as you apply the medicine all over his back, his face occasionally pressing against your breast and you gulp, reminding yourself that this is your best friend, that this is the kid you've seen in all his embarrassments. 

"Of course, I am," you laugh. "It doesn't pain that much, does it?"

"Not anymore."

"Good," and you apply another layer over the existing one. "Because if you say anything else to my mother, I swear to God, Lee Minho, I will—"

You don't complete. Minho laughs — soft, precious laughter that fills the air and engages your ears. He tilts his head to look up at you from his lower angle. You look down only to come in direct vision of his bright, glistening eyes that hold the stars behind them and his oh-so-flawless skin that you are envious of. Your heart beat escalates and you are about one hundred percent sure that Minho is aware. After all, he did have his ear against your chest in this position. 

"Fine, fine," his voice is airy and you could listen to it the whole day. "I'll tell your mother that her daughter took care of me perfectly, alright?"

"Perfect," you smile. "Now sit up straight. I need to bandage you up, just in case." Minho begrudgingly pulls back, a soft whimper leaving his lips before he huffs, folding his arms and sitting straight, looking you in the eyes and you gulp. 

"I'll be fine in a day, Y/N," Minho whines and you shake your head, mumbling, "Just in case." You turn your body to grab hold of the white roll of bandage before you beckon for him to come a little closer as you wrap the bandage over his torso, covering the medicinal herbs sticking to his body now. 

"You, in fact," you chuckle as you tighten the bandage and Minho seethes in pain at having his muscles pressed. You rub his hair affectionately before continuing, "You, Lee Minho, should be ready enough to cash out money for the shower curtain."

"Fine, fine, fine," Minho huffs only to break out into a smile as he looks at you. "We'll go as soon as I don't think I'll die if I stand up and straighten my back, okay?"

"Perfect," you laugh and pull yourself away from your best friend, clipping the bandage in the exact manner. You help him lie back against the soft mattress. You pick up the crucible and the tub of water as you stand up. 

"Y/N," Minho calls out for you and you turn, your head gliding against the joint and your eyebrows rising up in question.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks," he smiles, eyes closed and face so soft that you do want to hold it.

"For what?"

"For taking care of me, doofus. What would I have done had you not been there? You are my knight in shining armour now."

You laugh but your heart is furiously beating against your chest, thrumming against it so loudly that you can hear the beats. Your cheeks flush with heat and you look away, mumbling, "It's nothing," and walk away. You close the door quickly and fall against the vast wooden door finally, away from his presence and you hold the bowls close to you.

Fuck. When did your heart start beating this hard for the same man that you once knew as the stupid five year old with elephant print trunks? When did your heart start thrumming so loudly against your chest for your only best friend?

Either ways, you are doomed. Inevitably.

Jisung: baby, i think it's about time Changbin: for what? Jisung: you know, how we always said those two should probably fuck Changbin: yeah? Jisung: the sexual tension is too high. can we get it over with already and have them date already? Changbin: you've been trying this forever and you failed. Jisung: don't remind me. you're my boyfriend, support me. Changbin: fine! go, sungie!! i love you either way though.

It is exactly three days after the I-exposed-my-cock incident that Lee Minho agrees to go with you to buy the shower curtains. 

"Can't we just buy it online?" He had whined, arms folding against each other as he scrolled through his phone. You stand by the sofa, head shaking in disappointment as you reason back, frustrated, "The material," and you hit his arm. Minho winces. "The material is important. I won't compromise on that. Plus, you promised that you would come with me to buy something that you tore. Isn't that only fair?"

Minho does so. After bargaining with him for one tub full of mint chocolate ice cream that you will never understand why he loves so much. 

That is exactly how you find yourself here in this shop, shopping cart in your hand and Minho by your side.

"We are only buying the shower curtain," you tell him, staring at the half full shopping cart. "So I don't understand why we need all these."

Minho smiles sheepishly at you. He then points at the two tubs of ice cream and says, "One for you, and one for me. I even chose your favorite flavor!" He continues to point at each article and tell why he needs them very articulately and you stand there in surprise before breaking his speech.

"Fine, fine!" You push the cart ahead. "Now let's just go and get what we came here for." Minho follows you, his one hand on the shopping cart handle to keep pace with you. The two of you stop right in front of the array of curtains in different colours, some on display and some packaged and you smile, whispering under your breath, "Tada." Minho looks at you softly, at the small voice of joy that escapes your lips and he just watches you light up in fascination at something as simple as shower curtains.

Fuck, he loves your domesticity.

"Let's take this," Minho announces as he stretches his arms out to hold onto a pretty blue shower curtain. You hold it in between your fingers feeling the texture before announcing, "No."

"But why?" Minho whines, following your footsteps as you hold onto another shower curtain. 

"Because it's polythene," you frown at your best friend. Minho looks at you, confused, his eyebrows furrowing as they look at you like you have grown another pair of hands and legs.

"And so?"

"You could tear it again!"

"It happened once," he sighs, frustrated. "Once. It's not like I'm waiting to fall in the shower, tear the curtain and have you see my dick all the time, babe."

Your cheeks flush at his announcement and the tag he calls you by, your eyes looking away from his pretty face for a split second. Minho shakes his hand, taking a step forward to check a few other shower curtains out when the two of you hear a very familiar voice from behind, in the most professional manner ever.

"Sir, the one you chose is perfect. It is very durable and doesn't stain on contact with water—"

"Han Jisung?" Minho turns, the words of shock leaving his mouth almost instantly. You turn impulsively, eyes wide.

"What the fuck are you guys doing here?"

"Hey," you narrow your eyes at the other male. "I could file a report for bad customer service about now, Sungie."

He folds his arms and looks at the two of you suspiciously, "What are you guys doing here?" He raises an eyebrow at you, scoffing at you, "Like you would."

"What does it look like we're doing here, Sungie?" You bite back jokingly and Jisung laughs, gaze shifting between the two of you.

"I don't know," he runs a hand through his hair before folding his arms again, his fluorescent yellow uniform crumbling with the shift in his arms. "Is this some sort of a new way to date?"

"We aren't—" You quickly start when Minho pulls a curtain forward and breaks your sentence before you can complete as he asks Jisung, "This isn't polythene, is it?"

"Are you stupid?" Jisung frowns before he laughs. "That's clearly polythene. Minho, dude, you're a chemical engineering student. You have got to be kidding me if you can't identify polythene."

Minho doesn't pay heed to Jisung's words. You, on the other hand, stare at your best friend who walks away from you to examine more shower curtains. Did Lee Minho really ask Jisung, a literature student, whether that was polythene — What in the world?

"Y/N? Earth to Y/N?" Jisung snaps your attention back to the present. "Are you going to buy shower curtains today?"

"Yeah?"

"But your shower curtains were fine the last time I came home." You understand Jisung's surprise because the last time he did come home was five days back and the shower curtain was in a perfect condition. "What happened?"

You stretch your arms and point at Minho. The very culprit rolls his eyes before raising his eyebrows and sighing, voicing in the most dramatic voice you have ever heard Minho take, "Yes, Y/N. Yes, Ji. It's me. I tore the shower curtain because I fell in the shower."

"Ouch," Jisung acknowledges Minho's injury before walking past the two of you and taking a shower curtain. "Here's one. You might like this, Y/N."

"It's not PVC, Sungie."

Jisung wants to hit your head, terribly. Perhaps it's your adamance that is the reason as to why your friendship is this tight and strong but in moments like these, he likes Minho more. Minho stands by the side, arms folded and back resting against the wall as he trusts your judgement.

"Are you not going to tell her anything?"

"She handles all this at home. Give her what she wants, Ji," he laughs, fiddling with a few more shower curtains by his side. Jisung shakes his head in disappointment before mumbling, a soft frustrated groan leaving his lips as he throws his head back, "Definitely a married couple," and takes a few polyvinyl chloride made shower curtains. 

"Here," he presses his lips. "Don't blame me if the designs aren't that great. You don't get that many good designs in PVC. People go for polythene because it's more available."

"PVC doesn't tear and it's easy to clean!"

"Seconding this as a chemical engineering student," Minho chirps in from behind. You and Jisung turn to look at the man who is on his phone currently and shake your head lightly. "What?"

"He remembers his major now!" Jisung clicks his tongue. "All say, praise the Lord."

"I'm agnostic." You frown.

"More reasons for you to say it easily!"

You find a plain one in the ones he showed you and you take it. Jisung smiles finally, mumbling, "You're a frustrating customer."

"Nah," you scoff. Minho pushes himself off the wall as soon as he sees you done with the selection. "I just know what I want exactly. You, on the other hand, sweetheart," you poke his chest and Jisung chuckles. "You're a pathetic salesperson."

"Of course," he laughs the insult away. "I'm a literature student. I should be working in a publishing company as a part timer."

Minho takes the shower curtain from your hand and puts it in the cart by the side. He comes back, throwing his arm over Jisung's shoulder and frowns, "Apparently publishing companies care a lot more about who your parents are than your resume."

"It's just that publishing company," the other male looks down. "I'll try applying for another one soon."

"Do you want to grab a drink at our place tonight?"

"Can I?"

"Sure," Minho agrees. He drops his arm from Jisung's shoulder and holds the cart handle back, pushing it forward slightly. You take big strides to stand by Minho's side, also holding the handle slightly. Jisung raises his eyebrows at the two of you and with a smile that you don't think twice about, Jisung laughs.

"I'm coming over tonight."

"Sure," you throw your thumbs up at him, stretching your arm. Minho smiles softly at you, his eyes lingering a little longer at your happy figure and he feels his heart beat a little quicker at your sight. Your hair strands framing your face so beautifully, eyes shining the minute you find the exact thing you've had in your mind and your lips curving upwards in joy. 

Lee Minho finds the calmness that spring brings him every year in him all over again with you by his side.

"Bring the soju. Beer is on us!"

Jisung: binnie, binnie!! Changbin: yes, baby? Jisung: i think i have a plan. Changbin: let them be, babe. Jisung: we let them be all these years! they pinned after each other without even knowing and we had to see that painfully! Changbin: i guess you make a valid point there Jisung: is it going to rain today? Changbin: it's been raining for the last few days, sungie. it could. just because i study geography as my minor doesn't mean i can forecast weather. hey! Jisung: fine~ i'm going to get them to confess tonight 👀 Changbin: don't mess up. istg Jisung: trust me 🥺 Changbin: i do. more than ever ❤️

Jisung reaches your doorstep at sharp nine. With two bottles of soju in his hands, you see the stains of the droplets of rain falling onto his shoulder. 

It is drizzling for now and you worry if it is to rain heavily in a few minutes as the forecast mentioned. You hate the thunder. You hate how the weather changes drastically and worsens to a point that it frightens you and makes you anxious. It's a phobia you have managed to hide from everyone for fears of being treated weaker.

Jisung makes himself at home. He always has. He places the soju bottles on the kitchen countertop and Minho smiles to himself as he walks towards the point where Jisung has happily seated himself. Minho and you are on the other end of the counter while Jisung sits on the adjustable chair, swirling in it before stopping and facing you, Minho and the bottles of soju before him.

"Did it finally hit him?"

"I think?" You whisper back.

"I'm right here!" Jisung yells and you smile. Minho pulls the chair from under the counter and sits himself opposite the other male, pressing his lips together and trying to not laugh. He opens the bottle of soju after shaking it and hitting it against his elbow for a while. It clinks open, the metal hitting the glass before falling onto the table and you watch the two, as Minho pours a drink for Jisung.

He downs it in one go, letting out a loud sigh before stretching his arms and demanding a second one.

"Go easy, Sungie. You have the whole night."

"I don't," he huffs. "Now, please."

Minho pours it again before looking at you and you shake your head to indicate that you wouldn't mind a few. You grab hold of one of the empty cups on the counter before stretching your arm too. Minho laughs – a soft chuckle, so airy and light that you find yourself holding your breath for a small second there – and he pours you your drink. 

You twirl your drink, watching the liquid glide against the surface of the cup. Your best friend gets up and walks a little into the kitchen to open the fridge and grab a box of leftovers of fried chicken that you bought a few days ago. He pulls open the microwave to heat it and as he waits, he turns to look back at Jisung and asks him finally.

"Do you want me to drop a word to my uncle?"

"About?"

"He heads the Cheongsam Publication," Minho reveelas, pulling out the chicken from the microwave. He places it before the two of you and almost like you and Jisung were zoomed in, in an American sitcom, both of you gasp dramatically.

"Am I really your best friend?" Jisung yells and you narrow your eyes at Minho. Faking tears in his eyes, he persists in questioning,  "Do I not matter to you, Minho?"

"Why are you rooming with me when you could possibly afford a whole room on your own?"

"Yes, Jisung," Minho sighs and sits back on his chair. You bend forward, arms folded against the table as you stare at your best friend in betrayal. "Also, Y/N, don't you love having me around?"

He laughs and rests his head on your shoulder suddenly, causing you to stiffen them in response. Your eyes drift to the left, trying to not make it overtly obvious that Minho's sudden reaction has taken you by surprise. Your eyes land forward on Jisung who looks at you as if he knew this all along, as if he wanted exactly this. The man has a goddamn smirk plastered on his face.

Jisung downs two more shots and you look at him with a raised eyebrow, mumbling, "Slow the fuck down. No one's chasing you."

"Yeah, my goddamn plan," he mumbles before coughing and taking another. Minho sits up straight, finally lifting his head from your shoulder. He stretches his arm to pat Jisung's shoulder in comfort.

"I'll drop a word."

"Now, don't you dare go and say that you want to earn it and all that bullshit," you sigh. "It's the fucking Republic Of Korea. Nepotism is the norm."

"Not planning on saying that," Jisung glares at you. Clearly, Jisung is slightly tipsy, having been the only person to keep drinking. You and Minho opt to just watch over Jisung for the night. Your best friend puckers his lips in Minho's direction and blowing kisses, he says, "I love you, Minho."

"Changbin wouldn't like you saying that to another man though," you scoff and Jisung flips you the middle finger before downing one more and standing up. The thunder rattles the three of you exactly then and you grip the table, face turning pale instantly. Minho's attention darts to you quickly in concern.

"You okay?" You hum in response, unconvincingly though to Minho whose gaze lingers on you in worry for just a while more. That is, till Jisung rips it away by dramatically placing the back of his hand on his forehead and playing the damsel in distress as he gasps so loudly, staring at the big window.

"It's raining heavily," he sighs and you shudder, afraid of another thunderstorm as you grip tightly on the side of the table.

"So?" Minho asks, both eyebrows raised at the man before him, looking at the two of you with doe eyes.

"I'm staying over, thanks," he rushes and runs to your bedroom, quickly shutting the door and latching it and you and Minho stare at each other. As soon as the realisation of what could happen dawns over you, you rush to your closed bedroom, fists banging against the wooden door.

"Yah, Han Jisung," you turn to look at Minho who watches you in amusement. "Open the fucking door."

"No. I don't want to go back home in the rain. You and Minho can share the bed. I am never opening the door. Good night."

"What the fuck? Yah, Sungie, stop acting like a child. Open the door now." You hear no response. "Sungie? Answer me. Open the door please." Minho walks over to you, and tries knocking too, in vain however because Jisung has no plans to open the door.

You look at Minho, the man slightly towering you as he stands by your side and you gasp. You had to share the bed with the same man you just realised you could, perhaps, have developed feelings for?

"Fuck."

Jisung: it finally seems to be working, binnie! luck's on my side this time. Changbin: oh baby. just please don't be disappointed if it doesn't work out this time either. Jisung: i won't be because it's definitely going to work out. eeeee! i'm so excited! 

Another thunderstorm ripples through the air.

Your heart beats quicker in anxiety, eyes squeezing shut as you grip tightly on the pillow, a light whimper leaving your lips. You feel the mattress shuffling underneath you and in the next minute, your ears are covered by Minho's hands. You stiffen as he edges closer to you, his chin resting on your shoulder as his palm pressed against your pinna, covering your ear completely to protect you from the loud sounds of the thunder.

"Minho, what—"

His hand on your right ear slightly shifts to the side as he bends forward to whisper into your ear, to amplify the sounds enough as a way to distract you.

"You never ever told me you were scared of thunderstorms."

Lee Minho is way too close to you to think straight. You feel his body pressed against your back, heat radiating from him to you through your oversized hoodie. His breath is harsh against your skin as he leans close to whisper into your ear. And all this in an attempt to forget the thunderstorm.

So far, it's working like magic. 

Your voice is almost small when you inform him, "We never happened to be in the same place during one," and Minho swears to God, he could lose it completely. All the self control to not confess and take you there is so ready to be shoved out of the window that all he can do is try and focus on worrying about your fears.

"I'll protect you," he mumbles so softly that you turn around to look at him. His eyes are bright in the soft lights in his room and as he lies by your side, so close that you can hear his heart that beats faster and his breath that is shallow, your lips part and you watch him.

You are fully justified for falling in love with this man. 

A man that tells you he'd protect you from your fears, god alone knows how, but the fact that they don't seem like empty words. A man that you know like the back of your hand and the same man that seems to have protected you all throughout your life, even if you have done the same. It was inevitable. Falling for Lee Minho is inevitable.

And that's why you kiss him. Because you're in love with him so badly that all you can zero in is him, him, him.

Your lips press against his, so softly for a split second. As if you are unsure. As if you know you could be ruining years of friendship over something the two of you could consider a mistake. 

You kiss him and suddenly it's the only thing that matters to you right now. Him, him, him. Your lips are slow and soft against him. It is almost as if you are reminding yourself that there has been nothing more morbidly right than this. To fall in love with your best friend. Minho's hand slowly lifts up to rest below your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek as your breath mingles only for a split second — one filled with hesitance and uncertainty — before you pull away, looking at your best friend.

It is just a second of a kiss and with Minho so stiff by your side, you panic, and ramble. "I'm sorry. I should have thought it could be unrequited. I like you and I should have asked—”

Minho crashes his lips on yours, so quickly that it takes your breath away and cuts your sentence in half, but you don't care. He pulls you towards him, hands cupping your face tightly and angling it to kiss you, encasing your lower lips in his as he moves against your pink ones. You let out a small gasp as you deepen the kiss, running your fingers down his spine, holding him as close as possible until there is no space left between the two of you. It is just you and him in this small room. Just you and him in focus. You can feel the beating of his heart against your chest. Loud, clear and unknown to you that it beats for you in this minute. That it has always been beating for you.

Minho presses his tongue to the seam of your lips and, the minute you let him in, he delves inside your mouth, tongue chasing after yours. Minho kisses you like he has finally achieved the greatest thing ever and he never wants to let it go. Minho kisses like he loves you and you feel it. You feel every ounce of it.

Your arms move up his back and tangle around his thick, strong neck. Playing with the ends of his roots, you suck on his lower lips before he pulls away and finally tells you, "I've always been in love with you, Y/N. Always."

Kissing you again, his thumb digs into the skin by your jaw as he delves deeper, as if he never wants to let you go. The air in the room heats up when your hand moves under his shirt, feeling his muscles under your skin and you moan against his lips. Minho lets go of your lips only to kiss the side of it and then your cheeks and then your jugular before he is littering kisses all over your neck. You moan explicitly, gripping on him and slightly grinding on his thigh. You feel your core heating up, arousal sticking to your panties and all you can think is,

“I want you.”

Minho swears to God that he has always loved confident women but when you shattered right before him and built your confidence right back up — that is the hottest thing he swears he has seen. That, and the fact that you had always been hot before his eyes.

“Really?” Minho lifts himself up and hovers on top of you.

“Really,” you decide to respond before you cup his face and pull his face closer to yours. You don't pull him in for a kiss just yet. Your eyes zero on him, trying to cancel out the loud thunderstorms in the background and just focus on the man before you that you love, that you've been in love unknowingly for a while. 

You just hold his face and learn. You try to remember every single detail of his face that you never focussed on before.

You realise over again that his eyes are your favourite thing. They are black as charcoal and yet still shimmer as if stars are trapped and enclosed beneath them. And when he narrows them to look at you with a daze, your heart throbs and you gulp. They make your heart hurt whenever they fix on you.

You know his skin is soft as you touch. As creamy and velvety as they are, you can't stop touching him. 

His mouth is a pretty shade of coral, plump and pouty and honestly so kissable it hurts to look at it for more than a few seconds. You wonder how you haven't driven yourself to kiss him yet. All these years.

Everything about his face is soft and delicate, that is till he turns a little to the side and angles it perfectly, his head backward and you can clearly see the sharpness of his jawline; the distinct manly cut that makes your mouth dry and your heart beat faster. 

“You are perfect,” you gulp, your eyes back on him and Minho smiles widely. His warm breath caresses your face and his forehead is pressed against yours immediately.

“You know what else is perfect, baby?”

“No,” your voice is airy, even though you already know what he is going to say. You know it and yet the thought causes your heart to skip a bit, and flutter a lot in your chest.

“You and everything you have to offer. You are not average. You are one of the most perfect women I've seen in my whole life, Y/N,” he says. As soon as the words spill from his mouth, your lips are on his, claiming his mouth, the same ones that whispered into your ear that there is nothing to be afraid when he's right there by your side.

He gasps loudly as your hands leave his face and move to his hair to pull him down towards you — you need him so close to you. Your fingers get lost in his thick locks as you tug on them, forcing him to bend a lot forward and gladly welcome the intrusion of your tongue.

His lips are as soft as feathers and they feel like what you think heaven feels like. The warmth you experience is so much more than the tingle of first kisses and those innocent butterflies have nothing on the wanting void of a pit in your nether regions and the slick in between your thighs. 

His hands slide down from your hips to reach behind your back and pull you upwards, only to tightly clasp around the curve of your bottom cheeks.

“Minho,” you groan against his lips after he pulls away from you. His lips are red and swollen, slick and shining with your saliva and so incredibly inviting you all over again and you fear that you may never want to stop kissing him for as long as you are breathing. You fear getting too addicted to this human – more than you already are – to a point where you need to be attached to him by the hip, to never let go of him.

Minho's lips move from your swollen lips to the curve of your jaw, down to the curved edges of your neck, sucking and kissing every exposed skin. 

His hand moves from your clothed arse to under your hoodie, hand pressed against your back as he pulls you closer and forwards, until your chests are pressed against one another. His mouth is everywhere and god, you feel infinite and powerful.

His lips hover on yours. He smiles widely and you think it's cute. He inches his chin forward, flicking your nose a little with his own, a shy smile on his lips as he silently asks the permission to claim your lips anew; all over again.

You nod your head to signal yes. You hold your breath and your eyes flutter shut, awaiting him and his warmth.

Minho's kiss is slow and delicate at first. It is drawn out in a way that makes you want more, so much more, that you want to pull him in and suck the life out of him and yet, at the same time, it is precious and laced with not only the passion of the moment but also the tenderness of a first time together.

It makes your insides twitch and your heart lunge and it fogs up all of your thoughts to the point you feel yourself drowning in the sensation of his lips, pressed tightly on your own. 

Your heart is beating quicker than ever in your chest, against your ribs, and you pull him even closer, so tight your chests have no choice but to heave against each other with every single breath you take. You don’t want to let him go, not now, not tomorrow, not ever.

Minho is something you desperately want to hold onto in your life. He knows your secrets, your everything. He knows what you like and how you like it. He seems to know everything and the thought of letting him go aches your heart and constraints your throat with a sob you wouldn't dare to let out. You want him to be completely yours.

And these thoughts turn you desperate. They force you to make the kiss deeper, to lick his lips and bite them down, to gulp down every sigh and whimper that comes out of him and make them your own. To make him yours.

Your eyes flutter shut, taking in the way his mouth moves over yours, arching further into him. You groan into his mouth and his grip on your back tightens instantly.

“I want you so much, Minho,” you whimper against him after your lips part from his. You lick your lips and gaze at him with your partially closed eyes. “So fucking much.”

“Then, have me. Take me,” Minho purrs against your exposed skin. In a minute, he pulls the oversized hoodie over you, leaving you in just your undergarments as he discards it to the side. His mouth moves over the skin above your breasts and his hand traces the bra you are wearing. He gazes at it and mumbles before latching his mouth back on your skin, “You are so fucking beautiful. Always have been.”

You gleam in pride and your body arches at the contact of his mouth on your skin. Your hands are on the side of his face as you pull him away.

“Can I?”

“Have me? Yes. Completely,” he smiles. He wonders if you are confident. That's all that he hopes when you look at him so unsure and so doubtingly. 

You wet your lips again quickly, your breath coming out in hot puffs of air. Your hands immediately rush to his top, roughly pushing it above. Minho helps you out and pulls it completely away. You are blinded by the passion burning inside of you, your hands eager to explore and touch every expanse of his glowing skin. You want to touch, feel, have a complete experience. You want Minho to remind you of everything you are missing out on.

Your lips attack his neck in a hurry, all rough and passionate on his tender, soft skin, blooming red roses that turn purple against it. You repeat your actions till he’s softly moaning out your name, almost purring them out that you feel yourself becoming slicker. His hands on your back pull you closer and into him so that you won’t stop tainting his flesh and slowly, his soul, in the best ways possible.

Minho whines and sighs and grunts for you. He doesn't hold himself back as his lips leave appreciation for who you are. He closes his eyes as he parts his lips to whimper out your name with every new thing you find that excites him and it drives you absolutely insane. 

You know you should not but you can’t stop wondering how he would sound like as you fuck him hard, rock on his cock to milk his orgasm, make him beg not to stop. You desperately want to break him and draw all these nice sounds out of him, but you know it would most probably be the other way round. Minho allows you to take control occasionally but you know he wants the lead. He wants to be the one to break you apart and pull you back together. 

He pulls back from you, his hands leaving your back and resting on either of your sides. Minho's dark hair brushes over his crescent lidded eyes and nearly shields the hungry, desperate gaze of them. His hand plays with the strap of your panties as his gaze flickers between affection and lust. He cocks his head to the side before asking, “You do want this, right?”

You nod, hoping it would be enough and that he would resume.

“I need to hear you say it out loud, baby,” he firmly says and you gulp.

“Yes, yes. Minho, fuck, I want this. I need this,” you whine, your eyes glassy, as you grip his forearm to lift yourself up and grate and move against the evident bulge on his jeans. 

Minho merely needs that verbal confirmation. He pulls away your panties, resting on your hips and you groan. Still hovering above you and his hands over your pubic mound, his fingers trail lower and you tug at your lower lip in anticipation. Easily, he finds your clit, and begins to rub in slow, languid, lazy motion, up and down, waiting for the moan he so loves to hear from you to spill from your mouth. He grins when he hears those little whimpers and you feel your legs lose mobility from the pleasure he brings you with just a flick of his finger. 

Your back slightly arches off the soft mattress upon the bed when his finger leaves your clit to draw a line up your wet slit, collecting as much of your arousal as he can before slipping his glistening fingers out to admire them in the light. Your cheeks taint pink in embarrassment.

“Fuck,” Minho moans, taking his coated finger into his mouth to suck your juices from it. His eyes flutter shut as if he’s tasting the sweetest aphrodisiac ever known and your lips part at this sight. Lee Minho looks irresistible and you want him, completely.

“God,” he groans. Minho slides himself down your body until he’s in level with your pussy. His eyes gazed at it in sheer adoration and your hand slapped against your mouth. He takes two fingers to spread your lips apart for a better view. “You’re dripping, baby girl.”

You wail as he drags a finger up and down your slit, playfully teasing your fold, making you whine his name out loud. The way you plead for him, beg for him, grind down on his teasing fingers, all set a fire inside you. This has been what you had been craving for so long. The ability of this man to cloud your thoughts and set your body on fire makes you yearn for him even more.

“Minho,” you cry out, whimpering underneath him. “Fingers. I need you. Please, Minho.”

You gasp, your voice airy, when the tip of his finger tentatively slips into you while your fingers dig at his shoulders between your thighs. “Minho, I want you. I just really want you. I need to feel you. Please.”

He drags his finger out of you before you clutch onto him, feeling the need to be overwhelmed. He presses his thumb on your clit and a whimper leaves your mouth. 

“Minho.” And he slides his digit in again almost as if on cue. He pumps his finger in and out of you as his thumb harshly rubs circles on your clit. Your hand leaves your mouth and grabs your hair as the other digs further into his shoulder. 

His mouth leaves hot air against the skin covering your acetabulum and you shudder. His lips graze from there till your thigh before biting on them, sucking them deliriously and leaving you as a whimpering mess.

“Minho, fuck!” You scream, your fingers grabbing your hair to hold control of your body. 

“That's it, baby,” he says against the skin of your thighs. “How I've wanted those beautiful lips to scream out my name from when I've felt them.”

Minho adds another finger and your eyes are screwed shut as he curls them within you and you gasp at the feeling of being widened. You are elated and you feel your arousal leaking down your thighs. He rubs your inside and your clitoris faster and you push your hips towards him, moving with his pace. Minho is also leaving beautiful purple marks in a trail on your thigh and you gape in awe.

You find it all too much. Your emotions are all over the place and your hormones rise up. The movement of his fingers inside you and around your clit, his lips attacking your erogenous spots, kissing, biting and licking short stripes on them. It finally gets to you and you scream his name out in pleasure. Your first orgasm comes crashing down upon you, blinding you. You release all over his fingers and Minho helps you ride out your high as he drags his finger repeatedly but this time, slower than what had been. 

Your head lifts up and hits the pillow slightly as it tilts away. Minho moves upwards, hovering over your face and smiles. You smile back. You are so happy and you do not know how to put it into words.

“Minho?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks?”

“For what?” He looks at you quizzically. 

“That was my first orgasm in months now that wasn't brought about by my own fingers,” you smile wearily and Minho leans forwards and kisses your forehead.

"Should have come to me," he laughs.

"Didn't know if I'd be ruining our friendship."

"Pfft," he scoffs, before kissing you again, his lips gliding against yours and piecing in as if they were always meant to be against yours. "I've been in love with you forever."

"Took me a while to know my own feelings," you mumbles. “Also,” you continue, hoping he listens to your request. “Can I . . . ride you?”

Minho is stunned. There are so many things about you that stuns him and maybe it's the way you try to take control that make you look so much hotter before his eyes. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you plead. “If that is not a bother to you.”

“Why would it? Your wish is my command, but only for this night. Next time, my love, we do this my way,” he teases and winks and your core throbs at his words.

Minho pulls himself away from your body, pulling his shirt over his head and his denim down and away. As he flings his clothes aside and relaxes against the mattress, his cock springs free against his stomach, leaking with milky precum. You sit up beside the space Minho has taken over and watch him and his cock deliriously and lustfully.

You sit up, crawling over to straddle his lap, nervousness setting into your stomach. You’re really doing this. You gulp and swallow the saliva as you look at Minho, whose gaze gives you comfort and confidence. The muscles in your arm stiffens as you grip his shoulder for stability and Minho notices.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you, sensing your reluctance and worry. He pushes back the stray hair falling over your eyes. “You're doing wonderful, babygirl. You are finally all mine. What a pretty girl and all to myself now."

You nod, biting down on your lower lip, and tugging at it harshly, cheeks heating up at his words, arousal gushing out as you look down before aligning with his cock. You want this. You needed this release.

As your folds, dripping with thick, sticky arousal, brush the tip of his hardened cock, you feel a shudder run down your spine. You instinctively allow yourself to lower further, taking the rest of him in you swiftly with the help of your arousal. Sinking down around his dick and feeling him fully wrapped around your clutching walls has you moaning out his name, gasping and panting for air, “Fuck, Minho.”

You rock your hips into him, trying this as you picture it to be, already finding yourself tightening and clenching around his thick length. He fills you up so nicely, stuffing you perfectly full and you salivate. Your lips parts and you find your hips moving on their own accord.

As much as Minho wants to give you complete power over this, it isn't like him and he wishes he could be better. Minho takes your hips in his hands, taking control of your movements to raise you up, leaving you empty and whining. You clench around nothing but air and your own walls, desperate to sink back down. “Minho,” you whine, your lower lip puckers forwards and you feel sad.

As his hand grip around your hips to get a better hold, he slams you back down on his cock, hard, causing you to scream. “Minho, ah!”

He continuously guides you in a rhythmic movement, throwing his head back into his pillows and groaning. You are glad he is helping you out because you know you could not have done it on your own after having just ridden out your high.

The sheen of sweat glistening on his chest catches your eye as he pants. The way his eyes clenched shut and his mouth hangs open with pleasure only makes you move faster around his cock. The sight before you makes you want to see him fucked out further. You want him to crumble under you because of you. 

You ride him, bouncing on his dick and clenching when you feel yourself reaching your climax for the second time that night. Minho’s finger moves down and slips between your sweat soaked bodies to rub your clit, pushing you even further over the edge. Minho knows how to make a woman putty in his hands and you are a living witness of this.

“Are you going to come?” He asks, breathlessly, his voice airy and light, almost floating away. He pulls his head forward to kiss your collarbones, sucking harsh bruises against your skin, continuing further down the existing purple bruises.

“Y-Yes,” you sigh, lacing your fingers through his hair and tugging on the dark strands. “Mhm, fuck, you feel so good, Minho.” You lean forward and the motion causes Minho to whine. You quickly catch it as your lips fall on his. His lips enclose yours and he kisses you slowly and passionately as you move on his cock, lazily.

Words, unfiltered and raw, spill out from your mouth after your lips leave his as you feel the high that is creeping up slowly within you. “Minho, fuck. Oh fuck, you feel so good.”

“Then, come.”

Minho moans against your neck as he feels you, his finger rubbing your clit, “Babygirl, oh fuck. Come all over my cock.”

Minho’s other hand that is not occupied leaves your hip and moves upwards to find their place on your neck. His fingers gently wrap themselves around your neck and his eyes flicker a mischief that makes you wetter than you already are. He presses his fingers against your neck with pressure and you choke. Your mouth opens wide and your tongue falls out slightly resting on your lower lip. Your eyes roll back and your walls clench around Minho’s cock tightly.

Minho learns that your dirty liking for choking is incredibly hot. Seeing you like this is what he knows would get him to come when you are not around. Your fucked out expression as you gasp for air makes Minho plunge into you harder and you choke harder.

A final flick of his finger over your sensitive button and a bit more pressure over your neck are all it takes for your body to flood with pleasure and ecstasy. Your legs tighten around Minho's waist, curling in as you ride out your high for as long as possible, still moving your hips against him. His fingers let go of your neck and you breath loudly, taking in huge gulps of air.

Not long after your undoing, he comes inside you, coating your walls with his seed as you feel his length pulsate within you.

Once your body falls limp against his chest, equally fucked out and panting for air, you feel him going soft inside you. He lifts you up, slowly slipping out of you and gently laying you by his side. His fingers rub small circles on your hips after pulling you closer into him. 

“Hey,” you say and smile. 

Minho kisses your forehead and then, the peak of your nose, and finally, kisses your lips, softly. It isn't lustful or anything. Just plain passion seeping from him to you. You feel his admiration and an emotion you fear to mistake for love. He pulls away and smiles, “Hey, beautiful.”

He comes closer and licks the side of your neck, where he had wrapped his fingers out. The one fantasy that you are so in love with. He peppers soft kisses around it and mumbles an apology. 

“No,” you quickly stop him. “That was everything. I— I really like you." Pausing, the thought crashes your head, post your high and you mumble, "Fuck, I fell in love with my best friend." 

You nuzzle into his chest after he pulls back, your arms wrapping around his body as you calm yourself. Minho chuckles into your ear, "Yes, yes. You clearly did. What do we do now?"

"Take responsibility." You mumble as you slowly find yourself feeling sleepy. Your eyes are slowly drooping and your voice lowers in tone, words drifting away almost, “You better take responsibility for my feelings and take care of me.”

“It'd truly be my honour,” Minho mumbles, lifting you slowly to push his one arm beneath your neck. He uses the other hand to push your hair away from your face. Kissing your forehead, lips lingering for a while, he smiles to himself, laughing slightly as he asks you, "Was the schlong good?”

You laugh softly, snuggling into his chest, fist against it as you try to fall asleep, thunderstorms long forgotten. Kissing his chest, you giggle, "Best ever schlong I have ever had, baby. All mine to keep now."

Jisung: can you pick me up? Changbin: this late? Jisung: i just wanted them to confess. not fuck like bunnies. useless fact i learnt today: they are both loud in bed. Changbin: i'm laughing off the bed literally!!! also!!! Jisung: yeah? Changbin: and they were roommates! Jisung: god, they were roommates. 🙄❤️

[eijishimas]

caught red handed.

18+ nsfw content. minors dni. all characters are aged up.

masterlist.

content warnings: f!reader, college!au, masturbation, mentions of alcohol, voyeurism, daddy kink, bit of a handjob, bit of oral (m!receiving), filming, slight degradation, creampie, one (1) instance of bakugou slapping your pussy.

notes: happy belated birthday to my bestie, @rekiri . you deserve the world and so much more, you’re sweet and hilarious and i fucking love talking to you, whether we’re joking or being more serious. i know you told me not to, but i really wanted to write something for you as a gift (because ya girl is a bit of a broke bitch). ik it’s not eren, kiri, or reki, but i hope you like this piece regardless. i love you, even if you annoy me to death, you whore /j. this one’s for you <3

wc: 2.6k | inspo (nsfw link): xxx

Everyone knew college was stressful. Deadlines nearly every single week, assignments and essays, not to mention attending classes brought a whole new wave of anxieties for students every single day. Sometimes that stress was either doubled or relieved by having a partner for a project or two. Luckily for you, you and your old high school classmate Katsuki Bakugou were paired up for a project for one of your Quirk Law classes. It was a research project, one that required a forty slide presentation. You were headed on your way to Katsuki’s dorm today to work on it at the time you agreed upon: 5pm. Then you two would study together for upcoming midterms. It was all planned out down to a tee. So at around 3:50pm, Katsuki knew he had time. He figured he needed a break from his Rescue Tactics Indoors II class, otherwise his brain would begin oozing from his ears.

Pushing aside his overpriced textbook, he rolled his shoulders back, hearing the cracks of his stiff muscles while he stretched at his desk. He let out a sigh, propping his chin up on the palm of his hand as he scrolled mindlessly through his socials. Mina had posted a Throwback Thursday post, an old one of him and you back in your freshman year of college. His nose twitched in annoyance as he recalled the parties, more specifically Denki Kaminari’s birthday party, where he had gotten so drunk that the walls melted and bent before him. Katsuki’s expression changed however, as he swiped through the collection of photos to stumble across an image of you and him. Have you always worn dresses that tight? You practically had your ass out from how short your garment had been cut, tits threatening to spill out of your low hanging neckline. Not only that, but Katsuki had an arm slung around your shoulder. His smile was stretched wide due in part to the alcohol in his system, but also because you were standing next to him. You were laughing at something Mina had said behind the camera, your hand tossed against the slightly unbuttoned shirt Katsuki had worn that night. Your fingers had brushed against his toned chest and he scoffed at the thought. Slowly but surely, memories of that party flooded back to Katsuki in waves.

They were mostly recounts from Kirishima and Mina, but apparently you two had made out in front of everyone that night. He swiped left again, swallowing dryly as he saw just that. Your manicured fingers were wrapped tight around his party shirt, tongues in a deadly dance of want and desperation for each other. Katsuki’s eyes grew as he noticed that the photo hadn’t cut out the part where he had been kneading your ass through that skimpy dress of yours. Immediately, Katsuki went to Mina’s dms demanding to take down the photo. And she did, thank god, but not without sending Katsuki more than ten photos of you and him making out at the party. He clenched his jaw, anger and a low desire plaguing his conscience. Glancing to the top left corner of his phone, he noted the time. 4:10pm.

He had time.

Saving the photos to his gallery, he pushed his chair away from his desk to have some fucking breathing room. His eyes flitted down to his sweats and as he expected, there was a tent forming. He groaned, wiping the sweat from his palms off on his pant leg before languidly beginning to palm himself through his clothes. His breaths quickened, chest stuttering as he looked to his phone displaying the photos of you and him. There’s a faint recollection in the back of his head of how you taste. Like cherries from your glossy lips, like vodka from the shots you took off of Denki earlier that evening, how you moaned into his mouth the night you had drunkenly kissed.

Katsuki tugged the waistband of his sweats down, allowing his previously constrained cock to breathe. It slapped against his stomach, heavy and leaking. Shit, he didn’t remember being this horny at the beginning of this. Spitting into his palm, he lubed up his dick as best as he could on short notice. His eyelids drooped as he swiped through the pictures like a filmstrip, a montage of all the best moments he had with you at that party. You grinding on his lap, you whispering dirty ideas you wanted to do with him later, you, you, you…

Katsuki squeezed his aching shaft, fisting his cock as precum dribbled down his slippery head. His face was an uncanny shade of crimson, a testament to how horny he was all for a few old pictures of the two of you. “Y/n.” He swore he barely recognized his voice from how breathless and needy it was. He continued to pump his cock, the only thoughts replaying in his mind were perverted fantasies of you bouncing on his dick hard enough to hear the slap of your ass cheeks against his abs.

Tapping the screen of his phone twice to zoom in, he admired your curves with pursed lips. Fuck, you really were gorgeous. Everything about you radiated a sinful nature he could never put his tongue on. You were tempting him, licking flames up his body with such intensity that made him shiver. He cursed, thumb drifting over his slit as he hissed. Fuck you for being as ravishing as you were that night, fuck you for making him feel so goddamn needy for your-

“Bakugou, I was about to text you but I remembered you were studying today, so I figured it would be okay if I came a bit...” your words trailed off. You blinked rapidly in an attempt to process the scene unfolding before you. Katsuki Bakugou, holding his dick in his hand, face on fire with a deep blush, his other free hand secure around his phone with- was that a picture of you from your freshman year of college? There was a beat of silence, Katsuki’s uneven breathing the only sound in the room aside from the low drawl of the ceiling fan over both of your heads. You gaped at him, tongue darting out to wet your lips upon realizing his hand hadn’t stopped moving. If anything, you saw his hand flex around his cock, further tightening his grip as you stood right in front of him.

“What the fuck-”

“What?” he beat you to the punch, his lips twitching into a devilish smile, “Don’t like what you see?” His confidence knocked the air out of you, your bewildered attitude showing true on your features. Your body feels warm, searing beneath his gaze. “Excuse me?” you squeaked out, overcome with both curiosity and a hint of lust for the ash blond.

“Are you gonna fucking help me or not?” His pride was refusing him to be flustered, not when he was this feverish for you. He needed the upper hand, he needed control over this situation. And it seemed by how you were shifting your weight from side to side, that it was happening just as he wanted. Who were you to refuse such an offer from Katsuki Bakugou?

And that’s how you ended up here, nestled between thick, muscled thighs with your hand wrapped around his throbbing cock. He had you spit over his dick, his entire shaft gleaming in all its glory as it stood to attention in your grasp. The flash of his camera burned your eyes as you suckled on his crown, hand continuously jerking his cock while he ravenously watched you through the screen. The guttural groan that escaped him was nothing short of music to your ears, your thighs tensing as the coils of heat continued to build and knot between your legs.

“Mm. Keep going like that, take it. All the way in now, like a good little slut,” Katsuki instructed, his voice slicing through the heavy atmosphere of desire. The words make you whimper, enveloping his sensitive head in vibrations while you lick around his slit. A large hand cupped your face, forcing you to make eye contact with the ash blond behind the camera. His black tank top truly had no confines over him, since it was tight enough to see the outlines of his pecs and ripped torso. Katsuki sure worked hard to maintain his appearance, but you knew he had the strength to back those muscles up. The thought of him completely dominating you, holding you with strong arms and pinning you down with his body made your pussy even more wet with your slick than it already was. Even from how you were on your knees, Katsuki possessed an unspoken will over you. You wanted to please him, make him feel good, make him have no good reason not to give you everything he had to offer.

You took your lips off of his head with a little ‘pop’, eyes wide and expectant as a string of drool connected your bottom lip to the tip of his cock. Bakugou’s smile grew, making sure your face was completely in frame and in focus. “Dirty girl,” he hummed, thumb tracing the apple of your cheek before guiding your lips toward his twitching cock. You slowly kissed the vein on the side of it, mumbling out four words:

“Your dirty girl, daddy.”

The moment the words left your mouth, Katsuki let out a low, gravelly moan. It was as if a switch inside him had flipped. Without warning, he’s pulling you off the floor and sitting you down in his desk chair instead. He’s a bit rough, his vision clouded by the sheer want to fuck you until you were screaming his name, until his name was the only word your pretty little brain could recall. He abandoned his phone and instead had his hands drop to the armrests of his desk chair, encasing your body as he towered over you. Your skirt was immediately shucked up your waist and Katsuki’s hands went to work on your panties. He ripped them off completely, tossing them aside without a care as to where they went. He gazed down at you with fervour, licking his lips at the sight of your dripping cunt.

“Who’s pussy is this?” he coaxes with a grin, teeth shining. His hand slipped between your thighs, his index and middle finger tracing up and down your slit. Goosebumps erupted across your skin, your thighs instinctively closing around his hand. Your face bloomed with warmth, eyes darting away from his cocky demeanour, “Baku—”

Your body jolted as a firm smack was delivered to your sensitive pussy, a wet, lewd sound meeting your ears as he did. It made a high pitched, whiny moan be pulled out from your throat.

Fuck.

“Try again,” he ordered, tone demanding and almost condescending. His lips ghosted yours yet he never had any intention of moving close enough to seal the gap between the two of you. You whimpered, eyes meeting the dark red irises that were staring straight through you.

“‘S yours, daddy.”

“Now that’s a good fuckin’ girl.”

His lips found yours, teeth tugging at your bottom lip hard enough to make the warmth in your stomach double. The liquid heat had been building ever since you walked in, and you were fairly certain that you weren’t going to last much longer.

He hooked your knees over his elbows, biceps flexing as the muscles in his arms supported your full weight. He picked you up with such ease, your arms flying around his neck as you squeal, gasping at how little effort that took him. He was a pro-hero in training, of course he had practiced lifting people up no matter their body type or size. Either way, it didn’t matter to him. He thought you looked rather angelic clinging onto him regardless. He wasn’t even breaking a sweat with his hands spreading your cheeks, grunting as he adjusted you in his arms. He slid slowly into your slick cunt inch by suffocating inch, your walls fluttering and enclosing around his throbbing cock. Katsuki’s breathing was unsteady, eyes watching your expression intently in hopes that this new position would give you as much pleasure as it was giving him. His ego was running rapant from how you were holding onto him for dear life. You were practically shaking in his grasp, mouth open in an ‘o’ shape as all you could do was gape at how deep he reaches within you. You were keening, eyes hazed with lust and nails digging crescents into his shoulder blades hard enough to make him hiss.

When you finally catch your breath and adjust to his size, you give him a curt nod as an indication for him to start moving. Slowly, he lifted you up off his cock until his head kissed your entrance before allowing gravity to do most of the work. This position had his cock nudging your cervix and it made the knot in the pit of your stomach squeeze further, threatening to snap with every loud smack of his balls echoing through his dorm room. He pistoned into you like that, reaching deeper to rearrange your insides. It was like your entire body was being engulfed with pleasure and fire. He took in your face, how it scrunched in pleasure, hair sticking to your face as you mumble out how much you want to cum, how much you need to cum.

“Fuckin’ tight just for daddy, hah?” he cooed to you, “You wanna cum all over my cock like a little slut? You were watching me from the door jerking off for you. Dirty fuckin’ girl. Who’s making you feel good? Say it. Spit it out.”

“You!” you moaned, your head feeling light from the way the veins on the side of his cock rubbed your walls, “You, daddy. Please let me cum. I w- wanna cum!”

“I can’t hear you,” Katsuki rumbled, eyes steeled before you unmoving and unwilling to give you permission just yet. “Please!” you begged, “I’m a dirty girl. I’m your dirty girl, daddy! Please let me cum!” You were too engrossed in your pleasure to have any semblance of shame. Katsuki grinned. That’s what he wanted to hear. He let out a tiny ‘tch’ before uttering out, “Then cum, slut.”

Without another word, you let out a final wanton moan, gushing around him as the liquid heat finally expels from your body. Your orgasm hits you in waves, your body quivering with each new sensation as you hold Katsuki’s cock within your cunt. Your nails leave angry red marks along Katsuki’s shoulders, ultimately sending him hurtling towards his own release.

Cum dripped down his twitching cock, your chest heaving as your legs feel like jelly. Tingles shot down your spine as Katsuki pumped rope after rope of his sticky cum well enough to paint your inner walls white. He helped you ride out your high, delivering harsh bitemarks to your neck to leave a mural of hickeys claiming you as his. The smile he gives you is cocky, prideful, and arrogant. He placed you back down on his desk chair, your thighs still going through the aftershocks of your high. Reaching for his phone, he tapped the app icon for his camera. He knelt down, chuckling as your fingers slid between your legs to spread your lower lips for him. His cum seeped out past your slit, leaking down to your puckered asshole.

“There we go. Aren’t you daddy’s good girl, hm?”

Tiredly, you nodded.

“‘M daddy’s good girl.”

all works © eijishimas 2021. do not reuse, modify, or repost.

tags:

@lonleyweeb77 @cynthus-no @lonelyheart-cluband @smhhyung @stoopidnekobish @kiridarling @kirislilrock @baku-deku1 @hajisuu @damnitcrowley @foruthemoon @peaxhcringe @justanotheruselessextra @izukuuarchive @katsuki-kitten @shokoarashi sorry i couldn’t tag all of you!

want to be on the taglist? see here.

[helliontherapscallion]

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Monday

Tuesday     Wednesday     Thursday (Part 1)     Thursday (Part 2)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Pairing: SBI x sister!reader (she/her pronouns)

Warnings: swearing, toxic friends, panic spirals/attacks, injury, taking pills for pain

Summary: you have a very bad week, how will you manage? (Characters are fully human, but based on their DSMP characters. High school AU)

Word count: 4,818

(A/N): I’ve never played volleyball or watched Haikyuu before, so I’m not 100% certain how games work. Also, I probs should’ve split this into two parts, but eh.

“(Y/n) love, you look homeless in that sweater, it’s literally so fucking ugly.”

“Haha, yeah it is. I guess I just wasn’t really trying today.”

Adrian snorted, scanning your body with his cold eyes. “Today? You don’t try at all. You always look like trash.”

“More than trash, you always look like you just rolled in dog shit.” Sammy threw her head back and cackled at her own joke.

Your friends around you erupted in laughter as you four walked down the hallways of the hell that was your public high school. You awkwardly chuckled alongside them, you didn’t really find it funny, but you didn’t want to draw more attention towards yourself. 

“Seriously, (y/n), I really don’t know why we still hang out around you anymore. You really let yourself go.”

“Yeah, now that I think about it, you did gain like five pounds in the past week.”

“Really not a good look on you, love. Then again, nothing you do can make you look good anymore.”

You tried to not let their comments get to you, you really did, but sometimes their comments just rooted themselves deep into your subconscious. You didn’t try looking good anymore, you couldn’t wear anything without them criticising it. You could never win. 

“Awe,” Adrien poked your cheeks, “stop looking so sad. We’re just trying to give you advice. You really need it.”

“Yeah, (y/n). You’re so sensitive, get a grip.”

“Guys look, I think she’s gonna cry!” 

You wiped at your welling eyes with the sleeves of your sweater. “I’m not. I just got allergies.”

Annie rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. Anyways, what are our plans for Halloween? We should totally dress up like sexy angels! I think that’d be so cool. Like, Clint’s party won’t be ready for us.”

“Oh, about that Annie…”

“God, what now (y/n)?”

“I was actually planning on spending Halloween night taking Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating with my brothers and dad. I won’t be able to go with you guys, I’m sorry.”

The group groaned loudly. “C’mon (y/n), you never hang out with us anymore.”

“Oh my god (y/n) you still go trick-or-treating? We’re juniors.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy with my AP classes and studying for the SAT. My team captain’s really been pushing the team hard with volleyball practice. State finals are soon and we want first this year.”

“No matter how much studying you do, you’re gonna fail. You’re stupid, so why try? Just give up and hang out with uuussss.”

“Yeah (y/n),” Adrien looked at you suspiciously, “you’ve been ignoring us lately. I thought we were friends. Do you even wanna be friends anymore?”

You felt a flare of panic flare up in your gut. “I do! I-I just have so much going on right now. It’s starting to get hard to juggle everything.”

“We’re starting to think that you don’t like us anymore, we want our (y/n) back!” Sammy whined. The others agreed with her, making you feel guilty. You were ignoring them, it was selfish in your opinion. You supposed that you could skip out on taking Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating, there’ll be other years you could take them. 

“I guess I can take Tommy and Tubbo another year. They’d just have to go without me this year.”

They cheered, giving you praise. You beamed at that, they seemed down lately and you loved it when they’d give you compliments. They didn’t do that much, so that made their praise more special to you. You strived to get compliments.

You four went off to your separate first classes for the day. Yours was statistics, a class you’ve been struggling in lately. You didn’t know anybody in there except for your oldest brother Techno, so you tried to stick with him. Unfortunately, the teacher’s seating chart placed you both on opposite ends of the room, probably because of your last names indicating that you’re siblings. You placed your stuff down on the table and plopped down into your seat, already drained. You had a long day ahead of you; you had a major AP world history test in your next class, you had to give a presentation in your AP english class that was worth a quarter of your final grade, and you had a semifinals volleyball match that would last until late in the night. If your team won, you would be going to state finals, so it was a lot of pressure on your shoulders. You were the main setter, so you had to really focus tonight if you were going to score your team points. 

“Alright class, pull out your homework!”

Fuck, you had homework? You looked in your folder, only to see the unfinished sheet full of equations you didn’t understand staring back at you tauntingly. Mr. Mullins walked over to your desk, took one look at your blank homework, and just walked right past you. Another big fat zero in the gradebook for you, just what you needed. At least he wasn’t in the mood to berate you today. You didn’t need any more stress piled onto your shoulders. 

The lesson felt like it dragged on forever with you frantically trying to copy down the notes on the board and trying to understand the content at the same time. Overtime, he would call students up to the board. Hopefully, he would skip over you today. “Ms. Minecraft.” Goddamn it, you spoke too soon.

Your head perked up and you looked at him. “Yes sir?”

“Come up to the board and solve this.”

Gulping, you felt panic rise up in you and stood up with shaky knees. On the board was part of the newer content he was just teaching. Something that you understood only a little bit better than the rest, and that’s not saying much. You still didn’t understand the content completely. Your writing was shaky as you wrote what you thought was right on the board. Finding the answer, you circled it and looked at Mr. Mullins. He looked disappointed. 

“That’s wrong, Ms. Minecraft. Please sit down.”

You felt like your face was on fire as you saw the entire class burning holes into you with their eyes. Though they looked dead inside, as per usual with any morning class full of tired teenagers, their effects still took hold on you. You wanted to crawl into a dark hole and die. You sat back down and stared at your note packet, you couldn’t focus on the lecture anymore. Your attention was fully on your surroundings, you were hyper aware of every little whisper and bouncing leg in your peripheral vision. You could feel yourself spiraling, usually that wouldn’t happen until after your third class. Today was going to be rough. 

The loud chime of the bell startled you out of your thoughts. You shakily put your papers back into your binder and put the binder back into your backpack. Right as you were about to walk through the door, you heard Techno catch up to you. “Hey, you good?”

“Yeah Tech, I’m just peachy.”

“Are you su-”

“Technoblade. I’m fine. Now if you excuse me, I have to get to my next class. I have an important presentation I’ve gotta prepare for.”

Without giving him any room to argue, you rushed off to your english class. You had Adrian and Annie in your class. For your presentation, you were paired up with people that you hardly knew. At least they did their part in the project, you were certain you were going to die if you got paired up with Adrian and Annie again. You loved them, but they never did any part of their portion of work. They left it to you to finish at midnight the day the project was due. To be fair, they both told you they had family emergencies, so you covered for them just that once. 

You pulled out your flashcards only to have them knocked out of your hand when someone bumped into you. You quickly crouched to pick them up so you could have them in order by time class started. “Oops, sorry love.”

It was Annie. She and Adrian towered over your crouched form smirking at you. Looking back down to rearrange your cards, you murmured “it’s ok.”

“Are you ready for this presentation, I know I am.”

You smiled a little. “Actually, I think I’m going to ace this. English is my best subject.”

“Yeah (y/n), I wasn’t asking you. I was talking to Annie. Besides, you’re probably going to fail this.” Adrian scoffed. 

“Thank you for asking, Adrian,” Annie shot a pointed look at you, “at least someone cares.”

The bell rang, signifying the start of your second block. You felt like you had a lump in your throat blocking your breathing. If Adrian, one of the smartest kids in your english class, said that you were going to fail, then you probably were going to fail. That would take a huge hit on your grade, this project was worth a quarter of your final grade after all. You were zoned out for the entirety of your classmate’s presentations putting yourself into a spiral. You jumped when Mr. Todd, your teacher, called your group up to present.

You stood stiffly in the middle of your two groupmates and clutched your flashcards with clammy hands. Luckily, your part of the presentation was not first. When it came to your part, you were stuttering and tumbling over your words. You even dropped your flashcards in front of everybody, causing half the class to snicker. Your face burned as you hurried to pick them up and your other groupmate took this as a signal to continue the presentation. You still had an important point to make that was integral for the set up to your other groupmate’s part of her presentation. You stared at your flashcards for the rest of the presentation. 

When the bell rang, you made a mad dash out of the classroom. You didn’t want to talk to anybody, especially not Adrian or Annie. It was a relief that you had your lunch period at the moment. You could hide yourself in the bathroom nobody used and let your panic attack ride itself out. 

You ducked inside a stall and sat on the toilet, bringing your knees up to bury your face in them. The tears and panic you were holding in all day let itself out with explosive effects. You started to hyperventilate as you muffled your sobs with your knee. Your chest painfully clenched so you couldn’t breathe. Your limbs felt like they weighed two tons each and they were shaking intensely. You didn’t hear the end of the lunch bell ring. By the time you calmed down slightly, you were five minutes late to AP world history. 

You packed your stuff up in a hurry, power walking through the halls. You probably looked like shit, but you didn’t care, you had a class to get to and a test that you probably wouldn’t be able to finish now. You lost ten minutes of your test time. When you tried to open the closed door, you found that it was locked. You had to knock if you wanted to get in. You raised a shaking hand to knock, but the door was opened by a less-than-impressed Ms. Osborne. She ushered you to your desk and gave you your unit test. 

You couldn’t focus. The multiple choice section was usually a breeze to you, but you couldn’t comprehend any of the questions. When you could comprehend them, you couldn’t concentrate on choosing an answer. You did your best to find the correct answers, but you were almost positive that at least half of them were wrong. Your handwriting was nearly incomprehensible and your essay topic was something you didn’t study for. When you were done with half of the body paragraphs, the bell rang and you had to turn in your unfinished test. 

You had your independent online psychology course next in the library. You usually worked alone secluded in a corner deep inside the library where nobody went. You would get some solace in being alone. Maybe you’d calm down enough so that you could ride home with your brothers and not go for a long walk so you could avoid them. 

You settled down in the comfortable chair and pulled out your laptop to get started. Psychology was your favorite class. It was easy for you to understand, it didn’t have much of a workload attached to it, and it was fun to learn about. It always calmed you down reading about the intricate workings of the brain. 

By time the day was over, you got most of your psychology work done and you were on your way to the car you shared with Technoblade and Wilbur. You took out your spare keys and slumped against the window in the backseat. You were absolutely drained after your terrible day and you still felt panic swirling deep within you, waiting for the right moment to strike. 

You stretched out your legs across the seat and leaned your back against the door. For the first time that day, you felt peaceful. You still had at least fifteen minutes to yourself until your brothers would start to make your way to the car. You felt the panic subside slightly and you fully relaxed. You closed your eyes and let yourself drift off into a light sleep. You needed your energy for tonight’s match. 

The door you were leaning on swung open and you tumbled backwards smacking the back of your head against the metal frame of the car and reverse scorpioning onto the pavement. Your entire upper back and the back of your head exploded in pain and your lower back hurt slightly from having your back bent uncomfortably. You heard laughter above you as you felt tears of pain start to slip out of your eyes. Your legs swung out from their place above your face and landed on the ground with a painful thump. 

You saw three blurry figures above you laughing at your pain. You reached up with a shaky hand to wipe at your tears and saw Adrian, Sammy, and Annie. They were cackling as you shakily stood up and sat on the comfortable seats of the car. You waited patiently for them to calm down. 

Eventually, Sammy calmed down enough to explain what happened to you through chuckles. “I’m sorry (y/n), it was just too good to resist. You should’ve seen your face.”

She and the others broke back into uncontrolled laughter as they remembered your embarrassing fall. You were used to their antics, and quite frankly it felt good to make your friends laugh, even if it were at your own expense. Just as they were calming down once again, you saw Wilbur and Techno walk out the front doors of the school laughing at something the other said. Annie and Sammy heard their laughter and quickly turned around to watch them. They had massive crushes on both of your brothers, many in the school did. 

Your brothers made their way to your shared car and stopped to look at you in slight confusion. “(Y/n), were you crying? What happened?” Wilbur asked worriedly. 

“Yea-”

“Oh Wilbur, it was terrible, (y/n) fell out of the car. I don’t think she closed the door before she leaned on it.” Annie interrupted you with a faked concerned tone, a complete contradiction to her reaction before your brothers came.

Techno hastily made his way to the driver’s side door. “Well, if she’s hurt we better get going, right Wilbur?”

“Yes! We better get going, please excuse us.” He sat in the passenger seat and closed the door without hearing Sammy and Annie’s desperate attempts to stop them so they could talk to them. Your brothers thought Sammy and Annie were annoying. They absolutely hated being around them. 

Waving apologetically at your friends, you pulled yourself into the car and closed the door. Annie and Sammy looked offended that you had let Wilbur and Techno get away from them. Avoiding their eyes, you looked down at your tightly clasped hands. They were shaking slightly. 

After pulling out of the parking lot, Techno glanced at you from the rearview mirror. “You ok (y/n)?”

“Yeah, my back just hurts and I have a headache.”

“Well, do you wanna go and get some ice cream? We still have some time left before we have to pick up Tommy and Tubbo. Dad doesn’t have to know,” Wilbur asked you.

You sighed, you wanted nothing other than to take a nap before your match. “Sorry, but I need to watch what I eat today. We have semifinals tonight and I can’t have anything sugary. I just wanna go home and take a nap.”

Your brothers were quiet for the rest of the car ride until you reached your driveway. Techno twisted his body around in his seat to look at you after he put the car in park. “Did you actually fall out of the car?”

Shit, should you tell him the truth? If you did, they would almost certainly get mad at your friends. Sammy and Annie would never forgive you if you turned your brothers against them. You decided that you would take one for the team again. “Yeah, I wasn’t paying attention.” 

Techno snorted. “Well, that was stupid,” he jokingly said. “Next time you’re gonna get run over by a parked car.”

You knew that he meant that as a joke, but it still stung. Stamping your emotions down, you laughed with him and Wilbur. It was stupid of you to do, you shouldn’t have let your guard down if you weren’t at home. 

You winced as you slung your bag on your back and walked the best you could back into your house. Your upper back was killing you. You made a beeline to the bathroom and rummaged through the medicine cabinet looking for some pain relief pills. You took some and shambled off to your room to take your well earned nap. You set your alarm’s setting to its loudest volume and passed out. 

You jolted up and gasped when you felt a wave of pain hit your upper back. You blearily looked at the time. You had a little under two hours before you had to get back to the school for your match. You groaned when you pulled yourself up, your head pounding with every turn. You pulled yourself out of bed and once again took some pain pills. You went downstairs to grab an apple or something to eat. Your dad was at the stove stirring something around in a pot. 

He turned to look at you with an excited smile. “You ready for your match tonight? You’re gonna kill it!” 

You only nodded halfheartedly and plopped yourself down at the table with your apple. Philza frowned at your lack of enthusiasm, but he figured that it was just because you just woke up from a nap. You’d bounce back eventually. 

“Wilbur told me that you fell out of the car? How’d you do that?”

You shrugged, wincing slightly as it moved your back slightly. “Dunno, must’ve not closed the door.”

Philza was at your side in a hurry, his hands hovering over your shoulders. “Did you get hurt? Show me where it hurts.”

“My back and the back of my head.”

“Can I move your shirt so I could look?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

You felt him gently pull the neck of your t-shirt away from your body to peek at your back. You heard his breath hitch as he looked. Was it that bad? “Good god (y/n),” he breathed out.

“What, is it bad?”

“Don’t you feel how bad it is? Your entire back is bruised. I think there’s some blood too.”

“Damn.”

“First, language. Second, that’s all you have to say? Aren’t you in pain?”

“Yeah, but the pain pills are gonna kick in soon. I’ll be fine.”

“Would you be able to play tonight? I really think you should sit this one out.”

“No, I’m playing tonight Dad.”

“(Y/n),” oh no, he was using his stern dad voice. “It’s not a good idea to play tonight. You’re hurt, I’m sure they’ll understand if you sit this one out.”

You felt frustration rise up in you. “We’re in the semifinals. They need me, I’m the main setter. They’d lose without me playing.”

“(Y/n), I’m serious. You’re not playing today.”

“Dad, I am playing today. Look, I’ll talk to Coach Williams to see if I could be rotated out more often. I know she’d let me.”

He stared at you for a while before sighing. He knew there was no convincing you. “...Fine. But you better talk to Coach Williams about sitting out for a bit if your back hurts too much or I swear I’ll drag you off the court myself.”

You smiled a little at the small victory. “Thank you! I promise I’ll sit out if needed.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “If needed?”

You sighed, “when needed.”

He walked over to the pot, stirring the contents slightly. “That’s better. Dinner’s almost ready, I made some pasta.”

“It smells good, but I think I’m skipping out on it for today. I already ate this apple and if I eat any more I’ll probably hurl on the court.”

He made a displeased noise in the back of his throat, “fine, but you’re eating something when we get home tonight.”

He walked off to go get your brothers and Tubbo for dinner. You could hear their booming steps racing down the stairs towards the kitchen. They raced into the kitchen and almost crashed into the back of your chair. You stood up and looked at the two excitable fifth graders. “Careful boys, don’t want you getting hurt.”

“You’re no fun (y/n),” Tommy whined.

“Sure, sorry bout that,” Tubbo beamed at you.

You chuckled, making your way upstairs to get ready for your match. You took off your clothes with great difficulty and slipped on your jersey and your spandex shorts. They were way too short for your tastes, but you couldn’t wear longer ones, they’d just get in the way. You fondly remembered how your dad flipped out when he first saw you in them, he hated them with a burning passion. He still hates how short they are.

When you were struggling with pulling your hair back into a tight, sleek ponytail, the back of your head throbbed continuously with pain. You most likely bruised your scalp. 

You slipped on your shoes that were made specifically for playing volleyball and headed downstairs. You were met with Tommy and Tubbo jumping in excitement seeing you in your uniform. They loved going to your matches, even if they would always pass out in the car after them because matches usually ended late at night. You grabbed your dad’s keys and headed to his car. Before you could lead the boys out the door, Philza’s voice stopped you.

“(Y/n), coat.”

You huffed, grabbing your coat and putting it on before tossing him his keys. You four got into the car and set out for the high school. The short drive was filled with Tommy and Tubbo asking you questions about volleyball and encouraging you. “(Y/n), you’re gonna kick their butts!”

“Yeah!” Tubbo cheered 

Despite their voices causing a spike of pain to shoot throughout your head, you laughed at their enthusiasm. It was always nice to hear your little brother and pseudo brother in the stands cheering you on, they were your and your team’s personal cheerleaders. 

Not long after you got to the school, you were stretching with your team on the gym’s floor. Your posse found their way into the stands, sitting in the front row. The away team watched your team like a hawk, analysing every single player for any weakness. It was because of them that you tried to not show any pain when you moved your back. You talked to Coach Williams before the team stretch and she was obviously sympathetic with your situation. She agreed to switching you out with the standby setter every few rotations. 

The echo of the whistles caused pain to ring in your head every time someone scored or a foul was called. Your team captain, Haley, was constantly, yet discreetly checking on you throughout the game since she was always next to you. She was the team’s main spiker after all. 

The game droned on and on before you realized that the opposing team was targeting you when they were offensive. They probably realized that you were injured a round ago. You tried your best to block every ball that was sent your way, but a few managed to slip past you when you couldn’t move fast enough. This team was good, but your team was better. 

The score during the final round was tied and the clock was on it’s last ten seconds as the ball soared your way. You dove to hit it, landing on your shoulder on the hard floor and hitting it up high enough for Haley to spike the ball down. The crowd went wild as the ball bounced off from the opposite end of the court almost simultaneously with the screeching of the referee’s whistle, signifying the end of the game and your team’s victory.

You laid on the floor in pain, you thought you must’ve pulled your tender muscles in your back and shoulder. It hurt to move it. You felt one of your teammates grab your hand to yank you up into a giant full team group hug. You yelped slightly in pain as you felt arms press against your back and hands firmly patting your bruised shoulders. You were whisked away into the locker room to change into the pajamas you brought with you. 

“(Y/n), are you alright? That was a pretty hard fall.” Haley’s soft voice asked you. You felt your heart sing in your chest. 

“Yeah Hales, I’m fine. I just pulled a few muscles.”

Her perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowed together, “are you sure? As your team captain and your friend, I’m worried about you.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. You felt warm knowing that she cared about you. “I’m sure, worrywart.”

She rolled her eyes playfully and breathed out a soft laugh. “Sorry for asking, grump.” Her laugh sounded like music to your ears. 

Your phone vibrated in your pajama pocket, alerting you of your family waiting for you in the car and for you to hurry up. You sighed, “sorry Hales, I gotta go. Dad’s getting impatient.” 

She gave you a small smile. “Oh, well, tell your family I said hi! Good work on the court today, I wouldn’t ask for a different setter.”

You felt your cheeks warm up and you watched with wide eyes as she left the locker room. Your phone vibrated again, your dad was really starting to get impatient. 

You walked out of the school as fast as you could to find your dad’s car waiting for you up front. Jumping in and softly closing the passenger side door, you slumped against the window. “(Y/n),” Tommy’s tired voice slurred. “That. Was. Pog…”

You glanced back to see him and Tubbo snoring away in their seats. Your match was more exciting than usual, so that must’ve really tired them out. You chuckled, turning back around to lean against the window. You took care not to put any weight on your shoulder or back. 

“(Y/n), you were amazing out there, but why did you dive for that ball? That fall looked like it hurt.”

You hummed tiredly, “thanks Dad. I just did what I thought would win us the game. We’re going to finals!” You quietly sang. 

“Did you hurt your shoulder?”

“I actually don’t know, but I think I might’ve pulled a few muscles. Nothing too bad.”

“...I scheduled a doctor’s appointment for you tomorrow morning during your first and second blocks. I want you to get your back, shoulder, and head looked at. You looked miserable the entire match.”

You sighed, too tired to argue, “mmk.”

He chuckled before the car fell into a comfortable silence. The gentle bouncing of the car and the subtle hum of the engine was lulling you to sleep. Your eyelids were drooping by the time you pulled into your driveway. 

You drug yourself out of the car and into the house, leaving Philza with the sleeping boys. You walked straight to your room and plopped down on your bed, passing out instantly for the second time that day.

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[emerald-chaos]

Toxic

Good Evening, all! Your friendly neighborhood trash dealer here. This is single-handedly the filthiest thing I have ever written. The whore behavior simply jumped out and I could not rein her in. A friend of mine had been hounding me for months to work on something for Ransom and well.....let's just say I provided. Enjoy your sinning xo.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY (MINORS DNI), daddy kink (I mean duh, it's Ransom), oral sex (m receiving), vaginal intercourse, spanking, dirty talk, degradation, dom/sub vibes, explicit language, praise kink, and per usual - Ransom being kind of an asshole.

By clicking read more you agree that you are at least 18 years of age, as this content is not suitable for anyone younger than that.

You knew you were in deep shit from the moment the word left your lips.

The way his jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed, and his head tilted slightly to the side.

“Sorry, kitten. I don’t think I heard you correctly.” Ransom spat as his knuckles gripping the steering wheel began to turn white.

You were seething with anger in your own way and you weren’t about to let him win. Ransom had a habit of picking the absolute stupidest shit to start a fight over and after the way your night went, you were over it.

“I said no, Ransom. I am so fucking tired of you pulling this shit every single time we go out. I’m not apologizing.” Venom and anger were heavy in your voice.

“Pulling what shit exactly? Being pissed off that you were blatantly flirting with another man right in front of me?” Ransom seemed a little too calm for the situation, and that should’ve been your first clue that this one wasn’t going to end in your favor.

“Oh my god!” You threw your hands up. “For the last fucking time, he was the goddamn bartender and he offered me a drink! That’s his job, you psycho!”

“And where you’re from, is it customary to flash your tits along with your smile at people for doing their job?” Ransom began to accelerate as he made his way back to the house.

“I’m not even going to indulge this anymore. You are fucking ridiculous.” You crossed your arms over your chest and turned your body to face the window.

Dating Ransom was akin to a roller coaster ride - if the roller coaster was coated in toxic slime and on fire. You had come to learn that this side of him, the Mr. Hyde to his Dr. Jekyll, stemmed from many years of untreated self-esteem and mommy issues. Sometimes you were able to shrug off his outbursts as a product of his insecurities, and other times he hit just the right button to send you into your own full blown rage.

Tonight was no different. Ransom had been begging you for weeks to attend some fancy charity dinner with him so that he wouldn’t have to suffer through it alone. He even went as far as to buy you a new dress because you were worried that nothing you owned would be appropriate enough for such an occasion. Now here he was, driving the two of you home, filled with rage over the fact that the dress he bought you showed a little too much cleavage when you leaned over to thank the bartender due to the loud music drowning out any hopes of other noise. Apparently that somehow translated to “flashing the bartender” and wanting to fuck him.

“You’re my girl.” Ransom spoke, somewhat softer than the previous tone, “You don’t belong to anyone else.”

Your gaze drifted toward him, unable to quash the curiosity of what he looked like as he spoke. His jaw was still clenched, but not nearly as hard as it was earlier. Ransom always had one of the most beautiful side profiles - sharp jawline, high cheekbones. You knew he was attempting to keep up the hard ass act, but there was a softness to his face that you would recognize anywhere. Once again, his insecurity got the best of him and he chose to project and take that out on you. You wanted more than anything to stay mad at him, to tell him to fuck off and sleep on the couch, but just like every other time before this, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“You’re right.” You spoke softly as you placed a hand on his thigh, “I am your girl. And I love you so much. I just wish you wouldn’t have such an itchy trigger finger. I would never cheat on you, Ransom. I don’t want anyone else, never wanted anyone else.”

Your thumb softly stroked his thigh as you spoke. Almost immediately, you were able to see his shoulders lower back to their normal position and the color return to his knuckles.

Before you were able to say anything else Ransom reached the driveway and put the car in park. You watched from your seat as he exited the car and walked around to your side to open the door for you. You looked up at him for a moment before you took his outstretched hand and allowed him to help you from the passenger seat. Ransom’s hand found its place on your lower back as he walked with you into the house. You were pleasantly surprised that you were able to calm the monster so quickly. It felt as though you had moved past this stupid fight and you were able to let your guard down.

That was a mistake.

The moment the two of you crossed the threshold you felt Ransom’s hands spin your body to pin you harshly against the large wooden front door with a large thud.

“Ransom, what the fu--” Before you were able to finish the sentence, one of his hands flew up to your face and gripped your cheeks harshly. The force of his fingers pushing in on the soft flesh made your lips part slightly.

“You know better than to fuck with me, Kitten. Nobody tells me no.” Ransom’s voice came out as a low growl.

As much as you should’ve been pissed that he would manhandle you like this, you couldn’t stop the ache that began to form between your legs. You stared into his lust blown pupils as you squeezed your thighs together.

“You’ve been a bad fucking girl tonight. Disobeying me, showing other men what’s mine.” Ransom shook your face subtly.

All you could do was blink slowly as you listened to him speak, your eyes betraying you as they trailed down his face to watch his plump lips move. He was right, you did know better.

Knowing better didn’t stop you, however, once an idea popped into your head. You reset your gaze on his as you spoke.

“I’m sorry, daddy.” You managed to mumble out, Ransom’s grip lightening every so slightly as you began to speak.

Instead of giving him a chance to respond to the apology he wanted so badly to receive, you turned your head and took his thumb into your mouth. You made sure to maintain eye contact as you hollowed your cheeks, swirling your tongue around the finger slowly. Ransom groaned and you could swear you felt his cock twitch against your leg. Just as quickly as you took it in, you released his thumb with a wet pop.

“Did you think that little show was going to get you out of trouble, Kitten? That’s cute.”

Ransom unpinned you from the door and as you stumbled forward his hand landed on your ass with a harsh smack.

“Get upstairs. Now.”

You could feel the wetness pooling between your thighs as you obeyed his direction. Practically running up the stairs, you began to take your heels off as you reached the threshold of your room. You tossed the shoes to the corner of the room and took your seat on the edge of the bed, legs together and hands flat on your lap. Exactly how you knew Ransom liked you to be.

This was the part of your relationship that people may see as toxic. The two of you will fight over something stupid, then you usually end up having some kind of hot, possessive, hate sex and then everything is fine the next day. Yeah, sure, when you say it out loud it sounds a little toxic - but it was just the way the two of you worked. After several years of being with Ransom, you were okay with it. The ache between your thighs actually signaled you might be a little more than okay with it.

You sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for him for what felt like forever. Just as you began to feel impatient and the urge to get up and go look for him set in, he appeared in the doorway. His large coat was discarded, probably downstairs, and now he remained only in a white t-shirt and his slacks.

“Stand up.” He commanded as he crossed the room toward you.

Doing as he said, you stood up from the bed and turned slightly as you watched him take the position you were just in. Without needing direction, you laid across his lap. You chewed on your lip as you felt his hands smooth over the fabric covering your ass.

“Now you wanna be a good girl, huh?” Ransom teased as he gripped the flesh of your ass harshly.

You knew the question was rhetorical, but you nodded anyway. Ransom chuckled darkly as he hooked his thumbs underneath the hem of your dress and pushed it up around your waist. Large hands palmed the globes of your ass and you did your best to keep from making any noise - you knew that would only piss him off more.

Unfortunately for you, you weren’t able to contain the squeak that came out as his hand roughly made contact with your bare flesh.

Ransom tsked you as he gingerly stroked the reddened flesh.

“I thought you wanted to be a good girl, Kitten? Now I have to start over, and that was only the first one.”

Ransom continued to stroke the handprint he left on you until he decided that he had been nice for long enough. He began his assault on your flesh as he alternated smacking both sides of your ass harshly. Occasionally they would be short bursts of rapid succession and then others left you wondering when the next one was going to come. You did everything you could to keep your noises at bay. The skin stung and tears had begun to form in your eyes, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t incredibly turned on.

Deciding you had finally had enough, Ransom began to soothe the sore skin once more. Gentle hands caressed the area and he leaned down to pepper kisses along his red handprints.

“You did so good for me, Kitten.” Ransom cooed as he sat back up straight.

You felt his hand nudge your thighs apart, his palm coming into contact with your soaking core. Of course, it was his idea that you go without panties. He always said he liked having easier access. Ransom slid his palm up and down, collecting the wetness that had started to drip onto his lap. There were very few things Ransom loved more than to see how much he affected you.

“My poor girl. So wet. Bet it aches, doesn’t it, Kitten?” Ransom teased as he continued to run his palm over your folds.

You keened as you nodded your head, unable to keep your hips from grinding against his palm. He was right, you were aching and needed any type of friction you were able to find. A loud gasp fell from your lips as you felt his palm smack your core three times in rapid succession. The noise of his palm slapping against the wetness was absolutely obscene - and it only made you wetter.

“Such a little fucking whore. Trying to get yourself off on my hand. Bad girls don’t get to cum.” Ransom removed his hand from between your thighs completely, making you whine at the loss of contact.

Ransom’s hands instead found their way to your hips as he helped you up and off of his lap. Immediately, you sank to your knees between his thighs.

“I wanna be your good girl, daddy.” You whined, undoing the button and zipper on his pants. “I’m so sorry. Let me show you how sorry.”

Ransom chuckled at your pathetic appearance - eyes red from tears, lips swollen from being bitten to keep your noises in, and cheeks flushed pink.

“What a good idea, Kitten. Guess you aren’t as stupid as I thought.” Ransom lifted his hips to help you as you gripped his pants and boxers and slid them down his thighs. He reached behind his neck and pulled the white shirt from his body, tossing it haphazardly.

You licked your lips as you took in the sight of his thick cock. The tip was swollen, red, and leaking pre-cum. He enjoyed the previous activities just as much as you had, if not more. You locked your eyes on his as you gathered saliva in your mouth and spit into your hand, using it as lubrication as you gripped him at his base and began to pump your hand up and down. Ransom leaned back onto his hands as he let out a string of obscenities.

“You’re a dirty fucking girl, aren’t you? Fuck. Use your mouth.”

Not wanting to disappoint, you leaned forward and flattened your tongue as you licked a stripe up the underside of his cock. As you reached the top you swirled your tongue around the head, collecting the salty pre-cum before relaxing your throat and taking as much of him into your mouth as you could. One of Ransom’s hands quickly went into your hair to twist the strands and hold it like a makeshift ponytail. You choked slightly as he bucked his hips up to your mouth, but did your best to relax and breathe through your nose.

“Love this fucking dirty mouth.” Ransom moaned loudly, taking his bottom lip between his teeth.

You pulled away when it began to feel like too much, a string of saliva connecting the tip to your lips. You licked your lips and wrapped your hand around him to stroke him while you caught your breath. Hungry to please him, you quickly took him back into your mouth, once again relaxing the back of your throat as much as possible as you hollowed your cheeks around his length. What you couldn’t take in your mouth, you stroked with your hand. Ransom was a squirming mess beneath you and it only egged you on. There were very few times when he would allow himself to appear vulnerable, and you loved when he did.

Letting him go once more, you continued to stroke his cock as you leaned down to take his balls in your mouth, suckling gently. You felt him tighten under you immediately.

“Jesus Christ, Kitten. You really want to make daddy cum, don’t you?” Ransom hissed.

Pulling away once more, you continued stroking him as you nodded enthusiastically.

Ransom’s lip darted out from his parted lips to wet his bottom lip.

“Then let daddy fuck that sweet little mouth.”

You felt yourself clench around nothing at his words. You released your grip on him and leaned back on your haunches. As Ransom stood up you tilted your head upward toward him and opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out and flattening it for him.

Ransom grinned at how eager you were to please him. One of his hands cupped the back of your head as his other gripped his cock, tapping it on your tongue a few times before pushing it inside your mouth. The stretch burned your throat and the sensation of your gag reflex setting off made you want to pull away, but the sweet noises that fell from Ransom’s lips were too good to give up. You did your best to breathe through your nose as you dug your fingernails into his thighs and let him fuck your mouth.

“Fuck, Kitten. G-Gonna cum.” Ransom panted as he placed both hands on your head, his hips snapping harshly into your mouth.

You did your best to swirl your tongue around him as he moved in and out of your mouth. Finally, his hips began to falter and soon you felt his release coat the back of your throat. You greedily swallowed every last drop, licking your lips as soon as his cock left your mouth.

Ransom sighed deeply as he let go of your head and stumbled backwards, landing back in his spot at the end of the bed. You bit your lip as you watched him try to regain his breath. You took this moment to pull your dress from your body and add it to the pile of clothes already on the floor, your bra following in suit. Slowly dropping to all fours, you crawled toward him on the bed. As you reached the space between his thighs, his thumb and pointer fingers came down to cradle your chin.

“Did I make you feel good, daddy?” You purred as he tilted your head up toward him.

“Made daddy feel real good, Kitten. I knew you had it in you. My good girl.” Ransom swiped his thumb across your lower lip as he gave you a tired grin.

“Now get up here. I wanna feel that tight little pussy ‘round my cock.”

Ransom moved up the bed, leaning back against the headboard as he watched you scramble to your feet and crawl onto the bed.

You straddled his waist and placed your palms flat on his chest. Before moving, you leaned in to capture his lips in another kiss. Ransom moaned at the way you asserted yourself and pushed your tongue into his mouth, tangling it with his own. His hands gripped your hips tightly as you bit down on his bottom lip and pulled back on it. As you let it go you fluttered your eyes up to meet his.

“I love you.”

Ransom cupped your cheek in a rare moment of tenderness. His thumb slowly stroked the apple of your cheek as he looked at you in admiration.

“I love you too, Kitten. Now ride me.”

Grinning at Ransom’s inability to remain soft for more than a few seconds, you seated yourself over his cock. You lowered your hips and grinded your wetness against him for a few moments, biting your lip at the way his cock twitched from sensitivity. Ransom’s hands found their way back to your hips as he gave you a warning growl.

Before he had a chance to chastise you, you reached between the two of you to line him up to your entrance and slid down until he filled you to the hilt. The two of you moaned in tandem at the sensation. The familiar sting of his cock stretching you open drew a hiss from your lips. No one had ever made you feel the way Ransom does - so satisfied and full.

After a moment of stillness, you began to rock your hips against him. It was a slow body roll at first, but quickly became more of a needy bounce as the feeling turned from painful to absolute pleasure. Ransom continued to hold your hips with such a force that you were sure there would be bruises present tomorrow.

“Shit, can feel you drippin’ all over me.” Ransom cursed through gritted teeth, as your wetness soaked down onto his thighs.

“C-can’t help it.” You whined, raking your fingernails down his chest. “Makin’ me feel so good. So full.”

Ransom began to meet your thrusts halfway, using his grip on your hips to help you continue to ride him.

“That’s fuckin right. Nobody can make you feel the way I can, isn’t that right? Who’s perfect little fucking cunt is this, hmm?”

“Yours!” You shouted as you tossed your head back, moaning loudly as he hit the spongy spot inside you.

Using the opportunity to his advantage, Ransom shoved three fingers into your open mouth. You held onto his wrist as you sucked his fingers, drooling around them and using his arm as leverage to assist in the rocking of your hips. Ransom kept those fingers in your mouth as he used his other hand to pinch your nipple harshly.

“So responsive to me. Your body fuckin loves me, baby.” Ransom grunted as he gave the other breast the same treatment. “Love these perfect fuckin tits.”

You moaned loudly around his fingers as you felt yourself begin to flutter around him.

“That greedy little pussy is squeezin me so fuckin tight. You think you deserve to cum now, hmm? You think you’ve been a good enough girl?” Ransom withdrew his fingers from your lips.

You fell slightly forward and splayed your hands on his chest as he bent his knees and put his feet flat against the mattress.

“Yes! Yes! Please, daddy!” You whined as you dug your fingernails into his chest. “Been so good, please, i’m so sorry, i’ll never be bad again!”

Ransom used the fingers that he had placed in your mouth to rub tight circles against your clit, making you shout out in pleasure. His other hand kept a tight hold on your hip as he began to use his leverage to thrust up into you, reaching a deeper spot inside you than he had all night.

“Go ahead, Kitten. Cum.”

With his words you reached your peak with a quiet scream. Eyes clamped shut, mouth slack, and fingers digging into Ransom’s chest - you felt your release coat him and leak onto the bed. Ransom continued to fuck you through your orgasm and you felt him twitch inside of you shortly after, painting your walls with his release.

Unable to keep yourself up right, you allowed your body to collapse down onto his. Chest to chest, face tucked in the crook of his neck as you panted heavily. Ransom’s arms immediately wrapped around you as he stroked your back with his hand.

After a few moments of silence, other than your heavy breathing, Ransom pressed a soft kiss to your temple. A soft sigh floated from your hips.

“M’sorry.” Ransom whispered quietly against your head.

If you hadn’t been paying attention you would’ve missed it, but you knew Ransom well enough to know what he was apologizing for. Him fucking you within an inch of your life was his own way of saying, “Sorry I was an asshole”.

Another kiss was pressed to your forehead as your body was gently laid onto the mattress. Ransom made his way to the bathroom and came back with a warm towel, using it to clean the mess between your legs as he placed soft kisses on your thighs. Ransom tossed the towel onto the floor and climbed back into the bed with you, pulling your back flush against him.

“I love you, Ransom.” You whispered, closing your eyes and enjoying the moment with your boyfriend.

“Love you too, Kitten.” Ransom whispered back as he placed a kiss between your shoulder blades.

The two of you laid in bed quietly, holding one another close, fully prepared to forget about this fight in the morning. Sure, what the two of you had was a little twisted and fucked up - but it was yours.

[heyyyharry]

Happier

(inspired by happier by Olivia Rodrigo)

Word count: 2.4k

I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

Part 1: Drivers License

Part 2: Deja Vu

A/N: I edited the original lyrics to match the POV :)

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.

.

Harry had come up with a thousand scenarios of how this day would play out. Actually, he’d been thinking of this day since the moment he’d received the news. He didn’t dare to hope that she’d say yes to coming back for a sequel. He’d been sure that they would write her character off, give a lame excuse for how his love interest could not make a return and make his character forget about her completely to move on with a new girl in town. It would have been great if it was that easy in real life. Once someone was written off the script, they were gone for good. Real-life relationships were not that simple. Goodbye didn’t mean ‘never see you again’. You would still share the same friend circle and social bubbles, and it was worse when you two worked in the same industry. Harry didn’t know how he’d lasted a year without running into her, not since the Grammys.

“Didn’t you two date?”

“No.” Harry shook his head, but his eyes stayed glued on Y/N from across the room. She wasn’t looking his way, too busy saying hello to everyone else. “No,” he repeated, more to himself than to his co-star. “We didn’t.”

“But she wrote an entire album about you,” said the other twin. What was her name again? Lulu?

“Luna!” cried her sister, Lex. “You can’t ask him that!”

“No, it’s okay,” Harry said with a tight smile, slightly annoyed by the blonde twins, but he didn’t want to seem like an ass on the first day of filming. “And I don’t know if it was for me. You should ask Y/N.”

“Ask me what?”

Harry flinched when he looked up and saw Y/N padding towards them. She hugged the twins, who seemed way too excited. Harry guessed they were Y/N’s fans. They gave off crazy fangirl vibes, probably just pretending not to know the drama to interrogate him. He couldn’t blame them for assuming he was the villain and definitely could not blame Y/N for portraying him as one. It was more important that he knew who he was and how much he had changed since his last relationship. Maybe they could finally be friends.

“Were they bothering you?” Y/N asked him once the twins had left.

Harry nodded. “They’re your friends?”

“Oh, I met them last year on tour. I’m surprised you don’t know them. They were on Disney.”

“I don’t watch Disney,” Harry admitted with a smile. “Well, not today’s Disney.”

“Understandable.” Y/N nodded and bit her lip. She seemed guarded with her straight back and hands hidden behind her. She eyed him up and down, quite subtle yet noticeable. “How have you been?”

“Pretty good,” he said, nodding slowly. “You?”

“Yeah, but mostly tired because of tour.”

“You’re done?”

“Yup, last night was the last show.”

“Nice.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Nice?”

Harry blinked. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No.” Y/N giggled. “You still sound very...you.”

“Well, shouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, you should. But it’s been a year so…I mean, you haven’t changed much.”

“Right,” he said lowly, his eyes falling to his feet. Harry supposed he should say something else, perhaps bringing up another random topic to discuss, but all he could think about was what had happened between them. Things had been messy, hadn’t they? How could they go back to before that? Before her first song about him. Before he’d chosen someone else over her.

Or he could talk about her new relationship. She’d been in a happy relationship for almost six months, right? No wait, hadn’t they broke up two weeks ago? He wasn’t sure because he hadn’t been catching up. If they’d broken up, he’d sound like an ass to even mention her ex’s name. He should just stay quiet.

“I’ll see you later?” she said, gesturing at her stylist who was waiting by the door.

Harry could ask her right now -- the reason she’d agreed to film the sequel to their first movie together. He’d heard from a very reliable source that she’d specifically asked her agent to decline any project that he was in. So did this mean they were good? That she didn’t hate him anymore? He could have gathered his courage and got the answer right then…

“Yeah, see you.”

...but he didn’t.

And so she gave him a smile and a little wave, then happily returned to her stylist.

.

.

.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N!”

“See you, Annie!” Y/N said as she put the rest of her things into her tote bag. Her new driver had got her schedule mixed up, and so she had to wait here for another half an hour. She was in no rush. It had been a light first day, and she’d had a fun time getting to know the new cast members and catching up with old friends.

She sat on the sofa in the lobby, legs crossed, texting her best friend about her day. She’d purposely left out the short off-screen conversation with Harry, and her best friend didn’t even bother to ask. In their world, he didn’t exist, and his name was censored in every conversation like a curse word that was even worse than ‘cunt’. Nevertheless, she didn’t hate him anymore. She was doing just fine on her own, being busy with her career, and she’d been in a happy relationship after her fall out with him.

She and the guy, a model, had broken up two weeks ago due to long distance and some differences that they could not change. They had ended on good terms and decided to stay friends. They said you could only stay friends with your ex when you still had feelings for each other, or you had never loved each other that much in the first place. For her, it was probably the latter. Her previous relationship had been more platonic than romantic, apparently. So she had nothing but the best to say about him.

As she was going through her camera roll, just reminiscing about the past, she heard footsteps approaching and looked up to find Harry. He offered a smile and gestured to the spot beside her on the sofa. “May I sit here? My ride is late.”

“Yeah, sure.” She hurriedly scooted over.

“Good job today,” he said. “You were great.”

“Thanks, so were you.” She smiled, and they both looked away at the same time. This was so awkward. She hated small talk. She’d never had to have small talk with Harry. Conversations with him used to be so easy and natural and silly. Whatever this was, it wasn’t them.

“Can we just be normal?”

At first, Y/N thought she’d been the one who’d said it, so when she realised it’d been Harry, she was speechless.

He swallowed and sat a bit straighter, still not looking at her. “I don’t want us to be weird and awkward.”

“Okay,” she said.

He cleared his throat. “Wanna try again?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, not to sound like an ass but when Joey kept forgetting his lines, I was so pissed off, I could throw a chair at the wall.”

“Right?!” exclaimed Y/N, feeling free to have finally broken out of her shell. “Like, he doesn’t even have many lines. I know he’s new but damn...you can’t get far if you don’t learn your goddamn lines.”

Harry shook with laughter. “Oh God, we sound like dicks, don’t we?”

“Maybe.” Y/N laughed, covering her mouth. “But you know what? We can’t be nice in this industry. It’s impossible.”

“Shhh, if someone heard this, we would be into big trouble.”

“Oh please, I’ve had worse articles written about me than ‘Y/N speaks facts about her lazy co-star’.”

Harry tossed his head back and cackled. “The worst one I’ve got this week was ‘Harry Styles hates therapists.’”

“What?!” Y/N gasped. “No way! That’s so stupid!”

“Right?” Harry rolled his eyes. “I could get all my therapists to speak up for me but I’m kinda immune to bullshit now.”

“Therapists? Like plural?”

“Yeah, one in every city.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

Y/N rubbed her hands onto her legs. “Rough year?”

Harry’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he leaned back. “You have no idea.” Then he swept his hair out of his eyes, sucked in a breath, and finally looked at her. “I wish I could have talked to you, though.”

She bit her tongue, knowing what she was about to say next would disappoint her best friend so much, but she had to. “So do I.”

Harry looked taken aback before his lips curled into a smile. “It’s silly, isn’t it? I haven’t talked to you in a year, and I feel like I know everything that’s happened to you except that I don’t.”

What he’d just said might make no sense for most people, but Y/N knew exactly what he meant. She nodded and wetted her lip. “You only know as much as everyone else does.”

“Yeah, I got updates on you from the news and our friends.”

“Same.” Y/N smiled back. “I hate how they write articles about your new haircut but not mine.”

“I like your new hair colour.”

“Thanks. I like your new car.”

Then they both burst out laughing. It was fun and also a little bit strange that Y/N didn’t feel the same anxiety talking to him as she used to. It must be because they had grown and were now meeting again as better people.

“Damn, my ride's here,” Y/N said as she read the text from her driver. “I gotta go now.”

“Oh, okay.” Harry stood up and followed Y/N to the entrance. “Hey, just wondering--”

“Yeah?”

“Am I...am I still blocked?” He looked a bit flustered as she tilted her head and squinted her eyes. “On your phone. Because I remember you having my number blocked--”

“I unblocked you on your birthday.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” Y/N shrugged. “I should’ve sent you a happy birthday text but...I didn’t want your girlfriend to get the wrong ideas.”

“My ex.”

“Yeah, I know.”

They smiled at each other one last time before saying goodbye. Y/N knew it was silly, but she was hoping he would go after her.

Ding.

A notification popped up when she was in the car. She was almost home, and it was from Harry’s number. He’d sent her a link with a message that said, “Hope you like it :)”.

Curious, she tapped on it and was directed to an audio file titled ‘Track 5’. The upload date was last year. About two weeks after their short conversation at the Grammys.

Hurriedly, she fumbled inside her bag for her iPods and put it on before she pressed play.

“Hey, Jeff, I couldn’t sleep so I wrote this song. Listen and let me know if it should go on the album.”

Then came the piano intro. It sounded good, so Y/N wondered how it hadn’t ended up on his last album.

But when he started to sing...

We ended a while ago Your friends are mine, you know, I know You've moved on, found someone new One more guy who brings out the better in you

And I thought my heart was detached From all the sunlight of our past But he’s so nice, he’s so funny Does he mean you forgot about me?

Oh, I hope you're happy But not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

And does he tell you you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen? An eternal love bullshit he might not even mean Remember when you were with me I meant it when you heard it first from me

And now I'm pickin' him apart Like cuttin' him down will make you miss my wretched heart But he’s charming, he looks kind He probably gives you butterflies

I hope you're happy But not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better

I hope you're happy I wish you all the best, really Say you love him, baby Just not like you loved me And think of me fondly when your hands are on him I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

The song was for her. He’d written it when her new relationship had gone public. Y/N sat there, staring blankly ahead until the honking of a car tore open her inner peace, and reality came crashing back in. The driver dropped her off at her house. Instead of going inside, she stood on her front steps and replayed the song one more time. When it ended, she decided to text him: Why didn’t this make it to the album?

She didn’t know where he was now, but it showed ‘typing’ in less than a second, as if he’d been waiting in their chat since he’d sent that link.

You would’ve hated me, Y/N.

True, she replied. Still, I would’ve loved the song lowkey. And added, I love it btw.

He took so long to type that it was driving her crazy. She flopped down on the concrete stair with her phone clutched in her hands, her heart thundering against her ribcage. Anxiety popped like a balloon when his message appeared: Were you happier?

She reread it again and again.

No.

I wasn’t either, he responded. I kept getting deja vu.

Ha, nice reference.

That song is my guilty pleasure. Love listening to you roasting me on loop.

That last message made Y/N bury her face into her palm and giggle like a fool. She thought for a second and wrote: I could come roast you in person now if that’s what you prefer. I think we’ve never had a proper roasting.

Can we meet, Y/N? Or are you busy now?

No, not busy.

Great, I’ll pick you up.

Just tell me where, she responded with a smile on her face. I got my drivers license now :)

[nastyatticman]

Uhh hi

Could you do just phone sex with billy lenz but with a male reader? And like showing both povs

Sorry if that too much

It’s not too much! I love this prompt 👀 I love writing Billy’s POV too, it’s fun!

This ended up way longer than I intended but I had a lot of fun with it! Enjoy :3c

Billy Lenz x male Reader

Warnings: voyeurism, crude language (it’s Billy Lenz after all). Reader is male, and it’s written vague enough to be trans inclusive. (Well, it works for me, but YMMV. Words like cock, hole, etc are used) 18+ Only

Things were tense lately - you were having an awful time at work, and it didn’t help that people were always rude about your work’s mask policy. You just couldn’t understand how someone would complain about having to wear a piece of cloth in the five minutes it took to order donuts, especially to you, who obviously had to wear one all day and stay on your feet the whole time.

It was stupid. People are stupid. You were just glad to get back to your apartment and lay down for a while. It was a little lonely, just you and the plants since your roommate was out to visit his girlfriend’s family. Not that you’d missed seeing him every day in quarantine.

No, you kind of appreciated the privacy. Today you were frustrated and couldn’t think of anything that sounded better than getting off. So you watered the plants, grabbed yourself a drink, and loaded up a video you bought recently.

You started off slow, rubbing yourself through your clothes as the guys started making out on the screen - the big screen, since you finally felt comfortable watching porn on your laptop. As things started to escalate, you undid your pants, finally stroking your cock directly. But, like all things today, some stranger decided to interrupt you.

The phone rang down the hall and you almost let it ring, but you remembered your friend was expecting a call from a place he’d applied to, so you had to answer it anyway. Ugh. You rinsed your hand quickly and picked it up.

“Hello?”

The line was silent, save for some heavy breathing. God, not this guy again... You weren’t sure who the mystery caller was, but he’d grown on you. First you thought it was your roommate’s friend Peter playing a prank on you (even though you’d met him and his girlfriend Jess, and they seemed serious, despite how out of his league she was). You didn’t know, straight men are weird.

But Peter denied it when you had your roommate ask him, so... And besides, how many straight men call their male acquaintances to proposition them for sex?

At this point, it was tempting - you didn’t have time to meet people since the lockdown began, and your roommate was out...

The man kept breathing, once in a while making a strangled noise like he was trying not to laugh.

“Are you gonna get to the point already?” you asked him.

He laughed. “You want my cock, you pig? Fuck - fucking whore wants my fat fucking cock, filling up his tight ass?”

“Oh, quit projecting on me,” you teased. “I bet you’d want me to fuck your ass, don’t you?”

He was speechless for a second, and you heard something that could be him swallowing hard over the phone. His response was barely audible. “Maybe. Y- yeah.”

You smirked, you didn’t know if that would work. “Yeah, if I were there you know what I’d do?”

He took a shaky breath. “What?”

“I’d bend you over for me, yeah,” you said, voice low. You couldn’t believe you were actually doing this, but you brought the phone into your room, laying back on the bed, your hand back to stroke yourself through your pants. “If - if you’re wearing pants I’d rip them off, I don’t fucking care. I’d spread your cheeks and eat your ass.”

You thought back to something he said on a previous call. “You like tongue fucking, huh?” The only response you got was his breathing getting harder, the sounds of skin slapping against skin on the other end. Hook, line, and sinker.

“I’d fuck you on my tongue, fill you up with it, so you’re ready to take my fingers,” you continue. There was a strangled moan on the other end. “Start you off with one, I bet you’d want another just as fast. You’d beg for it, huh?”

“Fuck me,” he rasped.

“Someone’s a needy little... pig, huh?” you asked. He made a noise like he was choking, almost, which made you nervous for a second. But he seemed fine by the way he kept at it. Only thing that was being choked was his chicken on the other end of the line, you were sure. “What do you have to say to that?”

Click.

The only answer you got was a dial tone. That dick hung up on you!

Well, shit, you were already there, you may as well... You put the phone down and laid back, stroking your cock again. You had no idea what that guy looked like, but the sound of him moaning and touching himself over the phone was more than enough to get you off...

The rest of the day passed normally. Unsurprisingly, you got a good night’s sleep after that.

After another grueling day at the workplace, you got back to your apartment. Your roommate wasn’t there, but you saw that he left you a note on the counter explaining he was going to see his girlfriend again. That was fine by you, you... wouldn’t admit it, but you were maybe hoping for another call.

What you didn’t expect was how soon it would happen.

—

Billy watched the man walking up to the apartment complex, and slowly made his way to where he’d been staying. There was a surprisingly large storage room that had decent phone reception, and it was easy to steal from the building’s laundry room bit by bit if you knew what you were doing...

He waited and listened, drumming his fingers on his thighs. If he was quiet enough, he could just hear the sound of you unlocking and closing the door behind you. Click. Locked again.

Billy flipped open his phone and checked the time. 4:45. Okay, he’d give you maybe 7 minutes to get comfortable before he called. He flipped the phone closed, and grabbed something to occupy himself. It just was a broken Rubik’s cube he swiped from someone who visited a few weeks ago, but it was enough to keep him from getting tempted and getting to the main event before he even got you on the line with him. Well, that and to keep him from agonizing over it. He’d never had someone take over like that with him... he had plenty of people tell him to fuck himself, sure, but none so far that had told him they’d fuck him themselves.

None like you.

Eventually he gave up trying to solve it for real and just broke the pieces off, assembling it in the right colors. 4:55. Time enough for you.

He picked up the phone, leaning back on the wall, and dialed your number. Waiting for you to pick up, he fidgeted with his fly and undid his pants.

“Hello?” came your voice on the other end.

“I’ve been thinking about you, what you said,” he started up, groping his hardening cock.”How about I return the favor and fuck your tight fucking hole?”

Your voice was like honey to him. “Oh? Tell me about it, piggy.”

He gritted his teeth, grabbing his cock harder than he meant to. “You’re the pig, you- you took Billy’s call, you whore.”

“Fine by me,” you said, cool as a cucumber. “Tell me about it, Billy. If that’s your name.”

Billy bit his lip, doing his best to get his cock out with one hand. “Wanna - I wanna shove you against a wall, Turn you around, cover your mouth so your fucking roommate can’t hear you moaning for me. Grope your thighs, pull your goddamn hair, how about that?”

“Sounds good, but you know what really gets me going?” you asked. “I want you to bite me. Can you do that for me, Billy?”

“Yes,” he replied instantly. “Bite you so hard I leave fucking marks for fucking days. They’ll know you’re mine, mine, mine.” God, he was hard, his cock was leaking already, and he just used it to lube his hand as he stroked harder and faster.

“Oh? Why don’t you make me yours then? You wanna come in me?”

“Of course,” he replied, barely letting you finish. “I’m gonna fuck your tight little hole so hard you can’t fucking walk for days, everyone’s gonna hear you moan for me so hard, like a whore, Billy’s whore. Yes, I’m gonna fuck you sore, fuck you raw, fuck you senseless, come in your greedy fucking hole.”

He was close, he knew it. And for once you didn’t have a wise guy response for him! He barked out a laugh and imitated your voice almost perfectly. “What do you have to say to that?”

You didn’t respond fast enough, and it only made him cackle.

“I’m c-close, I’m gonna come,” he said. “Think about me flooding your tight little hole, you pig.”

He came, finally, and moaned into the phone for you. He played it up a little, for your benefit of course. He wouldn’t admit that was the hardest he’d come in a while.

You were close to follow him, and he sat there, panting, listening to you come down from your peak. He snickered. “Good piggy.”

“Same time tomorrow?” you asked, half joking.

“Yes,” he said instantly. “I’ll meet you, how about that?”

“Fuck yes, please,” you said. “Wait, how would you know where to meet me?”

Click.

Despite his abruptness, Billy was nothing if not a man of his word. Of course, you wouldn’t find that out until tomorrow...

[taesspark]

A Normal Friday Afternoon

drabble #1 from the Spellbound series

pairing: Jungkook x reader

genre: enemies to lovers (but mostly enemies so far oops), hogwarts au

word count: 2.2k 

warnings: violence (oc punches jungkook in the face), swearing

It’s a normal Friday afternoon at Hogwarts, meaning everyone is going insane. You wonder why Professor Snape even bothers teaching Potions right now since it doesn’t look like anyone is paying the slightest bit of attention. He even chose a hard potion for the class to make, individually this time. As if making it an individual assignment could stop a group of annoying 17-year-olds from wreaking havoc. 

You flicker your eyes in annoyance at Jeon Jungkook and his rowdy group of friends. They had created a game where they launch the ingredients into each others’ cauldrons, giving each other points based on how close it got. Usually you try to get along with your classmates, especially fellow Gryffindors, but Jungkook has always been the sole exception. There’s something about him that grates all of your nerves like a carrot. Maybe it’s the way he’s good at all the same things you are, but he makes it seem more effortless. Maybe it’s the way everyone thinks he’s so innocent and kind, when he’s been metaphorically (and literally) pulling on your hair since first year. 

It started with the little things. You were friendly to him, like you are to everyone, and as an 11-year-old, you had nothing to complain about. Something changed one day when you were walking past him in the hallway to class and he hit you with a hex that he hadn’t mastered yet. You remember falling to the ground in pain, watching your stinging flesh go boneless. And Jungkook? He was laughing.

You’re no less of a witch or a Gryffindor though. With your limp arm, you cast the strongest dancing hex you could muster. It worked, of course, and Jungkook was known as “Happy Feet” for at least another year for the way he danced around Hogwarts that day. 

It’s a memory you keep close, as a reminder to never trust the sweet smile and starry eyes of Jeon Jungkook. 

If you looked at all of the detentions you’ve served in your 6 years of being a Hogwarts student (and there are plenty), you’re sure 99% would have been from fighting with Jungkook, whether it’s yelling at him, cursing him, or swatting him with your broomstick in midair during Quidditch practice. Because of course he would join the Quidditch team at the same time you did. 

You’re not in the mood for fighting today, though. You’re exhausted from a frankly awful week, and you just want to finish your stupid potion, get your stupid grade, and go to your stupid dorm so you can sleep. 

Your only good friend in this potions class is a Ravenclaw girl named Nina. For a Ravenclaw, she’s chatty, and she flits around you while you grind up asphodel root for your potion. With a quick slide of your knife, you dump the crushed root into your potion. It bubbled. Beside you, Nina bubbled even more, her personality like soda that had been shaken too hard. 

“-and then Emilia told me that she asked Irene if she would go with her to Hogsmeade next weekend, but Irene said she’s already going with Jieun, but Sam told me that Jieun is going alone, so what’s even the truth? You’d think that she’d at least-” 

“Maybe you should mind your business.” You give her a sour look, and you hope it isn’t too harsh. “Just a thought.” 

Nina’s mouth curls into a rueful smile. “You’re spending too much time with Yoongi lately.” 

You crack a smile at the thought of your best friend and his (only partly true) reputation. No one dares cross Min Yoongi, a 7th year Slytherin with a killer poker face. As one of his best friends, you can see right through it. 

“There’s no such thing as too much time with Yoongi,” you grumble. 

Nina leaves you alone after that, thank god. You usually have a higher tolerance for her chattiness and gossip, but today your patience is running thin. Luckily, she knows you well enough to not seem upset at your attitude. 

You sprinkle a serum into the potion before stirring it clockwise ten times. It’s the last step of the potion, and yours is already turning the perfect shade of mint green. You count to yourself as you stir: One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight-

You don’t make it to ten. You were so goddamn close. 

“Oh, shit-”

You don’t register who curses. All you can see is a bottle of serum—someone else’s bottle of serum— being launched straight into your cauldron, and your entire potion splattering onto your front. Your robes sizzle where the potion hit them. 

“Oops.” 

You recognize that voice. How could you not? You almost want to laugh. 

Fucking Jeon Jungkook. 

The leech lumbers up to you sheepishly, scratching at the back of his head. “My bad. We were playing a game, and I missed pretty bad.” 

He chuckles a little, surveying the green ooze all over you. “Green is your color, Y/N. Maybe they should’ve put you in Slytherin.” 

You’re seething. 

A temper is not one of the traits associated with Gryffindor, but at that moment, you think maybe it should be. Lions do roar, after all. 

And roar is exactly what you do. Roar and knock Jungkook the fuck out. 

The room is in chaos: Professor Snape is yelling, Nina is telling you to calm down, Jungkook is on the ground in front of you, more shocked than hurt, and half the class is chanting “Fight!” because the adolescent urge to create violence never truly dies. 

“Take this outside!” Snape shouts at the two of you, grabbing you both by the collar of your robes. “Fight in the hallways, I don’t care, but this is not going to happen in my classroom. When you’re done, head to McGonagall’s office. I’m sure she’d like to have a word with you two delinquents.” 

Jungkook stares at you, rubbing at the bruise blooming on his cheek. 

The door swings closed, slamming in your face. With a huff, you turn around and vanish the potion residue still left on your clothes with a quick spell. You barely spare a glance for Jungkook. He stands several feet away, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. 

“Do you have something to say?” You snap. 

He opens his mouth. Then closes it. 

You roll your eyes. “Listen, Jeon. I know you did that on purpose. Very funny prank, absolutely hilarious. Truly, I’m rolling on the floor laughing right now.” 

Jungkook’s eyes drop to the floor as if he expected to see you there, laughing. 

“Let’s just go to McGonagall’s already,” you say, posture slumping at the thought of being yelled at by the intimidating professor.  

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” he says. Jungkook rolls his shoulders, and you see him gain some of his usual bravado. “We were playing a game, I already explained this to you.” 

You bark out a laugh, just one. “I’m not stupid.” 

He cocks a brow. “Are you sure? I bet my potion was better than yours even though I was dicking around for the entire class.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“Hit a nerve?” 

“No.” 

It’s like this, for the long, long, long trek from the dungeons to Gryffindor tower where McGonagall’s office is. 

“You know, you don’t have to be such an asshole all the time,” you say, turning the corner. Jungkook jogs after you to keep up. 

“I don’t? No way, all this time I thought it was mandatory.” 

He sounds more upset than snarky, and in your present state of blind rage, you don’t have a single clue why he would be upset. He’s the one who ruined your potion and got you sent to McGonagall’s office. He’s the one who has been a splinter the size of Greenland in your thumb for five years and counting. 

“Besides,” he adds, as if you wanted to have a conversation with him, “you’re the one who fucking punched me in the face. It’s kinda hypocritical to call me an asshole in this situation.” 

“That’s a really big word, Jungkook. Did you finally learn how to read?” 

Jungkook’s face crumples into a frown. “Shut up.” 

“Hit a nerve?” You mock. 

You think getting to McGonagall’s office is a relief until you’re finally there. McGonagall is all but screeching at the two of you. You’ve heard the same lecture several hundred times, but never in such a high pitch. You offer to make her some herbal tea for her throat, and she only gives you the evil eye. Jungkook snorts beside you. You ignore him, nudging him in the ribs with your elbow. 

“Never in my days…”

“...Such stupidity from my own students!”

You fade in and out of consciousness during the lecture, and one look at Jungkook tells you he’s doing the same. 

“Detention for both of you. I will see the two of you here at 9 pm sharp every day for the rest of the week,” McGonagall finally says. 

Jungkook groans. 

“I’m being generous,” McGonagall says. “If I see the two of you acting like violent animals again, I can and will suspend you both from the Gryffindor Quidditch team.” 

You and Jungkook both make sounds of protest, only to be drowned out by McGonagall. 

“I hate to see my own team lose, but it has been five years of your childish fights. You two will learn to be civil to each other, and I will make sure of it.” 

The tone of her voice makes you uneasy. Jungkook beats you to the question that’s on both of your minds. “What are you going to do to us?” 

The fear in his voice would make you smile if you weren’t practically shaking in your boots yourself. 

“As you know, in Transfiguration, I am going to be having everyone work in teams this year. I was going to let you choose your partners, but you two have not earned that privilege.” 

You turn to face Jungkook. He’s staring back at you in wide-eyed horror. 

“You both are now partners in Transfiguration. Sit by each other and complete the projects together. I will not tolerate any misbehaving in my class, and if you don’t work as a team, you will be risking your own grades.” McGonagall stares at the two of you with the smallest of smiles, disgustingly smug. She’s enjoying this, and you hate her for it. 

“But-”

“Professor!” 

“I won’t hear it!” She shouts. Jungkook recoils. “This is final. If you have a problem, you should’ve thought about that before brawling like wrestlers in Potions.” 

You hang your head, staring at how the end of your robes skims your shoes. You don’t like to be dramatic, but this sure feels like the end of the world. The rest of your year is probably ruined, thanks to McGonagall essentially sentencing you to Jungkook duty. Not to mention Transfiguration is your hardest class, even without having to compete with Jungkook. You don’t doubt that this would make everything so much harder. 

“That’s all I have to say to you. Please leave,” McGonagall says, pressing a thumb and index finger into her forehead. 

The two of you file out of her office, stumbling down the empty hallway. You walk in silence, thankful that classes aren’t out yet. You stop a few corridors down, and Jungkook stops next to you.

You look at him, really look at him. Other than the bruise on his face a la you, he has a sweet face and kind eyes. You remind yourself that it’s fake. 

You take a step closer to him, and he tilts his head at you, nonplussed. 

“Y/N?” 

You brush a hand on his cheekbone, where you hit him. 

“Does it hurt?” You ask. 

The hallway is empty, but Jungkook still looks both ways before responding to you, as if you were a car hurtling towards him on the street. He gulps at your proximity to him, how he can feel your breath mingling with his own and your fingertips’ gentle pressure on his face. 

“A little,” he says, quieter than you. “You really know how to use your fists, huh?” 

He laughs. To your ears, it sounds forced. You smile. Checkmate. 

Without warning, you grab his tie and jerk his face down to yours, leaving just a breath of space between your noses. You lean even closer to Jungkook, and a smile ghosts your lips when you feel him moving closer to you at the same time. You wait for one more moment, letting your warm breath hit his skin. The moment he closes his eyes, you whisper, “Good.” 

His eyes flutter back open, confused, and you take your foot and slam it down on his. He all but howls in pain, nearly knocking his head into yours as he hops away. 

"What was that for?"

"If you still don't know, then maybe I need to step on you again." You narrow your eyes at him, still close enough to register the clean linen smell of his clothes. “Do not cross me again. I need a good grade in Transfiguration this year, and I won’t let you ruin that for me.” 

"McGonagall is right there. I could go tell her," he threatens. His eyes are wide, and you pick up on the slightest fear under his façade of arrogance. 

"Okay, do it. See if I care, asshole." 

You spin on your heel and storm down the corridor, leaving a stunned Jungkook in your wake. 

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Ch. 1

Shigaraki Birthday Week! MINORS DNI DO NOT PUT THIS ON TIKTOK

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: reader is marked fem cause Tomura is a little sexist and hates you cause you’re a woman, no pronouns, incel!shiggy, collage au/no quirks, tomura is an asshole, gratuitous swearing, like so much, shiggy has a dirty mouth, mentions of shigs being anxious, let me know if I’ve missed something

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: Tomura gets stuck taking an English class to graduate and is partnered with you, a bitchy try hard (his words not mine) for his final project. But over the course of the semester he finds that while he hates everyone, he might hate you just a little...less. 

AO3 mirror

The door at the back of the room creaked open and jarred Tomura from his half-sleep state. He didn’t look at who’d bothered to slip into this fucking class late, and instead tried to let the prof’s inane droning on Timothy Whoever The Fuck’s 18th weirdo letter book lull him into day dreaming. 

He only made it about a quarter of the way back into his boredom induced coma until he was dragged unwillingly into wakefulness once more. 

“Sorry, could you plug this in for me?” 

Tomura jumped again when you leaned over to whisper to him, computer charger in one hand, gesturing to the outlet on the wall by his head. You’d left the typical courtesy seat empty between the two of you and he stared blankly at the way you leaned your weight on the vacant chair. 

He recognized you.

The classic, dumbass teacher's pet who was always front and center of the room, iced drink at the ready looking like you belonged on the set of some god awful college b movie. 

Well, almost always. You certainly had that loud ass drink, but you’d tucked yourself at the end of his row towards the back of the room and was clearly a bit embarrassed for bursting in almost 15 minutes late. 

Tomura swallowed hard as your shirt gaped in the front. It took an immense amount of control to not gaze outright into the swell of your chest. 

“You good?” you asked softly, head cocked like you were straight out of a fucking manga panel—tits on display with that stupid innocent, puzzled expression.  

“Uh yeah, sorry,” Tomura mumbled. 

You offered him this gross, clearly fake smile—because why the hell would you be grinning like that if it wasn’t just because you wanted something from him—as he threaded the cord behind his chair and plugged it in. 

“Thanks,” you replied and turned back towards the professor, typing away cause you actually take notes in this class. 

Of fucking course you did. 

Probably trying to impress everyone with how you typed practically every word the prof said. Tomura decidedly did not take notes, and didn’t really pay that much attention in general. Usually he just played some trashy phone game under the desk or dozed with his head against the cement wall. 

It had gotten to that portion of the semester when it was warmer outside but the buildings still had the heat cranked all the way up, especially here in the basement where the classroom was. That environment along with his usual hoodie/joggers combo created grade A napping conditions that Tomura took full advantage of. 

As a rule, he actually cared about school and he did relatively well. But this was just some dumbass liberal arts requirement course that had nothing to do with his actual major, so he was perfectly fine with coasting. Why his comp sci degree required him to take a fucking Restoration era English class, he had no clue. Apparently neither did his advisor other than that the ‘administration recommended it’ so their students would have a ‘well rounded learning experience.’ 

It was almost certainly just a cash grab to make him take more credits than was necessary to graduate, but whatever. He was here now. And so were you. Your presence was overwhelmingly clear, typing away and smelling like one of those insanely specific laundry detergent label scents—fucking rolling meadows and grandmother’s clean linen or something like that. 

He’d never sat this close to you before, but that didn’t stop you from annoying the shit out of him for the previous whole half semester and going since it was just now passing midterms. Long enough for him to have pegged you as a textbook try-hard, pick-me bitch. You contributed to discussion at every opportunity, turned in shit early, and debated other classmates regularly enough to disrupt his in-course sleep schedule. 

The way you dressed pissed him off too, with a particular style that was enough to stand out but not so over the top that it would cause disinterest from any potential mates.

And now you were filling his corner of the room with the overpowering smell of freshly washed hair and demanding he do things for you. 

Fucking disgusting. 

“Tomura Shigaraki.”

He jumped a third time, attention directed from his lap to the front of the room where the prof stood, listing out names from the board. He heard your name next followed by Kai Chisaki. The list was projected on the board as well, grouping everyone into twos or threes with “Final Project Partners” listed in bold Helvetica font at the top. 

Only fucking English profs used Helvetica. 

He vaguely remembered mentions of a final presentation—one of like three grades in this class cause the prof was almost certainly a sadist. 

No, not almost—definitely. Otherwise he wouldn’t have stuck him with you and that weirdo Kai pre-med student who insisted on acting so elitist you’d think he already had his fucking M.D. 

One time he asked Tomura to move seats at the start of the semester because he looked “dirty” and Kai liked to sit in the back—which, fair enough, it wasn’t like Tomura showered as frequently as he probably should but what the fuck??  

With you rushing in late, chest out and panting every now and again from your apparent sprint across campus, Tomura was certain he’d be subjected to a whole 6 weeks of watching you try to mount that fucking Kai dude instead of actually working. 

This was going to be a nightmare. 

From the end of the table, he saw you shifting and turned to find that stupid fucking smile flashed his way once again. 

If you had a tail, he’d bet it would be wagging. 

“Hey, well that’s convenient,” you chuckled and plopped down directly next to him, sliding your noisy ass drink across the table with you and brushing against his thigh when you shifted your bag to the side. 

“Yeah,” he nodded.

It most certainly was not. 

But Tomura would never say that because—as his roommate put it so kindly—he was kinda a pussy. 

People made him nervous, they always had. That’s why he liked computers so much. Code made sense, there were clear rules and when something didn’t work out, he could fix it eventually, but you couldn’t see people’s codes. You had to fucking guess at shit and it made his anxiety skyrocket which the sides of his neck and finger tips suffered for. 

So he cowered like the fucking dog you probably thought he was instead and kept his eyes on the floor, letting you set up in silence. 

“Who was our third?” you asked, glancing around the room. “Sorry, I was busy making a shared drive and I came in  late so I missed that last bit.”

Why the hell did you feel the need to apologize all the goddamn time? Seriously, who would believe you were actually sorry for being irritating as hell. 

And god if he thought you were irritating. 

“Kai,” he grumbled simply as the man in question sauntered over to the table and fucking Clorox wiped down the seat before sitting.  

Tomura watched your smile falter just a bit and grinned inwardly at the slip in your fake little persona. But you didn’t say anything more, just moved your chair back so the three of you were in a semi-circle and pulled up a few pdfs on your laptop. 

“Cool, so I was looking over the directions on the syllabus last week and I set up a little work delegation thing so we can distribute everything pretty evenly,” you jumped right in, tone matter of fact in the down-to-business manner he was used to hearing from you during class discussions. 

It was better than you so clearly forcing yourself to be overly polite, and he honestly couldn’t really care less if you wanted to take charge of this thing. You seemed kinda bossy, but he begrudgingly admitted that your suck up behavior did mean you sort of knew what you were talking about. He was just here to pass and you might actually make that a lot easier. 

It was okay as long as he was taking advantage of you, he told himself. And you would be too stupid to notice, so he could play your game and play pretend nice all the way to an A. 

That walking condescension on the other hand— 

“I’m not doing that,” Kai huffed through his ever-present mask. 

Tomura wasn’t actually sure he’d ever seen the bastards face without it. 

“What?” you laughed awkwardly. “Yes you are, you don’t really have much of a choice.” 

You stared at your classmate who simply stared right back with his own, equally confused expression. 

“Why do you look so surprised?” you asked after a moment of silence. 

You weren’t smiling anymore and your voice had dropped down about a fucking octave. At least you sounded more like a person and not some wannabe uwu gamer bitch.

“People don’t talk to me like that,” Kai looked at you down his nose, legs spread wide and elbow resting on his knees. 

Tomura could feel the pretentiousness wafting from him in waves, and waited with bated breath for you to get kicked off your pedestal. Just a bit though, he did need you around to do most of his work for this thing. 

But in a shocking turn of events, you just laughed dryly twice and turned back to your laptop screen, mumbling as you did. 

“Really? Well they should.” 

Tomura would have laughed too, but he didn’t feel like inflating your ego. Kai on the other hand looked a bit like you’d just spit on shoes and furrowed those stupid, plucked thin eyebrows at the back of your head. 

“So Tomura, you code right?” you asked, turning away from Kai completely to address him. “I just remember you saying you were in comp sci when we did introductions.” 

He was taken aback by the knowledge that he existed as a person in your head outside of this room for a moment and simply nodded—suddenly feeling far too hot in his black on black sweats and hoodie. 

God just talking to you made his skin burn. 

“Great, cause we’re allowed to chose the medium we present in and I was thinking of taking it in a more creative direction cause I’ve had this prof before and he eats that shit up,” you begin to ramble again, scrolling through a bulleted list, shifting the screen for him to see. 

“Right,” he murmured, still surprised you’d thought this far and not...actively hating what you’d brainstormed. 

Well, it was a bit juvenile and you clearly didn’t know what you were talking about but the concept wasn’t horrendous. He could work with that and it shouldn’t be too hard. It kinda seemed like you’d overestimated a bit with how challenging it would actually be and saddled yourself with most of the heavy lifting. That or you were just a control freak which was a little more believable.

He wished you would stop looking at him over the edge of the screen. He could feel himself starting to sweat. Rivulets falling down the nape of his neck and racing across his bare chest under the sweatshirt. Tomura sorta regretted not wearing a shirt underneath but he knew that he wouldn’t have taken off the insulating layer even if that had been an option. 

It would just mean you had more drying, pale as fuck skin to look at and judge him for because he knew that’s what you were doing. Fucking vapid and shallow like everyone else. 

“It’s really rough so far, but I have it the gist outlined,” you indicated to another tab and then turned back to Kai who had been sitting silently glaring daggers into your back. “So, Kai, since you’re in STEM I figured you’d be okay with doing more of the preliminary research—”

“I don’t think so,” Kai interrupted, shaking his head and pushing off his knees to lean back in the cheap, plastic seat. “Look, it’ll be easier for all of us if you two just make it look pretty and I can handle the oral presentation.” 

You gaped and looked to Tomura with this pathetic fucking incredulous stare, like you thought he’d back you up. 

Which actually, now that he thought about it was probably a good idea—he did need you to remain somewhat cordial with him—but he certainly didn’t care enough to defend you in any way. Kai was a dick, sure, but he wasn’t gonna let you rope him into being your white knight or whatever. 

He settled for a similarly disgruntled downward twitch of his lips. The movement pulled at the cracking skin which stung as it tore open even more. Tomura felt the familiar crawling feeling on his neck and shifted in his seat to resist the urge to scratch. 

He couldn’t pinpoint why exactly you staring at him was so uncomfortable. He didn’t like you, he didn’t care about you and by extension didn’t give two shits what you thought of him, but anything he might have said shriveled on his tongue when you spoke or looked in his eyes too long. 

Tomura had never made a habit of talking to females and they certainly had never wanted anything to do with him either. 

Maybe he was fucking allergic or something. 

Whatever the case, you seemed to take his half frown as a sign of solidarity and leaned back in your own seat. 

“Okay, look,” you retorted. “If you’re seriously not gonna at least try to cooperate, then there is actually an option to do the project by yourself and I suggest you take it.” 

The look on your face was distinctly impolite. There was a sharpness to the set of your jaw that Tomura had never seen before, but it looked practiced enough that he could bet it was simply the snake that resided in every woman just waiting to come out. 

“Look sweetheart—” that masked jerk began, also for some fucking reason looking to Tomura for support. 

For someone who was very much used to blending into the background scenery, this was the most eye contact Tomura had ever made in a day. 

Except on the rare occasions his roommate had friends over and he had to make the dreaded trek from his room to reach the fridge. 

“Oh yeah I’m not doing that,” you closed your laptop sharply and rolled your eyes. “I get it, but I’m really just trying to graduate. I don’t think this is going to work out and you,” Tomura froze as you shifted your gaze to him once again, “seem okay, so Tomura and I can just work this out by ourselves and you can find a different group.” 

Kai scoffed behind the black layer of fabric covering his mouth and slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Whatever.” 

Tomura watched him saunter straight out the door as the room was filled with the shuffling of notebooks and zipping of backpacks. 

“God,” you huffed and turned back to him. 

His raw skin burned under the new wave of heat and accompanying moisture that slicked his skin when you scooted closer to him. That clean laundry and shampoo smell was suffocating from this proximity. 

Did you fucking bathe in the stuff? 

He was becoming increasingly aware of his less than pleasant aroma and the fact that you not scrunching your nose up in disgust just out of some stupid, ingrained need to appease him. 

“Well, that was...weird,” you chuckled in a way that was probably meant to break the tension. 

Unfortunately Tomura felt more like he was about to break out in hives if you came any closer so it really just ended up making the atmosphere ten times more awkward. At least for him. You, somehow, remained resolutely unaware. 

“Mhm,” he hummed in response and picked silently at the skin of his fingers. 

“Anyway, I have a meeting in a few but we can trade numbers and pick a time to meet up sometime tomorrow maybe?” you suggested, quickly saving the steadily degrading vibes of the conversation and pulled out your phone. 

He really hated the full body pulsation that rushed through him at the thought of getting a girls number. It made him fucking sick at himself for falling into your stupid trap to get him interested. Was your plan to just use him to get a good grade or whatever and then block his texts?

It wasn’t like Tomura didn’t know about his status as the class ‘freak.’ That one guy everyone whispers about and makes sure not to sit next to. And he knows you know, so why the hell else would you act so nice?

He wanted to say something scathing in return. That he could do the whole thing by himself too—which he definitely couldn’t but that was irrelevant—and that he didn’t need you bossing him around either. 

“Sure thing,” he said instead and took your offered phone all too eagerly, typing in his number and watching as you shot off a text back so he’d have yours. 

His phone buzzed against his thigh and he jumped a fourth time, but you seemed not to notice as you packed your bag and grabbed your basic ass drink. The ice clattered against the tumbler, dropping cool condensation against the searing skin of his hand. 

Tomura shivered as you waved over your shoulder and slipped out the door with another rush of students. 

He sat silently in the empty room for a moment, trying to process the last hour. He pinched himself idly, wondering if it had all been just a weird dream, but the results were inconclusive. A minute or two passed before he pulled out his phone to scroll through the list of reddit and discord notifs to find your text. 

Unknown Number:

— pEopLe DoN’t TaLK tO mE liKE ThAt 

— not very plus ultra of him...smh

— anyway, library at 6 tomorrow ?

 Tomura caved, digging his nails into the side of his neck and hissed at the pain, confirming the day's horrible reality. 

[yourmcu]

Emotional Support Mode

Pairings: Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Summary:

in which the reader is the loner, antisocial daughter of Tony Stark and the other Avengers including her father never acknowledge her presence (they thought some sort of interaction made you uncomfortable) so she becomes friends with Friday instead - Tony probs finds out and it’s gonna be all cute n fluffie once he realizes -

Word count: 2,243

a/n: hi just wanted to write fluffy tony :)) also I used they/them for friday’s pronouns

Warnings: angst n fluff, friday’s a bit more advanced (not like they aren’t already but) bc they could almost act like a literal human here.

read it on ao3!

You arrive back at the Avengers facility, shoulders slumped and just tired in general since you have a lot of homework and projects to do from school, most of them due by the end of the week. You also have exams later in the week.

“Hey, Fri,” you huff as you make your way to the elevator.

“Welcome home, Y/N. Where do you want to go?”

Yes, you're very close with the A.I that they started calling you by your first name. “To my room - and uh, will you remind me to read two chapters in my history book after I’m done with all my homework? I also have this project, I just need some measurements later, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure thing.”

“Thank you.”

It’s going to be a long night, you sigh heavily just thinking about it. Now you’re probably wondering, ‘you live with the Avengers! Why don’t you ask Tony and Bruce for help? Maybe Steve and Bucky for your History test?’

Yeah, well... you barely talk to any real person you live with. Maybe it’s you, you always thought you're making the team uncomfortable. You don’t even talk to your own father often which is kind of depressing on your part.

You love them, they’re like your extended family, but it just isn’t working out. Maybe they just don’t like you. Up to this day you still wonder why Tony took you in when you were just a baby (you were a mistake from one of his one night stands) - he had the choice not to.

“I’m assuming you zoned out again. You have arrived to your room five minutes ago.” Friday announces.

“Y-yeah sorry,” you shuffle out of the elevator and swiftly head to your bedroom, closing the door behind you.

“I also asked if I should inform Mr. Stark that you have arrived home.”

“No, no thanks. He’s busy and... probably wouldn’t care anyway,” You mutter the last part as you pile the books you need on your desk. “Can you put my study playlist on, please?”

----

“What time is it, Friday?”

“7PM. I was about to remind you to take a break.”

You get up from your chair and stretch, halfway through the last of your homework which is a two page essay. “You’re too kind, thanks pal,” when you walk out your room to head to the kitchen and grab a snack, the lounge is empty, kitchen empty,

“The team’s on a mission? I thought they had the whole week off,” you say before gulping down a water bottle.

“I checked the security footage: they left about an hour ago. Captain Rogers was talking about getting dinner.”

You put the bottle down. “Oh,” you try to mask your disappointment. This isn’t your first time being alone, they always left you here when they had a mission of course but... well, it’s not like they want you around them. “I’ll - I’ll just make myself something later, then. Not a big deal. I have to study anyway.”

Another hour later, the Avengers are back. They're all conversing happily as they pile in the lounge. Peter's rambling about upgrades for the Spiderman suit while Tony's typing away in his phone, nodding at everything he says. Everyone else is arguing about the TV channels and talking about the new restaurant they ate at.

Rhodey shifts, looking around. “Why do I feel like we forgot something?”

Natasha looks at him, waiting for him to go on.

“I assure you, I brought Mjolnir with me this time.” Thor butts in.

“No not that, what time does Y/N get home from school?” No one answers. It’s not like any of them know. It's natural that Rhodey would be worried about his goddaughter (even if they rarely talk). He turns his head to his best friend who’s now walking away with Peter, an arm around his shoulder. “Tony, where’s Y/N?”

He doesn’t hear since he has his full attention on his protégé.

“I’ll start making this tomorrow, I guess. I still have to buy materials.” You mumble to yourself, but you hope Friday's listening to everything you say just to make you feel less lonely. You swipe the hologram of the blueprint away and place the thick books in front of you.

“I would like to recommend a suitable study plan.” they state.

You rub your eyes, sighing, “I’m already halfway, I would’ve considered it earlier though.”

“This is only a recommendation, feel free to ignore it.”

You push yourself away from the desk and mutter a “go on,”, fiddling with your pen.

“Asking Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes would give you more details for your History examination, since the pair were originally from that time period. The same goes for Mr. Banner for your Science examination, I believe he has seven Ph.D’s, you may also approach Vision for the same topic. Mr. Stark has all the necessary materials for your project in his lab. Would you like me to-”

If only it were that easy. It should be easy, the thought alone makes you really nervous. “No, I - I appreciate the recommendation, Friday, but - I think I can do this on my own.”

“But you’re tired and it is almost midnight. I would help you myself but you specifically told me not to.”

They’re not wrong. Your eyes are starting to droop and you barely understand anything you're reading. You're also fighting back tears - why is talking to your family so hard?

“I can sense sadness. Would you like me to activate emotional support mode?”

“Yeah, okay. That sounds great right about now.”

----

“Crap. Guess we lost track of time again, kid,” Tony wipes his hands with a rag while he looks at the time on his computer. “You better get home. I’ll send May a text for keeping you this late.”

“Okay, thank you Mr. Stark. I’m just gonna use my suit-”

“No. Happy will drive you.”

Peter knew better than to argue and insist so he just nods and smiles sheepishly. A minute later Happy came ‘round to take him home.

Tony turns back around. “Friday, make a new project for me please, I’m adding minor upgrades to the Spiderman suit.”

“Not now, boss.”

Oh. He did not expect that. “Excuse me?”

“Y/N is currently opening up. I would like to give her my full, undivided attention. Please come back after fifteen minutes or so.”

Tony doesn’t exactly know how to feel about that. He never sees her outside her room anymore that he kinda forgot she existed tonight - oh fuck, they didn’t bring her to dinner with them.

“Well,” he exhales. “What is she saying?”

“That would be an invasion of privacy.”

“I’m her father-”

“Are you, sir?” Friday’s clever remark makes him stop abruptly.

It’s pretty clear that he’s been a shit father. Not only does he ignore you all the time but he treats Peter way better than his own flesh and blood. The Avengers on the other hand, they were nice people, but just didn’t understand so they try their best to get out of your way.

You were afraid of rejection, afraid to interact, because you had no idea what everyone thought of you. Did they like you? Did you make them uncomfortable? Did they want you around? What about Tony, did he really want a daughter in his life? Because you noticed he’d be better off with a son, yeah, like Peter goddamn Parker.

Tony sighs, walking out of his lab and heads to the mini bar to grab a drink. He needs to think: there's absolutely nothing wrong about you, he just didn’t do his job right, you thought he didn’t care, you thought nobody did. Even Friday is turning against him, doing a better job of comforting and being there for you.

“God, I’m such an asshole,” he mutters to himself, rubbing his forehead. He drinks his last shot and heads to the kitchen. “She still awake?” He calls out.

“She is.” Friday has a bitter tone.

He's hesitant to ask again, feeling really bad for not knowing this simple question - “what’s her favorite beverage?”

----

“How do you feel?”

You sniffle. “Well y’know, better than before. I should probably go to sleep. Thanks, Fri.”

“You’re welcome. Also, Mr. Stark is outside your door.”

“W-what?” You put away your books and straighten up, rubbing your damp eyes. “You’re serious? Okay, uh, let him in?” It's more of a question.

“Alright.”

You turn to face your desk as Tony enters the room, holding two steaming mugs. He sits at the end of your bed, just right next to the chair you're sitting on. “Hi,” he gives you a small smile and hands you a mug.

What’s the occasion?

“What’s this?” You ask quietly before taking the mug from his hands. Tony's being gentle and soft, it's odd but you’re not complaining.

“Green tea with honey. I... I thought I saw you make that stuff once.” He says, not mentioning the fact that Friday told him that.

“Oh, well, yeah,” you take a small sip. He added a bit too much honey but other than that it was good. “I thought you preferred coffee, though,”

Tony shrugs, his eyes glistening when he looks at you. “Wouldn’t hurt to try something new.”

“Did - did you want something, Dad?” You always found yourself awkward, couldn’t even make conversation with someone for long, always wanted to get straight to the point so it could be over with.

He looks like he wants to say something but he just averts his gaze to you, his hands, the floor, then suddenly he leans in and hugs you. Your feel your heart swell and body warm up, it’s a new sensation for you after all, you rarely get hugs from people. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “For everything. I’m such a bad dad, I don’t deserve you. I even forgot you when we went out to dinner.”

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything. I had loads of stuff to do earlier anyway, so, but yeah I was just - I just overreact, I’m sensitive. I don’t blame you and the others for not liking me, I know there’s nothing like-able about me, I’m not like Peter-” You ramble, tears now leaving your eyes again.

“Sweetheart, don’t say that,” Tony says as he pulls you closer to him, head resting against his chest while he rubs your back comfortably. “Y/N Stark, you are smart, brilliant - I was just an ass for not acknowledging that.”

“I know you’re just saying that to-”

“Oh, but I’m not,” he now places his hands on your shoulders, getting you to look at him. “Tell me who built their first engine when they were eight?”

You blush, “Dad-”

“No, come on, I wanna hear it.”

“I did.”

“Yes you did. And who made a completely functioning robot at their middle school science fair that blew all the teacher’s minds?”

You’re trying to hide a smile, recalling the memory,  “I did.”

“And who,” Tony gets up and walks to the bulky looking thing that you covered with a sheet, pulling it off, “is currently building a computer from scratch?”

“Dad! That’s still a work in progress,” he messily places the sheet back and chuckles.

“My point is, you’re a clever and talented girl, Y/N. Don’t bring yourself down. And you don’t have to be shy around your family, those idiots have been dying to get to know you but since you don’t talk much... they don’t want to force it. We love you,” he says. “I hope you forgive me ‘cause I really wanna make it up to you. I’m not calling Peter in for a few weeks.” Tony sits down beside you again.

You couldn’t believe he’d do that for you. “You don’t have to, if you need him for something then-”

“-then you could help me instead, if you’re up for it.”

“I’m really sorry for being such a lonely freak,” you yawn, getting back into Tony’s open arms. “I love you.”

Tony tucks you in and lies down beside you, “I love you tons, kiddo.”

You snuggle into his chest, feeling his steady breathing while he rests his chin above your head.

----

It's morning. The Avengers are gathered at your open bedroom door.

“Are you getting all of this, Friday?”

“Yes, Ms. Romanoff.”

“Steve turn that shuttering sound down!” Natasha hisses at the super soldier who's doing his task, taking pictures.

Steve almost drops the phone and has Bruce fix the volume for him.

They’re all watching you and Tony cuddle together, still fast asleep.

“Do we have to stay here until they wake up?”

“Unless you have a great way of waking them up, yes. Now shut up.”

“If you think about it we definitely look creepy right now.” Sam comments.

“It’s their fault for having the door wide open all night!” Clint says.

Tony's actually awake the whole time, listening to them bickering. “You have three seconds to get the hell out of here before I make all of you polish my suits.” With that, the team races down the hall, pushing each other to get away first like literal children.

[huenjin]

unhooking a bra for dummies.

pairing: han jisung x reader

word count: 6k words

genre: smut

tw: use of swear words and name calling out of sheer affection, detailed sexual content — hickeys, breast play, nipple play, fingering, cunnilingus, clitoral stimulation, overstimulation, multiple orgasm, squirting, blowjob, deep throating, gagging, penetration, creampie.

note: this fic has been rewritten/reconcepted from my previous bts fic, the idiot's guide to unhook a bra.

The last time your boyfriend tries to remove your bra one handed, you are glad it is on your body and not his. Not with his strong history of trying to learn how to untie bras by wearing them and then snapping them only to ruin your pretty collection.

The last time your boyfriend tries to remove your bra one handed, it's on your request.

Not because you wanted Jisung to learn (not that it isn't a win-win situation) but mostly because you were so sex deprived from your boyfriend for two weeks now, thanks to his competitive arse. Thanks to his determination of wanting to learn how to remove a bra single handedly because some stupid magazine said it was cool.

Also because the movie was boring and your boyfriend seemed a lot more interesting than the movie's horrible direction.

You're on top of Jisung's lap, kissing down his neck, telling him to focus on how he's feeling and how he'd feel rather than being so competitive to remove the bra. Jisung pulls back and mumbles, "How does that work?"

"You've tried it enough for two weeks," you kiss him. "It's going to work."

"Is this a test?"

"Consider it," you sigh. "You're really killing the mood again, boy," you frown, before straightening up your spine and looking at him, "It's just a bra. Why are you so goddamn hung up over it?"

He confesses finally, "Because I saw some stupid article the day after I said everything. It told me that girls love it and that it'd make them happy."

Figures. You called out on this a week back.

You cup Jisung's face, a bit taken aback by his response, "But you make me happy either way."

"I—"

"Sungie," you press your forehead against his, smiling at how your boyfriend's eyes sparkle so brightly, "You're still going to be my star always. My sunshine."

You kiss Jisung, laughing against his lips when he coos at you. His hands are warm against that long brown sweater – way too long for you – you have always borrowed from him. He kisses you, his hands making way under his sweater, trailing slowly upwards as he draws out his kiss.

You know what he's trying to do and you choose to ignore, praying to all the gods out there that your boyfriend succeeds. He places his fingers on one side of the clasp and your thumb on the other. He moves towards your neck, peppering kisses against so as to distract you. He pinches both the sides together, sliding the right side against the left, freeing hooks from the eyelets. He pulls back from you, lips leaving your skin, at the same time your bra is undone.

"Bro," he stretches the syllable and you laugh, eyes wrinkling, commenting, "You sound like a white teenager."

"And you don't when you do?"

"Touché."

"But I did it," he screams, hugging you tight. The intensity at which he is joyous almost makes it seem like he won something great but that's Jisung for you. "I did it!"

"You did, baby! You did."

He kisses you again. Your boyfriend is so happy that he is smiling against your lips, breaking the kiss but he doesn't care and nor do you. He cradles your face in his hands, pulling back and laughs, "Hey, maybe we can sex tonight after all."

"Oh fuck, don't kill the mood. The last thing I want is Jeongin's catchphrase right before me getting hammered by my boyfriend after weeks."

"Like you haven't mentioned you don't want him around once?"

You flail your hands upwards in defense only to wrap it around Jisung and kiss him shut, mumbling against his lips, "Not today." Your lips tug onto his lower ones, latching onto it before pulling back and gazing at him. You could see how beautiful he was - his rosy lips that are parted and his nose that is good enough to bop. Han Jisung is a beauty carved from the finest and you are glad to call him yours.

"Fuck," he swears under his breath. You smile widely, eyes turning into crescents as he gazes at you, mumbling, "You're all mine, wow. I'm a lucky lucky man." You laugh, mumbling, "Yeah, you are." and lift your hand. Stretching your index finger, you poked his head, pushing it back, parietal bone hitting the bed's headboard.

Jisung gulps, his eyes turning a shade darker. You lean forward, catching Jisung midway for a kiss. You hold his face, guiding and directing the kiss, being forceful and trying to show the dominance you clearly lacked. Jisung always leads and you're hoping he takes back the reins soon.

And he does. Just as you prayed. His hands are on your hips, gripping it harder, his leg wrapping over yours in one swift motion and he has you pinned under him, hot air fanning over your face and you're giggling. Jisung frowns at you before kissing your pinna and mumbling, pouting, "You lost weight, babe. You need to eat more."

"I've been busy with this project," you respond and brush his hair.

"I'll take you out for a fancy dinner tonight after this."

"You think we could go?"

"Uh huh," he kisses your neck, sucking on the skin lightly sending tingles down your spine. "We could. I want to treat my favorite girl to some sexy food."

"I love you."

He kisses you in response not so gently, immediately coaxing your mouth open to allow his tongue inside. His hands forget all about being slow and teasing, the stress of not having you for two weeks straight sending him desperate, running all over your body, before pausing.

"This one goes off," he tugs at his sweater that you are wearing, pulling it off of you only to gasp at your covered breasts. "That bra looks beautiful on you, fuck."

He stares at the wine purple bra hardly covering your breasts now that the strap was off, ready to fall off any minute from now. Jisung gapes at how beautiful they make your breasts look before tugging it off, mumbling, "I like you better without anything though."

One of his warm hands covers your breast, fingers slowly digging into the skin. His palm squeezes your breast, thumb running over your nipple before he purposefully leans down and gives you a taste of his warm mouth for the first time that night and in weeks now. You gape open at the contact of his mouth on your nipple, teeth purposely grazing against the skin.

"I missed you doing this," you gasp for air, hand holding onto his hair for grip and to angle him slightly. Jisung hasn't bothered every time you push yourself onto him, aching and craving for more. If anything, it's always made the bulge more prominent. "You stupid boy focussed on a thing that weren't necessary like unhooking a bra when we could — ah, fuck, Jisung." He rolls his tongue over your nipple, your hand tightening around his scalp, tugging at his hair furiously. "Yes!"

He lets go of your nipple only to raise himself upwards and hover over your face. He bites your bottom lip, small kitten licks before sucking it into his mouth and you respond with a weak whimper before pulling away, breathing loud and clear and vivid enough for your chest to rise and fall.

His large hands trace along your spine, his palms trailing along your covered flesh, the figure that's carved into his head, a memory attested forever that he's glad for. Every single one of his touches sets your skin aflame with desire. Heat settles deep within the deepest cores of your abdomen, the heat slowly trailing downward stimulating your glands to release secretions that make your panties cling to your core. You moan when you feel his hardening shaft against the soft of your abdomen, involuntarily grinding against it. Your movements cause him to let out a grunt, limited and constrained, and he groans out your name.

He moves lower, tugging at the straps of your panties with his teeth, grazing the skin around it, sending goosebumps sprouting. You laugh post the rush, "You're good at this though. Like really good, Jisung."

"I know," he laughs against your skin. "Need to have you keeping me around. What if you decided a vibrator's better than me?"

You laugh loudly, hand falling on your chest, "Pretty sure a vibrator can't kiss me and love me like you do, baby."

Your mouth parts open when he kisses you, his lips brushing against the skin covering the bones and you let out a set of breathy moans, heat pooling deep within your pubic region as you find yourself growing wetter when Jisung kisses you around your acetabulum. He tugs your panties down partially with his teeth, fingers helping him out till he gets completely away from your skin.

He lifts himself up, throwing his shirt away. Dipping his head down, his attention is back on his favorite spot on your neck by your prominent jugular. Jisung kisses your neck, whispering sweet nothings into you. His hand lowers and lands on your inner thighs, goosebumps rising from your flesh and you gasp.

“Fuck," he swears under his breath. His fingers are dangling so close to your core that he can feel your arousal by your thighs. "You’re so fucking wet,” Jisung mutters, only to laugh and comment, "Maybe I should have fucked you.”

"Should have," you whine. "But guess what? My boyfriend's fucking— Ah!"

He absent-mindedly plays with strings of your arousal, coating his palms and fingers. You gasp at the sudden contact. Twisting and turning his fingers, he gathers up the dangling strings of arousal, before bringing it to his mouth and licking it clean. His gaze is still fixated on yours.

"Fuck you."

"Sure. On it, babe."

Tauntingly, he continues teasing your cunt — the tip of his finger lightly pressing against the entrance, but never enough to fully enter you. Each small action has you moving forward in pleasure as you try to push against his hand in an attempt to sink his finger into you. Jisung chuckles, kissing your clavicle, biting into the skin above and sucking furiously enough to mark you. He licks the mark before kissing down your clavicle.

He runs his finger through your core, collecting more of your juices onto his digit, before teasingly entering you barely. You find yourself hissing and bucking, your entrance twitching around the tip of his finger responsively.

“Jisung,” you whine, pushing your core further into his hand. “Please,” you implore, beg. You're desperate enough and two weeks of no contact has left you unhinged. The sensation of the pad of his thumb swiping against your swollen, needy clit causing you to buck into him, your cunt soon contracting around nothing. He pushes himself up and lowers down your body to meet your core. Your core involuntarily clenches, releasing another gush of wetness, pooling down the skin and staining his bedsheets messily.

"Your clothes—" you point, tugging at his pants. "Off, hoe," you sigh. "Now."

"Not yet," he rasps. "Need to give you that orgasm I owe you."

"Ah!" You sigh pleasantly. Jisung moans, shuddering under your fingertips. “My girl is all pretty and wet all for me," he mewls. His fingers trace small circles further into your slit, until his digits are teasing your entrance again. A low mewl falls from your lips, your hips writhing into his hand and you try to get him to push his fingers into you now.

“Jisung, shut with the teasing, you bitch,” you murmur, not even bothering to hide the want in your voice exhibiting now through annoyance, along with the greed for so much more. He laughs at your name calling, against your skin, nose brushing against your skin and with a kiss to your mound, his digits lightly push against the tightness of your entrance. He relishes and dwells himself in the way you tighten around just for him. You are just for him. A being he has been blessed with that's made for him just as he is for you. His eyes sparkle in mirth at your core clenching and unclenching involuntarily around him. You whine, “Fuck," trying to tighten around his digit as much as possible, almost as if you think your orgasm is going to rush in just by the sheer touch of your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend pushes one and then another finger into you. Your wetness allows them to slide in with ease and he gasps at how the jagged inner walls of yours feel — a memory he wishes he could remember every time. Somehow he's glad he can't because every single moment with you feels like a first time for him. The rush and excitement is unmatched. Drawing raspy breaths from you, he slowly begins pumping them into you. With each movement, you feel your entrance open and close, your eyes rolling back at the sensation. He pumps them into you, relishing every moan and swear word that leaves your lips. It's perhaps the very fact that you haven't had sex with him for so long that makes you want him more than ever, your arousal evident and dripping around, coating his finger.

He breathes in the scent of your arousal deeply, pressing kisses against your skin, softly at first before it turns into intense ones, licking and sucking on them to make a visible mark against them, staining your mound with purple and dark red hues.

“I fucking love you, man,” His voice is low, dropping a couple of octaves, and the deep sound that turns deeper every single time he whispers, thrums against your skin, before kissing against the skin again. You are so close to breaking down from just his breath against you, gripping on his hair so hard that you are worried you're going to rip his hair out. “Yes, yes, yes,” leaves your lips and letting out an appreciative groan, Jisung slides his fingers deeper into you till his knuckles touch the sides of your core and you are gasping, taking in heavy breaths of air, eyes squeezing shut.

“You're literally swallowing me,” Jisung breathily whispers against your core, pressing a butterfly kiss against your clit. His words cause you to clench involuntarily, squeezing around him tightly and then his mouth is against your core, more specifically your clit, licking on it, before sucking, inappropriate sounds hitting off the walls, eliciting a choked moan from you.

You are about to say a word before Jisung curls his fingers up into you and your back arches slightly at the rush that it sends, a moan leaving your lips loudly as you scream out, “Sungie!”

You feel him rubbing against the same spot that brings the loudest reaction from you — a discovery he makes every time all over again — before dragging his fingers back slowly only to slip his fingers easily into you again, the slick of your arousal dripping down your thighs, making a mess.

"Wet and dripping. I’ll give you what you want, baby. You were so patient with me.” He rubs your walls, his attention undivided on your enlarged clit and your hips gyrate with him, thrusting and chasing after his fingers desperately.

He lifts himself up – his hand still rubbing against your spot – trailing kisses upwards till he latches onto your mouth, tugging at your lower lip. He delves into your mouth, tangling with your tongue. The sensations are heightened, your head unable to focus on either. Breaking from the kiss, you cry out against his lips, your breaths heavily intermingling together. Jisung uses his other hand to hold your jaw and angle your head in such a way that your foggy gaze is fixed on his sharp ones and your mouth opens slightly.

"Come for me, babe," he urges. His command, along with the way his fingers rub across your clit, has you crossing off of the brink of pleasure and into an oblivion for the first time that night and in weeks. You see the stars as you squint your eyes shut forcefully, breathing loud and shallow as you chant your boyfriend's name like a mantra. You need a moment to calm down from how good that orgasm is and Jisung slowly rubs you through your high.

Skin flushing with heat and covered in sweat, you feel electric sparks jolt across your flesh under your skin as bright ecstasy rumbles in your veins all over again as your boyfriend rubs your clit vigorously. In a split second without any heed or warning, his mouth is still on you. He flicks your clit with a snap of his finger and instantly, your muscles lock up, your nerves oversensitized. Tears spill from the corner of your eyes and you tug at Jisung's hair, face falling to the side as you bite into your lower lip.

Out of breath almost instantly, Jisung hovers over you, cupping your face with one hand of his and kissing you, wiping your tears away. You breathe in his air as he kisses you, your jaw slackens sadly once he leaves. You let out a loud whineful cry as a powerful orgasm powers through you again, his hand leaving yours for a minute as you squirt on being overstimulated. Your thighs quake violently as your back raises and arches upwards slightly. Your boyfriend's other arm wraps around your back as he kisses you through your heightened orgasm, helping you settle down. Your muscles tremble and ache and soon you find your hips halting their movement as you lose yourself into pleasure, squirting slowly receding. His hand is covered in your juices, glistening in the light of the room and he chuckles against your lips after pulling back, placing you lightly on your back.

“That was so fucking hot,” he looks at you proudly, pressing his forehead against yours. Your eyes are squeezed shut post that powerful orgasm, thick rivers of tears staining your cheeks. He moves only after your eyes open, making sure you’re alright and able to breath right.

"You're a bitch, dude," you barely let out. "But I love you."

Once you collect your breath, you move down his body, overcome with the need to please your boyfriend, to please this beautiful man who just made you come twice on his tongue, overstimulated you enough to make you squirt, embarrassing the hell out of your being. You hastily grip the hem of his sweats and begin to pull them down.

Jisung pushes himself backwards instinctively when you lift yourself up. You hold his shoulders, body still trembling from the after effects of your last orgasm and ask, "On your back, please."

"Baby, you don't— It's all you today."

"Yeah, and so let me."

Jisung lays on his back on your command and you kneel between his legs. He pulls himself upwards, one arm bending to support him and the other resting beneath his head to support his head up. He watches you position yourself between his thick thighs, practically drooling at the sight of his large cock. He finally lies there completely naked, a small smile dancing on his lips at the sight of you, skin glowing in the dim light of the room, soft music from the neighbours you are grateful for, muscles straining slightly despite his relaxed state, belly button piercing twinkling every now and then as the light hits the metal.

You take his cock into your mouth, working him in small portions. You remember how intimidated you had felt the first night you tried giving your boyfriend a head. Even though Jisung was kind enough to praise you through it, cradling and caressing you throughout, it was hard. With a girth as thick as his and mouth as small as yours, it was bound to be hard. With time, you learned of the ways to take his cock like an absolute professional, though it still managed to overwhelm you at certain times, if he really wanted to give it to you good. Not that you minded. You doubt you'd ever mind it when it's Han Jisung.

You bob your head, mouth coating his skin in your saliva, as your hand works what you can’t reach yet, encasing it in your grip. Above your head, Jisung is sighing, coral pouty lips parting and clenching his jaw as he watches his cock disappear inch by inch into your pretty, pink mouth, enjoying the sight of your lips wrapped so warmly around him. He loves watching you take him slowly. Jisung loves it so much that he thinks if he could stamp one memory forever or take a picture to treasure, it is this. One of his hands slips down to grip at your hair, only holding it back loosely for now, not applying any pressure. He loves seeing you like this as much as he wouldn't agree to you directly but he thinks you know. You seem like you know. Yet again, there is nothing you don't know about him.

“Fuck, baby,” he sighs out when you take more of him in and suck firmly on your way back up, licking at the head and sucking on it leisurely, tongue lapping at the sensitive pink skin of his length. He curses once again, huffing out a heavy breath, going delirious at the sight of you bobbing on his length. The rise of his chest begins to increase its pace and his body begins to build up a sweat all over again.

He groans loudly when you go down once again, taking in the most that you’ve had so far. Your eyes are closed, hair out of your way and your tongue is at against his length. His arm supports his body and he sits up. You feel the movement and you quickly open your eyes, pulling away and moving upwards hastily. You attempt to pull him out of your mouth to see if you did anything wrong. However, he places his hand firmly to the back of your head — you feel the large hand cover most of your head, hand gripping on a ponytail he has made and fixates your head exactly where it is.

“Keep going, please,” he breathes out and your pussy practically melts at that, as you look up at Jisung, his eyelids half closing in pleasure, his grip on your hair getting tighter. He glistens in the dim light, body shining from the sweat and you press your tongue flat against his tongue suddenly and he jerks.

“Fuck your mouth is, shit—“ he pauses to groan, pushing your mouth further down and you try to fight your gag reflex as much as possible. “This is what heaven feels like, baby. This is heaven on Earth.”

He takes control of your movements now. Being the soft dominant human being he is, he clutches your hair tightly to guide your mouth on his cock as he pleases. He eventually begins to buck his hips up to fuck your mouth, the explicit stickling sound of your saliva coating his cock every time he moves, resonating and bouncing off the walls. You're gagging heavily, trying to breathe properly through your nose. Saliva is dripping down your chin because of his length which is so big that you know you'd never be able to take him without activating your gag reflex. Your eyes roll over before your eyelids shut and Jisung's controlling your movements completely now.

“Love this pretty mouth of yours, baby,” he groans, pushing your head as far down as you could go. You choke a bit, letting out a stunned noise, one out of breath but you grip his thighs in an attempt to calm yourself and relax, despite the tears stinging your eyes at your gag reflex kicking in. Jisung slows down his movements, letting go of your hair but you refuse to move. You grab his hand before he could let go of you and you place it back over your head. He smiles and guides you again.

Your arousal drips down your core again and down your thighs, and you can’t help but push yourself forward. Your rear is pushing back against nothing but sheer want and lust for the man before you and his eyes catch onto the sight of your supple soft skin up in the air while your mouth is still locked on his cock. The entire position makes him lust over this woman before him that he proudly calls his.

“You’re so pretty,” he pants, eyes fluttering for a second when you suck on him harder, tongue licking a stripe along the underside of his dick all the way to its head, taking it home. Your hand grips on his balls, carressing it lightly under your fingertips when you feel it tightening. You know he's close and so you suck at the tip of his head furiously, letting out grunts from Jisung's lips, leaving them so deliriously that it has you moving quicker, jumping your groin into nothing. He finally pulls you off his cock, still gripping your hair firmly.

You cough for a while, stained aftermath of saliva on the corner of your lips. Your eyes are teary, some spilling from the corners and your lips are swollen. Jisung somehow, weirdly likes it. He loves seeing you fucked out for him over his cock. He loves seeing your slight makeup haphazard and your entire being disoriented for him. He thinks he's a fucking masochist because he wants to make you cry on his cock — cry for his cock.

"Why?" Your voice is parched as you manage to ask. "You were close."

He pulls you close, tugging at your arm and you fall on top of his chest. He kisses your nose and smiles, wiping the tears away from the corner of your eyes before whispering, "Need to come inside of you, baby."

And he flips you over in the flash of a second and you are under him for the second time that night, ready for a million times for the rest of your life. You kiss him, your shaking hands cupping his face, rubbing small circles into the side with your thumb.

Jisung holds one of your legs by its underside and lifts it above, placing it on your shoulder. You prop your body slightly upwards, ache residing by the joints and Jisung kisses the skin at your acetabulum. He brushes his cock against your cunt and a harsh swear leaves his pretty lips. The tip brushes your clit, tingles running down your spine. Your nails dig into his hand by your side, holding onto the bedsheet and you gasp.

He slides in slowly, letting you get used to his girth and familiarise yourself with it. He pushes it in agonisingly slow and it adds further to the sensuality. The stretch causes you to curl your toes in ecstasy. With your leg over his shoulder, heels digging into the skin by his scapula, the way he is holding you allows him to move deeper, sliding in until you can feel him by your deepest parts and his thighs are pressed against your purple bruised ones. He bends forward and you watch your boyfriend.

Fuck, you love him. So much.

His face is soft and yet so affectionate, his features molded from the divine being, flawless and perfect. Jisung is panting in your ears, the grunt soft and echoing in your eardrums, amplifying on their way to your cochlea and you surround yourself in him. His muscles are tense and the words come out in a low, deep tone, "Fuck, you're swallowing me as a whole. Baby, you are so pretty."

He kisses your lips, ceasing his movements for a while in your wet warmth, whispering against them, "I'm so lucky, so lucky, so lucky—"

He pushes once more to go deeper if it's possible and you moan loudly. He watches your eyes squeeze shut and he can't believe that you're all for him, made for him just as he was for you. You squeeze around him unknowingly and he swears under his breath, his grip on your hip tightening. He knows he could come with you just wrapped around him perfectly, with all your warmth encasing him like he's lucky. He grits his teeth and pulls out. When he slams into you again, his pubic bone hitting your nether region, balls slapping against your arse, you scream. He's close already from you giving a phenomenal head and now when you're squeezing him like your life depended on it, he knows he's going to lose his sanity to you.

Jisung picks up a pace. It is fast and hard and has you gripping onto him for the life of yours. Your hips move along to match his pace and when your moans get excessive, he locks his lips with yours, owning every one of them and making them his. You scream louder into his mouth, muffled screams slipping out. You can feel him twitching against your wall and the whine that leaves you is muffled by his mouth again.

"I want to see you come again, baby," he mumbles, pushing into you, jerking you up. "I want to see you come undone because of me. All around me."

He lets go of your leg, feeling your leg move unsteadily because of the ache that rests in your joints, and moves his hand over your clit. He taps on your clit at a steady pace and you fill your mind slowly coming undone, like a pearl necklace ready to snap. His mouth is against your ear, licking a stripe at the cartilage before whispering into it, "Look at you. So fucking pretty. You're a—" He thrusts into you, hitting a spot that has you shuddering down on him fighting an urge to come undone so quickly, both you and him that Jisung has to catch his breath for a second there. "—my goddess. You're perfect for me. Need to see you come undone under my touch. Need to see you break into a vulnerable mess because of my touch. Need you to wrap around me perfectly."

Tears spill from the corner of your eyes and it's all too much. Your senses are heightened and you feel his warmth around you perfectly and in you completely. Your hand finds its way back to Jisung's hair, tugging at the ones by his nape, digging into the skin by his neck before travelling to messily hold at his scapula, arm falling over his shoulders.

"Please, fuck— please, Sungie," you cry. "Want you, need you, need you, need yo—"

Your boyfriend grunts, his grip firmer than a second before, his stomach quivering and his hips striking, picking up momentum until he's pounding you against the warmth of your bed, the bed making sounds of creeking occasionally as it pushes backwards and falls back forward. You wrap your legs around his waist, hips moving upwards wildly because you know you're close and you know Jisung is too.

He kisses you, passionate and fiery. Your brain feels fuzzy, your consciousness diminishing. Your fucked out expression is the one look that he knows he'd want to get it sketched. Your eyes hooded, cheeks flushed, face glistening in sweat, lips swollen and red and parted, with moans leaving them so softly that he knows he's ruined for. You are whining, moans leaving your lips one after another in no particular order of vocal range — occasionally screaming so loud that you know the nice lady across the hall is going to give you a earful tomorrow morning — when his cock slams into the same spot that has you losing your mind and it snaps.

"Fuck, Jisung!" You come around his cock, the white flash spreading under your eyelids and you're weeping, desperately, mercilessly. The tears in your eyes fall at that, the combination of sensations you’re experiencing right now too much to handle and Jisung quickly catches onto it with an almost sinister chuckle. Your heart swells and you feel the rushing oxytocin clouding your brain, filling you with nothing but love for Jisung.

Jisung continues thrusting into you, chasing after his own orgasm. He still whispers into your ear that makes you bloom in confidence, "There, baby. You're doing so well. That's my girl." You know that he is close and so you hold him tight, squeezing around his girth and your boyfriend moans. You kiss his neck, leaving marks on his skin as you bend forwards. His hips stutter widely and a deep groan fills your ears. You can faintly feel it as he comes undone in the sheath you are. It's pulsating, warm and hot and he holds himself in you, thrusting slowly and languidly to come down from his high, moaning into you.

His lips constantly peck yours, over and over again, lazily giving you gentle kisses as you feel his come leak out of you, once he pulls out of you, humming a soft tune against you, his voice surrounding you. He moves to lie beside you, pulling you to lie on your side in front of him, continuing to kiss you lazily as he begins to sneak his tongue into your mouth, leg draping over yours, arm wrapping around your middle to pull you closer to him and press your body completely to his, gently stroking your sweaty hair back.

The whole situation is a mess but there is something so domestic and warm about this, about Jisung just holding you in moments after sex.

You do the same, snuggling closer to him, enjoying the soft treatment and the gentle feel of his lips, your hands tracing his shoulders and biceps before going to his chest and sneakily tracing down to his belly button, poking the metal piercing. You pull away for a second with a tired giggle.

“You know,” you murmur, voice hoarse for all kinds of reasons clearly. “You’re really hot and all but this," you kiss his nose, "This is why I keep you around."

“What a bitch," he laughs. "A bitch I love a bit too much."

"Aw," you coo. "I love you too, babe."

"What's this, Jisung?"

You point at the beautiful packaged box, also tied with yet another beautiful red ribbon. It is surrounded by fresh rose petals in the side. Having known Jisung for years now, you are not completely wrong when you suspect something fishy. It's not even Valentine's.

"I swear to God, Sungie, if this is some weird shit—"

He raises his hands in defense, leaning against the doorpost, waiting for you to open the gift. He has a smug expression on his face, so ready to tease the crap out of you.

You pull the ribbon out and open the lid of the box, only to find a thong in it. A bright red colored one. You pick it up, holding the string between your thumb and your forefinger only to find the vibrator attached to it and the words, 'It Ain't Gonna Lick Itself,' on the fabric.

"You bastard."

And you chase after him, your hand stretched forward after throwing the thong back onto the bed. Jisung's already sprinting away from the bedroom and into the hall, jumping on the sofas to get away from you. You're laughing, finding the whole situation extremely ridiculous just as much as the present is; chasing after your boyfriend like you were five. And when you scream at your boyfriend as to why, all he has to say is —

"It's your fault. You were the one whining about not spicing up our sex life, babe."

"That was you!"

[sundaysundaes]

My Words, Your Thoughts (Teaser)

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut | Soulmate AU, Friends-to-Lovers AU

Part of the beautiful ‘Aubade’ collaboration hosted by @hyucksie​

Synopsis: As an introvert, you are familiar with the silence. Drowning yourself deep in your thoughts has been a habit you’ve become addicted to. Your life begins to change, however, ever since the day you turned twenty. Suddenly, there’s this song that’s stuck in your head, and no matter how much you yearn to hear your thoughts or be comforted by the silence, it keeps on playing. You only get to find the answer to your problem when a young, cute barista hands you a cup of coffee one day, with that song’s lyrics written on the side. And you realize that you’re not the only one who’s been hearing voices in your head.

Warnings: explicit sex, expletives, mentions of physical abuse and astraphobia (not for the main characters)

WC (Teaser): 4k

Release Date: June 27, 2021, 10 AM KST

It’s weird. It’s so weird.

It’s weird that you’ve been hearing this song replaying over and over again in your head when you’re sure you’ve never listened to it before. It’s also weird because sometimes the song sounds like the ones you often hear about on the radio—complete with instrumental accompaniment and everything—but most of the time, it just sounds like someone is humming to it. Sometimes quietly, but more often than not, vehemently like they’re having a concert in the shower, not caring if the neighbors might hear.

As someone who rarely listens to mainstream music, you don’t keep up with the trend these days but the tunes are catchy enough that you think, maybe, it’s one of those Justin Bieber’s songs people always talk about. You’re not fond of it, though, so even if you’ve heard it somewhere in a cafe or a mall, there’s very little chance you’ll be humming it in your head.

And yet, it keeps on playing.

It gets worse when it goes on for a whole day—a whole fucking day—that your brain feels like it’s seconds away from bursting into pieces. It doesn’t even sound like your voice. It seems like it belongs to a male, a bit light and a pitch higher than most. Though it sounds pleasant, the voice is unfamiliar to your ears and that’s what bothers you the most. 

Trying your best to escape, you plug in your AirPods to your earholes, choosing one of the most beloved tracks from your playlist—today, it’s Bloom by The Paper Kites—to help you relax as you lie down on your bed. But no matter how many times you turn up the volume—it’s practically turning you deaf, ironically—you can still hear that one goddamn song playing.

“Oh my God,” you groan, projecting a murderous glare at the ceiling of your room before you shriek all of your heart’s content to your pillow. “Make it stop!”

This has been going on ever since your twentieth birthday and it’s been three months since then—three months of suffering, to be exact. Fortunately for you, you haven’t been listening to the same song for those amount of time—God, you would’ve killed yourself if that was the case. The song changes without warning. It can change ten times within a day, or stay the same for ten days. You have never heard of these songs except for the popular ones, and even then, you only ever listened to snippets as they don’t suit your taste. 

So… It doesn’t make sense that you could recite the whole lyrics, does it? 

And yet, you can. 

Somehow, you already know every word, every tune, even every ad-lib in these songs and it both amazes and creeps you out. It’s as if somebody else is singing about it in their mind, and you, somehow, are mentally connected to them.

But that’s surely not the case, right?

With more days passing by, as your brain deteriorates little by little, you start to think that maybe that is the case.

Or maybe you’re just going crazy.

It’s nine in the morning and your eyes are bleary from how you involuntarily skipped sleep last night. With the loudest sigh and your half-charged MacBook sitting still in your backpack, you let your wobbly legs carry you to the nearest coffee shop. There’s a new Starbucks store opening just a couple of blocks away from your apartment and it’s perfect since you’re going to pass it every day on your way to college. 

You’re not excited though, not when you have Michael Jackson’s Man in The Mirror playing in your head for the, approximately, thirty-fifth time that day. And it’s only nine in the fucking morning.

When you enter the coffee shop, greeted by a cute Christmas tree and festive decorations spreading all over the place even when it’s still three weeks away from the holiday, you almost weep in joy when the song stops playing in your head. It does happen from time-to-time, sometimes it stops for a few hours before it starts again with the same song or an entirely different one. But in most cases, it only pauses for a few minutes which just doubles the torture whenever you’re trying to concentrate on your paperwork.

“Hi.” You display a timid smile at a female barista, slightly wincing when the song in your head starts blaring again, as expected. It’s still the same song this time—so that thirty-sixth by now, Jesus Christ—but instead of someone humming it, it’s the original version that plays. You’re having trouble focusing on her greeting when the sound of a synthesizer echoes through your ear, stridently so. “I would like a tall skinny latte with a double shot, please.”

“Would you like anything else to accompany your drink?”

Perhaps a gun to blow my head off? “No, thanks. That’d be all for me.”

“Is that for here or to go?”

You take a quick scan of your surroundings. You still have an hour before your first class starts and since the place isn’t that crowded, you figure you might as well just spend some time here. “For here.”

You tell her your name and slide down your card to complete the payment. “All right. We will call your name once your order is ready.”

“Fantastic. Thanks.” As the female barista takes an order from another customer, you drag yourself to an empty seat in the corner of the room, next to the glassy window where you can glance at passersby. You lay your head down on the table, cheek pressed against the wooden surface, lower lip jutting out in weariness. You’re drowsy and you want to think about the snow that’s probably gonna fall sometimes near Christmas’ Day and maybe the sight of a warm fireplace where you can cozy up with your imaginary boyfriend (also known as Jung Jaehyun—that one perfect boy who lives just across of your hallway), but no, unfortunately for you, you no longer have any space left in your brain since Michael Jackson is performing a damn concert and it doesn’t seem like he’s gonna stop anytime soon.

���I’m starting with the man in the mirror…” Great, now you’re singing it. “I’m asking him to change his ways…”

The music in your head abruptly stops again but before you can close your eyes to finally enjoy your silence, a familiar voice chimes in.

“It’s a great song, isn’t it?”

Shocked, you quickly lift your head to identify a male barista placing down a cup of your ordered latte on your table. You swear you recognize his voice but his face doesn’t ring a bell.

“Hi,” he greets, smiling a bit sheepishly. “I don’t usually bring orders directly to the table but I think I misheard your name so I couldn’t call you out from there.”

“That’s, umm, that’s okay…” You hide the bottom half of your face behind your scarf as you’re not used to talking to a stranger, especially one that looks overwhelmingly pretty. “What did you think my name was?”

“Umm…” He rubs the back of his nape awkwardly. “I don’t think you want to know. It was a bit… inappropriate.”

“R-right…” You glance at the cup. “It says ‘Michael.’”

He chuckles but with only a slight hint of amusement in it. “Yeah, sorry about that. I had to come up with something and it was the first thing that came to mind.”

“And it has…” Your eyes widen when you notice the words he’s written on the side of your cup. It’s not a greeting, it’s not a motivational sentence, it’s the fucking lyrics to Michael Jackson’s Man in The Mirror.

“Yeah, okay, so—” Noticing the appalled look on your face, he hurriedly tries to reason out. “I’ve had this song stuck in my head all day long—I just listened to it a minute ago while making your order—and the lyrics are just so inspirational so I decided to write that down. I hope that’s not too weird.” Then he laughs a little, a tad more genuinely this time. “But I heard you singing that song just now. What are the chances, right?”

You swallow hard. He’s been thinking about that song too? Listened to it a minute ago? What are the chances of this is happening? Is he the one whose voices I’ve been hearing in my head—

The male barista abruptly takes a step back, his tray nearly slipping out of his hold. He has a hand pressed against his ear, eyes blinking several times in disbelief. “Holy shit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You—” He splutters, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I can’t believe it’s real.”

“What?” The way he seems like he’s looking at a ghost sends goosebumps all over your skin. “What is it?”

“Think about something.” 

“Umm—” What is he talking about?

This time he gapes, his jaw dropping low. “Holy shit, I can really hear you. Think about something else—think about me.”

“Look, I don’t know you and you’re being weird.” The sudden change of conversation baffles you but when his words sink in, you can’t stop yourself from thinking about him as he orders. He’s cute, his entire features are cute—you’ve noticed that from the first second you laid your eyes on him, but what catches your eyes the most is his lips—the way they’re shaped so beautifully, like a cupid’s bow—

“You’re thinking about my lips? Seriously?” He asks, but might as well splash cold water to your face. “If you said something about my eyes, sure, I mean, they are attractive. One might even say that God Himself took the stars from the sky and put them in my eyes—but my lips? Huh, that’s new.”

You loudly gasp when you’re finally aware of the situation, hands flying to your face to cover your gaping mouth. “You can hear my thoughts!”

“And you can hear mine too!” He points out, and as startled as you are from the previous realization, you instantly frown upon his words. 

“I don’t think so,” you reply. “I can only hear—”

“Donghyuck-ah!” Another barista comes to interrupt from the other side of the room. “We didn’t pay you to flirt, come back here!”

“I wasn’t flirting!” He shouts back, tips of his ears reddening. When he turns to you again, he has a prominent scowl on his face which makes you squirm on your feet. “We need to talk about this. My break is in an hour, do you think you can wait?”

It sounds more like an order than a request. “B-but I have a class in an hour.”

“Skip it.”

It takes all the strength in your body to be brave enough to retort back with, “Why don’t you skip your work?”

“I’m already half-done with my work, I can’t bail out now.” He rolls his eyes. Suddenly, his courteousness just vanishes without a trace. “Look, I’ve been hearing your thoughts for months now and I have a lot to complain to you about.”

You grimace. “It’s not like I can control my thoughts—”

“I know, I’m not blaming you.” He picks up the tray, his gaze softening but only slightly. “I just want to complain. You’ve been driving me crazy these past few months.”

You glance away, pouting. Wow, he surely knows how to befriend a stranger.

“I can hear you, you know.” He sighs as if talking to you is exhausting, when it should be the other way around. “Look, I’m sure you’ve been going through the same thing. Don’t you want this to stop?”

You’re not wasting any second. “Yes, please.”

“Then wait for me. We’ll talk this through.” He pivots on his heels, his tray glued to his side. When you can finally breathe properly, exhausted from the social interaction as you sink back to your seat, the barista—Donghyuck—adds, “Oh, as you wait. Can you please stop thinking about my lips? Or just how cute I am in general? It’s sweet but I gotta concentrate so I won’t write another Michael on my next order.”

You slam your forehead down the table, face aflame. “I-I’ll try.”

“Thanks.”

***

“You just can’t stop thinking about my lips, can you?” Is the first thing Donghyuck states out as soon as he’s approached your table. He runs a hand through his brown hair, which looks out-worldly fluffy that you begin to wonder what kind of hair product he’s been using. “Or my hair.”

Mortified, you mumble out, “I’m sorry,” with half of your face covered by your hands. The more I try not to think about his lips, the more I do—shit, is he hearing this too—

“Yes,” Donghyuck says, but this time with an amused smile. “Man, I didn’t know my lips were that appealing to ladies. You’re gonna make me blush.”

Well, he’s making you blush for sure. “Would it be too much to ask for you to stop listening to my thoughts?”

“Believe me, woman, I’ve tried.” He groans, taking his apron off before he sits in front of you. He loosens up his collar, unbuttoning two buttons of his white shirt—which is two more than necessary to your liking—and you have to gaze away before another thought forms inside your head about a certain part of his body. 

“Sorry if I came on too strong before. I’m Lee Donghyuck,” he introduces formally, offering you his hand. You reply with your name but you’re reluctant to shake his hand since you’re sure you’re breaking into a cold sweat, and an overly sweaty palm doesn’t really scream attractive—

“It’s literally just a handshake,” he says, stifling down a laugh. “I’m not gonna start judging you about it. You’re cute, sweaty palms or not.”

You nearly choke. “If I can’t ask you to stop listening to my thoughts, can you please be quiet about them?”

“That’s also impossible since talking is an integral part of my charm.” He leans back to his chair. “I’m pretty good with my mouth.”

That was… a poor choice of words, you think, as you stare at his lips and can’t help but wonder what can that mouth do other than talking. You take a bite of the bagel you just ordered, desperately trying to avert your attention.

“It wasn’t a poor choice of words.” He winks. “I did mean that in every way possible.”

This time, you really are choking.

“Okay, so what’s happening to us?” Donghyuck questions, after you manage to shed a tear or two during your attempt in relieving your throat. “Why have I been hearing your thoughts? I don’t even know you.”

“Same here.” You’re still going through a hard time keeping eye contact with him, but with more seconds passing by—and him pronouncing every bit of your thoughts out in the open—the knots inside your chest begin to loosen. “Ever since I turned twenty, I’ve been hearing these songs playing in my head that I’d never even heard of.”

“Never heard of?” Donghyuck snorts. “What, you never listen to Billboard’s top forty?”

You weakly shrug. “I prefer indie music better. Or instrumentals.”

“I would say that you have a soul of an old lady but the way you’ve been thinking about my lips reminds me of my sister who’s going through puberty.”

“Okay, this isn’t fair.” You shake your head, ashamed and tired of being humiliated over something you can’t fix. “Why can you hear my thoughts but I can’t hear yours?”

“Believe me, you’re much better off this way.” His face contorts in pain which makes you feel somewhat sorry if he’s not constantly being an ass about it. Hearing your insult, he notes, “Also, I’d prefer to be called with terms of endearment in the future, if that’s okay with you. Something like Babe or Darling.” The way he raises his eyebrow is just strictly illegal. “And in return, I’ll call you Sweetheart.” But before you can say anything—or run toward a running bus to put an end to this endless humiliation—he questions, “Wait, when you hear the songs I’ve been thinking in my head, does it sound like the original version of the song, or like me singing it?”

Finally, a proper conversation. “If you’re listening to the actual music, I can hear the original song as if I’m hearing it through my headphones. But when you’re just thinking about it, well, I‘ve never heard you sing, but,” you decide to tease him back—which startles you from how blatant you’re being. “From how amateur and pitchy this voice sounded in my head, I think I’ve been hearing yours.”

“Cute.” He scrunches up his nose. “Okay, let’s try again. Can you hear what song running through my head now?”

You stiffen, sitting in silence. After a few seconds pass by with only you exchanging stern stares at each other, your eyes gleam with a spark of hope. “Wait, I can’t hear you. Does this mean it stops? Because we’ve met in person?”

“Sadly no, because I was just thinking about how silly you looked when you choked over your food earlier.” He chuckles to himself and sends you another wink when you degrade him in your head. “Okay, let’s try again.”

“For real this time?”

“For real this time, Sweetheart.” He closes his eyes, holding back a smile when he catches how you flinch a little at his pet name for you. This time, you really do hear him humming inside your mind. “Don’t tell me by words,” he immediately adds, “Just think about them.”

Heaving a sigh, you close your eyes too. I’ve heard this song somewhere.

“If you’ve never heard about this song, I will literally cry and apologize to the world on your behalf.”

Be quiet, please, I’m trying to concentrate.

“Worried that you’d be thinking about my lips again?”

You almost fall from your seat. Almost. Okay, you’re singing to… You knit your eyebrows together as you provide your best effort to remember the tunes. You’re singing to Super Mario Bros theme song?

“Correct.” He taps his fingers to the table, simpering. “This is actually pretty cool. We can be, like, partners in crime or something.”

You shudder. “Please don’t tell me you’re an actual criminal.”

“If looking this handsome is a crime then I am, yes. Guilty as charged.” He makes a kissy face when you think about throwing the rest of your bagel to his head. “You look like someone who writes fan-fiction about their idols having sappy first kisses in your spare time but you’re actually pretty wild in your head, aren’t you?” He loves seeing your reactions, you know that, so you give your all in trying to act nonchalant. “Now, let’s try again. Did you bring your headphones with you?”

You check your coat’s pocket. “I got my AirPods.”

“Perfect. Put them on and play something from your phone.” As someone who’s pretty carefree, he can get serious at times. “Play as loud as you can until you feel like you’re going deaf.”

“I’ve tried that many times.” You nearly wail at the memory. “But it’s hard to drown your voice since it comes from inside my head.”

“Yeah, I know that. I’ve been hearing your thoughts too, remember? Don’t you think I would at least try something like that?” You narrow your eyes menacingly at him but he simply waves you off. “Anyway, that’s not what I’m trying to do. Put them on and you’ll see.”

He’s ordering you around. He just met you and he’s ordering you around. Socializing with people in general already zaps your energy pretty quickly, so socializing with a brat—

“I’ll grow on you, don’t worry.” He smirks and you take a mental note to really learn how to control your thoughts this time.

You follow his lead, as requested, connecting your AirPods to your phone and play something relaxing—because God knows how desperately you need it—as loudly as you can bear. Okay, go try… whatever it is that you want to try.

He smiles and shifts slightly on his seat, facing the window. His eyes glimmer under the light when he parts his lips, mouthing some words—no, singing something that you can’t hear.

Wait. I can’t hear?

Donghyuck glances at you, a grin breaking further on his lips upon hearing your thought. He gestures to you to take your AirPods away and you nod. Vacation Manor’s You promptly fades as his voice enters, and it’s weird because you’ve heard him sing in your head so many times yet it doesn’t do justice to how beautiful he sounds in real life.

It’s almost angelic, the sound he makes, which is kind of ironic for a little devil that he is. His honeyed voice is soothing, almost like the patter of rain on your window at dawn, lulling you back to sleep. You’re no expert in music but to you, he sounds impeccable that you run out of words to describe how pleasant his voice is to your ears. It’s so distinct, soulful—

Donghyuck giggles. “Thanks.”

—and annoying. “Okay, so what happened?” You try to divert the topic. “I can’t hear you when you’re singing out loud, but I can hear it when you’re thinking about a song?”

“I guess so.” He furrows his eyebrows, deep within his thoughts. “I figured it out when I couldn’t hear your thoughts whenever you spoke out loud. I think we can work from this?”

“So instead of thinking about what I have to say, I should focus more on saying what I want to say?” You shake in horror. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“What, you don’t like talking?”

“I’m…” You swallow your breath. “I’m not really good at that.”

“You’re talking to me just fine now, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, because you make it so easy.”

“Aaw,” he purrs, a lopsided smile painting his face. “Thanks, Sweetheart.”

“No.” You hold up a hand. “I mean, since you can hear my thoughts, I have no other choice but to speak. Also, you seem like you’re the type who just says whatever that comes to mind without worrying too much about my feelings—”

“Hey, now you’re just making me sound rude—”

“You are rude,” You emphasize. “But it works well with me because then I don’t have to hold myself back and pretend to be somebody else.”

“Why do you have to pretend?” He frowns. “Because you’re afraid people are gonna hate you? Judge you on your words?”

“It’s…” You look away, nibbling on your bottom lip. “I just… I’m trying to be a good person so people will like me—”

“I like you,” he says casually as if he was talking about having a cute Pomeranian as a pet, and there you are, almost fainting in your seat. “I mean, in the last forty minutes I’ve known you, I think you’re great the way you are. You don’t have to be good, you just have to be you.” He shifts closer, crossing his arms on the table, and lays his chin on them, gazing up at you with a soft smile that doesn’t match well with his previous attitude. “Don’t you think it’s great if people accept you the way you are?”

You hurriedly take a sip of your coffee, pretending to swallow even if it’s already empty. “You’re… not so bad yourself.”

“What was that?”

“Okay, well I think I should go.” There’s no way you’re gonna repeat that. Donghyuck titters, taking a hold of your wrist when you’re about to stand up from your seat.

“We still have loads to talk about.” You observe the way his fingers linger around your arm, his sun-kissed skin feels silky smooth against your own. “Why don’t we have lunch together? My treat?”

“D-don’t you have work to do?”

“I’ll make an excuse.” 

A barista with the word Jeno written on his name tag walks by and slaps Donghyuck on the back of his head as if it’s something he’s done on a daily basis—probably is. “You’re not going anywhere, asswipe, get back to work.”

When the brunette boy turns to you, he winces. “Or maybe you can give me your number so we can meet up later?”

***

A/N: I’m both nervous and excited for this as this is my first collaboration. Thank you so much, Denise, for having me on this wonderful collab!

[inkbyajm]

Bottled Up

pairing: C.H. x fem!reader

category: angst, fluff

warnings: yelling, crying, insecurities

word count: 2.2k

notes: apologies for the tardy post, i wrote and rewrote and re-rewrote the whole angsty scene because i didn’t know if it was written well enough, i wanted to make sure you guys could feel the emotions that i vividly visualised and tried my best to put into words  :( i did send it to a friend to check and she seemed to like it, so let me know how it goes for you, my loves. the angst for this one was inspired by 2 different songs - hold me while you wait by lewis capaldi and i will run from you by cemeteries. it’s not necessarily about the lyrics, but more about the melody and the mood you get into listening to them (they go in order). give those a listen :) also, beware of the upcoming philosophy references, i did study philosophy last year, hopefully no one gets triggered lmao

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Is a person’s scent something a normal human being picks up on before taking into account the rest of their features? Would a normal human being remember said scent and be able to recognise it in a crowd full of strangers? Corpse wasn’t too sure about the answer, but one thing he did know, is that she smelled delicately sweet, like cherry blossoms, and that ever since he had noticed it during their game night a few weeks ago, he simply couldn’t let it go. It was intoxicating, but in a calming way. 

━

Corpse and (Y/N) each lay on their beds in their own homes, going into the third hour of their call. He couldn’t exactly fall asleep, so he had decided to see what his dear friend was up to, and even though she was this close to succumbing to sleep, she said nothing and stayed up to keep his busy mind company.

“Okay, hot topic: what do you think about soulmates? More specifically the romantic type?” the girl asked, not knowing how much of a risqué question it was. How was he supposed to answer?

“I don’t really have an opinion on it. Why?”

“I read Symposium by Plato the other day and it presented an interesting concept about human beings. Basically-” Of course she fucking read philosophical books. How were they even having a conversation with each other? Why were they even friends? She was on a whole other level of smart. “-so this guy says that humans were like androgynous blobs, so they’d come in two sets of everything a normal person has. But those humans were so powerful, the gods were literally shaking in their robes, so Zeus decided to cut everyone into two to weaken them. But then humans became so miserable, they spent their entire lives searching for their other halves. In the end, Zeus kinda felt bad and said fuck it, I’ll give y’all dicks and vaginas for every time you wanna hug each other. And that’s the oldest explanation there is about the idea of soulmates.” she sighed, finished with her rant.

“That was...not at all the story I expected to hear.” she heard him mumble on the other side of the call. “Yeah, Greek philosophers were up to some reeal freaky things, you would have loved them,” he laughed at her joke, “I honestly think it’s cute. Not the whole cutting people into two thing, but like, longing for someone and then finding them because you finally feel complete. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a strong independent woman who doesn’t need a prince in shining whatever to sweep me off my feet. But it does sound nice, that ideal comfort, a person you’re just...meant to be with, I guess.”

There was a moment of silence that neither of them really minded, before it was Corpse’s turn to ask the second bold question of the night. “Have you found that person yet? Your soulmate?”

She’s never thought about it before, but she hasn’t really thought about soulmates that much either, it was a spontaneous thought she had said out loud. “I’m not sure, actually. (B/F/N) could be one, I guess.” (Y/N) shrugged in return. Wasn’t she going to ask him about it? She probably didn’t care that much. Understandable.

“My favourite quote about love is «You come to love not by finding the perfect person, but by seeing an imperfect person perfectly.». It’s by Sam Keen, the American philosopher. It maay be the hopeless romantic in me shining through, but I do very much agree with his statement.” Did this mean anyone could have a chance with her despite their fuckups? So if he were to try, would she-?

“Obviously, there are some things that just can’t be ignored or avoided, but at that point it’s preferences and personal tolerance. Depends on the person, ya know?” she swiftly added, unaware of the effect it had on him. Sick. Some people were just meant to rot alone.

The final question was posed by (Y/N). She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t at all curious. This little crush of hers had been steadily growing with every hang out, every laugh, every hug and every glance. There are rarely ever moments where one could casually discuss a topic this personal with friends, at least there weren’t with friends one had feelings for. This was the perfect opportunity.

“Corpse?”

“Hmm?”

“Have you ever been in love?” her voice was soft, her approach gentle.

“Well, I’ve been in relationships before, so I guess, yeah? It’s been so long, I don’t even know what love feels like anymore.” he let out a breath resembling a chuckle. Lamest fucking answer ever. But it was true. He hadn’t thought about love in that way in quite a while.

“A lot of people describe it as having an intense range of overwhelming feelings. Lightheadedness, slight shakiness, heart palpitations, some people have even reported losing their appetite. Crazy how human bodies work, huh? Oh! Speaking of chemicals-”

She had continued on to ramble about...chemistry? Eyes? Corpse couldn’t really hear what she was saying anymore, let alone concentrate on her words, as he pieced everything that’s been happening for the past few months together. The nauseating feeling. The pounding of his heart so fast it felt like he was about to die. The urge to make as little eye contact with her as possible, because otherwise he’d turn into a furnace. The obsession with her perfume, like he was some fucking creep. The fool was falling in love. And it was at that moment that everything had come crumbling down.

━

(Y/N) and Corpse hadn’t talked for a couple of weeks. Or rather (Y/N) messaged the 23 year old many times, but he’d either claim to be busy or just not answer at all. There were two possible reasons for the sudden lack of contact: he was indeed busy with his musical projects and couldn’t allow himself to be distracted; or something much more serious was going on. It didn’t matter, for she was already in her car, on her way to his apartment.

Arriving at her destination, she used the spare key he gave her months ago, a sign of absolute trust, and allowed herself into his humble abode. Silence reigned in her friend’s residence. She thought maybe he had gone somewhere, and though that was unlikely, it wasn’t unprecedented. The door to his recording room was closed, and while she was tempted to check if he was in there, she refrained from doing so, knowing that specific room was not to be entered unless he was around to give permission.

“Corpse?” she called out just to make sure. There was no response for a few minutes, which made her assume she had the place for herself, until she heard a door open behind her. Turning around, she saw his figure emerge from said recording room in a white t-shirt and black sweatpants, his curly hair disheveled.

“Hey, how are you d-”

“Why are you here?” he spoke flatly, interrupting her. “Well- You weren’t, um, answering your messages or any of my calls, so I thought something had happened.” she replied, suddenly nervous, fiddling with the rings on her fingers. “Nothing happened. I told you I was busy.”

The air around them seemed colder as tensions rose. (Y/N) could tell he was irritated, but she couldn’t exactly figure out why. She had never seen this side of him before. “Okay. Tell you what, I assume you haven’t had dinner yet, so why don’t I go ahead and start cooking something up while you-”

“Get out.”

She blinked a few times, not quite registering the words that had just left his mouth. “Sorry?” Her voice was quiet. She was taken off guard.

“Are you deaf? I said get. the fuck. OUT.”

Corpse shouted the last word, making her flinch in what appeared to be fear. Good. Run away while you still can. Heart pounding, (Y/N) took a second to remind herself whom she was speaking to. “I see that you’re angry, but at least give me a reason why-”

“You want a reason? I just don’t fucking WANT you here!” Anger grew inside of him like a tumor, but it wasn’t intended for her. She had simply been caught in a storm that had been building up for years. “Do you understand that?! I can’t fucking be around you without feeling like I’m going to EXPLODE.”

His words hit her like paintballs. They were only words, plain and simple, but they dug deeper and deeper into her skin with each hit, until, eventually, it broke. Eyes burning, she felt the tears slowly welling up in them.

“Why are you doing this to me?!” her own voice grew louder with frustration, but mostly, confusion.

“Maybe because I can? Because I’m a goddamn asshole?” 

“Don’t say that.”

“How?! How can I not say it when it’s the truth!” He wanted to stop. His mind told him to cease whatever it was that he was doing. However, blinded with resentment towards himself, he only spilled words he would regret after it was too late. 

“I can’t function like a normal fucking human being. I can’t be a good friend, son, or whatever the fuck else, and I sure as hell can’t love you.”

The paintballs had turned into a singular sword. A very long, very sharp sword that had found itself plunged deep inside her chest. How did he found out? When? Had she been too obvious? Had she been pushy? Clingy? Way out of line? The woman before him was unable to conceal her shock, as tears came rushing down her hot cheeks. Her voice brittle, she tried defending herself. She couldn’t leave it at that. She had to try. Try to have him see reason. “You don’t love me, that’s fine. But you didn’t have to deliver it this way-”

“But I did.” breathless with fury, Corpse clenched his fists so tight they had turned cold, yet they were still trembling. “You can get so naïve and dumb, you won’t understand things unless they’re spelled out nice and fucking bold for you.”

He closed with (Y/N) until their noses nearly touched. He noticed the way she silently shook, her eyes which shed endless tears never leaving his gaze. Unable to make a single sound, she felt the man’s hot breath on her face, his aura domineering.

“Now get. out.”

Her body wouldn’t cooperate as she just stood there. Staring back at him, her inner brows raised. Corpse wanted to hug her. Envelop her trembling figure with his and tell her he was sorry, that he meant none of it, that he had lost his mind. But he couldn’t bring himself to do anything. And with his own tears threatening to spill, he created a distance between them. He needed her gone.

“Leave! GO!”

His yelling was enough to jolt (Y/N) out of her trance, and, in a hurry, she sprinted towards the entrance. The door closed behind her, she felt a sudden urge to fill her lungs with much needed air. She jumped at the resounding scream that emanated from deep within his soul, letting out all of his pent-up rage.

Feet carrying her all the way to her car parked outside of the building, the young woman managed to climb in, and this was the queue for her body to break down. The night was young. The street empty. No one around to hear her long-lasting wailing. She clutched the steering wheel for support, fingers wrapping around the leather in a tight grip. A headache was creeping up from the back of her skull. Her ears pulsated in response to the heavy pounding of her heart. Clumsily, (Y/N) inserted the key into the ignition, felt around for the gear stick, and drove away. She didn’t know where she was going or how long it was going to take to get there. She needed to get out.

What went wrong? When did it go wrong? She couldn’t help but feel guilty, feel at fault. She had never seen that side of him before. He had never treated her that way before.

It was the hugs, wasn’t it? He had to have noticed the way she held on for a second too long to enjoy the smell of his cologne. Her vision blurred as she resumed softly weeping, her salty tears staining her top. Or it might have been the touchiness, she would practically glue herself to him during their movie nights. Unaware of both her actions and surroundings, (Y/N)’s breathing quickened, becoming ragged. Maybe he didn’t like the way she called him three times a week. Her hands were slowly losing control over the wheel, over the vehicle she was driving. She invaded his privacy. That was definitely it. Fuck. How could she have been so damn blind, selfish, ignorant, FUCKING STUPID.

Lights. Something was moving towards her- MOVE.

With a sharp turn, she dodged the approaching car just by a hair’s breadth, but as she had avoided one accident, another came just as quickly. 

[some-kindofgnome]

Kinktober #29: Fade In: Katsuki Bakugou

On a late-night movie date, you and Bakugou have the theatre to yourselves. You take advantage. 

Characters: Katsuki Bakugou / f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!), aged-up characters, overworked pro hero Bakugou, movie theatre (public) sex, lots of dirty talk, Bakugou’s sailor mouth

Notes: Today’s prompt was “Dirty Talk.” The premise is inspired by real-life events that are FAR more innocent than I’m making them sound. 😂  I’m enjoying writing all of these little Bakugou bits! Let me know if you want to see more of our grumpy boi after Kinktober.

Kinktober Masterlist

The city is buzzing with life, even at 10pm on a Tuesday.

You drag Bakugou out of the train station, practically hauling him up the stairs and dashing across the street in the last few seconds of a walk light. A few months ago, you’d have been amazed that he’s even holding your hand in public, but these days he’s quite happy to- even if he pouts the whole time.

It’s a warmer night for the season, so you’ve got on something cute- with a playful little skirt swishing around your bare thighs. You figure there’s no better night to push your comfort zone than one you plan to spend sitting in a dark theatre.

Comfort zone or not, you feel cute. Especially given how many glances you’ve caught Bakugou stealing at your legs.

You’re meeting this late on a weeknight because it’s the only chance that Bakugou actually has to see you. He’s been busting ass night and day at the agency lately, and he’s been pulling weekends for months. You’ve got work in the morning, but you’re so thrilled to actually go out with him you don’t mind.

It’s not like your job is particularly exciting these days, anyway.

You file into the theatre, snag a popcorn to share, and take your seats. You’re the first ones in the theatre, which doesn’t surprise you- this movie’s been out for a while, and it’s not exactly a primetime showing.

Besides, you’re early.

You catch up a little, taking handfuls of buttery popcorn. Bakugou does not like taking on the role of sidekick, but he’s way ahead of the rest of his classmates even landing a job like that at twenty-one. Still, everyone knows that sidekicks are some of the most overworked heroes in the game.

It’s not until the theatre goes dark and the previews start that you realize. Nobody else is coming.

Holy shit.

“Are we seriously the only ones in this theatre right now?” You turn to Bakugou in nervous disbelief. He gives an absent little shrug, reaching for more popcorn.

“I’ll still kick your ass if you start texting halfway through.” He shoots you a wicked smirk, stroking an indulgent palm affectionately over your thigh. You’ve still got goosebumps from the chill outside, but fresh ones race across your skin when he touches you.

It’s been a while. For both of you.

“Be honest.” His voice is gruff in your ear, cutting deeper than the noisy previews that flash across the giant screen. “You wore that skirt for me, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t wear it for anyone,” you chide. You rest your palm on top of his. His fingers curl against your thigh- and yours curl around his.

“So fuckin’ cute,” he growls. He nips at the lobe of your ear and you suppress a gasp. “Looked so naughty, stickin’ out the bottom of your jacket. Like you were walkin’ around the city with nothin’ on.”

“Stop,” you chide, heat rushing to your face. “We’re-“

“What? In public?”

Whatever witty retort you had planned dies in your throat. You’re the only ones in here. It’s dark. The doors are shut. The music is loud.

You’re not sure how long it’s actually been since they needed someone up there in the projection booth, but you’re pretty certain it’s empty.

Bakugou slips an arm around your shoulders and tugs you in close. He nuzzles the spot where your ear meets your jaw, then tilts his chin up and nibbles at the same place.

It’s getting harder to say no to him. Not that you were ever trying very hard to begin with.

You relax into his affections as the previews end and the movie itself rolls. The opening credits begin with a burst of music as you turn your head and surrender yourself to a searing kiss. Bakugou twines his fingers into your hair and tugs gently, tilting your head back for access to the bare column of your throat.

“D’you have… any idea… how long… I’ve been thinking about this,” he gasps into your skin. You try not to whimper. It doesn’t work.

Bakugou’s rough palm slides up the tender skin of your inner thigh. You part your legs just a little, encouraging him. His fingertips brush beneath the hem of your skirt. You’re already damp and heated, ready for him after what feels like a lifetime apart.

You’ve seen each other plenty over the past couple of weeks, but it was always in passing. You’d drop by the agency at lunch (and embarrass the shit out of him in the process), he’d come home to you exhausted on weeknights and pass out seconds after falling into bed. He’s so fucking overworked these days it’s a wonder he’s got any libido left at all.

You’re going to take what you can get.

“Fuck,” he snarls as his mouth trails back to your ear. “You’re wet for me already, sweetness? I knew you were into this kinda shit. So dirty, sweetheart, so fuckin’ naughty.”

“Katsuki,” you plead. He’s running his mouth especially hard tonight. It’s doing more for you than you’d care to admit.

“That’s it, baby,” he continues. “I know it makes you sloppy when I talk to you like this. C’mere, sweetness, lemme take care of you.”

He slips his arm down to your waist and drags you over the armrest into his lap. You don’t fight him, letting your thighs spread across his jeans. Immediately, he anchors one powerful arm around your waist to hold you in place, sliding his other hand between your thighs and pushing your underwear to the side.

“God,” he gasps against your shoulder as he sinks two fingers into your tight heat. “I’ve missed your pussy. I’ve missed fuckin’ you so goddamn much.”  He draws his fingers back and pushes them in again, settling into a slow rhythm. You’re right there with him, rolling your hips smoothly into his touch.

He’s hard already, stiff and excited down one leg of his jeans. You felt it the second he tugged you onto his thighs, and you’re not shy about rubbing yourself against it.

“That’s it, baby,” he growls. “You want it? You want my cock, right here in the fuckin’ theatre? You do, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you find yourself whining. You never used to be adventurous. Not before Katsuki came along. But he makes you wild.

He lets go of you and you lean forward a little, letting him scoot backwards to fumble with his fly. He unzips, pulling his thick cock out and hiking your skirt up. You feel it, heated and already dripping with precum, against your ass.

With one hand braced on your hip, he lifts you. You tug your underwear out of the way and hold it there. As you sink down on him, he lets his head fall back against the seat with a feral groan.

“God damn, sweetness. Fuck, you’re as fuckin’ tight as ever. So goddamn wet for me. That’s it, ride my fat fucking cock. Shit, you really know how to milk it outta me, don’t you?”

You start to rock your hips atop his, keeping the movements subtle. As you let go of your panties, your skirt flops back down around your thighs, concealing your union. Bakugou keeps one hand braced on your hip while the other roams, tugging your shirt out of the top of your skirt and slipping his palm over your chest.

“Not… gonna last long,” he warns tightly behind you.

“Me neither,” you pant. It’s been too long for both of you.

Bakugou loses patience and lifts you by the hips, planting his feet on the sticky theatre floor and rutting up into you with a sloppy slap slap slap. He pants hard into your shoulder, sucking and biting at your tender skin and growling more filth into your ear.

“That’s better. God, I really needed to fuck you, baby. Look at you. You’re gonna cum so fast on just my cock. You’ve been holdin’ out on me this whole time, huh?”

He’s right. You’re tipping your head back against his shoulder and riding out the waves of pleasure he pumps into you. He knows your body well- he can feel the way your thighs begin to tense and shake as you get ready to cum.

“Fuck, Katsuki… b-baby, I…” Your voice dies in your throat as your peak hits you, tight and silent. You dig your fingers into the fabric armrests on either side of your hips and grip him tight, descending into shivers atop him.

“Jesus Christ, baby, you’re squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight.” Bakugou’s voice is beginning to break, too, but he keeps it down hard and growls softly from the depths of his chest. “Wet little pussy drippin’ out all over me. God, you’re such a mess. Fuck, I can’t wait to fill you up. Gonna put so much cum in your belly, sweetness. Gonna make you so messy for me. Getting so fuckin’ close, baby, oh, shit, oh g-gah…”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence either. He cums hard beneath you, intense and sudden and fast. The wet burst of him inside you is harder than you anticipated but you let him fill you. You let him fuck out the pleasure and you let him collapse, spent, into the plush chair behind him.

His jeans are a mess. Your underwear is, too. Slowly, you work your way off of him and he tucks himself back into his pants. You settle into the pleasant weight of each other. To your immense surprise, nobody finds you. Nobody discovers what you’ve done. You leave the theatre without incident and later, when he takes you home, he fucks you twice more.

The next morning, your coworker slinks eagerly up to you in the break room as you’re grabbing your first cup of bitter office-brew. You didn’t get much rest last night.

“So?” She nudges you, grinning wickedly. “What’d you think?”

“Of what?” You eye her sleepily.

She rolls her eyes. “Duh. The movie. How was it?”

“Oh.” Your brain freezes up. You panic. Think of something to say. Quick. “It was… great. Such a cute ending.”

Quite an answer, considering it was a horror movie she’d recommended yesterday.