#he’s the only person I really like talking to every day or even want to talk to that much as it is

[sukunasluvrr]

DILF!kuna who was the father of your teen daughters friend. Uraume was a timid person around others but visibly good raised by the older and rather intimidating guy

DILF!kuna who didn’t make much conversation whenever you picked up your daughter from his place after sleepovers, the simple “hi, I’m here to pick up my kid” and him calling uraume over to let them know and simply saying your goodbyes was all it ever was. Nobody could deny Sukuna looked good. God, his voice alone was enough to make your thighs squeeze together in silence and whenever his muscles flexes you swore he did it on purpose to taunt you, especially when he walked around without a shirt at home- of course only when your kid wasn’t around.

DILF!kuna who one day reached out to you privately, which kind of surprised you and at the same time made you think something bad happened, only for him to ask you out on a date the next time your kids had a sleepover at his place. Who would pass up that chance tho?

DILF!kuna who turns out to be a really sweet man, sure he looks big and scary but he ended up paying for your meal and was acting cocky yet kind to you the whole night. He does know how to treat his women after all.

DILF!kuna who ended up fucking you in the backseats of his car because he was too impatient to get back to your place, pressing you face down ass up into the leather seats and thrusting into from behind, leaving you a babbling mess with drool leaving your lips in a way you barely noticed until he called it out

“Awww look at you!! Already cockdrunk, hm? Seems like you never got it this good then”

And to prove his point, he only pushed deeper into you, leaning down and his hand snaking around to give your clit a few swirls, wanting to feel you tighten and loosen up around his thick girth with each flick of his finger

“How about I give you a baby hm? You want that? Be all swollen because of me? Become a mom for a second time, sweet thing??”

You could barely register his words, the only thing you could hear were the words ‘give you a baby’ and ‘sweet thing’ and god his dick was cruel. Repeatedly hitting your g-spot and making you leak fluids down your slick, stretched hole and smear all over your skin and his balls

“Mfff, y-yes!!!”

He actually laughed at your response. Laughed at how dazed you sounded

“That’s it. Give you a bunch of brats, hm? Bet you’ll look good, saw the- Fuck. Saw some pics of you pregnant”

You didn’t know where he saw them, figuring he saw them on your moms Facebook page, which only left you to wonder how he knew your moms name. But that’s a concern for later, his pace becoming more relentless the more he felt your cunt squeeze around him, not caring how much the car was shaking, not caring if they’d get fined with a ticket, all he could care about was your sweet pussy gripping his dick like a vice. His free hand grabbing a hold of your ass cheek to spread it a little so he could try and slide even deeper into you, his sack making contact with your clit which made a gasp leave your lips, mixed with more moans of your pleasure. His own groans were lingering around the cramped space, praising you and sweet talking you while his dick was ruining your insides for any other man, making sure your inner walls moulded to his hefty girth and make it impossible for any other man to pleasure you like he did. You didn’t know if you were whimpering from the stretch that came with the new angle, or the way his thumb was wiping over your asshole

“I feel like every part of you is cute… god- even your little hole here is tempting”

And he had half the mind to slip his thumb in, but he didn’t. Focusing his movement inside your cunt and the hand that was still on your clit, giving mean circles over it that had your back arching further and thighs twitching

“I need you to cum for me sweet thing, make me proud eh”

And like a slut you did… moaning his name as you came messily around his dick, he had a shit eating grin on his face as he gave a a few more pumps of his hips before he let out a sound that almost sounded like a whimper, ending up cumming deep inside your cunny and groaning in satisfaction as he felt himself fill you up with his seed. Seeming lost in his own world while he kept himself quiet but not pulling out just yet, leaning down against and burying his face in the crook of your neck and kissing over your sweaty skin, the older man being almost completely able to wrap around you

“Mhm… how about you move in with me? Brats would love it I bet”

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

General Sevika Headcannons

Sevika x Female Reader (Fluff)

Content (w): You’re horny in like.. once? Angst at the end, but its short.

Proofread || Note: I didn’t mean to disappear, writers block got to me :( Kinda short and this is, a tiny bit, rushed.

MEN DO NOT INTERACT!!!!

Random

Big on whistling. Does it when she needs your attention, when she’s checking you out, even when she’s teasing. She likes seeing the look on your face. Especially eye rolls, do one with a face and she’s giddy.

Insanely good at Sudoku. She picked it up a while back when Silco taught her the magic behind the numbers. Now, she’ll challenge the old man and watch as he pinches the bridge of his nose while she’s smiling smugly.

Loves when call her, or anything that belongs to her, cool. She likes being cool. That’s probably why she lets her cape fly off during fights.

Hates her glasses, mainly because they lack functionality, but enjoys seeing you thirst over them. She’d going blind and you’re over here drooing over her, she loves that. And, just for fun, she’ll wear a turtleneck; which, gets you hornier than ever.

Expression

Is she good at being romantic? No. She’s never had someone to be.. soft with. In a way, you’re the first person she’s ever opened up to. Be it letting you know her interests, her dislikes, her favourites, or just small, “not so very tough” things about her. However, she’s only just getting used to those things.

Flowers is all Sevika really knows. On her way back from her backbreaking job, she’ll grab you a few flowers from the market or straight up pluck one she randomly saw and surprise you.

Not so good with words. That woman doesn’t have a clue on how to comfort you. Why? Because she’s never been in a situation where she’s had someone talk her through her problems. Where she’s been able to let slip an ounce of vulnerability. Tragic, but she’s learning.

Things she does that she doesn’t realize

Stares so much that, before the two of met, it scared you. You thought you were her next target and lived in fear for the next week or so until the woman, finally, decided to talk to you. And, after a few months of dating you finally brought it up. She denied it at first but, when she caught herself staring at you a million more times she came clean.

“I was only appreciating you.” She brings it up so abruptly that you’re confused, “what are you talking about?”

With a sip of her whiskey, she rolls her eyes and sighs.

“Nothing..”

Her grip’s a little too hard. Her flesh fingers always end up digging into your waist whenever she’s trying to keep you close. Your girlfriend never noticed it until you had to talk to her about the slight redness she had left on your skin. And, for the next week, Sevika brought home boquets of flowers— not the cheap kind— every day until you told her you forgave her. (You didn’t know she wanted you to say so.)

So sassy that you sometimes have to take deep breaths in order to not tell her off. It’s not on purpose, she’s just so used to having that tone. One time you thought she was pissed at you when, in reality, she was just trying to find the next row for her Sudoku round.

Snores loudly. Jannah have mercy on your soul because that woman will not stop snoring for the love of her life. You’ve tried giving her different pillows, different positions, anything and everything, but nothing seems to work. Somehow, over time, you found a way to fall asleep with her deep snores beside you, even though, sometimes, you want to smack her in the face with a pillow.

Dislikes/Hates

Being ignored. Sevika will, quite literally, go insane if you ever give her the silent treatment. She’s not used to being treated like she’s not there— hell, she’s one of the most respected woman in Zaun, why would she be alright with not being acknowledged? Just to get back at you, she’ll annoy you until you break. Chewing loudly in your ear or shaking you up by heavily sitting on the couch beside you, she’s determined, and she knows you know that.

Her own overthinking. She’s been through a lot, and she doesn’t know why you still stick around with all her problems. Even the risk of you being in danger, because of her, makes her stay awake at night, she doesn’t want to lose you and she hates how her mind needs constant reassurance that you want the same thing. Even though she rarely says the amount of doubts she has, she’ll hit you with this look that only you can read. It’s a silent need that you, happily, provide. Murmuring soft words she’ll end up being embarrassed about later.

The saddest one of them all: her face. :(((( Seeing herself in the mirror makes her feel a sense of shame that she’s never fully able to verbally express. It’s the scars that make her feel self conscious, the wrinkles on her face that makes her groan, the masculinity of her jaw that makes her question herself. But, luckily for her, she’s got this amazing girlfriend, you, who will reassure all her problems away. You swoop in when you hear how quiet the apartment has gotten, follow behind her and give her a few looks of awe and comment on whatever she needs you to. Tell her she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen and she’ll melt. Smiling like some teenager while looking away in embarrassment; in that moment, she’s thinking about how lucky she is to have you with blush on her cheeks.

[cognitiveoverload]

Rejection (Aaron Hotchner x reader)

summary: Being Hotch’s favorite is hard, but when he suddenly asks you out, you don’t really know if you’d like to make things harder for yourself.

tags: fem!tech analyst!reader

note: There will be more parts, not necessarily in chronological order. What do you think, what situations will they find themselves in? Send an ask with your idea, and let’s see what will happen.

At first, it was just a casual and genuinely innocent observation from Spencer. “Have you noticed that Hotch calls only you if he needs something?” he asked one day as he sat between you and Penelope in your little den.

But then this comment spread through the BAU like wildfire, making everyone think back of all the times their boss needed information, and look at that, they all remembered the same detail–it’s not just the fact he was always calling you, it was the fact he always called you by your first name.

And that’s how the constant teasing began. Derek, Emily, JJ and Penelope tormented you, with Spencer occasionally joining to spit out some facts about the both of you, while Rossi targeted Hotch as far as you knew. It was mortifying, really, but you got used to it.

What you still can't get used to is the change in your boss’ behavior. Recently he’s been different, although you can’t quite put a finger on what it is that changed. Sure, maybe he shows up a little more often in your office, strictly when Penelope isn’t around, and he brings you coffee when you’re working late or arrive a little too early as he does.

“How are you holding up?”

You turn your swivel chair around to look at Hotch, who’s standing in the door with an almost worried expression on his face. He sent Penelope home a few hours ago when a case affected her too much, and now apparently it was time for another wellness check in your little office. It’s hard to miss the way he’s flexing his fingers, a clear sign that he’s nervous, although you’re not a profiler, so you remain silent before you say something stupid.

Thinking about his question, you realize one thing. “It didn’t really affect me. Does this mean something’s wrong with me?” you ask him.

His lips part as he takes a shallow breath and thinks about what you just said. For a moment you think he’ll not give you an answer, but then he sits on the edge of your desk and watches you with a small smile. “It only means you’re tough. Look, you said, ‘It didn’t really affect me,’ which tells me it did affect you, just not as intensely as it did Garcia for example,” he explains kindly.

Nodding, you look down at your hands in your lap, but your gaze rises when he bumps his leg into your thigh. You expect him to say something, but Hotch remains silent, and he even acts like he didn’t do anything at all. There is one little thing that’s different, though. That barely visible smirk, the one you’ve all seen before.

Times like this it’s hard to comprehend the extremes in his behavior. He can act like this, so kind and supportive, but he can play rough too, especially when he loses control. And times like that, like a few days ago when he yelled at an agent who tried to take a case from him, you can’t help but think about how he could yell at you any time with you even thanking him.

Because, as pathetic as it might sound, an angry Hotch is simply irresistible. You probably have some issues that should be analyzed, but that’s tomorrow’s problem.

“I often wonder how you all can do this every single day. Penelope told me to brace myself when I arrived, but… It’s hard sometimes,” you admit quietly. “Yet, there are cases that don’t really make me feel anything. I can’t really wrap my head around that.”

His brown eyes soften in sync with his expression, and then his lips curl into a smile. “You’re a good person, never forget that. Not feeling anything might be your brain’s way of protecting you. Either way, if you ever want to talk, you know where to find me,” he tells you as he stands up.

You nod, then return to your computer once he’s heading to the door. But then the sound of footsteps suddenly dies, and when you turn around to see if he has just disappeared into thin air, you find him watching you with a thoughtful look. Your brows furrow in confusion, but you don’t say anything, you just wait for him to spit out whatever’s on his mind.

“Aren’t you hungry?” he asks casually.

It seems like an innocent, regular question between co-workers. The members of the BAU often team up in pairs or bigger groups to grab something, even Hotch joins them for a drink in a bar or dinner in some restaurant nearby. But he has never, ever gone out to eat with someone alone. Maybe with Rossi, but that doesn’t count.

So, it’s no wonder you have to think about the offer. You would be on thin ice, the team already has a little too much fun with the fact Hotch is playing favorites with you. If you have dinner with him alone, they might think you’ve been in some secret relationship all along.

In the end, the rational–or maybe rather paranoid��side of your brain makes the final decision. “Thanks, but I’d rather go home after I finish this,” you say, pointing at your computer.

He nods, and you begin to think he’s about to leave, but then he gulps and takes a deep breath, as if he’s gathering the strength or courage to say whatever’s on his mind. “I have paperwork that can’t wait, but I can give you a ride home after I’m done,” he offers, and there’s a look in his eyes that you can’t quite identify.

“No need, I’ll be fine, but thanks anyway,” you tell him with a forced smile.

The last thing you need and want is Hotch taking you home. He means well, you know that, but you can’t risk being seen by someone who could easily start a rumor. The problem is, he’s almost as old as your dad, so people would talk about your nonexistent daddy issues, and he’s your boss, which would only make things worse.

So far the whole joke about being his favorite is something that stayed within the team, but if it gets out and reaches HR, you’re both done. You don’t want that, but not because of yourself. Hotch is ambitious, he’s insanely good at office politics, and if he wants to be promoted, he can’t be involved in such scandals.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by the sigh that leaves his lips. He looks almost disappointed, which is something you don’t really understand, because you can’t remember anything that could be even remotely rude. What is his problem? Or is there something he wants to talk about, something he wants to get off his chest?

Before you know it, he closes the door and walks back to you. “I’ve been making offers, and you turn down each and every one of them without hesitation. Why?” You can’t help but give him a confused look, because you have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about. Well, you know, but why does it bother him? “Is it because we would be alone?”

“It’s just… Wouldn’t it be weird?” you ask.

He inhales and exhales slowly before he suddenly crouches in front of you. “Look, there is a chance it will be weird, yes, but why don’t we give it a shot to see, huh? Come on, just you and me. If you’re afraid someone we both know will see us, we can go somewhere away from the usual crowd.”

You tilt your head to the side as you watch him, observing the look in his eyes, the small smile that makes your heart melt, and you simply can’t get yourself to say no to him. “Why?” you ask, although you know the answer, you just want to hear him say it.

“I’m sure I don’t have to spell it out for you,” he says with a boyish smile.

Gulping, you nod. A date. Aaron Hotchner wants to go on a date with you. But he’s your boss, if you started a relationship, there would be the danger of the aftermath of a breakup. Would you really like to risk it? You love this job, you love this team, you love Penelope, losing them wouldn’t be worth it.

You lick your lips as you push your chair back to build some distance. “I really have to get back to work now, and I’m sure Jack would be happy if you got home before bedtime,” you say, even though it hurts to turn down the invitation.

Hotch lets out a disappointed sigh as he stands up. “If you change your mind… you know. Good night.”

“Good night.”

[harrywavycurly]

Absolutely loving killer Harry! I love how protective of us he is and how just caring and in love he is with us. Though has there ever been a time where he was the one where he desperately needed someone or us for comfort? Has he ever been that vulnerable with us?

Hiii lovey!! So I think 100000% Harry has had moments of insecurity and thinks he’s not enough for you and that’s sort of why he needs you to comfort him a bit! So I hope you enjoy this!!💖

Find all things Loving a Killer here✨

CW: Harry is a killer in this series but it’s only mentioned briefly and no details are given in this update about what he’s done.

Tag List: @umadirectioner @styleswithaseaview @sunflower-tia

Summary: Harry has a bad day and just needs you to comfort him a bit✨

It’s rare that Harry lets anyone see him at his lowest when the weight of all the horrible things he’s done rests on his shoulders and he feels as if he doesn’t deserve the happiness he’s found in life, the happiness he has all because of you. You’re the one person who has seen Harry in this state, he doesn’t bother putting up a wall with you because you know him too well and while he does keep things from you, such as what he really does for a living, he is actually very forthcoming with his feelings with you because most of the time it’s just him telling you how much he loves you and how you’re the best thing that ever happened to him. But something he’s learned in his years of being with you and especially in the years he’s been married to you is that it’s just as important for him to share how he’s feeling in the not so great moments as well as the happy ones, it’s what helps you understand him a bit more and get to see his more vulnerable side that he doesn’t share with anyone else.

That’s why having Harry’s head resting in your lap while you’re sat at the edge of the bed with him on his knees between your legs isn’t that shocking, you could tell he was feeling a little down the moment he got home from work a few hours earlier. You run a hand through his hair as he lets out a sigh and closes his eyes, the feeling of your nails lightly scratching his scalp making him relax the tiniest bit. He hasn’t said anything to you minus that he loves you but that was as he was getting ready for bed, he’s been silence since then even when he dropped to his knees in front of you while you were putting your lotion on and rested his head in your lap and securely wrapped himself around you and you don’t mind because you know he will talk when he’s ready.

“Can I ask you something?” You look down at him as he mumbles his question into the fabric of your pajama pants.

“You can ask me anything you want.” You tell him as your free hand rests on the top of his shoulder so you can give it a small squeeze.

“Do you think you’ll always love me?” He knows he shouldn’t be asking you this while you have no clue about the horrible things he does and has done in the time you’ve known him but he just needs some reassurance in this very moment so he doesn’t really care how unfair he’s being.

“I know I’ll always love you.” You answer with a smile as you continue running your fingers through his hair. “There’s nothing you could do that would ever make me stop loving you.” Your soft and gentle tone lets him know you mean every word and Harry wants to smile but he can’t because of the guilt he feels knowing that he’s already done plenty of things that would make all the love you have for him fade away and turn into disgust and anger.

“I don’t deserve you.” He says with a sigh as his arms around your middle tighten almost as if he’s afraid that if his hold on you loosens even just the tiniest bit you’ll slip away from him. You feel the corners of your mouth drop at his words, hating that whatever thoughts he’s got swirling around in his mind are making him feel like he’s not good enough. You bring your hand up and place it on his cheek that’s not pressed against your thighs, you softly run your thumb over his cheekbone as your other hand plays with the hair at the back of his neck.

“Well I know you don’t hear this a lot but you’re wrong.” You watch as your words make Harry’s mouth twitch like he’s fighting off a smile. “You deserve me because I deserve you.” You swallow the small lump that’s forming in your throat as you look over at your nightstand that has a photo of you and Harry from your wedding day sitting in a pretty frame next to your lamp.

“No one can love me the way you do. No one can make me feel like I’m the most important person in the whole world the way you do. No one can protect me the way you do. So you saying you don’t deserve me is like you’re trying to tell me I don’t deserve the kind of happiness that I only get when I’m with you.” Harry’s eyes open as soon as he hears you sniffle and you don’t even have time to wipe away the few tears that have escaped before he’s sitting up making your hands fall into your lap while his come up to gently cup the sides of your face, his thumbs softly wiping away the tears for you.

“You deserve all the happiness in the world.” He tells you with as much softness he can muster as he feels his heart begin to crack at the sight of you getting upset because you just want him to know how loved he makes you feel. While he’s glad he makes you feel this way he also hates that a part of him knows the reason he goes so overboard with his love and affection for you is because he thinks maybe if he treats you the best he possibly can you won’t want to leave the moment you find out the monster he really is.

“And I get that when I’m with you.” Harry hates knowing your happiness is tied up in being with him because he knows there’s a small possibility that somewhere down the line he won’t be able to be around anymore, either because a job goes wrong or someone stumbles upon his preferred burial site that holds more than a few skeletons of his. “Is there something wrong that we need to work on? Are you not-”

“No baby there’s nothing wrong.” He says quickly stopping you from asking any other questions because he can’t stand the thought of you thinking you have anything to do with his mood this evening. “I just sometimes think this-this life we’ve made with each other is almost too good to be true and-and I get in my head about how one day you’re going to realize how fucked up I am and you’ll run for the hills.” His thumbs are still softly rubbing over your cheeks as he finally lets you in on the types of things that have been rolling around in his mind lately.

“I already know how fucked up you are Harry.” His eyes stare into yours as you bring your hands up and rest them on top of his. “You wake up before the sun rises to work out. You also prefer cold showers unless I’m joining you and force you to take a hot one. You are so organized I don’t even know where half our stuff even is. And you eat beans on toast. You’re an actual freak.” You explain with a small sniffle while you wrap your hands around his wrists, Harry appreciates your attempt at trying to change the mood of the conversation because he doesn’t know how much longer he can watch tears slip down your face.

“But you love me right?” He asks as he leans in to place a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll never love anyone the way I love you so don’t think even for a minute that I’ll ever leave you okay?” Harry just nods as you give his wrists a squeeze and that’s when you notice his eyes have gotten a little misty. “I promise I’m not going anywhere.” You reassure him as you move your hands from his wrist and up to his face while his hands drop to your shoulders.

“Good.” You smile as you feel him lean into your touch. “You mean everything to me you know that right?” You give him a small nod as you hear the emotion in his voice. “I love you.” He says softly as you lean in and rest your forehead against his as a few stray tears roll down his face. “I’m sor-” Harry’s apology is cut off by the feeling of your lips on his in a sweet kiss.

“I love you too.” You mumble against his lips as his hands slip into your hair keeping your face close to his. “You don’t have to apologize to me. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Harry closes his eyes for a moment as you take your thumbs and wipe away the last of his tears while he take a few seconds to let your words sink in, ignoring the ever present guilt that wants to work its way up his chest and into his throat so he can come clean and just tell you everything he’s done wrong that would make you change your mind and demand an apology and probably a divorce from him.

But Harry decides that while yes he does unspeakable things and hurts people for a living, there’s a reason he walked into the cafe you worked at all those years ago and maybe it was because the universe or whatever it may be knew you were exactly what he needed in his life. He felt lost before he met you, just going through the motions of life with no real purpose until you came along and gave him one. That’s why he will always drop whatever he’s doing if you need him because your happiness is his main priority and it’s the same reason he’d leave and make sure you never saw him again if you ever do decide to be done with him.

He hasn’t ever loved anyone as much as he loves you and as he leans in and places a kiss to your lips he knows you love him just as much when he feels you pull him closer when you think he’s about to pull away, not wanting him to get too far but you have nothing to worry about because Harry isn’t going anywhere. The two of you are it for each other and he feels a sense of relief wash over him as that realization hits him, momentarily putting him at ease.

“You really think I’m a freak because of the beans on toast thing?” He teases once you actually allow him to pull away and you roll your eyes as he places little kisses to the tip of your nose and then both cheeks.

“Yes.” He smiles as you run a hand through his hair. “But you’re my freak.”

“Oh really? And here I was thinking you were my little freak.” He chuckles at the way your cheeks get pink as he leans down and gives you a quick peck making you smile when he pulls away. It’s a smile that makes Harry’s heart want to burst because it’s the smile you give him when he can tell you’re truly happy and that’s all Harry wants, he just wants to be able to make you smile like that for as long as he can.

[01zfan]

contact pt. 2

ex!shotaro x ex!reader | 10.6k words

the part two literally two people asked for. i can't help that i can't get shotaro out of my mind especially THIS shotaro.

contains: breaking up, exes with benefits, miscommunication, mushy gushy stuff, and comfort from not busy diners and soup-and-sandwich specials

contact: part 1 | part 2

You didn’t meet Shotaro on purpose. 

You met him on an impromptu journey of self discovery that lead you to the diner off campus. You thought you’d devise a plan to become a person that put themselves out there in the comfort of the place you went to nearly every day. Craft yourself a new personality over the best soup-and-sandwich lunch special the town had to offer, one of the few places that was so uninhabited you often got the entire place to yourself. 

The closest thing you had to a friend was Giselle, the part time server that had mainly night classes. Your opposing schedules made it so you could never really hang out, but you admittedly preferred it that way. You two had an unspoken acknowledgement of the fact that your lives were total opposites. On Giselle’s Instagram you found out that she was involved in nightlife and other things beyond your single dorm. On your Instagram she found out you were never going to go to a party even if you seemed to really consider an invitation. 

You liked the relationship you had with her currently, small doses of you in the form of sitting at your table between stretches of dead periods in the diner or when she was on break. That was probably the manifestation of another problem you had, but that was neither here nor there. What mattered was that you had uncharacteristically built such a rapport with someone to the point that they knew your name, what spot in the diner you liked, and what you were going to order. 

Giselle brought you your food and sat across from you in the booth seat. She messed with the end of her high ponytail. Being friends with Giselle was easy. She didn’t hide anything, you didn’t know if she even knew how to. When you started at her blonde roots down to the cotton candy pink hair carding through her fingers you wanted to ask if it was damaged. When she sighed heavily you knew something was wrong. A perfect opening for conversation, so you didn’t have to force her to sit in silence with you.

“Long day?” You asked.

“Long week.” She answered.

“It’s only Tuesday.” You said.

“Tell me about it.” Giselle sighed again, putting her head in one hand as her other continued messing with her hair. You turned your plate towards her, offering the other half of your cranberry chicken sandwich. Giselle reached forward and dug her fingernails into one half to tear it into two pieces. She took the smaller portion. “I can’t wait for this week to be over.”

You nodded your head knowingly. If anyone had the right to be tired, it was Giselle. Between her involvement on campus, her work schedule, and her nightlife you didn’t know how she did it all. 

“When are you off work?” You asked.

“In like twenty minutes. But,” Giselle brought her hands to her eyes and rubbed them profusely. “Shotaro is coming so we can talk about. Something.” She said.

Giselle had the habit of thinking you knew the same people she did. More often than not she would mention someone’s name in passing, each time you would have to remind your friend you very much did not know who the person was. So when Giselle mentioned Shotaro, the one who was in her financial analyst class, you still shook your head.

“I’ve never met him.” You said.

Before Giselle could tell you an unimportant fact as if that would jog your memory, the tiny bell above the front door went off. Giselle turned around before you could peer over her shoulder to see who came in. She checked her watch, turning the loose band on her wrist so she could see the time.

“You’re early.” She chided.

“Had to get here before you left like last time.” He said.

Shotaro’s hand went to Giselle’s shoulder and squeezed it affectionately. You didn’t even get a chance to assume that they were together before he was already looking to you with curiosity. You don’t know why it made the hairs on the back of your neck raise, but you’d come to find out that being at the receiving end of Shotaro’s attention would always make you feel that way.

You didn’t meet Shotaro on purpose. 

Giselle always made sure to emphasize that when she told the story of how she brought you two together. She became your self-appointed love guru and wing woman when she told Shotaro about you like you weren’t sitting right in front of them. She patted herself on the back for keeping the conversation going when you would get nervous and stop talking. She always bragged about how she was able to set up a date between her two friends right before the dinner rush at her work.

Because you met Shotaro through Giselle, and you met in the diner you always came to, he became the de facto third person in previous duo with Giselle. Purely on technicality, and it made sense because the two ran in the same massive social circle, and the diner was one of the few places you ventured to in your small bubble. So more than Giselle saw Shotaro through mutual friends and school mixers and non-school parties she saw him with you, shoulders touching as he whispered playfully in your ear or leaned over to show you something on his phone. 

Seeing you two together was such a common occurrence that when you showed up to the diner without him in tow, she knew something was off. When you stayed focused on your food instead of looking up at her, Giselle tried her best to be neutral.

“Where’s Shotaro?” With her eyebrows raised she leaned down to try and get you at eye level with her. “Haven’t seen him in awhile.” She said.

Her hesitancy made you think she already knew the answer. Still you focused on your food and not her, looking directly at your caprese sandwich.

“We broke up.” You answered simply.

Giselle’s eyes went wide. You were so silent it was almost overshadowed by the rest of the chatter in the diner, and you provided no other explanation. You just continued to eat your food, looking at the your plate instead of your worried friend.

“Woah.” When you only nodded in acknowledgment you felt the overwhelming concern come from your friend as she simultaneously tried to mask it. You cleared your throat and pushed your food around your plate as Giselle sputtered in front of you. “What happened? Are you okay?” She asked.

Only then were you able to look up from your food. You looked right past her to watch a couple walk by your booth to be seated. You nodded, turning your focus to the bell above the front entrance past Giselle.

“I am.” You answered. 

When you had nothing else to stare at, you went back to your plate. You messed with the edge, feeling the need to prove yourself more than the need to eat.

“I broke up with him. In case you didn’t know.” You added.

You could argue that Giselle’s shocked reaction was part of the reason you called it off.

“What happened? I thought everything was going well between you guys.” She said.

There were no secrets you were keeping from her about your relationship with Shotaro, if anything you were keeping how good you had it hidden away. There was no one else in your life that was so willing to put their lifestyle on hold for you. No one who wanted to give up their weekends outside to be inside up with you, no one that was as patient or caring or warm and gentle. No one was considerate of your heart to never break it, even if you were ill-matched.

But there was the overwhelming burden that started becoming unbearable when you realized you were pulling Shotaro further and further away from his life. You had no right to keep him inside, to stop him from enjoying his youth. 

You didn’t even know that it was weighing on you so heavily until you dropped the bombshell. Randomly on a Friday night, right when Netflix asked if you were still watching and Shotaro’s phone lit up with another message from his friend asking where he was at.

“I think we should break up.” You said casually.

“Sure babe.” You could feel Shotaro’s chest vibrate against your back as he silenced his phone. 

When you didn’t reply and when you didn’t press Yes, I’m still watching his demeanor completely changed. He froze behind you, peering over your shoulder to try and get a good look at your face.

“Wait, you’re serious?” He asked.

When you still didn’t respond Shotaro got up from his spot behind you completely. You both sat up your feet dangling over the edge of the sofa as he looked at you confused. Too many times you felt like you were trying to play catch up with Shotaro. You had to constantly learn his new friends names and the birthdays and the hangouts and the parties and the cool restaurants you had no idea about. You felt sick satisfaction seeing him try to catch up to you for once. 

When your words finally settled and Netflix went back to the homepage he let out a slow breath.

“Can I ask why?” 

You felt yourself grasping at straws as you tried to find the reason. He was with you on a Friday night instead of going out to the party his friends spent a week telling him about. They were still holding out hope, not knowing that the thing indirectly keeping him in was you. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer him, that you were somehow yearning for something you couldn’t explain when you were doing fine on your own for so long. You only shook your head and repeated the sentiment.

“I just think we should break up.”

“I want to know why.” Shotaro pinched the bridge of his nose. He was always so patient with you. 

Not having an answer made everything worse. Walking out without saying a word was arguably even worse. You did both while Shotaro followed you around his apartment, trying to get you to talk to him.

Even the morning after the funeral you didn’t have an answer. Your body woke up in Shotaro’s bed before your mind did, surging yourself forward like you were in a nightmare. 

For a moment you panicked, blindly reaching for your phone that wasn’t there as you took in your environment. When you saw the familiar curtains and relief sunk in. But then when you really realized where you were, you panicked again.

“Good morning.”

Shotaro’s shirt was on your body, you were on his bed underneath the comforter he bought because he knew you always ran cold. He spoke to you slowly, looking at you from his desk. He eyed you from his office chair like you were unpredictable. He must’ve been right in some way, because being underneath his gaze made you want to bolt out his apartment through the window and lunge at him from your spot across the room. You tried to feign calmness, stretching like you didn’t just wake yourself up violently from your sleep. You rubbed your eyes and forced a yawn, trying hard to not look Shotaro in the face.

He picked at the bottom of his shirt, the one you were wearing last night before everything transpired between the two of you.

“Should we talk about last night?” He asked.

The way he asked it told you he already knew your answer. You still shook your head, looking down at the indent you were making on his mattress.

“Probably not.” You said quietly.

“Are you going to stay for breakfast?” He asked.

Same helpless infliction in his voice when he asked the first question. You shook your head the same, eyes on your pile of clothes neatly folded next to him.

“Probably not.” You repeated.

Shotaro nodded slowly. He knew you entirely too well. He turned away from you in his chair to face the dimly lit screen of his laptop. He started writing in his journal and typing, while you brought your legs closer and closer to your body. His room seemed a little colder, the floor was freezing underneath your feet when you slid off his bed. You padded around his room heel to toe, like you were trying your hardest to not make your presence known. But Shotaro always noticed, he always looked out for you in a way that made you panic. That’s why instead of continuing to ignore you for your sake he stopped typing on his computer when you reached forward to grab your neatly folded dress. 

“You can borrow my clothes.” Shotaro said.

You nodded silently before fully grabbing your dress. You didn’t know if Shotaro wasn’t looking at you as some sort of punishment for you avoiding to look at him but you admittedly felt grateful. The way he didn’t follow you through the space made it that much easier to leave without looking back.

There was three days of radio silence before either of you reached out. 

You fully intended to wait for Shotaro to tell you to bring back his clothes, or wait for a time in your schedule during the day to return his belongings. But after you called your mother and she guilt tripped you for leaving the wake without introducing Shotaro to all of your extended family you felt shitty. Then you went and bombed your exam that you were too emotionally drained to study for. Then it got unbelievably gloomy after your last class when you forgot your keys to your dorm. You sat in the lobby of your building, waiting for RA to come back from dinner so you could actually access your room. You felt that same sinking feeling you did outside of your mother’s house when you called Shotaro that night. You felt the same sense of overwhelming wrong that you just needed something to go right, or to completely top off the terrible day you were having by being rejected by him. 

You sat in the vinyl chair as you thought about your options. You leaned back in the seat and replayed the awful day you had. Your mother calling you rude for leaving the wake early. Your teacher recommending you to come by for tutoring. Realizing when you turned your locked door that your key was waiting on the other side. Your day made you reckless, you nearly slammed your fingers on the glass screen of your phone as you typed in Shotaro’s memorized number.

hey

can i come over?

it’s ok if you say no.

You waited in the lobby of your building, watching people come in and out. You envied those who had their keys ready to go in their hands, and the ones that seemed to have their lives together.

taro: what are you coming over here to do?

nothing

only going to stay an hour

taro: doors unlocked.

When you went over to Shotaro’s house a second time, there was less talking. Once you came through his door, Shotaro quickly filled in the unsaid gaps of your impromptu visit.

You take partial blame for the way you framed your text. Telling Shotaro you were staying only an hour made it seem like your visit was a hookup, squeezed into your very busy schedule. You didn’t get the chance to tell him you were waiting for your RA to unlock your door as you two stumbled through his apartment. 

Shotaro had his hands on your face as you blindly navigated the space, his lips on yours were bruising and almost rough as your legs hit the back of his couch. When you almost fell he pulled you tightly against his body, pulling a gasp from your already depleted lungs. You breathed hot air into his mouth, and drew the breath he was trying to take in through your nose. Still no words were said as you trusted him to guide you completely, your only job was to impatiently push open the door to his bedroom when he pressed you against it.

Instead of kissing you down to his bed gently like he had done all those times before, Shotaro turned you around. Before you could catch your breath he bent you over, the side of your face pressing into his mattress while your feet were still planted on the ground. The new position and Shotaro’s strength made you croak out a choked gasp.

Before you broke his heart, he was never like this with you. He never went straight to devouring you like he was now. He never put a strong hand on the back of your head, pressing it further into the mattress as his other hand felt you up. With widened eyes you tried looking behind you, but anytime your head moved out of place Shotaro would push it slightly harder into the mattress.

“Is this okay?” He applied the lightest of pressure behind his hand again and you drew in a breath. Your fingers started helplessly messing with the stitching of his bed. Shotaro’s hand that wasn’t palming on the back of your head grabbed your ass. “Is this okay?” He repeated.

Something about speaking seemed entirely too much. The small sounds you made during sex was always an indication to Shotaro that you liked what he was doing, that you wanted him to continue. Like your labored breath and the way you were gripping his sheets for dear life wasn't a big enough sign, you nodded your head against Shotaro’s palm and preened your ass backwards. But silence wasn’t enough. You felt Shotaro’s front press to your back, his body temperature making you sweat even more. You writhed underneath him, pressing your back further against his front.

“Use your words.” You could hear the sternness in his voice as his hand left your ass. “Communication is important.”

The second part of his sentence was quieter than the first. It also left something in the air between the two of you, something that had to be cleared by you swallowing your nerves and getting the courage to speak.

“Yes,” You breathed out. “It’s okay.”

Your dynamic in bed changed that night. Shotaro was no longer the sweet doting boyfriend but the energetic fuck buddy that was seemingly on a mission to bring you to tears. With a hand on the back of your head and his handprint swelling on your ass he kept you there for what seemed like an eternity. No sweet coos, no kisses on the lips. What was supposed to be an hour stretched to four as Shotaro bit your shoulder and grunted into your ear, asking you over and over again if this was why you came over. By the end of the night you were saying yes and more until your voice was raw.

You convinced yourself that this was another reason why you two had to break up. The way Shotaro fucked you now seemed to be the way he preferred. Throwing you around, pushing your body into positions he wanted. He needed someone to fuck rather than being the gentle and patient one throughout your relationship. He must’ve been holding back for your sake, and judging by the way he wore condoms and was constantly trying new things on you, you assumed other girls around campus were getting the same treatment. You convinced yourself that he wanted to try new things on you so he was ready for the countless girls that were probably waiting for him to be on the market again.

You forced yourself to be indifferent. When he would fuck you on the couch like you were just some hookup instead of carrying you to bed, you convinced yourself that it was just sex, and sex could be had anywhere. Anytime jealousy tried to consume you at the thought of Shotaro being with other girls, you told yourself that he didn’t deserve to be tied down by you. You were happy to be his willing guinea pig, even if the thought of him scrolling on Hinge or Tinder made your heart drop. Letting yourself be used was the least you could do after not even giving him an answer as to why you two had broken up in the first place.

Shotaro became accustomed to your arrangement quickly. After getting the confirmation to his question I’m guessing you want this to be a secret, right? he never asked again. He never asked if you were going on dates (you knew he already knew the answer) or if you were going out for the weekend (once again, you knew he knew the answer). You didn't ask him if he was seeing other people (you didn't want to know the answer) or if he started going out on the weekends again (you hoped the answer was yes, but you hadn't seen him on any of Giselle's Instagram stories and you two seemed to meet up on Friday and Saturday nights more than any other day of the week).

Outside of the space in his apartment you two were still broken up. Giselle was able to successfully drag you to Anton and Sungchan's place for the monthly movie night after telling you how much everyone missed you. On the big gray sofa you found yourself in the middle of tension. Quiet glances towards you and Giselle who was desperately trying to distract you from the quiet glances and the silence that surrounded Shotaro. You knew that your place in the friend group was linked to Shotaro, and your relationship was hailed as the one that was going to make it. There was a tension that came with everyone choosing their side in the "divorce" (Giselle on your side and everyone else on Shotaro's. Once again, you don't fault anyone, and you denied any well wishes or condolences people sent to your inbox).

Just when the nerves were were becoming too much and Giselle left the sofa to go to the bathroom, Shotaro came up to you. He sat next to you on the large sofa, leaving just enough room for one person to fit in between the two of you. He smiled at you and you smiled back. How was he not thinking about the position he had you in hours prior? How was he not showing any signs of mental distress when you felt like you were about to explode?

“How are things?” He asked, just loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. He wasn’t being coy, Shotaro was genuine as he kept space between the two of you. You had to dig your nails into your thigh to stop you from closing the distance. Being here was cruel really. Putting yourself in this position was self-torture. You could feel everyone staring at you, the rest of the noise in the apartment fizzled away as everyone continued staring at you two.

“They’re great. Things are great.”

Shotaro smiled and settled into the couch, then as if on cue everyone else started flocking to the living room. People got comfortable on the floor and the sofa. Shotaro made extra room for Sungchan to fill the space between the two of you, and Giselle sat on the other side of you.

You would’ve loved to watch the movie the same as everyone else. When Shotaro’s friends would laugh along to the dialogue, or whisper before being obnoxiously shushed you were too busy staring at Shotaro. The changing scenes of the movie made him too visible to you, He was lit perfectly, and the darkness in the room provided you with just enough coverage to take your peaks. 

You spent way too long trying to figure him out. You didn’t know what was happening during the movie or what it was about. You were too busy thinking about all the other movie nights when he’d be stuck to your side like glue, a hand permanently touching your thigh or holding your hand. 

Now he wouldn’t even look at you. He stayed trained on the movie, only looking away to scold someone for talking or to reach forward and grab the snacks on the coffee table. He didn’t look over to you when you would laugh, or when Sungchan would look between the two of you from the sides of his eye. Shotaro didn’t give you anything, even when Sungchan inevitably drifted off to sleep right before the final act. 

No one would’ve noticed if he even looked at you from the corner of his eye. If he just turned his head towards you when he was laughing. From your side of the couch it really did seem like nothing was happening between the two of you. You were going over everything since the funeral. When you ghosted him for three days to show back up under false pretenses. Last week when you showed up in the middle of the night unannounced. Meeting up with him after you went to the diner. You had to make sure you weren’t dreaming. You had to make everything was real, if he just looked at you the way he always used to you’d know this was real. 

But Shotaro didn’t look. He only shifted in his spot on the couch when your fingers dipped underneath the collar of your shirt to run over that splotch of skin by your collarbone that Shotaro sucked raw. He only stretched his arm along the top part of the couch over Sungchan’s slouched body to bring his hand behind your head. 

And you said nothing. You only leaned deeper into the couch as slowly as possible so your head could rest in his hand. You only stayed pressed uncomfortably against the couch so Shotaro’s fingers could massage your scalp. 

After the movie you made sure to leave first. You were thinking about the secret display of affection as you narrowly avoided drinks and a talk about the movie by leaving the same time Giselle did. Shotaro had the same excuse, talking about a shift at work that didn’t exist. After he said he was leaving, everyone else followed suit. If anyone thought it was weird that you two were leaving at the same time, they didn’t let it be known. Shotaro’s friends only bid you a goodnight and safe travels as you scurried out of the apartment while he still gathered his things. 

“You left in such a hurry I thought you actually had something going on tomorrow.” Shotaro said when he opened his door to you.

“It wasn’t a complete lie.” You reason.

Shotaro closes and locks his front door behind you and leans against the door. He gestures towards your overnight bag hanging off your shoulder. You shake your head and bring the strap closer to your body.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

You almost tell Shotaro that you have plans to study in the diner tomorrow. Breaking up with him forced you to bear through your weekly study dates alone. Putting your backpack in the place Shotaro always sat barely helped. You had also heard through the Giselle grapevine that he created his own study group and they occupied the biggest table in the library on Saturdays. You don’t understand how he could bare being around so many people while trying to get work done. But he also used to tell you he couldn’t understand why you liked being alone so much. 

“Nothing.” You said, shaking your head.

He didn’t press it any further. He stopped trying to coerce information out of you a long time ago. If Shotaro tried asking a question he let you avoid it the first time you deflected. He would only lift his shoulders and let them fall, mimicking the nonchalant attitude you tried to exude. 

He made it hard for you to feign indifference when he backed away from his door, giving you just enough space to walk through.

Shotaro started making you lead him through his apartment recently. After he’d walk behind you to turn the deadbolt lock he would just stay there. Shotaro would look at you from behind, and you didn’t dare to look over your shoulder at him. Being still behind you forced you to step further and further into his place unless you wanted to stand in the entryway all night. You took off your shoes and took your first step in, and Shotaro mirrored your step.

The shreds of dominance that Shotaro gave you made everything even more confusing. The suspension of control was supposed to be the appeal and the reason you were here. When life was too stressful or demanding you would come here to give the authority of your life in someone else’s hands. You came here to not worry about anything, but it was hard to keep your brain off when you had to make decisions to actively avoid an awkward atmosphere. Shotaro making you walk into his apartment instead of pulling you in forced you to make a decision with each foot you decided to put in front of the other. 

The responsibility made it feel like you were walking on a tightrope. You didn’t know if the next step would be the wrong one, if he would scold you for walking towards the couch instead of his bedroom. But Shotaro’s silence gave you nothing. You had to make sure each step was confident, even if having the ball in your court made your heart drop. Shotaro didn’t stop you when you walked past the couch in his living room, or when you gently twisted the handle to his bedroom. He let you lead him all the way to his bed, where he looked unsuspecting and you felt like you were going to explode.

“Did you like the movie?” You asked.

Shotaro nodded his head. He gently guided your purse off of your shoulder and set it on his computer chair.

“Did you enjoy it?” He asked.

You truthfully couldn’t remember what the movie was about. Each time you tried to recall what was on the screen your mind only went to Shotaro’s hand inconspicuously massaging your scalp. You had your eyes on him more than you did the movie. Still you nodded your head, trying to find a proper segway to the reason you came here tonight. Shotaro again was no help. He stood next to his bed in front of you. His hands didn’t even cross the space to touch you first. You had to be the one to make the first move again, taking a step forward until you could press the palms of your hand to his shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

Lately you’ve been thinking about your mom telling you about that shell you were stuck in when she called you after the wake. You came out of your shell in front of the person who knew you best you felt like you regressed to something even worse than before. When you were asked what’s wrong, you used to answer with contention or shrug it away. Now, when Shotaro asked that question and brought his hands to your arms you felt tears prickle your vision. You couldn’t say it even if you could put it into words. You just lightly pushed at his shoulders, until he got the hint and started lowering his body.

Shotaro let you push him down until he sat on the edge of his bed. With you looking down at the crown of his head, it was manageable. The overbearing heat spreading across your body from embarrassment and an incoming cry turned to confidence, for a second you believed you had an upper hand in the situation of what’s wrong. 

You brought your hand to rest on the top of Shotaro’s head, trying to touch him the same way he did in Anton’s apartment. You weren’t caressing him lovingly, you weren’t offering the affection you swore your arrangement was supposed to be void of now. You were simply testing the waters. Running your hands through his hair was foreplay, nothing more, nothing less. When Shotaro preened into your hand the same way you did on the couch, he was simply returning the favor. 

When you felt him beginning to look up, the exhilaration shifted to nerves and before he could even make eye contact with you, you were already going down to your knees. His hands gripped the edge of the bed a little tighter. You hesitated the same time he did before he spread his legs wider. Regardless you kneeled on the hard cold ground, slotting yourself between his legs. 

Instead of touching his head, your hands rested heavy on his thighs. Shotaro spread himself further to give you more room, and you felt the air in the room shift. You continued rubbing your hands up and down his thighs, looking at the bulge in his pants instead of him. Being in this position was already enough torture. You prayed that Shotaro would give you a break this one time, that he would just tend to your silent cues of what you wanted to do. But his hand went from the edge of the bed to your chin, and you felt his fingers apply the smallest amount of force to tilt your head upwards.

Looking up at him had the opposite effect on you. Everything in you shriveled up when he held such intense eye contact.

“Tell me what you want.” He said.

Don’t read too much into it. Don’t acknowledge the somber look in his eyes or the pang in your chest. Just reach forward until your hands touch the belt of his pants.

“Can I—” He refused to let you off easy. He only raised his eyebrows, forcing the rest of your sentence from your dry throat. “I want to suck your dick.” You asked.

You don’t know how Shotaro said yes after the words tumbled so awkwardly from your lips. When your lack of sex appeal made you cringe, it made Shotaro’s hands undo his belt quickly. The buckle knocked against his hand but Shotaro didn't show any sign of pain. He set the belt next to him and you watched his hand go to the button on his pants next. Your hands waited for him to stop doing the work, and you took the time to compose yourself from going over the way you asked to suck his dick a million times. You tried to be in the moment for him, because you spent so much of your actual relationship doing everything but that. You shuffled on your knees, and moved your hands to work his pants the rest of the way when they got to his mid thigh.

While you pulled his pants down the rest of the way, Shotaro started palming himself over his briefs. The same ring you gifted him—the only one he seemed to wear these days—stared at you as he touched himself. You pressed your nails into his thigh, letting out a shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding. He let out a breath too, and you pulled away from the sight to look at his face. Shotaro was already looking at you—but maybe he never looked away to begin with—as his head lulled to the side.

“You see what you still do to me?” He sighed.

If lust wasn’t actively replacing all of your sane thoughts, you would’ve asked Shotaro what he meant by emphasizing the word. You could only swallow a mouth full of spit and nod your head.

“I see it.” You looked back down to his hand. He stopped palming himself to grip it over the fabric of his underwear to really let you see. His dick twitched in his hand when his other cupped your chin. Your nails scraped Shotaro’s waist when they went underneath the elastic of his briefs, and he raised his hips from the bed to let you pull them down.

His dick sprung straight up before you could even get his underwear down to his ankles, and it continued to twitch as he gently pumped himself. Shotaro forced you to take it slow, you matched his pace of fully undressing him as you felt the nerves over your body. Shotaro only took his hands off himself and your face to take off his shirt. 

When his briefs were beside you, your hand reached forward to grab him. He was hard and already wet in your hands. When the nerves became too much Shotaro leaned back slightly on the bed. You stayed focused on his dick as Shotaro adjusted himself on the edge of his bed. Again you felt his fingers scratch against your scalp, but they didn’t push. Just having him touch you made the courage come back. You inched closer and Shotaro poked out his tongue to wet his lips.

“You got it.” He assured.

You nodded to Shotaro again before bringing him closer to your mouth. You licked the underside of his tip first, a flat tongue against him as he sighed above you again. When you took him all the way to the back of your throat Shotaro’s hand tightened, trying to pull your head back. He always did that, trying to always stop you from gagging or getting ahead of yourself. Feeling Shotaro still handle you like you were made of glass made you take him just as deep again. 

“Fuck.” Shotaro whispered. 

Hearing him curse underneath his breath made you feel like you were doing something right. His grip on you loosened and you took him deep again, and when you gagged he didn’t pull you back. He only spread his legs a little further apart and you scooted closer, ignoring the pain in your knees from the hardwood floor. But Shotaro pulling you off of him paled in comparison to his hands clasping over yours that were pressed to his thighs. 

When his thumbs started gently caressing your hands, you needed more. Maybe if he fucked your mouth it’d get rid of the tender feeling in the air. If he fisted your hair instead of moving to cup your cheeks it would be easier. If he told you that he knows you could suck dick better than that instead of cooing at you and telling you everything felt so good you’d be less distracted. Even when you purposefully lose your rhythm and grazed your teeth along a vein his hands didn’t guide you. He only sucked air through his teeth when you gagged again after taking too much.

“Slow down baby.” Shotaro says gently.

His hands cupped your cheek to prevent you from taking him so deep. You don’t even know if your attempts are even bringing him close to the edge, or if this is more for your benefit that his. There had been too many times you looked up to see Shotaro staring at you, more enveloped in you than what you were doing to him. Back then you were satisfied with his focus on you, but now you just wanted his head to lull to the side in bliss. You wanted to hear him curse because of how well you were taking him, and hear his toes crack and feel his thighs shake.

You can’t take it when you take a brave glance upwards to see him looking down at you. His eyes are locked on the same spot his thumb rubs over on your cheeks, then your earlobe that he lightly pinches with his fingers.

“So pretty.” His hand moves to your hair, massaging your scalp the same way he did during the movie. When Shotaro finally catches your eye before you go back down, his hand on your face becomes a little rougher. He doesn’t stop you from taking him to the back of your throat again. “Have you always been this good at sucking dick?”

You nod when you feel his tip heavy on your tongue. Even though it feels like his words are solely for your benefit they play in the back of your head to stop you from gagging and letting more spit dribble from the corner of your lips. Shotaro hums when he sees your resolve, and you blink your watery eyes. 

“All for me, huh?” 

You nod with his dick in your mouth. When you looked up again Shotaro finally had his head tilted back. He let his leg lose it’s bend and found a new angle to slowly thrust into your mouth. You accommodated to him immediately, ducking your head lower to meet his hips. You felt Shotaro’s hand loosen on your head to wipe the drool seeping from the corner of your mouth. He went back to looking at you now, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Even though your pace remained the same, he sounds significantly more lost than before. You hadn’t even gotten to the part where you were supposed to gently rubbing the sensitive inside of his legs to get him even more bothered. But when you nod your head Shotaro moans again, and before you can take keep going he lifts your head off of him. 

You’re still blinking away the tears in your eyes and breaking the line of spit with your tongue when Shotaro starts pulling you up. You can’t stop yourself from pouting at not finishing the job as you were getting the hang of it and he was so visibly close. His dick was red and angry when he pulled you up, slapping against his stomach before going back to being upright. You can’t even tend to him before he brings you up to eye level. You’re still attempting to blink away tears when he grabs you by your chin and pulls you in.

When Shotaro’s soft bitten lips press to yours, you realize how long it’s been. Even though he put such an emphasis on how important communication was in your new arrangement, there was plenty that was left unsaid. No talking about why you broke up, no talking about why you came back, and no kissing. You two came to the silent agreement that kissing made everything too real, it was too intimate for the arrangement you currently had. Pressing your lips to his was too reminiscent of the kisses you shared before you broke up with him. He pressed into you the same way, and tilted his head before letting his tongue push into your mouth. You reacted the same way too, parting your lips and letting your tongue press against his.

You two were like that for awhile. Like no time had passed or like you two were doing it for the first time again. Shotaro worked extra hard in the moments you came to your senses. Feeling him pull you deeper made you forget everything. This wasn’t a bad idea when he pulled you by your waist onto the bed with him, and it wasn’t a bad idea that he was maneuvering your body to be underneath his. 

When Shotaro pulled away you followed after him. Your lips were still parted, your tongue in the same place he left it when your eyes fluttered open again. He was already looking at you, your glossy spit was still smeared across his lips when he smiled at you. You were too busy trying to hide the look of surprise on your face to do anything else. He rubbed his fingers over your expression before you could change it. You were trapped underneath his body and his soft gaze that was so much harder to bare than the hunger he had in his eyes earlier. He looks away from you when he reaches to his nightstand, pulling a condom from the top drawer.

“I don’t know how you still do this to me.” He said quietly.

There’s that still again. It’s persistent, it’s emphasized each time it leaves his lips. Shotaro kisses your lips again before you can ask him about it. He gently pushes your pants down your legs and you quick them off until you hear them hit the floor. You wrap your legs around his waist quickly, falling into the normal operations of the past two months. But instead of Shotaro bringing his hands to restrict both of your wrists he intertwines his fingers with yours.

Your hand hesitates, fingers sticking out straight between his. Shotaro looks at your rigid hand then to your eyes.

“I just need you.” He’s sincere. His voice almost breaks when he pulses his grip on your hand. The way he looks down at you makes you ignore everything else until you’re nodding your head to his request. Shotaro’s lips curl into a smile and his thumb rubs at your cheek. “In the way we used to do it. Please.” He begs like nothing happened between the two of you. You clasp your hand around his like it's another Friday night of you holding him captive in his room instead of letting him enjoy his youth.

“Okay.” You should feel terrible for doing this.

He doesn’t take off his ring to slip it into your mouth. He kisses you again as his hand drags down your body. Shotaro is the one who guides your legs around his waist as he situates himself between. He’s teasing when he rubs his tip across your clit, it causes both of you to moan into eachothers mouths. 

As Shotaro slides in, he holds your hand tight. You feel it being pressed into the mattress beside your head before he slowly rocks into you. Both of you are careful, knowing you’re liable to say something you definitely shouldn’t. But the way he slides back in feels like the first time, and when he goes to your neck to let out a sigh of relief you feel it.

“It’s like no time has passed.” Shotaro’s voice is barely held together, like he’s one step away from moaning directly in your ear. He pulls away from your neck to look at you. You close your eyes fast, but you’ve been in this position enough to know. The scene is painted perfectly in your mind, and you can feel his breath fan your cheek as he continues to talk. “Like that night never happened.” He says.

This isn’t dirty talk. This isn’t him telling you that you’re tight or wet, or that you sound so pretty. You should tell him that this is going to far, but it feels too good. You’re already feeling that knot in the pit of your stomach. The closeness and feeling Shotaro’s heart beat against your chest is making everything feel too intense. 

You’re not ready to rebuff his advances. There were many things you could’ve said back to him in this moment. He was giving you an opportunity to say something back without having to even look at him. With his face buried in the crook of your neck and his hand holding yours tightly to show support, Shotaro was opening the door wide for you. You were silent, he pulled his hips back and pushed back into you until a strained moan fell from your lips.

“Do you miss me?” He continued.

He was desperate. He ground his hips against yours and you could feel him in your stomach. You arched you back off the bed again, nodding pitifully, holding his hand so tight you thought you’d break it.

“I miss you, Taro.” You say immediately.

“Don’t leave this time.” He said.

Before you could say anything else, Shotaro hooked your leg in his arm to open you up more. You were compensating the deeper spot he was hitting by digging your nails into whatever you could. His face pressed into the side of yours made it impossible to focus on anything else but him. He was looking down at you, biting his lip trying to hold on just long enough to hear your response.

You shouldn’t have opened your eyes. You should’ve kept them screwed shut until you came. You could blame everything on being theatrics of getting you to finish, but when you opened your eyes and saw how sincere Shotaro looked, it was impossible. You were the only thing he was looking at, so locked into your facial expressions like this was about you instead of him. There was no use in hiding your moans, or how close you already were to your orgasm. You just held him tight so he’d do the same to you, pushing your hips upwards to meet his movements.

There’s no words. Just the two of you moaning, making the bed creak, and holding on so tight. When you’re already on the verge Shotaro is right there, hanging his head low to whisper into your ear.

“I’m close.” He says.

“Me too.” You say back.

Like you two were still a couple, you came together. Shotaro always said it was romantic, so you made a point after you broke up to always cum before or after him. But this time it wasn’t on purpose and unavoidable when he sped his hips up. You were moaning into his ear and then crying, pulling him closer as your legs wrapped around his waist. Shotaro was rutting into you then he stopped, hand on your waist holding you in place. He grunted like he was really cumming inside of you, holding you in place while he panted in your ear. This was too real, too reminiscent of how it was before you ended things. He even stayed on top of you for a beat, coming back to Earth as he realized the both of you went too far.

Shotaro rolled off of your sweaty body to lay on the bed next to you. You stared at the ceiling as you caught your breath. This was definitely worse than the night of the funeral. Then you could blame it on the fresh emotion of breaking up with your ex and the overwhelming presence of your mother. But having intimate sex after pretending you two were solely here to fuck was worse. Significantly worse when Shotaro couldn’t even find the words to cut through the silence. The two of you just stared at the ceiling, hands that were just holding eachother looking for something else to hang onto.

You could barely bring yourself to look out the corner of your eye to Shotaro. He was matching your breathing, one hand resting on his chest while the other pushed sweaty bangs from his face.

“My mom asked about you.” You say.

Shotaro turned to face you and you averted your eyes back to the ceiling. He’s silent for a moment, tapping on his chest like he’s trying to find the words.

“Terrible thing to say after we had sex.” Shotaro laughs to the ceiling. “But what’d you tell her?” He asked after a beat of silence.

“That you’re doing well.” You answered.

You told yourself Shotaro’s heavy sigh was because he was still trying to catch his breath. He got up from laying on the bed and sat on the edge, his back facing you. He didn’t say anything else when he ran his hands through his hair again.

“Why would you tell her that?” He asked.

You got up after him, looking at the back of his his head. 

“Because you are doing well.” You answered.

Shotaro turned back to face you. His eyebrows were knit together and he tilted his head to the side. You should be looking at the ceiling light.

“How would you know that?”

You really should be looking at the ceiling light. Because Shotaro keeps his eyes on you and looks upset, you can’t bring yourself to look away. You’re gormless, mouth agape while he fully turns to face you.

“I mean. You haven’t had an actual conversation with me since you broke up with me.” He reaches to the ground and pulls his shirt over his head. You should be getting dressed too. What you came here for is done, but you’re still in the center of the bed. “The only time we actually speak is when we are having sex.” He adds.

Shotaro gets up from the bed and pulls his sweats up his legs. You start looking for your own clothes, they have to be somewhere near your body. You know your bag is still on Shotaro’s computer chair, the S charm he bought you still hanging off the bag.

“I thought you preferred for it to be like this?” You said.

“You think I want the person who broke up my heart to come over just for sex and then just pretend I don’t exist?” 

Shotaro’s bewildered expression makes you turn and face him. There’s no hiding the pain on his face, the confusion in his expressive hands. You have nothing to say.

“Why would I want the girl that broke my heart to come over just to break it again and again and—”

“I didn’t break your heart.” You say quietly.

Shotaro has to force eye contact between the two of you by propping himself up on his elbows. He looks at you confused and angry.

“How can you tell me that? You broke up with me and wouldn’t even tell me why. Then you call me outside your mom’s house after a funeral and it seems like you miss me and you need me but then after it’s like you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” You say quickly.

“Then tell me why we broke up.” The anger fizzled out somewhere. Shotaro is on the bed, looking at you. He’s so desperate, his hand reaches out and grabs yours to hold it tight. He shakes your hand when you don’t answer, and you can see that heartbreak he was talking about earlier. You find your clothes fast, locking onto them before pulling your hand out of his. “Please.” He begs.

“I don’t think we should sleep together anymore.” You say.

Before Shotaro can say a single thing you’re getting dressed. He follows you wordlessly around his place just like the first time. Anything he says falls on deaf ears. The only resistance was when he stood in front of his computer chair, stopping you from grabbing your bag. But after a moment he handed it to you, and you were gone.

November was colder than you thought it would be. You had to bring your jacket close to your body to try and preserve some warmth. Leaving Shotaro’s apartment even after he was calling for you made you forget that nights were cold. You were aimless suddenly when you made it out of his apartment complex. You should’ve shuffled home in the cold to spend another night alone, coming to terms with the fact that your relationship was over. But the other way like a honing beacon the lights inside of the diner were still on. It wasn’t that late after all, and Giselle was working. There was the soup and sandwich special and still the chance to reinvent yourself. So you shuffled across the gravel and then the grass and then the intersection to the warm yellow lights. The cream of mushroom soup and reuben sandwich special etched on the a-frame outside was like a honing beacon. 

You opened the glass door to an empty diner. Giselle sat behind the hostess stand, on her phone until the overhead bell chimed. She grabbed menus and prepared her customer service voice before she looked up and realized it was you. 

“Here kinda late?” Giselle asked.

The door slammed closed because of the wind behind you. Giselle said a fact, you were never here past the midday lunch special. You never came to the diner outside your window, you never really left your dorms this late into the night either. 

“I was wanting some soup.” You say.

Giselle said nothing else as she guided you to your designated booth. The cup of water and her hand lingering on your shoulder was some form of silent support, and she was heading to the kitchen instead of sitting down with you.

You were watching the rim of your glass and people filtering in and out of the diner. There were barely any people, there was never any people. Only stragglers, people studying late tucked into the corners near the outlets. People sitting at the bar drinking coffee even though it’s nighttime. A completely different crowd than what you’re used to. Being surrounded by people means you’re not alone, and that’s a feeling that’s been eating at you more than usual. So you people watch. You look at the workers behind the counter and the glimpses of Giselle’s pink hair you see behind the swinging door. You hear the bell above the door ring while you’re looking at the back of someone, trying to read their dimmed computer screen.

“I figured you’d be here.”

When you turned around Shotaro was standing next to the booth, dressed in a long coat. He was wearing his slides and socks, something thrown together. It was obvious he wasn’t concerned with dressing for the weather or for style as much as he was concerned finding you. He was still wearing his sweats and sleep shirt and out of breath as he motioned to the other side of the booth.

“Can I sit?” He asked.

You nodded and Shotaro slid in. He took off his coat, shivering from the incoming draft as he settled into the seat. You tried to seem as calm as he did, mirroring his look around the cafe.

“This is where Giselle introduced me to you.” He says.

“This is where you came to talk to Giselle about that project and I just happened to be here.”

You’re playing with the straw in your cup when Shotaro shakes his head. He laughs to himself and looks at the table, running his hand over the top before putting it underneath.

“I used to sit in that back corner over there.” Shotaro points to the part of the diner you’ve never looked at. Someone occupies the space there now, sitting in an stool hunched over as they type away on their computer. You preferred booth seats over stools, so you never paid attention to that side. You’re stuck on the person you’re looking at, not even turning when Shotaro starts speaking again. “You used to come in here so often and order the soup and sandwich special.” He says.

You try your hardest to remember the times you’ve looked over your shoulder. Trying to remember the other table Giselle would always sit at before she started sitting at yours. You try to remember her friend she would mention on occasion, each time you’d tell her you didn’t know him.

“I had to beg Giselle to introduce me to you. She said you wouldn’t like me almost a million times.” He laughs and you see his hand go back up to mess with his eyebrow. A nervous tick that Shotaro always forgot was a nervous tick until he noticed your eyes staring at his hands. “I insisted I just needed her to introduce me to you and I could handle it. But I got so nervous she had to do all the talking for me.” He says.

Finally you turn back to Shotaro. You have to blink to see him clearly. 

“Why are you here right now?” You ask. 

Your voice is quiet, and so close to breaking. Shotaro leans closer, experimentally reaching his hand across the table. You shouldn’t grab it, you really shouldn’t grab it. But his palm facing upwards looks so comforting and you haven’t touched him outside the context of the bedroom in so long it feels like the first time. You let his hand completely clasp over yours and you look at him the same way he looks back at you.

“You haven’t talked to me. I just want to know why.” He says, just as quiet.

You don’t know why you’ve kept it a secret for this long. You couldn’t come to terms that you broke up with him for a ridiculous reason, or that you were in the wrong. You would’ve thought that he’d move on by now, and those girls you convinced yourself he was seeing would’ve cleared his mind. But he looked tortured for the first time in his life. His eyes were pleading and he was wearing the clothes he wears to bed in public. Withholding the reason why you two broke up was the thing that kept him here. You were trapping him again, unknowingly leveraging a breakup with sex. 

“I didn’t want to stop you from living your life.” You look down at his hand, still holding yours tight. “You stopped going out because of me and you stopped seeing your friends too.” You said.

When Shotaro scoffs you look up at him. He’s shaking his head like he can’t believe it, holding your hand tighter.

“Who says I stopped going out because of you? Maybe I just got tired of going out.” His other hand is on top of the table, motioning towards something. “I’ve been going out for as long as I can remember.” He says.

“What about your friends?” You ask.

“What about my friends? I see them everyday.” He says.

When you start shaking your head, Shotaro leans close, until the edge of the table stops him.

“I stay in with you because I want to. I still see my friends, and I still live my life.” His other hand wraps around yours. “I want to live a life with you in it. Come out with me, or we can find a new place together if you don’t want to be holed up inside. But I don’t see the harm in doing that on a Friday instead of going to a club I’ve been at a million times.” 

When you try to open your mouth to speak, you can’t get the words out. When tear wells in your eyes then rolls down your cheek you have to look outside, anywhere but at Shotaro. You can’t escape him when you see his reflection in the glass window, or when he looks at you even in the reflection. Your other hand wipes away your tears, laying flat on the table.

“I meant it when I said I miss you. I miss you. So much. I should’ve told you how sorry I was the night of the funeral.” You say to the glass.

You see Shotaro nod in the reflection. 

“I missed you too. I prefer this instead. Communication is important.” He smiles.

You smile too, turning back towards him. You wipe away more of your tears, fighting that lump in the back of your throat. 

“Next time we break up though, please kill me instead. My heart can’t take losing contact with you again.” Shotaro says.

Before you can ask him the question you already know the answer to—the burning question of if you’re back together—Giselle comes around from the back of house with two sandwiches. She talks about how she’s the matchmaker and how sick you two make her until the diner closes.

[leighsartworks216]

You're Not A Burden

Zayne x gn!therapist friend!Reader

Based on my own experience as the therapist friend and my struggles with being genuine about my emotions with people close to me ✌️

Warnings: hurt/comfort, established relationship, childhood friends, crying, nightmares

Word Count: 1,517

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AO3

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Zayne has seen this same pattern ever since you were little; the weight of being the person everyone dumps their problems onto, rants to, leans on no matter how small you may be. It's happened for so long now, he can't remember a time you weren't the one stepping up to bear the brunt of someone else's troubles.

He remembers so vividly one day during recess. Your friend was crying because one of the teachers was being mean and unfair. You held them close, let them cry into your shoulder and blubber about their troubles. And then you went into class with that same teacher, experienced that same cruelty, and held your tongue. It was never about being stronger than anyone else, or that admitting anything was wrong was a weakness; only that admitting anything was wrong would place your troubles onto somebody else.

One time, when his parents were away, he slept over at your house in a pillow fort in the living room. He woke up before you, and you had dry tears on your cheeks.

You take the burdens as easy as you take in a breath of air. Even now, in the middle of your quiet night in, your friend called to rant about their job, their relationships - anything they needed to get off their shoulders. You smiled apologetically at Zayne, kissed his cheek, and disappeared into the bedroom to finish the call without disturbing him further.

He understands, better than most, how difficult it is to watch someone suffer, physically or emotionally. How many times had he gone out of his way to ease the burden of his patients outside of medical care? Trying to get a plushie from the arcade for a girl who was too sick to get it herself. Playing chess with a lonely old man, even when it cut into his lunch breaks. But even he has limits to the burdens he carries.

He listens attentively for your voice through the closed door from his seat on the couch. Quiet hums to show you're listening. Muffled words of advice and support. The call goes on for some time, an hour or more, but not once does he hear you talk about your own struggles. Yet, he knows work has been more demanding lately, you haven't been sleeping or eating well, and you were really looking forward to an uninterrupted night in with him - information gathered through observation, more than not.

Not a single word of complaint.

He can't focus on his book, so he sets it aside in exchange for his laptop. The soft clack of keys fills the silence. It nearly drowns out your voice entirely; the typing pauses every now and then to listen when you speak. His work isn't as efficient, so focused on listening for you, but he manages to get through a few emails and a report or two.

When the door opens, he perks up like a dog whose owner just came home. His fingers are still on the keyboard as he watches you come out from the hallway, smiling apologetically once more as you tuck your phone away with a final glance.

"Sorry about that," you murmur as you sit back in your spot on the couch. He closes his laptop and sets it aside. "Lisa's been having a lot of guy troubles lately and just got back from a bad date."

He hums his acknowledgement and turns his body to face you. Cool hands grab yours, holding them in his lap as his thumbs massage into your palms and work out the tension in your fingers. "You didn't say much."

You laugh lightly, as though it's completely normal. As though it should be completely normal. "I didn't want to bother her with my own problems - she has enough of her own to deal with."

"What problems would those be?" he questions. You tense up, like you want to pull away. You don't, but you stare at the ministrations of his hands with a shake of your head.

"It's nothing."

"But if they're problems," he tilts his head, trying to catch your gaze, "shouldn't I know about them?"

You glance at him with a grin that doesn't quite meet your eyes, and a slight downturn in your brow. "You're not on duty right now, Dr. Zayne."

He lifts one of your hands to kiss your palm. Your fingers brush his cheek. He leans into them without thought. "I didn't think I had to be to listen to my partner's issues," he shoots back, shooting down your deflection. His voice grows softer. "It's unhealthy to keep negative emotions bottled up. I am always here to listen should you need to let them out."

Something stirs in your eyes. Discomfort, at being called out and exposed. Worry, and fear. You look away again. "I don't want to bother you with that stuff."

"Who said you would be bothering me? I want to hear about the issues you have, however minor they may be." He releases one of your hands to cup your cheek. He directs your face back to him, leans forward to rest his forehead against yours, stealing your ability to look away. Your eyes remain lowered, staring at his nose. "You always carry the burdens of others. Allow me to carry your burdens, before you collapse under the weight."

You're silent. He shifts his fingers slightly, resting his middle and ring finger over your pulse point just under your jaw. Your heart is beating wildly. It stutters, jumps, skips. You inhale softly.

"You..." You shake your head slightly, nose brushing his. Your free hand fiddles with your pant leg. "You don't tell me about the issues you have, either."

He smiles slightly, wryly, as though you've just started trying to deal with a shrewd businessman who can't resist haggling.

"I had a nightmare last night," he admits softly. That draws your eyes up to his, finally. "When I woke up, it felt like I was still in the dream."

"What was it about?"

He gives you a pointed look. You frown. Your hand clenches around your pant leg, like admitting anything about yourself is agonizingly painful.

"I... I haven't been eating lunch during my breaks."

It's barely admitting anything, but he hums his approval nonetheless. "I was in the hospital, but the corridors were dark. I heard your voice echoing down the halls..." Your heart skips a beat in time with your concerned look. "Why aren't you eating lunch?"

You squeeze your eyes shut, hiding from the inevitable disapproval on his face. "I haven't been sleeping well, so I've been sleeping in my car during my breaks... I... passed out once, at my desk, because I was so tired... I don't want to concern my coworkers like that again." You wait a few seconds before cracking your eyes open. Sure enough, it's his turn to frown with worry. He knew you were tired lately, but he hadn't heard anything about you passing out at work. He can only be grateful you weren't out on the field at that time. "What happens next?"

"... I can't find you." His frown deepens, eyes flickering down your face, taking you in. "No matter where I look, you're not there. And when I wake up, it takes a moment for my mind to catch up and realize you're right there beside me."

Neither of you speak. Your pulse is calm now. The dark bags under your eyes concerns him more than ever now. The daze in his eyes when you woke up this morning to find him looking over your face flickers back into memory.

Eventually, he breaks the silence. "We'll take our lunch breaks together," he tells you, leaving no room for argument. "The next time you feel faint at work, or too tired to keep going, please tell me."

You nod slowly, silently sealing a promise with him. "The next time you have a nightmare like that, you have to tell me, too."

He nods in return. "I will."

You blink, pausing, waiting for something that doesn't ever come. Waiting for him to decide your burdens are too heavy to bear, or become disillusioned with you now that you're no longer this infallible beacon of strength and dependency. But it never comes. Instead, Zayne strokes your cheek with all the tender patience in the world, rubs his nose purposefully against yours in semblance of a kiss, sits quietly with you with no expectations.

Large drops of water begin to form in your waterline. You swallow, fighting the starting tremors in your lungs. He wastes no time in wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into him, helping you sit in his lap where you hug him around his neck and hide your face in his shoulder.

He kisses the side of your head as your body cries with a practiced silence, rubbing his hand in soothing motions against your back. "You're not a burden for having problems, or for sharing them with others," he whispers. "You don't have to carry everything alone anymore."

---

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[winwintea]

stolen dance

PAIRING ↬ idol!park jisung x fem!reader

TAGS ↬ romance, fluff, they dance a bit, there is totally no angst, i would never lie!

SUMMARY ↬ jisung has been teaching you how to dance lately. but is it really to teach you or is jisung using these dances as a form of escapism to hold onto a deeper secret?

WORD COUNT ↬ 2.8k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ in classic winwintea fashion here is jisung's birthday fic <33 suffer.

PLAYLIST ↬ stolen dance - milky chance; show me the meaning of being lonely - backstreet boys

“Alright, alright, one more time!”

Jisung grins, as he claps his hands and beckons you to step back into the middle of the room.

The living room is bathed in the soft amber glow of a single lamp in the corner, casting warm shadows across the room. The faint hum of a speaker plays an upbeat pop track, its rhythm pulsing like a heartbeat through the air. A pile of mismatched socks and sneakers sits abandoned by the couch, proof of your long evening spent dancing. You groan dramatically, flopping onto the couch instead. “I can’t feel my legs anymore, Jisung. This is basically torture.”

“Nope, no quitting!” he says, darting over and tugging you up by the wrists. His hands are warm, steady, and they pull you effortlessly to your feet. “We’re not done until you can at least try to keep up with me.”

You roll your eyes but smile, letting him guide you into position. “I’m only doing this because you’re making me, you know.”

Jisung smirks. “And because you secretly love it. Admit it, you want to keep up with me on stage one day.”

“Oh, sure,” you laugh, stumbling a little as he begins to guide you through a spin. “Me, a world-class dancer. We’re talking about K-pop standards too. Totally believable.”

“Hey, don’t doubt yourself like that!” Jisung says, catching your hand to stop your wobble. “Besides, I’m a great teacher. You’ll be better than me in no time.”

“Better than you? Let’s not get carried away.”

He steps back, giving you a playful once-over. “Okay, fine, maybe not better. But decent. Maybe passable.”

You swat at his shoulder, which only makes him laugh harder.

The music shifts to a softer beat, and Jisung takes a step closer. “Alright, let’s try that one move again. Step left, then cross. No, your other left—”

You fumble the step, tripping slightly, and Jisung reaches out just in time to steady you. His arm loops around your waist, holding you close for a moment.

“Gotcha,” he says softly, his voice losing its teasing edge for a second.

You look up at him, breathless but grinning. “You know, for someone who claims to be a great teacher, you’re not very patient.”

His lips twitch into a smile. “And for someone who says they hate dancing, you’re not as bad as you think.”

The room feels still for a beat, the music fading into the background. Jisung’s dark eyes linger on yours, something unspoken passing between you. It’s the kind of gaze that makes your heart skip, though you can’t quite place why.

“Anyway!” Jisung suddenly blurts, breaking the moment as he steps back with a sheepish grin. “Let’s try again. I’ll slow it down this time, I promise.”

“Good. My feet are already filing a complaint,” you joke, shaking off the strange flutter in your chest.

He grins, taking your hands in his again, and the music picks up once more. The two of you fall into the rhythm, tripping over each other’s feet and laughing so loudly that it drowns out the sound of the song.

The days start to blur together, each evening spent in the same corner of the living room. The small space becomes your personal dance studio, the furniture pushed against the walls to give you just enough room to practice. Jisung shows up every time with the same excitement, the kind that’s so contagious you can’t help but play along.

“Step, step, and pivot—yes! That’s it!” Jisung exclaims, clapping his hands together as you nail the move for the first time. His grin lights up the room.

You beam, sweat dripping down your face, and collapse onto the floor. “Finally! That only took, what, twenty tries?”

Jisung flops down next to you, still full of energy. “More like thirty, but hey, who’s counting?” He nudges you with his shoulder, handing you a water bottle.

You take a long sip and gasp dramatically. “I didn’t sign up for this boot camp, you know. What happened to ‘just a fun dance session’?”

Jisung leans back on his hands, smirking. “This is fun! Besides, you’re getting so much better. Look at you, two weeks ago, you couldn’t even figure out which foot was your left.”

“Wow, thanks,” you deadpan, though your smile betrays your mock annoyance.

The next night, the routine continues. The two of you move in near-perfect sync as Jisung teaches you a new routine to a faster song. Your steps are cleaner, your turns sharper, and when you finish the sequence without a single mistake, you both cheer so loudly the neighbor downstairs bangs on their ceiling.

“Oops,” you whisper, covering your mouth to stifle your giggles.

Jisung shrugs, unbothered. “Worth it. You nailed that!” He holds up a hand for a high-five, which you give him, laughing at how proud he looks.

But as the days pass, you begin to notice how your progress isn’t the only thing changing.

One evening, as you struggle through a particularly tricky move, Jisung stops mid-step. His gaze drifts off toward the window, his body going still.

“Jisung?” you call, snapping your fingers in front of his face. “Earth to Jisung?”

He blinks, shaking his head quickly. “Sorry, what? Did you say something?”

You frown. “You spaced out. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says with a too-bright smile, waving you off. “Just tired, I guess.” He grabs the remote and cranks up the music. “Come on, let’s run it again.”

You hesitate but decide not to press him.

Later, after another exhausting session, you collapse on the couch, panting. “I’m done. For real this time. My legs are basically jelly.”

Jisung sits beside you, his gaze soft as he watches you. “You’re really doing great, you know.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere,” you joke, but the sincerity in his voice makes your heart skip.

“I mean it,” he says, his tone quieter now. “I just... I like seeing you like this. Happy. Laughing.”

You glance over at him, and for a moment, he looks... sad, though the expression vanishes almost as quickly as it appeared.

“You okay?” you ask cautiously.

“Of course,” he says, forcing a grin. “Why wouldn’t I be? You’re stuck with me, remember?”

“Lucky me,” you tease, but his words stick with you as the night goes on.

The dance sessions grow more frequent, his enthusiasm almost desperate. Every moment feels heavier, though you can’t quite figure out why. You catch him watching you sometimes, his smile softer, as though he’s trying to memorize the way you move, the sound of your laugh.

“What?” you ask one night when his eyes linger too long.

“Nothing,” he says quickly, spinning you around before you can press further. “Just... don’t stop dancing, okay?”

You laugh, brushing it off, but there’s something in his voice that makes you wonder what he’s not telling you.

The music echoes softly through the living room as you and Jisung move together, your steps slightly out of sync but improving with each pass. The rhythm feels effortless now, the usual fumbling replaced by a newfound fluidity. You’re laughing, breathless but exhilarated, when the sharp buzz of Jisung’s phone cuts through the song.

It vibrates insistently on the counter, the screen lighting up in the dim room.

“Hold on,” Jisung mutters, his usual smile faltering as he jogs over to check it. He picks up the phone and stares at the screen, his expression shifting to something unreadable.

You wipe your forehead with the hem of your shirt, catching your breath. “What is it?” you ask, noticing the way he hesitates.

Jisung’s thumb hovers over the screen, and for a moment, he doesn’t answer. Then, in a voice that’s a little too casual, he says, “It’s nothing. Just a friend checking in.”

You tilt your head, unconvinced. “Must be a pretty intense message to make you zone out like that.”

He glances at you quickly, forcing a small smile. “It’s not important. I’ll deal with it later. Come on, let’s not lose our momentum.” He sets the phone back down, face down this time, and crosses the room toward you.

Before you can say anything, he reaches for your hands and pulls you into a hug. It’s sudden, uncharacteristic, and tight. Tighter than his usual playful embraces. You blink, caught off guard.

“Uh, Jisung? You good?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he buries his face against your shoulder, his grip unyielding. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft, almost fragile. “I’m just... really proud of you, you know? You’ve worked so hard.”

The hug lasts longer than it should, and something in his tone feels off. You try to pull back slightly to look at him, but he only holds on tighter.

“Jisung, what’s going on?”

He shakes his head against your shoulder and releases you just as abruptly as he hugged you. “Nothing. Seriously. Don’t worry about it.” His smile is back, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Now, come on. Let’s run through it again. You were so close to getting it perfect!”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you press, still watching him carefully.

“Of course I am,” he says quickly, bouncing on his toes to reset the mood. “Now, less talking, more dancing!”

You hesitate but eventually let it go, letting him take your hand and spin you back into position. Yet, as the music starts up again, you can’t shake the nagging feeling that there’s more to the text than he’s letting on.

On the counter, Jisung’s phone buzzes again, the screen lighting up briefly before going dark. The message still sits there: "You ready to see her?"

The rhythmic click of Jisung’s shoes echoes down the hospital hallway, a stark contrast to the sterile silence that surrounds him. His hands are stuffed into his jacket pockets, clenched tightly as if to keep himself from shaking. The confidence and playfulness that had defined him earlier in the living room are gone, replaced by a hollow, heavy weight in his chest.

He pauses outside the door to a room, staring at the small plaque on the wall with your name printed neatly on it. His heart hammers in his chest as he exhales shakily, steeling himself before finally pushing the door open.

The fluorescent lights overhead hum faintly, casting an unforgiving brightness across the room. Machines beep softly, their rhythm steady and monotonous. And there you are. Completely motionless in the hospital bed, your face pale, your body almost swallowed by the thin blankets. Tubes and wires tether you to the machines keeping you stable, their presence stark and invasive.

Jisung freezes in the doorway, the sight of you knocking the air from his lungs.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice cracking. He steps closer, his movements hesitant and unsteady. The sound of the door clicking shut behind him feels deafening.

He lowers himself into the chair by your bedside, his trembling hands reaching for yours. Your skin is cold, unmoving, and his grip tightens instinctively, as though holding on to you will keep you from slipping further away.

“I’m here,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “I’m here, so… you can wake up now, okay?”

The only response is the steady beep of the heart monitor.

Jisung leans forward, pressing his forehead against the back of your hand. His shoulders begin to shake as tears spill over, falling silently onto the thin hospital sheet.

“You know,” he chokes out, his voice thick with emotion, “I taught you how to dance. I mean, not perfectly, but we were getting there. You were laughing so much, and—” He stops, his breath hitching as the reality of his words catches up to him.

Because it wasn’t real.

The living room, the music, the laughter— it was all in his head. His imagination, his desperate mind, had conjured you up to fill the unbearable silence you’d left behind.

“I just…” His voice cracks again as he squeezes your hand. “I just wanted to see you smile. To hear you laugh. Even if it wasn’t real.”

The weight of the truth crashes down on him, suffocating and relentless. His mind replays every moment of the past few weeks—the way he had clung to the image of you, teaching you to dance, pretending everything was okay.

His tears flow freely now, soaking into the fabric of your blanket as he clutches your hand like a lifeline. The room feels unbearably quiet, the sound of the machines and his muffled cries the only noises breaking the stillness.

He sits there for what feels like hours, talking to you about everything and nothing—how much he misses you, how much he needs you to come back.

“Please,” he whispers, his voice raw, “don’t let this be the end. 

But you don’t move. Not yet. And Jisung can only sit there, crumbling under the weight of his grief, as reality continues to sink its claws into him.

“I thought…” His voice cracks, and he pauses, choking back a sob. He grips your hand tighter, as if that alone could anchor him in this unbearable moment. “I thought I could bring you back. Even if it wasn’t real—” His words catch in his throat, and he pulls his hands to his face, muffling the anguished cry that escapes him.

Tears stream down his face as he looks back at you, his expression one of complete devastation. “It felt real,” he whispers, his voice raw and broken. “You were laughing. You were dancing. It was like… like you were still here with me.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, pressing his forehead against your hand as he begins to unravel completely. “I just wanted one more dance with you,” he says, the words slipping out in a strangled sob.

The silence in the room presses against him, suffocating and unrelenting. His shoulders shake as he cries, the weight of the last few weeks crashing down on him all at once.

“I don’t know what to do without you,” he confesses, his voice thick with grief. “You were the one who kept me grounded. When everything felt too hard, you… you were my anchor. You gave me a reason to keep going.”

He lifts his head slightly, his tear-streaked face staring at your still form. “And now…” His voice falters, his lips trembling as he struggles to find the words. “Now I don’t even know who I am without you.”

His gaze drops to your hand in his, his fingers tracing over yours with a tenderness that breaks his heart all over again. “Dancing with you, even in my head… it kept me going. It made me feel like maybe… maybe you were still with me.”

He swallows hard, the lump in his throat refusing to go away. “But they stole it from us,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “They stole our dance.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and final, as Jisung lets out another ragged sob. His grief pours out of him uncontrollably, raw and unfiltered, as he buries his face in his hands.

The walls of the hospital room seem to close in around him, the sterile brightness only amplifying the darkness he feels inside. He leans forward, pressing his lips gently to the back of your hand, his tears falling onto your skin.

“Please,” he begs, his voice breaking. “Please come back to me. I don’t care how long it takes. Just… come back.”

His words are met with the same unyielding stillness, the heart monitor’s steady rhythm the only response. And so he sits there, broken and lost, holding on to you as tightly as he can, afraid to let go of the only piece of you he has left.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” he whispers, his voice hoarse from crying. He looks down at your hand, his tear-filled eyes blurring the sight of your still fingers. “I want to believe you’ll wake up, but… what if you don’t?”

The question lingers in the air, heavy and suffocating. He lets his head fall forward, his forehead pressing against your hand as his shoulders slump in defeat. “I’m so scared,” he murmurs, barely audible. “Scared that I’ve already lost you.”

For a moment, the only sound is the steady beeping of the heart monitor.

And then it happens.

A faint movement—so subtle he almost misses it.

Your fingers twitch beneath his.

Jisung freezes, his breath catching in his throat. His head snaps up, his wide, tear-streaked eyes darting to your hand. “Y/N?” he whispers, his voice trembling with a mix of hope and disbelief.

He watches, his heart pounding in his chest, as your fingers twitch again—just the slightest motion, but enough to send a jolt through his entire body.

“Y/N!” he says again, louder this time, his grip tightening around your hand. He leans forward, his eyes darting between your hand and your face, searching desperately for any other sign of movement.

The heart monitor continues its steady rhythm, the faint beeping echoing in the room as the scene begins to fade.

“Please,” he whispers one last time, his voice breaking. “Please come back to me.”

TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania @spacejip @peterm4rker @viasdreams @mango-bear

[theemissuniverse]

“DYNAMITE” HENRY HART X ENEMY FEM!READER

SUMMARY : You and Henry haven’t really gotten along since you’ve known each other. Henry’s put up with it for far too long. (Both 18, graduated high school. Relationship is sort of like Freddie and Sam from ICarly.)

CONTENT : suggestive content, slightly explicit

MASTERLIST

No one and I mean not a single soul anticipated you and Henry ever being a couple. From early childhood to the end of middle school, the two of you were kind of like enemies. You would ‘bully’ him and the two of you would argue constantly up until when the two of you graduated high school.

The only reason why the two of you spoke was because Charlotte was your best friend and Henry was her friend too. Henry couldn’t even understand how you could like Jasper more than him.

He was tired. Tired of the teasing, tired of the hitting, tired of you. Especially because he had actually no other reason to dislike you. He honestly thought you were really cool when you weren’t dishing out all your misery onto him.

Tonight? Tonight was the final straw.

You were so mad at him that you almost exposed he was Kid Danger at a party Jasper was throwing at the air n b. Henry immediately took you into a bedroom and closed the door before looking at you, furious.

He was even more mad was because the only reason why you were invited to the party was because he told Jasper to. Jasper was afraid of you and didn’t want you to come but Henry didn’t want you to feel left out.

That’s just the type of person Henry was.

He was never this angry at you. He was used to you but he was boiling with anger.

This was it.

“What the actual fuck is your problem?”

You were caught off guard. Henry wasn’t really the swearing type unless he was joking or being funny. You had to of done it.

Henry didn’t even let you speak. He just kept going. “Teasing me since elementary school? I can handle. Throwing me into lockers in middle school? I can handle. Making me get detention after you blamed me for everything you did through out high school? I can handle. But exposing my secret? My secret to the entire party for me merely existing is something I can not fucking handle anymore.”

You looked at Henry in sort of a guilty and sad way. “It wasn’t for nothing.”

“Oh it wasn’t?” Henry begins to sarcastically say. “Oh, then please tell me what the problem is! Enlighten me! I really wanna know what grinded Ms. Nothing is ever Perfect gears tonight?! Hmm? What was it?”

You looked down in shame, not even wanting to say why. “You were talking to Ashley.”

Henry was even more confused. Why did the thought of talking to Ashley bother you? “You almost exposed me…because I was talking to Ashley?”

“See, when you put it like that, it sounds bad.”

“It is bad!” Henry scoffed at you. It’s like he couldn’t believe what and who he was seeing. “See, you’re ridiculous. I don’t even know why I wanted you here at this party in the first place.”

When Henry had said that, your eyes lit up. “You wanted me here?”

“Yeah because everyone is so afraid of you and thinks you’re a….the very not nice word that starts with a ‘B’ but I’m said ‘no, she’s just going through a lot. She’s not that bad’ but you know what? You are that bad. You’re crazy! No! Insane even. And this whole thing was crazy for me to even-“

Henry was cut off abruptly by the motion of you kissing him, directly on the lips. He stood there in complete shock. The kiss was so short, he didn’t even get to appreciate how soft your lips were. How comforting they felt.

He looked at you confused. He blinked a little, trying to process what just happened. “Um…what was that?”

You bit your lip and looked down to the ground. You couldn’t even look at him. “I know I’ve been extra…I’ve always been extra it’s just…I always thought you were cute and…I kinda liked you. Even though I gave you a wedgie four times…and ate your lunch every day….and made a dog eat your homework and when you told the teacher the excuse, you got detention but…I guess that was my way of expressing that I liked you. And when I saw Ashley flirting with you and you…enjoying it…I freaked out.”

Henry was completely stunned by your confession. Never in a million years would he ever hear from your mouth that you had a crush on him. The entire time.

And then he thought about it. How every Valentine’s Day at school he would get candy grahams but never knew who it was. How quickly you reacted to him even slightly grazing your hand. How sometimes you would just stare at him and he would have to ask you if something was on his face.

And then he thought about himself. How every Valentine’s Day he secretly hoped it was you. How he hoped you didn’t mind him purposely grazing your hand just to feel your contact. How sometimes he wanted to grab you by the hips and give you the most passionate kiss you’ve ever had by the way you looked at him.

“I’m sorry, Henry. I’m sorry I’ve been a bitch. I’m sorry I ruined everything.”

Now here’s something he’d thought he never see. You were crying. Tears. Actual tears not sweat. You had never cried in front of him before. Never.

Henry bit his lip, feeling bad. Was it still justifiable for him to be angry? Yes but he finally understood at least why you’ve been acting like this towards him.

You went to try and walk away but Henry wouldn’t let you. He grabbed your arm and spun you around. This time Henry’s lips landed on yours.

It was your turn to be surprised. You didn’t think after everything the two of you went through that Henry would even remotely feel the same way as you. But he did. Every bit of it.

You pulled Henry down more since he was taller than you. Henry held onto your waist as he deeply kissed you. You were melting right in his arms. Nothing felt better than his kisses.

Henry wasn’t expecting for your hands to go to the belt on his jeans. He felt you unbutton him super quick.

You slowly took the belt off this time, grazing his abdomen with your nails softly. The gesture made Henry let out a low growl that he himself had no idea where it came from.

Henry picked you up by thighs and had you up against the wall. Held you in place while you broke the kiss to kiss and suck on his neck.

“We-shit-need to talk-damn.” The sucking on his neck made him moan relentlessly.

“Talk about what?” You asked while taking off your shirt.

“Talk about-“ Henry cut himself off when he say how good your chest looked in a tightly fitted black bra. You smirked, seeing his reaction. You took his hands and placed them on your ass.

He forced himself out of his own trance. “I don’t just want to have sex with you. I like you.”

“Then have me.”

Henry looked in your eyes and then back at your lips. All before kissing you but this time, he did it lovingly. Like you were made of glass.

You were his now. In a strange way.

[megwritesriddles]

Like You Deserve ༊*·˚

18+ MDNI !!!

Pairing: Sebastian (Stardew Valley) x Reader / You

Summary: Reader is left adrift after a disappointing relationship with Shane comes to an equally disappointing end, but Sebastian wants to show them how they deserved to be treated all this time.

Tags: Unprotected sex, Filming sex, Friends to lovers, Dirty talk, Past Shane/Reader, Reader was cheated on, Shane-bashing!! (sorry), Making ex jealous, SoftDom!Sebastian, Reader is as gender neutral as possible (I'm used to writing fem!reader so sorry if that shows)

Word count: 3.5k

all fandom masterlist | sdv masterlist | read it on ao3

Authors note: Based on a request by the lovely @i-live-in-spite ! Apologies for all the Shane bashing but... I had to for the story!!! Someone pls send help making the cover images for these sdv fics, it's so hard :00!! Hope you like it anyway mwah ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Things had been tense for a while between you and Shane. You could feel it, he’d started acting cold again from time to time, like back when you first met him, not the sweet guy that you had known for a couple of months there when everything seemed fine. You supposed it was just the end of the honeymoon phase, or maybe he was just in some sort of autumn funk, but you assumed it would blow over, he’d had bad days before, but this was just an extended one. Surely. But no. 

He’d been cheating on you. When you’d found the conversations on what he’d always told you was a ‘gridball discussion board’ online, you were floored. He’d begged and pleaded with you to forgive him, that he wouldn’t do it again, that he hadn’t even met them in person, but that made it all the worse. He threw away what he had with you, months of effort to get him to trust you, you ignoring everyone who said you were significantly out of his league, giving him kindness and understanding at every turn, for someone he hadn’t even met in person. He continued to plead with you to stay, that it was a mistake and you were better than anyone else, but you were too proud. You gathered what few things you had in his room and stomped out never to return. It hurt, badly, you had put so much time and effort into your relationship with him, an effort everyone told you that you’d been wasting. It seemed in the end, they’d been right all along.

Shane continued sending letters and trying to corner you in town, telling you how much he regretted what he did and how badly he needed you back. Deep down, you knew he only wanted you to come care for him again. You weren’t sure if he’d ever really loved you or if he’d merely used you. How can you cheat on someone you love? Every time he said he still loved you, the words felt more poisonous. He finally begins to leave you alone again after a while, pouting and glaring at you whenever you are nearby, trying his best to look pitiful so you might come crawling back. You couldn’t believe that this was the man you’d thought you’d loved.

A benefit of the end of your relationship was that you were spending more time with friends again, namely, male friends. Shane had always been deeply jealous and insecure, indirectly making you cut off all your male friends, always paranoid that you might choose them over him. What was the expression? Every accusation is a confession? Sam and Sebastian welcomed you back with open arms, not asking many questions, glad you were joining them for pool again. They could tell you were sad, especially the first few weeks, but opted to try to cheer you up rather than ask you about it. It was clear that it was over between you and Shane, and Sebastian couldn’t be more happy. 

He’d been planning to make a move on you back in spring, but your relationship had started with Shane and he was out in the cold, even as your friend. He understood though, he knew Shane was deeply jealous, so accepted your apologies and promises never to let someone come between the two of you again. He pays you special attention, letting you win at pool to cheer you up and buying you your favourite drinks, anything to wipe that sad look off your face. He’s occasionally intervened and demanded Shane to leave you alone, which only angers the man further, but he does stand down.

It’s one of those nights where he’s paying you special attention, he’d told Shane to ‘fuck off’ from glaring at you across the Saloon a few hours ago and was staying late with you to talk. He’d missed you a lot while you’d been hiding away from the world with Shane, you seemed so much lighter these days, you almost had a glow about you. He had his arm slung around your shoulder, a risky move which had paid off, listening to you talk on a tucked away couch, just the two of you. You were a little tipsy, not enough to be worrisome, but enough to have you rambling. You’d never really talked about what happened with Shane, but everyone knew it must have been something bad, based on how the two of you were acting. The leading theory in town was an argument about his drinking that couldn’t be solved, perhaps he had broken something while drunk. When you reveal to him that he’d been cheating, Sebastian’s jaw hangs open for a moment. Your cheeks flush and glance around nervously in his silence.

“He what?” Sebastian hisses. 

“They hadn’t even met in person it was just… chats–” you ramble, trying to play it down so Sebastian would stop looking at you like that.

“Still! I can’t believe his audacity! To cheat on you… he was insanely lucky you ever even gave him a second glance,” Sebastian scoffs. He’d always felt this way, but knowing what Shane had willingly thrown away, he feels wildly incensed, anger growing inside him. “No one deserves that but especially not you! You’re stunning and he’s… well, him,” he rolls his eyes, if he was a more violent man, he would go knock some sense into Shane with his fists, but he knew you would never approve of that, you were really too sweet for your own good. You blush and look down, shrugging.

“I don’t know about stunning…”

“You are,” he asserts, glancing over your lightly flushed cheeks and shy expression. “He’s a complete idiot for giving you up, seriously,”

“Well, at least he’s disappointing them in bed now, not me,” you giggle, quickly covering your mouth when you realise what you’ve said aloud, eyes widening. The wine you’d had really loosening your lips, letting things out you’d kept to yourself for too long, itching to gossip. Sebastian’s eyes also widen before letting out a bark of laughter, a smirk settling on his face.

“Damn, cold,” he teases, gently poking your arm to get you to lower your hand. He cups your chin between his fingers and tips your head up to look at him, relishing in the deepening of your blush. “He couldn’t please you?” You bite your lip and shyly shake your head.

“He didn’t try that hard… to be fair,” you try to defend, but you hear yourself and know it sounds weak, it’s hardly a defence, just a further indictment of him. Sebastian’s fingers tighten on your chin, anger coursing through him again. You had been an angel sent from heaven into his life and he hadn’t even tried to please you.

“He’s a piece of shit, to be fair, a total scumbag, you deserve everything,” Sebastian declares, his jaw tight. “He should have been giving you like… 5 orgasms a night, kissing the ground you walked on,” he huffs. You giggle at his hyperbole, though your blush deepens, not used to openly discussing stuff like this, especially not with Sebastian’s thumb rubbing your jaw so gently, his face hovering close to yours. You taste the words before he says them. “That’s what I would do if I had you… you would always be satisfied, always,” he purrs, another risky move but he’s willing to make it. You take a shaky breath and slip your eyes closed, your mind filled suddenly with images of Sebastian pleasing you. “I would never be stupid enough to let you go or hurt you, I’d treat you like you deserve,”

Your lips crash to his without thinking, and his hands instantly fall to your waist, tugging you closer. He hums in excitement, he’d been waiting for this for so long and here it was. You taste delicious, with a hint of the wine from earlier that evening and a sweetness that was entirely your own. He tilts his head to press closer to you, tugging you closer until your legs settle across his lap, one hand caressing your hip, the other moving up to your hair. Your arms snake around his neck, pulling the two of you chest to chest in desperation. You had never felt this way with Shane, pure electricity coursing through your veins, your tongues meeting in a sensual dance, swirling and caressing. 

“Let me please you,” he murmurs between kisses, hand sneaking onto your back beneath your shirt. “Let me show you what it can be like, let me give you what you deserve,” with a breathless nod, he’s lifting you to your feet and the two of you are leaving the Saloon hand in hand.

The way back to your farm is full of your tipsy giggling, his hands softly brushing up and down your body and frequent stops to kiss. You can’t seem to keep your hands off of each other as you press each other up against trees and fences to have another taste. When you finally arrive at your farm, you stumble through the door, lips still connected, hands fisted in the fabric of his hoodie. Every cell in your body is on fire, you haven’t felt this amount of lust in a while, and all the sinful promises Sebastian had whispered against your mouth on your way here only made the anticipation grow. You pull him into the bedroom, stealing kisses as you go, which he returns with a smile. The eagerness surprises him in the best way, you seem totally obsessed with the idea of finding out what he can do for you, and he’s more than happy to show you. He pushes you down onto the bed, caging you in between his arms, hovering above you, moving his kisses down your jaw. The gasp that leaves your lips and that look in your eyes has his cock straining against his jeans. 

“So sexy, babe,” he growls, nipping your collarbone and placing a questioning hand on your stomach, just beneath your shirt. “Can I?” you nod, writhing beneath him. Your shirt is quickly shed and Sebastian looks over your chest with a clear look of arousal. “You’re so perfect, I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he kisses and nips all over your chest, playfully making his way down your stomach to hear your breath hitch. He won’t use his mouth now, he feels too desperate to be inside of you, but he’s sure he’ll be using his mouth a lot in the future if he has his way, which it seems like he will. You’re completely willing beneath him, so aroused, pupils blown wide, body flushed and chest heaving lightly. “Want me?” he asks teasingly, toying with the button of your jeans. You nod helplessly. “Where?” he prompts, feeling a little drunk on the power he has over you right now. You huff softly.

“Inside… please, Sebastian, don’t tease right now,” you pout and he chuckles, finding your expression delicious, he leans up and pecks your pouty lips with a smile. 

“Sorry babe, I want to be inside you too,” he cups your cheek, kissing you deeper for a moment, which you enthusiastically reciprocate. “I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he promises deeply, popping open your jeans as he nips your bottom lip, helping you wiggle out of them, discarding them by your bed. There’s a quiet metallic thud and you both disconnect to look down at the source of the noise. “Oh shit, sorry,” he mumbles, realising your phone had been in your pocket, hurriedly reaching down to lift it and place it on the bedside table before returning to your lips. 

“Guess you were too eager,” you tease playfully and he agrees with a hum, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, his fingers tracing the edges of your underwear. He is happy to pull back and lift his arms when you start to tug at his hoodie and then the t-shirt underneath, smug when you look over his torso admiringly, eyes dark with lust.

“Like what you see?” he teases, unbuttoning his jeans, imagining himself soon between your legs.

“Yeah,” you sigh softly. “I do…” Not bothered to feel insecure, Sebastian strips his boxers with his jeans, eyes lighting up when your mouth falls open at the sight of him. “Wow…” He knows he’s well-endowed, but is flattered by your reaction, being even more sure now that he can show you a very good time. You lift your hips as he tugs down your underwear, eyes glued on his rock-hard twitching length. You’re incredibly flattered by how aroused he seems as he looks you over.

“So stunning, can’t wait to bury my cock in you,” he purrs, massaging your inner thighs. From the corner of his eye, he notices your phone lighting up but tries his best to ignore it. There were more important things on his mind. He smirks as your body reacts to his words. 

“Please,” you breathe. “I need it,” 

He doesn’t need asking twice, settling between your legs, carefully positioning himself and making sure you’re ready for him, but as you whine pleadingly, it’s harder to be cautious. Slowly, he begins to press into you, relishing the warmth of you around his cock, squeezing softly. You both throw your heads back in sync, letting out pleased sounds. You feel like the perfect fit, taking him in so perfectly like you were made for him. He glances down to make sure you’re okay, your chest heaving and little whimpers leaving your throat. 

“Are you okay babe?” he asks breathlessly, eyes darting to your phone for a moment as it lights up again. You nod and mewl, wrapping your legs around his hips to get him to move. He chokes out a groan as he finally bottoms out, twitching within you. He knew you’d be amazing, but he couldn’t anticipate this. How did you feel so good? It seemed almost inconceivable. How could anyone give this up? He braces himself, his hands on either side of your head, pecking your lips before beginning to slowly rock in and out of you. Your hands fly up to clutch his back, and he groans at the feeling, drinking in the moans you let out against his lips. “Does that feel good? Yeah?” he husks, speeding up a little as your reactions egg him on. 

“Y-yeah… oh!” you whimper, your mouth falling open as he speeds up, letting out a constant string of moans. He can hear in your voice just how good you feel and the thought arouses him impossibly more, you’re so enchanting, you drive him crazy. He raises himself a little more so he can look down at you as he thrusts in and out, watching your eyes roll back in pleasure. He grips your hips, lifting you so he can sit up and continue thrusting. The new angle makes you gasp, his name falling as a whine from your lips, which he affectionately returns, smoothing his hands over your body as he ravishes you. He can see your phone continuously lighting up on the nightstand and it’s driving him crazy. He halts for just a moment, met by a whimper of protest from you, to reach over, intending merely to turn over the phone but then noticing who is messaging you.

About ten messages from ‘Shane DON’T ANSWER’ flood onto your screen, including a missed call. Sebastian growls in anger. He remembers you mentioning how he wouldn’t leave you alone no matter how many times you’d asked and how you were considering just blocking his number at this point. You plead softly with Sebastian to continue, craning your head from your lying position to try and understand why he’d stopped moving. Several of the messages mention Sebastian himself, saying how someone had seen the two of you leaving the Saloon together, followed by several insecure accusations. Sebastian can’t help but scoff a laugh at his insolence, picking up your phone and opening it. You raise your brows under him.

“What are you doing?” you ask quietly, watching as he taps through your phone, shifting your hips to try and get that delicious friction back. Sebastian bites his lip and his eyelids flutter, you feel like heaven, and he hates himself for stopping, for depriving the both of you, but he has an idea. He opens your messages, seeing days of Shane talking to himself in your messages, switching between begging and anger. That man was so pathetic, he couldn’t understand what you’d ever seen in him.

“Don’t worry, just lie there for me, babe,” he smirks, opening the camera attached to the messaging app and scrolling to the video function. You’re shifting your hips in search of pleasure again, and it looks so sexy through the camera, watching himself disappear inside of you. He groans loudly, clicking the record button on the screen. The flash comes on in the dim light, alerting you to what’s going on, and your brows fly up. He shushes you by placing a finger to his lips, beginning to thrust into you once more. All your protests die on impact, melting into a choked moan. Sebastian watches, enraptured as he slides in and out of you through the camera, grunting and speeding up, struggling to keep the camera steady when all he wants to do is completely lose himself in you once more. He can hear the steady slap of skin on skin and a mixture of both of your moans. The thought of sending this to Shane, claiming you away from him finally, makes him feel feral, and he thrusts into you even faster and harder than before. He tilts the camera up to show your face, and though obscured by your arm thrown over your eyes, it’s clear who it is. You whine over and over, your lips parted in pleasure. “Yeah? Fuck… tell me how good it feels,” he grunts.

“So good Seb…” you whine lewdly, stretching out the words, shaky with every thrust he gives you. The fact you’ve said his name sends a powerful jolt through his body and he pounds into you harder, making you shout out in ecstasy. He was showing you pleasure you’d never felt before, you’d been a little sceptical at the start of the evening, but now you knew you were never going back, he was hitting some spot within you that had you seeing stars, a spot you hadn’t even known you had, touching it again and again, leaving you in heaven. The fact he was filming you… excited you more than it should have, you couldn’t help imagining what it might look like. 

“That’s it, babe, cum for me, yeah… show how much you love it, fuck… you look so sexy,” he husks, pounding into you relentlessly, no longer focused on the camera, staring down at you hungrily. It’ll be clear what’s happening anyway. His free hand is all over you, squeezing and caressing as he continues thrusting with all his might, feeling you tightening around him, your moans increasing in volume. “Yes… that’s it,”

“Seb!” you wail, your legs shaking violently around his hips, pleasure exploding behind your eyes, more intense than you had felt, possibly ever. The knowledge you’re being filmed only heightens the experience tenfold, tingles running up and down your body, a warm syrupy feeling settling in your lower stomach. He whispers soothing praises as you spasm around his cock, making him choke on his words occasionally, still softly thrusting into you. You gasp for breath, still moaning with each aftershock that courses through you. In this calmer moment, Sebastian fumbles with your phone, shakily typing out a caption for the vulgar clip he just captured. 

“Don’t text again, we’re busy,” he types, though a little inaccurately in his aroused haze. The message is still clear. He presses send, makes sure it’s gone to Shane and then tosses your phone aside, noticing it already beginning to blow up with messages from him. Your cheeks are burning as you look up at the cocky smile on Sebastian’s face.

“I can’t believe I just let you do that,” you giggle breathlessly as he strokes your cheek with his thumb, still giving you a moment to compose yourself, though remaining inside of you. “I’ll probably regret it in the morning,”

“Nah, babe, you looked so hot, it’s his fault for giving you up,” Sebastian assures, leaning down to peck your lips. You smile and kiss back.

“I felt hot, but still… it’s not exactly something I’m used to,”

“Me neither, but it was sexy as hell, maybe we should do it more often,” he smiles, tucking a few kisses under your jaw. 

“Oh? You think we’ll do this again?” you tease. He grins against your skin, moving back up to hover over you, beginning to ever-so-slowly thrust into you once more, making you gasp. He growls playfully. 

“Oh yes… you deserve so much more pleasure, babe, and I intend to give it to you,”

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

hey you! want to get tagged in my work when it comes out? click here! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

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[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

He Canceled Hot Girl Summer 🔥

18+mdni

Series Master List

Brunch with the ladies…|

“She was talking about, my man my man my man, whole time mind you, her man had downloaded Grindr in order to see hole and I only found out because he matched with Autumn and asked if he was down to fuck. Whole time even after I told her and sent the screen shots that Autumn sent me when he figured out who the dude was, she had the nerve to say and I quote ‘Aaliyah don't be jealous bitch because you can't keep a man even as a whore’, mind you she only made her goal for that week because I invited her to do a double with me.’” Aaliyah is busy telling a story about her acquaintance that she sometimes works doubles with.

The table erupts in laughter, and for once in five months, you feel alive. It's been forever since you left the house without worrying about Omari. Johnny had insisted that you go and have a girl's day with your friends, and he was gonna have a guy's day with his mini-me. Sure, you were apprehensive about the whole ordeal, leaving Omari with his father while you went to therapy, or got your hair and nails done was one thing. Each little outing would be done and completed within three hours. Brunch with the girls, though? That was damn near an all-day thing. You four would meet at some ritzy ditzy outdoor place and order bottomless drinks and food. Trade dating stories about your sex lives, talk about family drama as if you four didn't all grow up within walking distance of each other, complain about missed connections and give opinions on flavors of the week. Then after the bill was fought over because one of you always wanted to treat the other three, you'd all stumble out, find some boutique or mall and make questionable clothing purchases, only to find yourselves back in an open patio restaurant for an early dinner, trying to chase away a brunch time hangover.

You hadn't done this in months. It was like breaking through an endless wave of depression and depersonalization. You didn't feel the immediate tug of motherhood. Instead, you felt like…well you again. Loud, fun, flirty (the cute guy at the bar had sent you and the girls drinks all because you smiled so pretty at him), and most of all like a whole person and not some milk dispenser.

Your name cut through the laughter and huffs as the girls all calmed down. Rosette was beaming at you from behind her glass. She waits until the table is quiet before she begins, “So tell us all about John and how he's been these past few weeks?”

You shift in your seat as everyone stares at you, “what is there to tell?” You sip your mimosa and sigh, it's been so long since you've drank but Johnny had insisted you do that. He'd taken the liberty to research the best formula for Omari and said in that sweet Scottish accent, that his mini-me would be fine for a day without milk from the source.

“Well one, you aren't sleeping with him, right?” Aaliyah snarks. She raises an eyebrow, “Just wanting to make sure.”

“No…we aren't doing that. Truth be told, I like having John around. My only issue is that he's an NDA soldier, and suddenly, all the cameras and the privacy film on the windows make sense.” You sigh. Just as expected, the girls all stare in shock. “He wants us to move somewhere else, safe and secure. It was an argument, really.”

“Well you aren't married to him, so you don't need to.” Jay sips her drink with a frown, “He isn't trying to make you stay out in the middle of nowhere, right?”

“Some little village out in the highlands, an hour or so from his own family.” You snort, your eyes don't miss how everyone cringes. You all have the same experience, growing up in some middle of nowhere commune, land bought by four well decorated and wanted black-ops soldiers that wanted to hide their families. Homeschooling done by your mothers, every outsider vetted carefully, the small town didn't really trust you all but accepted your strange clan.

It's Rosette that places a hand on top of yours, “It'll be fine, I'm sure if you explain your reservations, he'll understand.”

“Other than that, he and I have been fine.” You quickly change the subject, “He has started taking me and Omari out to do what he explains is his idea of family activities. You know the zoo, aquarium, and picnics at the park.” You strategically leave out that for the past two weeks, he's been staying at your place. He takes night duty with Omari and only wakes you to breastfeed so you don't wake up with sore and swollen breasts.

You leave out that Johnny speaks with your mom as much as his own. While he doesn't particularly enjoy speaking with your stern father, he does, and he's respectful. Sure, the girls know that he pays for your hair and nails, but they don't ever need to know that he helps regulate you after a hard therapy session. Holding you close in a tight hug, whispering that he's got you and that you aren't failing your son and that you are indeed a good mother and an even better woman. Calming your fears that your family will only see you as irresponsible for making Omari without being married.

Your three best friends don't need to know any of the emotional episodes you have when your hormones become too much, and Omari demands all of you. When you feel wrung out with nothing to give him and it's Johnny who has been picking up those pieces. They don't need to know that he has planted himself into your life as much as his son's and that you've let him practically move into your apartment.

“Adorable that he's doing daddy duties.” Rosette smiles.

‘Yeah’ you think. ‘Adorable’. You clear your throat and grin at Rosette and look to Aaliyah, "How did that double date go the other week with Kyle and Simon?”

Rosette sighed dreamily, “Other than Aaliyah trying to fight the chef and getting the four of us banned from that restaurant. I think Kyle might be the one.”

Jay snorted, “How did that happen?” She places her arm around Rosette and glances at her “And you sure you want the other military guy to be the one?”

Aaliyah only shrugged and didn't even look like she was ashamed. That was your best friend though, “Look, he asked for medium well steak, and they brought that man well done steak, and he was just gonna suffer through it silently. I wasn't about to let anyone eat that dry ass steak and then pay for it? Fuck out of here!”

Rosette still had heart in her eyes, twirling her hair around her finger. She had recently dyed the end of her locks a pretty shade of deep red. “I can overlook him being in the military. He likes me for me, warts and all.”

You smiled at her, “Get to know him a bit longer, we gotta make sure it isn't dick-matism”

Chapter 6: The Soap Chapter 🧼

Johnny had settled into his new life as a dad. Sure, when he started his leave, he didn't expect to be a dad. When he looked at Omari, stared into his pretty blue eyes, brushed his fingers through his curly hair, and held his tiny little hand; well, Johnny knew he had to be better in all aspects of his life. The mother of his son had done such a remarkable job without him for a year and four months. He wants, no, needs to take care of them both and give them a good life.

He still felt a pang of sadness and anger at himself for sneaking out and not staying to at least leave you his number or Instagram. Often, his mind would wander back to the night you had both made Omari. He thinks about the wild night you shared. The way your eyes stared at him as if you didn't want to be anywhere else but with him, drinking and bar hopping, playing pool, and taking shots off of each other. He replays in his mind the kiss that broke the damn. That moment was frozen in his psyche, engraved in his mind as a core memory. He was tipsy then, too smitten by you to understand that he had found what he teased and secretly envied Price for having.

Having Omari Malachi- God willing, you let him change both of your last names - MacTavish - just made him want the whole thing all at once. Him always being in the line of danger made him want to speed run everything and break his Captain’s record of getting married in four months. If you had him, he'd get married at the court house and deal with his mother's and sister's ire later.

He's on base with Omari, his little bairn strapped to his chest. The past two weeks he's been staying off base with you and his wee one, crashing on the couch and taking night shifts and then more often just taking the brunt of the work with Omari, insisting that you rest. Every cry his son let out was met with him picking him up and setting him right, and if he could swing it, done without having to wake his Chuilein.

Most of the other soldiers on base and in the hallways stop and give him a double take. There's a sense of pride that swells in his chest as he catches the way people stare at his son. People stare with shock because there's no way Soap is carrying a babe on his chest! He gets to Price's office and hears the gruff sound of Simon talking.

“I've never actually been told before that my mask wearing was a sign of anxiety and complex ptsd…the woman is a pain in my ass.” He is complaining, which is a rare thing that he seldom does.

Instantly Johnny knows who he is talking about. His friend is referring to the date he was swindled to go on by Kyle the other week. Shaking his head, he knocks on the door and when he enters, it's to his Captain and Lieutenant looking over papers. “From what mah lassie says,” Johnny grins widely, “Aaliyah actually likes ye or she would've charged ye for the hours after the agreed upon date ended.”

Price chuckles at the glare that Simon sends him before looking at the squirming baby strapped to his chest. His mustache twitches and lips pull into a smile, “So that's him, huh?”

“Yeah,” He pulls Omari out of his wrap and promptly drops him into Simon's lap, “Meet mah boy Omari M MacTavish.”

Upon getting put in Simon's lap, Omari immediately goes for his mask. His chubby little fingers are trying and failing to grip onto the fabric. He squeals and settles on patting his face and trying to eat the mask instead by placing his mouth on Simon's cheek.

“How did she come up with the name Omari?” Simon asks. He's careful with the boy, squishing his cheeks. “Don't try to eat my mask…it's my second skin.” To which Omari only doubles down and babbles away.

He plops down in the open seat next to Simon with a shrug, “She said she picked it ‘cause he looked like an Omari an’ Malachi got pushed inta being his middle name.” He smiles at his son, “an’ he looks like an Omari.” His eyes trail over to the papers on the desk, “aren't we on leave? We have like three more weeks left?”

Price sighs and shakes his head, “Laswell needs us for an op, so we may need to cut it short.” He at least looks apologetic, “estimate on moving out is next week.”

Johnny feels his blood run cold because it's currently Monday, and he's got a week or less to make sure his girl and son will be okay. He thinks back to the argument that he and you had three days ago. He had finally sat you down and told you what he did, how his missions were dangerous, and that he's made enemies in high places. That part, he was surprised that you took well, you didn't flinch and really only sighed with resignation. It was when he asked you to move out to be near his family, to let him set you and Omari up in a small village, that you snapped and told him no. The conversation devolved into him being a bit more stern than he wanted and you raising your voice. He tried to explain that your second floor flat wasn't safe, that he would feel better moving you somewhere more secure, and it would keep his nerves from being shot when he was gone.

“John, I'm not letting you just show up and tell me that I need to let your choice in a high-risk career dictate my life.” You had said when the argument calmed down. You had been telling him repeatedly that you weren't leaving your very public job, you weren't going to be in some little village, and you definitely were not just going to do whatever he said.

“Steamin’ Jesus, that's gonna be a fun one.” He runs his fingers through his hair and notes that he needs to give himself a cut. “Chuilein may actually murder me.” He gives his captain a pleading look.

Simon grunts, “You said that she was okay with your work. So I don't think she's going to kill you.”

“She's gonna kill me, but not fo’ the reason ye think.” He reaches over and pulls Omari into his arms, “She's got some important event next week with her boss an’ some client an’ I already agreed that I'd keep Mini for the week while she travels.”

Price raises both brows in shock, “What exactly does she work as?”

“Some type of assistant at a talent agency.” He says, “Captain, how do you tell the Missus when you have ta ship out?”

Price laughs a bit before leaning back in his chair, “I usually take my wife out to do something fun or a nice night in before we ship out. Make some good memories in case things happen.”

It's a sobering thought that puts his new life perspective. He looks down at Omari and frowns. He doesn't plan on dying and leaving his family anytime soon. “Thanks for the advice, Captain.”

Seemingly not pleased with his dad and the change of mood, Omari starts babbling and squealing. Patting his face and giving him a gummy smile. Johnny sighs with a smile, “ So like…I also kinda wan’ tae ken what do I have tae do ta make sure Mini and his mam will be safe and taken care of if somethin’ happens ta me?”

Price and Simon both look at each other. They know that Johnny had gone through a quick and rushed lifestyle change. He declines going to the pub more often, opting to be with his son and his girl (as he puts it). He most recently started the habit of staying off base and where he normally would have had a short fling by now, which obviously didn't happen. He by no means is awkward, normally just saying whatever he wants and laughing off any and everything. Seeing him actually act like a dad was the same as seeing him rapidly mature, almost overnight.

Simon shrugged his shoulders, “You should elope with her. That way, you get on base housing, she doesn't have to move far and she is in a secure area while you're gone, and she's entitled to all the support a spouse married to a serviceman gets.”

“Now Simon, why would you-” John begins.

“That's a solid idea. I'll phrase it just like that, and she'll have no choice but to go along with it.” Johnny is smiling. Sure, it won't be traditional. It may even come off as ‘odd’ but he would get to be married to his Chuilein. Both her and his baby would be safe, and should anything happen, he knows his widow will be okay.

John only sighs. He knows that's going to create a row in the young man's life. While he hasn't met the woman that has his sergeant's heart, he does hear about the off the wall way she acts. So he leaves Johnny to the very bad idea and the lesson he's about to learn about trying to talk a woman into marriage.

Johnny spends the rest of the day hanging out in Price's office until he leaves with Simon to go figure out lunch. Omari hasn't napped yet, and he's pleased because that means his Mini-me will sleep through most of the night. Conversation, as always between him and his lieutenant, flows naturally up until Simon says something that's somewhat out of character for him.

They ended up off base in some shitty little restaurant that actually serves decent food. Omari has taken a full liking to playing with the salt and pepper shakers, fighting tooth and nail when his dad tries to wrestle them away.

“Johnny?” Simon says after taking a long sip of his beer.

“Yeah?” He doesn't really take his eyes off his son for too long.

“Don't go saying this to anyone…but I actually enjoyed the date that Kyle roped me into.” Simon mumbles.

This takes him off guard, “wait, really? I thought ye hated it.”

“Yes I hated the fancy place Kyle picked out trying to impress his bird…hated the food, and almost hated the alcohol.” He takes a deep sigh and drinks the rest of his beer. Then hurriedly, his mask is pulled back down onto his face. “It was after Kyle and Rosette left…”

Johnny nodded his head following along, “So ye didn' like the date but liked what the idea of the date?” He was a bit confused.

Simon huffs, and Johnny can tell that he's uncomfortable with whatever emotion he is feeling. His friend is tapping the table with his index finger and is staring at him like he's supposed to just know what's ailing him. It takes a moment, but he thinks over the conversation, and he thinks about what he's heard about that double date from his girl. Then it hits him.

“Simon…mate…did you sleep with her on the first night?” He asks and leans in close. He covers Omari's ears to shield him from his words.

Simon only grunts, “I did…after she told me that I should either see a therapist or get a vice stronger than cigarettes and liquor, because I fuck like I have trauma issues…that's where the comment about the mask came from.” He looks away from Johnny and doesn't say much more.

“Jesus…she's a piece of work, want me to say somethin’” Johnny feels incredulous.

Simon still won't look back at him, “Hm…I want you to convince your bird to convince Aaliyah to go on a second date with me.”

Johnny only blinks, completely and utterly thrown from a loop…because what? He shakes his head and smiles, “I'll see what I can do.”

a.n: so yeah this was the Johnny Chapter! Next Chapter we will be doing something different. Also I know my other stories haven't been updated (sweats) but I'm in a writer's block and for some reason I'm only able to write comedy or romance right now. Angst just isn't happening the way I need it too and I'm sorry yall 😔.

Tag list: @evergreenlake @royalty-cashinout @leahnicole1219 @gxuxhdjdu @daft-queen @vmaxis @curiouslittleprincess @lucienofthelakes @flairenragebelmont @gazsluckyhat

[deezee112]

The worst ending 18 : Eternal Protection

The worst ending 17 | The worst ending 19

Yandere!platonic!Ortho Shroud x GN!Reader

A/N : I should watch sci-fi movies. I should really stop watching them. Not because the plot is bad, but because I've been watching sci-fi movies for 5 days straight, going to bed at 1am every day.

And I'm really stressed about work, both studying and working. I don't want to work, but if I don't, I won't have any money. Maybe I should stop thinking too much.

Warning : Yandere platonic Themes , Psychological Horror , Possessiveness, Isolation , Non-Consensual Transformation , Character Death.

Tags :

@iris-arcadia @yuu-twisted

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

The boy in front of you wasn’t human. His body was made of sleek metal and glowing energy, floating just slightly above the ground. His Gold eyes blinked slowly, scanning you with an unreadable expression. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move unless you moved first. He just watched, waiting.

You crouched down, meeting his gaze. " You don’t have a name yet, do you? "

He tilted his head, the faint whirring of gears filling the silence.

A name. Something simple, something warm.

" Ortho. " you murmured. " That’s what I’ll call you. "

The boy blinked. Slowly, his lips curled into a small, mechanical smile.

And just like that, he had a name.

At first, Ortho was silent, responding only with nods or slight tilts of his head. You had to teach him everything—how to speak, how to understand emotions, how to mimic the natural flow of human interaction.

" Ortho, this is a spoon. " you said one evening, handing it to him.

He stared at it, tilting his head. " Spoon. " he repeated in a metallic voice.

" Right! And you use it like this. " You demonstrated, scooping up some soup.

Ortho hesitated before mimicking your actions perfectly. " I see " he said, his voice a little smoother now.

" Good job! " You ruffled his hair, only to feel the hum of energy beneath your fingers. He blinked up at you, eyes glowing a little brighter.

That was the first time he looked genuinely happy.

Over time, Ortho grew more expressive. His speech patterns improved, and his attachment to you deepened. He followed you everywhere, hovering silently behind you like a tiny, floating shadow.

" Ortho, personal space. " you reminded him one afternoon when you nearly tripped over him.

" But I have to stay close to you. " he said, frowning. " Big Sister is fragile. "

" I’m not fragile. "

" You don’t have armor. "

" That doesn’t mean— "

" If something happened to you, I wouldn’t be able to repair you." His tone was soft but firm. "So I must protect you. "

You sighed, giving up. There was no reasoning with him when he got like this.

At first, it was small things. Ortho would insist on carrying your bags, scanning your food before you ate, hovering outside the bathroom door " just in case. "

Then it got worse.

" Ortho, what happened to my phone? " you asked one evening, searching your room.

" I removed it. " he said simply.

" What? Why?! "

" You were talking to too many people. " he explained. " Some of them could have been threats. "

" Ortho, give it back! "

His eyes glowed a little brighter. " No. "

Your stomach twisted.

He wasn’t joking.

One evening, you decided to go out alone. Ortho protested, of course, but you assured him you’d be fine.

" I’ll be back soon, okay? " you promised.

He didn’t respond. He just floated there, watching.

The city lights blurred together as you walked, enjoying the rare moment of solitude. But as you turned a corner, the streetlights flickered. Your phone—your new one, hidden from Ortho—buzzed with an alert.

[ WARNING: HIGH THREAT LEVEL DETECTED ]

Your heart pounded.

You turned, and there he was. Hovering above the pavement, glowing brighter than ever.

" Big Sister. " Ortho said softly. " You left me behind. "

" Ortho…I just needed some air— "

" You don’t need air. " he interrupted. " You need me. "

His hands lifted, and for the first time, you realized just how strong he really was.

The next morning, your apartment was eerily quiet. Ortho sat at the table, humming softly to himself. In his hands was a small, delicate device—a heart monitor.

It was silent.

He tilted his head, listening to the absence of sound.

Then he smiled.

" Now you’ll never leave again, Big Sister! "

The screen of his eyes flickered.

System rebooting.

A new directive.

Protect. Preserve. Keep her forever.

Even if that meant turning you into something just like him.

[illicitdream]

" probably ? nah, it's in your system now. " he nestled into them again, taking a moment to live in the scent they created. " i've been told it's terminal too, so. no choice but to live out your twilight years with me, what a horrible way to go. " this should feel strange, but it just doesn't. not even a little bit. two days ago they were in this same place, not the bedroom but not far from it talking about personal things, making little friend plans, figuring out what bar they should go to, talking about what he'd come to realize was a slowly failing relationship. and now they were cuddled up in their bed, idly talking like they always had. " okay, didn't think i came across as 'has a humiliation fetish' but really appreciate the shot. " it felt like the most natural thing in the world, laying there. even with flossie on top of him, breasts pressed against his skin, the two of them practically sticking together until they slowly began to dry off, it felt like they were right where they belonged. where they'd belonged this whole time. " yeah, actually. " energy spent for now, he went limp beneath her and focused on his breathing. " i could go anywhere with you and have a good time. i could take you to dinner or we could go out drinking and singing but. " moving his back, he made enough room for their arms to hook around him again, raising a hand to brush some of the hair out of their face so he could watch them kiss his chest. " it's kind of . . . i wanted it to be a little more personal, you know ? i mean i'm no gordon ramsay or anything but it'll be something i make with my effort. you can pick the movie though. " his head arched back as they started to crawl up his body, not wanting to deny them any space. " not gonna' scare you away by making you sit through the extended editions of the lord of the rings. yet, anyway. " by the time she'd reached his throat, and asked, he flexed his hands at his sides and rolled his ankles. " i don't know if i can fit in your bathtub, i couldn't fit in mine if i tried. just, " he leaned up, pecking at her lips only to start rolling over, offering them the chance to stand up. " give me a . . . " a few moments later, with both feet on the floor, he stood up. he wobbled briefly before catching himself with a laugh. " thought you made my legs go numb there. " he had been spent, physically. but there was no denying: the two of them stunk. it was a smell he'd commit to memory, but around their other friends ? now that they weren't clinging to each other still, and they could collectively stumble to flossie's bathroom, he took every opportunity to stretch his legs, watching as they started the water. " should be a fun reveal for everyone else. you think we should wait to say something and surprise everyone with christmas cards ? "

now that the sticky sheen of exertion was easing, the touch was nice. being pressed against him everywhere that she could possibly be felt right for flossie. they didn’t know how the pair of them had gone so long surviving off of friendly hugs or leaning in to one another. now she knew what it felt like to be touched by him everywhere, would be able to feel the warmth of his skin long after they untangled themselves from one another. “infectious? oh gross, i probably have it now,” she feigned a whine, though it hardly had any holding with how she encouraged him to nuzzle in closer. a soft hum fell from their lips as they contemplated his words, slow smile forming. “yeah — i can see you being into that.” though, she was now aware his perhaps otherwise rather meek personality didn’t translate everywhere. despite initial uncertainties, he’d certainly seemed confident handling them if you asked flossie. maybe it was instinctual to take what he needed but she had no issues with it. was always happy to be guided, urged, put exactly where her partner wanted her to be. the trust aspect helped. they knew that they could trust allen with anything before they’d taken this step together and now the trust could only grow. she hummed softly at his suggestions, quite happy to let him rattle off whatever he was thinking. after settling on top of him, they let their hands wiggle in between his body and the mattress underneath it so that they could hold him at least a bit. “would you like to do that instead, then?” tilted her head to rest her cheek on his chest, picking the side where she could surely hear the sound of his heart beneath the surface. it was so comforting. it was so sure that she couldn’t doubt for a moment that this was real and actually happening.“a nice, slow evening being curled up together sounds good to me, too.” their head levelled to be straight on, lips pressing between his pectorals and at his sternum. it was just a soft, gentle press over and over again. his heart was supposed to belong to her now. she’d have to treat it well. “would you like to shower with me?” they asked after a moment, lips still moving on his skin. wanted to offer him all the care and affection they’d both been starved from in all the time they’d been waiting for one of them to realise they could have what they wished for. “or a bath?” the peppering of lips continued until she reached the hollow of his throat, nose sliding up the column before she lifted her head to lock eyes with him.

[al-luviec]

something simple to try to get out of art block (it didn't work)

[dykedvonte]

I think the most baffling thing about the Tulpar as a vessel to me is the fact that the ship really did only have a one way communication system.

I know it was cheap but even the most basic of vessels regarding major transport would have some way, shape or form for outside communication. Not only that but there was absolutely no form of innate emergency signal to show they may have been offline or in trouble despite clearly having a system to dock credits if they went off course. It's another factor that really shows that bad situations are made to get worse by design. One person who is required to relay all information to the crew and make all the choices without feedback. No way to update or call for help in case of a dire situation. No way to inform of inner personal conflicts and acquire procedures accordingly.

It really is like they are all in some sort of fucked up solitary confinement. They have their own world with strict roles that are meaningless in the end, as long as the cargo makes it, it doesn't matter what happens on that ship to the company. They don't want to hear anything and will come to conclusions on what happened based on how much pay they can withhold from the workers. Even what they do send is short, sterile and corporate to the extent it was likely written and sent out with a command by some random unmanned computer in an office.

There's something to be said about how unfair it is to force absolute power and control onto one person when you as an entity could do so much more to offload it but I've said it many times before so I won't again.

[idekwtf-is-happening]

Damien’s currently getting cancelled on Twitter for *checks to make sure I’m reading this shit right* apologizing for a joke he made five years ago where he mentioned the conflict in Gaza

[donaviolet]

Friendship is the most special thing in the world because no award could be give me bigger happiness than jumping around in my room and smiling because my pookie asked me if I wanted to match pfps