#hope love is with all of u too. in every shape. love of friends and lovers and family and all the other things and people

[corpsentry]

love poem (typical)

[sugrhigh]

THE BOY IS MINE - ( m.s )

REQUESTED**

summary- after years of friendship, you’ve seen matt date people before, but none of them have been as bad as this new one. you’ve never interfered with any of the girls in the past, but one night she takes it too far and your true feelings come out.

warnings- cursing, unprotected sex (pretend ur on birth control but also wrap it before you tap it), choking, cheating, dom!matt, it’s smut with a plot guys are we surprised (read at ur own fucking discretion PLEASE!)

a/n: thank you @stonermattsgf for the request!! i fucking loved this concept and the song eats down i hope i did u some justice <3 the touch it chris fic will be coming too cuz im fuckin with that song as well (if you weren’t tagged it wouldn’t let me tag you, i’m sorry!!)

@fawnchives @teapartyprincess4two @sturnioloco @mattinside @l9vesick @sturnsblunt @ev3rgreenxtrees @wh0resstuff @matthewsmocktails @cherrypostsposts @bxbynyah7 @seababehh @sturnsfav @mattsluv @sturniolossss @melanch0lybby @sturniolos-blog @lustfulslxt @sturnioloobssesd @ginswife @amypull @vivianalovesmatt @st4niolos @sturnioloobessed @sturnlova @bigbeefybitch @minhyucks @iheart-zegras @vicsguitarr @melonjollyranche @hearts4matty @vickyzloserz @user8000000 @xoxo4chrisss @unfilteredassmf @mattsbiggesthoe @chrisstopherfilmed @st3rniolo @goldengrapejuice @luv2matt @vsangel-starbies @mikaelabutterfield @mattnchrisworld @bluesturniolo333 @wurlibydominicfike @kp07on @hayleyreadsblog

in no universe did you expect to be pining after one of your best friends.

it had always been strictly platonic between you and matt, aside from a little harmless flirting over the years. you loved him and his brothers so much that you never wanted to mess anything up, or complicate things when the dynamic was already perfect.

but as much as you’re close with each of them, you know you’ve always understood matt on a deeper level. you share the same goals, the same fears, even the same taste in music and movies.

he’s always been the first person to check in, the only one who can read your mood like the back of his hand, the guy who cheers you up and lets you cry on his shoulder when things are shitty.

despite these sweet gestures, you’ve both had your fair share of relationships and flings while being best friends. none of them have ever bothered you before, and you’ve always tried to be respectful and kind to whichever girl he picks.

that is, until now.

matt is sitting across from you on the couch in their living room, slight frown etched on his face. his girlfriend, maya, has her legs sprawled across his lap comfortably, arms linked like she’s claiming him.

her eyes are practically locked on you. you don’t blame her; she’s well aware that you’re not her biggest fan.

all she does is complain about all of the things she doesn’t like about matt. last time she hung out with you guys, she was bitching about the fact that he kissed her in public at a party, as if she was worried he was scaring off other guys.

when he buys her flowers, they’re the wrong ones. if he takes her to dinner, she whines about the food. she’ll even criticize his clothes, demanding that they match and he hides the tattoos. to her, he can’t do anything right, even though he’s incredible just the way he is.

so it drives you absolutely insane watching the way she walks all over matt, all over his brothers, even you. it’s been two months of this agony, and you can’t believe it’s even lasted this long.

you spend nearly every day thinking about how much better you could treat him. every time he touches you, no matter how briefly, your skin burns in desire. it’s selfish to want someone who’s taken, and you’re well aware of that.

but you just love matt, you know him. and he deserves better. maybe it’s you, maybe it’s not. but it’s certainly not maya.

“give it to me, fuckhead.” chris’s voice rips you out of your trance, and you snap your head toward the middle of the U-shaped sofa.

he’s currently fighting nick for the remote, who slaps the side of his arm rather hard. chris lets go, only to pull his brother into a headlock seconds later. nick lets out a yelp of surprise, jamming an elbow into his side to get him to stop.

in all the commotion, you decide to grab the remote for yourself, a wide smile settling across your features as you take it into your palm.

they both notice quickly, groaning in protest as you wave it at them tauntingly.

“too slow! now i get to pick, idiots.” you tease.

“c’mon, i just went to war for that thing.” nick complains, kicking your leg half-heartedly, but you just shake your head.

“snooze you lose.”

you scroll through your options, trying to pay no mind to the way maya is whispering to matt for so long she could be reciting the bible. then your eyes land on a title that makes you pause, chuckling a little to yourself.

“oh no way, they have fucking cocaine bear on here?” chris cackles.

nick looks rather amused himself, raising his eyebrows like he’s intrigued. “i mean, i’m game.”

you glance over at matt, who’s already looking at you with a grin on his face. he mentioned the movie to you a little while ago, and how he just had to see how stupid it was eventually.

“why would we waste our time watching this shit? isn’t it supposed to be awful?” maya chimes from beside him, and your gaze narrows in on her.

“it’ll be funny, you know, ‘cause it’s so bad.” you reply, trying to keep your voice light and friendly.

she tilts her head to the side slightly, studying you with disapproving eyes. “yeah, i’m not so sure about trusting your taste. i mean, that god-awful outfit is just one example.”

the air seems to be sucked out of the room as you grip your sweats self-consciously. nobody moves, nobody speaks. you feel the anger flare up in your veins as you look at matt, wondering if he’s going to step in like he should.

but he doesn’t. in fact, he’s avoiding your gaze altogether. so you square your shoulders and turn your focus back to the girl you dislike so much. you’re done with the passive aggressive comments, with all of the bullshit glares and insults.

you’re done letting her bulldoze you. if matt wants to go through that, fine. but he doesn’t have to take everyone down with him by subjecting them to maya’s presence.

“well, you seem to be the only one who has a problem with my taste, so maybe you should just leave.” you say calmly, smiling sarcastically at the end because you can’t help it.

her mouth pops open, and you can hear chris and nick trying to stifle their gasps and chuckles. even the corner of matt’s lips turn up, which makes you wonder.

maya turns to look at her boyfriend, completely astonished. “are you seriously going to let her talk to me like that?”

he seems conflicted as he briefly looks your direction, clearing his throat to buy some time. you tilt an eyebrow, crossing your arms like you’re just waiting for him to pick his side.

she may have asked the question, but now you’re dying to know the answer.

“maya is right. and, uh, i think you should apologize.” matt fumbles with his words, unable to speak to you directly.

you feel the fury work its way up your face, and you force yourself to blink away the burning sensation of frustrated tears. maya looks far too satisfied, and you want to slap the smirk off of her face.

but you know you can’t lay hands on her, so you decide your words will have to be your knives.

“you know what, i am sorry,” you begin, raising your hands in surrender.

they’re both a bit surprised by this change in direction, so after a brief pause, you continue.

“i’m really sorry that you’re dating a stuck up bitch. i’m sorry that she’s constantly taking advantage of your kindness. i’m sorry that she treats you like shit, that she talks down to you like you’re a child, that she’s never satisfied with the things you do. and i’m especially sorry that you continue to let her, because you can do so much better.”

if maya’s eyeballs could pop out of her skull, you would imagine it would be exactly like how she looks right now. matt is also slack jawed beside her, and you can’t be near him any longer.

so you stand up, turning to leave the boy you love so much without another word.

the fresh night air of spring is a relief once you step out the front door, and you try to let it calm you as you hustle toward your car. you can already feel your phone buzzing in your back pocket as you move, presumably nick and chris.

you hope they’re not angry. it’s bad enough knowing that you’ve royally fucked things up with matt, but you couldn’t bare it if all three of them hated you.

you practically toss yourself into the drivers seat, slamming the door closed with a force that shakes the entire vehicle. you’re peeling out of the driveway before you can even reflect on the consequences of your actions, speeding home as if your life depended on it.

your ringtone continues to erupt as you drive along the backroads, but you force yourself to ignore it for the time being.

only once you throw the car into park in your own driveway do you check the messages, scrolling through the numerous notifications. unsurprisingly most of them are from nick and chris like you presumed, wondering if you’re alright and applauding you for finally standing up to the wicked witch of the west.

for a brief moment, their kind words make you feel better.

but then your eyes catch a contact that you actually don’t expect; matt’s. you stare at your device, throat going completely dry. a missed call and two texts.

matt

i’m coming over

don’t bother saying no, im already on my way

that was five minutes ago, which means he’s not too far behind you. you tear out of your car and across the yard, throwing the door open carelessly.

your heart is still slamming against your ribcage, and fear crawls up your throat as you press your back to the wood, kicking your flip flops off in the general direction of the coat rack.

your mind flashes to the idea of him yelling at you, which you suppose would be somewhat warranted. you’ve seen matt angry on a couple of occasions, and you can’t imagine he has anything kind to say to you right now.

you pace the foyer as you wait for his arrival, picking at the beds of your fingernails anxiously.

and then it happens; the loud knock on the front door, followed by another series of harsh slams.

impatient motherfucker.

you straighten up as your palm wraps around the knob, sucking in a breath before pulling it open to reveal a rather disheveled matt.

he’s breathing heavy, hair messy as if he’s been tugging at it for the entire drive. his earrings glint in the porch light as he stares at you like he’s trying to commit every feature to memory, wetting his lips hungrily.

“matt—”

you barely get his name out before he wraps his ring-clad fingers around your throat, pulling your mouth to his harshly. he molds against you perfectly, his other hand traveling to your hip to hold you flush against his own body.

he just couldn’t help it. he was so desperate on the entire ride over, replaying your outburst on a loop in his mind as he drove further and further away from his girlfriend. there’s been only a few occasions he’s seen you that upset, and your comments had been a necessary slap in the face.

plus, watching you fight for him when he was too much of a bitch to do it himself was a bigger turn-on than he’d like to admit.

all he’s ever wanted is you. and it shouldn’t have taken this long to admit it to himself.

matt guides you backwards, hand still squeezing your neck as he blindly kicks the door shut with one foot. you feel your back bump against the kitchen counter, and you’re trying to register what the hell is going on, but his kiss is so fucking intoxicating that it’s impossible to think clearly.

his tongue slides against yours passionately, and the flavored chapstick you’re wearing is driving him insane. you can feel him growing hard against your thigh as he toys with the elastic waistband of your pants suggestively.

you have no idea if this means it’s officially over with him and maya, but you find that you quite frankly don’t give a shit.

in this moment, he’s yours.

his fingers finally dip into your sweats a few seconds later, traveling down to brush against your clothed heat as he moves his mouth to your jaw sloppily. a breathy moan escapes before you can stop it, involuntarily rutting your hips against his cold rings in search of more friction.

one of your hands goes to grip the hair at the nape of his neck while the other claws at his back, desperately wrapping your knuckle around the cloth of his muscle tee.

“you like that?” matt grumbles against your throat, nipping at the skin as he begins to apply real pressure to your cunt in little circular motions.

your back arches and you tilt your head to the side so you can give him full access, silently hoping he’ll leave a mark behind.

“you’ve been thinking about me touching you like this, haven’t you? wishing i would come fuck you instead of her?” he questions further, moving his head slightly so he’s speaking directly into your ear.

the hand that was choking you slides down so he can grope your chest, his thumb running over one of your hardened nipples through the thin shirt you’re wearing. the combined pleasure has you whining in his grasp, a submissive sound that you wish you weren’t making.

you can feel him grinning as he presses his mouth to that sweet spot below your earlobe, his tongue darting out to wet the area.

“you want me just as much.” you manage to find your voice, though your claim is muttered with no conviction.

matt pauses his movements and brings both hands to your waistband again, which makes you whimper as you clench around nothing. his mouth finds yours briefly to swallow the sound, and he bites down on your bottom lip as he pulls away.

“you’re not wrong. so are you gonna give me what i want, baby?” he asks as he teases your sweats and panties just a little lower on your hips.

“keep going.” you plead.

you let go of your grip on his body so he can tug both items down to your ankles, helping you step out of their grasp before discarding them a couple feet away.

matt doesn’t immediately stand back up; instead he takes his time, kissing the side of your knees as his hands slide up the outside of your thighs. you feel so exposed, so on-display that you clench your legs together before you can help it.

he immediately pries them apart, shaking his head slightly with a little smirk. “don’t be shy now, you had so much to say earlier.”

his words spur you on, so you spread yourself wider, opting to grip the counter as he reattaches his lips to your inner thighs. matt inches closer and closer to where you really need him, taking his time to nip at the supple flesh that comes before.

he pulls away right when you think he’s finally about to put his mouth on you, letting his hot breath fan across your soaked center. it makes you shiver in anticipation, and you’re getting a little too needy now.

“quit fucking teas—oh shit.”

you throw your head back as his two fingers spread you apart, tongue coming in contact with the middle of your cunt as he laps at the wetness that had pooled there.

he slows his pace slightly after a moment, making sure to pay attention to the whole area, working his way up until his nose bumps against your clit. you spit a curse out, letting one hand go so you can grip his soft hair.

matt continues on, his lips closing around the sensitive bud so he can apply more pressure and suction. your gut flips at the sensation and your grip on his roots tightens as his mouth works.

he grumbles, loving the way you’re pulling at him so desperately. the noise sends vibrations through your core, which only makes the experience more enjoyable.

“fuckkk, matt, feels so good.” you praise dumbly, your words slurring.

the vocal admiration makes his pulse quicken, and at this point he’s straining against his jeans. he just can’t believe he’s got you like this, grinding your cunt against his face as if he’s the best you’ve ever had.

he can tell you’re growing closer just based on the little gasps and moans leaving your mouth, and your legs begin to shake ever so slightly. but he won’t let you finish just yet.

“want to be inside this pretty pussy.” he pulls away to say it, pressing one more wet kiss to the delicate area before he gets up.

you’re craving more, so you decide to take initiative, reaching for his belt and fumbling to undo the buckle. you tear it from the loops and toss it away, moving to his zipper as he reaches behind his head to tug his loose tank off.

his pants fall to the floor, leaving him in only his tented boxers. he’s quick to kick his shoes off, followed by his jeans right after.

then his hands go to your waist, fingers digging into the smooth flesh.

“up.” he instructs bluntly, helping lift you onto the end of the marbled countertop so he’s standing between your legs.

he lifts your shirt up next, and you help him out by throwing your arms above your head so he can fully remove it. his eyes train downwards, admiring the way your sheer bra hugs your tits. it hardly leaves anything to the imagination, and matt finds it extremely hot that you’ve been wearing it all night without him knowing.

before he can make a move, you surprise him by reaching back confidently to unhook the garment yourself. you let it slip from your shoulders before throwing it to your side, revealing your bare chest to him wordlessly.

he pulls his lip between his teeth as he exhales, gently guiding you downwards so your back is pressed flat against the cool surface. matt looks intimidating standing over you, his dark eyes drinking in every inch of your body.

“you’re so fucking sexy.” he says in awe, leaning down to give you another real kiss, a salty mix of sweat and arousal on his lips.

then he finds his way down to your collarbone, staying there shortly before traveling between the valley of your breasts. without warning, he presses his tongue flat across one nipple, flicking it back and forth.

you push your chest further into his face with a moan, both hands in his hair this time. he moves to the other perky bud, sucking on it as his teeth graze the tissue ever so slightly.

you’re practically writhing underneath him, and you can feel the pit growing in your stomach again. so even though it feels incredible, you yank his head back off of your chest by his hair.

“need you to fuck me.” you mutter, pushing his hair out of his face with both of your hands.

matt nods once, straightening so he can slide his underwear down. his erection finally springs free, pink tip glistening with precum. you watch as he spreads the wetness around, pumping himself in his hand a few times.

he’s bigger than you expected, and your mouth is watering just thinking about how much you want him to be pounding into you already.

“wrap your legs around me princess.” he commands gruffly, and you do just as you’re told, hooking your ankles behind his back.

his dick presses against your heat, and you buck against it to try and feel more. matt is quick to steady your hips roughly, holding you down against the edge of the counter as he teases himself into your entrance.

you both moan, his low and rumbling, yours high-pitched and greedy. you use your thighs to pull him closer, forcing him to drive into you fully so you can feel that pleasurable stretch.

“mmmn—fuck, you’re so tight.” he sighs, giving you another moment before he begins to drag his cock in and out at a steady pace.

you rock with him as best you can, finding the perfect rhythm so that he’s plowing his full length into you, filling the house with the sound of skin slapping skin.

matt lets one hand wrap around your neck again to choke you, tattoos on display as his muscles flex, and the pressure traps your lewd cries in your throat. his other fingers continue to toy with your nipples, which makes you arch off the counter, head rolled back as your eyes screw shut.

“look at you, taking me like such a good girl. just like i knew you would.” he compliments breathlessly.

he starts snapping his hips harder, enjoying the way your tits bounce as you slide slightly against the slick counter. you look so fucking beautiful, mouth partially open, barely able to squeak out a moan.

never in a million years did matt think he’d get the opportunity to fulfill all of his shamefully dirty fantasies about you, but here you are, completely naked and spread out in your own kitchen.

you’re squeezing around him now with every stroke, and he somehow keeps getting deeper, hitting your g-spot in a way that makes you jerk.

the familiar feeling of your abs tightening occurs as you get closer to your orgasm, and you swear you’re seeing stars at this point. he’s right there with you, a groaning mess as your fingers reach up to dig into his bicep.

“yes, matt, right there! m’gonna—” you fumble over your words, unable to finish the thought as the satisfaction builds.

he uses the last of his strength to drill into you, moving both hands back to your waist quickly so he can slam you down on his cock a few more times.

“come all over this dick baby, don’t hold back.”

you’re practically screaming his name as you hit your high, releasing all over him as his hot cum spills into you at the same time.

he slows his movements as you look up at him with bleary eyes, enjoying the last moments of being inside you before he pulls out. you feel your mixed arousal dripping out onto the counter, and you don’t even care that you’ll have to clean it up later.

that was completely worth the mess.

your chest continues to heave as you relish in the come down, dropping your thighs from his hips so he’s free to move around.

but matt stays between them, leaning down to capture your mouth with his one final time. it’s brief, but it means more than either of you truly understand.

he’s the one to break it first, pressing his forehead against yours before he speaks. “you’re incredible, you know that?”

you smile weakly, pushing against his chest to put some distance between the two of you. reality is creeping back in, reminding you that this was probably a one time thing.

“help me down?” you ask, and he complies.

matt lifts you a bit as you slide off the countertop, setting you back on real ground a second later. you’re not sure what to say as you stand before him, completely fucked out and terrified of whatever is coming next.

“so, um…i should probably get cleaned up.” you try to sound casual, even though you’re feeling anything but relaxed.

he immediately notices the switch in tone, the way you’re wrapping your arms around yourself like you’re trying to shrink away and hide. he’s also pretty sure he knows where this insecurity is coming from.

his fingers go to grip your chin gently, demanding that you look him in the face. your eyes widen as he brushes his thumb along your swollen bottom lip.

“i’m cutting things off with maya. i just…love you. and i’m sorry it took me so long.” matt finally admits.

it takes a second to click in your brain, but when it does a wide grin spreads across your face. butterflies erupt in your stomach, and you kiss the pad of his finger as he moves it along your mouth.

“i love you too, but i think you knew that already.” you tease playfully.

“yeah, maybe. but i like hearing you say it out loud.”

[arminsumi]

SANCTUARY

💗 GOJO さとる

warnings : angst, some fluff (?), satoru is such an asshole on the exterior 🥹, not proofread

the strongest... falling in love with the weakest. he's bullied n teased u about being the weakest, a weakling; "how did they let someone like you into jujutsu tech?"

he's so mean and condescending. he trails alongside u on missions. he asks "hey, bet you missed me" when he intrudes on missions that you very nearly had under control. he watches you from the bleachers as you hopelessly practice martial arts with suguru. he steals your quiz papers when the teacher isn't looking.

but of course... he has ulterior motives. his exterior is just a big act, he's really just a teenager who belongs in the drama club.

he's sticking to ur side during missions to protect ur "stupid weak ass". he's always popping his face into a scene to make sure that curse doesn't escape, cuz otherwise he has to listen to you getting another reprimanding from yaga. satoru's the one who asked suguru to teach you martial arts every day, encouraging his best friend to grill the movements into your brain. and he steals your quiz papers to quickly rub out all the wrong answers you filled in, and correct them so that tomorrow you're met with a baffling A* grade.

he's doing everything he can to keep you from being expelled.

yet he stands in front of you, hands lazing in his pockets, taunting you about being a shorty who can't fight for shit. "you're one of those fucking weaklings i have to protect..." he says bitterly, through gritted teeth... but he doesn't mean it how you interpret it. he's so upset with the world, and how he has to work hard to protect someone who deserves to be born into an idyllic paradise.

when you're making that defeated frown, looking helpless on the floor after losing to a curse, he glares over and yells "what are you doing... get up." and he forces you to get on your feet.

he's confusing, isn't he? how he tells you in the school corridors on hot summer days, "you're too weak to fight for yourself." and then when you're unconscious after encountering a special-grade, he clutches your body protectively and sobs, "are you crazy? why wouldn't you call me... hey, keep your eyes open..." he's furrowing his brows at you, expression angry not because you're weak... but because this world treats frail people terribly and he hates it with all his soul. he doesn't want to see you fighting. he doesn't want to see you practicing jujutsu. he doesn't want you to ever see another curse's morbid face again.

he's determined to turn the world into a sanctuary for you. that's what he puts in his wedding vows to you, when the two of you reach the age of 25. and he doesn't break it, he doesn't falter, he always keeps good pace and drains and exhausts himself in order to mold the shape of the world to fit someone as soft as you.

"i can't believe something as soft as you was given to me from such a hard world."

i'm gonna make it better, baby. i'm gonna build a new world for you. one that doesn't try to hurt us. until i can achieve that goal, i hope my embrace can act as your sanctuary.

[cheolism]

✧ mirror mirror

✧ yoon jeonghan x f!reader ✧ summary: jeonghan asks to roleplay him being jealous and fucks you like the little desperate slut you are ✧ wc is approx 10.7k ✧ tags: roleplaying, secret relationship (mentioned but not explored), smut ✧ warnings: mdni. feminine pet names, use of slut, pervert, mounting. jealousy, posessiveness, taunting and teasing, picture taking. rough and unprotected sex, squirting, dry humping. mirror sex, aftercare, roleplaying. ✧ request: i’m not quite sure if you’re still taking requests but do you think i could request jeonghan (preferably dom but sub would be fine too) smut with mirror? you can take ur time with it hope it’s not a bother! love reading your fics! have a great day🫶🫶 ✧ anon idk if this is what u wanted but i ran w it. i'm sorry it took a hot minute!!! i hope you enjoy it <3333

He had been watching you all night. 

Jeonghan's eyes always tended to be turned towards you, but not like this. Usually he watched you with unbridled affection, love, adoration. But tonight his gaze was narrowed, his eyes sharp and dark, accentuated by the way he would constantly brush his dark bangs back and away from his face.

You didn't know what you had done to deserve that look from him. You weren't wearing anything revealing, hadn't done anything tantalizing or seductive. All night you had just sat at the couch, sipping at your drink and nodding along to Seungcheol's words.

Your friend was pleasantly buzzed, a large smile on his face and cheeks blushed. He had defeated a few others in beer pong, but that hadn't meant he walked away unscathed.

"I really think we'll be seeing all this warm weather bite us in the ass come summer," he was saying. "There's no way we don't."

You hummed, agreeing. "Remember when it got so cold that one year where it was in the negatives during the afternoon?"

"Yes!" Seungcheol gasped, eyes bright. Mingyu approached the couch, a pout on his face. He wedged himself next to Seungcheol and the arm of the couch, forcing Seungcheol closer to you.

Your thighs were touching his, his shoulder against yours. The two of you adjusted to get more comfortable, but not separating entirely.

There was movement from the wall. Jeonghan was still watching you, eyes taking in your every move. It was obvious he wasn't paying attention to Seokmin, who was dramatically waving his arms around to emphasize his story.

Jeonghan had, uncharacteristically, worn all black, form-fitting clothing. His jeans clung to his legs, revealing their slender shape; he wore a tank-top that hugged his stomach and chest, only hidden by his jacket. His hair was as black as his clothes, adding to the overall look that had your neurons and electrons screaming, eyes constantly smoothing over his form in an attempt to memorize the look.

Seungcheol shifted. He turned towards you, his wide body partially shielding Jeonghan from your view. He moved his arm to press against the couch, caging you in on one side. Seungcheol's bangs obscured his eyes as he ducked his head, voice low.

"I know you're dating Jeonghan." He ignored your gasp, your eyes widening. "And I know he hasn't looked away from you once all night. How about I help move things along, hm?"

"Seungcheol --"

"Don't worry, princess," Seungcheol grinned, eyes still holding that dangerously bright look. He reached out, hand cradling your cheek. "I won't tell anyone. Won't have to after this."

Then he was being shoved away from you, his body hitting Mingyu's. Your boyfriend was standing in front of the two of you, his drink gone, his jaw jutting out as he visibly tried to reign in his anger. Jeonghan, however much he tried to appear otherwise, wasn't good at hiding his emotions.

His anger was seen in the furrow of his brows, the firmness of his lips; the harsh, dark look of his eyes and the way his hands clenched at his sides.

"Y/n," He began, eyes never moving from Seungcheol. "Didn't you say that you couldn't stay long tonight? I think it's time for you to be going home. Why don't I take you."

You knew he wasn't asking, but commanding. Confused, but obedient, you stood from the couch. "I guess that's all right. See you later, Seungcheol."

"Bye, baby," Seungcheol sang, relaxing back in the couch. He had a little smirk on his face, pleased.

Jeonghan scoffed, grabbing your wrist. He pulled you towards him, his other hand settling on your waist. "Fuck off, Choi Seungcheol."

Seungcheol's laughter followed the two of you as you left the room, Jeonghan's grip on you never faltering. Eyes turned towards the two of you as you left the house party, taking in Jeonghan's hold on you, how urgently he maneuvered you.

Jeonghan said nothing to you as he led you to his car. He did open the passenger door for you, gently pushing you down onto the seat. You peered up at him with wide eyes as he stood before you, towering over your sitting form. "Jeonghan? Seungcheol wasn't doing anything, you don't have anything to be jealous about, I swear."

A soft smile that countered the past five minutes took over Jeonghan's face. He braced his hands on the car, leaning down and lowering his face towards you. "I know, sweetheart. But let's pretend he was, and let's pretend that I do."

"Pretend?"

Jeonghan's smile turned into a little smirk, the dark look that he had worn inside the house from watching you with Seungcheol returning to his face. "Pretend, my darling. Let's pretend Seungcheol was intent on fucking your perfect little pussy, and let's pretend I'm driven mad by jealousy, mad enough to fuck your cunt raw."

Every single thought flew out of your mind, eyes wide on your boyfriend. It was like the whole world went silent, shocked by his words.

Then you rewound his words. He wanted to pretend that Seungcheol, his best friend, had wanted -- you gulped -- wanted to "fuck your perfect little pussy", wanted to pretend that he was jealous so he could have an excuse to fuck you roughly.

The two of you had begun having sex a few weeks ago, a month after you had begun your relationship. There hadn't been enough time for the two of you, in your shared opinion, to be fully comfortable with having rougher sex.

Not that sex had been boring with Jeonghan. Not with how expertly he worked his fingers in your cunt, exploring within you. Not with how he was content to just lay between your thighs, arms wrapped around them to keep them spread wide, tonguing lazily at your clit for what seemed to be hours on end.

But still --

"If it's okay with you, of course," Jeonghan hurriedly added. He stepped off the curb, crowding into the car. His fingers sunk into your hair, tilting your head back. Jeonghan's eyes flickered over your face, drinking you in. "We can talk about it more on the drive."

You nodded, swallowing harshly.

Jeonghan smiled. He bent down, pressing his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. The smell of alcohol hit your nose, and you couldn't help but wrinkle it.

Jeonghan laughed. "Cute."

Another kiss, this time deeper. He moved his mouth against yours lavishly, taking his time, as if the world would stop turning just so he could devour you. Each press was quick and wet, his tongue rolling into your mouth and mixing his spit with yours; each press sent a wave of heat through you, your head beginning to spin.

Jeonghan moved away, a string of spit connecting his mouth to yours, the smack of mouths separating sending a final wave of heat, one that landed in your cunt.

He laughed, darting forward to press a sweet kiss to your forehead. "How cute you are. You look like I've been fucking you when all we've done is kiss."

"Hush." You turned your head away from him, breaking his hold. Jeonghan pulled away and shut the car door, but even then you could hear the sound of his giggles.

One thing about Yoon Jeonghan, you had come to discover, was that he was absolutely shameless. The two of you kept your relationship on the quieter end, but that didn't stop him. He'd tug you to the back of the group when you were with your friends, just so he could slip his hand into your back pocket and squeeze. He'd grab you before you walked out the door for work whenever the two of you spent the night together, pressing you against the wall and ravishing your mouth and neck, leaving bites and sucking hickeys.

He took delight in your embarrassment and it seemed the more embarrassed you got, the more pleased he was.

"Aesh," Jeonghan sighed, sliding in the driver's door. "Can't believe you're still embarrassed by a little kissing."

"You kissed me like -- like --" You shot him a look, curling your lip a little, hoping he would drop it.

"Like what?" Jeonghan taunted, putting the key into the ignition. "Like we were fucking?"

You gasped, shooting him a wide-eyed look. "Yoon Jeonghan!"

He laughed, putting on his seat belt. You were quiet as he pulled off the side of the road, the radio softly singing and filling the silence.

"So about me being jealous," Jeonghan began, drumming his fingers on the wheel. "I'm not. Just want to clarify. I know Seungcheol was just fucking around with me. But it would be fun to pretend, wouldn't it?"

You hummed, shifting in the seat. You reached towards the console, pushing on your seat warmer. Jeonghan shook his head when you shot him an inquiring look, declining the warmer.

"What would it include? Being jealous?"

Jeonghan shrugged. His black hair was pushed behind his ears with just enough curl to where the strands hugged the bottoms of his earlobes. He looked so sweet, with his impish little grin and large eyes. Jeonghan was so beautiful, so angelic, so princely --

And underneath it all was a pervert.

"Well. It includes all the territory that comes with being jealous when someone's trying to fuck their partner. Possessiveness, manhandling, hickeys. Fucking your sweet little cunt relentlessly, shoving my dick inside." Your pussy, shamefully, clenched aruond nothing at the lewdness. "Proving that every single inch of you, every centimeter, from the precious hair on the top of your head, your tight cunt, your littlest toe, is mine.

"If you're interested in that kinda thing."

You turned away from Jeonghan, tongue running over your lips.

Against your better judgement you began imagining it. Jeonghan's large hands squeezing your thighs, peeling them apart. His mouth on your breast, biting and sucking in turn, tongue running over your hardened nipples. Nails digging into your skin, shoulders wedging between your legs. Fingers working you open just enough to fit his dick without causing you pain, careless otherwise.

Jeonghan ramming his dick into your cunt, immediately filling you with his entire length and cockhead hitting your core. Your legs draped over his shoulders, his body flush against yours, his fingers squeezing your skin hard enough to leave bruises.

"You wouldn't be mean, would you?" You leaned forward, pushing the seat warmer off. Your ass was warm, and combined with the warmth that was quickly mounting in your cunt made you uncomfortable.

Mounting.

Jeonghan, in a fit of possessiveness, flinging you to your stomach. Hands grabbing at your hips, wrenching you up for him to fuck you on his cock, mounting you like --

Maybe you were the pervert.

"No," Jeonghan agreed, "I wouldn't be mean. And if I say anything you don't like, you can use the safe word and stop it. Besides. You're too cute. I don't think anyone can be mean to you."

You threw Jeonghan an exasperated look.  He was grinning, the streetlights casting shadows on his face, exaggerating the cut of his cheekbones, shrouding him in darkness and light both.

"Okay." You licked your lips again. "Let's do it."

"Say it." Jeonghan sang, removing one hand off of the wheel to tuck some stray black hairs behind his ear. "I want you to say it. Say 'Jeonghan, my darling, my love, I want you to fuck me like a jealous lover.'"

Huffing, you turned away from him and looked out the window. Jeonghan giggled. You crossed your legs at the ankles, tucking your hands underneath your thighs. Softly, just enough so he could hear, you repeated his words. "Jeonghan, I want -- I want you to fuck me like you're jealous."

"Why would I be jealous, sweet girl?"

You turned your head to look over your shoulder at him, squirming. He used such sweet names with you, and it was absolutely horrible how they sent warmth flooding through you, how they seemed to settle in the pit of your gut, your pussy clenching and gushing.

"You'd -- you'd be jealous of Cheollie," you murmured. "Jealous of Cheollie wanting . . ."

"What does he want?"

You licked your lips, watching the line of his sharp jaw, the way his dark eyes stared straight ahead. "He wants -- he wants to fuck me."

"Fuck your what?"

A little gasp escaped you. As your words left your lips your pussy began to leak, juices slowly trickling out and seeping into your underwear. "Cheollie wants to fuck my -- my pussy."

It was as if Jeonghan won a competition. His face lit up, satisfaction practically radiating off of him. He looked so thoroughly smug, getting you to say such dirty words.

You glanced down at his lap. His jeans, which had done nothing to hide the muscle of his thighs and the shape of his legs, did absolutely zilch in concealing the bulge of his dick. It pressed against his jeans, and you bet he felt so uncomfortable like that. You wanted to reach over the console and unzip his jeans, reach into his boxers and take out his cock, his pretty long cock.

Immediately your mouth went to watering, and you were mortified when you shifted and felt the wetness of your underwear. You were leaking from both your mouth and cunt and all Jeonghan had done was say some dirty words.

You were such a fucking pervert.

Jeonghan's little hum distracted you from your peril. He lowered the volume of the radio, even though you could barely hear it in the first place. He didn't return his hand to the wheel; instead he laid his hand on your thigh, fingers quickly squeezing your flesh before relaxing.

"You've been so mean to me tonight," Jeonghan sighed, pressing his pretty lips into a frown. "You knew what you were doing, didn't you? Letting Seungcheol snuggle up against you like that on the couch."

"Hannie?"

His hand squeezed your thigh again. His fingers, his long and elegant fingers that should be used for playing piano or guitar or something other than what your pussy hoped he was going to use them for, shifted up your thigh.

You should've worn a skirt or shorts, damn the winter weather.

"You sat with Seungcheol all night." Jeonghan's fingers brushed against the inside seam of your jeans. You watched, transfixed, as his nails played with it. "Ignored me, your boyfriend, in favor of my best friend."

"Didn't mean to," you whispered, swallowing absentmindedly. He tapped his fingers against your inner thigh and immediately you were spreading your legs, baring yourself for him.

A laugh left Jeonghan, amused by your obedience. His hand slid over your thigh and settled over your clothed cunt. A sharp gasp left you, both of your hands shooting to hold his wrist in place. Before you could help it you were grinding your hips up, driving your cunt against his hand.

"What a needy slut you are," Jeonghan said conversationally, as if he was just remarking on the weather. Then he paused. "Is that mean?"

You shook your head. "No. Not mean."

"Did you like it?" You went silent. Jeonghan, delighted, laughed. "Let me feel your cunt. I bet you did like it."

You released his hand. You were mortified of the mess you knew awaited him in your pants. Wetness had completely soaked your underwear, your cunt hot and clenching frantically, as if you were -- as if you were a needy slut.

Once your jeans were bunched around your knees, Jeonghan's hand returned to your cunt. He pressed it against your underwear, trapping it between his hand and your pussy. "You definitely liked it.  Your cunt has fucking soaked your panties. I bet I could drink your juices right from your panties."

You gasped, offended and thoroughly turned on by the image. Jeonghan ignored you. "We'll be pulling into the lot soon. As soon as we leave the car, it starts, okay? Is that okay?"

You nodded. Jeonghan removed his hand from your cunt, making you clench. Part of you wanted Jeonghan to just stick his fingers inside of you already, to press your underwear to the side and fuck you in the car.

That, however, was too much for you right now.

So you hiked your jeans back up your thighs, frowning at the feeling of your underwear sticking to your cunt once again.

Jeonghan pulled into his car space, unclipping his seat belt as he did. Once he had the car in park and turned off the engine, he reached to you. One of his hands went to your belt, guiding it off of you. "Remember, sweetheart. Just pretend.”

“Just pretend,” you echoed back, smiling at him.

Jeonghan rolled his eyes, both of his hands moving to cradle your face. “How fucking cute,” he sighed, as if your cuteness was burdensome. He ducked forward, pressing his lips to yours in a quick kiss. “I adore you.”

You laughed a little, delighted. You reached up, hands covering his and keeping them on your face. Your lips sought his back out, pressing a sweet kiss to them. Jeonghan, who was always eager for kisses and hardly ever turned them down, let out a little moan against your mouth. 

His hands sunk into your hair, bringing you closer. Jeonghan’s mouth began to move urgently against yours, trapping your lips between his, each kiss more hurried and sloppy than the one before it. 

It was weirdly hot, listening to the slick sounds of your mouth against his, kissing so desperately in his car. Your cunt gushed slick, and when you couldn’t help but pitch forward, grinding your clit down on your seat, your mouth parted in a wide, noiseless gasp. 

Jeonghan parted from you, his lips in a little grin. “So needy,” he cooed. Jeonghan pressed a final kiss to your mouth. “You ready?”

At your nod, Jeonghan was taking out the keys and opening the car door. You scrambled to leave your seat, shoving the seat belt back inside the car when it tried to hang out. 

Jeonghan was fumbling with his keys, leaning against the car when you joined him. His black hair was obscuring his face, and for a moment you were confused. 

Then he sighed, one of his hands reaching up and pushing his hair out of his face. He gave you a sharp look, his eyes hard. “What a greedy slut I’ve got on my hands, hm?”

Realization and heat flooded your system. You gaped, eyes widening a little. 

Jeonghan shook his head, pushing off of the car. He crossed to you, his hands settling on your waist. “Imagine how it looked to everyone else at that party, Y/n. Seungcheol was practically wrapped around you, his eyes fucking you right there in front of me. And you just let him.”

He laughed, a humorless thing that had your heart dipping down into the pit of your stomach. One of his hands wiggled up underneath your shirt, fingers lightly digging into your hip. “God. I bet every single bastard in that place thinks he’s the one fucking you at night. Do you think? Do you think that Mingyu thinks it’s Seungcheol making you cry at night with his dick, thinks it’s Seungcheol who makes your cunt seep so much wet that it could drown a man?”

You were saying his name, though no sound left your lips. Jeonghan shook his head, long lashes fluttering as he closed his eyes to further envelope himself in the role. “Do you think Seungcheol dreams of it? I bet he does. I bet he’s going to go home tonight and stick his hands down his pants and think of you.”

“Jeonghan!” You finally gasped, your hand, seemingly of its own will, reaching up and slapping his shoulder. 

His eyes flew open, his mouth splitting into a smile that you could only describe as villainous. “Oh? Are you trying to feign innocence? Trying to pretend that you’re some little perfect princess? Trying to convince yourself that you have no part in all this?”

“I --” You gulped. Jeonghan parted from you, though one of his hands remained on you. He used it to guide you away from the car and towards the building. “Seungcheol’s your friend, Jeonghan.”

“You think that matters?” Jeonghan rolled his eyes. “Think friendship matters when it comes to this?”

“He wouldn’t.” Jeonghan’s hand slides down your waist and to your ass as the two of you come upon the stairs, softly pushing and guiding you up the stairs. “Seungcheol isn’t like that.”

Jeonghan laughed. “And if he is? Do you know what it’s like, little dove? Knowing that it’ll be your girl that your best friend’s thinking about tonight when he fucks the nearest cunt? Knowing that it’s your girl who is so blissfully unaware?”

“Or,” Jeonghan began, holding out the word as the two of you ascended onto your floor. He used his grip on you to tug you close, your side against his. “Is that what you’re wanting?”

“Jeonghan!” You snapped. He shook out the keys, long fingers finding the correct one and sticking it into the keyhole. “You’re just being bullheaded about this. You’re making a mountain out of a mole hole.”

“Yeah?” He pushed open the door, immediately flicking on the light. Then he was yanking the keys out of the hole, both of his hands going to your hips. Jeonghan practically shoved you inside the apartment, though his grip was secure. Once the two of you were inside he slammed the door shut, throwing the keys onto the floor. 

One of his hands moved from your hip to cradle the back of your head, and then he was pushing you up against the door. Jeonghan’s hand kept your head from slamming against it, and once you were settled he used the grip on your hair to angle your face up towards him. “You really think I’m just being stubborn?”

Your lips were already parted, your heavy breathing drying them out. You gulped, running your tongue over them and not missing how his dark eyes seemed to zero in on your mouth. “Yes. You’re being -- you’re being ridiculous, Yoon Jeonghan. There’s nothing to be jealous about?”

“Nothing?” He practically hissed the word. Jeonghan pressed himself against you, wedging his leg between yours, knee knocking against the door. His other arm came up and trapped you, keeping you still. “Nothing to be jealous about, sweetheart? So tell me, then, if you’re so smart. Tell me that every single time Seungcheol watched your lips, tell me that every single time his hand went to your thigh, every time he leaned in so close --”

At this Jeonghan lowered his head, his warm breath hitting your face. You could count his eyelashes. 

“-- he wasn’t imagining kissing you, wasn’t imaging fucking you right there on that couch in front of me, making me watch.

“Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me I’m just jealous over nothing.”

You licked your lips again, feeling trapped. You knew, logically, that all of what Jeonghan had just said were lies. Seungcheol never watched your mouth when you spoke, his hand had never gone even close to your thigh. He never leaned as close as Jeonghan was now, so close that you could just push up to the tips of your toes and your lips would be on his. 

But Jeonghan, looming over you, exuded a predator waiting to pounce. His eyes were so dark they were practically black, focused on you. His body was caging you in, leaving you no room to wiggle. 

“You’re --” Your hands moved to settle on his arms, squeezing. “You’re jealous over nothing, Yoon Jeonghan.”

He growled as soon as his name left your lips. Jeonghan’s hand in your hair tightened, and he used the hold to bare your neck. Immediately his lips were on it, biting. 

A loud gasp left you, your eyes squeezing shut. 

Jeonghan’s tongue smoothed over the bite, trying to take away the sting. Then his lips were traveling, skimming, trailing his tongue over your skin and causing gooseflesh to pebble. A little whine escaped you. 

“There we are,” he murmured. He reattached his lips to your skin, beginning to suck. While he worked at bruising and marking your neck, he raised the leg that was between your thighs. Once his knee bumped at your cunt you were folding, grinding down on it as if it was his cock. 

“Jeonghan,” you moaned, feeling something begin to build. Pressure was mounting in your cunt, and you used Jeonghan’s thigh to rub off as if the two of you were horny teenagers who couldn’t even make it to the bed. 

“How needy you are,” he breathed against your neck. He released your hair, his fingers moving to ghost over your neck and the marks he left. You couldn’t help but hiss as he pressed his fingers into a particular spot, wincing. “You’re so fucking needy. No wonder you were off fucking with Seungcheol. Just can’t help yourself, can you? As soon as your boyfriend is looking away you’re searching for the nearest dick.”

You shook your head, hands squeezing at his shoulders and nails digging in. “No! Not -- not the nearest -- not Cheol --”

Jeonghan laughed, moving away from you. His hands settled on your hips, guiding you into a harsh ryuthym as you grinded down on his thigh. “Here you are fucking yourself on my thigh and still thinking about him. I bet you could get off like this, can’t you? Get off on my thigh like a little slut.”

Biting on your lip, you shook your head. “Won’t! I won’t, Jeonghan.”

Jeonghan hummed. “I bet you would if it was Seungcheol.”

“Wouldn’t! I wouldn’t --” A particular drag of your cunt against his leg had your back arching, mouth widening and eyes shutting. Pleasure shot through you, as if you were doing something more than just using your boyfriend’s thigh. 

“You would,” Jeonghan argued. “So needy you don’t even need a cock.”

“I need it,” you whined, shaking your heard. Your hands moved from his shoulders, going to grip at his hair. Then you were lowering his head, forcing Jeonghan closer. “Need your cock, Jeonghan.”

He didn’t get a chance to do anything before your mouth was on his, devouring. You took his lower lip between both of yours, sucking. Jeonghan let out a little moan, his fingers digging into your hips and stilling him. He ignored your whine. Instead Jeonghan focused on your mouth, shoving his tongue inside of it, forcing his spit into your mouth, using it, fucking it.

Lungs burning, you pulled away from him. You couldn’t manage to go far, smearing your combined saliva over his mouth and chin as you fought to catch your breath. 

Jeonghan squeezed your hips. “All good, dove?”

You nodded, hands releasing his hair. 

“Give me the safe word, darling,” Jeonghan pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Need to know you’re not all spent out from just kissing.”

You rolled your eyes, finally straightening. Jeonghan’s eyes were twinkling, though they hadn’t lost that dark, predatory look. “Green.”

His mouth returned to yours, pressing sloppy kisses to your lips. His hands moved from your hips, dipping inside of your jeans. You fought the urge to grind down on his thigh as Jeonghan’s fingers made quick work of your button and zipper, his fingers hooking into your jeans and underwear and pulling them over the curve of your ass. 

You stepped out of your jeans, and he was kicking them away. Jeonghan’s hands went to your hips and he was grinding his knee back up into your cunt, the fabric of his jeans dragging deliciously against you. You couldn’t help the little cry that left you, tilting your head back and letting it hit the door. 

“I don’t think you deserve my cock just yet,” Jeonghan murmured, leading your hips into motion. He had your clit dragging down on his jeans, insuring that every tilt back or forward had your clit moving over hte fabric, ensuyring that your cunt was soaking his pants. “Gotta earn it. Especially after your little show with Seungcheol.”

You shook your head. “Jeonghan, want your dick. I want it, please.”

“How prettily you beg,” Jeonghan laughed, though there was no happiness, no joy in it. “Love it when you beg. But you’re gonna have to give me more than that, my pretty little slut. Come on, dove. I’m giving you my thigh like a good boyfriend does. If you’re so devoted for me, like you’re claiming you are, you can get off just with my thigh. Can’t you? I know you can, sweetheart. I can feel your juices soaking my pants, can feel your little hole fluttering. Just have to give me one orgasm, lovely. Come on, cum for me.”

The cry that left you was absurdly loud. Your back arched against the door, your hips coming up and off of Jeonghan. He cursed, wrapping one of his arms around your waist to hold you in place while his other hand went to your cunt. 

Jeonghan’s fingers went to your clit, working at it furiously. You were still cumming, cries and moans leaving you freely. 

As soon as you were finished, panting and squeezing your eyes closed, you relaxed against the door. Jeonghan wrapped both of his arms around you, pulling you into him fully. “Good job, sweetheart. Knew you could do it for me.”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. Once you caught your breath, you pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Okay. Green.”

Jeonghan pulled back, one of his hands moving to your face. He reached up and tucked your hair back from your face, smoothing it and wiping off the sweat that had begun to accumulate. “You look like I’ve been fucking you all night.”

You laughed, breathless. “I feel like it.”

“Oh?” Jeonghan’s hands resumed their place on your hips, fingers digging in. You gasped, eyes wide and looking up at him. “But I’m not done with you yet, little dove. In fact, I don’t think we’ve even started.”

Then he was using his grip to hoist you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. Jeonghan moved from the door, stepping further into the hall. 

“Wait.” As soon as the word left your lips Jeonghan was pausing, eyes on your face. You tugged on one of the dark strands of hair. “Boots. Have to take off your boots.”

Jeonghan rolled his eyes, but then he was setting you on the floor. “Way to kill the mood, little dove. Go wait for me on the bed.”

You couldn’t help but giggle, jumping onto your toes to press a quick kiss to his chin. Then you were taking off down the hall, ignoring the sound of your boyfriend grumbling behind you. 

As soon as you were in your bedroom you were shucking off your socks, leaving them in the doorway. You undressed the rest of the way, leaving your clothes in a trail to your bed. 

You practically threw yourself onto it, sprawling out. You could hear Jeonghan stomping about, moving from the hall and into the bathroom. 

Absentmindedly, your hands began to wander over your body. Your fingers trailed over your stomach, leaving a tingling path behind them. You pressed them to your nipples, neary hissing in pain from how erect they were. Unable to help yourself you rolled them, toes curling in delight. 

“Well well,” Jeonghan began from the doorway. You hurriedly sat up, not having heard him leave the bathroom. “If this is a present to make up for your little act with Seungcheol, I’d consider you maybe a little bit forgiven.”

“Only a little?” You joked, wrinkling your nose at him. “After the whole incident at the door? Only a little?”

Jeonghan laughed, walking further into the room. You watched, eager, as he tugged at the sleeves of his jacket. Jeonghan undressing, you had come to discover, was just as good as undressing him yourself. He always went slow, letting you take in the sight. 

He draped his jacket over your desk chair, his forearms flexing. His black tank top clung to his torso, revealing the sharp angles of his collarbone and showing off his long, pale neck. Jeonghan, though not considerably buff, was lean. He didn’t have the biggest biceps or thighs or whatever of his friends, but still you watched his biceps clench as he worked at undoing his watch, watched his muscles jump as he gripped the bottom of his tank top and began pulling. 

You don’t know exactly what noise escaped you as his chest was revealed, but you were so turned on that you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. Your eyes roamed over his pale chest, taking in the shape of pecs, the soft little curve of his waist. 

Yoon Jeonghan was many things, many contradictory things. He was sweet and kind, mischievous and impulsive. He was the first person you turned to for comfort, the last when you had a secret. He was an angel; a devil. 

But one thing that was hard fact, you knew, was that Yoon Jeonghan was absolutely beautiful. 

His hands moved to his pants, which he had left undone. You moved from your spot on the bed, shifting to perch at the edge and watch. Jeonghan began moving closer, pushing his pants down. 

As soon as he was close enough you were reaching for him. You tucked your hands underneath the band of his underwear, pulling. His cock slapped against his stomach once freed, red and angry, white precum pulsing from the tip. 

You liked your lips, moving to grab his dick. 

Immediately his hands were around your wrists, pulling your hands away from him. You gasped, looking up at him, affronted. “Jeonghan!”

He gave you a sly little look, shaking his head. “Come on. You think cumming on my thigh was enough to make me forget about your little flirtation with Seungcheol?”

Jeonghan used his grip on your wrists to pull you up and off the bed. The sudden motion had you tipping forward and flat into his chest, face pressing against the fabric of his tank top. He still smelled like the expensive cologne he wore, still smelled sharp and elegant, like wood and richness. 

“Please,” he scoffed, releasing his hold on one of your wrists to reach up and press your hair back from your face. Undoubtedly you looked horrible. You probably looked like -- well, you probably looked like you had orgasmed against a door. Still Jeonghan looked at you hungrily, drinking in the way you pulled at his hold, the little breath that left you when he refused to let go. “Do you really think I’d be satisfied watching you get off on my leg? Just anyone could lend you their thigh, little dove.”

He leaned down, his face inches from yours. His breath was warm against your face when he spoke. “But I know only one person who can fuck as you as good as you deserve.”

“Yeah?” You replied, breathless. His eyes were so black that you could barely differentiate between the pupil and iris. “And who’s that?”

Jeonghan chuckled then, but you knew he didn’t find anything funny about what you had said. He tilted your chin up towards him with one of his fingers, his thumb running over your bottom lip. Obedient, you opened your mouth for him and let Jeonghan slip his thumb inside. You wrapped your lips around it, hollowing them and sucking. 

“What a good girl,” he hummed, his eyes narrowed in on where his thumb disappeared into your mouth. “Too bad you’re good for just anyone.”

Jeonghan removed his thumb from your mouth. Horridly, you followed, mouth still open to take it back in. He gripped your jaw, holding you in place. “Ah-ah, little dove. Sit down on the edge of the bed for me.”

He released you. The sudden freedom from his body had you staggering, unbalanced from leaning against Jeonghan. His hands went to your elbows almost immediately, adjusting you to be upright once more. “All good?”

At your nod, Jeonghan was pushing you back onto the bed. You watched as he slid his pants and underwear the rest of the way down his legs, revealing his soft, ivory white thighs and calves. You wanted to reach out and hold them, to press your fingers into his skin and watch as your fingers imprinted on him. 

Instead you sat still, eyeing him. Jeonghan went to the standing mirror in the room, adjusting it. When he tilted it to the bed, realization hit you. “Can you see yourself, Y/n?”

You gulped a little, shifting slightly. “Yeah. I can see.”

“Good.” He stalked back to the bed, eyeing you. “Now stand up.”

You obeyed. Jeonghan sat where you had been previous, leaning back on one hand. “Get in my lap.”

You hesitated. 

Jeonghan immediately turned his sharp eyes on you, narrowing them. “What are you doing? You were so desperate to show off for me earlier when you were with Seungcheol. Are you getting shy for me now? Now after you’ve came on my thigh, after you’ve soaked your panties? Or do you only show off for Seungcheol?”

You shook your head. You went to him, and once you were close enough his hands were on your waist, turning you around. Jeonghan guided you onto his lap, pressing you down so you were trapping his dick underneath your ass. He held you down for a moment, grinding his hips up into you, letting his dick rub against you. 

“What a good little dove,” he hummed, releasing you. Jeonghan reached around you, grabbing your thighs and spreading them. “Hook them on either side of me.”

Slowly, like prey trying not to move too quickly as to alert the predator stalking them from the grass, you spread your thighs. You tucked your feet behind his thighs. The cold air of the room pressed oppressively against your cunt, which had been kept warm by the heat of your arousal, causing you to shiver against Jeonghan. 

“Look at how you glisten,” Jeonghan said, his hands settling on your thighs. “Look in the mirror, sweetheart.”

Helpless, you couldn’t help but drag your eyes to the mirror. You were completely bare, offering yourself to it. You could see where your feet were wrapped around his legs, how his pale hands contrasted against the skin of your thighs. His large dark eyes watching you from over your shoulder, the little smile that he didn’t even try to hide. Your nipples, the way your breast hung, your tongue dragging over your lips. 

Your cunt, bare of any cloth covering it, and the wetness that gushed from it.

“How pretty,” Jeonghan said. 

You turned your face from the mirror, trying to face him. As quick as lightning his hand was on your chin, directing you back towards the mirror. Jeonghan hooked his chin over your shoulder, curling his lip at you, trusting you to be looking at him through the mirror. “Eyes on the mirror, darling. I want you to keep your eyes open and on the mirror at all times. Want you to make sure you know just who’s fucking you tonight.”

“Jeonghan --”

“That’s right,” he cooed, squeezing mouth shut with his hand. “And that’s the only name you ever need to remember.”

Then he released you, his hand smoothing over your skin. You watched his long, elegant fingers, so thin and yet always seemingly so thick when they were buried to the knuckle inside of your cunt, travel down your neck. Your skin pebbled, gooseflesh rising, as his hand traveled. He pressed his hand down over one of your breasts, grabbing it roughly. You watched, transfixed, as he palmed at it, rubbing and kneading. 

“Jeonghan,” you sighed, eyes glancing up and meeting his in the mirror. “Hannie, please.”

His fingers took your nipple, pinching. You let out a little cry, face contorting as he manipulated it, stretching and rubbing and tweaking it. His other hand came to join the first with your other breast, abusing your nipples. 

You wiggled in his grasp, trying to get away from his evil hands. Jeonghan hushed you, moving to still your hip. Your message had worked, however, and his hands traveled from your breasts to over your stomach before they dipped between your thighs. 

It was odd, watching his hands spread open your thighs in the mirror. You could see how his fingers skimmed over the inside of your thighs, stimulating the area and making you shiver. Whenever his fingers neared your cunt you couldn’t help but clench, helpless, yearning for him to just sink them inside of you already. 

Finally, after what seemed to be the hundredth time of him teasing you, you broke. You began turning in his hold, whining. “Jeonghan, please --”

Immediately his hand was on your jaw, pushing you to look back to the mirror. “What did I say, you little slut?” He forced his hand back between your thighs, wedging them open. “Keep your eyes on the mirror. You wanted this, remember.”

With two of his fingers he was spreading the lips of your pussy, showing you off in the mirror. He laughed. “Look at how fucking wet you are. I’ve barely done anything to you. How long have you been like this, little dove? All night? Since the car? Have you been wishing, thirsting for my cock in your tiny cunt? I bet you have. I bet you’ve been wet ever since I kissed you on the curb outside of that house, you little slut.

“In fact,” he said, his lips pressing against the shell of your ear. “I bet you’ve been wet since you sat with Seungcheol. I bet you’ve been wet the entire you talked to him, knowing that I was watching you. Knowing that I wanted nothing more than to take you over the side of the couch right in front of Seungcheol and make watch, make him watch as I fuck your cunt until tears pour from your pretty eyes.”

Slowly, tauntingly, Jeonghan’s fingers dipped inside of your pussy. Not enough to do anything other than to gather your wetness but it still had you gasping, arching up into him. 

Jeonghan removed his hand, raising it up to the light. “So wet. I bet you’re soaking the bed right now.”

Jeonghan shifted, bringing his hand to his mouth. You couldn’t help but turn your head and watch as his lips closed around his digits, as his cheeks hollowed out and he drank in your pussy juice. 

He released his fingers from his mouth with a pop, licking his lips as if he had just tasted the nectar of the gods instead of your cunt. “Fuck. I could taste your cunt all day.”

His hand returned to your pussy, fingers tracing over your folds. You spread your legs involuntarily, subconsciously hoping he would take pity on you and shove his fingers in. Jeonghan tilted his head, and you could feel his hair brush against your bare shoulder. “What’s this? Eager, aren’t we?”

You nodded. “Please,” you whispered, eyeing him in the mirror. “Please, Jeonghan.”

He laughed against you, burying his face into your shoulder. Jeonghan pressed a kiss into the skin there, his lips brushing against your skin as you spoke. “Please what, darling? You have to use your words.”

“Your fingers,” you stuttered, canting your hips up. “Please use your fingers on me.”

Jeonghan settled his chin on your shoulder, pouting at you from over your shoulder. “Hm. But you have to say my name.”

Your eyes moved to his hand, zeroing in on the movement. “Jeonghan.”

He tsked, and you both watched and felt as his finger tapped against your cunt. If you had more of a presence of mind you would be ashamed about how eagerly your hips sought out his fingers, about how your cunt gushed fluid and about how desperately you needed him. 

Because you needed him. You needed Jeonghan. You needed his fingers inside of you, needed them arrowing against your core, needed them fucking your pussy. You needed to feel his cock buried to the hilt inside of you, needed him to make you feel full. You needed his mouth on your skin, needed him wrapped around you. 

Before Jeonghan, you never knew what it meant to want. You wanted to eat, wanted a million dollars. But you never knew what it meant to want something carnally, not to this degree, not to where you were willing to do absolutely anything if it meant he would fuck you. 

“Again, sweet one,” he murmured, voice like silk in your ear. He always had a beautiful voice, even when he was telling lies. But somehow Jeonghan’s voice seemed even more enchanting like this, in your ear and whispering dirty commands. “Say my name again.”

“Yoon Jeonghan,” you said, as clear as glass. 

As soon as his name left your lips he was dipping two of his fingers inside of your cunt. A loud gasp left you, your head tilting back against him and eyes fluttering shut. It felt so good. It felt as if this was what you had been missing all your life, as if his two fingers were the oxygen you needed to breathe, as if he could provide the key to Heaven with just his two fucking fingers --

And then he was arubtly pulling them from you, leaving your hole clenching and hungry. You cried out, curling against him, powerless. “Jeonghan!”

“I said,” he began, voice just as smooth as before and yet carrying sternness that had you stilling against him, “to keep your eyes on the mirror.”

 You turned back to face the mirror, chest heaving. You looked pathetic. Your mouth was wide, your legs spread, pussy bared for the whole world to see. 

“Take your eyes off the mirror again and you’ll be left like this,” he warned, the hand on your hip squeezing harshly. “I’m serious. I want your eyes on the mirror until I tell you to take them off. Or are you such a desperate slut that you can’t even do that? Should I call Seungcheol, then? Have him come and fuck you?”

You shook your head, eyes on the mirror like he said. “No. No, Jeonghan, please. I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Good,” he said, rubbing your hip. His fingers smoothed over your cunt, petting it. “I don’t want to have to leave you all desperate on the bed, little dove. You know that if you’re suffering, I’m suffering.”

If you had more presence of mind, you’d be scoffing at his words, able to pick apart the apathy in them. But as it was, your mind was intent on one thing. 

“I’ll be good,” you repeated. “I’ll be good, Jeonghan.”

He shot you a smile in the mirror. “See? It isn’t hard, is it?”

Jeonghan’s fingers sunk into you slowly, the drag of them against your walls making your toes curl. You watched, captivated, with how your cunt seemingly devoured his fingers, as they slowly disappeared from your sight in the mirror. 

“God, your cunt really was desperate,” he said, laughing a little. Jeonghan settled his fingers fully inside of you, leaving them there, letting them fill you. “Look at us, Y/n. It’s like we’re meant for each other, don’t you think? Like you were meant to be here, sitting in my lap, my fingers buried to the knuckle in your cunt.

“And can you feel how tightly you grip my fingers?” Jeonghan asked, slowly sliding his fingers from your pussy. Your cunt protested, clenching down on his digits. You couldn’t help but whine, a high thing that pierced through the bedroom. He held his fingers up in front of you, spreading them. Strings of your juices hung from his fingers, dripping down over the ridges of his digits and down his hand, traveling to his arm. He pressed a kiss to your ear. “And look at this, dove. Look at how you’re dripping down my hand. You’re absolutely soaked. I bet I could slide my cock right inside of your cunt.”

You let out a long, shuddering breath. Your hands went to his hips, reaching back and squeezing. Shifting, you relaxed back against him, offering your cunt. “Jeonghan, please.”

He kissed your ear again, murmuring softly. “That’s right, my darling dove. Jeonghan. It’s Jeonghan who makes you this wet, it’s Jeonghan who gets you.”

You watched as he settled his hand against your side, the stickiness of your slick wetting your skin. Jeonghan slowly slid his hand down over your skin, the stimulation causing your skin to pebble and your toes to curl against his calf. You clenched when his hand made it to your groin, watching in the mirror as his long fingers neared your cunt. 

“How needy,” he commented. “What a needy slut.”

Jeonghan dipped his fingers between your pussy lips, taunting. He let them drag against your clit, brush against your hole. He did nothing other than gather your juices, petting your bare cunt. 

“Please,” you whispered, brow furrowing in desperation. You could see how your stomach heaved from you fighting to catch your breath, trying to steady yourself from the onslaught of torture brought on by your boyfriend. Your thighs were shaking, tightening and releasing with every brush of his fingers. 

“Fine,” he sighed, as if he was being burdened. “I guess I’ll give you my hand.”

Then his fingers were shoving inside of you, all at once. You yelled out, arching back against him, fighting to keep your eyes on your trembling figure in the mirror. Your cunt quivered around his fingers, sucking them in deeper. Jeonghan complied, his smile pressed against your neck as he angled his fingers to reach further inside of you, easily finding that spot in you that had you moaning, thighs hurriedly shutting in an attempt to trap his hand. 

“Fuck,” Jeonghan mumbled. Your eyes went to him in the mirror. His eyes were huge and dark, stuck on the spot where his hand disappeared into your cunt. 

He untucked his thumb from his hand, setting it on the lip of your pussy. He swiped his thumb against you for a moment, hooking his fingers into you and striking your core. 

The sounds made by your cunt were so lewd that you, if you, again, had the presence of mind, would be ashamed. 

Then Jeonghan was moving his thumb, wedging it into your cunt and underneath your hood. He shoved it meanly on your clit before launching a hurried attack against it, his fingers slamming that spot inside of you in time with his thumb. 

Within moments you were sobbing, tilting your head back against his shoulder. Your orgasm tore through you suddenly, causing tears to streak from your eyes and more fluid to gush from your cunt. You couldn’t do anything but cry through it, helpless as Jeonghan’s hand continued to work at your pussy, his voice filling your fogged mind with sweet little murmurs of affirmation. 

Your heart was beating so loudly that you could barely hear Jeonghan, feeling as though your heart were about to leap from your chest and sprint off. Looking in the mirror you could see the way your chest heaved in an attempt to breathe, the way your entire body sagged against Jeonghan as his hand continually worked within you. 

Finally you shook your head, whining. “Hannie, Hannie.”

Jeonghan pressed a kiss to your temple. Slowly, gently, he began withdrawing his hand from your cunt. At first your pussy tightened, but ultimately gave up, releasing him. 

He wiped his hand off on the bed, but even then when he settled his arm across your stomach, pressing you close, you could feel the stickiness on his skin from your cunt. Your release leaked from your cunt, your eyes caught on the mirror as you watched the fluid make its way down your crevice, dripping onto the bed. 

Your eyes flicked up in the mirror, locking on his. Jeonghan gave a small, inquisitive tilt of his head. 

You nodded back. 

Jeonghan pressed another kiss to your face, his hands tightening their grip on your hips. Then he was lifting you up and shoving you off onto the bed beside him, a loud gasp of surprise escaping you. 

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet,” he said, standing up off of the bed. Jeonghan’s hand went to his cock, hissing slightly as he began rubbing at it. “Lay across the width of the bed. Head towards the mirror.”

He rounded the bed as you did as he said, moving slowly, your entire body protesting. Your cunt was fluttering weakly, intrigued by him but so, so sensitive from the two orgasms. 

Jeonghan crawled onto the bed with his knees, looming behind you. He shoved your thighs apart, baring your cunt to him once again. You couldn’t help but bury your face into the blanket, muffling the groan that left you. 

Then there was an acute sting of pain in your ass, and you immediately were clenching up. You raised your head, this time witnessing Jeonghan’s hand descend through the air and slap your ass. 

Pain and heat exploded through you at the contact, and you couldn’t help but weakly curl up in an attempt to move away from him. Jeonghan quickly caught you, both of his hands going to your calves and yanking you flat onto the bed. 

“Where do you think you’re going, little dove?” The nickname, which was always filled with such sweetness and love, seemed to hold none of it. Instead it felt cold, taunting, something used to diminish you. Jeonghan’s hands then went to your hips, lifting them up and off the bed, presenting you for him. “I said to keep your eyes on the mirror, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” you stuttered out, breathless. You watched in the mirror as Jeonghan straightened. One of his hands began kneading at your ass, aggravating the stinging sensation left from his spanking. His other hand disappeared, obscured by your body in the mirror, but you knew he was reaching for his dick. 

“I just need you to hold still like a good little dove,” Jeonghan announced, his eyes looking down between your bodies. “Just need you to be still and let me fuck you like the slut you are, okay? Just be a good tight, warm hole for me.”

You braced your elbows on the bed, getting leverage to help present yourself to him. For a moment you were still, feeling nothing, watching in the mirror as Jeonghan focused on your cunt. 

Then the head of his dick was pressing against your hole, so large and alien compared to the fingers he had prepped you with. You couldn’t help but moan, eyes fighting to stay open. 

Jeonghan slowly breached you, letting you feel every inch of his cock. Your walls stretched around his dick, clenching and fluttering, at odds with how sensitive and overwhelmed your cunt felt from the past two orgasms but how desperate it was to feel his cock. 

“There,” he murmured, smoothing both of his hands over your ass. Jeonghan shifted the last few centimeters, giving you all of his cock. 

You couldn’t help but grind back, a loud sob escaping you. It felt like so much to have him inside. Every single part of your body was honed in on his cock, how it expanded your walls. Your body welcomed the intrusion and fought against it, but in the end you were but Jeonghan’s little dove, caught in his hands. 

Jeonghan moved his grip to your hips, fingernails sinking into your skin. You watched as he moved your hips away, could feel the drag of his cock, which seemed so much more than usual, so much longer and thicker. 

Dumbly you shook your head in protest as he guided his cock out of your cunt. “Hannie, please, please.”

“Quiet,” he commanded, looking at you in the mirror. His black hair was disheveled, his eyes narrowed. You watched as his pale chest heaved with effort to control himself, watched as he brought back his hips. 

Which meant you should’ve been prepared for when he snapped his hips forward, shoving his cock back into the warmth of your cunt. 

But you weren’t. 

You let out a loud shout, falling forward onto the bed. You scrambled against it, trying to straighten yourself and raise back onto your elbows. As soon as you dug your elbows into the bedding, your eyes meeting themselves in the mirror, Jeonghan was withdrawing abruptly from your cunt. 

He set a harsh pace, not allowing your cunt to adjust to his cock further. His fingers dug into your flesh, his cock bullied your core. The loud slaps of his skin hitting yours filled the room, but you could barely hear them over the constant string of moans and sobs that left your throat. 

Your fingers clambered on the sheets, desperate for some kind of grip. Jeonghan refused to let up, the pace burning. You could feel his balls slap against your cunt as he drove into you, his hips jackhammering into you. 

It was frantic, loud, messy. He was a flurry of movement, shoving his cock into you repeatedly. Each thrust filled you to the brim, seemingly reaching all the way to the back of your throat. It was so much, it was so fucking much -- 

“Jeonghan --” You gasped, hips beginning to push back into him. “Feel like -- feel full --”

He said nothing, his face twisted in concentration. Jeonghan’s gasps were quiet, his panting nearly unnoticeable. But you noticed. How could you not? He didn’t light up on his fucking, however out of breath he was, keeping the harsh pace that had your ass already feeling sore. 

“Hannie --” You sobbed, feeling something burning at the corners of your eyes. “Hannie, Hannie, Hannnie --”

Then you felt something gush from your cunt, as if all of your juices had released at once. Immediately you were squealing, falling down flat on the bed. 

Jeonghan cursed loudly, laying down across your back. The change in position had his dick reaching further, had you crying, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and getting in your mouth. 

Then he rammed into your cunt twice more, loud moans pouring from his lips. His released shot into you, the warm fluid squirting deep into your cunt and filling you. Jeonghan came thrice like that, more spurts of cum forcing its way out of his dick and finding home in your warm, abused cunt. 

Jeonghan slumped against your back, one of his hands shooting out to keep your body from falling flat. His chest heaved against you, the arm around you moving down to your cunt. 

“You gotta cum,” he threatened, hand moving to your clit. You sobbed, shaking your head against the blankets. “Yes, you do. You looked away from the mirror, little dove. This is your punishment.”

Your body jumped in his hold as his hand worked your clit, moving sharply and precisely against you. It probably took only a minute to get another orgasm ripping through you, but in your exhausted mind it felt only like a second. 

Then you were collapsing against the bed, his body molding into yours. You panted into the blanket, taking loud, desperate gasps to try and catch your breath. 

Neither of you spoke, fighting to breathe. Jeonghan continued to lay on top of you, his dick still inside of you. When you shifted you could feel his cum ooze from your cunt, and that was enough to get you out of your post-sex haze.

“Jeonghan,” you moaned, reaching back to shove weakly at his hip. Jeonghan groaned into your back. “I’m so wet ‘n sticky. Gotta clean me up.”

“Not my fault,” he mumbled, mouth warm against your skin. “You’re the one that squirted all over me.”

You froze, body clenching, including your cunt. A twinge of discomfort and pain shot through you at this, and you ignored Jeonghan’s little groans of disapproval as you shoved him off of you. 

His dick flopped out of your cunt easily, his cum leaking freely from your hole and mixing with your own release. You slowly, tentatively, reached back to feel the mixture. 

“This is disgusting,” you mumbled, pouting. 

“It’s wonderful,” Jeonghan laughed, his lips pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh. “Can’t believe you squirted.”

“Didn’t know I could,” you returned, brow furrowed. You moved to roll onto your stomach but immediately got met with a sharp pain that shot through you, your muscles protesting. 

Jeonghan’s hands went to your body, stilling you. “Don’t move. You’ll be sore after all that, little dove. I’ll get a wet cloth and be right back.”

You nodded, flopping back down on the bed. You felt the bed shift as Jeonghan got off, the man stumbling a little. You waited for him to round the bed, to make for the bathroom. When he didn’t you shifted, looking over your shoulder.

Jeonghan was staring at your cunt, eyes intent on the spot. 

“Yoon Jeonghan!” You shrieked, kicking out. He laughed, startled from his staring. “Stop that!”

“Can’t help it,” he said, the evil little giggles escaping from his mouth so at odds with the filth that had left him twenty minutes before. “You look so good covered in my cum, sweetheart.”

“Take a picture,” you muttered, sending him a pout. “It’ll last longer.”

Jeonghan looked at you, eyes wide. “Can I? Please? I’ll lock it away and won’t let anyone ever look at it.”

You groaned, turning and pressing your face into the blanket. It was soaked from the combination of your tears and drool. “Fine. But you have to send it to me.”

Jeonghan scrambled around the bed, practically sprinting to get to his jacket. He nearly ripped it from the chair it hung on, hurriedly grabbing his phone. 

You hummed, tapping your foot against the bed as Jeonghan returned. One of his hands went to your thigh, spreading them back out and revealing your thoroughly fucked cunt. You heard his camera shutter go off. 

Then his hand was moving to your cunt. You let out a loud noise from overstimulation as he peeled apart your pussy lips, getting a better shot of the mixture. 

“There,” he said, satisfied. “Absolutely perfect.”

He pressed a kiss to your ass before moving back off the bed. You watched as your boyfriend left the room, admiring the pictures. Your eyes couldn’t help but travel down to his ass, watching it flex as he walked away. 

Jeonghan returned a minute later, a wash rag in one hand. He threw his phone onto the bed, moving back down your body. Gently, as to not further abuse your sore cunt, Jeonghan began cleaning. He carefully spooned his cum from your hole, ran the rag over your cunt. 

The action, no matter how gentle he meant it to be, had your toes curling and your body attempting to wiggle away in protest. Jeonghan hushed you, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your hip. “I’m sorry, baby. But we can’t have you laying in cum all night.”

“I know,” you whined. “Hurts though. I’m sore.”

Jeonghan whined back, and you could see him mimicking your pout from the mirror. “I know. Poor darling, so thoroughly fucked by her boyfriend”

Realization shot through you at his words, quickly followed by mortification. You let out a little cry, digging your head into the blanket. Jeonghan, horrified that he had accidentally hurt you, immediately launched himself down the length of the bed. His hands went to your shoulders, tugging you, chanting your name.

You let Jeonghan move you, eyes wide and horrified. Jeonghan pressed down on you, hands cradling your cheeks and lips brushing over the spot between your brows.”Y/n! Are you okay? Are you hurt? Should we go to the hospital? Do I need to call your mom?”

You shook your head, your hands reaching up to still his face. “Jeonghan,” you began, voice high with hysteria, “how are we ever supposed to face Seungcheol after this?”

[seelestia]

⟡ to set one's self aflame. (do it all for love.)

⎯ how protective are they of you? how do they protect you and how do they like being protected in return? { s for security ノordered by @phantovia! }

RESERVED FOR! ꒰ character ꒱. lyney ft. gn!reader. { 1.5k words wc }

FLAVOR! ꒰ genre ꒱. fluff & sprinkles of lore angst, established relationship.

TOPPINGS! ꒰ tags ꒱. lowkey a character study made poetic (???). mentions of self-destructive habits, also pls don't smile at lyney bcs he's weak in the knees for u.

BAKER’S NOTE! ꒰ thoughts ꒱. thanks for the req, yona! i got to appreciate this silly guy all over again thanks to u ‹3 ik ur acc is already archived so i hope this made for a nice tribute. pls take care of urself & have a good life ahead 🫂

© seelestia on tumblr, june 2024. please do not repost, plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

lyney is protective to a concerning extent. the instinct of an older brother, maybe?

there is some sort of irony to be found in it all since the reason he protects to a 'concerning' extent is out of concern in the first place.

behind his show of brilliance, you consider yourself lucky enough to have witnessed a side to lyney that his audience wouldn't have guessed; that he is a worrier in every aspect of the word. whether for his family, for you, for his friends or for others he comes across that are plagued by misfortune - if all that worry were to come in the shape of dimes, he'd already have an abundance of them to share with the entire nation of fontaine.

but he has no choice, does he?

his background is not a clean slate nor is it a display of sunshine and rainbows resembling his magic shows. lyney's hands are tainted, covered by his gloves as a measly means of self-solace. he has to worry. associating himself deeply and intimately with another is a risk on its own - comparable to dragging someone else down into the murkier depths with him. he can never do that, never has the courage nor the heart to.

(but fortunately for him, you've always been braver than most.)

. . .isn't that why you offered your hand, your trust to him first? he swore to never let you down from that day on.

easier said than done, however.

the house of the hearth operates within the shadows but as for its foes? some also prefer to dwell in the dark and some move in broad daylight. no matter what it is, they all require the same precaution: for him to keep his guard up at all times. every child has been trained by “father” to know that but you're an innocent, tied to this precarious matter merely due to your connection with him.

(“i don't regret anything,” you told him but he didn't look into your eyes, conflicted. you couldn't tell if he believed you or not.)

how was your day? have you eaten? you look sad, did something happen? — all these little questions are a way for him to show that he cares, that you're important, that you're his responsibility and he'll be there for you.

bound by both guilt and love, lyney promises to keep you safe. from whatever kinds of threats there are; whether it be fools with nefarious schemes or even an insect you're too scared to touch, he'll keep you safe all the same. so please, don't hide from him if you're dealing with something. it's better to let him handle it. . . right, correction: the two of you can handle it together.

(truly, his desire to protect can both be his greatest strength and most formidable foe.)

the way lyney protects is through self-sacrifice, granting peace in exchange for destruction of the self.

since the very beginning, lyney has grown used to seeing the world through the lens of a protector.

he recalls the old times where he and lynette loitered the streets in ragged clothes and the only refuge he could provide her with was his hand. it mattered not if he was freezing cold from the rain. . . as long as his little sister was protected, comforted by whatever warmth he had left - it's alright. to do that wasn't an option then, it was a necessity.

to sacrifice himself is a habit. it's easy to adopt but not at all easy to discard.

in lyney's eyes, burdens often seem as if they would be lighter upon his shoulders than they are on another's - but this is only wishful thinking. only meant to convince himself that pain shall eventually lose its harsh bite the more he bears it. “well, has it?” if asked, he cannot give an answer. regardless, that alone is enough of a justification for him because he can't bear the thought of doing anything else; to stand idly by, to be utterly useless.

if he has the means to protect others, why wouldn't he do so? even if he wears himself down to the bone, he’d do it again. akin to a bright flame lit in a hearth, lyney envelopes those near him in a blanket of warmth - and if the blaze threatens to flicker, he'd simply ignite a piece of himself to prevent it from diminishing into futile cinders. he won't let it happen.

(but little does he know that even cinders still serve a purpose. they exist as proof, a sign that his sacrifice has never been in vain.)

in return, lyney feels protected by simply knowing that you're happy (and your acknowledgement of his efforts).

let's call it an innate principle that belongs to a magician; he wants to see smiles on the faces of others. “a smile weighs much lighter for your face to carry compared to a frown, no?” he joked to you once, tapping gently on the corner of his lips with a grin. it was said with a light heart, but you knew he meant it deep down.

(he always does so much, only to ask for so little in return.)

you were not so cruel that you couldn't even grant him that, so you smiled. genuine and grateful. “. . .thank you, lyney,” you said. he fell quiet then. had the wind been knocked out of his lungs or had the world stopped spinning? he thought he saw stars in your eyes, but that couldn't possibly be true. the sun glaring down at him from behind the clouds above remained unmoved.

not like it mattered, anyway. his poor heart was far too occupied with you to care about the answer. “o-oh? you're welcome. . .” lyney blinked, multiple times, dazedly.

gratitude is not a foreign concept to him; he often receives it from an audience member, a lonely elder he briefly chatted with, a fellow member from the house of the hearth — so, just what makes it different now? perhaps, it's because he knows that you've beared witness to his heart that lies deeper within.

that you see right through him, that you're thanking him for who he truly is, although he no longer has a definite image of “self” from the countless white lies piling at his feet like a tower. yet he finds comfort in it, in the way you hold his sullied hands so kindly. he isn't wearing gloves this time. strange, lyney had never imagined transparency to be a feeling so benevolent and cathartic.

no matter what thoughts are buzzing in his head or what ache tugs on his body, they can pester him as much as they'd like - with one swift recall of your smile, lyney feels as if he can banish them even if momentarily. they'll come back sooner or later, he knows, but is it cowardly of him to find solace in that brief respite?

when lynette taps on his cheek to wake him up in the morning, when freminet knocks on his door to deliver something, when other siblings flock around him to welcome him home, or when you come to visit him after a long day — those worries disappear — but even if he already knows that they will make their inevitable return. . . perhaps, everything will be okay.

(it has to be, he tells himself.)

“did something happen yesterday?”

your lunch with a certain feline girl in front of hotel bouffes d'ete kickstarts with a simple question. but the abruptness of it all wipes away the content look on your face and replaces it with a frown.

the tea in your cup reflects your reflection as much as it does your perplexity. lynette lifts her own teacup to her lips, composed while you're lost in thought, confused.

“lyney went home with a wide smile on his face yesterday,” she elaborates, humming either at the tea or at the current matter she's recalling. perhaps, even both but you aren't sure yet. “while this wouldn't be an odd occurrence, i thought there must've been a special occasion to warrant a smile that wide.”

ah. the realization dawns on you in gentle waves. he said something that prompted a smile out of you yesterday — the exchange of a kind “thank you” from your side and a flustered “you're welcome” from his — not that smiling is a rarity around him, hardly, the one thing magicians do best is attract smiles.

your gaze drifts down to stare at nothing in particular. fond memories filled with the face of a familiar magician swims before your eyes. “hm. . . it must've meant a lot more to him than i expected,” you mumble to yourself. in your eyes, you'd think the look on your face represents the paradigm of nostalgia but in lynette's eyes, you look like a madman smiling to yourself so intensely.

“not you too,” she lets out a resigned sigh, placing down her teacup. “smiling to yourself like that. . .” she shakes her head in a disappointed manner, “you and lyney must've been rubbing off on each other these days.”

“maybe a bit too much,” lynette adds, but there is a ghost of a smile on her face this time around.

you can only smile sheepishly.

— thank you for reading! reblogs with comments are most appreciated.

[headkiss]

hellooo for the summer asks I was wondering about our boy Eddie and going to the beach with him and feeling insecure about our body, but ofc he’s a sweetie so he makes us feel better 🥹 just some hurt/comfort my love 🫶

thank u so so much for ur request baby!!! ily i hope this is okay <3 | 0.8k of fluff, tw for problems with body image

The sun beams harshly on your shoulders from your spot on the sand, a towel serving as the only cushion beneath you, eyes squinted behind your sunglasses.

In a rare instance, the group’s schedules have all lined up and given you the same day off, and immediately, that meant packing up Eddie’s van full to the brim with coolers and towels and more people than seats and driving to the beach.

The drive had been a blast, Steve and Eddie arguing steadily over what music to play, Robin egging them on even though she’d dance along to anything. Eddie’s hand had been a comforting weight on your thigh the entire ride.

Now, hours of sun and swims later, hair messy from the wind and water, cooler much emptier than it had been earlier, you’re watching the gang play volleyball (you say this loosely, because there’s no net nor is there an established court).

It’s fun, to be a part of a group of friends this way, to watch such an uncoordinated game where everyone is smiling and having fun despite there being competition involved.

You’re having fun, too, laughing every time Eddie trips or winks at you and says “this one’s for you” before hitting the ball in a random direction. Then, there’s the way Steve calls “mine!” every time the ball comes anywhere near his side of the ‘court,’ even when Robin was even closer, prompting them to start bickering.

So really, it should be all light and easy. A relaxing day at the beach with your favorite people. And it is, until it isn’t.

One second, you’d been smiling at the game, shifting your sunglasses off of your eyes and using them as some sort of headband instead. The next, your eyes were wandering around the beach and noticing everyone else.

Noticing the way the other people around looked. Girls brilliantly tanned in their triangle bikinis, denim shorts fitting them perfectly. Or the guys in their swim trunks and how carefree they look.

You can’t help but see everything they are that you aren’t. Or, that you don’t believe you are.

Things like this creep up on you in funny ways. Like a chill that just passes through, sudden and unavoidable. A simple thought snowballing into a hundred small ones shaped like arrows aiming towards yourself.

You shift to cross your arms over the soft of your exposed stomach, suddenly wishing you’d brought more than a tank top to cover up with.

Eddie snaps you out of your thoughts with a call of “you sure you don’t wanna join, sweetheart?”

You muster a halfhearted smile as you shake your head. “I’m okay.”

The two words are enough to tell Eddie that you aren’t exactly okay at the moment. Your smile not reaching your eyes the way it should, that line between your eyebrows worried the way it shouldn’t.

When you aren’t looking, he signals Argyle over to take his spot in the game and jogs over to you, sitting down next to you and nudging your shoulder with his. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Eds. You didn’t have to stop playing,” you say, though you can't deny that the warmth of his arm brushing yours feels nice.

“Hey, look at me,” he urges you gently, his knuckles catching your chin to nudge your face up to his. “It’s just me. You can say it.”

“It’s silly,” you shrug. Eddie pins you with a look that says ‘try me,’ and because he’s the sweet boyfriend he is and because you trust him and love him, you do. “I just- I looked around and just noticed all these people and the way they look and I’m not-”

“Sweetheart,” he stops you, his voice painfully soft. His brown eyes even more so, shining in the late afternoon sun. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m not just sayin’ that. I mean, you’ve seen the boners you give me, so…”

“Eddie,” you scrunch your nose and slap his chest lightly, though you’re fighting back a smile.

“I’m serious. Look at me compared to these people, babe. I look different, too. I’m not ripped or anything, and I’m pale as fuck. Like, ghost-level.”

You look at him, the frizzy curls framing his face and the curve of his cupid’s bow, to the tattoos dotting his skin and how his abs are just barely visible beneath the soft of his tummy. The way his cheeks and chest are a little pink from the sun. He’s perfect to you. For you.

“I think you’re pretty, Eds.”

“Well I think you’re fucking pretty, too, sweetheart. That’s my point,” his arm slings itself around your shoulders, tugging you into his side, uncaring of the heat or whether or not you’re sweaty. “Different doesn’t mean bad. It just means different. And I love you and your different, okay?”

You like the way he says it, like it’s a fact, like he’s never once thought otherwise. You like the way he trails his fingertips up and down your arm, too, like it’s an instinct.

And, well, when he dips down to kiss you all sweet and slow and sure, you think it’s the prettiest you’ve ever felt.

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #10: MY DARLING, MY COMPANION

(also on spotify!)

It's the Constant Companions Closeups! A series of in-depth dives into the songs off of my latest album, Constant Companions! Last time, we talked about gender with Object of Affection! Today, we've made it to the title track (kinda?)! My Darling, My Companion! Do you think she's figured out what she wants to hear yet

---

Every time I first embark on the process of making another album, I always think I know what the final product will look like. This is a fairly recent phenomenon, born of the part of me that thinks that planning things out and being somewhat disciplined in the act of creation will ultimately lead to a better final product. That's fair and all, but it's also genuinely never how things actually shake out, as I almost always toss that out the window and just start writing shit the first chance I get.

Constant Companions, however, is the closest I've gotten to actually following through on those initial ambitions. Well, maybe not the initial ambitions - without fail, every time I finish an album, there's a two week period where I start writing new material thinking "this next album's gonna be the MOODY one" and it's never the moody one - but rather the plan I developed once my pile of works-in-progress started looking album-shaped.

There's always been some amount of self-referential leitmotif-loving song-series energy in what I've written - Imaginary, Effervescent and Secret Girlfriend; sampling myself on Too Much Autotune or Second Hello; that little four note motif. I had been leaning even further into it with People Posture Play Pretend and 🤼‍♀️, bringing the little interconnected background radiation straight to the forefront, and I wanted to keep going.

So, I would take that mindset and write about motifs - the things that have stuck with me and gotten me to where I am - the hopes that I've clung to, the dreams I want to make real, the patterns that I keep finding myself in. The things that haunt me and the things that keep me living.

...

My constant companions, if you will.

wait didn't i already do that bit. what was i talking about when i did that

This might be incredibly obvious if you've already read the Closeup for Breeze Blows, but yes, this is another song about being plural.

Like I said previously, writing these self-directed songs portraying internal conversations has been a very big part of finding peace within myself. Having to confront a part of myself both alien and overly familiar with seemingly a mind of her own is, understandably, scary as shit in countless ways! If nothing else, it feels like sometimes I can't even talk about it out loud without sounding completely gone.

But it's made me realize and really think about something I think most people take for granted, something that feels silly to even say out loud given how obvious it is but that has completely changed my relationship with myself - you are always a part of your own life.

The overwhelming, ceaseless negative self-talk I lived with for however many years never went away because it was a part of me, and no amount of compartmentalizing or boxing-up or repression or anything helped even in the slightest compared to the act of showing her kindness and patience, letting her be a genuine part of me, being a friend to her. Doing so revealed to me a happier, more hopeful part of myself I thought I'd lost forever.

Letting yourself be yourself, and loving yourself for who you are, is the best way to be!

or something. that feels so fucking dr seuss of me to say whatever we're corny here we will Be corny

---

The working title of this song was "Hathaway", inspired entirely by my friend Lexie messaging me one morning about a dream in which I had released a song named as such. Naming and writing songs based on dreams is maybe my most beloved bit at this point, but my girlfriend ultimately convinced me to make the title My Darling, My Companion. Mostly because she (correctly) thought it'd be cooler than just a pure title track.

The verses were written by sampling my own previous demo for a title track, turning it into a call-and-response between me and GUMI, and the chorus was lifted almost word-for-word from another demo of mine using Teto. That second demo was partially inspired by the character Morgan from the visual novel Heart of the Woods - which I mostly bring up because it's just a really good yuri VN that is near and dear to my heart. And also because my friend Teffi voices the character Tara in said VN. And also because I recorded my vocals for this song at her house. And also because the voice that says "me when I'm goated as fuck" right before the second verse is in fact Teffi in the recording booth with me. Yuri runs deep in my veins.

Speaking of which, this song, in my mind, is one dedicated to advancing my agenda of GUMI x Teto, albeit subtly and in a roundabout way.

See, GUMI has always been something of an idealized voice in my other work. The songs of mine she sings historically have always been hopeful, upbeat, expressing some sense of comfort - I Wish That I Could Fall maybe being the only exception, and even then still offering some hope in the end.

On the flipside, there's a part in verse two where my voice is swapped out for Teto for a couple lines. I couldn't really tell you what it is, since it's not in terms of timbre or range, but Kasane Teto - her Synth V voicebank especially, but really all iterations of her - is the vocal synth that feels the most like a stand-in for my own voice. And really, writing with her almost seems to bring out parts of myself that are a bit too honest.

These two juxtaposed against each other made perfect sense. It helps that they have The Color Scheme, too.

Finally, this song is basically just one big reference to my song Destiny, from back in 2018, and it even closes out with lyrics based very directly on its closing refrain. I don't have much else to say on that front - but there's another Jamie Paige song this bears some shared DNA with, and a blatant reference to it is hidden in plain sight right as the bridge transitions to the outro.

Do you know what it is?

That's the post! If you have any questions, feel free to send them my way - I'm planning on doing a big AMA style bonus post after the album's finished!!

Speaking of which, tomorrow, we'll be talking about the eleventh and final track on the album - a simple little song about a computer falling in love... :~)

[yan-lorkai]

Hello! Can I ask for a (Hazbin Hotel) Charlie Morningstar!Reader X Idia/Leona/Malleus?

You can choose any of the three I don't mind! (And if you don't know who charlie or know the show you can just ignore this ^^)

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Ofc I know Charlie <33, I love her and Alastor so much!!! I binge watched the whole thing on the first day of release lol. Hope u enjoy this, darling, wrote both Leona n Idia! :)

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ You are so optimistic and kind, as well as communicative. You are the total opposite of Idia who prefers to isolate himself in his room and watch you from afar, at least for now while he gathers enough courage to bathe in your light and presence.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Idia loves your songs and will constantly start humming when he's around you or hesitantly sing to express himself, just like you like to do. It's a little strange for him but he gets used to it quickly, not caring if his voice misses the right tone.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He knows about your powers and studies them meticulously, keeping all information about them in his mind for the hypothetical case he has to fight you one day. He would hate to do that, however if he is going to fight you he will fight to win.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He loves your horns and he likes to trace them with his fingers, to feel their hardness and texture. If you let him, Idia would love to decorate them with flowers and bows.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ It doesn't matter what you are or who your parents are, Idia loves you enough to not care if you are literally royalty from hell. What's more, he supports your idea of ​​reforming sins, listening to your ideas and offering tips on how to improve them.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ On days of extermination, he prays for your safety. If possible he will drag you out of hell and into twisted wonderland, where he can care for and protect you without a shadow of a doubt.

⠀⠀

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Leona finds you annoying at first glance. He just wants to take a nap, but here you are babbling about sinners, a hotel, your friends, your dreams, humming and singing and daydreaming. It's terribly irritating, but intriguing. Even though you make him lose sleep, he is attracted to your optimism, he needs a little hope and kindness, even if he doesn't realize it or say it out loud.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He also doesn't care if your father is Lucifer and your mother is Lilith, if you are a demon or hell royalty, as long as you come and cuddle him a little, he doesn't care at all. This doesn't change his feelings for you, not even a little. You're so loveable and friendly that he can't find in himself to mind your differences.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Also loves your horns, the shape of them, the texture, he likes to touch them and he let you touch his fluffy ears too. Only in private though, because he has an image to maintain but he melts in your touch everytime, even if you kissed every inch of his skin and played with his arms in public he couldn't get angry at you. He don't have the strength to. But please don't do it in public 🥺

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Won't sing with you but he 100% hums even if he deny it. Loves hearing you sing though, be in a loud tone or hushed, he finds great comfort in it, could listen to you singing forever.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He may be the second prince but he has resources to protect you during the extermination day if you want to hide - highly unlikely because your every proud of your status and love to help your people. So Leona prefers to fight at your side. How did he go to hell? Man, I dunno but he went there to help you and to fight with you, to protect you and your dreams. And you aren't getting hurt with how closely he watches over you.

[beefboyandbabygirl]

Good Luck, Fermata Tower (18+)

pairing: fire-lookout!seungcheol x female!fire-lookout!reader

genre: firewatch au LMAO, smut (MDNI), soo much angst, COMFORT, fluff

description: after the death of your roommate you have to find a greater purpose to life. what better way than to became a fire lookout with a surprisingly charismatic neighbour tower?

warnings: this fic is a lot, please read ALL warnings. SUICIDE, implied suicidal thoughts, major character death 2x, reader goes through grief, so does seungcheol, AGE GAP, RADIO SEX??? LMAOOO, dirty talk, petnames, cockwarming, pentrative sex, strength kink, f. and m. masturbation (mutual?), PINING TO THE HIGHEST DEGREE, MENTIONS OF DOING DRUGS/DOING SHROOMS, talks of drowning, if u know the game i think you'll be able to visualize the beauty of this way more, intensive writing on the scenery and the emotions, LMK IF I FORGOT ANYTHING PLEASe

quotes from babygirl (@joshibambi): "im getting out lana", "im just gonna be making animal sounds", "can we make this into a play so i can perform this?", "OF ALL THE THINGS THAT COULD MAKE ME CRY IT WAS THE DESCRIPTION OF HIS HOT ASS FACE"

wordcount: 13.9k

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY SEUNGCHEOL. i love this fic. the writing is a little novelly for a fic, but i was so passionate ab this whole firewatch thing and i got SO INTO the arcs and their personal losses and i just really love yn and seungcheol. i hope this was worth the wait and i apologize for not finishing sooner. all my love, beefboy

You and Mingyu meet at college at some parkour club that you’d both joined to make friends. You face-plant into the pavement and knock out a tooth and Mingyu takes you to a nearby hospital. You click instantly. 

You and Mingyu spend every moment together - you help him and he helps you. Mingyu is smart, you realize. He knows all the formulas in your mathematics course by heart. You tell him he’s smart and he says that no one else seems to think that.

You and Mingyu are best friends. You have matching necklaces that complete a heart. 

You and Mingyu party together and when you get too drunk, he carries you down the halls, home. Sometimes at night he sleeps in your bed. 

Your friend group thinks you’re dating, but you think you and Mingyu are something much more earnest than lovers. You think Mingyu is your soulmate. 

You piggy-back ride Mingyu at graduation and you give him a peck on the cheek when he shakes hands with the dean. 

You and Mingyu become roommates. You binge-watch terrible movies together and hold drinking games. It’s hard to admit some of your favorite memories are from watching the Alvin and The Chipmunks trilogy. 

The night before it happens you and Mingyu eat dinner together that he cooked. You see his snaggletooth every time he smiles. 

You’d almost lived together for two years that morning. He usually wakes earlier than you, but he is nowhere to be seen. The apartment is oddly still. You feel trapped. 

You enter Mingyu’s room.

You think he’s asleep. You leave him alone. 

Two hours later you grow worried. You enter his room to find him in the same position. You shake him. Mingyu doesn’t wake. 

The doctors say a case like Mingyu’s is extremely rare - he was in great shape. You’re not sure if that’s supposed to make you feel better. 

Mingyu’s funeral is grim. His death is so terrible, says the pastor, because it’s so domestic. You think it’s terrible because he is - was - the brightest, most amazing person to walk the earth. His parents want you to hold a speech, but you can’t find the words. You think you might sob if you go up there. You sob anyway. The flowers form a ring on the floor of the church and your soulmate is dead.

You can’t sleep anymore. You imagine him dying, left arm numb, alone in the dead of night and choking out your name, reaching for the thin wall that separated you. You cry for a whole month. The apartment is cursed so you live with your parents. 

One day, you see an ad for a job in the paper. 

You take it.  _____________________________

“Hello?” 

Static stormed the tower-house when the other end cut off.

“Are you there?” 

Your eyes frantically darted around the cabin. It was no more than a 13 foot rectangle and yet your tired eyes couldn’t find the radio, churning out a gruff voice. 

You’d just arrived, barely turned on the generator to allow light in. It was nighttime. The park’s dips and peaks were veiled in blue; the silhouettes of the trees, forking out in long, thin spikes, were navy and the lake Fermata was the brightest, glittering pearl from the moon above. Stars twinkled knowingly at you. 

There. A flash of yellow in your blurred vision. You picked up the worn, dirty radio in your heavy hand, pressing at its side. 

“Yeah, hi, I’m here,” you breathed out tiredly. You let go of the button and a small bit of static spoke back to you. 

“Y/n?” 

“Mhm.” 

“I’m Seungcheol. I’m in Bay Valley Tower. It’s to the east. Saw your light turn on,” His voice was gruff, laced with sleep. It had a rasp at every vowel, strings of vocal chords straining to spit out the words in between sticky ropes of bile. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said. You had nothing else to say. The flimsy, one person bed beckoned to your tired body. You moved, like a doll, one limb at a time, into its harbor, collapsing into the thin mattress. You laid on your side, moonlight shining in from the window by the door. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, carelessly. Impatient in tone, you imagined he’d probably been through this a hundred times before. “So,” he sighed out, deeply. “What’s your problem?” 

“Hm?” 

There was a shooting star, dancing across the sky in that moment. You watched it, shuffling onto your back with half-closed eyes. Stardust sprinkled from it on the open, empty sky.

“People here are all running from something. So what’s your deal?” 

You sighed, watching the star’s open path. It could go anywhere, you thought. Then you moved your arm, holding the receiver to your mouth. 

“Listen, Seungcheol. I’ve been hiking for two days, so I’m gonna go to bed now, okay? Hopefully you’ve found some manners by the time I wake up,” you mumbled, then let go of the button (it had a harsh, grainy texture for some reason), and laid your hand, radio in it, limply at your side. 

You heard a raspy chuckle from the other end. You had no energy to be angry. 

“Alright, Fermata Tower,” there was a smile in the anonymous man’s voice. 

There was a pause. The sound of the fierce breeze carried whiffs of autumn, as it lulled you to sleep. You had almost fallen into a black, snow-buried slumber when you heard the radio crinkle again: 

“Fermata, do you see that shooting star?” 

You had no energy to respond, radio spewing static in your open hand. Thankfully, Seungcheol seemed understanding.

“That’s good luck. So...”

A moment. You and Seungcheol watched the sky-dancer, apart. 

“Good luck.”  _____________________________

“You’re awake!” 

It was Seungcheol’s voice. Transformed by the orange hues of daytime, he sounded much more alive than the night prior. 

“I can see you sitting at your desk.” 

Indeed you were sitting on your desk - a flimsy wooden thing, which looked like it had come form a yard sale - studying the map of the massive park. There were simple cartoonish figures to indicate stresses of trees and drops in the terrain, and rock quarries and waterfalls and lakes. You’d delicately pointed out your own position with red marker, scribbling ‘me’ by it with a heavy child’s hand.

It was cold - the thin boards did not do much to ward away the heavy wind, hooting creeping in the cracks. It smelled like pine needles and tea, as you’d just boiled a lavender on the kettle. IT sat, heating your fingers where it rested beside them in a mug left behind by the previous firewatchman (it read: “don’t talk to me before I’ve had my coffee”). 

The radio clattered against the wood when you clumsily picked it up. 

“Didn’t know when I signed up for this that I would be dealing with a stalker,” you joked, smiling small when you heard the man on the other end let out a hearty laugh. 

“Hey, don’t go labeling me just yet, kid.”

“Kid?!” you said incredulously, dropping the marker that you had been so diligently using to scribble excellent comments on your map (latest was: “maybe cute bears”). “How old are you?!” 

“I’m 37,” Seungcheol said.

“Oof.” 

“Hey!” 

“I’m kidding!” you laughed, dropping your pen and leaning back in your seat. The view was beautiful. You could see the lake, surrounded by a rippling sea of trees, each top reaching for the sky, like you. “I’m 27, I’m getting up there with you.”

“Just a small decade.”

“I’m mature for my age.” 

Seungcheol chuckled on the other end of the radio. You spun around in your chair (it creaked horribly - it sounded like a pig at the sight of a cleaver) surveying each square of the forest from your windows. You narrowed your eyes, trying to spot his lookout tower. 

“How come you can see me but I can’t see you?” you mumbled, now standing to try and see, but it was drowned out by the sheer volume of pinewood. Seungcheol grumbled on the other end: “I should be East.” 

“Yeah, fuck, I forgot to tell you, I think I dropped my fucking compass on the way here,” you ran a hand through your hair and frown. 

“Uh, shit, you’re gonna have to pick up a new one, bud,” he said and you slumped. “Well, if you’re facing the lake - Fermata Lake, I mean - I should be to your left.” 

You followed his instructions. You faced the lake, then took two loggy steps to face left, then squinted incessantly at the horizon. Not dissimilar to a crowd in Times Square, the trees stood toe to toe all across at every inch you spied. The pines zagged upwards like Giza, and culminated into the biggest mountain in the park, just under the sun. The mountain loomed overhead where you finally spotted the lookout tower, like a monster crouched over its prey. You tried to shake off the thought and focus on the lone, floating tower in the pit of pointy trees.

“I see you, Bay Valley,” you breathed into the radio. 

The tower looked much more lonely from so far away. It was different when you were in it, but with the miles-long stretch between you two, you found it looked so small and feeble. You could make out the light turned on within it, a rectangle of burning orange. The shooting star must’ve crossed directly between your two towers. 

“Attagirl,” Seungcheol smiles. “Do you see me waving?”

“No, what the fuck.” 

“I got binoculars.” 

“Ew, you are a stalker!” 

“It’s for bird-watching!” Seungcheol informed you, offense in his tone. You cackled into the radio. “I like watching birds, thank you very much.” 

“Jeez, can’t believe what this job does to people.” 

“I liked bird-watching before I got this job,” Seungcheol said.

“You’re so white,” you grinned. 

“I’m not even white!” 

You and Seungcheol both laughed, joyous hiccups interrupted by bursts of static and 3 miles of rocky terrain and pine needles. You squint at the sun, traversing and dipping under the jagged hedges of the tree-line. 

Your head lolled over to spot between the desk and doorway, where you’d dropped your orange backpack (a peculiar color, come to think of it - same color as the lifejacket they deploy on airplanes when everything has already gone wrong). Now it was flopped onto its side, zipper ripped open and knick knacks and crumbs at its mouth, spilling onto the floor. 

“Where do I get a new compass?” you asked, looking at a yellowed book sat beside the backpack.

“Uh, shit, gimme a sec,” Seungcheol mumbled, and before his radio cut off, you heard, briefly, the itchy scrambling of papers, and the sound made him seem a lot more real. “We have these, uh, supply boxes scattered around. ‘M readin’ this, uhhh, fuckin’ info-thing.. Should say which of them supposedly has a compass.” 

“Sounds like you really know your stuff.” 

“Get off my ass, Fermata.” 

You heard papers rustle again and a small bump before the radio cut off, as if he put the radio down on the table. You awaited, arms crossed over your pink and gray striped hoodie, and staring at sundown. Orange flooded the sky, as if it were all engulfed in flames and this was really hell. 

“Uhhh, okay, I got it! There’s one down at Eleison Valley? The code is 1-2-3-4. That’s actually the code to all of them.” 

“Secure.”

“Shut up.” 

“Well, I can get some exploring done, at least,” you frown, spying a not-so-casual hike on the dotted surface of your map, when you tangoed back to the table, fiddling with the edge of the paper. 

“Yeah. You should probably do it tomorrow though. Sun’s coming down.” 

“Yeah. Can’t believe I slept that long.” 

“Don’t feel too bad about it, kid. I was knocked out for, like, two days after the hike out here. It’s a miracle you’re already awake.” 

“Thanks, Bay Valley,” you sighed, leaning back in your seat with some strained shuffling. You watched, eyes half-lidded as the sun fully disappeared behind the curtain of the park. Its light still roamed the sky, where it hid. Half dark blue, half red, the sky twinkled at you and your insignificance brilliantly. You tried not to think about how lonely and floaty your lookout tower must look from afar. Everything feels big when it’s close enough. 

“You’re welcome, Fermata.” _____________________________

“You think I could eat any of these mushrooms, BV?” 

“BV?” 

“Bay Valley.”

“Ah,” Seungcheol sighed on his end of the radio. You were trudging through the undergrowth in your new hiking boots, lifesaver-colored backpack on the plates of your back, weight pushing through the fabric of your jacket. “No, I don’t think that would be wise.” 

“Damn it. Was gonna get hella high,” you joked, eyeing another cluster of snow-white mushrooms under the shade of a tree, sloping along a gnarly root. Your crunching steps in the loose dirt came to a halt - there was a dropoff. The cliff cut off like a broken chocolate bar and a sharp rockwall supported it to the next layer of earth. 

The path was snaking down towards the lake. You’d circle around and climb up towards Tri Forks Tower, where eventually the climbing heights would bowl into Eleison Valley - a flower field, supposedly (in the map a little flower icon alerted you of this). 

“If I die from this rockwall, please, tell my family I love them,” you grumbled, fetching an itchy, frayed rope from the depths of your backpack. Squinting at the high sun, pale drops of sweat forming around your forehead, you slung it over the hook. The park was littered with these - rusted old things that were leaning forward from years of heavy hikers’ tugging. This one was particularly bent. 

“You’re so dramatic,” came Seungcheol from the speaker. 

“Am not, man, these rocks are like fucking knives!” 

“Such a drama queen. A real Primadonna.”

You huffed and puffed as you lowered yourself down the cliffside. Your boots pressed flat against the jagged rock, biceps burning as you held yourself up and walked down the side of it. The whole world was with you, sideways, and you would’ve stopped to appreciate it were you not sure you would pass out doing so. 

“Holy shit,” you said to yourself when you were finally on stable ground and not spider-manning the mineral deposits of the park. You put your hands on your hips and squinted at its imposing open jaw. 

“You down yet, Queen B?”

You panted, grimacing, when you tugged the rope hard and it leapt down like a flying snake: “Yeah, I’m down.” 

You continued padding through the forest. The earth was dry and it was summer, but the wind was harsh and it cooled your stovetop-skin as you walked along a rock quarry, Fermata Lake hiding behind the covers of huge, flat bulwark. You listened to the cacophonous call of the forest: rustling leaves and birds. 

“I had a friend - uh, friend of a friend, actually - who, like, got high as fuck off mushrooms and had a bad trip,” you said, mouth to the mic of the radio, as you studied the cover of the leaves. 

“Yeah? What happened?” Seungcheol hummed. 

“She said that, like -- fuck,” you breathed, scrambling over a particularly rocky rock. “She said there was, like, like her house flooded. Like, water just came gushing in and the whole house was, like, underwater suddenly and she.. She thought she was gonna drown. And her fuckin’ kitchen turned into, like, a coral reef or some shit, I don’t know.” 

“Shit,” Seungcheol seemed much more alert now. You heard him put something down on his table (you imagined it was just as shitty as your own). “I didn’t even know that was possible.” 

“It’s fucking crazy. Don’t do drugs, man.” 

You turned past the quarry and was met with the sight of the huge, gaping hole of Fermata Lake. Strangely oval, the lake was flanked on all sides with thick pineland, except for a slight angle where grassy hills turned upwards towards Tri Forks Tower. 

The water was much more green up close. Algae sloshed up the side of the gravel-earth, willing you into the murky depths. 

You stared at it for a while. You thought maybe you could make out someone standing at the bottom of the bowl-shape.

“I’m at Fermata Lake,” you said then, and then started walking again. 

“Good job! And you haven’t even died at a drop off yet,” Seungcheol joked and you laughed. 

“God, you’re such a jerk. I bet you’re fuckin’.. Watching birds right now like a nerd.” 

“Okay, rude-” 

“Why don’t you go outside and be productive?” 

“I’m looking for fires,” Seungcheol snarked back. “The binoculars are multi-use.” 

You let the conversation die down for a bit, focused on the walk. It was peaceful when you let it be, but at times you came to feel like you were being swallowed alive, or like the looming figure of Aluralura Mountain was pressing its boulder-brawn in between your shoulder blades. The air in the forests was thicker, so you stayed persistent in your path, as you climbed up the clearings and spotted Tri Forks in the distance. 

“Hey, uh, Y/n?” 

The sudden intrusion of Seungcheol on the radio had you jolting, dropping the radio into the earth (thankfully it was fine - here the earth was softer and it dipped under your boot and water pressed out from the mull). You bent over and picked it back up. 

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!” you scolded, wiping mud off the yellow plastic of the radio.

“Oh, uh, sorry..” 

It was only then that you noticed a meekness in Seungcheol’s voice. You, of course, had not the furthest idea what he looked like, but he sounded like he was holding a knife behind his back. You furrowed your brows and stared down the radio, as if it would give you answers. There was dirt clamoring the yellow, where your fingers had held on.

“What’s up?” you said and sounded fakely bright. 

“Well, I just-” he cut himself off with a cough, one that reached those stringent, thinning vocal cords and brought back the rasp. “I wanted to apologize. For the other night. I mean, when you came to the tower.” 

You didn’t respond, only furrowed your brow and looked out across the sun-lit moor. There was a deer traversing across the grass. 

“Uhm. Because. I was- I was kinda drunk, uh, when you came, and I know I was kinda pushy about, you know, why you came out here and all that.” 

“OH!” you exclaimed and the noise ended in a laugh. “Please, Seungcheol. Don’t worry about that. It’s fine.” 

“Okay, good,” he mumbled. 

The flower field came into view after climbing a particularly steep hill and it was a flower field - not just cartography myth. 

It was all sunflowers and catmint - a huge, long stretch of purple and yellow splotches, stemming from green, untamed grass - stretching as far as you could see, disappearing into a hill at the far horizon. You were sure the smell of pollen went for miles, flowerdust sprinkling the air in heavy coats. The path you were following split the field in two, a dry, boring gravel streak, but you saw, faded from sunlight, a once deep, now light, ashy brown box at the right side. 

“I found it!” you shrieked into the radio, a newfound strength gearing your legs into a sprint. “Fuck, yes!” 

“Good job, Fermata!” there was a smile in his voice. 

“Thank you!” 

You were also smiling, when you went up to it. It was rectangular and made of planks, held together by a metal loop and a padlock. Like everything else, it was dirty and ravished, and you felt a faint worry at the sight of scratch marks on its side. You clicked in the code: 1-2-3-4. 

The interior of the box was mostly empty. To your horror the first thing you saw was a porn magazine, which you did not dare to touch; then you saw a granola bar, which you did touch and stash away in your backpack, without any regard for how old it may have been; then came the compass, small and cheap metal and pointing out that you were, in fact, facing Northwest.

There was another item in the box. You did not initially see it, as it was taped to the interior of the lid, but when you raised your eyes, you saw it. It was a piece of paper - a note. 

Grimacing, you ripped it off where it was blowing violently in the wind, holding it tight between your fingers and smudging dirt along the untainted white. 

It read: 

‘Hey, Cheol. If you head up the path there’s a family of raccoons! I left this granola bar here so you could feed them! From Jun.’

“Hey, Seungcheol?” you said absently, staring over the blue, scribbled ink, worn out from months of rainwater dripping in through the planks. He hummed on the other end of the line. “There’s a note here for you. From a, uh, Jun?”

“Oh.”

There was a pause that you couldn’t decipher - maybe you could have, had you been there with Seungcheol. Maybe if you could read his face, his body, you could’ve known what it meant. But for now you just stood in the breeze. It was picking up, getting angrier, hurling at your clothes and hair, banishing you from the field. The flowers dangled uselessly. 

“Do you want me to read it to you?” 

Silence. 

“No, not really.” 

“Oh, okay. Uh, who’s- who’s Jun?” 

Silence. 

“The guy who used to work in Fermata Tower. Before you.” 

“Oh.” 

Every second was longer than the last. You wish you knew what it all meant, but you sensed in Seungcheol’s curtness that he was not taking questions currently, and so you looked around the quickly graying sky and the suddenly spiteful wind and folded the note away in your jacket pocket. 

“I’m gonna head back now,” even your voice was rocked by the wind. 

Seungcheol didn’t respond. 

You left Eleison Valley alone.  _____________________________

This was where it was supposed to be - greatness. Not success, but something greater, larger, more alive than you could ever be. You thought you’d find it in the mountains, the valleys, the lakes and the forests and maybe that had been naive of you - to think that nature and earth could give any sort of meaning that death had taken away from you. These shadowed parts only served to make you feel smaller, you realized. The mountains glared at you, the forests swallowed and spat you out. 

You couldn’t sleep. The image of Mingyu’s outstretched hand was back and you could almost see him from your flimsy bed, lying on his back with a tanned hand out for you. You left him alone, just like you always had. 

Burrowed under the veil of your thin blanket, grabbing at it with clumsy hands, you turned your back to Mingyu’s corpse on your floor.

A prickle sauntered up your back. It was that emotion that something was creeping closer, something was out to get you. That you would feel a cool, dead hand on your back and when it would spin you around his face would be there, and he’d look nothing like himself; he’d be pale and purple around the mouth and his eyes would be sunken and dark and all the glitter he possessed - that he used to possess - would be gone and something menacing, like a hungry mountain, would have replaced it. 

You thrashed, suddenly, to look back at the corpse. It was still there. Hadn’t moved an inch. Deja vu. 

Thoughtlessly, desperately, you fumbled for the radio wrapped up the sheets of your bed. Your fingertips found the plastic hardware, and it bounced at your eagerness, before you pulled it along the sheets and up to your mouth. 

“Seungcheol?” you gasped. 

When did you start crying? You decided you must’ve been crying all night and maybe you’d cried so much that your brain had stopped registering the feeling of wet tears. 

There was a pause. A long one. So long, you started to really become aware of the cries of the wind, the patter of the rain and the endless mumbling of the trees (and the gargled, bubbling blood rising from Imaginary Friend Mingyu’s half-open mouth). Then static spoke back to you: 

“Yeah?” his voice was so raspy, you registered that you must’ve awoken him from his sleep, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your nails dug into the radio and you pressed it into your chest, holding on tight. 

“I can’t sleep,” you whispered, words full of shaky air. There was another pause and for a second you feared that Seungcheol might’ve gotten angry and gone back to bed. But he spoke again.

“Are you okay?” You heard rustling on his end, and you imagined him standing up from the bed, looking out at your lonely island of a lookout tower. “Do I need to trek over there?” 

“No!- no, I couldn’t ask you to do that,” you protested, then trailed off. 

“... Are you crying?” 

You squeezed your eyes shut: “I just- d’you remember what I said? About my- my friend’s friend who- who had a bad mushroom trip?” 

“Uh, yeah, I remember. Her- Her house flooded, right?” Seungcheol’s voice was tainted with thorough confusion, but not annoyance. Never annoyance. 

“Well, I just-” you sputtered and sighed. You almost wanted to stop talking and give up when Seungcheol stayed quiet on his end and drew the words forward: “It’s so stupid. Sometimes I just- I just feel like that. Like you’re drowning, everywhere you go. You know?” 

Your voice was stringent with nervousness, and you picked at your nail, wrapped around the radio in the shallow dark. 

“It’s not stupid, sweetheart,” he mumbled. It was amazing to you how gruff and tough Seungcheol turned soothing and caring so fast. The nickname felt like a warm hug, and you almost didn’t register the sound of fabric rustling once more. “I’m coming over.”

“N-No!” you gasped sharply. Your eyes flickered down. Mingyu watched from the floor, eyes glazed over from death. He smelled foul.

“Can you.. Can you just- talk to me?” you whispered helplessly, and Seungcheol quieted down, seemingly weighing your proposal. 

“Okay. Okay, sweetheart, I’ll talk to you,” Seungcheol whispered soothingly, and for God’s sake, you didn’t even know what he looked like, but the rasp in his voice, and the comfort and warmth that sung out the speaker of the radio had your heart clenching in your chest. “What do you wanna talk about?” 

“Um, I don’t know,” you sniffled. Seungcheol only softened his voice and sat, awake in the middle of the night, comforting you.

“Can I tell you about birds?” 

He told you about birds for 45 minutes before you fell asleep (something he had predicted would happen); he told you about how pheasants are known for their striking colors and how they have excellent eyesight; he told you how he saw a nightjar just before going to bed that night, and how they’re incredibly hard to spot; he told you about Barrow’s Goldeneyes, and how they’re the funniest little guys, and he loves them, because they glow purple in the sunlight; he told you about g…

Oh. You must’ve started dozing off.  _____________________________

You weren’t sure when it changed, but at some point you looked out the window, and the mountain looked a lot more like yourself. 

You were getting better, happier, you were waking up with more energy, you were bubblier. You weren’t entirely sure you could blame it on the park though. For two months you’d had your job and for about two months, every once in a while, you’d radioed Seungcheol at night, and without any question, he’d tell you about birds. 

It sounded stupid the more you thought about it, but his voice lulled you into a comfortable sleep even on Mingyu’s most insistent nights. 

You’d wake up and patrol your area, then you’d settle back in for a couple of hours, watching out for fire hazards and guests in the park, before you’d patrol one more time. Then you’d go to bed. 

This was not the type of job you took to make friends, but somehow Seungcheol had become the reason you woke up everyday. Everyday you looked forward to walking through the woods with his voice on your radio, and you looked forward to making him laugh and him making you laugh. 

“Seungcheol, I’ve got eyes on what I’m pretty sure is a Red-breasted Merganser, come in.” 

This morning you were up extraordinarily early - for you, that is. You weren’t certain what exactly prompted this early rise (maybe you were finally sleeping right thanks to a certain rough-throated man?), but nonetheless you’d enjoyed the view of dawn along the undergrowth and had eaten half-warm oatmeal in bed with an open book. Now you were bored and craving the attention of your only forest-companion. 

Seungcheol didn’t respond like you were expecting though. When the radio crinkled in response, you heard him panting on the other end and thumps, like he was picking it up off the floor. 

“That’s… That’s great, Fermata. I’ve gotta get my.. My binoculars out,” he heaved for air and fumbled clumsily with the sensitive mic. You cringed at the sound. 

“What are you doing? Why are you so out of breath?” you asked. A twinge of worry slipped out in your tone. Was he okay? 

“I’m, uh, working out,” Seungcheol chuckled, and he seemed to finally regain composure, clearing his throat sheepishly. “You’re not usually awake to hear it.” 

“You work out every day?” 

“Sure do - gotta be prepared to knock out a grizzly,” he grunted. 

You leaned back in your seat, a less than amused expression on your face, because a twirling strand of fire danced up your chest and settled into your cheeks. Why was it suddenly so hot? Fire spread across your nerve endings and twinged you red in the apples of your cheeks. You ran your hands over your face to soothe the sizzling.

This was ridiculous, you thought. Seungcheol was not making you blush. You didn’t even know what he looked like! He might as well have had an eye patch and a mohawk. But even as you halfheartedly scrutinized yourself, your thoughts clouded over the idea of sweet, attentive, raspy Seungcheol with big arms and thighs and a sculpted chest and-

“Are you- are you, like, buff?” 

The question left your lips before you could stop it. Your voice broke halfway through the sentence and you let go of the button with an embarrassed hiss, like a kettle huffing out air. The embarrassment, that was potent and squeezing at your chest, worsened when you heard Seungcheol’s throaty chuckle on the other end, limp and dry. 

“You’re curious today, aren’t you?” he mused then, smirk clear from the tone and pronunciation of the words, and you squeezed your eyes shut because why was his voice and the thought of him and the warmth coming through the radio speaker suddenly bothering you so much?

The truth was you hadn’t masturbated in months. With everything going on, you simply hadn’t felt the urge or the want. But, it occurred to you, now that you were slowly becoming a functioning human once more, the urge was returning hot and fast in your core, and, of course, your only companion with the raspy voice and the attentive words and the apparently muscly body was bringing forth this urge with ease. 

You pressed down the urge, taking a deep breath before you pressed the button once more. You were not going to masturbate to the thought of Seungcheol - not Seungcheol who you only knew by voice, who had been nothing but caring and sweet to you. You could not corrupt the preciousness of your companionship with your lewd, depraved thoughts. 

“I’m just curious what you look like. Unlike you, stalker, I don’t have binoculars!” That sounded a lot more like the you that had not just gotten wet at the thought of Seungcheol’s bulging muscles. 

“Hey! The power of the binoculars is limited. I can only really see your silhouette, nothing fancy,” he defended and then right as you were about to respond, he knocked the wind out of you again: “And yes, I’m pretty buff, if I do say so myself.”

Ugh. 

You went the rounds that day and got through another day without having to complete fire protocol, ending out the evening with a pack of instant noodles your family had so graciously sent you (Seungcheol scolded you: “That has no nutrients!”). However each step through the forest and each slurp of noodles and page of your book was plagued by the latent fire inside you. A burning occupied your abdomen fueled by the echoing morning voice of Bay Valley Tower. 

By nightfall you gave in. You were only a girl. This didn’t have to change anything, you thought, as the park turned plum purple. You settled into bed in your pajamas, sitting upright against the frail wood wall and letting your hair bunch on the rattling plate of glass. Your eyes moved to and fro, bouncing over the now lived-in cabin and taking in the dark void of the farest corner. 

Briefly, you fiddled with your radio in your palm. You could call Seungcheol and- wait, why would you do that? No, no. You packed away that wicked thought - it only served to make you feel more guilty. No, instead you slid down the wall to lay in your pillow, now positive you were alone. 

An owl hooted outside and you slipped your hand into your underwear. 

It was surprisingly easy to surrender your consciousness to the lust (and you had, God bless your soul, stayed wet throughout the entire day). It clouded you over, as you began rubbing up and down your pussy, ghosting over your clit to dip down to your glazed slit. Your eyes squeezed shut and you conjured your best doll-replica of Seungcheol.

In your dream he was a faceless mist, but he had a carved upper body, and from the fog surrounding his head spewed his voice - dripping in warmth and comfort, as you imagined it was his toned arm reaching between your legs and pumping into you.

Your other hand snaked down to your clit, where your hips canted off the bed. In the whirl of thrusting into yourself and rubbing tight circles in your clit, you realized, lip bitten raw under your prying teeth, that there was no reason to hold back your moans. It was only forest and wasteland for miles - and surely Seungcheol would not hear you in his floating snow globe. 

“A-ah, Seungcheol,” you wantonly murmured, burying your head in your pillow and sighing lazily. A flush had crept up your neck, where your chest expanded to allow for air. The pleasure was immense - probably more intense, since it had been quite a while - warmth spreading in your lower stomach and culminating at your throbbing clit. Recklessly, you moaned and thrashed as you fucked yourself on your fingers, hiking towards your orgasm. “Seungcheoool-”

“Y/n?” 

You froze. 

Maybe you’d imagined it. Still, your fingers were stopped in their tracks, simply resting on the warmth of your folds, itching to continue. You sat up in bed and tried to ward away the creeping panic. Your heart began to gallop to the beat of a siren. 

The air had been starched when you finally pulled your hand out of your underwear, hot cheeks and glistening hands all over, when you began searching for the radio.

“Y/n, are you okay?” 

You had your back hunched over the edge of the bed, searching for the little yellow receiver, when his voice came again in a thick forest of static. You snapped your head to under your comforter, where the noise was slightly muffled. 

In a blurred panic, you threw the comforter off of you and spotted the small radio by your calf, and you scrambled to pick it up. When the dirty plastic touched your cheek, you stopped, sighed a shaky, hot breath, and closed your eyes. 

“Yeah, I’m, uh, I’m fine. What’s up?” you let go of the button and cringed at your own disheveledness, the breath and shake in your voice. You pressed your forehead radio-front in a silent prayer. 

There was a hesitance to Seungcheol when he spoke next: “... You were calling for me, you sounded in pain?” 

This was certainly the worst thing he could’ve said. You would’ve rather he told you he spotted a bear at the foot of your tower, trying to eat you! You must’ve accidentally kicked the radio and hit the button, you decide, and you damn yourself for keeping it in the bed - of course, shit like this would happen!

“I was…-” (If only you were a better liar), “- pranking you…” 

Seungcheol huffed out in amusement on the other end and you wanted to jump off the railing to the lookout tower and break your neck. “You were pranking me?” 

You gulped with a decidedly dry mouth. “It was a bear attack prank.” 

Seungcheol was smiling: “Yeah?” 

You were not: “Yeah.” 

There was an entropic silence, where you thoughts came rambled and pleading in your head: Please, just let this go, please, just let this go, let’s pretend it never happened, let’s-

“You wanna know what I think you were doing?” 

Seungcheol’s voice had dropped an octave. The smile in his voice was gone and there was something menacing and commanding about him now. In the moment, overcome with a cocktail of guilt and shame, you could not discern if this was anger or lust - the first seemed fitting. 

“I think you were fucking your little fingers thinkin’ about me,” he hummed and in response you whined and squeezed your eyes shut. The shame encapsulated you. “Shh, shh, calm down, I’m not mad, honey.” 

Blinking through rapidly forming tears, you opened your eyes to stare, dumbfounded, at the radio (as if it were Seungcheol and you were not several miles apart). “Really?” 

“Not mad at all. Jus’ think you should’ve told me if you wanted my help,” he tutted on his end and, God, he was so nurturing and comforting and he knew it, and it was so sexy. Your pussy, which had vaguely throbbed from the negligence throughout, was now screaming for your attention, hole clenching sadly around nothing. 

“I thought you wouldn’t want-” 

“You’re crying again, baby,” he must’ve noted from the hoarseness of your voice and the sniffles that accompanied every syllable. 

“Just want you so bad,” you sobbed, now shamelessly slipping your hand back into your underwear and sighing dazedly in relief when you touched it again. 

“Need Seungcheol to take care of you, huh?” The smile in his voice was back. 

“Yeah.” 

“Bet you don’t want me talking about birds now, hm?” he chuckled (at his own joke), voice low and raspy. “Are you touching that pretty pussy?” 

“Mhmm,” you responded lazily, floating high on the sound of his voice and jolts of electricity they sent as you worked up a pace on your clit once more. The pain of the interruption ebbed away. 

“Good girl, hm?” He knew. “Getting off to the sound of my voice, eh? Don’t even know what I look like.” 

“Hng- k-know you’re b-buff,” you gritted out, voice coming in sharp breaths. Your body moved languidly, back arching off the bed and hair coming out in choppy strands on your pillow. Seungcheol scoffed out a laugh: “Like knowing I could just fold you in half? Fuck you into tomorrow? Hm?” 

You let out a loud, dumb whine of his name. It was a total inability to get over his words; how melodious it was, and yet, how contradictory the smoothness of his words were to the strained nature of his thrumming voice. And the worst of it all was how confident he was - you supposed hearing someone else masturbate to you would be a confidence boost - and how the arrogance swelled out in the most comforting, nurturing way. Each word felt like a hand on your body, like a caress that sent shivers down your spine. 

“Fuck, princess, say my name like that again. Please.” 

“Seungcheol!” you obliged mindlessly, legs shaking on either side of your glistening hand. 

“Shit, I-” he grunted, and you heard a fumbling of fabrics on his end. Your nerves spun in excitement at the thought of him getting hard at your voice. “Can you put two fingers in the pretty pussy - it’ll feel like one of mine, baby.” 

You cried out when your fingers entered yourself, pads of your fingertips rubbing against your walls. Outside of the windows, the park was an empty wasteland of mauve and orchid, and the Fermata lake was brilliantly alive and dipping under the three-quarter-moon. 

“Wish it was your pussy wrapped around my cock right now,” he grunted, and he’d lost breath and composure and if you knew what his face looked like, you would imagine it sweaty and twisted up and a red-lipped ‘o’ letting the jaw slack. 

Resuming your earlier motions (double-handing your own kitty), you felt your orgasm lurking in the pit of your stomach, a tight-wound knot being ripped apart. You were panting into the cool air, creating silver-clouds in your tower-home. “A-ah, want you inside me so bad, Cheol- shit! Gonna- gonna cum-” 

“Yeah? You gonna cum thinking about my cock inside you baby? Thinkin’ about me just bouncing you up and down like my little fuckdoll?” His speech ended in the prettiest moan you’d ever heard, and you imagined every well-defined, flexed muscle under the moonlight and the thought had your whole body jerking and shaking and when you closed your eyes the stars stayed with you, white and glimmering under your eyelid. 

The strangled moans of your orgasm sent Seungcheol over the edge - at least from what you could tell. His dirty talk turned into strings of curses and moans and grunts until the radio went dead, and all you could hear was your own labored breaths and the faraway hooting of a horned owl. 

The silence flatlined the excitement into nervousness. Your lip was almost automatically caught in your teeth and you glanced over the radio beside you through your lashes.

Oh shit. What the fuck had you done?

“Uh, did you-” the smell of sweat shot up as you shuffled in your sheet to grab the radio once more. “Did you, uh, cum?” 

Oh fuck. You just made it way worse.

The silence from the radio was much louder than any response, but when the receiver did finally crinkle with static, the sound of laughter exploded from it.

“Don’t fucking laugh at me, BV,” you scolded, but you were smiling and relief flooded you like water overflows Fermata Lake during heavy downpour. 

“I’m sorry,” he hiccuped on the other end. “It’s just-.. ‘DID YOU CUM?’” 

“Alright, I’m going to bed now. You suck,” you quacked, and even though you were alone you thought to suppress the gentle tugging at your lips into a sharky smile. 

“DID YOU CUM?” 

He sounded pretty when he laughed.  _____________________________

“I can’t believe I have to hike down here to confiscate some fireworks.” 

Your grumble came from the forest beside Fermata Lake. You were walking down a patch of dirt revealed from years’ of trampling feet, dewy sprigs of grass arching into the mud. A group of (presumably) teenagers were firing fireworks down near the edge of your assigned territory. 

“They’re a fire hazard!” Seungcheol squawked obviously, and you huffed in your boots, preparing to climb down a rocky slope. 

“I know that! It’s just everywhere - the website, the signs - don’t use fireworks!” you complained. Seungcheol hummed absently on the other line: “Go teach those suckers a lesson, Fermata!” 

“I will,” you said, agitated. 

“Just don’t fuck with their personal belongings. Last thing we need is a lawsuit. Again.”

“I won’t,” you said, deflated. 

Even in your most angered moments, you could hand yourself over to the gentle forest. No longer were you protruding into a bubble, straining to get through a barrier that was urging you out, but you were absorbed into it, like you were one of its own. 

The forest was lush with pines and brown and green moss painting bark and rocks, and the grass leapt higher than your knees, as you trudged further and further in. 

SWOOOOSH!

A firework propelled into the sky about 100 meters away, and you watched its ignited trails of smoke before it exploded into a fest of sparkling blue and gold. You huffed out in anger at the sight. The sky wasn’t even fully dark - it was merely a muted blue evening. 

“Did you see that?” Seungcheol came from the radio-speaker. 

“Yeah, I’m right with them.” 

As you padded closer the smell of wet pine cones and coltsfoot accompanied the sound of distant voices - indeed, they sounded juvenile. You could make out at least two girls and at least one boy, although their voices were hard to distinguish, the way they echoed in between the grid of trees.

“Hey!” you yelled, as you creeped just close enough. Their voices hushed and you saw their frightened faces lit by handheld, Target-bought flashlights when you peeled back the screen of a bramblebush. They were gathered together amongst a tent, flashlight lighting the plates of the faces ablaze in cool white.

“Cut it out with the fireworks, alright?” you huffed and your anger melted a little when you saw that they were indeed just kids - maybe 19? They seemed to have nothing to say, and so you scanned the beer cans and the scattered backpacks and finally caught sight of a bundle of rockets in the grass. Your brows furrowed, and you picked it up with a sternness. 

“Hey, that’s ours!” one kid chimed, but he made no move to stop you, really, as you trudged angrily back to the bush you had come from. 

“Not as long as you’re in our park, man. It’s a fire hazard.” 

“We’ll take them back home-” 

“Goodnight!” The desperate plea fell on deaf, tired ears. You just wanted to eat dinner, so you disappeared out on a trail of pine needles and valiantly ignored the trail of curses and insults following you. You could care less. 

“I got the fireworks, Seungcheol,” you sighed tiredly and your eyes were dark pits and your face was relaxed, if only to conservative energy. 

“Good job, Fermata.” 

You were not in the talking mood. Maybe Seungcheol could tell by your tone of voice; maybe he could hear it in your sigh; but Seungcheol piped up again: “You know, if you need some energy for the hike back, there’s a supply box - uhh, 52? - if you head upwards instead of towards Fermata Lake.” 

You wanted to be grumpy, you really did, but the thought of a salivating, expired, delicious, out-of-date granola bar had you changing course to the slowly gaining hill of the forest. 

It was weird. This was probably the closest you’d ever been to Seungcheol’s tower. Under the prickly cover of pine some mile in the distance, you could see a glowing square, perched over the treetops by long, wooden pillars, support beams crossing the middle. You couldn’t help but wanna go up to it. There had been an unbearable magnetic pull to his tower ever since that night however long ago. You decided to stay the course for Supply Box 52. 

“I can practically see you from here,” you commented, and the tower was becoming a beacon as the evening mulled darker and darker by the minute. 

“Really? Hang on,” he did not let go of the radio-button, and so you had the pleasure of listening to the ruffling of fabrics and thumps on the floor. “Can you see me flexing in the window?” 

“You’re such a dork,” you laughed, and the sound bounced off the pines and traveled up to the rock of the nearby Aluralura Mountain. “No, I’m not quite that close.” 

“Damn it!” 

“Yeah, it‘s a real shame,” you muttered, smiling, and then you caught sight of the supply box up ahead. The hill flattened out once more (to which you breathed a sigh of relief) and the box was perched on the edge facing the path that began onto the cliffs. This was Seungcheol’s territory - cliff sides and all. “I think I see Supply Box 52.”

“Open that bad boy up.” 

You entered the code, scrolling the mechanisms one by one until the numbers read 1-2-3-4 (you still thought this combination was ridiculous), and when you opened the lid it creaked horribly, worn from the weather. 

The wind was harsh that day, and a note, identical to the one you’d found at Eleison Valley, broke off its tape from the mean pushes of the wind. Instinctively, you grabbed it as it started to fly off, and your hand closed around it and crinkled it under your fingers. You looked at it with knitted brows. 

Wordlessly, you tucked it in between your side and your arm, redirecting your attention to the goodies in the supply box. 52 held a rope and a map and another directory for supply boxes and, to your exhausted delight, a box of grandma-looking caramels. You took the whole thing and stuffed it into your bag. 

As you shuffled, you put the note between your lips, stuffing the plastic container of gold-wrapped, sugary candies in between your rope and your own map and a coat for possible rain. When you zipped it up, the fabric of the bag warped grotesquely to fit the various items you’d brought. 

You pulled the note back out from your lips. A small wet patch of spit lingered on the paper, as you unfolded it. 

It read: 

‘Hey Seungcheol,

If you find this, I gotta go be with my mom now. I’ll miss you forever.

From Jun.’

The wind blew kisses on your back like the presence of a ghost.

“You find anything good?” Seungcheol’s voice peeked through the static of the radio. It had been quiet for a while. You couldn’t take your eyes off the letter. The ink was smudged and slurred. 

“Uh, caramels, actually,” you said, eyes dancing over each slope of ‘forever’. “Like, granny caramels.”

You put the letter away.  _____________________________

A week later and you were looking out of the window at pouring rain. The sky was smothered by a duvet of dark gray clouds, and the rain was coming harder than you’d ever seen. It was like thousands of bullets pelting into the ground and turning it soft and muddy, and the drops hit your roof like the nonstop click of a keyboard. 

"Rainy season, huh?” your mouth was to the radio. 

“Yeah. We’re gonna be staying up all night to watch out for lightning. Fire hazard.” 

“Shit, I should make coffee.” 

“I’m way ahead of you.” 

The lightning came and thunder followed. The sound was enormous and terrifying. It grumbled like a hungry beast and the sound bounced off of every mountain-wall and echoed from all sides. You felt very small, wrapped up in a blanket at your desk, a steaming cup of coffee by your side and your fire extinguisher evacuated from its holder to stand beside you, all red and shiny aluminum and rubber nozzle. 

“Did that look like it hit a tree?” you asked after seeing a zig-zagging bolt of lightning hanging a little too low over the crowns. Your voice was louder than usual - this night was a game of overpowering the screaming rain. It was some 1 AM.

“Uhhhhh, shit. Maybe. We’d see the fire, but it’s possible it’s at the root.” 

“Fuck,” you whispered. “Was that yours or my area?” 

“Uhhhhh-” 

“I’m gonna check it out.” 

Determined, you let the radio fall on the table, as you fumbled for another sweater. The knitted fabric slipped over your other sweater, and then you were wrapping yourself up in your raincoat.

“Maybe I should go - it’s slippery right now, it’s dangerous as fuck. You could fall and hit your head, you know. I think it was closer to me anyway, so--” 

“Seungcheol, I already have my coat on, I’m going!” 

And indeed you were going, despite the grumbled protests of Seungcheol. Your coat blew in the hurricane wind as you stood atop the cliff, looking down at the cascading water, that’d all race down to the sinkhole that was Fermata Lake. Through the clouds, there were no stars to trade glances with, not even ghosts.

You fought headwind the entire way, your hair flowing wildly and your coat threatening to unbutton at the will of the blasts. The ground under your rainboots had become mud and the further you trudged into the forest, the more the mud crept up your yellow shoe, slinging over you like liquid ropes. 

“I’m going down the drop off again!” you were screaming to overpower the wind, radio to your mouth before you dropped it into your pocket and retrieved your bag to regather your rope. 

“Be careful!” Seungcheol commandeered bitterly, muffled from your pocket. “It’s slippery as shit! Radio me immediately when you’re down, so I know you’re okay.” 

Even as your face grew wet and sore from the whipping rain, you scoffed. A gloved hand shoved into your pocket, brought the radio back up to your red lips: “Stop being such a pussy!” 

“Say yes, Y/n!” 

You rolled your eyes. “Aye, aye.”

“... I’ll take that, asshole.” 

Wet as a wipe, you slung your rope over the hook and prepared it in a slew of motions you’d by now memorized. Although, you noted your movements were awkward, somewhat impaired by the layers of fabric that encased you. Stubborn, you stood before the hook, grabbed onto the rope, and began walking backwards. 

Your booted foot curled around the edge of the cliffside, and with the tightened rope you began your careful horizontal walk. Raindrops pelted your face like a clenched fist, but you only blinked away the water and tried to focus on stepping carefully down the side of the rockface. 

KRRRRRRRRKKKKKK!

You screamed girlishly when your rope snapped from the hook, and you watched it come flying out over the ledge, before you realized, horrifically, you were already falling. 

It was barely a second, just one blurry image of the weeping sky, before you were on the ground, groaning in pain. A pulsing ache creeped up your spine, and you twisted your body in the mud to put the weight on your side. You sighed into the mud, dirt on your squished cheek. 

The rain was uncaring of your unfortunate situation, as you laid pathetically in the dirt, body scrunching up like an elastic, while your shadow was cast by sudden bursts of lightning. Panting, you pushed yourself up by your arms and felt blindly for your-

Where was your radio? 

Your pocket was deflated and empty, and you scrambled in the dirt, desperately, pushing yourself up completely to scan the area. You noted how the pain subsided into a small, dwindling soreness, thanking whatever God for your layers of clothing and the softness of the earth. 

There. A flash of yellow in your blurred vision, aided by another strike of lightning atop Aluralura Mountain. You picked up the worn, dirty radio in your heavy hand, pressing at its side. 

“Hello? Seungcheol?” 

There was no static to indicate your message had been relayed, and the usual red digital numbers telling you what channel you were on was gone, a simple, black screen remaining, mirroring your muddied face, twisted in anguish. 

“Fuck this,” you hissed, standing up on two legs. You looked back up to where your lookout tower was still ablaze, a yellow box in the heights. The rope was fucked. You had to go down anyway. Huffing, you started walking. 

You marched through the undergrowth, crossing through unpathed forest to reach the destination. It was near a hollow marked on your map, and so the expedition, although scarier, more empty and dark without Seungcheol's warm voice, was mild. 

Wet petals brushed your face from rows of bushes, and even through your gloves the cold left your fingertips numb. You sniffled in the dark. 

You found the hollow, then you found the tree. There was, indeed, ash going up the side of it, seemingly stemming from a smaller bush in the clearing, but the fire had been long put out by the insistent rain, and partially you felt disappointment that you’d trekked all the way out here, only for there to be no real danger. 

Heavier than ever, you turned your gaze to the glowing hut in the distance. 

You almost wanted to go back to your own hut, to turn your back to Seungcheol’s glowing tower and forget this ever happened. The anticipation of seeing him - of him seeing you - was a tall wall to overcome. But, you realized, not only was his tower closer; you also needed help. 

Your radio was fucked, your rope was fucked and moreover, you needed to be sure you hadn’t done irreparable damage to your back. With water dripping over the ledge of your hood, you began walking towards Seungcheol. 

Rainwater cascaded off the edge of the trees and the consistent dashed dots looked like tiny glass orbs in the light of Bay Valley Tower. It was intensely quiet for a while - it seemed like every bush-tailed critter of the forest had scuttered away to hide from the rain and the echoing growling of the sky. 

“Y/n!” 

You were so tired you almost could’ve missed it. Each layer of fabric weighed you down and the dirt smearing your cheeks and hands and fabrics could’ve melted you right into the earth. But indeed, a voice - so familiar it almost hurt - was calling to you in the dead of night.

“Seungcheol?” your first call was not a call, but a whisper, as you peered into the thick grooves of the forest. Then, your senses returned to you and you screamed as loud as you could: “Seungcheol!” 

“Y/n!”

You and Seungcheol called for each other, syllables echoing off the huge, towering presence Aluralura Mountain. Getting closer and then closer, and then you could see the figure of another raincoated person, shaded by a hood.

“Y/n? Oh, thank God!” He ran to you, swimming in the rubber of his red coat and pink lips peeking over the closed hood. 

It was a little paralyzing. He was so beautiful, you didn’t even know which speck of his shadowed face to look at. Tan, wet skin and big eyes from which the longest, blackest lashes you’d ever seen sprung. Most notable were his fuzzy, blocky eyebrows sitting over his brown eyes, fine wrinkles springing from the corners (you’d like to think you’d helped create some of those). His lips were big and bright and pouty, but it was wiped away when he smiled at the sight of you, and you could die, because a dimple indented itself in his cheek at the motion. 

“Are you okay?” his smile faded when you said nothing, only stared at him, and then stared at where his thick fingers wrapped around your arm. He leaned into you and God, you hadn’t seen him before this very moment, and now he was leaning over you and he was so close and he smelled like pinewood, and you were pretty sure you smelt exactly the same. 

You lowered yourself from your daze, trying to follow the pattering of rain atop both of your hoods. “Uh,” you gulped, finding his eyes, “yeah, I jus’... I thought you were joking when you said you weren’t white.” 

His laugh. His laugh was even prettier in person and it had the same rasp and the same disapproving hint to it that it had had at all your other jokes. “You’re unbelievable, you know that, Fermata?” 

“Bird watching is crazy, man.” 

He smiled and studied your face for a moment, still leaned over you and thoroughly ignoring the rain and the thunder and the dirt on your boots. Then the smile faded, just a little: “What happened to your radio?” 

“Oh- oh my God! Do you- do you remember my first day? The drop off! I fuckin’- fell down, my rope came undone on the hook! My radio was knocked the fuck out, it was crazy, I’m gonna need a new one-”

“Are you okay? You fell?” Seungcheol’s strong eyebrows became furrowed and the sight was so utterly mesmerizing to you. You waved him off: “I’ll be fine, please, I just want to get out of this weather.” 

Seungcheol did not seem to entirely believe you, but nonetheless he grabbed your hand - in his own rough, used one - and started leading you upwards (“If I don’t hold your hand, how can I be sure you don’t fall down another drop off?”).

Time was not as agonizingly slow by his size, and the tower seemed to propel towards you and the hands on your wristwatch seemed to move backwards. Not before long, you were climbing up the stairway with Seungcheol’s iron fist on your wrist, so as to prevent you from falling down something else (you had a feeling that he would not let this go). 

“I’m gonna make us some tea,” grumbled Seungcheol when you arrived.

“Yes, please,” you murmured. Your coat was folded beside you, starry raindrops soaking into a blanket thrown over his bed. 

It was warm in Seungcheol’s tower house - he had half a brain to put an electric heater in the corner of the room, unlike you - and it was only the sudden embrace of warmth that had you looking out into the park and realizing you would have frozen to death if you’d stayed. 

There was a warm glow from a naked bulb in the ceiling (you guessed Seungcheol had put it up himself), an old rug full of sand-corns, and a shelf with various books. Seungcheol also had a small kitchen, a desk and a bed, just like you. The layout was exactly the same, but sitting down on Seungcheol’s bed, you noted he must’ve made some alterations. Your fingers pulled at the white of the mattress - it was his own and it was much softer.  

When the electric kettle (a rusted, iron old thing) was cooking, Seungcheol turned to you sheepishly and unzipped his coat. You waited in secret anticipation for his supposedly smoking-hot bod, but were disappointed to see another sweater underneath it. 

Seungcheol stopped the kettle and took two large mugs from his cupboard. These, he placed on a carved tray (you thought he might have made it himself from pinewood), and then from a small, wooden tea box on his countertop, he produced two bright yellow tea packets, which he gently placed in the mugs. Then he poured in the water, steam traveling up to open his pores and whatnot. 

“Do you want anything in yours?” he asked, not really looking. 

“Uhm. No, no, thank you,” your hands were folded in your lap. 

He only grunted in response and left one tea untouched, then took a clear, plastic container of honey from an array of unrefrigerated condiments, and squirted half the bottle into his tea. He sniffled when he was done, grabbing the tray and turning to you. Tonight, Seungcheol was uncharacteristically nervous.

“Can you-?”

“Hm?”

“That little- little table over there-”

“What?”

“Can you grab it?- For- for the tray?” 

“Oh, yeah, sure.” 

The tea sat on the tray and the tray sat on the foldable table and you and Seungcheol sat before them on the edge of his bed. You took the hefty mug in your hand and took a slurp, looking over at him from the rim. Seungcheol looked at you awkwardly. He did not move for his tea. 

“I should take a look at your back,” he said. 

“What? Why?” you quacked disapprovingly. “You fell on it,” Seungcheol reminded you.

You shook your head silently. “I like your hut. It’s way better than mine.” 

“I’ve been here longer,” Seungcheol shrugged. You looked at him and he seemed displeased - this would not have been a big deal were you speaking to him on the radio, but his aura was much more commanding in person - something about his eyes, you thought. You had to look away, settling on your mug again (there was a cartoon dog on it). 

“I suppose that’s true,” you murmured. Seungcheol stared into the side of your face and his obvious concern for you weighed down at your muscles. 

A gentle pause where rain pattered his roof. 

“Are you okay?” 

You glanced over, nervously: “Tired.” 

He bit his lip: “Maybe I should’ve made coffee... Can we put instant coffee in tea?” 

“Seungcheol, I wanted to ask you something,” you said and put your mug down on the tray again with a small ‘clink’. Seungcheol rubbed his hands over his trouser-clad thighs, nodding, maybe more nervous than you. The warm glow of the bulb made him even prettier and all was warm and dry in the hut, even though rain was falling down in thick curtains just outside by the troughs. “It’s just..” you began, “you’ve been so avoidant about this.. Jun guy..”

Seungcheol’s sigh interrupted you before you could finish: “He was just the guy that worked here before you.” 

“I found another letter.”

Seungcheol’s furrowed expression softened and he looked at you with big, glassy brown eyes, hidden under a waft of choppy bangs. What was that in the shine of his pupil? Fear? Vulnerability? Sadness?

“It was about- it said he was gonna go be with his mother and that- that he would miss you,” you explained and your voice was snotty and throaty, and your eyes averted to a folded napkin beside a half-eaten slice of bread. A fly circulated it hungrily. 

Seungcheol’s lips made a tight line, dimples poking out pathetically. He cleared his throat and you heard the strain in his vocal chords once more (and it was so real because there he was - right beside you). 

“Me and Junhui came here together. We’d just finished college and we didn’t want-.. We didn’t want to be adults yet. Like, an office job, wife and kids,” he began and there was a tremor about Seungcheol tonight. “I don’t think he was made for a job like this though. I think the loneliness got to him.. Think he just lived with it ‘cause he could tell I liked it.” 

You nodded along until he wasn’t speaking anymore. Then a thick silence absorbed the two of you, a patch of moss drowned in the downpour. 

“His mom was dead, so..” he whispered. Tears gathered at his waterline like a string of stars. “So, yeah, he went to.. To be with her.” 

“I’m so sorry, Seungcheol,” you whispered and the echoing whispers of the storm bouncing off the rock faces of Aluralura mountain beckoned your hand onto his woolen sleeve. “I had no idea.” 

“They never found his body, you know? He’s just out there, somewhere,” both you and Seungcheol turned your heads out to the pitch black expanse of the massive park. Your mind wandered to every crook and crevice you’d seen out there, wondering if a dead body had hidden behind a quarry rock. “Fuckin’ terrified I’ll find him one day. Just… Rotten.” 

You didn’t know what to say. What do you say? Even though you’d stood in a similar situation - losing a friend - you couldn’t find anything that could ease his pain, the pain that was now tinting the light blue and dulling the sound of the rain. The whole room was pulsating. Luckily, it seemed Seungcheol had something more to say. You watched his lips pucker as the words tried to leave his tongue, then watched them draw back. 

“He used to.. He used to say this thing. It reminded me so much of what you- you said that night about, uhm, your friend’s friend. He used to say that- that sometimes he’d wake up in the middle of the night and he’d just be.. Totally.. Convinced that he was at the bottom of Fermata Lake and he was drowning,” Seungcheol’s voice broke one too many times and his jaw clenched. “God, I was so worried. Jus’ thought I couldn’t- I couldn’t be the reason that happened again.” 

“I…” A tear slipped down your face and your hand left Seungcheol’s arm to wipe it, furiously.He turned to you pitifully, the broad width of his shoulders hanging low. “I’m sorry- you weren’t meant to feel that way-”

“It’s okay. I wanted to help,” Seungcheol grabbed your hands in his, a deep frown on his lips. 

You stopped the tears, face burning hot and wet when you looked up at him again, calmed. His thumbs stroked over the backs of your hands. The pads were rough and beaten. 

“Y’know it was sort of the same for me,” you said. Seungcheol waited for you to talk patiently and with a small, encouraging smile, as warmth streamed from his hands into yours.

“Yeah, my- uh roommate - best friend - died. And I couldn’t stop thinking about how I found him, like, his hand was just outstretched towards- towards the wall to my room, and he must’ve just lied there while his heart was giving out and I wasn’t there-... And I found him the next morning like that and I thought he was asleep and I left him there. Again. And I just can’t stop seeing him everywhere and for a while I was afraid that he would move, you know, like, start crawling towards me or some shit, but I think now I’m actually more afraid that he’ll never move. I think that’s the joke or whatever, he just won’t move, he’ll just be there the way I left him- and I guess- I guess, I thought I could find some sort of higher purpose out here, but I just can’t.. I feel more as though.. Like, it was these things that took him away from me, these fundamental parts of- existence. Like all the cliffs have evil faces and they want to take me too, and maybe I did want them to take me, but not- not anymore. I don’t know if that makes any sense?” 

You peered up at Seungcheol through your lashes, wet and heavy. He was frowning, hands gripping yours tighter.

“You don’t want them to take you anymore?” he asked quietly. You shook your head. “How so?”

“Honestly, I don’t think it has much to do with me or the park. I think-” you gaze flitted to Seungcheol and he smiled knowingly. You scoffed and smiled too. 

Although you both were fully clothed (Seungcheol annoyingly so), it felt as if all the layers had been stripped away one by one; sweaters and trousers, skin and meat and bones. All there was left were two brightly glowing hearts in front of one another. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered then. “You don’t have to say it.”

You rolled your eyes: “I think it’s because of you.” 

He grinned, wrinkles crinkling the corners of his eyes and cheeks bunching up in shiny, red fat. You poorly suppressed your own grin and the two of you leaned into each other when your eyes hooked, laughing into each other's shoulders.

“You’re so dumb,” you complained, forehead scratching against the stiff, knitted threads in Seungcheol’s shirt. 

“I think- I think we both jus’ get dumber together,” you could feel his smile into your neck and the hot stream of air that bounced against the skin. 

Right as you were about to pull away, Seungcheol’s arms wrapped around your back and pushed you back into him. You giggled at the motion, but with little thought your own arms wrapped around his back too, and your knees clashed where they met. 

“Seungcheol?” your voice was muffled by his neck. His only response was hum, that ruminated from deep in his throat right by your ear. You pulled away until you were staring at his face. 

Each thick stroke of eyebrow hair, each long, black eyelash and each mole dotted on his softly aging skin was crystal clear then. Your hands wrapped around his biceps and felt your heart buzz at their pronounced carvings under the wool. Seungcheol smiled down at you in a sort of adoring way.

“I think-” you began, then felt stupid, then felt idiotic and cowardly. “I don’t know- I think we should kiss now?” 

It came out as more of a question than a statement. 

Seungcheol gravelled a laugh and his eyes became all squinty and he pursed his lips as if it concealed his amusement in any way at how you squirmed beneath him and your face heated up. 

“I think you’re right,” he nodded and you could barely register the feeling of joy that exploded in your chest, before Seungcheol’s pillowy lips crashed into yours at the same instance as a crack of thunder. 

The lightning was a flickering show to the performance of yours and Seungcheol’s passionate kiss. His lips molded to yours and yours to his, warm and chapped and your hands couldn’t help but wrap around the soft planes of his cheeks - to pull him further, to keep him with you. 

Seungcheol grappled for your hips, and you moaned in a sort of discombobulated agreement, as he, with shocking ease, pulled you into his lap. His hands on your body, stroking and pressing into the meat, left a burning ghostly trail behind it. 

“Can I be honest?” you mumbled in between bitten kisses and panted breaths. “You’re hotter than I imagined.” 

Seungcheol smiled into the kiss at that: “You too, baby. Now you get the real thing, hm? After fucking your sweet pussy thinking about me?” 

You whined in response, hips canting down into his and head dropping into the warm crook of his neck. You licked mindlessly at the skin, rolling your hips into his. Seungcheol groaned and steel hands halted your eager core. 

“Desperate so quick?” he quirked, and you cried out because how could even begin to describe how hot it was that he could entirely still your movements so nonchalantly? You swallowed before you tilted your head from the safety of his neck. 

“I have waited so fucking long for your cock, Cheol. I need it inside me now,” you said seriously, and it was his turn to swallow the rising viscous in his throat, before he nodded and pushed you off his lap to remove his trousers. 

You saw the way the metal of the belt reflected the light, as he (almost angrily) began journeying it off his middle, and you took the hint, beginning to discard your clothes. Your first sweater fell to the floor, then the next followed, and then you were stomping the floor to rid your soaked trousers. Another article of clothing that was soaked - your panties! And embarrassingly so, you thought, watching the slick, wet patch as you lowered the material to the floor. 

Only then did your attention return to Seungcheol, now fully naked in his hut with windows on all sides, and you audibly gasped. 

His torso was one huge slab of muscle and meat. The skin was relatively pale, pronounced pecs and his arms were like tree trunks at his sides. His thighs were fucking huge, indentations of muscles peering through his skin, as he impatiently worked his boxers off. 

He halted though at your gasp, smirking cockily before returning to his work.

“Is it as good as you imagined when you came thinkin’ ‘bout me?” he muttered as his boxers slid down his calf. Too busy staring at his girthy, leaking cock sprouting between his legs, you neglected to answer and Seungcheol continued in a deliberately raspy tone: “Jus’ thinking about your pretty moans, my cock’s aching for you, princess. You’re not gonna come warm it up, beautiful?” 

“Yes-” you stumbled over a treacherous boot, “yes, I am!” 

“Good girl,” Seungcheol rumbled, bemused, as your knees floundered into the mattress and back into his lap. Seungcheol seemed to have other plans, however, because as soon as you had found your footing, and his warm hands were sliding up your back and his neck was craned up to you, breath hitting your breasts, he raised you and flipped you over, so you were digging into the mattress and he was above you. The shadows only served to define the chisel of his arms further. 

His hand slid down your soft thighs, settling in between your legs to run two fingers through your folds. 

“Your pussy is so pretty,” he whispered, somewhat mesmerized at the slick coating his fingertips. You squirmed impatiently and he shushed you, ever so gently: “Shh, baby, I’ll take care of you.” 

Immediately following up on his promise, the two fingers snaked down to your sensitive, pulsing hole, prodding gently. You wiggled and whined, one of your hands (which had been gripping his bedsheets) stopped him at the wrist. He stopped, eyes flitting up to your flushed, shiny face questioningly. 

“I wan’ your cock now. No prep,” you scowled, strands of hair sticking out messily. Seungcheol frowned. 

“I need to-” 

“I’m wet enough, please, been thinkin’ ‘bout this since-..” you cut yourself off with a frustrated sigh, eyebrows knitted together in frustration. Seungcheol couldn’t help but smile at how fucked out you were already, so precious, all beautiful and naked and womanly. 

“You sure?” he asked, voice matching the depth of the thunder. You nodded eagerly: “Please, please-” 

“Okay,” he murmured, sticky hand leaving your burning pussy in favor of pressing it against the underside of your thigh. At the command of his strong hands, your body folded in half and the realization of your position had you crying out pathetically. “Anything for my beautiful baby.” 

My. His. The word choice had you clenching around nothing, all spread out for him while he lined his pretty, red cock up with your entrance. 

“Gonna feel real full in a minute, yeah?” he said absently, watching intently at how your pretty pussy was splayed out and ready and aching for him, mind reeling at the sight of you and the smell of you and how you felt under his hands. 

And suddenly it was there - a mountain of pressure building around the head of his cock as it pushed inside, bursting when he pushed in a little further, until he was fully nestled inside. Seungcheol was not unaffected, body curling over yours animalistically with a deep, throaty groan. You, too, had to squirm and moan wantonly, as your body shone under the bulb. 

“You’re so tight, pretty,” Seungcheol managed, face scrunched up, as his pelvis met your pubic bone. His hands gripped your shaking legs once more, fully folding you in half and you cried as the movement invited him further inside, feeling him brush the spongy spot inside you. 

“Feel s’good!” you moaned, even as he hadn’t moved yet, and Seungcheol’s hands squeezed you in response. 

Experimentally (perhaps fearful, as you had rushed into it without preparation), Seungcheol thrust shallowly and was pleased at your broken cry, so he did it again and then again, and then he was building up a rhythm and your sultry moans were slipping through the cracks of the hut and bouncing off the walls of Aluralura mountain and echoing twenty times over. 

There was nothing sweet about the pace of Seungcheol’s hips. He was pistoning in and out with an impressive agility, huffing over your folded body. It was desperation; the way your nails raked over his back and his sloping arms, and sweet, little whimpers and your pussy choking his cock. 

“Sweetest, prettiest-” he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, stomach caving inwards and clenching. “Fuck, cutest, little princess being stuffed full of my cock.”

“Love your cock,” you babbled, “Love- love your cock, love you.” 

The words slipped out as if they were nothing, but their meaning was solidified by your raking hand sneaking up to his neck and pulling him down into another sloppy kiss. Tongues melding and spit trickling down your chin as he hummed into your mouth in the most wonderful way. 

“Love you, too. Pretty, funny, sweet girl-” 

“A-ah, ‘m gonna cum soon,” you warned, voice nothing but a breath, and your face pleasured, scrunched up in the dead of night. Your stomach was a well of pressure.

“I know, baby, I know. Squeezing me so tight,” he soothed, hands running up and down the plush underside of your thighs, as his hips continued their unrelenting pace. “Come on, cum on my cock.” 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Seungcheol-” a string of curses and his name followed as your pussy clenched one last hard time and your cum seeped out around his thick, veiny length.

Holding his own orgasm at bay, he clenched his jaw and gritted out: “Where d’you want my cum?” 

“Inside!” you mewled, overstimulated and sore, and legs still pressed to your chest, clammy and slick. 

Seungcheol would’ve made a snarky remark was he not already cumming at your words, white seed painting your insides and spilling out around his softening length. He thrust a couple more times, relishing in the sounds of your fucked-out moans before he’d emptied himself, and he dropped down beside you. 

Due to the nature of a one-person bed, you and Seungcheol were both pressed close to one another, covered in sweat. Your panting, huffing breaths synchronized and you stared into each other's eyes, all wild and blushed. 

“Holy shit,” you whispered, brought back to reality by a distant calling owl. You were still in the park, you realized - not some other pleasure dimension like one may have thought. Seungcheol smiled giddily.

You looked out into the wasteland, and your eyelids and limbs (draping over Seungcheol’s big, pretty body) were suddenly heavy. You yawned.

“D’you think we have to stay up anymore?”

Seungcheol watched you gauging the pinelands with starry eyes. “You can go to bed,” he offered gently, “I’ll stay up and make sure the storm’s over.” 

“Are you sure?” you mumbled, but you were already settling into the domes of his chest, closing your eyes. Seungcheol looked at you and thought you were adorable. 

“Yeah.” 

“Can you stay here?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Can your dick stay inside me?” 

This prompted a laughter blooming all the way from his chest, where your cheek bunched up against the skin. His arm was wrapped around your back. 

“Sure, baby.” 

You mumbled something like ‘okay’ or ‘good’ or ‘thank you’, and you drifted off into sleep with his arms around you, and when Seungcheol was certain the storm had passed, he nuzzled his head into your hair and dozed off himself. 

At the swimming red sky of dawn, your eyes pried open to see Seungcheol already awake, still wrapped around you. 

Nonchalantly (that is to say: as if your chest was not bursting with glee), you nodded your head over to the window behind him:

“Is that not a black-billed cuckoo?!” 

And Seungcheol thought that maybe you and him could find birds together elsewhere too. 

[milestonekestrel]

STILL WAKES THE DEEPERS COME GET YOUR DINNER!!!

[BODY HORROR AND FLASHING WARNING]

Thoughts under the cut (it gets lengthy)!

So.. we´re finally here huh? Took me a little over a week, but its done at last!

I´ll be honest, the idea first came to me when I listened to the song. I was brainrotting so bad on Still Wakes the Deep, I think I could´ve twisted anything into being about it haha. But this song actually fits it super well. ¨You lose touch with all the things that made you feel sane.¨ fits especially well with Caz, as everything that sort of grounds him on the rig during the shape infestation, the things that make him feel sane (mostly his friends) are all things he loses. In many cases, right in front of him. He also loses his family, as he realizes hes never going to get back to them, and, at the end, he loses himself too.

I tried to draw Caz´s hair progressively worse as his mental and physical state do. At his very best, particularly in the flashbacks at the end, his hair is shaped very specifically. But the more he goes through, the worse it gets, until at the very end where its just a tangled mess. Also his emotions, obviously towards the end he is still super emotional and stuff but I had hoped to sort of make it more...subdued? Maybe that´s not the right word, but he´s been through so much that his reactions aren´t as big to things, he doesn´t quite have the enough energy. He still Goes Through It with Finlay, but after that he´s giving you a constant 5000 yard stare. The, ¨I just watched every single one of my closest friends die in front of me¨ look.¨

Even when he gets to the derrick, he can only stare at the shape abyss.

He´s also in terrible physical condition and I tried to illustrate that with the scene of him standing up after Finlay dies. He is literally on his last legs, he is so, so tired.

also!! three flashy sequences in very quick succession at the end! do you know why? because Caz starts to See. The first, after Brodie dies, is a bunch of unique images about Caz. The people, things, and parts of himself that he is losing or has lost. Accompanied by other things, parts of himself, his life, etc.

There´s also these two images of Muir and Innes that I love very much.

The second one happens as he holds the lighter above the oil abyss! This ones just people he lost. And the third is everything that happened in the pmv flashing before his eyes. Because it is Quite a journey he has been on.

But you know why these flash? because Caz realizes that every step he is taking is one step closer to his death. Because he realizes that he is never going to get off the rig. because he realizes that he is going to die here. So hes thinking about Everything. His life, his family, friends, the horrors he went through, the things he lost and the things he will never, ever get back.

He also hallucinates Suze a lot in the pmv, but unlike in the game its not flashback sequences and she is not normal Suze. Until the end, when he´s reflecting on his life, its Suze With Tendrils!! Shape infected wife!!

and then at the end, she becomes more normal. Because he is flashing through the events of his life. also because he misses her, but he knows that by doing what he is doing, Shape Suze will never, ever exist. She will be safe.

I had a fun time drawing all the scenes in the pmv, but a select few are my favorite.

For example: The Beira D Bookends!

At the beginning and the end of the pmv, you get a full shot of the Beira D!

I like these scenes because I love having secret things like this. The bookends,,, ough do u guys get it they´re bookends... The Beira D is where it all takes place, in the game, and in the pmv. It is the first and last thing you see as Caz, and the first and last thing he sees in the 24 hours this takes place in. It is a very significant location, which is why it bookends the pmv.

Addair and Caz at the Stack:

Getting to animate this whole sequence was a blast. It´s my absolute favorite part of the game! Followed closely by the ending, but still my most favorite. I just think its a really cool part of the game, and it plays a lot into my Addair headcanons so!!! pretty sick!!

Caz´s Memories:

After he drops the lighter, Caz and his family are shown again. You can see him and Suze reconnecting (as well as the fact that I yoinked @inky-ash´s headcanon about them meeting up after he got punched in the face). He also plays with a young Cait. and drawing the hug between them just about made my eyes misty, because he really loves his family,,,, auuuughh,,,

also. the wedding photo.

I didnt really try with their outfits honestly, but I still really love how this came out. the wedding photo means so much to me...

The Lighter:

a little extra bit about the lighter. I drew when it was handed to Finlay, and when she handed it back to Caz. There´s no real scene parellells between these scenes, but I do really love them, and the whole fact that the Lighter was originally given to Finlay before she gave it back to Caz.

The Scene That Is Most Definitely Not A Reference:

Just kidding. it is.

The pose and composition is indeed a self-indulgent reference to the first artwork I made of Still Wakes The Deep!

Sinking:

The first time you see Caz in the pmv? He´s unconscious in the ocean, and sinking.

and the last time you see him? Unconcious, in an ocean, and sinking.

boy I sure do love parallels and things.

The Helmet:

at the very end, his helmet appears in the waves, before sinking below the surface. This is another self-indulgent little detail that serves as a nod to my headcanon!

I also just generally enjoyed drawing Caz and his facial expressions. That man means so much to me, so it was awesome to draw him so much!

also, I think its funny you can tell exactly when I figured out what the Cadal logo looks like, or that there even was a logo on the uniforms.

If you watched the pmv, or read this far, thank you so much!! This game means so much to me, and I´m so glad I could make this pmv. I love all the support this fandom has given me so far, so thank you! Thank you so much! Couldn´t have done this without such an awesome fandom <333

[vanderlesbian]

141 dating a civilian

hii!! this is a self indulgent belated bday gift to myself (im 20 now...) but i hope u guys enjoy it!! also feel free to leave requests in my asks bc i am so bad at thinking of prompts but ive been wanting to write so bad LOL

writing this had made me realize that i love writing gaz content........i am obsessed with him.........

gn reader! no warnings :)

masterlist

captain john price

- price loves being around you—you bring a sense of normalcy that relaxes him. when he's home, he enjoys doing domestic things around the home. he offers to do the laundry, he'll make you tea in the mornings, he feeds the dog and cat you two raise together and will go with you on any errands you need to run. when he's with you, he never thinks about work, which makes you happy because you hate to see him overworking himself.

- i feel like you two would meet through laswell. a mutual friend, you and price would meet one another at a pub or something of the sort. immediately, the two of you take an interest in one another, and laswell would catch onto that rather quickly and finds it endearing. when getting to know one another, you mention the fact that you live alone, which gives price the excuse to hand you his number. "in case you need anything", is what he told you, and you could've sworn you saw laswell snickering behind him. regardless, you ended up texting him a few days after that, asking him if he knew how to fix cars.

- loves going on vacations with you!! when price has a decent period of time off, he'll ask you if you want to go somewhere, to which you always answer yes. road trips are his favorite, because driving for long periods of time is something calming for him and he enjoys the fact that it's just the two of you traveling. maybe you'll go camping, or perhaps you'll drive a country over to spend a few days in a different city; whatever it is, you and price always have a nice time. while he gets to travel a lot, he recognizes that you don't have the same opportunity, so he loves to take you places as see your reactions to things. when he's deployed, he's always on the lookout for places to take you later.

- one of your favorite things to do is visit price while he's in the office. you usually bring him a meal, whether it be home made or take out because you know he's going to forget about grabbing himself something to eat. he always thanks you with a kiss, then you linger for a moment to speak to him, giving him time to eat and take a break from his work. while you're visiting price, all of his attention is on you, and if a soldier knocks on his door and asks to speak to him, he'll use his captain voice to tell them to come by later unless it's an emergency.

- price is very proud to call you his partner. although he tries not to bring you up too often at work because of privacy and professional reasons, he likes to mention you casually every now and then, especially with laswell or the other 141 members. he's proud of the work you do, no matter what your career is; he's just likes to brag about his amazing partner. he will do his signature v shaped smile whenever someone says in surprise,"oh, your partner is a/n [occupation]? how cool!"

simon "ghost" riley

- ghost is a listener, not a talker. and boy, does he love listening to you ramble on about your day. he finds it cute; the way you complain how expensive your coffee was that morning, or how you couldn't decide what to wear to simply go pick up a snack from the store. his responses include a lot of "oh really?", "i bet", and some snarky comments when you bring up a coworker that you don't particularly like. ghost is quiet, but his little responses show that he's well invested in your stories.

- just like everything else in his life, ghost keeps his relationship with you very private. it took him quite a while to even tell any of the other 141 members that he was in a relationship, simply because he didn't feel the need to tell them. he also wanted to protect you; not that he didn't trust the other members, but he was scared of your name accidentally being said to the wrong person. you were innocent, and ghost didn't want to ruin that innocence with the dark realities of his job and put you in danger.

- listen; meeting him at a music store. you would definitely be the one to initiate things, so when you saw a tall, handsome man flipping through records beside you, it made you look for an excuse to speak to him. "that's a good album", you would then finally speak up after watching him pull out a vinyl by the doors. ghost would honestly be taken aback; no one ever really strikes up conversation with him in public. "yeah" would be his response, but the dryness of it didn't stop you from continuing the conversation. after you two begin dating, ghost will often bring up how you were insistent on speaking to him, which never fails to bring a shy blush to your cheeks.

- you think it's amusing to have such a "scary" looking boyfriend. he tags along behind you whenever the two of you go out, and you often forget how large and intimidating he looks to others, especially because he always wears dark colored outfits and a face mask out in public. imagine ghost lingering behind you like a lost puppy while you mindlessly look through clothes at a store. when you're at the register, you notice the cashier glancing behind you, forgetting that ghost is looming over you like a bodyguard.

- speaking of others reactions, you love showing ghost off to people. you'll be spending time with friends, family, coworkers—whoever, and you get so excited whenever they ask if you have a boyfriend. you think it's funny to see their eyes widen when you pull up a photo saying "this is simon, he's deployed right now but (blah blah blah)". you had asked ghost for his permission to show photos of him to others while he wasn't around, and at first he was hesitant, but after hearing about the reactions he gives people, he doesn't care anymore. people think "that's their boyfriend?", which makes ghost smile to himself because yes, he's all yours.

kyle "gaz" garrick

- you two have this thing where the moment he opens the door after coming home from a mission, you'll sprint into his arms and he never fails to pick you up off your feet and squeeze you tight. gaz greets you like he hasn't seen you in years, covering your face and neck in kisses and spinning you around in his arms for what feels like forever.

- loves to facetime you when he's away. sometimes you'll be in different timezones, but both of you will be willing to stay up at 3 in the morning jusst to talk to one another. gaz always gives you room tours of whatever place he's staying at while deployed, or he'll call you while he's out shopping to ask what souvenir you'd like best. sometimes the other 141 boys will pop in to say hello, or gaz will shove the camera in their face to ask if they have anything to say to you.

- i feel that gaz would easily become jealous, especially because he can't be with you all the time. while he's away from you, you'll text or call him about an encounter at work or while you were out and about where someone tried hitting on you, earning a snarky remark from gaz. they always make you giggle because you're aware how protective he is of you, and they're often silly remarks like "they're lucky i wasn't there" or "should've told 'em your boyfriend is 6'5 and a wrestler"

- gaz is younger, so i feel that you would be a university student or something of the sort when you first met him. working part time at a local coffee shop at the time, you vividly remember gaz complimenting you the first time you served him. "you're very pretty/handsome, by the way" he said confidently, but quickly walked off before you could thank him. after that, gaz came in as often as he could, learning something new about you each time he came in, and it got to a point where you would simply give him a drink or pastry for free each time he came in. eventually he would ask you out, offering to take you somewhere after your shift, to which you immediately agreed to.

- when gaz visits your place, it's always like a silly little sleepover. the two of you will watch comically bad movies, make homemade pizza, play those couple's card games and he'll listen to you talk about any gossip you have. when gaz is with you, he takes it as his time to just be himself because he's so comfortable in your presence. he doesn't have to worry about being formal with you, and the two of you are equally as silly as you spend time with one another.

john "soap" mactavish

- soap doesn't like to bother you with his work. when he's with you, he'll always be so upbeat and playful, but you've learned to be able to notice when he's particularly stressed or tired. he insists that he's fine, telling you that you don't have to worry about him as he tries to play it off. he's a bit stubborn about it, so sometimes you have to bother him just a bit before he finally gives in and tells you what's up, or simply agrees to laying down and having a rest.

- okay, picture this. you meet soap at a dog park. i think he would have a german shepherd...which is besides the point, but when your dog and his both stop in their tracks to be friendly with one another, both of you feel that it's only natural to make conversation, right? the two of you quickly hit it off, to which you credit mostly to soap for being much more extroverted than you are, and the two of you talk about your dogs for a bit before the conversation focuses on yourselves. smoothly, soap would ask for you to join him on another trip to the dog park sometime, using the excuse that your dogs seemed to like each other.

- soap loves to text you while he's away, and other than gaz, he would be the one to text you the most out of any of the boys. he mostly sends a lot of random pictures of things he says reminds you of him, but will also update you on a bunch of random little things he's doing. "just shit in this french bathroom" "johnny i don't need to know that" "had to tell somebody"

- will leave plenty of his clothes for you to wear while he's gone, and it's practically all you wear during that time. you'll leave the house in an outfit completely made up of your boyfriend's clothes because they're just so comfortable, and it makes you feel less lonely having his scent lingering with you. even when soap is home, you still constantly wear his clothes, and 90% of his wardrobe is practically yours.

- soap would love to visit YOU at work. you forget your chapstick? he's on his way. you text him that you're hungry and forgot to pack a meal? he's bringing you your favorite fast food. although he's busy and can't stop by all the time, soap tries to stop by as often as he can, and all of your coworkers have learned to recognize him. "here comes johnny" one of them will point out, making you quickly whip your head around to look.

[urrockstar-xe]

Steven's first v-day - s.g x gn!reader

posted feb 2nd, 2024 11:38 pm (barely made it!!)

day 2 of counting down to valentines day! I'll also be doing marc and jake versions :D hope u enjoy xo

summary: it's Steven's first valentine's day!! reader has to make it special! oh but so does Steven, of course. Not proofread, possible use of Y/n.

this is my first moonboys fic! although it's steven focused there is mentions of jake and marc also being romantically involved with reader!! if anything i wrote pertaining to DID is offensive or not cool please let me know!!

masterlist

wordcount: 0.9k

For years Steven had essentially been locked up inside Marc’s mind unknowingly, of course he caught blips, little pieces of Marc’s life, and short memories that Marc purposely shoved down to the deepest depths of their brain, yet even now with Steven fronting on his own much more often he still was missing so much. 

Steven had yet to experience any holidays, though knowing Marc wasn’t exactly a fan of any of them, he still wanted to see them for himself, feel them for himself. Even though Marc and Layla hadn’t really celebrated Valentine's Day during their marriage, Steven still felt he was missing out.

Which of course is when you come in, Steven’s first real partner, he didn’t get you all to himself, but despite sharing you with Marc and Jake, Steven knew he was your very best friend, taking out romance completely you had always been close with him. Making him feel special and loved when he needed it most, and now he has the privilege to replace “love” with “my love” when speaking to you. 

Steven just had to make this day special for you. Marc had his day earlier in the month, Jake planned for next weekend but Steven, Steven insisted he get the 14th. He needed the full experience even if it meant fighting with Donna to get off work early on a Wednesday afternoon.

Steven spent all of Tuesday night at the shops, getting chocolate and your favorite snacks, options just in case you didn’t like the snacks or candy you did previously. 

He loaded everything up into a pink basket, half believing it was actually an easter basket. Steven ignored the suspicious feeling about the basket though, dismissing it as unimportant before moving on to buy two of the books on your TBR, ignoring every mirror in the place and snarky remarks from Marc and sarcastic jokes from Jake about Steven outdoing both of them. 

It’s only Valentine’s Day, Steven.

But it was so much more than that.

But he did ditch the easter basket.

What Steven had yet to realize was that you thought so too.

Today was just as special for you as it was for Steven, because of Steven, actually.

Yes, you had loved the sweet night in with just you and Marc, but with Steven and Jake, you had planned for just a little more, it was practically Steven’s first Valentine’s Day, it had to be special, just like your Steven was.

You had hung heart-shaped decorations up on the few lights in Steven’s apartment, a vinyl you had just bought him on the record player playing softly in the background as you threw a few rose petals across the kitchen counter opting that it would be an easier cleanup then anywhere else in Steven’s cluttered (but of course, comfy) apartment. 

Looking around you were pretty stumped on what to add for decor, before deciding to rummage through some of Steven's cabinets in hopes you'd find a vase, if so, you could buy him flowers, you couldn't think of anyone who would love them more. 

“Yes!” you shouted happily as you found a vase hidden behind the bowls, now why would he have them with the bowls? You ignored the questions in your head and seemingly missed the sound of the front door opening and closing due to all of your excitement. 

“Oh my days” that you heard, the sound of Steven’s voice filled with surprise and adoration filled your ears as you turned around, not even attempting to hide your disappointment in not being able to get Steven any flowers but the moment you laid eyes on his wide eyes, and agape mouth all of it melted away, quickly replaced by a smile. 

“Surprise!” You lifted your arms as if to gesture to your surroundings as Steven finally turned to look at you. “Oh, my love, this is” He paused as he looked around again before continuing. “This is incredible.” 

You gasped at the flowers in his hands, rushing over to him and pecking his cheek before taking them from him and quickly rushing back to your vase. Well, Steven’s vase really but finders keepers and all that.

Steven looked back at you, almost in a daze as he followed your movements into the kitchen. “You got off early, I wanted to get you flowers but-” Steven cut you off as you set the pretty bouquet in the glass, “We can share” he abandoned the bag of miscellaneous snacks on petal covered counter and instead used his hands to pull you away from the fresh flowers by your waist. 

“Happy V-day, Stevie” You smiled at him, earning one back in return. “All this for me?” Steven’s voice was quieter now that you were closer, soft eyes gazing at you most lovingly. 

“It’s your first Valentine’s Day, had to make it special for you.” 

Steven responded with a hug this time, shoving his face in the crook of your neck as your hands moved to hold onto his old grandpa sweater. 

“Hey, are there any sour strips in that bag?” You asked, words muffled by his shoulder as he chuckled, leaning back just enough to see that look in your eyes that matched his perfectly. 

“Of course, there is, love.” “Oh, he loves me!” Your excited words earned an actual laugh this time and a nod of agreement. “I grabbed as many of your favorites as I could remember, only the best for my first Valentine,” Steven said, releasing his hold on you to begin emptying the bag of goodies. You didn’t take too long to join his side, quiet ohs and ahs as he set everything in front of you. 

“I was planning on cooking tonight, surprise you with dinner when you got off, but now maybe we could do it together, yeah?” Your soft tone only added to his smile.

“What’s for dinner, my love?”

[fishii-writes]

haihaihaii i would like to request a nakahara chuuya friends to lovers for the event hehe :3 also sending u many happy birthday wishes in advance and lots of love mwah/p love you pookie <3

paring: chuuya x gn!reader

contains: headcanons

cw: highschool au implied, dazai + ranpo + yosano are chuuya's friends, just fluff, chuuya's a little clumsy but it ends well ;)

a/n: thank you for entering my event! holy YAP i yapped so hard for this 🥀 HOPE U ENJOY ILYTTT

word count: 810

how you both met

you two were definitely neighbours

“hey, go greet the new negibours’ kid”

and you two awkwardly greet each other

your parents and his parents get close eventually

and have regular meet ups, so you and chuuya get close too

you two walk to school together, walk home

he waits for you if you have extracurricular activities

if you have something till late at night, he goes home then comes to pick you up

who fell first and when?

we all know how friends are

they see you hang out with a pretty dude and suddenly rumours are like newspaper

“are you two dating??” and rumours like “i heard [name] and chuuya are dating!”

the rumours spread like crazy

they reach everyone except said pretty boy

one day, dazai asks him half jokingly “do you like them?”

suddenly, his view on you changes

sure, you’re perfect in literally every way, shape and form but

you were just a friend…! and suddenly he’s blushing at every smile you flash him

he’s covering his face when you look at him

and he’s acting all shy when you offer to clean up his face and bruises after he got into a fight

ugh, stupid dazai. now he’s caught feelings!

and he doesn’t want to tell you. or make it obvious (he is NOT discreet)

because he doesn’t wanna make you uncomfortable or make you hate him :(

when you fell:

i mean it was probably obvious 🤨

who wouldn’t fall for bro…

but the specific moment when you knew it was him.

the right one for you

was when he knocked on your door at about 11pm at night

your parents weren’t at home so you ask who’s knocking

he replies his name, you open the door after confirmation

he stands there. bruised and bleeding

and just collapses in your arms

he wakes up at about 2am, in your arms on your bed

you’re asleep. he usually wouldn’t let anyone (except you sometimes) hug him

especially in a moment as vulnerable as sleeping

so he stays in your arms. he even snuggles closer

and once you wake up, he’s still there

in your arms, eyes closed and a painfully obvious blush on his face

let’s just say, its safe to assume he didn’t wanna leave your arms that day

confession:

“5 bucks he won’t do it” - ranpo to dazai, about chuuya

“10 bucks he’ll back out” - dazai to ranpo, about chuuya

“50 bucks he’ll get the girl” yosano to dazai and ranpo (biggest supporter. ig.), about chuuya

chuuya takes a simple (not in his head though 😹) approach

he asks you at break to meet him at a nearby park after school

but there’s the mistake. his friends heard, and told your friends

so there you two are. the scene’s perfect.

cherry blossoms comically flowing down from the trees

and the wind lightly blowing around your hair

he leans in to tuck a strand behind your ear

he smiles tenderly, moving back to give you a bit of space

and right when he musters that last bit of courage to start speaking

he sneezes. the flowers and weather are against him!

you can’t help but laugh a bit

he finds it endearing (and dazai tries not to laugh behind a tree nearby)

he starts again. he opens the conversation casually

“actually, there’s something i wanted to tell you…”

and that’s when dazai completely loses it

he falls from in the branches of the tree?? onto the floor, laughing like crazy

yosano scolds him and ranpo laughs too

your friends groan, one throwing their shoes at dazai who’s still rolling on the floor

chuuya embarrassedly groans, turning to you

“before i was rudely interrupted. i like you. sorry to ruin our friendship…” he mutters, turning to leave (and shooting a dirty look at dazai)

you stand frozen. i mean, its not every day that your closest friend confesses to you AND your friends watch

without realising it, you follow after him

you reach out for his wrist, stopping him

he hesitantly turns to face you, a somewhat sad smile on his face

“where are you going? who said it ruined our friendship?”

you watch as his smile goes from a sad one to a hopeful one

“so… does that mean…?” he quietly asks

“yep” you smile

but he doesn’t want you to have to make your title? official

afterall, who wouldn’t wanna be confessed to AND asked out by chuuya?

“so that does that mean we can change our ship from “friend” to “relationship”?” he asks, getting a laugh from you

“yeah. did you steal that line from dazai?” and he nods

taglist: @tofumiarchives + open (send an ask if you'd like to be added! :D)

likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated!! <3

© fishii-writes 2024

[arminsumi]

we've had ex geto... but what about ex gojo?

YOUR FAVORITE EX

↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader

Note : ooo... ex gojo 🤤 hope u likey

Warnings : 🔞 minors do not read/interact : contains smut/explicit content, kinda toxic themes, some angst, baby trapping, pregnancy, dirty talk, unprotected sex + creampies, possessiveness

Playme : streets

🍒 More from Jay : Gojo works / Gojo fave works / JJK works / oct. reqs open

Ex!Gojo makes the break up everyone's business. And of course it's you breaking up with his obnoxious, overdramatic ass. Multiple times, too. You two have broken up so many times in fact that your friends just don't take it seriously anymore when you announce "We're breaking up". That just means "We're getting back together in two weeks (lol)."

Ex!Gojo pulls the "I can't find anyone like you" and the "Aw, don't be like that, baby" cards on you.

Ex!Gojo claims to be your favorite ex. Yeah you hate him... buuut he's still your favorite... right? Right? He'll nag you to admit it. It makes his heart flutter and ego swell bigger than his head.

Ex!Gojo is a menace, always deterring your potential new lovers and declining dates on your behalf. He gives you a stupid excuse with that cheeky smirk, "What? It's not like they could love you better than me, anyways. I'm the best. Don't waste your time. Just come back to me, yeah? You know my arms are still open to you."

Ex!Gojo doesn't act like an ex at all. He still kisses you. Still hugs you. Invites you for every party. Visits your apartment at 2 AM when he's drunk and rambles to you about all the crazy things he always rambled about at 2 AM. And you don't treat him like an ex because... his kisses put you in a trance. Then you realize oh, we're broken up, what the hell.

Ex!Gojo clings to your body and holds it with the same possessiveness that he always used to. He places his big hand on your hip and grips it tight, especially at parties. "Stay close to me."

Ex!Gojo taunts you during those late-night hatefucks, "You missed this fat cock fucking up your guts, huh? I know you did. Don't you fucking lie to me." while he's balls deep in you, skin slapping loudly against yours in the backseat of his car. He just kindly offered you a drive home, and then one thing led to another and you ended up on his lap having his big hands moving your hips up and down. "That's it, admit how much you missed me 'n bounce on this cock, baby. Admit it."

Ex!Gojo fucks you harder when he's your ex, making sure you're super full and stuffed with his cock. He loves molding your tiny hole to accommodate his shape, hitting your sweet spots with mean pounding thrusts until you scream those three little words for him. "I miss you!" he smiles when he hears this, presses his forehead to yours and coos while cumming inside, "Missed you too, baby. Missed this pussy. You know it's m-mine forever, don't you? No one can fuck you better than I can..." and it's true, no one knows the map of your sweet spots and erogenous zones better than he does. He's masterful at pleasuring you.

Ex!Gojo cums inside you more than he did while you two were dating. Who knows why. Seems like his animalistic, primal brain kicked in and he thought well if I put a baby in you... you'll have a piece of me forever. You'll have to come back to me. And his seed is potent. You bet you're getting pregnant. He has the wolfiest smile when you bitterly show him the pregnancy test. "Ooh, baby I'm so proud of that little pussy for getting pregnant. Let's have a celebratory fuck."

Ex!Gojo knows that no matter where you go, he'll always find you. His high school sweetheart. His five year girlfriend. The mother of his child. The only woman that's ever had such a strong hold on him. The only one he's ever been weakened by.

Ex!Gojo cries sometimes after creaming up inside your pussy, "Please come back... I miss you so bad..." and starts sobbing like a puppy into the crook of your neck when you run your fingers through his snowy hair.

Ex!Gojo feels his broken heart get pieced back together when you finally return to him. And just like that, he slots half his soul into yours. "Baby... you're the best thing this world ever gave me. Just let me marry you, please..."

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[yourfavouriterival]

the slow descent from reality (and how to find your way back)

shoko x platonic!fem!reader, gojo x platonic!fem!reader, geto x platonic!fem!reader

warnings: slightly au (not concrete on whether it is canon-compliant), puking, crying, mentions of wounds, mentions of death, hurt/comfort

note: idk if this is good :( but it came out and this is the first thing i've written in months so do give me criticism

-

There must be something in the air. That must be it, because she must’ve been imagining things. Surely, the two loves of her life were still very much the loves of her life. Surely, her closest and longest friend was still her closest and longest friend. Surely, their choice of school and choice of career hadn’t changed their souls so much that she flinched away from their touch. Surely, she could still stand her three best friends' gaze on her and not need to shrink from them. 

And yet. 

Her best friends—her three only ones—that she couldn’t bear to be away from had suddenly become the only ones she couldn’t bear to be close to. 

It’d all started in the beginning of the colder months. She’d yanked her coat over her thin hoodie and held the sleeves to stop them from rolling up her arm. She’d pulled a hat onto her head, avoiding the mirror to be able to ignore how egg shaped she must’ve looked. She’d double-tied her shoes to keep the cold out. 

She’d even grabbed an extra knife to stuff in her boot. 

And still her hands shook and her heart blistered from the cold. 

How long had she grasped onto this feeling within, trying to breathe it into existence only for it to not matter in the slightest? Years, at this point. How long had she wanted to fight stronger curses, to show how strong she truly was? How long had she longed for the chance to prove herself, to finally protect something that mattered?

Yet this past mission. She might've very well signed her resignation papers on the train ride home. 

Her train compartment had been isolated, just her and the sound of metal on metal as she turned her head away from the windows. Her phone lay silent in her pocket, the headphones she usually wore haphazardly thrown into her shoulder bag alongside the knife she’d stuffed in her boot. 

She’d come home, though. As she walked the steps leading to her dorm room, she thought she might just pass out, not from exhaustion. Every step hurt her lungs, and she felt the world was spinning before her eyes, and she couldn’t seem to stand on her own two feet, having to support herself on the wall next to the door. 

She’d never felt so weak. 

Her phone buzzed. 

She opened it. 

suggy: me n dumbass r watching lotr. come over

suggy: realising that sounds like a fuck boy dont come over

suggy: i give up. bye. 

suggy: shoko wants u here. i will not fuck u. 

sat on as a child: sugu soooo wants to hit

sat on as a child: ok sorry hope ur mission went well :3

cigarette girl: hello can u bring me a pack i think i left it in ur room

cigarette girl: omg wait how did the mission go!!! ur so professional now

And for some reason, she closed the door and slid down, numb to the feeling of the wood door digging into her back and somehow unable to close her eyes. The room was dark, the candle she had in the corner cold and dry, the light switch on the wall above her seeming to move further and further away from her hand that felt like forty pounds resting on her leg. 

She felt sick. 

-

For two days she couldn’t eat. She avoided Suguru and Satoru’s invitations by saying she had a stomach ache and she avoided Shoko by saying she had plans with the boys. For four days she couldn’t sleep. 

Nausea wracked her body with each breath and her head was spinning even though she hadn’t moved from her pillow for days. Her body felt oily, the idea of taking a shower too hard. 

I failed. I quit. That’s all she wanted to say. She just wanted to close her eyes for a moment and not see what haunted her mind. 

But if she really quit, what else would she do? Maybe she’d become a doctor, and try to save some lives for once. But why should she try to save people who rarely wish to be saved? Similarly, why was it in her DNA to see curses? Was it not non-sorcerers who should pay the price for their own doings? Should she need to watch yet another child die—

“Oi! Let us in, we’ve got take-out!” 

Satoru was the voice, and two smacks were heard, so that meant Shoko and Suguru were with him. 

But she couldn’t move a muscle. The blankets seemed to consume her, and she might’ve fought against it if she had any energy left to give. But her legs were made of cement and her stomach was filled with glue, sticking her insides together, and hindering her ability to feel her own legs. 

She didn’t want them to come in. She didn’t want them to see her like this. What would they think of her now? Her room was a mess, reflecting a fraction of what her mind was, and her bed looked like someone had fought a war in it. 

“We’re waiting! Hello,” Gojo drawled, voice almost like a melody through the door. 

She kept staring at the wall, curled into herself and breathing much too shallowly. 

“Suguru, you literally have a key. Use it.”

“For emergencies.”

“This is an emergency. I need to sit. My legs are numb,” he whined. Their voices were all muffled and she couldn’t really figure out if it was due to the door between them or how her ears were ringing. 

“Fine,” Suguru groaned, and she heard the sound of the key scraping against the keyhole before the door opened. 

“Your favourite people are here!” yelled Gojo. 

But it was so quiet. 

Her name was called out, or she thinks she heard it. But she didn’t move, only her back facing them. For a moment, she worried about the fresh scars on her back that couldn’t be healed fast enough, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. 

The bed dipped by her legs, and then a hand was placed on her knee over the blanket. The hand was warm, like a furnace under someone's skin, so it had to be Suguru. 

Her name was said again, and the bed dipped twice more—once by her head and lastly by her back. 

“What’s happened?” 

She didn’t speak, but she did start coughing. And then she spoke the first thing she’d spoken in days. “I—I’m gonna throw up,” she warned frantically, and within a second there was a metal bucket by her head where she’d shot up to sit. 

“Go away,” she cried between gags, but all that happened was Shoke pressing a wet towel to her neck and someone rubbing her back. “Please, j—just go away,” she cried, tears springing to her eyes when the gags turned to dry heaving. 

“Not right now,” Satoru said, unusually soft when he took the wet towel from Shoko to wipe around her mouth as she sat up. 

Without a word, Suguru took the bucket and disposed of it and it’s contents in the bathroom attached to her room, and then returned to kneel on the floor beside the bed. “We heard what happened.” 

It just made her cry harder, body so weak that she had to lean against Shoko behind her. “Then you should leave.” 

“Never,” Shoko finally said, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her head. 

The tears that fell from her eyes dripped onto her shirt, but she couldn’t seem to close her eyes from the onslaught. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. 

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Suguru promised. “Do they hurt?” She didn’t know what he meant, so she shook her head regardless. “Your back.” 

Oh. Right. The two slashes running across her lower back throbbed at the reminder of their existence. 

“A bit,” she said finally. “I feel… gross.” 

“Then do you want to shower?” 

“Y—yeah,” she said, but when she stood (disregarding that she was only clad in underwear and a t-shirt) her legs buckled beneath her, and she would have crashed to the floor had her three best friends not caught her. 

“Okay, I’m carrying you,” Satoru said, and no sooner than the words left his mouth was she in the air, not without yelling a bit. 

As they entered the bathroom, she realised what a conundrum she was in. Was she to strip naked? Or should she somehow hold herself up—

“Stop thinking so much,” Satoru chastised, and set her down on the closed toilet seat as Suguru and Shoko joined them. “Which one of you wants to? I would but—”

“Yeah, yeah, your six eyes and whatever,” Shoko grumbled, but it was Suguru who took whatever Satoru was holding.

“A blindfold?” she laughed suddenly, even though it tore up her throat to do so, and she lost her breath when Suguru tied it around his head and stood in the shower, arms open. 

“Won’t look. Just here to help,” he said. And then Satoru was guiding her into the shower, and taking Shoko out and closing the door, and then it was just her and Suguru. 

“Sugu,” she said softly. And then she was leaning forward, resting her head on his collarbone and just breathing him in as she reached behind him and turned the water on. She flinched at the coldness first, but leaned back anyway to take off her shirt. “Can’t get my underwear off,” she mumbled, and even with his gentleness of finding her hips and pulling them down, she couldn’t help but feel her face and neck warm. 

“We’ll take care of you.”

-

When Suguru clambered out of the bathroom with his soaking wet clothes to change, he also threw in an oversized shirt and underwear and pants, but as she yanked them on she noticed the smell—Gojo Satoru. 

She remembered, suddenly, buying them. They’d gone to a second-hand store, and Satoru had taken the biggest shirt he could find “just for funsies” and the softest pants, and then proceeded to never wear them. Shoko had complained and offered to take them, but Satoru refused, saying that someday he would want to wear them.

And now she was wearing them and tentatively stepping out of her bathroom to a very clean room. 

“Um—”

“I cleaned!” Satoru yelled. Shoko hit him in the shoulder, and walked towards her to guide both of them into her newly made bed. 

“I cleaned,” Shoko whispered, curling her body around her best friend’s. Then Satoru joined, flopping down next to Shoko whilst Suguru pressed his chest to her back. 

“I know.”

[headkiss]

hi!! i love your writing! could you possibly do a blurb with bf!steve with a sensitive reader? like maybe her friends made her feel left out or she gets embarrassed easily and steve is just there for her?

hiii tysm baby!!! hope u like it <333 | 0.7k of little angst to fluff! r feels left out after being with friends

It’s not often you feel this way.

You’d been at the diner for lunch with some friends, and it turned out to be kind of awful. You’d been the one to sit in the spare chair pulled up to the end of the booth, which was fine until it wasn’t.

First it was the split off conversations that you hadn’t been a part of, then the inside jokes, the laughs that surrounded you while you had to force one out to fit in. It only got worse.

Now, you’re parked in Steve’s driveway because you’d planned on spending the night, but you haven’t been able to get out of your car. Your overnight bag sits in the passenger seat, tears streaming down your cheeks.

You feel like a total idiot, crying over something like this, but it’s gotten under your skin. Your forehead falls against your steering wheel and you flinch when your horn goes off.

It’s Steve’s cue to head outside.

He’d seen your car pull up, he always does. It’s pathetic the way he loves you. The way he waits for you to come over every time you leave.

Usually, you’d climb out of the car right away, carrying your bag on your shoulder and walking through the door because it’s only ever you and Steve at his house anyways. A grin on your face, a hug to greet him.

Today’s different. Today, he waits five, ten minutes and you’re still in your car. And then he hears the horn and he knows something’s wrong. He knows you, he’s been with you long enough to know when something’s off.

He jogs up to the driver’s side of your car, peers into the window and finds you, forehead pressed to the steering wheel, shoulders shaking a little. He taps on the window with a single knuckle.

Your head jerks up at the sound, and when you see Steve you wipe at your damp cheeks with your palms before rolling the window down.

“Hi, Steve. I was just heading in.”

“What’s wrong, honey?”

You should’ve known he’d ask. Always the worrier, never getting anything past him.

“It’s silly. I’m okay.”

“You’ve been crying. That’s not silly.” He pulls your door open, rolls your window up for you, and holds a hand out towards you. “Come on, talk to me.”

You sniffle, wipe your cheek on your shoulder, place your hand in his. Your fingers entwine with his easily, the way they always do, falling into place.

“Okay.” You let Steve tug you up, let him carry your bag for you.

Before you know it, he’s got you on his couch, sitting sideways so you’re facing each other, legs overlapping, Steve’s hand on your knee.

“What happened?” He asks.

“I don’t know.” You shrug, and Steve’s not convinced, so you continue. “Lunch sucked. I’m dumb, but it was like I wasn’t even there, you know?”

His hand squeezes your leg, Steve-shaped indents in your skin. “I’m sorry, honey.”

“It’s stupid. I just felt like it didn’t even matter that I was there.” Your eyes well up all over again. “I could’ve gotten up and left and nobody would say anything.”

“They’re the stupid ones for making you feel like this, okay?” The hand that isn’t on your leg wipes away the tear that slips down the slope of your cheek, thumb gentle over your skin. “You’re incredible, the best ever. Pretty, too.”

“Steeeve.”

“I’m serious. This is why you should just be with me all of the time.”

You know he’s joking, but Steve would be happy to spend every second of every day with you. That’s not a joke. But his words are enough to make you smile, a small one, but he still feels like he’s won something.

“Thank you, Steve.”

He shuffles so that he’s laying in your lap, head on your thigh, hair flopping over his forehead. You’re quick to run your fingers through it, grinning down at the way his eyes flutter at your touch.

“So, how many boyfriend points do I win?”

You giggle, “a thousand.”

“That many?” He grabs your wrist, tugging one of your hands from his hair and bringing it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your palm.

He gets endless points from you. Best boyfriend ever.