#however I will be asking them to pay for my therapy

[cosmothealien358]

Just finished season 6 of the Dragon Prince

(More coherent thoughts in tags)

[venusiangguk]

the art of trying | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader / dilf!jk x grocery store clerk!oc

>>genre: friends with benefits, smut, angst

>>word count: 29.3k 😁

>>warnings: dom jk, sub oc, age gap, oc club era 🪩🥂, oc heart to heart with…, enter mr park seojoon !!, budding friendships 🥰, mending of relationships, enter dilf !!, reconciliation finally, but still we yearn, and jk is still a little stewpid, however!! he is doing his best!!, mostly oc pov i think, warning for a little bit of sad bc she is sad !!, but not too sad 😼, enter jock !!, dilf jk stuff: asking for permission, saying thank u, etc., fore play in the form of a lil dry humping 🫶🏻, finishes (multiple),, oral (m & f), dirty talk, lovesick gross smitteness 👎🏻, jreampie 👍🏻,  and finally, enter nari !! (🧋)

>>notes: finally am i right 🤣

this is part of my dilf jk series that can be found on my masterlist

>>summary: you’re trying to forget jungkook, but he’s trying to make sure you remember why you shouldn’t. 

It’s the middle of January and I haven’t learned to be okay without you, yet. The wind outside is harsh and cold. It hurts my feelings sometimes. 

 It reminds me of you, sometimes, too.

 I still miss you.

 “Girl, what does that even mean?”

 Your laptop gets slammed shut, and you whip your head around to see Binna. Your very best friend that has been caught red-handed, reading over your shoulder.

 “Do you mind?” you say with narrowed eyes.

 “I do actually,” she says, walking around the couch and plopping next to you. 

 You roll your eyes and rephrase with something she’s hopefully less likely to have an answer to. “Can I help you?”

 Binna looks stumped for approximately .4 seconds –not nearly long enough to be satisfying– and then she’s saying, “No, but you can help yourself. Please go to therapy. I am begging you and also I will pay for it.” 

 “Die.”

 “C’mon, you’ve been sad for like almost 2 months,” she groans, “and it’s like… tangible, ___. I walk into the house and I can feel it. It just permeates the air and– look, it even killed the plant.”

 Binna’s pointed finger guides your gaze to the small succulent on the windowsill and it’s a bit pathetic how your eyes start to tear up because it is in fact, the tiny succulent Jeongguk gave you so many months ago. You had done a good job of taking care of it for a while, his occasional texts reminding you to water it had been helpful. But lately you haven’t even really been taking care of yourself, and the little plant has, unfortunately, become collateral damage. 

 You also don’t get those texts anymore.

 With big watery eyes and a fat bottom lip, you turn back to her and she sighs. Grabs the remote and pauses whatever is playing on the tv. This makes Jade squawk, something about her watching it and it being the best part but Binna is having none of it.

 “No, this is actually dire. She’s crying over the plant, Jade. We have to intervene, it’s time.”

 Jade pouts for a moment, looking between the tv and you as if she can’t decide which is more pressing. When she crawls from her place where she was laying on the floor to your feet, it seems her decision is made. She rests her chin on your knee.

 “Still sad over the dilf?” she asks.

 You nod pitifully.

 “She was openly writing melancholy about him… it's a public cry for help,” Binna adds.

 With a nod of understanding, Jade says, “Writing can be a good way to get your thoughts together and work through them.”

 Choosing not to tell them that you don’t think you’ll ever be able to work through all the thoughts because there are just too many and it hurts too bad, you stay quiet.

 It’s not an awkward silence that takes over the living room, but you can tell that Binna and Jade are trying to think of something to say. Jade ends up being the one to interrupt the quiet.

 “Has he reached out to you at all?”

 The unanswered text on your phone started as a temptation, but it’s ended as a little memo that helps put things into perspective. 

 Did you get home okay?

 Jeongguk made his decision and he only sent you that text because he let you leave. 

 He sent you that text after he made it so incredibly clear that he wasn’t going to let you stay in his life.

 Despite you telling him you’d think about things, let him know what you decided in regards to you and him– he really didn’t leave much room for you to do that. He’s hard-headed and he’s extreme and when he makes his mind up about something… it’s not likely anyone will be able to change it. Especially if it has to do with Nari.

 And it’s not like you don’t get it. You do, to some extent at least. 

 Nari is his baby and Nari is his priority. Just like she should be. That’s self-explanatory and easy to understand. If Jeongguk felt you being in his life somehow messed with his priorities and decided it wasn’t going to work out between you two after giving it some thought– it wouldn’t have been easy, but you would have accepted it nonetheless. 

 But part of you believes he didn’t give it much thought at all because one moment he was washing you, taking care of you, kissing you. Making you feel like you were his and he was yours and like he cared. Like he was always going to be there; like he was endless. 

 Then the next he was telling you it was all basically a mistake to him. That he didn’t know if he had the room or the time for you anymore. Like you were an amenity with a timeframe. Something that was worthwhile, until it wasn’t anymore. Something nice that was momentarily useful, something that perhaps made his life better, easier in a way… but something that ultimately wasn’t necessary.  

 The turnaround was too abrupt and too abrasive and too rash for you to accept that it wasn’t impulsive. That he truly thought it through. You think that’s what’s hindering you from moving on. 

 A part of you almost wishes that you could fool yourself into believing he did mull it over. That he simply ‘changed his mind’. Because that’s better than the uncertainty that comes with him cutting you out so heedlessly. 

 If Jeongguk had a change of heart– it means that, at one point, his heart was sure of you; his heart did want you. 

 It’s deceiving, but it hurts less than the uncertainty. 

 The ache that comes with longing for what was is concrete and irrefutable in a bittersweet sense because at least in that case, what you’re yearning for was something that you had; something that was real. 

 You can’t pinpoint the pain that comes with uncertainty. There’s too much room for doubt, too many times you can mistake a ‘what if’ for a ‘what was’. There are too many ways you can spin the past if you’re not certain of it. Too many different outcomes you can craft. There are too many ways that uncertainty can hurt

 Jeongguk’s 180 took place barely within a few hours. Specific changes were instantaneous. Like the quiet unease that shrouded the atmosphere; the quick developing doubt that inevitably tainted both your affections. In all honestly, you could feel the shift as soon as he walked into the playroom after talking to Nari’s mom.

 Dasom.

 The things you feel when you think about her make you feel so ugly. Like your heart is rotten within your core, ruining you from the inside because it’s so easy to blame her and resent her for everything that occurred. Easy to pin the earth-shattering, tectonic shift in your and Jeongguk’s dynamic on her. It’s easy to hate her for the things she said about you, for the thoughts she put into Jeongguk’s head. But deep inside, right next to your rotten heart, there’s something small that’s telling you it’s easiest to hate her because you aren’t her. 

 An achy heaviness levels in your gut and you press your eyes shut tightly, consciously making an effort to not tear up. It still hurts so badly. In a way you don’t even really understand. You’re not sure if it stems from jealousy or insecurity or maybe both. 

 But there is something so excruciatingly painful, something that feels so devastatingly unfair, about Jeongguk and Dasom.

 It’s absurd and it’s stupid to let an ex get to you. You know that and you’re aware that it’s the past and that it’s over between them… but when you think about all of the history? It’s enough to overthink and compare. To wonder ‘what if?’, ask yourself ‘why?’ and ‘does he still?’.  

 Because they loved each other; were in love with each other. They had the sweetest little baby girl together. Dasom will always know Jeongguk in a way that you won’t. She will always know versions of him that you never will. She will always have a part of him and be a part of his life. She will always know him longer than you. No matter what –even if you and Jeongguk had stayed together, fallen in love, and gotten married– she was still there first. In a sense, you won’t ever be able to catch up to her– to them or what they had.

 You almost have to laugh at yourself for thinking like that because it’s so pathetically dramatic and pointless. Because yes, letting an ex get to you is both absurd and stupid. But especially so when you let it get to you after months. 

 Bitterly, you consider that maybe Jeongguk was right. Maybe you were too young for him, and maybe you really weren’t ready for everything that came with him.

 When your thoughts are reeled back in, you tell Jade about Jeongguk’s text you never answered.

 “God what a whore,” Binna groans. “What kind of person asks that after cutting you out of their life?”

 “A man,” Jade reasons.

 It makes you chuckle a small laugh, and the silence that settles this time is a little more comfortable. A couple of minutes pass with the three of you pretending to watch Jade’s show when Binna clears her throat.

 She tries to keep her voice light and casual, acts as if she’s just making conversation. “You’ve been lurking, no?”

 She will be disappointed when you admit that you’ve tried. But she’ll also be pleased to know that you simply can’t.

 “He doesn’t have Instagram.” You shrug your shoulders as if it’s not a big deal and like your recently searched isn’t full of accounts that have some variation of Jeongguk’s name in the user.

 “He probably has Facebook, he’s old,” Jade says absently, eyes glued to the television once again.

 Binna gets a worried look on her face when she can physically see the lightbulb go off in your head. Then her expression shifts into one of tired disapproval. “Thank you for that, Jade.”

 Jade’s reply is simply a preoccupied, half-hearted ‘My bad’.

 But you do not care and your phone is already out. 

 You’re trying to move on, you are. Truly. One peek won’t hurt. Also–

 “He’s not old, he’s only 29,” you say distractedly, waiting for the app to download before the phone is promptly plucked from your hands. “Hey–”

 “Give me that,” Binna interrupts, “If you look him up, you will come up in his ‘people you may know’. I don’t want that for you, and you don’t want that for you. Trust me.”

 With a frowny pout on your face, you settle back into that couch. “Well… I don’t want you coming up in whatever that is either, right?” 

 “You do not need to worry about that because I am a professional and I am crazy. What’s his last name again?”

 Professional and crazy sound like adjectives that are not supposed to go together, but you don’t argue and when she pulls out her own phone, you answer her. 

 Binna’s sleuthing seems to be entertaining enough for Jade to abandon her show, moving from her place at your feet to a seat next to Binna looking over her shoulder. Nervousness keeps you from joining, quietly just waiting for the few moments it takes for Binna to find what she’s looking for. 

 “Ah! Jeon Jeongguk, 30, C–” she gasps, eyes wide as she looks at you, “you didn’t tell us he was a CEO!”

 You shrug. “Didn’t seem important. And I told you already, he’s 29. Not 30.”

 Binna’s brows furrow before she’s looking at her phone again, bringing it close to her face and using her thumbs to zoom in on the profile picture. “Is this not him?”

 “No, that’s him,” Jade confirms, face close to Binna’s. “I’ve seen enough pictures of him in the groupchat that I also see him in my dreams.”

 “Please don’t dream about him,” you say musingly, reaching to snatch the phone from Binna just like she did to you.

 It is in fact your Jeon Jeongguk pictured on the phone. His profile picture is candid, him smiling wide with those puffs under his eyes, probably mid-laugh. But it still seems professional enough, he’s in one of his many expensive suits, with his tie on, and his hair done sleek.

 And you can feel how a small, sad smile comes to rest on your lips. You carefully click on the picture to see when it was posted.

 Just a couple of weeks ago. 

 And the small, sad smile gets even smaller and even sadder. He looks happy enough, and you hope he is. But it stings a little for some reason. 

 Then you remember why you pilfered the phone in the first place.

 Looking over his profile, you see the basic information. His alumn, his job, his hometown. You click the ‘about info’ option below all of that and it’s then that you see his birthday, and that his age is indeed 30. And you feel silly, a little embarrassed, for not knowing. Or maybe forgetting?

 Though, you’re almost positive you didn’t forget. That you wouldn’t have forgotten something like his birthday. That you couldn’t have because Jeongguk was your favorite person. 

 You trade Binna her phone back for yours.

 The photos in your camera roll on his alleged birthday are from what you thought was a random day that Jeongguk asked you to come over.

 It was kinda spontaneous for him. Considering he was someone that usually liked to plan, getting a random phone call from him while you were still at work was out of character. He simply asked if you wanted to come over. Just laze around with him, watch a movie, or something. Stay the night, maybe. He sounded slightly boyish when he asked, like he was trying to mask the hopeful excitement in his voice. You told him yes, of course, but that you wouldn’t be able to come until after work. 

 When you showed up at his, still clad in your work uniform, he was beaming. You barely made it through the door before he was literally giving you the shirt off his back to change into, helping you out of your polo and khakis.

 In the photo you’re looking at, your head is in Jeongguk’s lap and he’s shirtless looking at the tv with his hand over your mouth. You had been purposefully asking too many questions, just like you always did. The picture was taken from below so the angle is a little funny.

 And even though you’re smiling at the memory, the image turns blurry as you start to tear up. Something about it warms your heart while simultaneously breaking it. 

 Apparently, he didn’t want gifts, or anything extravagant. Seeing as he omitted telling you it was the one day of the year that everything was supposed to be about him, the one day he was supposed to be doted on. Jeongguk just wanted to be with you. Just your company was enough for him. Just you were enough for him.

 “He never told me it was his birthday, but he asked me to come over,” you tell your friends, with your thumb swiping through the many pictures you took that day. “Like me just being there was a good enough birthday present or something?”

 Jade can hear the waver in your voice, and she gently says, “Maybe we shouldn’t look at old pics if it’s going to make us sad, hmm?”

 “Maybe we should delete them, hmm?” Binna chirps.

 You hear them but you continue till you get through the whole night and the next morning. The tears are so heavy in your eyes, but you try to laugh, dabbing at your waterline with your sleeve when you say, “I like– really miss him, guys,” before you end up just covering your face with your palms and letting yourself have your moment.

 Jade coos, scooching closer to you, pulling you to her side. She rubs your shoulder soothingly. “I know you do, ___,” she says quietly. 

 Your roommate has really come a long way since the first conversation you had with her about Jeongguk. The other roommate, however, seems like she is regressing. 

 “We have got to get you out of the house and onto another dick. Your vibrator is tired and your pillow probably smells like the ocean because of all the tears it’s soaked up. It probably needs a wash, too.”

 “Binna!” Jade scolds.

 “No, like I’m so serious right now,” Binna defends, “I understand being sad over a breakup, but it’s been months. And over a grown man who lets his literal ex-wife, whom he divorced, still have such a pull on him? Like c’mon. What the fuck is that?”

 “She’s allowed to be sad! And those things you listed make her sadness even more warranted. You were holed up in your room for months too, at one point,” Jade reminds, “But it was over a boyband breaking up.”

 “In hindsight, it was very good for Zayn to leave,” Binna amends before giving you her attention. “Listen I get it, but I just want you to be happy again… You know?”

 When you peek up at her with a sniffle, she looks sad.

 “I don’t want you to get stuck in the sad and the hurt, ___,” she says quietly, “because sometimes when people get stuck in the sad and in the hurt, they can’t like– get unstuck. You know? Nothing gets better. The depression just swallows them and they don’t ever feel better and– I want you to feel better.”

 Binna’s not the most eloquent, but she has the biggest heart. And you know she means well, and despite how stuck in the sad and the hurt you truly are, you know that she does have a point. 

 You have to brood over it for a moment, and you kind of feel like you’re outside of your body when you agree. Like you’re hearing someone else say, “Okay, where are we going?”

 ~~~

 The club lights are too bright and strobing too fast, just asking for someone to seize. Your feet hurt because the heels you’re wearing are too high. You figured the weeks following New Year’s would be less crowded, that everyone would be recovering from blackouts and bad decisions. The sheer number of people around you tells you otherwise. You’re not having a good time. 

 When you tell your roommates as much, their response is handing you a shot. A few shots.

 And since alcohol is essentially magic, with every shot glass that is emptied down your throat, the night grows more enjoyable and less likely to be remembered. The lights turn pretty, and the ache in your feet becomes dull and muted, just like the one in your heart. 

 You’re dancing how a person who doesn’t know how to would. Hips swaying, arms occasionally going above your head before slinking back down and over your body. The bass in the club makes it feel like everything is vibrating and it makes you laugh dumbly, eyes squeezing shut as you giggle to yourself. You know Binna and Jade are close by, but it feels like you’re in your own little world.

 “I feel good,” you yell over the music to no one in particular. Eyes still closed, a loose-lipped smile lingering at the corners of your mouth.

 The warmth of a body can be felt behind you, though it’s not quite pressing against you yet. It doesn’t feel bad, and neither do the fingertips ghosting along the curve of your waist. You press into the touch, the heat, a little more. A chiffon chuckle is puffed over the crown of your head. The tentative fingers at your waist get more firm, their grip trying to steady you.

 “You look good, too,” the body behind you says, lips brushing the shell of your ear. It makes chills prick at your skin.

 You bite your lip to keep from smiling at the sensation, at the words. Your hand goes to cover the bigger one on your waist. You intentionally keep the touch constant when you turn around in their hold. Their palm slides along your body till it’s settling on your lower back just above the swell of your ass.

 When you look up, your reply gets caught in your throat.

 The owner of the warm body behind you is handsome, strikingly so. Tall, strong. Smile dreamy, and eyes dark. He gives you a soft grin accompanied by an encouraging nod, wanting you to say what you can’t seem to get out.

 “Uh–” you sputter with a wince, before clearing your throat, “I– yeah, um… thanks, you too.”

 You can’t hear his laugh over the music, but you can tell he’s amused by the way his chest rumbles, and how his eyes curl. The hand at the base of your spine moves to your hip, squeezing gently.

 His other hand is moving, too, and your track it till it’s tucking some hair behind your ear. You go still and flush when he leans down to your ear again. “I’m Seo-joon,” he tells you.

 Introducing yourself is the automatic reply he gets, and he hums, eyes scanning your face. The hand that tucked your hair trails down your arm until his fingers meet yours. They flirt for a moment before they lace together. His movements seem shy, but they’re actually very calculated. Well practiced. Like he does this a lot. Like he knows exactly how to get what he wants. 

 The realization sobers you some. Not enough to clear all of the drunken fog in your head, but enough to make you vaguely more alert. 

 “I think you’re a… a little too good at this for me, Mr. Seo-joon.” 

 Seo-joon briefly looks surprised, eyes widening like a child who’s been caught in a lie. Then he’s recovering, laughing. “Ah,” he muses, guiding your arms to drape over his shoulders, your hands interlocking behind his neck. His hands do the same around your waist as he pulls you a little closer. “I don’t know, you might be the one that’s too good? Too smart? Read me like an open book.”

 There’s a flutter in your tummy that you haven’t felt in months and it’s exciting. Makes you giddy as you blink up at him sluggishly, eyelids heavy. 

 “Are you not?” you ask him, coquettishly referring to him being easy to read. “Aren’t you here for the usual?”

 He looks up like he’s thinking. Then he’s shrugging, like there’s no point in denying the obvious. Crowding your space, cheek brushing yours as he talks into your ear again, he asks, “And why are you here, ___? The usual, as well?”

 Seo-joon doesn’t move out of your space like the times he did before, instead pulling you into him a bit more, making your space his space too. Lips brush against the corner of your jaw, just below your ear. Teasing, yet sure. 

 “I’m here to forget–” Your hand twines into the hair at the nape of his neck when he nips softly at your earlobe, making you gasp quietly, interrupting yourself. “–about someone.”

 He lets out a smug sound of understanding. “That’s about as ‘usual’ as it gets, ___,” you hear him say, before he purrs confidently, “Let me help you.”

 And when he molds his lips to yours, you expect the kiss to feel as good as the lead-up. 

 You expect the butterflies in your belly to flutter wildly– not go still. You expect the hands roaming over your body to feel rousing– not misplaced, like they aren’t supposed to be there. When you open your mouth to let him lick inside, you expect it to feel right. But it doesn’t. Sure, it doesn’t feel wrong, necessarily. But it doesn’t feel like it should. He doesn’t feel like he should.

 But you want him to. You want Seo-joon to feel right, and you want him to feel good. You want it so badly that you go home with him. 

 ~~~

 The cab ride is nothing but a precursor– something that needs to happen but not something that needs to be remembered. It’s just a soft blur that prequels his soft bed, his soft kisses, his soft pets. 

 Seo-joon is being gentler than he was at the club. 

 Under the hazy hue of the club lights, the strong hands that tugged at the straps of your dress were confident, cunning, audacious, and assertive. Boldly expectant of the outcome he was so sure he would get. 

 Under his sheets, those same hands are… not exactly timid, but ginger with their eagerness. Delicate, imploring, coy, and suggestive; tactfully encouraging, rather than expecting, the outcome that he hopes for. The way his hips brush against yours is unhurried and intentional. The crass, dirty movements from before that were careless and unrefined are long gone. Now he’s patient. Grinding into you slowly, deliberate.

 However, the change in pace, in the scenery, and in his demeanor– none of it makes the kisses taste any sweeter; none of it makes the touches feel any better; none of it makes anything good enough in the effortless way you long for. 

 It’s counterintuitive but the lack of ease, paired with the desire for it, just makes you try harder. Redouble your efforts.

 You press your lips against his in a kiss that’s harder, dig your nails into his shoulders with a grip that’s harder. When you cant your hips up against his just so– you do it harder. He gets a little harder in his pants, and the thoughts in your head get a little harder to ignore. Faking gets harder and pretending does too.

 Seo-joon is smart enough. He’s probably been around enough, too. With experience under his belt, it doesn’t take him long to sense the shift. The way your energy dulls, the slight tension tugging at your frame underneath him. But still, it doesn’t stop him from testing the waters one more time, giving you a few more unsure, assessing kisses. 

 To no avail.

 With furrowed brows, he pulls away. Seo-joon doesn’t look angry, though. Just confused as he braces himself on his forearms, lifting himself just enough to be able to take you in, most of his body weight still resting atop you.

 He clears his throat. “You don’t uh– you don’t really… seem to be– into this? Anymore? Into me?” 

 Your expression probably mirrors his. Confused, and maybe a little lost as you study him. Because he’s handsome. Almost unbelievably so, with his high cheekbones and sharp eyes; his nose and mouth that appear perfectly placed; his smooth, airbrushed skin.

 You should be into him. Superficially at the very least.

 But you just aren’t because even though he is handsome, flawless even, he’s attractive in a very ordinary, classical way. There doesn’t seem to be anything signature about Seo-joon’s features. 

 When he smiled at the club, it was idyllic and exactly symmetrical. His cheeks filled out, but just enough. His teeth –a dentist’s dream– were pristine, perfectly proportioned, and all of them just the right size. So white that they were almost beaming in the dim lights. 

 And even now, when he attempts an uneasy one to shake awkwardness it’s… fine. His plush lips are fine and his straight nose is fine and his even brows are fine and everything about Seo-joon is perfectly fine. 

 But, to you, he’s not really anything special. 

 Surface level, Seo-joon’s perfectly fine. But so are so many other perfectly fine, classically beautiful, ordinary men. There’s nothing that sets him apart. No defining characteristics, nothing about Seo-joon that makes him him. 

 Yet you can’t stop yourself from thinking that even if there were, it wouldn’t matter. 

Because you already know what makes someone special to you. 

 You’re well aware of the distinctive features that make your heart flutter. Like when someone smiles and their bottom lip tugs down just a hint farther on the left side. Or when they get little rounds under their eyes and scrunch their nose when they laugh. When he has things about himself that are slightly imperfect. Like big front teeth or a barely off-center freckle under his bottom lip. Like the deep scar on his cheek that he got from his brother when they were little. Or the faint one by his eyebrow from the piercing he had in college that had to be taken out before it was yanked out by a tiny hand. 

 The man you’re sharing a bed with could be the most uniquely attractive person on earth and it wouldn’t make a difference. It still wouldn’t make him special– not to you. 

 He’s not what you want.

 You hum when you admit it to yourself. 

 “I’m not.”

 Momentarily, Seo-joon looks taken aback by your seemingly rash rethink, but he takes your drunken bluntness in stride. He gives you a forced smile before he hangs his head in an apologetic bow, shifting from on top of you to lay next to you. “I see, I’m sorry if I assumed or overstepped or made you feel like you had to come home with m–”

 Seo-joon sounds guilty, and it surprises you when a hint of guilt starts to bloom in your chest.

 “You didn’t!” you interrupt, “I thought I was into you… or like I should be into you…”

 His eyebrow quirks and he just looks at you.

 “Ah…” you muse awkwardly, scanning the room. 

 It’s so very bachelor. Dark furniture, a big tv mounted on the wall, a little bar cart off to the side next to the mini fridge that’s kinda big to be called ‘mini’. Nothing personal at all that could tell you anything about him, except the boxers on the floor that tells you he prefers Armani. No hint as to what his goals or his hobbies are. 

 Perhaps it's a good thing you didn’t sleep with Seo-joon. Guys like him have the most brutal post-nut clarity and you’re not sure you could take another grown man hurting your feelings. 

 “I just don’t want you to think like– I don’t know? That you did something wrong? Or that you like coerced me into coming h–” 

 “Wait, I didn’t think that–”

 “–I’m the one that should be sorry!” you assure him, “Because I don’t think I actually went out to try and forget someone; I think I was trying to find them?”

 A couple of stilted seconds pass. 

 “In… me?” he asks, like he’s mentally trying to puzzle the pieces together.

 “I guess? Maybe replace them with you? Or like… use you… as a placeholder?” You wince helplessly at your choice of words, unable to stop them before they spill out. 

 Seo-joon’s confusion is replaced by a quick, bright laugh which is followed by a small smile that seems almost pitying. 

 “You’re still young–”

 You physically cannot stop the way you interrupt him with.

 “Please shut the fuck up.”

 The tired words are spat tartly before you can clench your teeth around them. It’s probably a defense mechanism– you’re not quite sure you can handle another grown man being mean to you, but you’re almost very sure that you can’t handle one lecturing you about how young you are, about how much life you still have left to live, about how your youth makes it difficult to know what you really want, about how–

 “Whoa,” he laughs. He’s on his side, his head propped up on his palm. He eyes you for a moment before he tugs the strap of your bra back up, haphazardly covering you again. “Sore spot?” 

 Pulling his sheets up for good measure, you pout. “He was older.”

 Seo-joon makes a noise of understanding. “Older like… older brother’s friends older? Or older like met him at your dad’s work party older?”

 Heat floods the rounds of your cheeks and you look anywhere but at the man next to you. No photos in frames. Not even a dvd collection that could tell you what type of movies he likes.

 “He’s like– dad old,” you murmur, chancing a glance at Seo-joon only to see him pull a queasy-looking face, and then you’re backtracking to defend yourself. “But only like baby-dad old! Not like– teenager-dad old!”

 He looks unconvinced. “How big’s the gap?”

 “7 years?” you try.

 Seo-joon goes from unconvinced to shocked and then to puzzled. “That’s like… nothing? Probably around our gap too?”

 Your hands fly up and you scoff a little as you exasperate, “That’s what I said!”

 He joins in and you both laugh in his bed until the giggles putter out into lazy silence. You’re pulling at a little tuft of lint when he hums.

 “He told you that you were too young?”

 You open your mouth to reply immediately, but then hesitate. 

 Because your age was part of it. Of course, it was, but was it all of it? Was it the root of it?

 “I mean you are; not too young, just… young. But–” Seo-joon grins smugly, giving you a pointed look when he sees you scowl, “–youth isn’t a bad thing. And you’re smart. I meant it when I said that.”

 Rolling your eyes, you say, “We literally just met–”

 “Yeah, and?” he counters, just for the sake of it because he still doesn’t allow a reply. “We only just met and I could already tell that you were smart. Even though I tried, I knew my… methods wouldn’t work on you. You read me like an open book,” he repeats what he said earlier that night, before speaking slowly like he’s spelling something out for you. “and I’m sure I’m not the only one you’re able to read like that?”

 Your scowl intensifies. “What are you getting at?”

 “This boy you’re trying to ‘forget’? ‘Find’?” The hand that’s not supporting him comes up and he makes some air quotes. His tone is a little softer, like maybe he’s trying to be gentle. Or maybe he’s just tired of talking to you. You can’t be sure.

 “I feel like you’re smart enough to know if the whole thing is worth it or not. How long ago was it?”

 “A month or 2… give or take 17 days…” you mumble, avoiding his gaze.

 “Okay. But yeah… that’s a good chunk of time…” he says around a quick yawn. Then he hums thoughtfully to himself. “I feel like you could think back and read the situation a bit more clearly now? Like, reassess it to… you know… I don’t know just figure stuff out…”

 “‘You know, I don’t know’, ‘Just figure stuff out’, ” you mimic dryly, “That’s all the advice you have to offer me when you’ve lived lifetimes longer than me?”

 “Listen, you can’t hate all men because of one man–”

 “Yes, I ca–”

 “Okay but, you don’t even hate that one man? That’s the whole issue?” Seo-joon interrupts. He lilts his tone up in an inquisitive manner, like he wants you to confirm. 

 You refuse and choose to reply with petulant silence.

 “Exactly. C’mon, use that big, smart brain in that pretty, little head of yours,” he encourages, “Look back and just figure stuff out. It might be hard, but not as hard as you think. I feel like time away from what we think we need or want, always puts things into perspective. Distance makes the heart fonder, or–” He pauses for dramatic effect. “It makes the heart indifferent.”

 Not rolling your eyes is a feat, but you manage. “Clearly my heart did not become indifferent if I am laid up with you and still going on about it.”

 Seo-joon hums again, carries on some more. But you’re not paying attention because maybe time didn’t put things into perspective, but his words just did.

 Distance and time make the heart indifferent.

 Jeongguk hasn’t been to your store once since you left his house. 

 You frown, connecting imaginary dots as a little wrinkle sprouts between your brows. “He hasn’t come to see me since he cut things off.”

 Seo-joon pauses mid-sentence, mimes your expression. “Did you expect him to?”

 You pause now. 

 “Um… kinda?” you start. Rolling to your side you copy his position so you can look at him. “I mean, I work at the grocery store he would normally shop at,” you explain, before tacking on, “That’s where we met. He lost his baby and I found her… Or– she found me I guess.”

 A small twinge of pain pricks your heart at the mention of Nari. You wonder if she’s talking, or if she’s at least getting closer. If she still doesn’t keep the sock on her left foot, or if she’s grown out of that nerve-wracking yet endearing little habit of hers. 

 What Dasom said about Nari getting attached comes to mind and you hope the little one is doing well. It hurts a little to think about, but you hope for her sake, that she didn’t get too attached or too sad when you stopped coming around. You hope she forgot you quickly.

 “Anyway,” you say, “Guess that means his heart became indifferent.”

 Giving a half-hearted shrug with a single shoulder, aiming to come off unbothered. Trying to act indifferent yourself, and like your heart didn’t just drop. You blink a couple of times in an attempt to clear the glassiness you know is cloaking your eyes and offer a weak smile.

 Regarding you with a slightly concerned color to his features, Seo-joon chooses to not address the passing mention of a misplaced child or the fact that you’re very close to crying while half-naked in his bed. Decidedly, he says, “I’m not sure if I would call avoidance indifference.”

 You sniffle. “Huh?”

 His eyes narrow and he looks like he’s debating something internally. Then he sighs. “Listen, I’m not trying to encourage you to wait for him or go back to him. Or like… give you false hope–”

 “Gee, thanks–”

 “No really,” he stresses, “because that genuinely could be nothing. Men are a bit dense. They do things that may seem calculated, but in actuality, they’re just daft and it didn’t even cross their mind. But in my opinion,” he continues slowly, a bit hesitantly, “Choosing to not go to the grocery store he –I’m assuming– frequented regularly? Right after a breakup?” He sucks a bit of air in through his teeth before he shakes his head. “Yeah, that seems like a very deliberate choice.”

 “Like indifference would be more–” he continues before pausing briefly to choose the right words, “I picture indifference as more of– him still going to your work, despite the breakup, because he just doesn’t give a fuck.”

 Whatever words you were planning to say get caught in your throat and you cough out a short laugh at Seo-joon’s straightforwardness. 

 He grins a little. “Right? Because that’s what it is– a lack of interest, lack of concern. Like he just doesn’t care one way or the other about you being there because you’re not important enough for him to be affected by you.”

 You know he’s speaking in hypotheticals, but it still sours your expression. Makes your lips pull down at the corners.

 “Personally, if I were him and I was truly indifferent, truly unbothered,” he places his hand on his bare chest, “you being there or not being there wouldn’t be significant enough for me to alter my routine.”

 Your eyes flit quickly over Seo-joon’s torso. His gesture causes the sheet to fall slightly, pooling at the subtle curve of his waist. There’s a faint warmth flooding your cheeks as you swiftly and intently bring your gaze back up. 

 You swallow before replying with a simple, “Ah… yes… that makes perfect sense.”

 Playfully, Seo-joon scowls at you. “You sure you don’t want to fuck?”

 “Yup.”

 “It may help–”

 “Nope, don’t think it will actually.”

 He shrugs, an amused grin still lingering. “Suit yourself–”

 “I feel like your post-nut clarity would hurt my feelings and I’m vulnerable right now.”

 It’s silent for 1, 2, 3 seconds before Seo-joon’s loud laughter echoes in his room. Failing to keep a straight face, he rolls on his back and rests his head on his pillow as he lets himself laugh to his heart’s content. Then he inhales deeply and scrubs a hand over his face and swipes a finger beneath his bottom lashes; catching his breath and regaining his composure and wiping away the wetness under his eyes. 

 A few seconds pass before he’s turning his head to look at you with a quiet smile. It feels a bit too tender, too sincere, and too heartfelt, for what was supposed to be a one-night-stand. 

 “See,” he says softly, “told you you were smart.”

 You just look at him, trying to read him like he’s so sure you can. There doesn’t seem to be any ulterior motives, just him being genuinely kind to you because he wants to be. And for some reason that makes your eyes burn.

 “If it doesn’t hurt too badly to revisit everything that went on with the boy,” Seo-joon begins, interrupting the light hush that settled between the two of you, “I really feel like you’ll be able to see things clearer; read the situation better. Figure stuff out. And then, things will start to fall into place for you. Everything will start to make a little more sense. You’ll know if you’re wasting your time being hung up on him, and if it’s worth your happiness. You’ll know if looking for him is worth the effort, and you’ll be sure that ‘finding’ him is actually what you want after all.”

 You’re definitely going to cry.

 “And when I said you were still young, and that your youth wasn’t a bad thing,” he continues, “I meant that if you decide that you do want to look for him, and you do find him again– you still have enough time to try with him again.”

 With a wobbly bottom lip, you feel your features slowly morph into a scowl.

 It’s self-directed because it’s then that you think about what’s happening and how ridiculous it all seems.

 Because why are you on the tail end of being drunk, half-naked in the bed of a grown man who you met just hours ago? Why are you telling him bits and pieces about the person he was supposed to distract you from? The person that caused you the most delicately painful ache that’s been festering for months? Why are letting this man give you advice? Why are you letting him comfort you? And why does it feel like he’s done a better job of it by just listening to you for the last few hours, than friends you’ve had for years? 

 And why do you feel like you’re going to cry about it?

 The self-directed scowl morphs to a Seo-joon-directed glare.

 “He’s not a boy,” you begin in a voice that shakes just a hint, arguing just to be difficult, “he’s a man with the cutest baby and he’s 30 now and–” The urge to cry cuts you off and you feel the first tear leak from the corner of your eye. 

 Seo-joon’s soft, sincere smile turns slightly sad as he tracks the salty drop. “Hey, don’t cry–”

 “Shut-up,” you spout, your tone somewhere in between short and like you’re begging him to be quiet because it was him speaking that brought you to this state in the first place. 

 A short staring contest ensues.

 “Also– I bet you would’ve been the worst fucking one-night stand,” you add on for good measure. 

 Seo-joon’s ability to keep from laughing is impressive. It’s only for a second that an amused smile overtakes his features– a natural reflex he isn’t able to stop. But it’s barely there at all before he’s schooling his features into something that he hopes looks receptive, like he’s taking in what you’re saying, absorbing it like it’s Gospel. 

 But he’s also a curious motherfucker, and he wants to know why you think that. 

 “That is baseless and an unfounded assumption,” he defends himself, because he may be receptive, but he is also a damn good one-night stand. “With that being said, please tell me why you feel that way.”

 “Because I’m crying! And it’s because of you! You and your making of us bare our fucking souls during pillowtalk! Who does that?!” 

 It’s huffy and snippy and you both know you’re being mean just for the sake of it. 

 With lips pressed into a tight, smile-proof line, Seo-joon nods easily; agreeable and understanding.

 He knows you’re fragile and that you’re tired– so he chooses not to voice how he considers what you talked about very surface level. How he thinks you may be more hurt and affected by whatever took place between you and this guy than you even realize yet. How he feels like you still have so much to work through, so much to learn.

 Seo-joon lets you win and reminds himself that, right now, it’s not his job to help you soothe the things that hurt or fix the things that are broken. Reminds himself that you’re smart enough to figure stuff out on your own.  

 There’s a brief lull in the conversation that’s not as awkward or tense as it probably should be.

 You sniffle. Then you hiccup.

 And Seo-joon laughs, loud and brash and fond as he leans towards you. He gives you what feels like a platonic kiss on your forehead. 

 “Can I get your number?”

 ~~~

 It’s an early Thursday morning in late January and Jeongguk is feeling troubled. Plagued, if you will, as he towels off after his morning shower. Plagued with the ever-growing, ever-evolving urge to check up on you. To see how you’re doing.

 Lurking, as Taehyung calls it, doesn’t happen all that often. Jeongguk makes a point to not let himself do it daily. Or even weekly. It was his New Year’s resolution, in fact. That being said, it’s been exactly 12 days since he’s used his friend’s 8-year-old son’s instagram account to see what you’ve been up to.

 Typically, he can talk himself out of the sudden notion. Put it off until he forgets, or just doesn’t feel he needs to so badly anymore. Currently, however, he’s blaming his inability to nix the restlessness in his fingertips on the fact that he hasn’t had Nari around to keep him busy. It’s been a long week.

 Because Jeonggk’s been doing his best to keep himself from opening your page for what feels like days. Resisting the pesky pull even though he doubts you’ve even posted. Out of the times he’s given in over the last few weeks, he thinks you’ve posted maybe once. And it was just a picture of some clouds at that– vaguely heart-shaped, wispy, white puffs against sky-blue. The caption was just two emojis, the wind-face lady next to the white heart. 

 So frankly, even though he’s not exactly keen on how strong and itchy the urge to check on you is– he’s also not exactly sure why he’s fighting it. Not when merely scratching it isn’t going to change anything. 

 After shrugging on his work blazer, Jeongguk admits defeat– his inner demons having won yet again. He resigns to apathetic, easily accepted complacency as he swipes through the pages on his home screen till he gets to the very last one that houses the small, sunset-colored camera app. He figures he should probably just get it over with.  

 As he touches the application open, Jeongguk reasons that he’s just been putting off the inevitable– that he knows an itch can’t be ignored and that it won’t be quelled until it’s scratched or soothed. Tells himself that a quick peek before heading out for work won’t matter.

 As he clicks on the mini magnifying glass at the bottom of the screen, Jeongguk reminds himself of lurking’s insignificance. Thinks back to all the times he’s done it before and how it never made a difference. 

 As he sorts through the random selection of 8-year-old boy searches till he finds your user in the mix, he reassures himself that checking on you won’t do anything but alleviate the nagging in the back of his head and the tingling in his fingertips. 

 As he taps your profile, he convinces himself that lurking will be relieving and nothing more.

 As Jeongguk sees that you have posted, he realizes that this time, lurking does matter and that he is so very stupid for assuming it would bring him relief.

 The picture is blurry, not unlike a handful of others he’s seen on your feed. 

 But the setting captured is new. The pink-tinted lighting isn’t familiar, and neither is the purple and blue hues. The crowd you captured is much more… abundant than what he’s become accustomed to seeing when he pulls up your page. 

 Jeongguk scans the photo for just a bit longer and then swipes to the next one in the post. This one is the final stupid nail in the coffin of Jeongguk’s stupid demise. The couple shot glasses grouped together in blurry cheers are all the confirmation he needs to know exactly where you were. His eyes flick to your caption, and then his features pull into a pensive frown with furrowed brows.

 BUT FOUR DRINKS IM WASTED !! 

 Jeongguk taps open the comments.

 flickthebinna: you’ve had exactly two (2) shots

ocstagram: i am Wasted !! 🤬

jadedjade: can u let her be wasted and focus on getting our drinks @flickthebinna 🤨

 He can’t help but chuckle at your and your friends’ interactions, but as he closes the app he catches himself doing a certain habit of his. The little tick where he tilts his head and juts his jaw out quickly. His telltale sign of irritation.

 Irritated with himself, of course. Partly because of the obvious. The spying (from a child’s social media account nonetheless), the moping that he’s been doing for months, the procrastinating and avoiding that’s been going on for almost just as long. 

 But also because he feels so embarrassingly immature for allowing what he finds out from the spying to affect him so deeply. It seems so very juvenile to get this worked up over an instagram post. 

 He’s irritated at the emotional rush and the way his hands are shaking. At the way his mind is jumping to conclusions and conjuring up all sorts of sour scenarios. He’s irritated with himself for the way unwarranted jealousy burns in his chest. 

 The irritation stews; sits in the passenger seat as he makes the drive to work– right next to the sudden instinct to act on a restless whim. The irritation festers; accompanies the worsening impulsive urge that makes it hard to think and ultimately pushes him to make a wrong turn. 

 The irritation is only sated when he pulls up to a curb and his car comes to a stop. 

 Jeongguk’s irritated with himself for a lot of things. But mostly because it took him so long to get here.

 ~~~

 He’s not sure why he anticipated you answering the door. Karma wouldn’t be so kind, and he wouldn’t be so lucky. Obviously.

 “And why the fuck are you here?” This is how Binna greets him, after taking him in with a groggy, borderline bored stare. 

 With a wince, Jeongguk tries, “Hi Binna–”

 “Don’t you have a job?” she interrupts, the volume of her tone increasing with every word. “Aren’t you so busy? So busy, in fact, that it’s so hard to find the time for–”

 He opens his mouth to try and get a word in but stops abruptly. So does Binna when she feels a soft hand on her shoulder, and hears a grumpy ‘Why are you being so loud?’.

 Right in front of him, you’re still half-asleep. Drowsily using the sleeve of the oversized sweatshirt you’re wearing to rub over your face tiredly. Seeing as he decided to show up at a little past 8 in the morning.  

 After a few slow, dreamy blinks, you direct your attention to Jeongguk and he feels like he can’t breathe.

 It’s unconscious, how his lips turn up a smidge when he really sees you for the first time in what feels like forever. When he sees the warmth that lives inside of you color your skin with the softest, natural flush. 

 Jeongguk is still so jealous. 

 He watches you and he studies you. Now that he’s not relying on his memories or the pictures in his camera roll or the ones on your socials– he’s trying to pick out what’s the still same; how you’ve changed. Your hair is a bit longer, a shade or two darker as well. Maybe it’s the big hoodie you’ve got on, but you look smaller than he remembers. In his chest, he feels his heart tug but he can’t dwell on it too much as he refocuses on your features beginning to stir. 

 They shift from dazedly blank to shocked, as if your still-sleepy brain has just now registered him being there, and the smallest gasp sounds from your lips. Then an expression that’s a cross between confused and angry takes the place of prior surprise. The doe-ish look becomes sharp and stern; your narrowed eyes are framed above by scrunched brows and below by shadowy circles. Your mouth goes from slack with your plush lips barely parted, to pouty and pursed in a deep frown.

 Jeongguk knows he should say something. 

 Explain. 

 Say sorry. 

 Ask for forgiveness. 

 But he feels mute, like his heart is stuck in his throat. Like he can’t do anything but stand there and hope you show him a little bit of undeserved grace. That you give him a moment, and then another, to get himself together. Even though he’s had too many moments already to do exactly that.

 In the few seconds that go by you shoo your roommate, and after she’s gone, your face changes once again. Softening just enough to not be so harsh. You stand in your doorway as he flounders and you watch with intent, almost curious, anticipation. And Jeongguk doesn’t want to be too optimistic– but he thinks there might be a hint of relief, an inkling of eager, hopeful expectation hiding in the way you’re looking at him. 

 As if you’ve been waiting for him; wanting him– and now he’s finally here; almost yours. 

 He’s so caught up in that –the minute chance of reconciliation that he only thinks he caught a glimpse of– that he doesn’t get out of his head until the movement of your shoulders slumping, and your chest deflating rips him out of it. 

 Jeongguk would prefer the air your demeanor carried just moments ago. The quiet, masked hopefulness you gave off before you made yourself smaller and breathed that tiny, dejected sigh. God, he would even take the calloused, puzzled hostility you had when you first realized it was him in standing in your doorway. Anything over how you look currently.

 Definitely disappointed, maybe a little bit embarrassed, and just so sad. 

 It’s what he expected, at least to some extent. He’s foolish, but he can only fool himself so much. There’s a limit on how many fantasies of effortless forgiveness he can have before he has to face reality. 

 Jeongguk knew you would be sad, and he knew you would be disappointed. He was ready to take responsibility for the role he played because he was so sure that it would be his fault.

 But what makes how you’re looking at him right now so awful, so unbearable– is that you’re looking at him like it has nothing to do with him. 

 You don’t look disappointed in him. You don’t look sad because of him. 

 It looks internal, so personal. 

 Like you’re sad because you naively allowed yourself to hope– let it glimmer, shining so obvious in your eyes. Only for the brightness to dim, snuffed out by the foolishness that so often goes hand in hand with naivety. 

 Like you’re sad because as soon as you saw him, you had expectations– preconceived notions about how it would go when he came back, how he would act. Only to learn that with enough preconceived notions, you can turn expectations into daydreams.

 Maybe that’s why you look a little embarrassed, too. Because you so quickly let yourself hope, like a child who hasn’t learned from their mistakes. Because you immediately conjured up expectation-disguised daydreams of Jeongguk. Still, after all this time. After everything he’s done, you still expected good from him. 

 You look like you’re disappointed in yourself, not him, because you should have known better.

 He doesn’t find his voice until you’re shaking your head like he’s let you down. Until you’re turning away from him and edging the door closed.

 “I’m sorry!”

 Jeongguk blurts the words out, and he didn’t say much but his chest is heaving and he’s got this frantic way about him and a panicky feeling flooding his veins. When you look up, surprise flashes across your face, but it’s gone in an instant and is replaced by incredulous anger. Like you can’t believe him. 

 Despite your trying to stand your ground and hold his gaze, a gleam still shines in your eyes.

 “I am,” he assures breathlessly, his eyes darting across your face, “I’m so sorry, ___. And–”

 When Jeongguk tells you he misses you, he notices how you almost flinch. How your eyes snap shut tightly –like you can feel his words, but still aren’t sure if they’re real or if they’re true; like you’re scared of finding out– and the heavy tears pooling on your lashline finally spill over. 

 As the salty droplets drip down the apples of your cheeks, Jeongguk feels an ache that hurts so badly that it’s visceral. Like if he could crack open his chest, he could get a hand on the it and just rip the pain out and make it go away. If only that was the case. 

 “I–” you start, but your voice gives out. You clear your throat with a small cough, and talk to the ground because it’s easier to talk to than him. “Maybe we’re better like this, Gguk.”

 Jeongguk’s heart drops, and it’s a struggle to get out even just a whispered a plea of your name.

 When you speak up this time, you force your eyes to meet his. Your brows are upturned and your bottom lip quivers for just a second before you take a deep, self-soothing, breath and school your features into a facade of indifference and resolve. 

 “I hope Nari’s been okay. And you. I hope you’ve been okay, too.”

 Jeongguk’s brows furrow. He’s confused but gives you an unsteady nod. “She– she’s good, yeah.”

 You scan his face, trying to keep your own expression neutral. But how he only mentions Nari and not himself doesn’t evade you. A faint heartache murmurs in your chest, but you mimic his nod. “That’s good. I’m glad–”

 “What about you? Have you been okay?”

 Jeongguk’s words come out overhasty and too eager. But after such a long time of replaying old dialogues in his head– talking to you just feels so nice. He doesn’t want to stop, even if the conversation feels stilted and trivial. He’s still going to hang on to every little marginal thing you say, and he’s still going to do his best to keep the empty words flowing between you.

 He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath while he awaits your answer. Not until he hears you say, “Yeah, I’m happy, I think” and the air inside his lungs vacates. Making room for a thick cloud of melancholy that isn’t surprising, but still makes it hard to breathe all the same. 

 Guilt mingles with the suffocating hurt because you being happy shouldn’t make him sad.  

 But then you smile and Jeongguk responds with a frown and a skeptical shake of his head. 

 Because the smile– it’s so fake, so unconvincingly artificial and staged that when it turns your eyes to half moons and causes their corners to crinkle– it also forces a fresh wave of tears to tumble down your cry-flushed cheeks. 

 He doesn’t believe you, but that’s no surprise. You’ve never been a good liar.

 A dim, defeated laugh putters from your lips. Trying to portray nonchalance, you give him a weak, half-hearted shrug, like you know you’ve been caught but it can’t be helped.

 He knows it hurts you to dismiss him. He can hear it in your shaky, wispy tone when you say, “Take care, Gguk.”

 Take care Gguk.

 Jeongguk knows it’s a ‘goodbye’. A goodbye that he’s having trouble processing. 

  It feels like a lifetime, but really it’s only a few seconds that Jeongguk stands there trying to make sense of your words. It’s only a few more before the door closes on him. 

 Jeongguk couldn’t process the goodbye, but the telltale click of the door locking somehow makes perfect sense.

 ~~~

 Like you are the starlet of your very own coming of age, lifetime, hallmark romance drama– you don’t let yourself cry until your back is pressed against the closed door. Then you cover your mouth to keep quiet as you slide down the wood.

 The moment is short-lived. 

 “Where’s Jeongguk?”

 The voice seemingly comes from nowhere, and you jump slightly before swearing and directing your puffy, bloodshot eyes at your roommates. They both have their head peeking out from behind the kitchen wall. Nosy.

 “What do you mean ‘where’s Jeongguk?’” you groan, knocking your head back against the wood.

 Binna and Jade exchange a look. 

 “Are you guys like… not gonna… talk?”

 You slow blink at them a single time.

 An awkward quiet permeates the pumpkin-spice-scented air of your shared home. It’s not even Fall anymore. 

 “Well,” Binna starts, and then cuts herself off like she spoke before she knew what she wanted to say. She elbows your other housemate. “Jade?”

 Jade gives you an instinctive, reactionary smile that’s far too big. “I mean… communication is key… right? And that’s mainly what was lacking before? Talking now could give you the oppurtunity to say all the things you’ve been wanting to. And maybe he can explain his side–”

 Binna raises a hand to cut her off, “Too much credit, he is still a man.”

 “Fair but–”

 The two bicker for a bit before looking at you again.

 “Wait, did you not want to work things out?” 

 You roll your eyes. “Of course I wanted to.”

 “Of course you did,” Jade agrees easily. 

 “Of course you did,” Binna mimics before groaning and asking, “So why the hell is he not here, and why the hell are you not talking and ‘working things out’?” 

 Crossing your arms, your posture becomes defensive. “Wouldn’t that be too easy? Like he shows up at my door after all these months of virtual silence and I just let him in? Aren’t I supposed to make him grovel and cry and beg?” 

 “You have to let the man speak for him to be able to grovel and cry and beg, I’m afraid…” Binna informs.

 The narrowing of your eyes is the simple response she gets. Only because Jade speaks up before you can.

 “You know…” Jades starts, then ponders momentarily. “If it was you that showed up at his house out of the blue at 8 in the morning on a weekday? Then yeah,” she nods to herself, “I would say that it was too easy for him. But he came back to you. And just talking to him?” she shakes her head, “That’s not forgiving him. He still has a lot of work to do– and you should make him prove himself. Prove that he’s grown and changed,” Jade says before she gives you a gentle smile. “But him knocking on the door was also him taking the first step.”

 He came back to you.

 It’s what you wanted. But now that it’s happening, you have no clue what to do next. 

 You don’t know what to say. Are you supposed to lie and tell him you’re thankful that he pushed you away; that it helped you realize that he was right? That you are too young? That you’re happier without him, better off being free like he wanted you to be? 

 Or do you tell him the truth? Do you tell him about how hard it was without him? About how painful it was to go from having so much of him, all of the time– to not having none of him at all, ever? Do you come clean about how hollow and lost being alone made you feel? Do you tell him about how much it hurt every time you thought about how all it took was a few words from his ex– and you were gone; cut out so easily and carelessly? Do you admit that it still hurts to remember?

 You don’t know what to do. Do you resist the fight you’re expected to make him put up? Or do you not fight it much at all and welcome him with a second chance and a fresh start? Do you pretend like you didn’t miss him? Like you didn’t fantasize about him coming back? That you didn’t look for pieces of him everywhere you went; in everybody you met? 

 You don’t know how to feel. Happy because he came to you? Sad that it took so long? Scared because him coming back is just another chance for him to leave again?

 You were already crying, but the trickle of tears grows steadier. The sleeve of your sweatshirt is swiped angrily at your eyes, the light grey material dampened a few shades darker. 

 “Bro,” you cry, “I can’t even look at him without crying, I’m not gonna be able to talk to him. It hurts too bad.”

 Jade looks down at you, gives you a pity pout. “If it’s any consolation, I think he will cry too.”

 Binna agrees with a sympathetic nod of her head. “He’s probably hurting just like you, but it’s what he deserves.

 “___,” Jades speaks up again, “It doesn’t have to be so– painstaking. Like you don’t have to drive yourself mad thinking about what you should do. Just do what you want to do. If you want to talk to him, then talk to him.” She shrugs like it’s really that simple.

 And maybe it is. 

 ~~~

 It definitely isn’t.

 Because if it was, you would not have opened with, quote, ‘I let you put your finger in my ass’, unquote. 

 And Jeongguk wouldn’t have replied with a slow, painfully dumb sounding: ‘I– yes… I remember…?’

 You don’t even really know how it happened. 

 One second you’re hit with a burst of inspired adrenaline and then the next you’re knocking the wind out of both you and Jeongguk by barreling into his chest. The collision must have knocked the sense out of you, too. It’s the only explanation for your behavior. 

 All the same, the blame can’t be entirely yours– Jeongguk has to take some of it. He was standing directly outside of your door, after all. He claims he was working up the courage to knock again but that’s beside the point.

 You keep your thoughts to yourself, as you pretend not to catch the way that he rolls his lips between his teeth to keep a smile off his face when you lead him into your room and slyly try to kick a few things under your bed. A stuffed animal, a bra. A few too many socks.

 It’s a stupid attempt to make your space look a little more tidy and less like you’ve been rotting in it for the last few months. The room’s not too messy by any means; definitely not unkempt enough for you to feel embarrassed or like you need to straighten it up to impress him. But you hope he chalks it up to your nerves getting the best of you.

 He’s nervous, too. If how awkward he’s being is anything to go by. 

 Just standing at the foot of your bed with his hands in his pockets while you situate yourself in front of your headboard. He doesn’t take a seat until you pat the mattress a little, letting him know it’s okay and that you want him to. 

 There’s a quiet hush that fills the space. It’s slightly tense, but it’s not entirely uncomfortable; stilted but somehow familiar. 

 You’re sitting with one leg dangling and a pillow in your lap. It’s hugged to your chest. Perhaps a make-shift shield to put something between you and Jeongguk. Fiddling with a loose pillowcase string helps you avoid eye contact by making you look occupied.

 Jeongguk’s sat before you, stiff and looking down at the floor between his feet. Similarly evading your gaze just like you’re doing with his. He’s clenching and unclenching his hands, rubbing his palms restlessly over the material of his slacks. 

 Thinking back, Jeongguk feels like he did so much of the talking that night in his living room. Probably too much, if he’s being honest. He feels he never really gave you the time to say your side or a proper chance to explain yourself. 

 So this time, he wants to let you do most of the talking. Let you be the one to initiate, at the very least. He wants to give you all the time you need to start the discussion how and when you want, with what you want and feel has precedence.

 Jeongguk stays patient right up until you say in a huff, “Well say something, I’m obviously not good at this.”

 His lips twitch at your stubborn, slightly irritated tone. 

 “You’re the one that showed up at my house when I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be at work, so,” you wave your hand at him, indicating you want him to get on with it. “Must have something important to say.”  

 The small laugh he allows himself is barely a chuckle, but it tumbles from his lips before he can stop it. Blames it on instinct and the simple fact that he just misses you. 

 “It is important,” he confirms, giving into your bait and starting the conversation for you. He considers staying quiet, getting another little reaction out of you, but he reminds himself that this isn’t the time for that. If he plays his cards right, maybe then he’ll be able to joke with you. But as of now, that’s not his place anymore.

 Shifting to face you a little more, so that when he says, “I wanted to apologize to you, ___,” you have his full attention.

 When he speaks, you don’t look at him. Instead, you only give him the faintest nod with your eyes cast down. Still fixed on the pillow in your lap. But Jeongguk notices how your lashes flutter quickly before you press your eyelids together tightly; just like you did earlier when he said that he missed you. 

 Your shoulders lift when you take a deep inhale, and your face is more or less neutral when your eyes meet his. 

 “It’s been months,” you tell him. 

 As if he doesn’t know. As if he hasn’t been driving himself mad day in and day out trying to muster up the courage to do precisely this; as if time doing what time does hasn’t been the bane of his existence. Because with each passing day, he knew he was that much closer to going from ‘it’s been so long’ to ‘it’s been too long’. He’s all too aware of just how long it’s been. 

 Regardless, he doesn’t want to give you excuses; choosing to be easily agreeable. He offers a small tilt of his head as acknowledgment. 

 “Why now?” you question him.

 Jeongguk tries to keep the sadness off of his face when he hears how you sound. 

 The tone of your voice is unsure; hurt. But the pain is elusive. Only heard when your subtle heartache peeks through the veil of composure you’re trying to hide behind.

 While he racks his mind for a worthy explanation, his eyes scan yours. Overflowing with so many different emotions and so expressive just like he remembers. 

 “I wish–” he begins, “I wish that I could tell you that I’ve been working toward this for ages and that I thought through all the steps and knew exactly what I wanted to say to you…” He gives a small self-deprecating chuckle, “But I can’t tell you that. After earlier, it’s clear that I didn’t have any idea or plan,” he offers you his bared palms. “I wish I had a good reason for ‘why now’, but I don’t.”

 Your brows furrow with affronted confusion. Jeongguk speaks up before you can.

 “That’s not to say that I haven’t been thinking about this since you left–”

 “I didn’t leave, you got rid of me–”

 The correction is hissed before you snap your mouth shut like you didn’t mean to say it. But you don’t take the words back and Jeongguk can’t control his expression this time. His face falls and he sighs as he looks down at the pattern on his pants. 

 “I’ve been thinking about this since I told you to leave,” he tries again, slowly. When you don’t comment again after a small pause, he continues, “but I wasn’t actively figuring out how to do it. I’ve come to learn that plans are essentially useless, so planning out what to say to you seemed pointless. In hindsight, it just made me look stupid,” he muses.

 “Honestly, having you on a constant loop in my mind wasn’t intentional; I didn’t want that,” Jeongguk admits. But he doesn’t even chance a glance, not keen to see your worsening scowl. “Remembering you just made me so miserable? Like, thinking about you all the time made me miss you all the time. And missing you made me so fucking sad– like the kind of sad you can feel? Like it hurt to think about you. But you never left my head, so the hurt never went away…”

 Jeongguk’s words slowly come to halt, his cheeks reddening to a bright cherry when he realizes that he’s rambling. As he’s mentally trying to dull his blush to something more faint and less conspicuous, he notes that your expression changed. You still look a bit angry, but now, there’s a pastel hue. A soft, muted sadness toning down the harshness. 

 He stumbles a little when he says, “I– Truthfully– I guess the–” Then he takes a quick, staccato breath mid-sentence to get himself together. “I guess the most truthful explanation for why I took so long is… avoidance? And guilt? Fear?” 

 When he frustratedly combs a hand through his hair, he pretends not to notice how it’s shaking. And he’s grateful that you don’t mention it when you track his movement. 

 The conversation gets stuck in a momentary limbo while Jeongguk thinks about what he said. It’s the truth. He was scared before– it’s what got him in this mess and it’s what kept him away for weeks too long. But he’s still scared. Despite getting the most intimidating part over with –actually coming to you after finally working up the nerve to– the fear of fucking up still hasn’t waned. 

 He’s still just as scared as he was. 

 Scared of saying the wrong thing. Of not being able to put what he feels into the right words. Of not being able to convey how truly fucking sorry he is for hurting you, how much he regrets it. He’s scared of hurting you again. Scared of you not forgiving him for the first time he did. 

 He is still just as scared of lying in the bed that he made.

 Jeongguk digs his fingertips into his thighs and his nails are dull, but he does it hard enough for a minute pang of discomfort to still be felt. He makes himself puff out a lame chuckle. It sounds strained and resembles a scoff more than anything, but he’s trying to lighten the mood; make the air in the room lighter and easier to breathe. 

 “I’m sorry,” he says on the tail end of the scoffing chuckle, shaking his head lightly. His voice has a light waver, shaky due to his nerves. “I– I’m just–”

 When he feels your small hand settle over the one he has working into his leg, his head whips up quickly and a reactive reflex almost has him pulling his hand away.

 But he stops himself before, and he’s so happy he does. Because when the initial shock wears off, your touch feels good. Familiar and comforting. He’s happy he catches himself because your touch feels nice and when he looks up from it, he gets to see you. 

 It’s like you stopped hiding and came out from behind that veil. Or maybe it’s an accident and you just forgot to keep it up. Either way, it doesn’t matter because he gets to see you watching him so artlessly, so openly honest. With a look that feels like a reminder. 

 A reminder that your heart has always been so soft, so sweet– that it still is. Softer than the hand you have settled gently over his and sweeter than its touch when you coax his own into being gentle, too, but with himself. A reminder that you’ve always been soft, sweet– that you still are. You look at him –softly; sweetly– like you’re reminding him that you’re still you. 

 It makes his eyes water and he has to look away. The thin, pinstripes on his slacks blur together, blending into thick lines as unshed tears muddle his vision.

 “It’s okay, you can–” he hears you tell him, starting hushedly. You sound hesitant, like you’re not sure if you want to finish. “I… want to know what you’re trying to say. So– you can take your time... I’ll wait for you.” 

 And if someone asked Jeongguk to describe the ache that fills his chest at your words– he would tell them that it hurts like he imagines the kindest, most tender, undeserved compassion would.

 “It took me so long because I was a coward, ___,” he says quietly. But the word is spat from his mouth like something foul. “I was so scared of feeling the hurt and facing the guilt that came when I thought about you; what I did to you–” Shame runs through his veins and he shakes his head at how spineless he was– unable to face the consequences of his own actions. It’s humiliating to remember. 

 He’s still talking down to his lap when he admits, “I– just avoided it altogether. I was so busy trying to keep it away that I didn’t give much thought to owning up to everything. I didn’t even know where to begin or how to go about fixing things with you.” 

 Jeongguk’s not crying yet. With that being said, his vision is still bleary and his eyes are red-rimmed from fighting the stubborn tears. He turns the hand he still has underneath yours palm-up. Covers yours with his other on top. Your tiny hand sandwiched between his big ones. He tilts his head back, blinks the wet in his eyes away.

 “I wanted to so badly, though,” he tells you, bringing himself to look at you, “To fix things with you. To just try with you. It took me way too long to understand something that should have been common sense: That things don’t always happen the way you plan for them to; That pieces don’t just fall into place just because you want them to. If I want something… It takes effort to make it happen. I have to work for it and try my best to put the pieces where they belong.”

 Jeongguk gives you a small smile and your hand a little squeeze. “I needed someone’s help to figure some things out,” he rolls his eyes playfully, almost fondly exasperated by the memory. “Like how to start altering the way I think and how to stop with all the wallowing and self-commiseration. How to stomach self-reflection. But when it finally clicked and I really got it? Fixing things with you was the only thing I wanted to do.” 

 There’s a tiny flicker of something coming back. A sanguine glimmer replaces the chagrin in Jeongguk’s eyes and you try to mirror it, reflect it back to him. Because the things he’s saying all sound so good. Perfect and promising and like everything you could have hoped for. 

 But when he says the thing about needing someone’s help? Anything he said before gets repressed. Unclear and hard to recall, as if his words are stuck inside a wayward memory. Anything he says after is indistinct. Muffled and hard to hear, as if there’s water stuck inside your ears. Similar to the rot that’s stuck inside your heart; ugly and hard to get rid of. 

 Such a gross, sickly feeling suddenly comes over you. 

 It takes so much effort to swallow it down. The green-washed insecurity that’s wanting to crawl up your throat and out your mouth. Masquerading as untrusting accusations that will make you seem paranoid. Heartsick questions that will leave you too vulnerable. 

 Who was it? Was it her? Was Dasom the one who helped you?

 Of course, she’s going to be a sore spot and you know that. But the thoughts fluster you and catch you a little off guard because it’s not like you to think like that. 

 It’s never been like you to be paranoid. To feel so self-conscious and easily threatened. You’ve never been the type to chastise. To interrogate, or pry. To accuse, or assume. 

 The doubt came from out of nowhere– crept its way into your head during a brief lapse of emotional awareness and into your heart when it erringly opened and was left unguarded. At first, quieting the intrusive thoughts and dispelling the negative feelings was a challenge. But in the end, you managed and it was fleeting and passed quickly.  

 Shaking the residual embarrassment that follows the bad thoughts and emotions, is much more difficult. 

 Unlike the momentary doubt, the sudden flash of insecurity that it comes with is so intense that it lingers, so strong that it fogs your head. It distractingly hangs out in the back of your mind making it hard to focus.

 It takes a few moments longer before you’re able to suppress it and push it down, down, down. Down far enough that you’ll be able to forget about it. At least for a short while, you’ll be able to convince yourself that the feelings won’t come back because it’s just not like you. 

 Wanting to omit it altogether, you gather your composure and fully give Jeongguk your attention again. You give him a small but genuine smile and wiggle your fingers that are still between his hands. 

 He smiles back softly, while you sit quietly. You’re working to piece together the things he said while you were lost in your head, trying to come up with a decent response. 

 “I was scared too,” you reveal quietly, “The whole time I was scared.” 

 “Will you tell me what you were scared of?”

 “There were so many things, Gguk.” You don’t tell him that there still are. Jeongguk nods attentively. You gingerly untangle your hand from his, catching his eyes before looking around your room. 

 “The finger thing was a really bad example,” you begin trying to explain. You shake your head with a sheepish smile, embarrassed and horrified at your past self. “and it wasn’t the actual act. It was more of what it meant that was scary for me? Like the fact that I let you do something that I always swore I would never let anyone do? Ever.”

 Laughing lightly, you think back on all of the times that your friends would make jokes. How they always told you that there would be a time that you would be horny enough to let it happen. The times when they had more class and said it was fine if you never wanted to and never did, but that they still thought you would end up giving in one day. For the right person, you would. 

 But you always remained adamant– so sure that nobody would ever make the act appealing enough, that nobody would ever make you feel comfortable enough with them for you to allow them to touch you like that or see you like that. 

 “But then I met you.”

 Jeongguk’s brows furrow slightly, like he doesn’t quite understand. But he just stays quiet and nods again, waiting for you to continue. And honestly, you can’t blame him. Anal should never be such a serious topic or something that feels like such a pivotal point in a relationship. You certainly wish that it wasn’t. 

 But alas.

 “All it took was a couple of months… Just a few soft touches and some dreamy words and I was putty in your hands.” Your hands that are folded lightly in your lap open up to show your palms before they squeeze shut into tight fists. “I feel like I would’ve done anything for you; anything you asked me to.”

 His features fall, and the expression he wears is laced with so much guilt. “Wait– Did I… make you feel like you had to do certain things?”

 You can’t help but smile at his concern as you shake your head sadly. “No, no… nothing like that– I always wanted to.”

 Jeongguk frowns, not certain of how truthful you’re being.

 Promising him that you’re not lying, you elaborate. “That’s part of why it was scary for me, I think. There was just something about you that made me so…I don’t know, willing? So yours?”

 The admission makes pesky pinpricks of tears sting the backs of your eyes. “And I was. I was so yours the whole time even though you weren’t mine–”

 “I was–” Jeongguk chimes softly. Interrupting, if only for the sake of trying to convince you.

 “Not really,” you argue. The tone you use comes across as somewhat detached. Like you’re just stating a fact. 

 Using the silence that nestles between you as an opportunity to think, you consider what you’re wanting to tell him. How vulnerable you’re willing to get. Your mouth opens before you feel like you’ve even made your decision.

 “I knew you liked me,” you acknowledge because you don’t want to be unfair, “but part of me always wondered: ‘how much does he?’ and ‘for how long will he?’. I was already scared that I was just a phase for you. Before Dasom ever said it.”

 Jeongguk tenses just a touch at the mention of his ex and you pretend not to notice, continuing with, “So when she said that I was just something you needed to get out of your system and you didn’t defend me? God, Jeongguk,” you get out, eyes squeezing shut. Wincing at the ghost of pain the memory brings back. “That hurt so much.”

 Despite your wanting to look him in the eye and come off strong while you relay how his actions made you feel; it’s impossible. Despite wanting to seem as though you’ve healed and grown and matured and like it just doesn’t hurt so bad anymore; you can’t face him.

 “And then everything happened so quickly?” you continue before he can get a word in, your words coming out rushed and frantic, “It felt like you didn’t even think about it, and like it was just so easy for you to let me go? Like I really was nothing just like she said–”

 He can’t stop himself from reaching out and quieting you when he hears the way your voice breaks. Jeongguk doesn’t want you to cry, not sure he could handle it if you did. Your hands are in your lap still, clenched together, so he rests a palm on your knee. 

 “___,” he says gently, “I need you to believe me when I tell you that none of that is true.”

 You keep talking like you don’t hear him.

 “It almost seemed like you were already over it, bored of me. And her saying those things was a convenient way to– ” you shake your head before sighing. “I was always scared that you’d end up getting tired of me, that you would stop wanting me and just get rid of me. And after what she said, it felt like you finally did. Like you used her words as an excuse so you could finally leave me.”

 “That’s not true, baby,” he reiterates, tongue slipping as he tries to console you again

 At the pet name you look up. Your red-rimmed eyes locking with his. 

 He stutters a bit as he backtracks, barely able to get out a stiff apology. 

 And your lips pull down in a deep frown, and your brows turn up confusedly. “You said you wanted to… fix things with me?”

 Jeongguk’s lips part, dim surprise taking over his face before he breathes a small yes.

 “I want that too,” you breathe back, “but I’m still so afraid Jeongguk.”

 “I know, I know you are– I am too–”

 “Not like me,” you counter, “You may be scared, but you’re not scared like me. You can’t be scared like me.” 

 Your words come out sharper than intended, too emotional for the facade you’re trying to portray. But you don’t dwell on the tone of your voice. Nor do you dwell on the brief ire that flickers in Jeongguk’s eyes. 

 “I’m scared that I’ll never catch up to you. You won’t ever know what that feels like because you’ll never be the one that’s worried about falling behind– you’re the one that’s ahead of the curve. I’m scared that I’m not good enough for you and Nari– that I can’t be. You have no reason to be scared of that.” 

 The fight to keep your voice level and in control dwindles. Every ounce of your pain can be heard as you let out the burdensome ache in your heart, little by little. 

 Each word is heavier than the last when you ask Jeongguk, “Why would you be afraid of not being good enough for someone who never made you question it?” 

 Jeongguk flinches. Visibly recoils as if your words are abrasive enough to hurt. 

 Which is what you wanted. You wanted to hurt him, but it doesn’t make you feel better like you anticipated. If anything his reaction makes your pain ricochet right back at you. Hurting him, hurting you.

 And then you consider that perhaps, you didn’t truly want him to hurt– that you might have just wanted him to be aware. To know what you’re scared of; how it hurts to be scared.  

 “Maybe you are scared, too,” you amend, “Maybe there are even a few things that we’re both afraid of… but being scared isn’t something we have in common.”

 The hurt from before is replaced by barely-hidden defensiveness. Jeongguk does try to hide it as he listens to you, though. You give him credit for that.

 “Being scared that you’ll realize that I actually am just some stupid kid that doesn’t know what she wants, exactly like you thought, is a very specific fear,” you try to explain. “I’m scared that one day you’ll look at me but you won’t see me anymore– you’ll see a mistake that could have been avoided if you never came back. That I’ll cross your mind. But instead of thinking fondly… you’ll end up thinking about how you wish you had just stuck by your decision when you said you wouldn’t let me stay.”

 A defensive urge to argue the validity of his feelings comes naturally– he’s only human. His emotional side finds it unfair of you to determine, decide, and define his fears but the irony of the situation dawns on his logical side just as quickly. 

 The fact that you’re speaking to him in a manner that mirrors how he spoke to you all those months ago, doesn’t escape him. Instead, the similarities make him stop and think. Something he regrets not doing that night in his living room. 

 He concludes that arguing with you would be pointless. He knows you’re right and it doesn’t take him long to realize. 

 Yeah, Jeongguk’s scared. But just like you said– he’s not scared like you. Not scared of what you’re scared of. Jeongguk’s fears are more or less internal and he’s had a few of them for most of his adult life, since he became a father. Some of the fears may concern you in some way or another, but none of them manifested because of you or something you did or things you said. 

 He’s scared, but he’ll never be scared like you. Not when the things you’re afraid of only exist because of him. 

 The thought of it never going away, of you never being the same or free of the ache he caused, even after the insecurities and fears are dug up by the root– it makes Jeongguk feel like he’s going to be sick. 

 “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” you end up saying after a few moments of watching Jeongguk struggle to get words out. “And I know you regret it. You showing up here proves that.”

 The small, sad smile you give him is too kind for what he did.

 “I thought I was doing the right thing,” Jeongguk says, “For you, for Nari. I never thought– I’m so sorry, ___.”

 “I know,” you reassure, gently. 

 And you truly do know how sorry Jeongguk is. He obviously doesn’t have the words to express his remorse, but sincerity is written all over his face. His big doe-eyes dark and glassy and so genuine. Full of regret; the longing to go back and undo what can’t be undone. Somehow so full of warmth, just like you remember. 

 “I don’t want to fight anymore,” you say. 

 It doesn’t sound like you’re at your wit’s end or like you feel as if the conversation has reached it’s breaking point. Just sounds like what it means. Like you don’t want to fight. Not with him. Not with yourself. Not with what you’ve been wishing for since you lost it. 

 Jeongguk agrees, nodding. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it a fight. I want you to be able to talk to me about–” He’s flighty, moving his hands all about, like he’s nervous and has too many things he wants to say. “about everything, really. So, I promise, I’ll just listen–”

 You watch him for a few more seconds, letting the corners of your lips turn up just so. Then you reach for his hands, ceasing their movement with your own. 

 “Shush,” you laugh faintly, “There’s still a lot we have to talk about. So much– we can’t get through it all with one conversation. It’s gonna take a lot of them and a long time, probably. But I think we’ve covered the most important stuff, right?”

 You’re aware it’s going to take time to get through the maze of problems you and Jeongguk have created between each other.

 But you can’t help but think about all time that you wasted while making them. 

 And you don’t want to waste even more time by waiting till everything is figured out before you start letting yourself get past it. You don’t want to hinder the process of moving forward by getting lost trying to navigate the maze. Not when you’ve finally made your way back to each other. 

 So while the labyrinth hasn’t been solved, and all your issues haven’t been fixed, at least now, you don’t have to do it alone. You can resolve everything and find a way out together. 

 It’s possible that you’re too willing to push things aside, that you’re too keen to move past it all. That you’re not standing your ground, being too easy and too soft, too quick. That you’re not giving yourself enough time to consider what you haven’t touched on yet. To process what you have. 

 But as you told Jeongguk, you feel like what needed to be addressed has been. With time, everything else will be talked about. Which is enough for you and your eager heart. You don’t want to wait anymore, not when you’ve been waiting so long already.

 Jeongguk’s wearing a flush when you grin at him and he looks down at the pair of your hands, still slightly entangled on your duvet. His thumb rubs softly over your knuckles while he says, “If you’re sure?”

 Vaguely aware of Jeongguk absently toying with your fingers while he awaits your reply, you think it over just for the sake of it and end up remembering something.

 You hum musingly, making sure he can hear the smile you decorate it with. An attempt to diffuse the heavy air in your room till it’s something more buoyant; lighthearted and easier to breathe. You curl your manicured finger around one of his, trapping it briefly before untangling both your hands.

 “Actually,” you start. 

 So very attentive, Jeongguk whips his head up. 

 “Now that I think about it, you told me why it took you so long,” you reflect, “But you didn’t tell me why now.”

 Jeongguk opens his mouth to reply before he’s furrowing his brows, puzzled, pursing his lips into a line. It’s quiet while he thinks.

 A weak, hopeless simper sounds, and he shakes his head while running a hand through his hair. “Again, I wish I had a better answer for you.”

 You roll your eyes and change positions, now sitting criss-cross in front of him. “Okay, well, you didn’t just randomly show up! There had to have been something that made you come now; today.”

 Light, but genuine laughter rings in your room– it starts off sounding like it’s accidental, cut-off chuckles only heard because the person laughing can’t hold it in, and it ends as cute giggles that lilt throughout the space softly. 

 And it’s all Jeongguk’s fault. 

 “No,” he says, around a breathy giggle, “I really did. I probably shouldn’t admit that, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I ended up caving and looking at your–” 

 It’s now your fault that sounds of amusement continue to filter in the air– Jeongguk’s eyes getting wide and his face turning pink is too funny and you can’t not laugh at him.

 He stutters when he tries to backtrack, “Y… Your– pictures? On my phone? In my camera roll?” 

 You narrow your eyes suspiciously, impishly. “Which of my pictures, hmm?”

 The flush coloring his cheeks runs down to his chest, the silver LV pendant of his necklace would probably be warm if you reached out and touched it. He would probably be warm too if you reached out and touched him.

 “No! Oh my god, not those! I did not look at those, okay? Anyway,” he rushes out, “I really was on my way to work! But add a couple of turns and a few steps–” he shrugs, “I guess now because I physically couldn’t keep myself from you any longer? Because then I was at your door and now I’m here. With you.”

 The giggles have finally ceased, and now it’s just your paired breathing that acts as low background noise while you both take the other in.

 “Now you’re here with me,” you repeat softly, with an even softer smile.

 Jeongguk’s eyes drop to your lips for the briefest of moments. He darts his tongue out to wet his own.

 “___. You were right,” he tells you, “It didn’t have to be all or nothing like I thought it did.”

 You nod once.

 “I’m sorry for not listening to you. For deciding for you and not letting you make your own choices. And for not even letting you explain your side that night. For how bad I hurt you and for all the things the hurt caused.”

 “Okay,” you breathe.

 “I should have listened to you.”

 Again, you nod.

 “I should have chosen you.”

 It’s almost instantaneous when tears well in your eyes.

 “But I was so scared of the way I wanted you and how badly I wanted it,” Jeongguk confesses, “I’ve never felt the way I feel about you before. For anybody.”

 Mild confusion makes a home in your eyes.

 He expects it before he sees it stir your features, so he’s not surprised when it appears. He finds himself smiling. Maybe because he’s wanted to tell you that since he realized it. Or maybe he wants to finally do what he should have done the night of the fight, and even before then. 

 Jeongguk smiles at your uncertainty because this time, he gets to make it go away. He gets to reassure you of your place in his life, of how important you are to him. Of how you’re worth trying for. He’s quick to shush you when your lips part to speak. 

 “No one,” he insists, “You’re so different, ___. And I feel so differently for you. I feel different when I’m with you. That’s part of why I was afraid. I was scared to want you because I didn’t know how to have you.”

 Tears are making his eyes gleam, glassy in the morning light that streams through your blinds. Yours are a mirror and you don’t know how you’ve kept the drops from spilling over.

 “I’m still fucking scared,” he admits, “Like you said, we’re both still scared. Because we have no god damn clue how this will turn out. If we’ll even be able to fix it and get back to the way we were. Who might be collateral damage if we can’t. If one of us will end up changing our mind. Or if we’ll end up even better; if we –me and you, together– will be the only thing that we’re sure about.”

 The urge to tell him that you’ve been sure ever since you found his round little bug of a baby in your grocery store is so strong– you think you may burst because of it. Maybe the lovestruck feeling in your chest has gone supernova. 

 “I have no clue about anything other than the fact that I want to be with you, ___.”  

 Let the record show that between you and him, Jeongguk is the one to let the first tear fall during this conversation.

 “I want to try.” 

 “Yeah–”

 “If you’ll let me, I want to try for you. And if you’ll have me, I want to try with you. Because if we don’t at least try– I think I’ll wish that we did forever.”

 When you beam at him and exhale a simple, ‘Okay’ and Jeongguk echoes it, he thinks this is all too easy.

 But then he remembers how everything with you has always been that way. Maybe not too easy, but just right. Concerning you, the hardest thing he’s had to do is be without. 

 He brings your hand to his lips, brushing your knuckles with a sweet, kiss. “I want to be with you,” he tells you again.

 You bite your lip to suppress your smile. “Then be with me.”

 This time he’s the one saying ‘Okay’ and you’re the one echoing.

 Until backtrack with a pout. “What… what am I? Like– to you.”

 “What do you want to be?”

 “Yours.” 

 Your answer is breathed so quickly, like you didn’t even have to think about it to know that’s what you wanted. Like that’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted. How fast you reply gives Jeongguk butterflies. Makes him giddy while he tries to calm himself as he confirms, “Mine,” before he adds quietly, a little shy, “I’ll introduce you as… my girlfriend?”

 Jeongguk is so endeared when you close your eyes, wistful when you ask him to say it again in an airy voice. 

 “My girlfriend,” he whispers, squeezing your hand in his.

 When you open your eyes to look at him and he sees unshed tears heavy on your lashline, his heart pulls in his chest and it breaks a little when you murmur, “I didn’t know if I would ever hear you say that.” 

 “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

 A teardrop escapes the corner of your eye when you shake your head, smiling so sweetly, so happily. Jeongguk’s distracted, just taking it in and getting lost in everything that is you. So much so, that he doesn’t see it coming. Not until your arms are wrapped around his neck, his reflexively coming up to wrap around your waist like muscle memory. 

 Jeongguk takes a deep breath when he has you in his arms, nuzzles his nose into your hair. Pulls you impossibly closer, and he can feel how he squeezes the air out of you when you puff out a dulcet laugh into the crook of his neck. 

 When you bring your hand to the back of his head, the feel of your nails on his scalp and your fingers in his hair is enough to make him sigh, sink into the touch. It’s familiar. Feels like a natural progression, just like the way your cheeks brush when you pull away just slightly, only to come back. Closer this time. 

 His nose bumps yours, and he inhales your shaky sigh. 

 “I…”

 “Yeah?” Jeongguk breathes. 

 The shift is swift. The temperament of the atmosphere smoothly transforms– going from something saccharine and tenderly sentimental to something decadently rich and heavy. The air all at once becomes thick and intoxicatingly heady; plush and ardently warm. 

 The build-up is gradual. At first, the sudden heady note of warmth that makes your room hazy just feels like a blanket. Like it covers softly, tickles the skin lightly. Then it begins to seep in so slowly, gradually, that it’s not noticeable until the heat of it can be felt bone deep. Until fingers shake with the desire to touch. 

 It starts with Jeongguk nosing along your jaw; down the length of your neck when you tilt your head to the side for him. It starts with the occasional, accidental brush of his lips against your skin. It starts with your hand gripping tight in his hair, a subtle try at pulling him in to keep him near. 

 It ends with a kiss.

 Albeit, a fleeting one– but still a kiss nonetheless. 

 Pulling himself back, Jeongguk’s features are tensed. Eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritted as he struggles with himself. He’s rough when he gets a hold of you by your waist. His fingers digging in harshly; almost like he doesn’t realize how he’s handling you. But he’s gentle when pushes you away to put some space between you. 

 “Why–” you whisper, needy, as you bring your palms to cover his grip at your waist. You pet at the backs of his hands, coaxing him into letting them roam. You guide his touch down to your hips when he gives in briefly, encouraging him to touch you.  

 “I don’t know if– Maybe we shouldn’t–” 

 You crowd his space, bringing yourself to your knees and pushing his palms down to where the hem of your too-big sweatshirt grazes high on your bare thigh. Jeongguk groans after he loses his short internal battle. Can’t rob himself of squeezing at the meat of your thighs just for a second before he’s trying to pull his hands from yours.

 He doesn’t get very far because you end up cradling his face in your hands, angling his head up to look at you. And Jeongguk’s always been so easy for you. It’s no surprise how easily he yields to the movement; how easy his eyes slip shut. How easily he parts his lips when your tongue teases the seam; how easy it is to get lost in the taste of you. 

 “Shouldn’t what, Gguk?” you ask in a soft voice. Each word spoken between the kisses you’re trailing down the column of his neck.

 Jeongguk keeps his hands mostly to himself. Awkwardly letting them hover by your sides as he searches his brain, trying to recall the reason why he’s clinging to his resolve. It is so hard though, when you’re right in front of him. So willing and eager to let him have you. He finds himself following your lips when you barely let the plush center graze his cupid’s bow. 

 “Maybe we should… take it slow?” he offers, dazedly. It wasn’t supposed to sound like a question, but Jeongguk can’t help the way his voice carries up at the tail end like he’s not sure that’s really what he wants. 

 A little giggle falls from your lips, puffs hotly over his. And Jeongguk’s never thought you evil before, but right now he’s certain that you are. Because, with wistful mirth still in your voice, all you do is nod like you’re simply humoring him and say, “Yeah, maybe.”

 Then you kiss him again, sighing a delicate, ‘Touch me’ against his lips.

 You bring his awkward hands to your body, placing them on your tits, urging him to cup and squeeze over your sweatshirt. 

 Jeongguk exhales shakily, unable to keep himself from rolling them in his palms. 

 “Yeah,” you whisper, “Please.”

 His hold on your chest turns rough, accidentally letting his pent-up frustration out through his touch and taking it out on you. It doesn’t hurt, not really, but you still whine. Let out a high, airy keen as your eyes slip shut and your head tilts back. 

 There’s no warning. Only Jeongguk’s hands moving to your shoulders, followed by a push and then a tumble, ending with you on your back and Jeongguk hovering over you. He’s got your wrists pinned by your head, and he looks down at you with dark eyes. The frustration in them juxtaposes the surprise in yours. 

 “You know that’s not fair, ___,” he chides. His tone is harsh, trying to sound stern, maybe angry– but there’s a slight waver in his voice that tells you he’s struggling to stay collected. 

 Fussily, you squirm under him. You tug against the hold he has on your wrists, only for him to squeeze tighter. You cant your hips in an attempt to rub up against his, only for Jeongguk to just lift them higher. A laugh of incredulity pairs the disbelief on his face when he glances between your wiggling frame and your irritated pout. 

 “I’m trying to do things right,” he explains around his bemusement, as he roughly presses your wrists deeper into the mattress. “I’m trying to be good.”

 You stare up at him with pinched brows. He looks so pretty above you. Flushed a pretty pink with his lips parted and plumped by the kisses you managed to steal. A stray, misplaced strand of hair flutters with his heavy breathing. His eyes keep flitting down to your lips, and you can physically see how much he wants you; how hard it is for him to fight it.

 When he finally lowers his body to yours, it’s almost defeatedly. Jeongguk gives in and just rests his weight on you. Presses himself against you, hot and hard between your legs. Finding his place easily when you open up and make room for him.

 He keeps that pressure on his cock while he exhales a trembling, almost relieved sigh. His nose brushes yours but when you tilt your head to connect your lips, he pulls back. He does it again, taunting you with almost-kisses until you’re craning your neck again.

 He doesn’t kiss you back when he lets your lips connect. In fact, you can feel how he purses his stubbornly. You stay determined, unswayed by his resistance. Your soft kisses inch from his mouth to pepper cute, all over his blushing skin. The scar on his cheek, the bridge of his nose. The just barely off-center freckle beneath his bottom lip. When your palm naturally settles on his neck, fingertips over his pulse point, you let out a breathy noise of wonder when you feel how fast his heart is racing. 

 And he feels his cock kick shamefully in his pants, letting out a breathy noise of his own. You feel it too and you coo, soft and fond, as you trail your other hand down his spine until it’s flat on the small of his back, pressing encouragingly. 

 Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, Jeongguk hangs his head to get closer to you. He bites gently at the pudge of your cheek, letting his teeth drag lightly until he’s mouthed hot, all the way to your ear.  

 “Why won’t you let me be good?” he whispers. 

 He croons prettily against the shell of your ear before he nips teasingly at your earlobe. A heat curls in your belly, making you suck in a short, whiny breath. The insides of your thighs clamp tight around his frame. 

 “Be good to me,” you gasp, arching up into him.

 Jeongguk moans quietly and buries his face in your neck when he can’t stop his hips from stuttering into a clumsy rhythm. Sloppily rutting his cock over your panties, uncoordinated and eager.

 Maybe he’s overly sensitive, hyperaware of your body underneath him, but when you begin to roll your hips, meeting his and matching his pace– he can feel how the little bit of added pressure has you opening up for him. Just enough for his hard-on to slide between, barely pillowed by your panty-covered pussylips. Even through the clothing, he can feel the difference. Like he knows you can. 

 He hears the unexpected moan you let out when you feel his cock rut over your clit and he feels the way your nails dig into his back at the sudden enhanced pleasure before he shifts to rest on his forearms so he can see too. 

 And what a pretty sight you are. 

 Eyes hazy and heavy, half-lidded as you look down your body to where he’s making you feel good. Cheeks flushed a rosy pink with arousal and maybe a little bit of abashment when you glance up at him and see him already watching you. You give him a small, shy grin before letting your eyes flutter closed. Basking in how he’s making you feel, your mouth falling open in a silent moan.  

 As he takes you in, his lips part with a low groan. His own pleasure coming from pleasuring you; heightened by every noise, look, and movement you make. Jeongguk gets such a specific satisfaction and gratification from making you feel good. From being good to you.

 “Is this what you want?” Jeongguk whispers, slowing down some. He settles into a steadier pace, rutting his cock up and down on your cunt with slow, lazy drags. 

 He grins to himself because of how quick you are to nod and let him know that, yes, this is what you want. His hand comes up to smooth some of the flyaways that have sprouted from your squirming and he cups your cheek when your turn into his touch. 

 “Hmm?” he prompts, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

 You huff, annoyed, and he can’t help but coo, smitten. 

 “Yeah– yes I want this, but I–,” you start off strong. You hold his gaze until shyness wins and has you focusing on the necklace dangling from his neck. The LV sways some as he continues to rock his hips. “I want more, too.”

 “Yeah?” Jeongguk asks, a smile lacing his dreamy tone. He gives a quick, soft peck to your red-bitten lips in lieu of letting you answer. “I know you do,” he tells you, murmurs it with open-mouthed kisses against your throat. He pulls at the neck of your sweatshirt, draws a violet into your collarbone, using his lips as the pen. Then he tugs the thin skin between his teeth briefly, making you inhale harshly before he kisses it better. 

 “Gonna take care of you,” he promises, “take my time with you.”

 Jeongguk proceeds at his own languid speed, lingering on every new inch of skin that’s revealed as he rids you of your sweatshirt. Of your panties. 

 He allows you your own pace as well. 

 Doesn’t spur you on when you’re slow to open up his dress shirt, doesn’t goad you into nimble quickness when your fingers stumble and it takes you far longer than it should to undo all the buttons. He doesn’t hurry you when your touch drags over his skin, or when your palms falter at his shoulders, or when your fingertips lag all the way down his arms when you finally slide the button-up off. When your shaky hands bide their time, hesitating at the buckle of his belt, he doesn’t rush you. 

 Jeongguk takes his time –and lets you take yours– as if time itself doesn’t exist when it’s passing between the both of you. As if each moment that comes and each moment that goes is inconsequential because moments are meaningless and time is simply a concept when forever is right now. 

 Nothing really matters and there’s no need to rush when he’s in your hands and you’re in his arms and forever is in his heart.  

 “Not yet,” he lilts, grabbing your wrists and sliding the flat of your palms up his tummy and away from his waistline. 

 “But I–”

 “But I–” he flirts coyly. 

 Your mouth opens to argue, but the words never get a voice. His mien makes the words in your throat fall mute and causes a feeling of wistfulness to rouse in your heart.  

 Knelt on his knees between your legs, smiling down at you, playful and flirty. Happy. Wearing a pink full-body flush– Jeongguk is stunning. Distractingly so. 

 He’s glowing; gentle yet radiant. A quiet fondness reflected in his eyes as he looks at you with that well-worn adoration of his. It’s a familiar affection. One that you’ve missed, yearned for, and memorized– one that you’ve tried to unlearn and tried to forget, too, because of how much it ached to remember. 

 Nostalgia is a wonted thing that taints good memories until it hurts to remember them. It warped the memory of Jeongguk’s adoration until even just a fleeting thought about it hurt. It made you want to wipe your memory clean just to be freed from the yearning.

 But with him looking at you the way he is, with that same raw adoration, you can’t fathom how you wanted to forget how it made you feel. How it still makes you feel. Because how good does it feel to be adored? How good does it feel to be wanted? How good does it feel to be finally his? 

 You dig your nails into his skin at the thought, and his tummy tenses. His grip on your wrists tightens and he lets out a soft hiss, the sound buoyed by a light, airy chuckle.

 His thumbs run over the pulse points in your wrists. “Lean against the headboard for me? Get comfy?”

 Cushioned by a few pillows, you do as he says, sinking into the down. Your knees are bent, and your arms are wrapped over your middle, now hyper-aware of how exposed you are comparatively. 

 Jeongguk’s top half is just as bare as you, only his necklace still on. But even though his lower body is covered, his bottoms are unforgiving. Dark slacks belted at his hips, the slight dip by his hipbones accentuated and his v-lines disappearing into the waistband where his cock is tucked away. Too hard and heavy to disguise, clothes doing almost nothing.  

 Not that he’s trying to hide it much at all. He’s palming himself casually, his touch light and his eyes dark. Tracking your movements while he waits for you to get settled. 

 When you are, Jeongguk makes his way to you, his hands resting on your knees as he lets his gaze roam. From your eyes to your lips, to your pillowy tits, to your closed legs. You feel a light pressure, almost tentative like he’s asking for permission with his touch.

 He’s on his best behavior though, so he asks you as well. And when you hear how his voice comes out a little deeper, with an almost imperceptible tremble, as he gently asks, “Can I?”,  your lashes flutter and your thighs reflexively press together, before you let him guide them open. 

 Time isn’t real, but any time in your bed shouldn’t go to waste. So he swiftly resituates himself, resting between your spread legs with his lips naturally finding their place on your neck, his hands on your skin. 

 Jeongguk’s quick, but attentive, as he relocates his mouth. The spit from his kiss marks leave a faint, wet trail from where they start at your neck down to the swell of your tits. He sighs when he gets a hold of them, jiggling a bit and squeezing. He glances at you through his lashes, as he plays your nipples, teasing them till they’re hardened by his touch. He smiles to himself when he sees you bring your bottom lip between your teeth to keep quiet.

 When he uses his lips to tease, he hears you sigh an airy, pleased sound. He’s smug as he swirls his tongue, flicks lightly over the stiff little peak. You take a deep breath, your chest expanding and pushing into him, before it’s released in a stuttery exhale. When you get a hold of his hair, the strands curl around your fingers, softly, like how you hold him close and cradle him to your chest. 

 He gives the paired nipple the same attention. Has you mewling prettily with each lick and suck. Whining with each bite and tug. 

 As he follows the length of your body, he does so with small, suctioning bites. A little nip just below your sternum, a little nip under your ribs. One at the softest part of your lower belly, right next to the pink heart of your belly ring. He gives the jewel a tiny, baby kiss.

 “This is the same one that you had in the first time we…” he stammers, too aware of the blush that simmers just under his skin at the thought. “We… you know… right?”

 Jeongguk’s laying on his front, his head resting against your inner thigh. His arms wrapped around your legs, resting on your belly. The tattooed fingers of his right hand absently toy with the dangly part of the jewelry. 

 Something warms you from the inside, pleasantly surprised by the mushy, lovesick feeling that washes over you. Your heart beats, rapid in your chest, and you wonder if Jeongguk can feel the whirlwind of butterflies in your tummy under his palms. 

 You nod, blushingly and shy. “Yeah, it’s… yeah.”

 “Just as cute as I remember,” he nods back. The puffs under Jeongguk’s eyes form when he smiles and adds, “This one is my favorite… Gonna make you feel good now, okay?”

 He says it so casually, that you want to laugh a little, but the anticipation it sparks makes you tense. Your pussy clenches on nothing, and you can feel that tell-tale heartbeat pulse between your legs. 

 “Okay… yeah…” you whisper dumbly, trying to hide how eager you are. You slowly open your legs a little wider so you can see him better, so he can touch you better. 

 Jeongguk switches from having one of his hands wrapped around your thigh to it resting palm down on your mons. He uses his thumb to lightly run along your plump folds, up and down. His eyes are fixed on your pussy, and his tongue peeks out to wet his lips a little before he nibbles on the inside of his lip, a soft smile making the corners curl. 

 “Just as cute as I remember,” he says again, his tone playful and a little wistful this time. He kisses just above your slit.

 Past lovers had said your cunt was pretty or maybe perfect when they found themselves between your legs, but Jeongguk has always called your pussy cute. It’s just a thing he does. And you don’t know why, but it never fails to make you blush, a little giddy and shy– something just so simple and sweet about his word of choice. 

 Even now, it has you wiggling and trying to inch your legs closed as you bring your hands up to hide your face. It’s whiny, but you both know you don’t really mean it when you say, “Stooooop” the word dragged out and laced with pleased flattery.

 You can feel Jeongguk’s warm laughter puff over your cunt as he urges you to keep your legs spread. He hums as the giggles subside and says, “Don’t be shy now, I’m just getting started.”

 A wistful sigh sounds, and it’s soft and cute and taunting when you say, “Okay well, hurry up.”

 You shift slightly here and there to get more comfortable, running a hand through your hair as you resist the urge to smile back at Jeongguk when he gives you a look. When you bring your arm down from your hair, Jeongguk snags it, guiding your hand to your cunt. But when you start to play yourself he stops you, tuttingly.

 “Don’t touch, just– open up for me,” he instructs, “Show me.”

 Jeongguk groans under his breath when you do as he says. When he stroked over your pussy lips just a moment ago, they were plush and smooth, soft to the touch with your arousal tucked neatly between your folds. But with them spread, he can see how you’re glossy with slick; so dewy when he’s barely even touched you. 

 “You’re already so wet. How long have you been like this, hmm?” he wonders aloud, gathering a small bit of the sticky clear at your opening with his finger before just barely pushing it inside. Kind of like he’s trying to put the little droplet back where it came from; not let it go to waste. Then he brings his touch to your clit and your pussy slick aids the up and down swipes of his thumb. 

 “Ah– fuck,” you faintly gasp. 

 Jeongguk’s cock pulses as you bring your other hand down, using both to spread yourself open more and pull back the hood of your clit. Making sure his touch is direct and the sensation feels as good as possible. The thought of you already being so greedy for pleasure is enough for him to leak, precum surely leaving a wet patch in his briefs. 

 Even though he’s being gentle, when he rubs over your exposed clit, you shy away from his touch despite being so fiendish for it. Jeongguk babies you with a coo because he knows that you’re probably so sensitive. You gave yourself almost no time to warm up, afterall. 

 “Too much?” he asks you.

 With a shake of your head, you say, “No, no… just– slowly, please.”

 Your words make him smile and he gives your inner thigh a honeyed kiss for being so good. The smile lingers because slow is the pace he always intended to use, at your request or not. It’s how he intends to finish you too. For the first time, at least. 

 Jeongguk keeps that slow speed until your body relaxes and another few drops of clear slick drip for your cunt. The thumb of his other hand rubs softly over your taint as he collects what you leak and tucks it back inside. Your pussy clenches and your hole puckers at the sensation every time, and it makes him fucking throb. 

 The thumb on your clit only speeds up enough for it to not be torturous or agonizingly slow, the pace satisfying but remaining lax and unhurried, like he has all the time in the world. Once he finds a good rhythm, he keeps the motions constant and consistent.

 When you start to get antsy and fidget, he smiles to himself knowingly. 

 “Feels good, baby?” he asks you, and when you nod, he whispers, “Yeah? Look so pretty…”

 And you didn’t lie. It does feel good. But he doesn’t go any faster. He doesn’t push the fingers at your opening in any farther. And after a handful of seconds that feel like minutes that feel like hours– there still isn’t any indication that he plans to.  

 When you roll your hips, trying to hint at what you want, Jeongguk stops you with a scolded tsk, telling you to stay still. The sound you let out is frustrated and petulant.

 There’s a taunting note in Jeongguk’s voice when he says, “I thought you said it feels good?”

 “It does,” you tell him, “But– faster?”

 Jeongguk’s expression is entertained, chuffed even. “I told you I was gonna take my time with you. Need you to be patient for me, baby–”

 “Please–”

 “Hush, ___.” 

 There’s still lingering amusement in his tone, but there’s also a sharpness, a hint of disapproval and something stern that wasn’t there before. It’s enough of a warning to silence the begging on the tip of your tongue. 

 “I’ll get you there, baby,” he says, his voice sweet again. “It’ll feel so good, I promise.”

 It’s quiet for a moment. Then–

 “I changed my mind, it doesn’t feel good.”

 Jeongguk doesn’t even look up from your pussy when he asks a preoccupied, “No?” Then he peeks at you, and when you give a pouty nod he hums. It’s smiling and mirthful when he dismisses you. “Well, don’t worry. It will soon.”

 Jeongguk is content between your thighs, still playing with your clit slowly. He only checks on you when your squirming mostly stops and you become suspiciously mute. 

 He snorts when he sees you scowling at him. “Don’t look at me like that.” After a few seconds with no response, he continues with, “Oh, so you’re going to be difficult now?”

 You shrug, snooty. 

 Laughing, he asks, “You’re really gonna act like it doesn’t feel good?” The corners of his lips curl softly and his eyes narrow like he’s scrutinizing you. His head tilts a little when he continues with, “Like you’re not leaking, right now? Like you wouldn’t be making a mess on your sheets if I wasn’t helping you?”

 Jeongguk watches your cheeks steadily turn a deep pink at his words until you look away from him, turning your nose in the air. You probably would have covered your face with your hands to avoid his gaze had they not been occupied.

 He chuckles again when he’s only met more silence. Just the slightest squirm when he tucks another leaked droplet back into your cunt. To make a point.

 “That’s okay, you can be mad at me as long as you’re patient, too,” he says, tone grossly fond and a perfect example of the patience he wants from you. “Still gonna make you cum. Still gonna be good to you and give you what you want.”

 And it seems what people say about patience being a virtue and all that, is true. Because just like Jeongguk said, with just a bit more time and some decorum, it does start to feel even better.   

 Like the way he’s been touching you, the come-up is slow and steady. The hot waves of pleasure that ebb in your lower belly. The rise and fall of your chest that gradually gets faster. The noises that get harder and harder to keep in. 

 Jeongguk doesn’t need to hear you, though, to know he’s getting you there. But he’s enjoying this brattier side of you –he remembers you being difficult every now and then, but overall you were always so good for him; never fought him too hard on things– so he humors you by asking, “Starting to feel nice, baby?”

 Everso tart, you shrug again, looking off to the side. 

 Still, Jeongguk doesn’t need to see your face to know he’s getting you there. Your pussy is a whistleblower, telling him everything he needs to know. Your cunt– leaking non-stop, contracting constantly. Your tiny clit– now puffy and swollen from all his attention. 

 Your fingers holding your pussy lips apart for him have a mild tremor. Your brows are arched when you finally give him your attention again, watching his thumb swipe up and down, over and over again. Your legs are beginning to tremble beside him. Your head is lulling back, and your lungs are exhaling a lewd sigh. 

 “I– I’m close,” you whisper, breathlessly.

 Jeongguk purrs, is just about to tease you and your stubbornness with something along the line of ‘Really? Thought it didn’t feel good, ___’. But he doesn’t get the chance because of how close the string in you is to snapping. How it’s pulled so taut that it has you near tears, that slow and steady come-up finally peaking.

 “Oh my god, Gguk– my– my pussy’s gonna cum,” you cry quietly, legs shaking as you struggle to keep them open.

 “Mhm, I told you, baby,” he hums, smug, “Let me see how good it feels.”

 Your face is turned into your shoulder, but you nod for him. Focusing on the ruining, slow, consistent rubbing of his thumb. The pleasure is so mind-numbingly good that, as much as you want to cum, you try to make it last as long as possible. 

 Which isn’t much longer at all, only a few more vertical swipes over your clit is all you can handle before you’re mewing a soft warning and cumming so hard your body convulses.

 “That’s my girl. So pretty, baby. Did so good; always such a good girl for me,” Jeongguk praises, full of lust-filled awe as he watches you finish. He feels your clit pulsing under his thumb and he sees your cunt squeezing repeatedly around nothing and now he that he’s not preventing it, he sees how your pussy cums– leaking everything that he tucked away and dripping down to your sheets. Making a mess like he knew it would.

 He continues to rub your clit until your body twitches, curling in on yourself as you close your legs and bring them to your chest. Wrapping your arms around the backs of your knees and pulling your legs to your chest, you curl into yourself for protection as Jeongguk moves to shed himself of the rest of his clothes. Then he sits on his heels while he watches you, amused. 

 Even though you’ve made a great attempt at hiding your pussy away, with the way you’re positioned it still peeks out from between your thighs. Puffy and shiny. 

 You’re on your back with your eyes closed, still catching your breath. The feel of Jeongguk’s hands on you makes you jump, and when his touch moves form the backs of your thighs closer to your sensitive cunt, you whine, kicking at his arms weakly.

 “Shh,” he murmurs, “I won’t touch, I just want to look.”

 Somewhat soothed by his words, you begin to shift to a more relaxed position but Jeongguk pushes your legs back together and your knees back to your chest. 

 You gripe at being manhandled. “What if I want to see, too?” 

 “You don’t need to see if I tell you what I see,” Jeongguk reasons.

 “It’s mine,” you argue.

 “Ours,” he corrects.

 After telling Jeongguk that he’s dumb and asking him to please shut up, both of you dissolve into a fit of laughter. When you kick again, trying to get his shoulder as punishment, he gets a grip on your leg before you can land the hit and he kisses your ankle. You sigh.

 It’s quiet, and you’re content letting Jeongguk pet at you, listening as he tells you about what he sees. He says cute a few times. Wet, messy. His fingers brush over your folds, even plumper than before, and you can feel the sticky wetness that stays behind when he moves his touch to somewhere else.

 When he uses his thumbs to part your pussy lips, you hear him whine. The breathy noise makes you grin, and you hum lightly. 

 “Still cute?” you ask aloud. Eyes on the ceiling, smile still on your lips.

 Jeongguk knows he said he wouldn’t touch, but he doesn’t think you’re too sensitive anymore. He still bypasses your clit just in case when he slowly runs his fingertip to your opening. When he presses into the second knuckle, you moan sweetly and the sound mixes with the audible wetness. There’s a crystalline string still attached to his finger when he pulls away. 

 “Mhmm,” Jeongguk hums, answering your question. “But so messy.”

 You bite your lip when Jeongguk slips his finger in again, a little father this time. 

 “Clean me up, then,” you whisper, airy and wispy. 

 Jeongguk hums and when you look to the sound, you can see him peeking at you over your bent knees that are still pulled to your chest. He scrunches his nose at you cutely, and you mirror the curve of his lips.

 “I guess I should, since I’m the one who made you make such a mess,” he hums, like he’s mulling it over. But the fact that he does so while lowering his face to your cunt shows that he’s already made his decision. 

 In this position, you can’t see him and it makes you tense in anticipation while you wait.

 Jeongguk knows it’s a little mean to keep you waiting, but he can see you so perfectly like this. Can see how you’re trying control your arousal and calm yourself down with deep breaths. He can see how it’s not working.

 “You’re shaking,” he observes dreamily. 

 Your pussy leaks and he watches that glossy slick drip down. He uses his pointer finger to play with the droplet at your hole, swirling the dewiness around the cinched muscle.

 The sigh you let out is stuttered, and your hole clenches under his touch before you force yourself to relax again. You swallow your embarrassment before you admit, “I want it really bad, Gguk.”

 You sound like you’re close to crying and Jeongguk soothes you with wet kisses on your thighs. 

 “All you have to do is ask, baby,” Jeongguk tells you gently. His kisses move till they’re right next to your pussy, his tongue poking out to lick just outside your folds. His thumbs pull you open and he blows lightly.

 “Oh my god,” you whimper. 

 Jeongguk’s voice is full of flirty, mirth when he asks, “What do you say? Hmm?”

 The heartbeat in your cunt is the only thing you can focus on. The pulsing is so loud and strong that it drowns everything else out. You don’t even really hear it when you sigh a hazy, “Please, sir.” 

 Predictably, your words go straight to his cock. But weirdly enough, he also feels them in his heart? He can’t explain it but somehow the lust thrumming through him melts into something fond? A lovesick impulse has him opening your legs so he can slot himself in between.

 He doesn’t lay on you but holds himself above on a braced arm. His free hand comes up to cup your cheek as he looks at you. The corners of your eyes are damp, confirming the tears he thought he had heard in your voice earlier. Your lips are redder and a bit swelled, probably from you pulling them between your teeth.  

 Jeongguk kisses the corner of one eye, then the other, and then your lips. His thumb glides over your cheekbone. He sounds gentle when he says, “No ‘sir’ today, okay? Just Gguk.”

 You nod in his hold. 

 “Good girl,” he smiles, soft and sweet. “I’ll clean you up now, won’t tease you anymore.”

 You breathe a relieved sigh as Jeongguk kisses all the way down your tummy and you think about how good it’s going to feel, after all this time, to have his mouth all over your cunt. To feel his tongue licking into you, deep and slow. To feel his lips wrapping around your clit with light sucks. 

 The closer Jeongguk gets to your pussy, the harder it is to keep still. He smiles as you squirm and you can feel it in the juncture of your inner thigh where his mouth has strayed. It’s not too long before he gets back on track, kissing his way to your pussy till his lips are tucked between your plush folds and the tip of his tongue is circling your clit. 

 Your mouth drops open in a silent moan as you sit up, resting on your elbows to watch him. Just the sight of him is enough to make the first surge of heat curl in your belly. He’s got his eyes closed, lashes sitting pretty on the highs of his cheek as he licks at you. Cleaning you up and making a mess of you all at once. 

 “You look so pretty,” you whisper as you card a hand through his hair, pushing the stands off his forehead and out of his face.

 Without stopping his tongue, Jeongguk glances up at you, his eyes half-lidded and hazy. He moans pleased and happy into your pussy. Only pulls away for a second to whisper a cute ‘thank you’.

 His tongue is busy and so are his hands, running them up your body. When he gets to your tits, he’s harsh. Digging in and squeezing with palms that are just as greedy as his mouth. He uses the hold he has on them to pull himself closer, push his tongue deeper. The harshness of his touch makes you hiss, the hand you have in his hair tugging. 

 Jeongguk’s eyes roll back a little before he loosens grip, squeezing your tits once more, gently this time, as an apology. Then he’s smoothing his palms along your waist till one’s wrapped around your thigh and the other’s resting on your tummy.  

 He pulls away briefly to look at you, offering a sheepish grin before he pecks just above your slit. The hand he has on your belly absently fiddles with your bellyring.

 “Sorry,” he says, “I just– I don’t know, I didn’t notice how rough I was being.”

 You hum while you rest your feet on his back and wiggle your toes. 

 “I think I’ve just been wanting you for so long…” He turns his head and nuzzles into your leg by his head, his hair tickling the sensitive skin. “And now that I have you, I–” His lips graze your inner thigh with every word and when he’s at the softest part, he bites gently. 

 On a sigh, you ask, “You what?”

 Resting where his teeth just were, he tilts his head, looking up at you. “It’s hard for me to control myself. I just– can’t get enough of you.” His words are said with a sigh and uttered in between roaming wet kisses. 

 After he promises he’ll be more careful with you, he begins to lick broad stripes over your cunt. When you spread your legs wider, you can feel the flat of his tongue against your clit. But it’s just slightly, just a brush of his tongue. 

 “My clit,” you moan, looking down your nose at him, “Play with my clit.”

  He hums, pulling back a little. With your legs parted so wide, your pussy lips are spread just enough for him to see the little bud. He watches you as he uses the very tip of his tongue, flicking repeatedly over the sensitive spot just under your hood.

 Your brows pinch and your legs twitch as they naturally try to inch close, the feel of Jeongguk’s tongue so good and so much that your body is already on the verge of being overwhelmed. 

 “Ah– yeah, like that, Gguk,” you sigh letting your head roll back, basking in how good he’s making you feel, “Keep licking my pussy like that.”

 Your eyes lull shut while you let him make you feel good, and it’s then that you notice his hand on your tummy is still toying with your piercing. It’s distracting only for a moment, only before you realize that every time he does something to your clit with his tongue, he does the same to the dangly part of the jewelry with his fingers.

 When Jeongguk circles your clit, he twirls the charm. When he licks up and down over your clit, the little heart gets flicked too. When he suctions his lips and sucks your clit in and out of his mouth, he tugs gently on your belly ring.

 You can’t be sure if he’s doing it on purpose. One part of you thinking the patterns match up too well for it to be unconscious, the other part thinking it could just be an absentminded coincidence. You also can’t be sure why the nuanced touches are making the pleasure in your gut curl so tight; burn so hot.

 “Gguk– you’re gonna make me cum again…” you drone, lustdrunk. 

 He smiles while his tongue continues to lick lightly. “Am I?”

 While looking down your body at him, you nod. Your body already pulling taut with the tension that always preludes your orgasms.

 Jeongguk’s lips wrap around your clit and he gives a quick sucking kiss before he pulls away with a little pop! sound. “Not yet, I’m not done cleaning you up.”

 Groaning, you throw your head back. “You said you weren’t gonna tease anymore.”

 “I did,” he confirms, his big palms finding the backs of your thighs and pushing them back, “But not so you could cum– so I could clean up your mess–”

 “Your mess–”

 “Our mess,” he amends, the tips of his fingers straying to the newly exposed parts of you. Jeongguk brushes over your hole, and you suck in a small gasp. “You’re messy here too, baby.”

 Whining softly, you squirm as Jeongguk presses light, sucking kisses into your skin and there’s a subconscious urge to close your legs to keep him from getting where he so clearly intends. At the first signs of subtle hesitance, you feel his hands hold your legs open more firmly

 “Let me?” he breathes, “Please?”

 And something about how his voice is so soft –hazy and dreamy and full of so much lust and desire– has you relaxing, giving in. Docile and pliant in his hands. 

 You suppose some things may never change.

 The first feel of his tongue tasting you where no one has before makes you exhale a shaky sigh. Your hole puckering under the featherlight licks he gives. When he circles the cinched muscle, your mouth falls open and you look down your body and between your open legs to where Jeongguk already has his eyes on you. 

 His eyes get little puffs under them when he sees your reaction and smiles. The confusedly pleasured pinch of your brows. The tense way your hands grip the sheets under you.

 Giving your cheek a quick peck, he asks, “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

 It makes the memory of him –hot and hard and leaking with your tongue on his hole– flash in your mind. It reminds you that he knows what he’s doing to you, that he knows he’s making you feel good because you made him feel the same way. Sure the anatomy’s different, but a tongue is a tongue and a hole is a hole. 

 In lieu of being difficult, you answer him with a moan; with your head hitting your pillows again.

 That’s confirmation enough for Jeongguk as he echoes your moan with his own. He wraps his lips around the tight muscle in a nasty wet kiss and then drags his tongue up and along your leaking center till he’s at your clit where he plays until he works you into a whiny mess.

 You’re tensing, and he can feel how your body shifts as your chest expands with the deep breaths you’re taking. Like you’re trying to focus and keep yourself earthbound by delaying the impending high. 

 It’s a high that’s inevitable though, and you have a warning on the tip of your tongue only for it to go to waste when Jeongguk makes his way down again as soon as he senses it.

 And he repeats this– alternating between rimming you tauntingly and eating you till he can tell you’re right on the edge. You can feel how he smirks and you’re sure it’s amusement that you can hear prettying up little noises he purrs. His continuous teasing has you letting out barely contained whiny keens. 

 But Jeongguk can tell you’re doing your best to behave. The brattish way about you from before is nowhere to be seen. Not even when he feels your body slump for the nth time, panting from another almost-orgasm he takes away.   

 “You’re gonna cum aren’t you?” Jeongguk wonders aloud, pulling back a little to see how your pussy clenches in anticipation.

 He hears you swallow, flicks his eyes up to watch as you bring a hand up to tug a little at your hair. It trembles a little as you bring it down to his locks.

 “I- yeah… just… please…” You tug, pulling him to your clit by the crown of his head and holding him there with both hands. “Just stay there, please…”

 You can’t help the way that you start to roll and grind against his face. Jeongguk’s lips and his tongue rubbing against you repeatedly with the up and down motion of your hips, and his nose bumping your clit a little every now and again. 

 His hands dig into your waist like he’s trying to pull you closer, suffocate himself with your cunt. It’s when he shakes his head with subtle little side to side motions over your clit that your pleasure peaks with your legs shaking before they’re closing around his head.

 You cum hard and quietly, hushed ‘don’t stop’s and ‘keep going’s tumbling from your lips as you hold his mouth against you until you can’t take it anymore. You use one hand to pull him away by the hair, your other coming down to press against your still pulsing pussy. 

 With the hold you still have in his hair, you deliriously guide and maneuver him upwards. You’re still trying to catch your breath, so the quiet awed, ‘Whoa…’ you voice sounds airy

 The position you’ve got Jeongguk in now has him straddling you across your upper torso with strong thighs caging you in. His cock bobbing a little right in your face. Heavy and flushed, the tip an angry shade of pink and shiny with precum. It’s instinctive when you reach out with your small hand to wrap around the base. And again, something awe-filled tumbles from your mouth.

 “You’re so hard…” 

 The words float past your lips in the form of a breathless whisper, your lashes fluttering as your gaze jumps from his cock to his face. Your hand strokes lightly, just your fingertips running over the warm, silky skin. 

 “Missed you,” Jeongguk says with a tiny, unabashed shrug. As if that’s explanation enough for the state he’s in.

 He smiles with his bottom lip tugged between his teeth and you smile back.

 The pad of your thumb rubs at the underside of the crown when a drop of precum leaks, massaging it in messily. “Can I use my mouth?”

 “Mhmm,” Jeongguk sounds, not trusting his voice enough to not shake.

 You begin by placing weighted kisses along his length, starting at the base till your lips pucker around the slit. The heady taste of precum makes you purr, moaning softly. Jeongguk’s hips cant forward, and when you glance up you can see how his head has rolled back.

 Smiling at how affected he already is by the smallest things, you run your teeth over the sensitive head. You anticipate the hiss that Jeongguk sucks in. Your tongue swirls around to soothe and to taste before your mouth opens to swallow. 

 The tip of his cock barely grazes the back of your throat before Jeongguke is pulling his hips back and choking just slightly on the whiny gasp that gets caught in his throat. He threads a hand in your hair and tugs you off. 

 Your forehead is resting against his lower tummy, and you giggle a little before you kiss at the slight jutting of his hipbone. His cock throbs, and he groans.

 “What’s wrong?” you ask, smiling into him.

 You can feel his fingers massage lightly at your scalp, and when you glance up at him, he’s looking down at you, lovesick as he rolls his eyes at your playfully. 

 “Go slow, okay?” he asks softly, “Tease me a little?”

 Closing your eyes briefly as you let the sound of his moonstruck voice wash over you, you kiss sweetly at his hip once more before giving small kitten licks to the warm, flushed skin of his cock. He sighs like he’s in love.

 “Like this?” you ask, coquettishly. 

 Jeongguk nods when you look up at him with your mouth open and the tip of your tongue flicking lightly.

 “Lick the tip,” he whispers while he gets a hold of himself and guides it to your mouth. 

 You keep your eyes on him as you slowly drag the flat of your tongue with long licks.

 “Good… that’s good baby…” he says airily.

 Jeongguk glances down his nose at you for just a moment longer before his head is rolling back, and he’s moaning. His little sounds are quiet, but they’re almost constant. And you’re really not doing much, just licking softly at his frenulum, but you can already feel how his cock is getting stiffer, can see how the muscles in his tummy tense and untense… like he’s already getting close.

 Kissing the crown, you pull away, stroking over him lazily. Squeezing at the base when he kicks in your palm. “Already?” you ask gently.

 Jeongguk’s eyes are squeezed shut, like he’s trying to keep his composure, but at your choice of words, he laughs lightly. “Yes, already,” he tells you, pointedly. “That’s why I said to go slow.”

 Slow is good for you. Slow lets you take it all in. Take all of him in. 

 Slow lets you tease drop after drop of precum out; lets you coax your name from Jeongguk’s lip over and over again until you’re sure you’ll hear his lovechants in your dreams tonight. Slow lets you memorize the way that his hands twitch wherever they touch you, how he gasps when your tongue does something that feels extra nice, how he whines when you bring your free hand up and roll his balls in your palm. 

 He’s a bit predictable, endearingly so with the blush on his cheeks as he urges the hand toying with his balls a little farther back. You smile to yourself as you touch him, rubbing at his taint and taking a moment to just watch his face. 

 Jeongguk’s eyes are shut, mouth just barely parted. His brows pinch just slightly when you inch your touch farther back and the cinched muscle clenches briefly under your fingertips, before he relaxes. It’s light and hazy when he whispers, “Yeah, baby…”

 The light circles you’re tracing around Jeongguk’s hole have his cock throbbing. You have to wrap your lips around the head to keep him still enough to taste and properly tease, sucking with tiny bobs of your head as you drink down everything he leaks. 

 “I– ___, oh my god–” Jeongguk pants, looking down at you, like he can’t believe you or your mouth, can’t believe how good it feels to have you again. 

 You hum, lips still wrapped around the tip of his cock as you smile up at him as best you can. His chest expands with a sharp inhale when you press your fingers a littler firmer against his hole.

 “Want me to put them in?” you ask between the soft open-mouthed kisses you press to his cock.

 The sound that Jeongguk lets out makes your kisses cease and has you sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. Your thighs rub together, and your pussy is needy between them.  

 Jeongguk’s never done it before, at least not fully and with someone else. But the thought alone is almost enough to make him finish. It would be a first for you and him, together. Something he’s been wanting, craving.

 He’s still trying to get his thoughts in order when you prompt him with a patient, ‘Hmm?’. 

 “I- No, no–” he ends up saying, “Just– just play with me.”

 It’s sighed, laced with lust and contentment. Having you right now, just playing as he said, is more than enough for him. The anticipation does feel nice though, hot and sweet like a whispered promise of next time. Jeongguk wonders if you’ll ruin him. 

 “You just want me to play?” you ask, “You don’t want to cum?”

 And Jeongguk’s sure you will. Ruin him, that is. If you haven’t already.

 Your voice comes out lovily teasing, and your hands stay busy while you look up at him, eyes big and so pretty. Lips glossy with spit, maybe a little bit of his precum. 

 “Not– not yet?” 

 Jeongguk’s voice sounds unsure in your ears, and his actions contradict his words when you bring your lips to his leaking tip. His hips roll forward seemingly on their own accord, the most sensitive part of his cock rubbing against your tongue that you’ve pillowed underneath the crown. 

 A choked little whine falls from his open mouth before his head is lulling back and his hands are coming to your hair. Humming, you suction your lips around the head and bring the hand you don’t have busy to his hips, urging him to keep rocking his hips, slow so you can keep the pressure from your tongue constant. 

 “Oh my god– baby… baby–” Jeongguk moans, his gaze back on you. His brows furrowed and arched up, his mouth agape. 

 Under your touch, you can feel his muscles tense. How his breaths come out huffed and strained. How he sometimes tries to pull his hips away before he pushes them in like he rethought it, maybe like he never meant to. How no matter how hard he tries to keep from doing it, the stalling pace of his hips picks up.

 And you can tell he’s going to cum. 

 He keeps muttering these fucked out little whispers of your name, of baby, of my baby. Almost like they’re warnings, maybe pleas. But not pleas for you to stop, or tease him anymore. You can hear the difference, can feel it in the way he touches you. Can taste it on your tongue with every heavy drop of precum that he’s leaking.  

 It’s like a string snaps in him, when he groans something deep and dissonant and his hips stop all together and his hold in your hair turns almost painful as he uses his grip to work your mouth over his cock.

 “Yeah,” he breathes, “Don’t fucking stop… Gonna make me fucking cum–”

 His cock is throbbing in your mouth before he even finishes his sentence. Coating your tongue in so many thick, hot shots of white. You hum, moving your fingers from massaging his taint so that you can roll his balls in your palm. 

 Jeongguk’s hand is shaking a little when he brings it down to cup your face, when he gently pulls you off him. His cock still fat and bobbing with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He guides your gaze to his.

 He’s bracing himself above you with his forearm against your headboard, looking down at you a little sweaty and so flushed. Chest rising and falling with deep breaths. He’s got a little smile on his face when he runs the pad of his thumb over the plump of your bottom lip. Your mouth opens instinctively. The little smile on his lips grows before he’s biting it down.

 His thumb presses down on the fleshy muscle, and you naturally let your lips wrap around it.

 “Good girl,” he says, softly.

 His words are tangible, and you close your eyes and you smile as you just let the praise glide over your body. It’s almost like you can feel each letter press a kiss into your skin. 

 Jeongguk’s a copycat as he too presses kisses here and there while he resituates himself. Going from straddling your ribcage to finding his home between your legs. Until you manuver him once more. He’s still home, between your legs, but on his back with you straddling him now.

 Jeongguk doesn’t complain at the manhandling. Just looks up at you, rubs little nonsensical patterns just above the creases of your thighs. 

 “Can we do it now?”

 His laugh is bright and loud at first before he gets a hold of himself, but he’s still smiling as he lets his shining eyes and his hands wander. His fingertips trialing over your skin until his gets his hands to your tits. His thumbs flick over your nipples while he hums, amused. 

 “Now you have to wait for me to be ready again,” he tells you conversationally, still teasing you.

 You pout playfully, letting your own fingers explore, tracing the line of ink where his sleeve comes to an end on his shoulder. “So boring, Gguk,” you jest.

 He scrunches his nose at you. “Why do you think I told you, ‘not yet’?”

 Rolling your eyes, you reposition yourself; less over his torso and more over his hips. “Well,” you start, lowering your pussy down to where his cock lays flat on his tummy, “Waiting doesn’t have to be boring.” You drag your cunt over his still plump, but not-quite hard cock. 

 One of his hands quickly jerks down to get a hold of your hips and stop your movements. He hisses.. 

 He says something about how he never said it had to be boring as you reach between your bodies and get a hold of his half-hard cock. Goes on about how he literally just came and how he needs a second to recuperate as you bring the head to your wet opening. 

 “Can I?” you ask vaguely, interrupting him.

 He doesn’t say anything more, just gives you the littlest nod and he squeezes his eyes shut while you squeeze him into you. He’s not there yet, but he’s still sensitive and its still a tight fit.

 Jeongguk looks down his chest to where you’re sitting prettily on his slowly hardening cock. His eyes roll back slightly before he’s scrubbing one of his hands over his face. “You’re–”

 “Did you watch our video?” you interrupt again. 

 Stuttering a little bit, and winching some, Jeongguk uses the couple of seconds it takes for you to bring yourself down to him, to think. 

 “No, felt guilty… tried to hold out completely but ended up giving in and thinking about you…” he says, his hands finding their place at your hips.. 

 His answer isn’t what you expected but it still has you smiling softly, chest to chest, resting on your elbows, and playing with his hair. “And what did you think about?” you muse, words breathy and flirty.

 Jeongguk’s eyes instinctively dart to your curved lips. “Your mouth.”

 You scrunch your nose at him cutely as you ask, “On your cock?” 

 He gasps when you grind your hips just a little, the movement stiffening his cock up that much more. Jeongguk can feel his cheeks heat up as he shakes his head, the hands he has on your hips moving to your thighs and then back up, squeezing and making little chills crawl across your skin.  

 “On my lips…” he admits quietly, licking them. “Missed kissing you.”

 With a heart that grows fond in your chest, you lean down and give what he missed. Jeongguk sighs into your mouth, melts underneath you. He cranes his neck and the kiss deepens, his tongue slipping in between your lips. It’s not until you having him moaning softly into your mouth that you disconnect from him and make your way to his ear. 

 “Thought about you too,” you tell him, “touched myself to the thought of you missing me; wrapping your hand around your cock with me on your mind.”

 Jeongguk’s fingertips dig into the fatty part of your ass, latches his lips onto the junctre between your neck and your shoulder. He sinks his teeth in just a touch to quiet his moan. 

 The whiny moise that you let out precedes the, “I fanatasized about the way you would fuck me when you came back to me–”

 “I wanted to, but I just felt so bad–”

 “Shh,” you hush him, “Doesn’t matter now…”

 You finally make to move your hips for real this time, but lifting them has you letting out a tiny hiss of pain that’s followed by a cute, airy laugh. “Almost forgot how big you are.”

 Jeongguk’s heart was just tugging inside his chest but now his cock is throbbing inside of you. Even as he wonders if there’s been anyone since him. 

 But once you get over that first hint of pain, past the initial sting of him stretching and filling you up, the only wonder is how Jeongguk survived without you for so long. 

 The light from your blinds peaks through your hair; wild and messy and draping over your shoulder. The long strands almost act as a curtain, hiding you and Jeongguk away. Spots of sunshine come through here and there, and they hit different parts of your body as your body becomes his body. On the tip of your nose, over the curve of your breast, the tops of your thighs. 

 And Jeongguk’s knows he is so fucking lucky. Not because he gets to have you like this –warmed by his touched and sunlight– but because he gets to have it again. Because he gets another chance at having you at all, after fucking it up once already.

 “Gguk,” you pant, “I feel so good right now.” 

 You’ve gone from bouncing on his cock, to griding on it, feeling his tip rub against the deepest parts of you. Your palms are flat on his lower tummy, and when he grabs your hips, helping you move back and forth on him, your nails dig into the muscle. 

 It makes him moan, quiet like the little sounds that you can’t stop making. 

 Jeongguk knows he was basically on the verge of tears just a second ago, but he is still a man and he can’t stop himself from asking, “Who’s making you feel so good baby?”

 He can tell how fucked out and how close you are because of how easily you answer him. How being stubborn and bratty doesn’t even seem to cross your mind when you moan, “You, it’s always you.” 

 Pulling you to his chest and fucking up into your cunt is much sweeter than it probably seems. He does so to be close to you, to feel your chest against his, to feel how your body shakes as you get closer, to feel how you bury your face into his neck to try and muffle your moans and cries.

 “Yeah–” you sob into his skin, “you’re gonna make me cum– please– please, can I cum?”

 Your words come out staccato and irregular, punched out one by one by his cock as he fucks you faster. But Jeongguk doen’t say anything yet, just focuses on the slick sounds your pussy is making everytime he bottoms out, on the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of the slick, velvety heat, on how his fingers sink into your ass as he squeezes and tugs and pulls your cheeks apart to bury himself as deep as he can when he cums with you. 

 “Fuck, baby cum for me,” Jeongguk pants, his words a little rushed as he feels it all come to a head, “Cum all over my fucking cock while I cum in your pussy.”

 You don’t say anything when you cum, and neither does Jeongguk. Both cumming with nothing but gasps. Your’s sounding sweet, almost awed, as you just let your cunt squeeze and contract around Jeongguk’s cock, almost like you forgot you could cum that hard. Jeongguk’s are more guttural as his cock throbs, pulsing with each shot of cum he pumps into your pussy.

 ~~~

 “Your roommates are actually terrifying.”

 The voice makes you smile, laughing sleepily, eyes closed for just a moment longer before you turn your head to see a dishevelleddly dressed Jeongguk, holding a single glass of water in his hand. 

 He shrugs off his blazer that he’s wearing over his briefs (you’ve helped yourself to his button up), and sits next to where you’re laying down. He nudges you his foot till you sit up and take the water from him.

  It’s a content type of quiet while you both pass the glass back and forth, sharing. It only last for a minute or two before Jeongguk is clearing your throat.

 “So… what happened to your plant, hmm?”

 He must have seen the pitiful looking succulent in your living room when he went to get the water. And you know he’s just messing around and that he only said it to strike conversation and fill the silence, but still, it makes something ugly stir in your gut. 

 “You didn’t remind me,” you say, trying to literally shrug it off and give the topic a quick stop.

 But Jeongguk is giggling as he says back, “Oh, so it’s my fault?”

 “Everything is your fault.”

 It’s snappy and said with enough bitterness that Jeongguk is physically taken aback. But then he thinks and then he softens.

 “Hey,” he says gently.

 You look at him, eyes swirling with a mixture of anger and hurt. 

 Jeongguk brushes a little bit of your hair out of your face as he looks you over. “I know,” he acknowledges quietly. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, but I hope with some time, you’ll be able to see it.”

 You frown a little before giving him a sad small smile and you bring your hand up to cup his cheek. He turns into the touch and gives your palm a soft kiss.

 “I know you’re sorry,” you tell him, “I know you are and I forgive you –my head knows that but– my heart is still sad.”

 Something about how you say it reminds Jeongguk of how young you are. But not in the way it did before. Not like your youth is a burden, or a red flag. It just reminds him that he needs to be careful with you. 

 “I know, and that’s okay… I know it’s going to take time,” Jeongguk gives you a sad, yet understanding shrug.

 And for once, it’s a good thing that time does what time is meant to. It passes and it allows things to grow; for things to heal. 

 “Speaking of time,” you say, lightheartedly trying to change the subject, “How long do I have you?”

 “As long as you want me.”

 Jeongguk’s reply is met with the most underwhelmed, flat stare you have every given him. He snorts before he says, “Till tomorrow afternoon– I have to pick up Nari.”

 His heart feels like it’s going to explode in his chest when he sees how your eyes light up at the mention of his daughter, at how you jabber on with questions about her. How has she been?, Is she talking yet?, Does she still have that narwhal?

 There’s a chance that he might regret it, but there’s also a chance that he might not. 

 So he asks, “Do you want to come with me?” 

 ~~~ 

 However long Jeongguk said it takes to get to his ex-wife’s house, all those months ago, escapes you.

 But right now, it feels like 10 years and 10 minutes all at once. 

 It’s dramatic, yes, how terribly you’ve been fidgeting in the passenger seat of the Mercedes. Even Jeongguk’s big, warm hand petting at your knee can’t quell the nerves.

 It’s making the atmosphere tense, and you feel bad when Jeongguk sounds like he’s walking on eggshells when he tells you, “Thank you for coming with me, I’m really happy you did.”

 You feel even worse when you respond with, “I don’t think I want to go to the door with you.”

 The ever-soothing hand on your leg stutters for barely a second before continuing just as it was.

 “That’s totally fine,” he assures you, eyes on the road and one hand on the steering wheel. “You don’t have to, but if you change your mind, you can. It is your choice.”

 The hand squeezes your thigh reassuringly. 

 And it’s quiet for the rest of the drive. Until Jeongguk is pulling into an empty spot in the driveway of a very big, very nice house. Right next to a Porsche. 

 “Of fucking course.”

 “___.”

 “No, you’re right,” you say, raising your hands appeasingly, “You’re right, I shouldn’t even be surprised–”

 Jeongguk interrupts you with his hands on your cheeks and his lips on your. 

 “Shut.” He gives you one kiss. “Up.” He gives you two kiss.

 His affection makes the tension in your body dissipate and your shoulders slump. “I’m sorry.”

 With his thumbs rubbing over the apples of your cheeks, he gives you a small, understanding, patient smile. Then he asks if you’re sure about not coming to the door with him because he is stupid. 

 You tell him as much as you reiterate how you do not want to go to the door and this time, Jeongguk is the one raising his hands in surrender as he exits the car.

 Leaving you alone with your thoughts.

 Should you get out of the car? Wait inside? Should you have brought Nari a gift? Will she remember you? What if she doesn’t?

 When you hear a distant, familiar baby-giggle, you end up opening the door and standing between Jeongguk’s car and Dasom’s. You feel a little dumb until you hear the pitter patter of little feet on the brick driveway. 

 “I have a surprise for you Nana,” you hear Jeongguk sing cutely.

 And you hear Nari gasp excitedly in response, even cuter.

 As the pair get closer, you can see Jeongguk’s top half over the car, how his arm is swinging back and forth because of the tiny hand that’s holding his where you can’t see.

 Nari is dressed in a black jumper dress with a long-sleeved heart-patterned shirt on underneath when she pops out from behind the car and next to her dad. Kept warm from the slight chill in the air by her knitted tights and her teeny-tiny ugg boots. She’s still round, but she’s gotten taller and you coo softly to yourself.

 But Nari hears the little noise you make and when she sees you, she stops in her tracks. Her little bobble head looking between you and Jeongguk. Then she’s tugging on her dad’s pinky that she’s got a hold of.

 “___!” she says as she nods towards you, like she’s letting Jeongguk know that you’re right there. She sounds sure, almost a little bossy. Doesn’t stutter even a second to remember you. Kind of like she never forgot you. 

 “Ah– what’s with the nodding missy?” Jeongguk tuts, then he looks at you and shakes his head exasperated yet amused. 

 Nari has the nerve to giggle, a big girl no longer brought to tears by her daddy’s scoldings. She looks up at him grinning before she shrugs, like she doesn’t know what got into her. As she raises her little shoulders, her free hand comes up too for emphasis. And gripped tightly in her little hand is her stuffed narwhal. 

 You’re happy.

~~~~~~~~~

aaaaand SCENE. omg heyyyy long time no see girlfriends <3 i hope that u think this was worth the wait but am debilitatingly scared that it did not meet ur expectations so i am hiding <3 im sorry for how long it took but it is here now n that is all my tiny hands have to offer!!  i would love to know what u thought, so please do al the things: reblog, like, comment, send an ask~~ thank u for waiting for me and for reading ily muah :*

[luci4theminorannoyance]

Hi! may I request something? the residential masked fellas (Ghost, Konig, Keegan, & Roach), x therapist!reader, who's a billionaire? (shocking part, the billionaire part was not mentioned by our reader) I imagine reader spoiling their s/o with gifts & affectionate stuff they deserve, while helping them get a sense of theirselves or something like that 😭 (most of the cod characters need therapy, to be honest) BUT- they start to suspect how on earth did reader get all of the stuff? cause i'm sure reader gifted them the expensive kind- but anyways, reader just casually just says their a billionaire, like it's normal- how would they react to this?

Please take care of yourself & stay safe !! 💖

a/n: you take care too!!! Sorry to all my followers for not posting in forever 😔 I had family stuff going on, and I’m a bit burnt out so I couldn’t come up with story plots for some of the characters

konig:

-konig is a well off man to begin with, but doesn’t use much of the money he earns with his impressive title as he has little idea what to actually buy when it comes to things being worthwhile, and hence since you give him so many gifts, his house is mostly filled with gifts then actual things he bought

-always took the gifts at face value and adored the thought put into them and never really thought to think of how much money you must spend

-eventually though, one of his few off duty friends asked why he had such high class things in his house as they pointed out gifts you had simply given him and he started to get quite curious himself

-called you up one night to ask, waking you up as he asked a simple “uh- maus? You know the mixer you got me last week when I said I wanted to make cookies is 800 dollars, why??”

-you had to stop laughing out loud from his confusion since you thought you had been open with it due to the amount of things you simply gave him

Roach:

-stayed in his cramped barracks a lot of the time and very rarely replaced any of his tearing gear because he was too tired to do so, he just generally didn’t care how the public saw him and had little care on himself

-of course that changed when you practically threw him new clothes, new gear, new facial care for his tiny apartment he used when off duty. He started to actually enjoy getting to indulge in a massage or a face mask while he simply felt all clean

-of course, he thought it was all temporary, that you were just spending a particular amount on a well paying month, but as it went on and on continued, he started to get more and more confused

-one day when you took him on a shopping trip, he saw you check your checking account and THATS when he realized that you planned to pay for his every whim personally and could without damage… a very flustering experience

Ghost:

-never truly is off guard even when off duty or around people, it’s built into him from trauma and past and his job doesn’t help to much with that

-however, he does have a particularly interesting hobby that calms him down more then most things can, even you (although he adores you with all his heart). And that hobbies is photography. Of things he enjoys, that is. He never put money into a very good camera, never seeing the need in doing so until you bought him one…

-he cherishes that camera more then he cherishes his mask, which is saying quite a bit. He didn’t know how much he actually needed the upgrade till he saw the difference in his photos

-he of course, shows it off to his team. And soap points out exactly how pricey it must be for a lil old therapist to buy. he starts to get worried, did you spend money you didn’t have on him? Did he take away from your own funds? Did he just take it and not think about the damage you might have created yourself without even thinking twice???

-calls you on his burner phone in a tiny bit of a panic, but it doesn’t show too much under his gruff tone. He lets out a sigh he didn’t notice he was holding in once you told him that you in fact had the money to buy that camera 100 times over

[sleepysnk]

a/n: hey everyone! i’m so excited to bring this piece to you all. this goes along with my sugar daddy collab! <3 i hope you all enjoy this! 🫶🏻

pairings: kokonoi hajime x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, smut, sugar daddy!koko, age gap (reader is 21 and koko is 25), oral sex f!receiving, mentions of oral sex m!receiving, unprotected sex, use of pet names (baby, pretty thing, baby girl, good girl, princess), some degradation, light choking, car sex, edging, creampie, possessive behavior, kinda angst (?), very fluffy koko.

synopsis: you’re a college student looking to buy the things you want. koko comes to your aid and is able to grant you every wish you desired. from handbags to makeup that was worth more than anything you owned, he gave you it all. you have a long list of items, but what happens when you ask koko for his debit card and not just one item?

head over heels ft. kokonoi hajime

Your eyes shifted over the many items in your shopping cart. The time displayed on your laptop screen showed that it was nearly one o’clock in the morning. You were fully aware that you should have been peacefully sleeping in your bed by now, but you were far too deep in your shopping to even think about any shut eye. 

Summer break was fast approaching and your university classes were soon coming to a close since the end of the semester was nearing its end. With that idea in mind, you grew sort of lazy and only did so much homework before feeling completely burned out. It was a common occurrence with many students your age. Your brain knew that the end was coming, so it set you into a certain mode where all you wanted to do was shut down and not do anything else. It was difficult, especially for the professors. However, you were passing all of your classes with high A’s and you had no reason to panic. You always kept up with your schoolwork like any proper student would, and now you were celebrating with a little retail therapy.

With break on the horizon, you had the desire to buy new things. Whether it was new clothes, a fresh new set of shoes, or just some makeup, you wanted to splurge a little. It wouldn’t hurt to have some new additions to your closet, right? 

Unfortunately, like many students you attended college with, you were quite broke. You had a part time job, but none of that money was able to go to things you wanted. You often had to save your checks for proper necessities like groceries and gas for your car. Sure, your roommate assisted with food and other things along those lines, but you didn’t want her to bear the brunt of it all. In the end, you were only left with a good one hundred fifty dollars. Sometimes, if you were lucky, you would have close to two hundred, but those weeks were rare. It was difficult to save, but the circumstances were never in your favor. You honestly couldn’t wait to graduate, but that left you with debt that would take you years to pay off. 

Now while that did stop you a majority of the time, you had an alternative option for buying the things you wanted. 

A little over three months ago, you and your friends were all hanging around inside your dorm. Your conversations were casual until your friend, Emma, had suggested downloading this app that involved meeting sugar daddies. At first, you were completely blown away by your friend's statement. You and your friends tried to protest that the app was probably a scam, because you had seen those types of things happen before. You’d offer them your banking information and then all of your funds would be taken from you in the matter of minutes. Plus, there were tons of weird men on those kinds of apps. Sometimes they would completely lie about their status just to receive whatever they wanted. Emma completely shut you and your friends down, and offered proof to help her case. When she brought it to the table, you were astounded. There had been multiple men that had sent her almost a thousand dollars each. She even claimed some didn’t ask for naked photographs, and they just sent it with zero hesitation behind it.

At first, you were stunned. 

Of course, that kind of offer seemed almost unnatural from how Emma made it look. A majority of the time those people were scammers or they wanted some kind of sexual advance for payment. Nowadays you couldn’t trust such a thing, but Emma had the proof. There were men sending her all kinds of money, and to be honest, you wanted in on that. You would have to do some digging is all. 

Once your friends had gone back to their own dorms, you decided to download the app. You chose some nice photos of yourself for your profile and began swiping on the plethora of men on your screen. It was almost like a sugar daddy tinder. For the first few minutes, you were met with lots of older guys. Some of them could have been your fathers age, so that’s why you decided to change your age range. Though, you had lots of discouragement for a while. A majority of the guys were genuine catfishes and you could tell by their profiles. The obvious cropping and misinformation was a clear sign of that. Some of them seemed like genuine creeps too. The one that looked promising almost always had a flaw along with them, and it was becoming quite annoying. How did Emma manage to discover the right men? This had to be pinned against you because all of the sugar daddies on that app were fucking weird. 

To be frank, you had started to believe that it was unlikely you’d find anything promising. The men you did have conversations with were disgusting or it was obvious they were trying to steal your debit card information. 

That ultimately changed when you came across a certain profile that seemed almost too good to be true.

Koko, 25

You were just about to delete the app when you came across the man’s profile. It was already almost two in the morning, but you were enthralled by the man on your screen. He was quite handsome and he seemed to live a very luxurious lifestyle. Your eyes widened when you saw that he was sitting on a Mercedes with many other cars beside it. He was so dreamy with his black and white hair that was dyed in different sections. There was a single earring that hung from his right ear, and there was even a photo of him sticking his tongue out. He owned more than your college tuition and car payment combined. It was hard for you to believe that a man like him was on such an app, but the most shocking thing was that he was only five miles away. Meaning, he was very close to you. It almost seemed like a fucking trap with how perfect it looked on the outside. There was no way this man was real. Behind the screen, there must have been a fifty year old man sitting in his crusty boxers. 

Despite that, you took a risk and swiped right on the man. 

You went to bed and didn’t ponder the app any longer. You assumed that if he was real, he probably wouldn’t bat an eye at you. He’d just keep swiping and leave it as that, right?

Wrong, so very wrong.

The next morning, you awoke and checked your phone as usual. You had notifications from your friends or random emails from your professors, but what you didn’t expect was a message from that app. 

Koko sent you a new message!

Your heart dropped inside your chest when you saw the message for the first time. You thought you were just having a dream, but Koko had actually messaged you. You immediately went to open it and see what he had said. You were honestly expecting one of those usual scam messages that are insanely filled with random emojis, but it was the exact opposite of that.

Koko: hey pretty thing <3 

For a little while, you contemplated replying to him. He could be a catfish for all you knew. He could also be trying to sweet talk you into taking your money, so you had to play it cool. It took you a while to actually trust the man behind the screen, but he eventually shared his phone number and the two of you began to frequently chat throughout the day. Koko had revealed he was a businessman. He never specified what it was, but he informed you that he made lots of money and he wasn’t married so there was nothing to spend it on except for himself. He was about four years older than you. The only reason he joined the app was to find someone to share that cash with, and that’s exactly what the man wanted to do with you. Koko also proved he wasn’t a scammer by any means and he would be willing to buy you whatever you wanted. 

But, at a price.

Koko had proposed a deal for you both. He had no problem being your sugar daddy by any means. He told you that if there was anything you needed from him, he would buy it with no hesitation. However, he wanted something in return. There was a reason you were his sugar baby. 

Koko offered to give you what you wanted after you had sex with him, or gave him something in exchange for your item. He told you that the higher the price of your gift, the higher you would have to work to receive it. It was quite a shock to you to hear such a thing, but you did want a sugar daddy. Koko had even mentioned he would never force you into a situation that you didn’t want, but he wanted you to keep your end of the deal no matter what. At first, you were unsure of it all. He was a handsome guy, he made lots of money, and all you would have to do was fuck him to have anything you so pleased. It was nerve wracking, though. You were going to be intimate with a man who was older than you, and he was going to give you anything you wanted after? There was a lot to ask, but you weren’t sure how to bring it up.

After a long phone call with the man, you had fully agreed to the terms he set for you. Koko had also explained to you that if at any point you would like to terminate it, he had no issue with that. You were relieved to hear such a thing. At least he wasn’t some deeply obsessed man who wouldn’t let you go if you asked.

The very first time you wanted to buy something, you were nervous. You were on Sephora, browsing the different eyeshadow palette’s or lipsticks you thought would fit nice on your skin. You had placed a few items into your cart. Your eyes drifted to the total and your chest practically started hurting the moment you saw it. It came out to $157.67. Part of you wasn’t so sure if you should ask Koko. It was his money, and you would always feel bad whenever any friend or family member spent money on you. You knew you wouldn’t have to give Koko a single cent back, but what would he say? There was a chance he would laugh at you and say no to the offer. It would piss you off, yes, but that thought was lingering in the back of your mind. You hesitated to send him the message with the total, but you eventually pressed send and left your phone to sit and wait. Your heart was racing so fast that you thought you would have had a heart attack back then. 

Within minutes, you received a reply, and his response made shivers ghost down your spine.

Koko: send me a video of you fingering yourself <3 and send me the link afterwards

After a long while of internal panic, you eventually sent Koko the video. There was silence for a little while on his end. You hoped that he didn’t somehow block you or he just lied to get what he wanted. There was a chance Koko had completely set you up, and he was going to steal the video for his own personal benefit. God, you prayed that wasn’t the case. 

Though, after ten minutes, Koko replied with a screenshot of your order. He also praised you for what you had sent him. He claimed you were one of the most beautiful women he had ever laid his eyes upon, and those comments made your cheeks burn with embarrassment. For a man who was only supposed to be your sugar daddy, he seemingly had a lot to say about your appearance. You weren’t complaining about that factor, though. You would have much rather had him commenting on that than being a weird creep asking for more. He was gladly proving himself as a respectable man, and you had gotten a new present out of it. You were very satisfied with that, and all of those worries that had you anxious disappeared once he shared that he had purchased your makeup. 

You frequently sent nudes to Koko for whatever you wanted. You began receiving many gifts and random packages that filled your room quicker than you had expected. It wouldn’t be an overstatement to say that Koko was spoiling you rotten with his money. He didn’t seem to have much of a problem with that either. Any time you would protest, he would shut you up by sending you random payments. You could never argue with him either. He was quite stubborn at times. 

Eventually, there came a point where you both desired to meet one another.

He planned a nice date for you two. He offered to pick you up and he even proposed the idea of taking you shopping afterwards. If you didn’t have extra studying to do, you would have taken the opportunity to go and buy some things with him. However, you declined due to your own personal things. You were very nervous to meet him. This would be the first time you saw him in person, but you had this urge to finally see the man who had been giving you money. You were all over the place when the evening arrived. When he messaged you that he was outside, you almost completely chickened out and told him you didn’t want to anymore. However, with the help of your friends and your roommate, you were able to face Kokonoi Hajime in all of his glory. 

You didn’t expect to see such a fine man, but what you weren’t expecting the most was sleeping with him that night.

The dinner had gone quite well between you both. Koko was polite, handsome, and overall a gentleman with you. The place you went to was divine and you would have never expected you would have eaten at such a great restaurant. 

Things quickly changed once the two of you had gotten into Koko’s expensive BMW. The atmosphere had shifted and there was this ache that formed between your legs. It could have been the aroma of his luxurious cologne, or the way he gripped the steering wheel as he drove. It honestly felt like this man had casted a spell on you. You just couldn’t stop yourself from kissing him at the red light. One thing led to another, and you ended up in Koko’s high rise apartment with your legs thrown over his shoulders. The sex you both indulged in was like no other. Koko wasn’t anything like those lame college guys you hooked up with. He showed you what it was like to actually fuck someone, and it only left you craving more of your sugar daddy. He worked wonders on your body, and he knew exactly where to touch you to have you melting within his grasp. You only craved more of him as the days went on, and eventually, you two started seeing one another more often. 

Whether it was giving him a blowjob for a new pair of heels, or letting him eat your pussy until you made a mess on his face, Koko was intoxicating and you only wanted him at the end of the night. 

You chewed on your bottom lip at Koko’s contact. You had no idea if the man was still awake at this dead hour. However, you decided to snap a photo of your total and message your sugar daddy. If he didn’t see it at that hour, he would probably see it the next morning and decide what to do. 

You: koko, i want these

You: [image]

You clicked your phone off and sat there for a few minutes. There was silence from your phone, so it was just a waiting game. You hoped he was awake but you weren’t forcing a response right away. You were very patient with him. Koko had a busy lifestyle, so it was understandable if he was exhausted after a long day. 

Those thoughts you had were interrupted by the vibration of your cell phone. You reached for it and was surprised to see that Koko had texted you back. 

Koko: for sure baby

Koko: you better let me pick you up 🤍 that price is high 

Your eyes grew wide at his request. It was late, very late. Your roommate was asleep in her bed already and you technically weren’t supposed to be wandering campus at that hour. Sneaking out wouldn’t be that difficult, but knowing how Koko was in bed, you knew you wouldn’t be home the next morning. Usually, you would decline and say no, but you hadn’t seen Koko at all much recently. Not gonna lie, you needed your fix of him and you wanted to see his handsome face. It wasn’t like you could message him randomly to fuck. He probably wasn’t into something like that. 

You: okay

You: atp i deserve your debit card 🙄

You were joking when you sent that reply, but you brushed that aside to go and prepare yourself for what was to come. Koko didn’t live very far from your university. He worked in the city which was not a far drive from campus, but you hardly drove there unless you absolutely had to. Koko also would pick you up. He honestly considered you his little passenger princess because of how often he would come and get you. He always picked you up in a different vehicle, though. Sometimes, he would let you pick the car he would drive you around in. It was such a luxury being Koko’s sugar baby. You couldn’t ask for anyone better.

You paused in your motions when your phone vibrated again. You grabbed it off of your bed and stared at the new text messages Koko had sent to you. 

Koko: my debit card? you really want that baby?

Your eyes widened at his reply. As much as you wanted to say no, having his card on you would give you easier access to getting the things you wanted without having to wait. 

You: i was kidding haha

Koko: i’m serious

Koko: do you want it? i don’t mind handing it over

Shock coursed through your veins at his reply. You said that as a joke, yet he sounded incredibly serious about it. You could never take Koko’s debit card like that. He often told you he had many due to having such an incredible amount of funds, but having one sounded dangerous. Though, it sounded like such a great idea. 

You: really??

Koko: yes princess

Koko: but that’s a serious trade.. if you want it you know you’ll have to pay up.

You knew full well that’s how the deal worked. He wouldn’t give away something unless there was a price at hand, which was understandable. You wondered what that might be. Koko could make sex more intense depending on the price of the item you desired. Usually, anything above two hundred was always going to involve a meet up. Whether it was just oral sex, or actual fucking. You fully assumed now that Koko was going to ask to meet up. You had no issue with that, of course, but the thrill of the situation made your thighs clench together. He was a man full of surprises. He showed you things in sex that no other man was capable of, so this could be a situation you would never forget. 

You began typing a response to the man. It was already nearly two o’clock in the morning, so you had to make a decision quickly. 

You: okay, i want your debit card koko

Sending that message was the reason you were in the situation you found yourself in now. You should have expected Koko to be the person he was, but you hadn’t expected him to pull over into a parking lot after he picked you up. You were in the backseat of his Mercedes with your thighs spread apart and his face deep between them. His tongue was buried into your pretty cunt that he had been wanting to taste for the last two weeks. Fuck, he missed you so much. He never could properly admit it out loud, but Koko wanted to see you more often than he should. You were always engraved in his mind at work. He would often fight with himself on sending you a message about your day, or simply asking what you were up to. He shouldn’t be thinking that way, but you were too difficult to resist.

Your head was lying against the cushion of his seats. Your fingernails tugged and pulled at the strands of Koko’s dual colored hair. One thing about Koko was that his head game was one of the best. He slurped and sucked on your clit with such ease, and it drove you up the wall. There was nobody else that could make you feel the way Koko made you feel. “K-Koko..! Ah.. yes! Right there!” you wiggled your hips upwards to gain more traction against his tongue. You were getting lost within him. All you could think about was him and only him.

The man shifted his eyes up at you. His pupils were slightly dilated from lust, and the pure sight of you made him only more turned on. Koko honestly couldn’t believe that such a fine woman like you ever gave him the time of day. You were perfect in every aspect. He couldn’t ever imagine himself involving another woman, but you. He honestly wondered if you felt the same way about him. In some ways, he hoped that deep down you did. Koko liked to believe that he gave you it all. He spoiled you rotten with his money and gave you all the sex you desired. He didn’t care what it might be. He would do anything for his precious sugar baby. “Yeah..? That feel good, baby girl? Heh.. you always taste as good as you look.” he used his thumb to rub circles on your clit that was swollen. You were a dripping mess when he took your panties off. It was amazing what he could do to you in just a matter of minutes. His presence alone winded you up.

He then attacked your cunt once again. His tongue swiped over your sensitive bud, earning several sharp gasps from your lips. He lapped up any slick that appeared on your pussy. He was practically eating you like you were his last meal. Koko was making you feel like you were on fire. His actions were the very thing igniting that spark within you. He could only smirk at the delightful noises that were slipping from your throat. He could listen to you like a song on repeat. 

Koko’s cock was aching inside his sweatpants. It was taking all of his strength to not completely ravage you, but that need was there. He was begging to be freed from his boxers that felt like they were closing in on him. Koko’s hold on your thighs tightened and his tongue began to move quicker, sending bolts of electricity along your abdomen from the pleasure. Your breathing had become quite heavy and your hold on his hair had tightened. He could tell that you were absolutely enjoying yourself right now. It only stroked that ego he had deep within him. He averted his gaze for a brief moment to stare at your stunning features that were twisted with pleasure. The expressions on your face made him smirk while he ate you out. He couldn’t wait to be inside of that pussy he loved so much. He craved you more than he would like to admit. Sometimes, he would find himself jerking off to your videos or photos you had sent him. His fist never compared to the way your pretty cunt would suck him in.

You were close, so fucking close. Koko could make you cum by just eating you out, which was honestly a talent. The knot inside your belly was tightening with every motion of his tongue. All you sought was that burning desire within yourself. Koko could tell by your body language and your voice that you were about to reach your peak. He wasn’t ready for you to cum yet. He wanted you to be wound up just a bit more before he’d allow that to occur. Plus, you were only ever allowed to cum on his cock.

Koko then retracted himself away from your cunt. A mix of his spit and your slick covered his chin, to which he wiped off with his hand. You whined at the loss of contact, and the denial of your orgasm. He could be so unfair sometimes with you. “Koko.. I need you..” you took his hand into yours, intertwining your fingers together. 

He could see the desperation in your eyes, and in your voice. Koko then kissed your palm and smiled at you with those nice teeth of his. He thought you were so cute like that. All whiny and needy for him to be inside of you. He wasn’t going to let you wait any longer, because as much as it sounded selfish, he wanted to fuck you too. It had been far too long since the man had played with his favorite girl. He missed you more than anything else, and all he wanted was your presence near him. “I’m here, baby.. don’t you worry.” he then leaned down towards your lips, pressing a small kiss onto you. It was sweet, and tender.

Koko pulled away after a few seconds. He then began to untie the loops of his sweatpants, pulling them downward so he could free his cock that had been aching to be freed since he took you into the backseat. Some pre-cum leaked from the tip, which he wiped off with his thumb. He tossed them somewhere in the front seat and plopped down in one of the seats. He motioned for you to come towards him. “Come here..” he patted his lap, eyeing you like you were his prized possession. 

You sat up, maneuvering yourself onto his lap so both of your thighs were on either side of him. Koko’s hands settled on your waist, taking in the touch of your soft skin. He could never get enough of how delicate you felt underneath his fingertips. It was like he was touching flower petals, silky and smooth. You were the prettiest one in the garden though. Koko positioned himself at your soaked entrance. He glided his tip against your folds, causing you to softly moan from the friction. You were so fucking wet. He loved seeing what he was able to do to your body. Seeing you up above him made his heart swell with warmth. You were like a goddess in his hands. He couldn’t believe that someone like you wasn’t in a relationship, or at least talking with someone. You deserved love. 

Could he be the one to grant that?

After some small teasing of your slit, he pushed himself inside your pussy. The two of you let out noises at the contact. Your hands squeezed at Koko’s shoulders, holding onto him as he guided your hips onto his cock. You were so tight. You hugged his dick so well that he could almost moan from how great it was. He never got tired of how your cunt felt. “Koko..! So big.. fuck..” you looked down at his shaft that was filling you up and stretching you to almost your limit. He was big, probably the biggest you’ve ever taken.

Once he was fully bottomed out, he began to thrust into your cunt. The angle was just perfect for him. Your tits were practically in his face, and every little movement caused them to bounce. If he could, he would tape every single moment of your sexual encounters. He could watch them like movies and be able to recall every little detail. Koko groaned at how nicely you sucked his cock in. He held your hips firmly and would occasionally squeeze the plush of your ass. You were just too fucking good. He never was exhausted of fucking your brains out. You were completely in utter bliss. This felt much different than before. You weren’t sure why. You assumed that maybe it was because you were both fucking in his car or maybe because you hadn’t seen Koko in weeks, but that didn’t matter. All you could focus on was the gorgeous man who was buried into your guts right now.

Koko’s pace began to increase. He found it much harder to hold back now. He had these urges that needed to be released, and after all, you were going to earn his debit card once this was all set and done. He wanted to fuck you so good that any time you stared at it you would remember what he made you feel that night. “Fuck.. so good, baby.. takin’ my cock so well. You’re such a good girl..” he gritted his teeth. “You’re my good girl, yeah? Tell me baby..” 

You stared into his lustful eyes. The pleasure in your gut was so good that you were beginning to lose focus on the situation. He was grabbing and touching you in all the right spots that made you like putty in his hands. “Mmph! Yes.. ah! Yes, Koko..” you whined, pressing your forehead against his. 

The heat inside of the car began to gradually increase from your actions. Sweat was clinging to your skin, and some of Koko’s hair was sticking to his forehead. Neither of you gave much care to that fact, because you were too lost in the moment to even think about that. Koko couldn’t help but stare at you. Your pretty face was all contorted with euphoria and your gorgeous body was so smooth within his hands. He couldn’t think of a greater image. He knew the night he fucked you for the first time that he wanted to see you again. He didn’t want someone like you to slip through his fingers, so that’s why he continued to pursue you. There was so much to like about you beyond the sex. Your personality, your smile, that beautiful laugh. He could name so much more, but it’d take him years to finish. He knew it wasn’t right. Thinking of his sugar baby as something more, but he couldn’t help himself. You were a drug he couldn’t stop coming back to.

Koko’s hand went to wrap around your throat, keeping your head in place so you made eye contact with him. He squeezed slightly, blocking some of the air from entering your lungs. Your nails scratched into his skin from the lack of oxygen. “Shit.. so fucking good f’me..” he looked into your cloudy eyes. “Fuck.. you like being my slut..? Whoring yourself out for my money.. fuck, I love spoilin’ you, princess..”

All you could do was nod and let out a small whine. He then released your throat and smiled to himself at your reaction. He knew no matter what you would always love spending his money on shit you wanted. He didn’t care how much it was either. He loved what was to come before the purchases. Though, the after made him even happier. Seeing your smiling face when he buys you gifts makes all the darkness in his day disappear. “K-Koko..” you leaned your head downwards so it was now buried into his shoulder. “Fuck.. love being y-your slut!”

Koko couldn’t hide the smirk that had written itself on his features. Of course you loved it. You always slithered back to him and that’s exactly how he knew. He decided to speed things up and begin fucking you at such a rough pace. His tip rapidly pressed against your g-spot, making white stars appear in your vision from how intense it was. 

It was moment’s like this where Koko didn’t want the night to end. He wished he could fuck you like this all of the time, but that only happened whenever you needed something. That was the deal, after all. He didn’t want to overstep your boundaries and possibly cause problems in your agreement. Koko had his urges, though. He wanted to randomly arrive at your place and just have you all to himself with no sort of item being the sole reason why. It sounded selfish, he was well aware of that, but you were the first girl to ever want to see him for a date rather than just a hookup. Sure, sugar daddies often treated their sugar babies to dates at divine restaurants, but to Koko that was something special. He knew that you probably thought of it as something common, but he never did that with just anyone he came across. Dates, sex, money, all of those things could make Koko easily attached to somebody else. Despite his brain telling him not to, he wanted you. 

He wanted you all to himself. 

He knew thinking such a thing was wrong, but the thought of someone else spoiling you with their money angered him. Seeing your body in all its glory and only toying with you made him want to go after whoever that might be. He was the only one who should be giving you the things you wanted. He should be the only one pounding your pussy until you’re almost squirting onto his cock from how great it is. You were his sugar baby. You shouldn’t rely on any other man but him to give you what you need. 

Koko reached forward to hold your face with his one hand, forcing you to look at him. Your eyes were half-lidded and you had this gorgeous fucked out expression on your features. His eyes flickered from your face then towards those glossy lips. “You’re mine.. right, princess?” No one is better than me..” his voice was deep and sort of hoarse from how much he had been groaning and grunting. 

Your walls quivered around his cock, earning a breathy chuckle from Koko. He didn’t think you would have such a reaction, but it turned him on so much. You liked when Koko was possessive over you. He had no idea, but he was for sure going to use that to his advantage. You were making such a mess on his dick too. “Y-Yes, Koko! All yours.. ah!” you nodded your head vigorously at his question. You only desired more from the man. He was making you feel things that nobody else has ever made you feel. 

Your orgasm was creeping up on you. The pool of heat inside your gut was reaching its boiling point, making you all the more needy for Koko. He could feel your walls clenching and closing around his cock, making his own pleasure increase from how tight you felt. His favorite part was watching you reach your high, because your reactions were just so sexy. He loved making you cum like the little slut you were for him. His hands gripped your hips tightly, allowing him to fuck himself upwards into you at that same pace that would send your mind into a frenzy. He was abusing your g-spot only allowing his name to slip from your plump lips. His balls were smacking against your puffy clit, making all kinds of lewd noises inside of the car.

Koko leaned in and captured your lips onto his. A sloppy kiss erupted between the two of you. He swallowed down any moans that came from your throat. He almost chuckled again when he felt you struggling to kiss him back. You were both chasing your releases, becoming so desperate for one another. Koko almost bit down on your lip from how close he was, but he refrained and pulled away. “Gonna cum..? C’mon, baby, cum on my fucking cock..” he leaned towards your ear, nibbling on your skin. “Shiittt, ‘m gonna cum inside this p-pretty cunt, pretty thing.”

You let out a cry of pleasure as soon as that knot snapped. Your orgasm hit you hard. Your whole body trembled and shook, sending shivers down your spine. Koko squeezed your hips hard enough to leave bruises when he reached his own climax. The way your pussy spasmed and clamped down on him made his high come faster than he had expected. His cum filled your walls, creating a mess that consisted of your arousal and his around his cock to make it seem white. 

You let yourself slump onto his body. The two of you panted, trying to recover from your orgasms. A layer of fog had blanketed the window and both of you were quite messy. Koko rested his arm around your waist, placing his chin atop of your head. In all honesty, he didn’t want to let you go home yet. He wanted to sit there for a few minutes just bathing in your embrace, because he knew the moment you went home he would go back into his empty bed and imagine you lying beside him in his sheets. He also feared possibly staining the seats of his car by pulling out, so he decided to just keep himself inside you for a little while. Neither of you had anywhere to be at that moment. 

There was a comfortable silence that surrounded you. It was broken when Koko cleared his throat and reached for his wallet that was in the pocket of his sweatpants he had discarded earlier. He opened it and removed his debit card from the many spots he had in his wallet. He also reached into it and pulled out several one hundred dollar bills. “This is for you, baby.” he then reached under your shirt and shoved the bills into your bra. He also slid his debit card along with the cash. You were surprised to see him put them there, but it was Koko of all people. He always had the ability to catch you off guard.

You looked down at Koko. You seemed quite tired and he could sense it from your lazy body language. You were so cute when you were sleepy. “Thank you, Koko..” you touched his cheeks with your hands, rubbing your thumbs against his skin. A smile made its way onto your features from his gesture.

He pecked your lips, bringing your body closer to his. Your touch made him melt from how warm it was. “Anything for you..” he buried his face into your neck, inhaling your natural scent. His mind only thought of you for the rest of the evening. He hoped that maybe, just maybe, you would see him as someone more than just your sugar daddy.

[me-writes-prompts]

hello! I wanted to say I love your prompts :) and also ask if you would write "enemies to lovers hired killers" prompts, pls?

(Omg yes yes yes, enjoy!)

By @me-writes-prompts

“Thought you were to assassinate me, not fall in love, dummy.”

Them having to partner up in order to take down a strong rival.

^^ “I’ve realized you’re not as insufferable, but you’re still an ass.” “As if you’re any better than me. Dare I say, worse.”

“You know, when I saw your face and name first, I didn’t think you’d be anything less than deadly. However, now…I see that you’re nothing but a short little firecracker.” “I’m not short, and certainly not a firecracker!” “You don’t even reach my shoulders, darling<333.”

“Let’s just get this straight, I’m here to do nothing but tear you to shreds. So do not, and I repeat, do not start crying to me about your low pay as a hired killer again.” “Aww, why not?! We had a great therapy session last time. I didn’t realize you were so good at listening when all you do is run your mouth. ” The other just facepalms.

Them having to partner for a case together, but all the time they’re just trying to off each other instead of the actual target.

[certifiedsexed]

Hi! So, I'm asexual. I know I'm asexual. Like, I didn't realize sex was something people my age were engaging in until I was in like grade 11 because I felt such a disconnect and assumed media just blew everything about sex way out of proportion. I'm also somewhere between sex repulsed and sex neutral. The thought of having sex either seems like and absolute chore (on good days) or is something that makes me feel- no joke- pure , visceral revulsion at the mere thought (on bad ones.) However, I WANT to want sex more than anything. I think on SOME days I'd be ok with being the recieving partner, but I'd never want to reciprocate (ESPECIALLY when it comes to oral sex, thats is something I have always had a really strong negative reaction to thinking about) but being willing to take it and not reciprocate out seems unfair to whoever I'd be with (i've been told it's selfish or rude when i've expressed this to friends), even if me engaging in any sort of sexual activity in the first place would be for their sake (relationships are about compromise and thats a compromise I'd be okay with). That said, I'm not sure a partner out there like that exists and I'm tired of the well meaning bullshit I get from friends being like 'you'll find someone who's gonna love you for you' because no, I haven't and chances are I won't. I'm biromantic, but I experience more attraction to women but still wouldn't really want to have sex with any of them, and considering theres a lot of buzz about how 'lesbian sex is the best sex' because both partners typically consistently and frequently get off, it seems like a bit of a reach to think I could find a girl willing to date me who doesn't want sex. Yes, other asexual folks exist, but considering i don't tend to advertize the fact I'm ace and because I don't dress in a way that could get me clocked as queer, I don't tend to meet a lot (read, any) ace people in my daily life. ANYWAY this is kind of a really in depth plea of me basically asking if there is any resource or literature that can teach me or make me not necessarily DESIRE sex (because I know that can't happen) but mentally become okay with engaging in sex. Like could I, a generally sex repulsed asexual, somehow become a sex favourable asexual through some sort of therapy or other means?

Hi!

Here's the thing, Anon. It's not unfair, selfish or rude to prefer not to reciprocate and/or "take it" during sex. That's just a preference. In fact, in the lesbian community, that's often called being a "stone bottom".

Your friends are in fact incorrect and you should know that having sexual preferences like that are never unfair or rude: you just have to communicate with your partner(s). It's literally fine.

But also, you're talking about being sex repulsed. Sex feels like a chore to you. It's not a good idea to look at sex as a chore you're willing to do for your partner. Especially when sex does make you feel ill often enough it's worth noting.

I'm not saying you can't do it but I am saying if you don't pay attention to your own boundaries, you might just wind up resenting your partner and not being able to tell where your "Hard No's" [As in boundaries that are non-negotiable and that you are not compromising on!!!] are.

It's okay if sex is a Hard No for you, even if it doesn't always make you feel ill. That's your right.

And yes, there is a lot of buzz about lesbian sex being the best. (Which partially has a lot to do with lesbophobia and the cisheteronormative views on lesbian sex "not even being sex".) But that does not mean it's a reach that another girl would want to date you without sex.

It doesn't have to be a girl who doesn't want sex, Anon; there are so many different ways to have sex and ways people enjoy it. For example, there are people who only enjoy masturbation or simply don't mind not having sex with others, especially if it means they can date someone they like.

I genuinely can't help you on finding something that will make you "okay" with engaging in sex and I'm really sorry, Anon.

You could try a sex therapist (they're supposed to be equipped for all manners of issues related to sex) but I don't feel comfortable pointing to any specific therapy methods when a lot of them are based in the idea people are "wrong" in some way for being sex repulsed and they're often hurtful and unhealthy.

But I can say that I'd really recommend joining some online ace communities, specifically with other lesbians/sapphics and talk to some other ace people there. This isn't a you issue, Anon, these are all very common worries that ace people, specifically alloace people have and it might help to talk to other people with similar experiences.

I wish I could help more. Let me know if you have any other questions, Anon. <3

[jenny-in-a-jar]

🖤💙 4 days until my Surgery 💙🖤

(Picture taken Dec 9th, 2023)

I'm very very excited for my surgery (it's my second gender affirming surgery but this one is more significant to me since it'll be top and bottom surgery) and I'm obviously counting the days until it and I thought some people might be interested in my trans journey 🏳️‍⚧️ So see part 7 below the cut.

Part 1 here

As the summer was ending, I got really lucky! A lesbian hairstylist (who helped organize the drag show I went in the last update) gave my name to this sales lady who sold accounting work to like companies and she needed help with researching CEO and CFO types. And she paid me out of pocket and honestly it was pretty easy internet research using Google. I felt like a little rat scurrying across the Internet 🐀 So, thank you lesbians 🙏🙏

(Picture taken Nov 6th, 2022)

Apparently I really impressed her so she got me hired full time as a sales admin for her company (I wouldn't have gotten with my lack of a college degree without her) and I've had that job since! And a lot of my transition wouldn't be possible without the pay and benefits of this job. Also this is my first job where I get gendered correctly and I'm slowly getting less anxious about going to the bathroom at work 🥰

She honestly mom'd up on me and bought me a bunch of new business casual clothes for the job. And here's an example of one of my new work outfits 😁

(Picture taken Nov 14, 2022)

Bc of the new job I was able to afford a lot more things for transitioning! Like voice training. I remember when I first cracked I tried to just teach myself using videos but I wasn't good at it 😅 Also a friend during the summer of 2022 helped me and I did make some progress with her help. But, I started making a lot more progress once I started seeing a speech therapist. But, there was a barrier since I could tell she hadn't worked too much with trans people. I went to a speech therapist bc it was covered by my insurance but she moved and then I couldn't find anyone for insurance covered speech therapy. So, I eventually just paid for lessons Your Lessons Now. And, honestly it's going a lot better! It's really nice to be able to talk about my frustrations with voice training with another transfem. The biggest thing I'm learning from here is how to break the bad habit of pitching up my voice by squeezing my vocal chords.

(Picture taken Sept 8th, 2023)

I had also switched to injections and I highly recommend it! A friend even made my first two vials into earrings 🔥

I also got a lot lazier with makeup 😅 I do eyeliner wings, mascara, and blush for when I go into the office. Which for a bunch of accountants means I do about as much makeup that is normal for the women in the office 🤷‍♀️

(Pictures taken October 31st and December 2nd of 2022)

These were two notable exceptions. I really love the makeup I did for the Halloween of 2022 bc I decided to go as a ghost-type trainer. And the one on the right is when I learned how to use concealer to cover my 'raccoon eyes' as my dad liked to call them 🦝

Also this would be a good time to mention something I probably should've mentioned earlier 😅 I never learned how to use foundation. I know it's easy but I have a weird mental block around it 🤷‍♀️ But, in the summer of 2021 I started doing twice daily skincare routine for my face. Which took me from a very acne heavy face to people being surprised I'm not wearing foundation. Also the routine is really nice. Would recommend to those who want to get rid of their acne (send an ask if you want to know specifics).

(Picture taken Aug 20, 2023)

Romance update since I've been doing that lol: Well, things ended with all the girlfriends I had so I am down to 1 partner. And I got caught in a romance scam for a few months 😭 However, I can't really complain because I got engaged!!! It was so sweet in cute. My partner and I had this date the night before Valentine's Day under a statue outside of a local art museum. We read sapphic poetry by candle light and then they popped the question 🥰🥰

But, I say another big part of this era was I made a lot more local trans friends. Went to a good amount of house parties which would've surprised pre-transition me! And I really love my community of queer people I've been building 🥺🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️💕

(Picture taken July 21st, 2023)

Oh yeah!! I also started laser hair removal at the beginning of 2021 as well. Which was before this era but time is a lie. But the new job definitely made it easier to afford.

The biggest step for my transition was getting my surgeries set up!! And my FFS (facial feminization surgery) marks the end of this era. Below was the last picture I took before my FFS.

(Picture taken Feb 17th, 2024)

So, in my next update, I'll be showing my post-op pictures once most of the swelling went down. See you tomorrow!! 😁✌️

Next Part Here

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 3, Unbidden - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, alcohol consumption, minor discussions of sex, drunk!Bucky, minor violence, FloRida's Low (that song slaps, okay?), minor anti-Winter Soldier sentiment, an unnecessary Ted Bundy reference just because. As always, let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 4.1k

Previously On...: You and Bucky had a heart-to-heart after you came back from your mission with Steve, and Bucky asked a very interesting question about the nature of your relationship with the Star Spangled Man.

A/N: I just finished writing Chapter 9 ahead of schedule, so here is Chapter 3 a little bit earlier than I planned on posting it! Consider it in honor of Sergeant Barnes' 107th Birthday! This is my favorite chapter; I had so much fun writing it, this part in particular (even though it took me a million tries before I got it to where I wanted it). Sam is finally given some page time, and I adore him, so I hope I've captured his essence sufficiently. I sort of love writing drunk!Bucky. Part three is where things are going to take an interesting turn for Bucky and Pocket so I'm looking forward to posting that soon!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!)  @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @jmeelee @cazellen

Slapping your American Express Black Card onto the polished mahogany bar, you made sure the bartender was giving you his full attention. "Everything my group orders tonight goes on my tab, got it?" you told him. "If Tony Stark tries to pay for a single thing, tell him it's already covered and if he has a problem with it, he can take it up with me." The bartender nodded, taking your card and depositing it with the other open tabs behind the bar. It was going to be a very lucrative night for the bar.

You'd all come to Gino's, a downtown dive of place you all loved, to celebrate Bucky's clearance for missions. As a part of his presidential pardon for the Winter Soldier's crimes (completely unnecessary, in your opinion, because Bucky hadn’t been the one to commit them), he had been required to undertake 12 months of court-mandated therapy, and now that he had ten months under his belt, his therapist had signed her approval for Bucky to engage in real Avenger work, provided he was accompanied by another member of the team at all times for supervision. He'd be leaving tomorrow for a classified location with Steve and Sam; they'd be gone for about a week, so you'd wanted to commemorate the event and leave him with some positive memories before he left.

You rejoined your group in the far back, where you'd commandeered the largest corner booth and the surrounding tables. "Tonight's on me," you declared as you approached, "so drink up and eat well." Your friends cheered their thanks; Thor even banged his giant fist against the table in appreciation. You did a mock curtsey before coming to stand behind Bucky where he sat, draping your arms around his neck and shoulders and bringing your head down alongside his.

"Having a good time?" you asked him.

Bucky let out a soft chuckle, leaning back into your touch. "With you by my side? Always," he replied, his voice laced with affection. "But you didn't have to do this, doll. Pay for everything, I mean. We could have all gotten our own."

Letting go of his shoulders, you moved around to sit next to him. "Bullshit. My best friend is going on his first Avengers mission, this is the least I can do."

"Listen, man," said Sam Wilson, also known as The Falcon and, if you were being completely honest, one of your favorite teammates after Bucky, "I know things might have been different when you were younger, but in the 21st Century, when a lady offers to buy you drinks, the polite thing to do is just say 'thank you' and get hammered."

Bucky laughed and chugged down the beer he'd been previously nursing and took the bourbon you'd brought over for him from the bar. "Thank you, Pocket. Though, I don't think I'll be getting... hammered on anything here."

"You're most welcome, Buck," you said, patting his cheek, the stubble tickling at your palm. "But if you are looking to get hammered, I believe our resident God of Thunder has brought a little something extra you could sip on in between beers." You nodded your head toward Thor, who sat a few seats down, pouring a splash of Asgardian something from a flask into Steve's tumbler.

Bucky quirked an eyebrow. "Is that so? Maybe I'll take him up on that." The super soldier got up and, squeezing your hand, made his way over to Thor, who gladly poured a generous splash of spirits into Bucky's glass of bourbon.

You watched him for a moment as he sat and drank with Steve and Thor, a warm feeling building in your chest at the sight of him looking and doing so well. He'd made so much progress since he first arrived at the Tower and you were unbelievably proud of him.

"You've been good for him, Pocket," Sam offered with a raise of his glass. "But I gotta know, when are you two gonna stop tip-toeing around each other and make things official?"

You let out an agonized groan. "Not you, too, Sam. Why don't you and Natty get together and write some fanfic about it? That's about as close to reality as it'll get."

"What are Wilson and I collaborating to write smutty fanfiction about?" Natasha asked as she sat down in Bucky's vacated seat, passing you a shot glass.

"Za nashu druzhbu!" You toasted in unison before downing the sweet liquid. To our friendship!

"A Redheaded Slut shot? How very Natasha," you teased.

"Don't try to change the subject," Sam interjected. "Romanoff: (Y/L/N) and Barnes. They go together like Netflix and chill or what?"

Natasha's eyes lit up. "Absolutely! Oh my God; I'm so glad you see it, too. They're just screaming 'Let's fuck already,' right?!"

"I don't know that they haven't started already," Sam said, obviously pleased to finally have someone to talk about this with. "I've never seen Metalhead as content as when he's with Pocket. Figure she's gotta be doing something to keep a smile on his face, if you know what I mean." He waggled his eyebrows, setting Natasha off into a barking laugh.

"Jesus Christ, Sam!" you sputtered. "I'm sitting right fucking here!"

Sam gave you a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Baby Girl. 'M just calling it like I see it. And with you and Barnes, I see it."

"She's going to stick to the story that nothing's going on between them," Nat began.

"Because there is nothing going on between us," you interrupted.

"But I think we all know something is brewing between those two," she continued, as if you hadn't said a thing. "I mean, do you really think they're just sleeping in the same bed every night?"

"Hold up, hold up." Sam raised his hand to stop Nat. "You're telling me those two share a bed? How long has this been going on and why am I just hearing about it now?"

"Oh my god," you said, putting your head in your hands and wishing the floor would open up and suck you into a hell dimension. It had to be better than sitting here listening to the two of them talk as if weren't in the room.

"You didn't know?!" Nat's expression was incredulous. "Essentially since the moment Barnes moved into the Tower. They alternate whose bed they sleep in, but it's literally every. single. night."

"That's it," you murmured, though you were sure they weren't paying you any attention, "I am never telling you another thing, ever, Natalia." They weren't embarrassing you, per se. You felt no shame about your closeness with Bucky. It was more that you hated that they were making assumptions about him. You could take ones made about you; you'd been doing that your entire life, but Bucky was different. He was... fragile wasn't the right word, but it came close. You wanted to protect him from everything negative, including your friends gossiping about his alleged sex life.

"Guys, please," you said, loud enough to catch their attention. "I know that, whatever I say, it's not going to convince you that I'm telling you the truth, but I don't want Bucky to hear it, okay? You're just going to make him uncomfortable and he'll retreat into himself, close up. So, save it for when you're by yourselves, alright?"

The sincerity in your words caused Sam and Nat's gazes to soften as they looked at you. You hoped that, despite their ribbing, they understood that your concern for your shared friend was genuine, and that, of the three of you sitting at the table, you knew Bucky best.

"Alright," said Sam, "I'll drop it. For now. But know I've got my eye on you, Pocket." He gave you a shrewd look. "Don't think you can keep your secret from Ole Sammy forever."

You shook your head, annoyingly amused.

The evening moved on pleasantly: conversation and alcohol flowed, and you felt yourself loosening up as the shots you'd drank with Natasha worked their way through your system until you were sporting a pleasant buzz. Bucky eventually came back to join you at your table, eyes glassy and with a giant, dopey grin plastered across his face.

"How's that Asgardian liquor treating you, Buckaroo?" you asked him with a grin of your own, knowing full well he was sauced.

"'s real good, Pocket," he slurred, propping his head on his fist and gazing at you with a dreamy expression. "'s nice and tingly, like the sun is shining on my insides."

"I'm happy for you, Buck," you said with a laugh, shooting an amused glance over Bucky's head to Nat, who responded with a smirk of her own. "That's real good."

He put his arms around you and pulled you into him, almost tugging you off of your chair in the process. "No! You're real good. Sho good to me, all warm and fuzzy and pretty. Just wanna keep touchin' you, you know? 'Cause you make me think of happy things." He paused to nuzzle his face into your hair. "You're m'favorite person."

"You're my favorite person, too, Buck," you said, stifling a giggle, amused by this new soft, silly side of him.

"Me?" he squeaked--actually squeaked. You nodded and then let out a surprised squeal as he pulled you into his lap, holding you almost tight enough to be uncomfortable, his metal arm clinging you to his chest. But then he pulled his head back to look you in the eye, his face suddenly serious.

He slurred, leaning in closer. You could smell the sweet scent of the Asgardian liquor on his breath. "Don'tcha dare tell Stevie, though, doll" he hiccupped, "'cause he'd be real put out if he found out I was your fav'rite."

"Well, then we won't tell him," you assured him, casting a bewildered glance to Nat. She subtly shook her head, as if to say she was just as confused as you as to why Steve would care if Bucky was your favorite person.

Bucky nodded solemnly. "Good. Don't want 'im feelin' bad, but 'm not sorry. 'S not my fault, either. He had ages and he didn't do nuthin'. That's on 'im. Not on me, not on you. On 'im." He began petting your hair in long strokes, seemingly distracted by the feel of it and losing his original train of thought. "Mmmm, you're so pretty. M'pretty little Pocket."

"Why, thank you, my handsome soldier," you replied, tapping him playfully on the nose while wondering what the hell he had been going on about concerning Steve. You hoped he wasn't so drunk that he didn't remember this conversation in the morning, because you were going to press the shit out of him for details.

Oh, but then... the next song from the jukebox caught your attention, and you looked up as the opening bars of Flo Rida's Low filled the air.

"Oh no," moaned Nat with a trace of laughter. "You're gonna dance, aren't you?"

A broad grin broke across your face. You loved dancing to anything, but this song was your kryptonite. "I can't help it," you told her, "it calls me, I come. Let's go!" You stood up, taking Bucky's hand and trying to pull him along with you, but the super soldier just shook his head and refused to move. Apparently he wasn't that drunk. "Fine. Sam, Nat, dance with me."

"I'm coming, Baby Girl," Sam said, taking Nat's hand and dragging her to meet you.

As soon as you had the space, you began to move, the music pulsing through your veins, syncing perfectly with your heartbeat. You swayed your hips in time with the infectious rhythm, your body moving effortlessly to the beat.

You felt Sam come up behind you, placing his hands on your hips as he began to dance with you, bass thumping in your chests. You and Sam had danced together countless times before; he was one of the only ones in the Tower who enjoyed dancing as much as you did, so the two of you had had plenty of practice moving together. Your movements may have been completely innocent, but they gave the appearance of something much more intimate-- it was just the nature of the dance. You could feel the heat of Sam's body pressed against your back, the way his hands gripped your hips protectively. It was all in good fun, a playful dance between friends, until you felt Sam's hands fly from your waist as you were about to get low.

You spun around, finding Bucky standing where Sam had been just a few seconds before, Sam now several feet away, anger wearing heavy on his face.

"What the hell, man?" Sam barked at Bucky. "What'd you shove me for?"

Bucky, his face flushed and eyes narrowed with a combination of intoxication and something dark, took a step towards Sam. "Didn't shove ya, Wilson," he slurred, his words blending together. "Ya just...got in the way."

"Got in the way? Man, we were just dancing. How was I in your way?"

Bucky's jaw clenched, his metal arm flexing by his side. The atmosphere shifted, thick with tension, as if the air in the room had suddenly turned molasses-slow.

"Okay, boys." You stepped between them, hands down and palms open, trying to create as much distance between the two as possible. The last thing you wanted was a drunken argument devolving into some kind of brawl. "It's getting late, and we've all had a good amount to drink." You gave Sam a pointed glance. "Bucky, will you take me home to the Tower? I'm pretty tired and I think I'm ready to call it a night."

Sam nodded in understanding-- it would be a hell of a lot easier to get Bucky home in his current state if he thought he was escorting you, instead of the other way around.

"Yeah, 'course, Pocket," Bucky said, his eyes softening as he looked at you. You were able to call out your goodnights to the rest of the team and, leaving instructions with Nat to close out your tab at the end of the night, began making your way to the door. Bucky stumbled a bit, his balance compromised by the alcohol in his system. You wrapped an arm around him, steadying him as you both made your way outside.

Outside the bar, the cool night air was a welcome relief from the noisy atmosphere inside. Bucky leaned heavily against you, his arm draped around your shoulders for support.

"Fuck, Barnes. You're heavy," you groaned under his weight.

"Fuck me, Pocket," he slurred, head tilting to the side. There was that look in his eyes again. The same one you'd seen the day he'd gotten his new arm. You couldn't identify it, but it made the hair on your arms stand up straight.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I said." You could feel his warmth seeping through your clothes, his presence comforting even in his intoxicated state.

"You good to stand on your own for a second, soldier?" you asked him. "I need to hail us a cab."

Bucky nodded and you carefully eased yourself out from under his arm, scanning the street for a taxi. The bustling city night was alive with lights and sounds, creating a tapestry of urban energy that seemed to match the frequency of the electricity that ran through your brain.

God, did you love this city.

As you raised your hand to flag down a cab, you couldn't help but steal glances at Bucky, his hair in disarray, falling into his eyes and his lips slightly parted as he breathed in the cool night air. Even drunk and disheveled, he still looked so handsome. There was a softness to him in the moment that made him look younger, and for a second, you could imagine that beautiful, carefree young man who had been drafted to cross the sea to fight someone else's war, and had paid for it with even more than his life.

A taxi screeched to a stop in front of you, interrupting your reverie. You hurriedly opened the door and helped Bucky inside, sliding in beside him. The cab driver gave you both a curious glance before pulling away from the curb. Once you gave him the address to Avengers Tower, that look got more and more frequent as he kept checking his rear view mirror.

"Hey, eyes on the road, buddy," you snapped at him, probably putting more aggression into your voice than you had intended, but the way the cab driver was looking at the two of you made you uneasy.

The ride back to the Tower was quiet, the low hum of the taxi's engine serving as a backdrop to the thoughts swirling in your mind. Bucky slumped against you, his head resting on your shoulder as he dozed off. You gently ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the softness of it against your skin. The city lights blurred past outside the window, casting a hazy glow over both of you.

"Listen," the cabbie eventually began in his thick New Jersey accent, "sweetheart, ya seem like a nice girl, but I don't think ya know what you're dealin' with, here. That man right there's the Winter Soldier. He's a murderer, a nasty one. The kind that likes to take a sweet thing like you and do horrible things."

You rolled your eyes. If they were going to keep telling stories about the Winter Soldier, the least they could do was get the details right instead of making him sound like Ted Fucking Bundy.

"This nasty murderer is my best friend," you said, each word clipped and infused with the anger you felt on Bucky's behalf. "So, maybe you should stick with getting us to our destination instead of trying to lecture me on something you know absolutely nothing about."

The cabbie fell silent, his eyes darting nervously between the road ahead and the rearview mirror. You could tell that he was regretting his decision to say anything, realizing that he had struck a nerve. Or, you thought with an amused chuckle, afraid that you were just as nasty as the Winter Soldier. But you couldn't blame him entirely. The reputation of the Winter Soldier was notorious, and it was only natural for people to be cautious. You just wished they knew the name Bucky Barnes, and the actual man, himself, just as well.

You sighed and shifted your gaze to Bucky, still unconscious against your shoulder. It wasn't fair, you thought, how people judged him solely based on his past. Yes, there were dark chapters in his history, but he had fought tooth and nail to regain control over his life. He had redeemed himself in countless ways even before he had officially joined the Avengers.

As the taxi approached Avengers Tower, you leaned over and gently shook Bucky awake. His eyes fluttered open, confusion etched in his features for a brief moment before recognition set in.

"We're home, Buck," you whispered softly, trying to soothe away any lingering unease from your brief conversation with the cab driver. "Let's get you upstairs." You threw a handful of bills in the cabbie's direction, not even bothering to wait for him to give you your change; you just wanted out of his cab and away from his prejudice.

Bucky nodded, rubbing sleep from his eyes. With your help, he stumbled out of the taxi and leaned on you for support as you made your way into the building.

"'m sorry 'bout that, doll," he drawled as you passed the security desk, sending a quick wave to the night guard.

"Sorry for what, Buck?" you asked him. He was silent as you made your way to the elevator bay, waiting until you had pressed the button to summon the elevator car.

"'bout the cabbie." He avoided looking at you while you waited, and it was like a punch to your gut-- he'd heard everything that ignorant man had said. The elevator doors dinged open and you helped usher him inside.

You took a deep breath as you pressed the button for your floor, the retinal scanner making quick work to prove your identity and verify your security clearance. "Buck," you exhaled, "you have nothing to apologize for. That man was an asshole and an idiot."

Bucky leaned back against the elevator wall, his head thumping against the cool metal. "But he was right. I am a nasty murderer."

You could scream. You could strangle that cabbie with your bare hands. Bucky had been doing so well, had been having such a good night, and one person's careless remark had ruined all of it.

"Barnes," you said, turning to face him. "Look at me. Do you think I'm stupid?"

His eyes grew wide at the insinuation, even in his drunk state, he was with it enough to be taken aback by your question. "'bsolutely not, doll. You're the smartest person I know. Smarter than Stark, even, 'cause you can admit when your wrong." The compliment left you trying to hide a smile.

"Okay. Do you trust my judgment?"

"With my life," he breathed. The elevator opened to your floor, and you helped Bucky out into the hall and down the corridor toward his room. The soft glow of the hallway lights illuminated his features, casting a warm, intimate aura around the two of you.

"So, if I'm not stupid and you trust my judgment, trust me when I tell you are not what that man says you are. You are a good man who had too many horrible things happen to him. And despite all those horrible things, you are still the kindest, funniest, most gentle man that I know."

As you reached his door, Bucky turned to face you, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability. "Thank you, Pocket. Thank you for taking care of me, and for being my friend," he murmured, his voice hoarse with exhaustion and emotion.

A small smile played on your lips. "Always, Buck," you replied softly. "Now let's get you inside."

With a gentle push, you opened the door to his room and guided him over to his bed. Bucky collapsed onto the mattress with a heavy sigh, his body sinking into the softness beneath him. Once you'd pulled off his boots, you knelt down beside him, tucking the blanket around his shoulders.

As you straightened up, Bucky reached out and grabbed your hand, his grip surprisingly strong despite his intoxicated state. His gaze locked with yours, a mix of vulnerability and longing flickering in his eyes.

"I don't want you to leave," he whispered, his voice laced with a hint of desperation.

"I'm just going to hop over to my room to change into pajamas," you assured him. "I'll be right back. Promise." You smoothed his hair, trying to tame it from where it stood up in all directions.

"'kay," he said through a yawn, "but don't take too long. I got somethin' I need to tell ya. 's important."

"Okay," you told him, planting a kiss on his head. "I'll be just a minute." You hurried across the hall to your own room, changing into your pajamas and brushing your teeth in record time.

Re-entering Bucky's room, you were extremely curious as to what he'd wanted to say to you. "Alright, Buckaroo, I'm back. What did you--"

You smiled to yourself. Bucky was fast asleep, light snores emanating from him as he lay sprawled across the bed. You couldn't help but find him adorable in his slumber, especially with his hair sticking up in all directions.

With a soft sigh, you walked over to the side of the bed and gently sat down, watching Bucky's peaceful face. It was moments like these that reminded you of how much he had been through, how much pain and loss he had experienced. Despite his tough exterior, there was a vulnerability about him that tugged at your heartstrings.

You leaned in closer, unable to resist the urge to brush a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. Your fingers lingered on his skin for a moment longer than necessary, feeling the warmth radiating from him. The desire to protect and comfort him overwhelmed you, making your heart ache with affection, and something else that you couldn't quite identify.

Pulling down the covers, you climbed into bed next to him, snuggling up to his body for warmth. He grunted and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him. It wasn't long before you drifted off into a slumber of your own.

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for planning to go to a convention without my partner even though we usually go together?

My partner (21 NB) and I usually always attend different conventions around our area together. We like to dress up in costumes, get pics with celebrity guests, and go to panels and meet-ups and all the fun convention activities together. The problem is.... this past year has been really hard for them mental health wise, and it has kind of sucked the fun out of going to conventions for both of us.

They have diagnosed ADHD and anxiety/depression, as well as what we think is autism, but they are undiagnosed. If I thought they were having a good time attending conventions, I would worry less, but the crowds of people and the noise overstimulates them and they've told me that they feel unsettled with that that many strangers around. They've had a range of minor to major panic attacks at each of the conventions that we've attended for the past year or so.

I usually try to be really supportive of their mental health. They have come a long, long way from the deep depression they were in back in high school, and they have worked hard to get their ADHD recognized and properly medicated, and I'm really proud of them. I have anxiety myself, so I feel like I understand at least a little bit of what they are typically dealing with, in a small way.

However, I also absolutely adore going to conventions. I convince myself every morning to get up and go to work by telling myself that "I'm working to fund my next cosplay," or whatever. A little self-motivation, you know. Costumes and conventions are my biggest hobby. Though I attend multiple conventions, every one is different in its own way, so it feels like it only comes once a year.

And this is where I might be a bit of an AH. I know my partner can't control their mental health, but I feel like I miss out on a lot of the convention whenever they have a panic attack or get overstimulated and I have to sit with them until they feel better. And yes, I know that sounds really bad, and I should care about my partner's well-being more than seeing a panel or a celebrity guest, but conventions are my "once a year getaway" from reality and typical life and all that. I don't really take any other vacations, and I don't really get to interact with any other nerds/geeks/weebs/lovely fandom people except at conventions because my anxiety is mostly social anxiety, and talking to people is hard and social media is intimidating.

So.... I did some thinking, and there are two, maybe three conventions that I'm planning to attend this next year without my partner. I'm not planning on telling them that I'm going without them, I was just planning on not mentioning it at all. I think if I tell them outright that I'm going without them, they'll take it personally and I don't want to upset them. If they ask for a reason that we're not going, I can just say it's financial, which isn't exactly a lie, because I did take a pay cut at work not too long ago. And my partner doesn't work due to their mental health, so I always fund or costumes and tickets and hotels. But I don't want to give that reason outright either, because I don't want to lie unless I have to.

There are two or three other conventions that we go to yearly that we'll still go to together, so I feel like they'll still get to attend and we'll get to go together, but I'll also have my "alone time" at the other conventions and get to do things I don't usually get to do, like late-night events.

If it's worth anything, my therapist supports my idea, because she thinks it'll force me out of my shell a little bit, and force me to stop using my partner as a "social crutch" if I go alone, making it like exposure therapy for my social anxiety.

So tumblr... AITA for wanting to go to a couple of conventions without my partner due to their mental health and my fear of missing out?

What are these acronyms?

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 3

Eminem x Reader (Y/N) fanfiction

Summary : Marshall and Y/N decide to celebrate a sobriety milestone but bad news get in the way.

Tag : -

A few weeks went by and you slowly started to adapt to what you could call your new normal. You were getting used to living with your friends and started working on your doctoral dissertation again, while going to meetings and making it to therapy. Every so often, you’d be invited to hang out in the studio with Talia and the boys and spend a couple of hours with them. However, most of your time was devoted to uni work so you didn’t hang out with them too much. In fact, today would be the first day you’d see them in a couple of weeks. If you were honest, you were particularly excited to see Marshall. The two of you had crossed path a number of times since you went on that drive and you always had a good time when you were with him. At that point, it was safe to say you had developed a harmless crush on him. Nothing major, but you did particularly enjoy looking at him and you were always happy to hug him hello and goodbye. You knew he would never be interested in you, so you simply decided to enjoy the sensation of feeling good in his presence.

The night after the two of you went on a drive, Talia had been grilling you with questions, but there was not much to say. The two of you had not talked about it but you were pretty sure she knew about your crush. She knew you too well anyway. Whatever, it was harmless, although she did make sure to always have you sit next to Marshall whenever she had the chance.

That day, you were happy for three reasons : first, it was Friday, which meant you would enjoy the weekend and some much needed rest from uni. Secondly, you were celebrating two months being sober. It hadn’t been without its trials, but you had made it so far and were extremely proud. Finally, you got to see Marshall. You were all smiles when you pushed the door to the studio and greeted everyone.

- Y/N, we have been waiting for you like you have no idea ! Jamal said.

- Oh really ? You asked in disbelief. Is that because you produce your best work whenever I’m around ? You asked with a smirk.

- Kind of, he answered jokingly. But it’s mostly because Marshall has been in a bad mood all day, which usually doesn’t happen when you’re around. So whatever it is, please work your magic and make our life bearable again, I beg of you, he added as he fell to his knees for good measure, in a very dramatic and theatrical way.

- Speaking of the devil, where is he ?

No one had time to answer your question, as Marshall came in the room, looking unnerved and slamming the door behind him. You looked at Talia, whose look confirmed that he was indeed in a bad mood. Everyone was silent.

- Now can we please give it a couple more tries and get that right ? Marshall asked exasperated.

- We’ve been working on that song for hours and nothing good came out, someone pointed out. How about we circle back to that later ?

- No, Marshall said coldly. We can get that thing to sound right and we will.

- Stubborn much ? Jamal asked jokingly before Marshall shot him a death glare.

You didn’t know if Marshall had seen you there or not but you weren’t sure as to whether or not greeting him was a good idea. You just sat next to Talia and stared at your phone as you were trying to finish reading a paper. You didn’t pay much attention to your surroundings before you heard Marshall slamming his head against the mixing desk.

- Fuck. He said. We’re already behind on schedule. This album is going to be my last, I swear. If it ever even gets done.

- You already said that for the last one, Paul pointed out jokingly.

- Yeah well you know what ? I’m soon to turn fifty-two. I’m too old for that shit anyways, Marshall replied.

- Come on, dude. We have our good luck charm here today, Jamal said pointing at you.

You smiled shyly at Marshall, who seemed to ease a little.

- Hey there, he said before getting up to properly greet you. Sorry I didn’t say hi before. That was rude.

- It’s ok, you said as you hugged him. So… last album before you become an accountant ? You know, you could ask my dad for pointers, you said jokingly.

Marshall laughed and kissed your cheek.

- Ok, maybe I was being a bit dramatic and maybe it won’t be the last one, he said with a laugh.

Jamal looked at the two of you in disbelief, yet smiling.

- So he’s been an ass all day, and now that Y/N has been here for ten minutes, he’s laughing ?

Everyone laughed and Marshall raised his middle finger.

- Now that you’re in a better mood, can we PLEASE take a cigarette break ? Someone asked.

- Fine, Marshall said rolling his eyes, as most people left the room and he went back to his seat, scribbling in this notebook.

After a moment of silence, you decided to talk.

- I have News, you said.

- Good or bad ? He asked without looking up.

- Well, you tell me, you said with a smile, proudly showing your newly-earned sobriety chip.

He greeted you with a smile and pulled you in for a hug.

- I’m proud of you, he said before kissing you on the forehead, making you blush. We should celebrate.

- Really ? How so ?

- Dinner ? He offered.

- That sounds good, you said. How about you come tomorrow night ? I’ll cook !

- I’m intrigued, he said. So you’re beautiful, smart AND you can cook ?

- I would also showcase my dancing abilities, but you’d be too jealous, you joked, trying to distract yourself from the fact that he called you beautiful.

The two of you shared a laugh but were interrupted by people coming back from their break. They resumed the work and, thankfully for everyone, Marshall ended up being pleased by one of the versions they recorded.

The next day, you decided to go shopping for your celebration dinner. You decided to cook some French recipe. « Whatever you want, unless it’s frogs or snails » Talia had told you. A while ago, you may or may not have tried to get your friends to taste snails, which ended up in a complete disaster. You were excited to cook and were in a good mood when you arrived to the store. You quickly grabbed the items you needed but the joy left your body when you reached the register and saw Simon - your Simon - kissing a beautiful woman as they were grabbing a few items. He seemed happy as ever. You could not help but stare at them and wonder for how long they’d been together. Something about their demeanour made it feel like they’d been a couple for ages. As you lowered your gaze, in hope they wouldn’t notice you, Simon called your name.

- Y/N ?

- Simon. Hi, you said.

- You look… well, he pointed out.

- I am, thank you, you replied. How are you ?

- Good. Kind of busy.

- I figured, you couldn’t help but say, quickly staring at the beautiful lady he was with.

- I meant with work.

- Oh. Right. Well I’d love to chat but I have to go. Have a good one.

You paid and quickly left the store. For some reason, you felt humiliated, even though Simon had every right to date whoever he liked. After all, you hadn’t been together for nearly three months. Plus, Simon was the very définition of perfection : handsome, polite, successful. Looking back, it was kind of obvious he wouldn’t have trouble finding someone else. And it wasn’t exactly like he made a promise to wait for you either.

Even though you tried your best not to cry on the way home, you sniffled as you walked through the door.

- Baby, are you alright ? Talia asked.

- I saw Simon, today. Kissing someone.

As soon as the words left your lips, tears started to stream down your cheeks.

- Oh, Y/N, I’m so sorry ! She said before giving you a much needed hug.

- I know it’s silly but some part of me thought that… I’d get better and we’d get back together and… and…

- I know. I thought you guys were endgame too, she said sheepishly.

She held you for a while as you sobbed.

- Let’s focus on the positive, honey ! Let’s celebrate those two months of you getting better. I’ll help you cook, she offered.

- Do you mind if we reschedule ? You asked. I don’t feel like celebrating. Or cooking. Or eating, for that matter.

- Are you sure, baby ? Marshall should be here soon. I promise we’ll have a good night, just the four of us, she tried.

- Yeah… can you call him and tell him I’m sorry ? I think I should go to my room and rest for a bit.

You apologised once again and left the items on the kitchen counter before going to your room. You changed into some sweatpants and a tank top and laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling. It dawned on you that Simon and you were truly over. Even though you tried thinking of something else, you couldn’t help but seeing him with that girl. She was truly beautiful. Probably more deserving of him, too. The tears wouldn’t stop flowing from your eyes. It felt like a fountain. Deep down, you knew it was your fault. You were the one who screwed up. He was the perfect match for you, you screwed up and now, you’d probably end up alone.

You heard a knock on the door.

- I’m fine, Talia, you said while wiping away your tears.

- It’s not Talia, you heard Marshall’s voice say. Can I come in ?

Marshall ? What was he doing here ? You quickly got up and opened the door.

- Hey, you said. I’m sorry, I told Talia to cancel for tonight. I’m feeling a bit under the weather…

- She told me about your ex, he said. But she thought we should do something to get your mind off things. Come here.

He pulled you in for a hug. He grabbed your face in his hands and wiped your tears with his thumbs.

- I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone’s face so swollen after crying, he said with a smile.

- I know, I’m an ugly cryer, you replied.

- Everyone’s ugly when they cry, he pointed out.

- No, that’s not true. Some people manage to stay hot even when they cry.

- Well I’ve never seen that, he said as he shook his head.

- I’m sure Ms. Perfection over there is still beautiful when she cries, you mumbled.

- Who ? Marshall asked, looking confused.

- The girl Simon was kissing. You should have seen her, Marshall. So beautiful. Tall. And blonde. And skinny. And perfect for him in every way. The opposite of me.

You rolled your eyes at the thought of her.

- As beautiful as she may be, I’m sure she can’t compete with you, Marshall said.

- You haven’t seen her, you pointed out.

- I don’t need to, he shrugged.

He was just being nice and you knew it full well. Still, the compliments made you feel a bit better.

- Why don’t you join Talia and Jamal ? Let me just put on something other than sweats and I’ll start cooking.

- I thought you wanted to cancel dinner ? He asked, looking confused.

- Yeah, but Talia still made you come all this way, so I might as well feed you.

- That’s awfully nice of you, he said with a grin.

- Nice of you to come, you said with a shy smile.

- Anything for you, Y/N, he replied with a serious tone. You can call me and I’ll be there.

- Good thing I don’t have your number, you said with a smile. You’d never live in peace otherwise.

- Let’s correct that, shall we ?

He grabbed your phone and entered his number in it.

- Now you can call me, he said. Anytime.

- Thanks, Marshall.

You gave him a shy smile and immediately rang him so he’d have your number too.

- I can help you cooking if you want, he offered. But I should warn you : I’m not too good at it.

- You’re a grown man and you can’t cook ? You asked in disbelief.

- Well I guess I can prepare food. I even worked as a short-order cook, a long time ago. I wouldn’t call that cooking though. Neither would my kids, he said with a grin.

- I’ll teach you a thing or two, then. Let me just get dressed.

- Why ? He asked. We’re staying in. You don’t have to make an effort for me.

You shrugged and headed to the kitchen with him. Truth was, you didn’t want Marshall to think of you as sloppy. Even though he did not really seem to care.

When you entered the kitchen, you found Jamal and Talia hugging and kissing like teenagers.

- You guys are too cute. I can’t handle that right now, you said.

- Yeah, please don’t rub your happiness in our single faces, Marshall pleaded.

- Sorry guys, I’m too in love with this gorgeous lady, Jamal said.

Both you and Marshall pretended to puke. The four of you laughed and started cooking together while listening to music. You tried teaching them how to prepare some traditional French chicken dish. It was a simple one but you hadn’t exactly been given the most attentive students. Marshall was desperately trying to cut the vegetables correctly (nearly destroying them in the process), while Talia and Jamal kept on making out like teenagers. You ended up preparing the dish by yourself. It wasn’t perfect but the group deemed it to be good enough.

- Don’t worry Y/N. If you keep cooking like that, we’ll find you a husband soon enough, Jamal complimented.

- JAMAL ! Talia shouted.

- Sorry. Wrong timing, he apologised. You know what I mean.

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Jamal was really sweet and you knew he meant well.

- it’s good to hear you laugh, Talia said as she grabbed your hand.

- Thanks for being here, guys, you replied. My day sucked but you make it better.

- Anytime, Marshall said.

The four of you kept the conversation going but were soon disturbed by the door buzzing. Talia went to answer.

- Hey Talia. Is Y/N here ? I’d like to speak to her, you heard an all too familiar voice say.

- Simon ? You asked as your heart started racing. What are you doing here ?

[nathandrakeisabottom]

Headcannons about them with an anxious SO? Love your stuff x

Thank you, friend! Now, in full canonical honesty, I don’t believe that either Nathan or Sam would be particularly good at dealing with their deeper anxiety, let alone someone else’s, let alone someone else’s who they loved dearly and would only be afraid to make it worse (that many crumbling bridges and a guy’s gotta if consider his only superpower is the ability to destroy everything he touches) for most of their young lives. 

However, I do believe that post-UC4 (perhaps a little earlier for Nathan), and a good dose of necessary therapy (paid for in pirate coins, of course)--- they’d be more than willing to finally take on the challenge. 

For themselves, and for the person they love more than anything.

Drakes with an Anxious S/O Headcanons

Nathan:

In his younger days, the prince of the awkward smile and half-hearted clap on the back. A pulley doll whose only catchphrases were “Man, that’s hard”, “Yeah. Yeesh.”, and “Soooo, I guess this would be a bad time for a joke, huh?”. Scurries to the bathroom as soon as they’re not in tears anymore, and stays there for as long as it takes to stop hearing the residual sobs.

However, his late 30s and 40s bring him a much healthier perspective (and therapy— Jesus, finally) and being the smarty pants he is, he passes on no opportunity to put his new skills and knowledge to use.

That playfulness and desire to find the lightness in even the hardest situations never leaves him at any age, though.

A panic attack? “‘Is something… wrong with you’? You realize you’re talking to the guy who accidentally destroys ancient temples for a living, as an archaeologist? And I still consider myself a not so bad guy. So in my eyes, you’re basically a lesser known Mesopotamian god.”

Got a bad grade? “A D in Psychometrics? I don’t know, sounds like they don’t know anything about math if they’re using a letter to grade you. Maybe they should go get their teaching certificates checked. Hey, how ‘bout I just draw you a PhD myself? You know I have an eye for art.” 

Dealing with shitty parents? Landlord? Roommates? Exes who won’t leave you the fuck alone? “What? That buffoon? Guy who can’t even spell their own name right? That asshole isn’t worth a thought of a thought of a thought in your head. Pretty sure they haven’t had a thought in their own head since 1996.”

As soon as the first wide-toothed smile is won, he’s leaning into his partner with a secretive smirk: “Ya wanna get the hell out of here?” 

Because distractions always helped him before. 

Will act especially gentlemanly, and theatrically play it up, while taking their partner for a frozen yogurt, antique shop, Target trip, public park, laser tag (yes, really) decompress. Bows when he opens the car door for them. Pays for everything. Calls them ‘your majesty’ for the entirety of the excursion.

All he wants is to get them to smile. And he’s not stopping until he sees it. 

When the night creeps in and his S/O starts to lose steam, Nathan’s own worry grows more obvious, though he tries his best to keep it to himself. 

Watches them with wide eyes. Gives them space, but still asks every few minutes if they need a cup of water. No? Tea? Arnold Palmer? Popsicle? Massage? Hot Pocket? Sexy pillow fight? However many it takes to make his partner laugh again. But he fully means every offer he gives.

Says nothing as he helps them undress and into their PJs. Touches are tender and intimate, gently rubs their shoulders and neck. Never too hard, never too direct. Plays the friendly ghost and lets their partner take the lead, but never, ever just sits around to watch.

Makes them a beverage of some sort, even if they say no. Hot lemonade with honey is his personal homecure. Says yellow is a happy color, so it must be good for you.

And right before they turn the lights out, Nate timidly offers— with a shy, trying chuckle— if they want him to read them a bedtime story. 

Somehow shocked every time they say yes. Mumbles something self-derogatory about himself (“Ya know, not the best actor, but—” “Personally I think I have the voice of a dying goose, but—”) before sitting on the nearest surface and cracking open a book.

If he’s still feeling a little awkward, will uneasily ask if they wanna hear what he’s been reading lately, and will do so if asked— but really wants to read the pirate storybooks his mother read to him and Sam when they were kids.

It always made him feel better when the world felt too big, too scary, too cruel. 

So he wants to share it with the person he loves. 

He wants to share everything with the person he loves.

And without even asking, goes to the medicine cabinet and brings them a tablet of whatever they need when the anxiety gets especially bad, and says “I know, it’s scary. But we’ve been through scary before, right?” with a kiss on the cheek as they swallow it down with a sip of lemonade.

Lingers, eyes down, and vaguely nods to nobody as he stands and walks to the door.

“Want me… uh, want me to keep reading to you?” But he offers before he can even get past the door frame. 

“Do you want me to want you to keep reading to me?” 

And the last thing he wants to see is his love, alone. The idea of them crying beneath the covers because they were too afraid to burden him with it, too afraid to be seen. Everything he felt he had to do when he was 6 and his mother “passed”, age 9, 10, 11, 12 after a black eye, the words that his brain told him wrong: spoken aloud by the playground bullies he feared he’d never be stronger than. 

But he knew they were wrong. The bullies were wrong. The ones in his brain. The ones in theirs.

“Yes.” He replies without missing a beat. 

And he makes sure to hold their hand in his free one until the second they fall asleep… and a few hours after, just to be safe.

The next morning they fucking better expect breakfast in bed— and he maybe, just maybe, might even be willing to spring for McDonald’s, if that’s what they want. As long as they promise to eat actual fruit after. And hell, maybe even a vegetable or two when he makes dinner that night. Did you know that eating right and exercise are actually primary solutions to poor mental health—? That’s what Dr. Dorian said— No, potatoes don’t count as a vegetable— no, especially not if it’s fried— NO, FRENCH FRIES DON’T COUNT, BABY—

Sam:

Sam takes a bit longer to warm up to discussing anxiety than Nathan does, mostly due to struggling so deeply with it on his own. It’s not like prisoners (or Shoreline guards) made the most comforting companions. 

The better he could keep secrets, the less he could reveal, the safer he’d be.

So it makes sense that it’s both his greatest strength and weakness when it comes to emotionally turbulent times. 

In his younger, more avoidant years, he’d be the first to leave the room, leave the building, hell, sometimes even leave the city after a particularly heavy cry or confrontation with his then-partner. Only to come back the next morning and act like nothing ever happened. 

But now, he doesn’t run. After prison, after Rafe, after Madagascar, all he wants is to be allowed to stay. To be wanted to stay by someone who loves him. 

Is happiest to just sit with you in the silence. His biggest skill is his ability to weather the storm. And whether you need to scream bloody murder, or need to sit and decompress and just fucking feel, but can’t do it alone, Sam’s there. Listening. 

Once you’re done talking, he takes one last, long drag of his cigarette, stubs it out onto the pavement, and asks simply: “So do you want solutions… or something else, sweet’art?” 

You can see in his eyes— darting less than solid, certain against your own— that he really means it, in every way that he was too afraid to when he was younger.

The wonderful and terrifying thing about having anxiety while Sam is there is that it’s a vulnerable experience for the both of you. He’s learning, discovering, trying right along with you. And he may not be able to lift you up so easily, but he’ll be able to sink into the dark places with you, and not be afraid to see what’s down there. 

And maybe seeing someone he loves so deeply, sees as so beautiful, so smart, so kind, so wonderful, so absolutely perfect to him feel the same ways he does about himself… maybe it makes him think that he’s not as terrible as his brain tells him, either. 

Helps you take action by letting himself (finally) not be the smart one: “When ya… get like this, what do you usually do first, sweet’art? Paint me a pit’chure.” Gives you complete control, and smiles softly when you wipe your tears and the logical, the archaeological mind awakens. Mimics unraveling an ancient map when you begin to explain, and you inadvertently hiccup out a laugh. 

At times, it’ll feel like he’s trying to run again, but when he stands up and walks across the room— he always returns. This time with your favorite of his jackets, the denim one that smells like him even though he just cleaned it, and drapes it protectively over your shoulders. Clasps his palm at the back of your neck and rubs out the knot he always finds there. Smiles toothy and wide when your words are broken up by sighs of relief. Only to be filled once again with silence, gazes meeting sweet and safe. 

“Remember Indonesia?” He offers with a smirk, despite your furrowed brow.

“I guess? What about—?” 

“I read the runes’ instructions and ran us in circles all around Bali, only to reread the transcript and realized I got three letters completely wrong. J—V—A. Java. It was goddamn Java the entire time.” 

“Your point being?” 

He smiles and shrugs. Trying. Maybe he’s wrong, a foreigner in some ancient, uncertain land, but he tries.

“Sometimes our brains are just wrong.” He tries for you. “That’s all.”

You sniffle, and he leans in to press a prickly kiss to your cheek. His jacket is still warm from the dryer, wafting with the residual sting of cigarette, Old Spice Captain, cheap mouthwash, even cheaper aftershave, and something else completely unnameable. 

And maybe some others would think the scent appalling, but it’s the strangeness, the specificity, and yes, the stank— everything that makes Sam him— that makes you love it. Love him. The depth. The difference. 

The pain, and what he chose to do with it. 

Another kiss, this time down your neck. This time, the sigh of relief is his own.

What he chose to change it into. 

“So… any chance sex therapy might be a thing?” He asks grinningly.

“Why don’t we find out, ‘sweet’art’?”

[starlightrosa]

Husk's Manicure

With thanks and full credit to @kitselfindulgencefluff for this wonderful idea in a discord server we're both in! I just had to write this, tis too cute!

Pairing: Husk/Angel Dust - or Huskerdust as we know them <3

Summary: Husk allows Angel to do his nails. Husk, however, was not counting on it to tickle so much. But fret not, for our cat pays it back in kind.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Tickling, lotsa teasing, swearing, romantic Huskerdust, much fluff ahead, tons of cute fluffy pet names they both use, non-English words (in italics, translation list at the bottom haha)

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Huskie?”

“Yeah, my dove?” Husk asked, looking from the book he was happily reading, as he looked to his beautiful boyfriend Angel Dust, curled happily on top of him as the two enjoyed each other’s company. From losers to lovers. Husk loved Angel dearly, and he could tell Angel felt the same.

“Can I do your nails? Give my favourite kitty a manicure? Pleeeeease? Pretty pleeeease?” Angel begged.

“I ain’t your damn mannequin.” Husk grumbled in an effort to regain some of his usual grumpy demeanour from this soft scene between the two, though the effect was lost both from the soft voice and the little smile to Angel. He jokingly put his book back up to his face, enjoying the whimper from Angel as his book was lowered back down by one of the spider sinner’s many hands, and he was faced with the biggest puppy eyes (spider eyes?) he’d ever seen.

“Pleaseeee, Huskie! Ya know I love ya, so much.” Angel tried again. Husk chuckled and softly kissed the top of Angel’s head. Damn it, this spider was turning him soft. But how could he ever say no to someone like Angel? The short answer to that question was the fact that it was impossible to ever refuse Angel Dust, because Angel deserved the world. To Husk, Angel was his world.

“For you, mi corazon. For you, I’ll sit through it, because you are my beautiful spider. Just don’t put any pink glittery shit on me. I don’t look good in glitter.” Husk joked.

Angel had a wide grin as he cuddled deeper into Husk’s warm fur. “You’re still beautiful enough for me, Huskie~!”

Husk chuckled, his wings curling around Angel’s body in a protective manner, their hearts beating softly in time with one another. “Oh shut up, you sap.”

“Make me, cutie.” Angel shot back with a wink, his tone sickeningly adoring. “Can I do your nails yet?” the alluring spider asked.

Husk sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine. But no pink glittery shit, you hear me?”

Angel grinned and gently pushed himself off of Husk.

“Got it, babe. I’ll be right back!” he said, running upstairs to his hotel room to go fetch what he needed. His therapy pig, Fat Nuggets was dozing gently in his little pet bed as Angel grabbed his tools of choice. Nail files, hand moisturiser, nail clippers, a buffer, a clear base and top coating for the actual nail painting bit and some cleansing wipes in case Angel made a mistake and needed to quickly correct it.

Angel hurried down the grandeur stairs to the lobby and hurried back into the room, his heeled boots clicking softly. Husk was there waiting, his claws on display. A bit overgrown and a bit dulled, no doubt from lack of care. But Angel would have them looking gorgeous in no time.

Angel knelt down on the floor and took Husk’s left hand, immediately starting to remove the cuticles and buffing each claw carefully. His slender fingers grazed over Husk’s paw pads. Normally, Angel wouldn’t have even noticed, but the choked down giggle and barely repressed squirming from Husk made Angel’s focus break.

“Pfft- Huskie, what was that noise?”

“Shut it, Legs. You know what you’re doin’…” Husk responded grumpily, trying to gently tug his hand out of Angel’s grip. But the spider sinner turned his palms up, letting Angel see the paw pads and the toe beans on both of Husk’s hands.

“Oh my fucking God…” Angel murmured, looking to Husk like he was a precious treasure. “You have fuckin’ BEANS!”

“T-They’re my paw pads, not beans!” Husk tried to explain, but Angel squealed loudly in sheer cuteness overload. His boyfriend just kept on surprising him every damn day, and Angel grinned. A whole new part of his Husk to love, right along with the rest of him.

Now that Angel knew Husk had ticklish little paw pads, he tried his best to continue on with the nail treatment, enjoying Husk’s laughter. Angel didn’t think he’d ever seen Husk so… content, and the domestic scene was sweeter than sugar.

“So this is why ya never let me hold ya hand out in public~! Your little paw pads are so ticklish, ya can’t even handle me holdin’ your hand. That’s adorable, Huskie!” Angel teased, his fuzzy fingers sweeping gently over Husk’s palms.

“Hah, fuck! Angel, thahahat fuckin’ tihihickles! Ya prihihick, cut that ohohout!” Husk demanded, the annoyed effect he wanted completely diminished by the honey-sweet giggles that left the grumpy cat’s lips.

“Ohh, this tickles? Damn, I wonder what’d happen if I just, y’know, did this.”

Before Husk could protest, Angel pressed his lips to the paw pad and blew a gentle raspberry. And I shall throw my hat down and say with the utmost sincerity to you, dear reader, that Husk fucking snorted.

“HAHAHA, JEHEHESUS! FUHUHUCKIN’ STAHAHAP! AHAHAHANGEL, I CAN’T-!” Husk wailed, his tail whacking against the armrest of the sofa where he sat, another loud snort leaving him as Angel simply did the same thing to the other hand this time. And when Angel pulled away, the spider sinner snickered before he fell into laughter himself.

“Hahaha, dihihid you fuckin’ SNORT? You sure you’re a cat, Huskie? Maybe you’re a piggy on Old McDonald’s farm. With a snort-snort here, and a snort-snort there and all.” Angel teased, an almost evil smile on his face.

“E-I-E-I-Oh, go fuck yourself.” Husk joked right back, laughing along with his boyfriend, both from his own response to Angel’s quip as well as the tickling happening on his paw pads. He did not remember his hands ever being this ticklish while he was alive.

Eventually after what felt like literal centuries but was probably only a couple hours, Angel managed to buff Husk’s nails into a better state, and filed the overgrowth away, leaving his nails much more catlike and slender.

Angel pulled away at last, and Husk flexed his new nails. Damn, they were near unrecognisable. They looked… good.

“Do ya like ‘em?” Angel asked. Husk found himself smiling.

“You did great, my dove.” Husk murmured, before he got quite a fun idea. He slowly let his mouth tick upwards into a cheeky grin, looking at Angel.

“U-Uh? Huskie? Why are ya lookin’ at me like that? Unless ya, heh, see somethin’ ya like~?” Angel asked, trying to tease Husk a little more.

“Oh, there’s a lot I like seein’ when it comes to you, little dove. But I think my claws would just looooove to meet those cute little sides of yours.” Husk crooned, his aforementioned claws wriggling slightly.

Angel gulped. Uh oh. He got up and started to back away from Husk, but the cat was quicker and simply tugged Angel back sharply. Angel stumbled over his fashionable boots and Husk caught him, one hand gently guiding the alluring arachnid to the floor, as Husk straddled his waist and smirked.

“H-Huskie, plehehease! Dohohon’t!” Angel begged, already seeing those nails. Oh Christ, that was gonna be crazy ticklish if Husk got his hands on him.

“Aw, why not? My claws just wanna meet the person who took care of them so well~ don’t be shy, little dove. Come say hi to them. There’s only ten of them to say hi to!” Husk responded.

“Ooh, look at this. My claws are sooo close to saying hi! They’re just dyin’ to meet ya, Angel. Just sooooo close to those little sides, and hips. Can’t wait to tickle ‘em all I want, and have ya giggling like the lil cutie you are~!”

Angel whined through his laughter bubbling past his lips. “F-Fuck… Huskie, plehehease! Gehehet it ohohover wihihihith!” Angel begged.

“Your wish is my command, you adorable little arachnid.” Husk crooned, before his claws met Angel’s sides, the tickling finally starting, which was both a blessing and a curse for the poor ticklish spider. Being left in anticipation for so long, Angel had no damn chance to ever resist. He fell apart instantly.

“NOHOHOHOHOHAHAHAHA!” Angel cackled, squirming for all he was worth. Husk snickered at the over-the-top reaction.

“Goddamn, you get more ticklish here or somethin’?” Husk asked, his claws not letting up even once.

“STAHAHAHAP!”

“Stop? Oh hell no, I’ve just gotten started. Tickle, tickle, bellissimo ragno!” Husk cooed, still tickling his sides happily.

Angel’s blush brightened at the Italian words rolling off his lover’s tongue, and Angel responded in kind.

“F-FaHAHAHAHA! F-Fa il solletico, Husk! Per favore! Abbi pietà!” Angel begged, laughter overtaking him as his legs kicked out behind Husk. Husk’s ears twitched as he heard Angel out and snickered.

“Mercy? You want mercy, eh? Is my sweet spider too ticklish? Is he?” Husk enquired, those damn ticklish claws not once letting up. Angel would have lasted much longer… if it were not for the fact that Husk’s claws were scratching gently at his hips, and it basically drove the poor spider over the edge.

“Yes! Yes! I’m too ticklish! Please, Huskie! Enough! I give up!” Angel babbled, his laughter going silent as he went limp.

Husk slowed his claws, settling for just tapping them gently on the spider’s hips, allowing Angel to take a breather. Angel gasped and slumped against Husk, the back of his hand pressing against his mouth to muffle the leftover giggles he still had.

Husk ran his claws through Angel’s hair. Angel sighed and laid in Husk’s lap, enjoying the feeling of Husk fussing with his luscious white and pink locks.

“Feels so nice, Huskie.” Angel murmured, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Yeah, I know. Go to sleep, little dove. I’m not goin’ anywhere.” Husk murmured, still raking his soft hands through his beloved’s hair.

“G’night, Huskie…” Angel whispered, feeling his eyes close.

“Goodnight, Angel. Ti amo, bellissimo ragno.” Husk murmured. Angel couldn’t help but smile, mumbling the last word as he fell asleep in Husk’s arms.

“Anch'io ti amo, Huskie...”

Husk smiled. Maybe this was what happiness looked like.

The End!

(TRANSLATION LIST HERE)

Mi corazon - my heart (Spanish)

bellissimo ragno - beautiful spider. (Italian)

Fa il solletico, Husk! Per favore! Abbi pietà - It tickles, Husk! Please! Have mercy! (Italian)

Anch'io ti amo - I love you too. (Italian)

[65thgames]

Okay now that we've sorted THAT here are some of my actual harvey headcanons (some loosely based on my fanfic that's in the works)

-I think when he was younger, I'd say 18-early twenties, he had a bit of a rebellious phase. Not necessarily as wild as most people's, but for him it was massive. He had internalised a lot of his insecurities and issues from his failed dreams and just general stress. So he became a bit untamed to try and fit in with the others, as he wasn't sure where he belonged. Certainly not in aviation (he's known this for a while), and he feels like an imposter within the medical field . So where else does he fit in?

-As expected this did not work. Someone tell him pushing away and bottling his issues isn't good for him bc he sure as hell won't tell himself. He was never able to feel like he fully fit in with the rest, like everyone else was speaking a sort of language that he was never given the dictionary for (yes I hc him as autistic).

-His relationship with his family now that he's older is more business-like than it is familial. He'll visit for major holidays, maybe stop by when he's near, but even in childhood he was always closer to his extended family. I don't think his parents were cruel, but I think that they were very strict, no nonsense people. They didn't support his inital dreams. Not because they didn't care for him, but rather because they thought they were unrealistic. Why be a pilot (when he's got bad vision anyways) when he can be a lawyer just like his father? Why be a pilot when he can become a doctor, like his brother? As a result I think he unconsciously associates his pain from his failed dreams with his parents.

-A lot of the food he "dislikes" in game don't actually come from not liking the taste. Instead he's conditioned himself into not liking overtly "unhealthy" foods to try and maintain his image of a good doctor. He already feels like an imposter in his profession, so he uses tactics such as these to try and lessen the feeling. Who needs therapy am I right?

-But despite this, he is a huge hypocrite. He is aware of this. He preaches health but then eats microwave meals in his secluded apartment where he doesn't need to keep up his mask. If any of you are familiar with Goffman's dramaturgical analogy, it's exactly like that in my eyes. His "backstage" is his home. But the main stage is Pelican Town. And he uses props moreso in the form of abstract things to build his mask of a good doctor, believing he cannot be effective if he's "just Harvey."

-Random but he's an olive AND marmite person. Not together, obviously. But trust that man has a jar of marmite in his cupboard, and one of these for his olives. His sister gifted to him over a decade ago. He's surprised it hasn't broken yet.

-His first big buy for himself was a turntable. It was his pride and joy and he'd polish it often. He still has it. Obviously we know he likes Jazz, but I feel like his dirty secret is that he listens to country on the down low. Shh don't tell anyone.

-He's gotten into only a few physical fights in his life. Most were when he was in school. But one was an alleyway fight he got into whilst defending his sister from a creep. Trust me, poor Harvey got his fair share of a beating. But that's the day he learned he can throw a punch if he wants to. However since them he's gotten a bit more out of shape. He could still punch someone, but he's a gentle giant so give him a second to stretch and practice his breathing techniques he gets anxious okay. (unless its for someone else. If someone he loves is in danger he'll go in, ham stretches be damned. He'll pay for it in the morning though.)

-On the note of gentle giant, I think Harvey was a surprisingly short kid. He shot up around age 13, though, and didn't stop for a while. He was asked to be on the basketball team, and he did try out whilst he was still trying to find himself. That dream ended quickly when he got a basketball to his face and it broke his glasses in half.

-On the topic of sports, I think he's a pretty fast runner but he does have limitations. When he was a kid/preteen, he had asthma. He's grown out of it mostly, but he still gets attacks from time to time. Now that he's older, it's because his body has started catching up to him. Sure he'll run a few laps for a charity run, but give him an icepack for his bad knees okay.

-He started greying fairly young. He's very insecure of it, because as he was growing up one of his most prominent features was his hair.

-Since we're talking about appearance, I know that man has good cheekbones.

-His eyes are hazel but he just calls them brown.

-The most he's ever let someone in was Elliott, but even then he keeps him at a firm arm's length. He's not good at letting down his guard at all until the farmer.

-He's had a few relationships and a few hookups, but they've never really stuck. He doesn't like hookup culture so he no longer participates in it. I think Harvey doesn't fall for people often because he's so guarded, but when he does it's hard and fast and usually soul destroying.

-Cries at the lion king

-He's neither a cat or a dog person. He has no preference, he loves both for different reasons. Cats are laid back, independent and (usually) quieter. Dogs are floppy and silly. If the farmer has a pet/multiple, he usually has to be attacked with a lint roller before leaving for work every day. I'm talking airport security pat down core.

-This man is TERRIBLE with technology. He definitely does the millennial pause god forbid he ever has to send a video to someone. He's not very well versed with the new meanings people have assigned to emojis and slang. So never text him "HELPPP 😭" unless you want your house barged into at 3am by Harvey with a medical bag.

That's all I've got for now

[janetbrown711]

To My Alcoholic Friends

Despite the fact it never, ever ends well, Pigsy, Tang and Sandy spend another Friday night out on the town, drinking and dancing and losing all of their inhibitions before they know it. This can only end well

LMK Bad Things Happen Bingo Prompt: Didn't Want to be Saved

tw for moderate gore, violence, homophobic slurs, hate crimes, anger issues, post traumatic stress, and some very tame horniness before everything goes to hell in a handbasket

Ao3 Link

Pigsy, Tang, and Sandy went out every Friday night, despite it almost ending in disaster every time. Tang would get shitfaced, Pigsy would run his mouth, and Sandy would get into a fight or two just about every other week. Frankly, it was a miracle they were even allowed in bars anymore, but the bar owners always said they'd seen worse, somehow. Pigsy had his doubts about the whole thing, but was glad to be able to go out and away from the pressures of society. After all, heaven knows Tang needs these nights out more than anyone, and someone had to watch Sandy's back to make sure he didn't get himself killed, so Pigsy was always glad to go along and pay the tab.

It was a delicate balance, the three of them, but Pigsy liked it that way. Everything felt right in the world when he was protecting those he cared about.

“UGH, God, if I have to deal with that professor nagging about how I shouldn’t use oxford commas one more time, I'm going to fall into an early grave,” Tang flung the door open to the bar, finding an empty stool and sitting with a huff.

Pigsy laughed. “See, this is why I say college is a waste of time. All that scholar talk's nothing but hogwash to make them all feel superior to guys like us,” he smirked, sitting next to him.

Tang rolled his eyes. “You know my father and mother are both professors, right?”

“Yeah, and they also suck ass, ergo…” Pigsy gestured vaguely, making his partner push him playfully before ordering shots for the group.

Sandy snorted. “That's one way to put it.”

“Parents, who needs ‘em?” Pigsy elbowed Tang as the shots were placed in front of them.

“Ugh, you can say that again,” Tang instantly downed his shot before his face twisted with regret. “Man, I hate tequila. Why do I keep doing this to myself?”

“Because we’re broke as shit,” Pigsy teased.

“And because it’s cheaper than therapy,” Sandy added before slamming his.

“And God knows we can't get your piece of shit ‘father’ outta the paper if we tried,” Pigsy added, finally taking his shot too.

“You're telling me,” Tang grumbled. “And what's worse is I'm in that stupid photo– all day people have been walking up to me and talking about his achievements in space technology and blah blah blah– I'm sick of it! I'm sick of him! He's an asshole! Not someone who's going to unlock the cosmos!”

“Yeah, your pop's a real piece of work,” Pigsy cringed.

“More like a piece of shit. Tossing you out, and for what?” Sandy growled. “He's weak and pathetic, and if I ever see him in public, rest assured I'd teach him a lesson ‘bout respect,” Sandy swore, eyes dark and dangerous.

Tang scratched his neck. “I-I don't know if that's necessary, Sandy, but thanks,” He gave a pitiful smile, while the river demon just grunted.

“Right, well… another round, gentlemen?” Pigsy suggested.

“You know it,” Tang immediately agreed, going back to massaging his forehead. “I can't take another second of thinking about my stupid thesis or my parents, or this song, ugh,” he bemoaned, looking around the bar for a jukebox or whatever the music was coming from.

“Sandy?” Pigsy looked his way.

“Wouldn't be a Friday night without at least three shots of that horse shit,” the river demon agreed, slightly less dark in the eyes, and so another round was ordered.

However, by the time they were ready, Tang had already wandered off to fix his annoyance. It was hardly surprising, but made Pigsy shake his head nonetheless.

“You– uh– good on your own?” Pigsy asked.

Sandy chuckled. “Go find him. I'll be fine waiting until the smooch fest is over.”

“Har-har,” Pigsy rolled his eyes, taking his and Tang’s shots from the bar before beginning his search through the crowded bar.

It took a bit of weaving and bobbing, but eventually Pigsy found Tang standing by the jukebox with his coin purse out.

“Don’t tell me you hate this song that much you’d waste 50 mao– you could buy shitty ramen with that money,” Pigsy gave an exasperated sigh.

“I’m not allowed to buy shitty ramen anymore, remember?” Tang gave a little smirk, before going right back to the machine.

Pigsy rolled his eyes. “You and your spending habits fascinate me.”

“Trust me, this song’s gonna be worth it,” Tang insisted before inserting the five mao and selecting the right number.

The scholar watched with a dumb smile as the little robot arm took out the old CD and swapped it with the new one, eyes lit up like new years. Pigsy couldn’t imagine having that much excitement about some dumb machine, but it was one of the things he liked about Tang; He had a spark Pigsy lost years ago.

“Oo! Okay– okay– it’s starting!” Tang clapped his hands and finally turned to Pigsy, and jumped as he realized he had been holding their shots the entire time. “Sorry about that– I was just so excited– here,” he apologized, taking the drink from Pigsy.

“No worries,” Pigsy couldn’t help but laugh. “Ganbei?”

“Ganbei!” Tang cheered, clinking his shot glass against Pigsy's before they both drank just as the music started playing.

Immediately Pigsy's ears perked up as the familiar synth started to climb, and he started practically doubling over with laughter once the drums started.

“See? I told you you'd love it,” Tang grinned all stupid and dorky, making Pigsy wish he didn't know any better so he could grab his waist and kiss him already.

“This song is so stupid,” Pigsy said instead.

“What? You don't agree? Don't wanna ‘Lay All Your Love on Me’?” Tang batted his eyelashes.

“Tang,” Pigsy's face got all red and hot with pleasure, embarrassment, and a smidge of the alcohol kicking in.

“‘Don’t go wasting your emotion~ lay all your love on me,” Tang sang along, swaying his hips and throwing his hands in the air like a total idiot.

“You are way too much of a lightweight, you know that?” Pigsy raised a very amused eyebrow.

“And you’re too much of a hardass! C’mon, let’s dance,” His partner didn’t care one bit, moving to the beat with drunken, and irresistibly enticing carelessness.

“C’mon Tang, you know we can’t–”

“‘It was like shooting a sitting duck,’” Tang continued to sing, hands moving down his hips in an enticing way. “A little small talk, a smile, and I was stuck~”

Pigsy just rolled his eyes and stepped back, watching his partner with a stupid grin and hot face as he continued trying to serenade him.

“‘I still don’t know what you’ve done with me. A grown-up woman should never fall so easily,” Tang fake swooned, making Pigsy fold with laughter, the desire to join him growing stronger with each stupid flail and look.

“I feel a kind of fear, when I don’t have you near,” Tang batted his eyelashes. “Unsatisfied, I skip my pride, I beg you dear~” Tang extended his hand, and this time, with all inhibitions washed away with alcohol, Pigsy took it.

“‘Don’t go wasting your emotion, lay all your love on me~’” Pigsy sang along, and Tang looked so happy Pigsy could kiss him (but instead settled for placing his hands on his hips).

“Don’t go sharing your devotion, lay all your love on me~” Tang sang too, his fingers crawling up Pigsy’s arms in a way that made him shiver with delight.

They danced the whole music break together, the music and lights and Tang's general Tang-ness making it harder and harder for the pig demon to keep his hands off of him. It didn't help that the alcohol was certainly kicking in by now, making him feel all giddy and unable to look away from Tang's shaggy hair or how his changpao swayed and clung to parts of his body.

Damn it– Pigsy couldn’t take it anymore, Tang was just too irresistible when he was like this– and with the look Tang was giving him he had to know he was driving Pigsy insane– he needed him– he needed Tang now–

And so, not caring that the last verse wasn't over, Pigsy grabbed Tang’s hand and dragged him out to the back alleyway where he immediately started making out with him, which the scholar didn’t protest in the slightest.

“You’re– like– really fucking hot when you sing, you know that?” Tang said between kisses with a smug little grin.

“And you’re hot when you dance,” Pigsy replied shortly, wanting him to shut up so he could kiss him more.

Tang giggled. “Maybe I should dance for you back at the apartment~”

“Maybe you should.”

“Maybe I will~”

“God, shut the fuck up.”

“Oh sir, yes sir~”

“Tang–”

“Pigsy~ Oh-!”

That worked.

“Hey!” A voice called from down the alley.

Pigsy ignored it, gripping Tang's hair and scratches tight under his fingers, completely lost in the enchanting taste of his lover. Besides, he could easily be talking to someone else.

“Hey! I’m talking to you! What the hell you two think you're doing?”

Fuck.

Fuck– okay, slow down Pigsy, maybe he’s just step back and breathe. He's another dipshit in a long line of dipshits. You can deal.

Pigsy muttered under his breath, wiping his lips before he turned to face the bozo ruining his makeout session, sure to stand in front of Tang as he did. “Yeah?”

“This look like a fuckin’ fag house to you two?” The man spat, fingers curled into fists.

Pigsy rolled his eyes. “Maybe you oughta mind your business. What we’re doin’ ain’t got nothing to do with you,” he glared, and Tang put a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t do this, Piggy, it’s not worth it,” his partner whispered, but Pigsy brushed it off.

“We don't need more of your kind muckin’ around and taintin’ all the good bars in town,” the man sneered. “Every where I fuckin’ look there's more and more of you peach eaters.”

“Pigsy, let's just go back inside,” Tang urged, squeezing his shoulder.

“Look man, we're not here to cause trouble. Just go inside and–”

“You…” the man suddenly straightened up and pointed right at Tang, who hid closer to Pigsy. “You're the son of that rich space guy on the news, the one who’s gonna ‘take us to Mars’. I didn't know his son's a fuckin’ fairy– oh imagine the scandal,” He laughed, making Pigsy's blood boil.

“You leave him outta this,” He growled.

“What? What is this? Some kinda ‘Sugar Daddy’ situation? You suck his cock and he pays your rent?” The man howled with laughter.

“Watch it, I'm warning you,” Pigsy bared his teeth.

“Or better yet– his father kicked his faggot ass out and you’re the son of a bitch paying that jiàn fucker to have sex with you,” The man smiled and stepped closer. “How much for ‘im, huh? Ten yuan? Twelve? Five for a blowie, seven for a hand job?”

Pigsy heard Tang wince, which made Pigsy angry enough to shove the man. “I said to leave him outta this.”

“Pigsy– wait–”

“Aww, c’mon? You jealous? Or do you just not want word gettin’ out about your little wh–”

Pigsy sucker punched the idiot right in the jaw before he could finish his sentence, but the man was deceptively strong and managed to keep his stance.

“Oh I see how it is,” The man spat out some blood. “You wanna dance? Let’s dance.”

Pigsy swiftly went for another punch, but the man managed to dodge, grabbing and twisting Pigsy’s arm. His arm burned with pain, but Pigsy managed to kick the guy in the shin and knee, getting him to let go. When the demon went in for another punch, though, the man dodged and countered with one of his own, which hit him pretty hard.

“Yeah, you like that, you sick fuck?!” The man licked his lips, before he stuck the back of Pigsy's knee hard, bringing it to the ground.

“Pigsy!” Tang cried, getting the attackers attention.

“Oh, I'm sorry lover boy, am I hurting your paycheck?” He asked before trying to kick Pigsy in the ribs, which he mostly succeeded in, though the pig tried to grab his leg to stop it.

“You… leave him outta this!” Pigsy growled, anger burning just bright enough for him to grab and toss the guy to the ground. He gave a hard kick to the ribs for good measure, before running to Tang.

“Tang–” he panted– “Tang– you gotta get out of here– go– I can handle ‘im,” he urged, grabbing his shoulders.

“Wha–? No! I'm not leaving you like this! W-we should go together,” Tang shook his head tearfully, taking Pigsy's hand and pulling.

“Go back inside and find Sandy, it's okay,” The demon stood firm just as he felt the man get up and grab his shirt collar. Pigsy immediately jerked his head back, freeing him from his grasp.

However, he needed a stupid second to recover from the choking sensation, which was just long enough for the man to grab Pigsy's front collar and shove him against the wall, punching him again and again and again– and not just in the face, but in the stomach, in the ribs– everywhere. There was even a loud CRACK at one point that made his lungs feel on fire, but the man just kept going and going–

Until he suddenly stopped, though kept Pigsy pressed against the wall.

“Hey sweetheart, let's make an offer, eh?” The man suddenly looked to Tang who was trembling on the ground and pulling on his scarf, eyes wide with terror. “Let's say I get to take your sweet little queer ass home in exchange for this little piggy to live, eh?”

“S-stop this-! Let him go!” Tang choked out, finally bursting into sobs.

“I will! Just let me have the honor of seein’ you do a little dance or two for me,” the man grinned all smug, spurring up Pigsy's rage once again.

“You leave ‘im outta this, you son of a bitch,” Pigsy spat blood on his attacker, who gripped his throat tighter.

“C'mon, sweet thing, it's either you or the pork,” his assailant reached into his pocket where he had a switchblade– fuck–

Pigsy saw Tang's eyes go wide and briefly meet the chef's own. Immediately Pigsy shook his head– he wasn't worth it– he won't leave you alone– I can still fix this– Go. Home– when out of the blue the man was pulled away from him and Pigsy fell to the ground.

He felt Tang rush to his side instantly, though was alarmed when he realized he heard his attacker screaming– though when he looked up, it wasn't a surprise as to why.

Sandy had grabbed him, bending his arm the wrong way before kicking him to the ground and pinning him down. The man instantly begged him to stop– that he would just forget he ever saw any of them and call it a day, Pigsy knew that look in Sandy's eyes, and the river demon started striking again and again and–

“Pigsy–! Can you hear me?! Are you okay?!” Tang had apparently been trying to talk to the demon, though when he finally met his eyes, it didn't seem to matter as Tang just hugged him anyway.

“I'm so sorry– I'm so sorry– I could've stopped him– I was scared– I'm so sorry, I could've lost you,” Tang hiccuped.

“It's okay, Tang, it's okay, its–”

CRACK

Pigsy and Tang froze at the sound as the night air went still and silent, except for the sound of Sandy grunting and continuing to punch the ma–

The man's skull was cracked open– blood and liquids and chipped pieces of bones flowing and splattering out while Sandy continued– punch after punch after punch it just got worse– blood coating his friend's fist– splashing up to his elbows. The body squelched and cracked in noises so unholy it had the demon praying to the heavens it would stop and he could just forget the look in his friend’s eye– the look of pure, unfiltered, unadulterated rage as he beat the dead man again and again and again. It didn’t matter if he was punching a corpse, Sandy wouldn’t stop (maybe even couldn’t) until his rage– his bloodlust was satisfied.

Pigsy had known Sandy had anger issues, but never anything like this before…

Eventually, Tang sniffled and broke the embrace. “W-well… we should probably get you home– or to a hospital,” he smiled, looking over his shoulder. “Sandy–”

An unholy sound escaped Tang, as he instantly fell back and away from Sandy, grabbing Pigsy's arm as he watched in rigid terror. The sound was enough to make the river demon finally stop and stand, unnaturally still.

Pigsy struggled to make sound, the noise trapped in his throat. He tried to stand, and despite the fact it filled his chest with the intense burning of a thousand suns, he eventually got up.

“Sandy– it's– we can fix this, w-we just gotta get outta here, alright?” He looked around anxiously. The music was still thumping from inside the bar so it was impossible to hear if anyone was nearby, but Pigsy– Pigsy was sure they could make it.

“Y-yeah, we'll just– we just need to get outta here, alright? We'll just toss– toss… it, and then go to the apartment and just--we'll figure it out from there, alright Sands?” He forced a smile at Sandy, who didn't meet his eyes.

“Tang– Tang, let's get you up, okay? It's fine, we're all good, it's– we'll get new clothes, move to a new city, get new names– a new life. It'll be okay, everything is okay,” Pigsy tried helping Tang up, but his partner shriveled away from his touch, actively shaking with the wildest eyes Pigsy had ever seen.

“Tang– Tang, it's okay, it’s okay– we’ll just go home and lay low for awhile, it’s okay, please– just stand up and–”

“Pigsy, stop.” Sandy suddenly spoke up, deep voice cracking with emotion Pigsy couldn’t understand.

The pig blinked. “S-Sandy– Sandy, it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay–”

“No. It won’t.” He looked at Pigsy, revealing a face and bear battered with blood and bits of Pigsy’s attacker– a man– a person who was now completely annihilated and unrecognizable at the hands of the river demon.

Pigsy shook the thought away– he needed to get Sandy and Tang out of here, and fast. They were currently at the bar on Ba De and Shengli roads– Pigsy’s restaurant wouldn’t be for a couple blocks, but if Tang stopped by a corner store and got some baby wipes–

“Pigsy, you can’t make this better. Stop trying,” Sandy growled, making the chef take a step back directly against the wall of the bar.

“No! This– this can be fixed, he was an asshole anyways, w-we can just– we’re gonna go back to my place– Tang’ll go and buy baby wipes to clean you up a-and we’ll just fucking chill the fuck out for a couple days, alright?! It’ll be fucking fine!” Pigsy demanded, though shrank back when he saw Sandy’s eyes flash dangerously.

“Pigsy, it’s fucking over. Take Tang, and go home,” Sandy ordered.

“No! It’s– it ain’t over until I say it’s over and I don’t say so, s-so–!” Pigsy couldn’t stand looking at his friend, but everywhere else was stained and oozing and making Pigsy’s breathing even worse than before.

“Pigsy, it’s over, goddammit!” Sandy shouted, fists clenched in rage. “That man is dead, I killed him, and there is nothing you can do about it.”

“God, fucking– I didn't ask you to do this, Sandy!” Pigsy suddenly shouted, adrenaline pumping fast in his broken chest. “I had it handled! I coulda fixed this fucking problem all on my own but you had to be a fucking hero like you always do–”

“You really think if I hadn't arrived exactly when I did, your sorry ass wouldn't be bleeding out right now?” Sandy spat out a bitter laugh.

“I would've figured it out! But no! You have to go a-and make everything worse for yourself– and of course you won't let me fucking help you either! You're ridiculous!” Pigsy could laugh too, though it made him wince in pain.

“Take a look in a fucking mirror, Pigsy,” Sandy looked away and shook his head. “You need to get Tang and get outta here before you end up ruining not only your life, but Tang’s life too–”

“I didn't ask you to rescue me, alright?! You didn’t have to swoop in. I didn’t want this– I didn’t ask for this!” Pigsy’s voice cracked, and before he knew it tears started to form in his eyes.

“Yeah? Well I didn’t ask for you to be such a dipshit you’d let yourself get caught again, but you know by now we don’t all get what we want now, do we?” Sandy’s eyes narrowed.

“Jesus– this is just like you, you know that?” Pigsy threw his hands up, exasperated. “I go outta my way to try and protect you, and this is all the thanks I get. Nice. Real nice, Sandy,” he spat.

“Pigsy–”

“No… No, you know what?” Pigsy laughed, wiping his face of hot tears. “Let’s just– just shut up and go home already. Once we’re home, we can cool off a-and think straight and then we’ll have a plan for what we’re gonna do and what we’re gonna say. We just gotta get home first, I’m sure my Nana’ll be to help,” Pigsy tried to assert and grab Tang’s arm, but Sandy interfered.

“What, so you’ll drag her down too into this whole fucking nightmare too? Tang and yourself not good enough?” Sandy’s voice rumbled low and dangerous.

“Dammit, Sandy! I’m not letting you throw your life away! Not like this!” Pigsy begged, a sob making a quick escape before being suppressed.

“Pigsy, go before I make you,” Sandy warned, completely unmoved by the onslaught of emotion.

“No! I don’t care! I am getting you outta here a-and we’re gonna go home– and we’re gon–” Pigsy’s rambling was cut off by Sandy’s fist that sent him flying down the alley, another terrible shriek escaping Tang.

Immediate ringing flooded Pigsy’s ears, a fuzziness that had been mild before increasing tenfold now. He could feel Tang on him, grabbing him, shaking him, trying to see if he was okay. When Pigsy opened his eyes though, all he saw was Sandy holding the dead man’s knife and glaring down silently.

After a good, hard look, Sandy whispered, “Leave,” and before Pigsy could accept or refuse, Tang grabbed his arm and forced him to run up and away.

They made it all the way to the opposite block before they stopped, Pigsy's sides stinging and head throbbing too much to go on like that. Once the fuzziness cleared and the ringing in his head stopped, he finally got a good look at Tang and–

Oh. Oh god– he was still shaking like an animal, eyes wide and muttering utter nonsense to himself, a waterfall of tears streaming down his face as he rubbed his arms up and down and up and down.

“Tang– Tang, it's okay, you're okay,” Pigsy grabbed his shoulders, successfully getting his partner to look at him and loosen his shoulders a bit.

However, the second he relaxed he began to wretch and quickly stumbled to the nearest trash can where he puked his brains out while sobbing.

“Hey now, it's alright, you're okay Tang, I got you, you're alright,” Pigsy soothed tiredly, rubbing circles into his back while the scholar trembled at the effort.

It took ten minutes, but when he was done, Tang embraced his demonic partner, burying his head into his shoulder and sobbing out apologies and fears and worries and promises at lightning speeds. It made Pigsy feel like he was going to puncture a rib, but let Tang have his words, pressing a soft kiss against his head he didn't care if anyone saw and nuzzling close.

“It's alright, Tang. I got you. You're safe. It'll be okay,” he whispered, tears stinging his eyes yet again. He couldn't have chosen a more blatant lie in his life– his best friend killed someone, and was just left facing it all alone– it wasn't right! It wasn't fair! And by God was it infuriating.

Sandy was probably going to be sentenced to death for his crime, meaning the last interaction the two would ever have was him punching Pigsy in his stupid face.

Pigsy clenched his eyes shut and buried his face in Tang's scarf, finally letting out a loud sob.

His best friend was going to die because of him.

[cuckolding-books-library]

A LESBIANIZED TOWN

=====================

Most people didn't pay much attention to the opening of Tricia's and Naomi's women-only massage studio in the small town of Sanford Hills. The number of costumers peaked quickly, though. The comments posted in the studio's website were uniformly positive and included sentences such as "A life changing experience," "A wonderful, sensual session", "Exactly what I had been missing all my life" and "If you haven't yet visited their studio, you are missing the most wonderful things a woman can experience in her life." Most costumers also advised their friends to visit the studio.

If Tricia and Naomi hadn't advised their costumers to be very discreet and cautious, the massage studio would have been a source of scandal among the inhabitants of the town. The local preacher caught his sister-in-law kissing a woman who had got married at his church a few months before, and in his next sermon he advised his parishioners to be vigilant against the worrisome trends of "unnatural closeness" between women. This was not only followed by a sharp drop in attendance to Sunday mass, but also by a harsh scolding from his wife and his own brother advice to be more open minded.

"Ladies night" at the local pub became "Ladies only night". At first, male costumers tried to oppose the pub owner's decision, but after their initial reluctance, male costumers accepted the new rules without much ado.

There was a sharp spike in demand for couples therapy, and rumours of sexual dissatisfaction from wives. Some couples, sought the advice of one the two male marriage counsellors of the town. The more religious couples, sought the advice of their pastor. Irrespective of whose advice they sought, husbands were told to do anything to make their wives happy.

There was a short lasting peak in the local divorce rate, but the couples that divorced were only the peak of the iceberg, compared with the number of couples whose life was changed forever after the opening of the massage studio.

Your wife, for instance, was one of Tricia's and Naomi's first costumers, one of the first to beg them to finger-fuck her, one of the first to post one of the "life changing experience" comments, one of the first costumers to lick Naomi's pussy. But, most of all, your wife was one of the first to invite over one of the lesbianized wives and to ask her to stay over as you slept in the guest bedroom. However, she cannot claim to be the only one who has blatantly cuckolded her husband with another woman, in her own house, in her own master bedroom, in her own marital bed; the list of competitors is larger than the inhabitants of the town would dare to believe.

Although you probably aren't very proud of it, you were one of the first hubbies of Stanford Hills cuckolded by a lesbian, one of the first trained to serve a lesbian couple and one of the first to wait hand and foot on the women who went to the pub on the "Ladies-only nights". Your wife followed Tricia and Naomi's advice to the letter, "your hubby will never be able to give you the intense orgasms you will experience with women, but properly trained hubbies can still be useful. Once they become cuckolds, once they accept that they are no longer allowed to rule their wives' sex life, or to even comment on it, they can make very good and very submissive servants, whose only aim in life will be making their wives' life easier."

You were not the only one, though. The long list includes your two brothers… but also the two male marriage counsellors of the town. You even heard rumours about the preacher's wife, and one of the rumours is that she and a close female friend of her love to peg him. In one of his most recent sermons he said, "a husband who fails to support his wife friendship with another woman isn't keeping his marital vows and, because of this, he's a sinner." But maybe you'll learn very soon if the rumours have some foundation; the pastor's wife has invited your wife and you over ...

[nerdygaymormon]

Final Session, Nov 2024

In May 2023 I was diagnosed with an eating disorder and began therapy. I binge and I chew & spit, or rather I did. Over the past 20 months I've managed to overcome this disordered eating. It's been quite a journey and I've learned a lot about the how's and why's and my long history with disordered eating.

I go to a facility associated with a university and I see students who are overseen by a licensed psychologist. It means every semester I see a different therapist (it also means I pay bargain rates). It's been interesting to see so many therapists and their different approaches and how their personality and viewpoint makes a big difference in the way the sessions go.

At my previous session, we spoke about the hurricane, the stress of it and losing power for days and how my eating behavior changed. I turned to comfort foods and I couldn't cook so lots of canned and instant foods. However, within a week I was back onto more healthy eating and back to cooking several meals in one go and storing them in the fridge.

At the end of that session, the therapist asked if it would be alright if he read my blog post from 2017 which went viral and outed me to everyone. I've referenced it several times, it is clear it was an important moment for me and had a big impact on my life. Tbh, his request surprised me and felt invasive. I know that reading the blog post would then give him access to read the rest of my blog. Of course I talk about a lot of private things with him that I don't share on my blog but in my sessions with him I hadn't really discussed my current relationship with church and faith. I gave him the links to the blog post because he had a good reason for wanting to read it and I've learned my anxiety often senses danger where there isn't any.

I arrived for my current session and the therapist came to the lobby to bring me back, and he was dressed in a way that accentuated his body (he must be a weightlifter). I was walking behind him noticing his bubble butt and I thought to myself, "I don't know if I can meet with a therapist I find attractive." 😅

When we got to the room, he told me he read my blog post, it seems like it was a beautiful experience. Then he asked me what is my current relationship with this church and faith? I shared that there's a difference in my belief and actions. My beliefs have changed so much over the past few years, even as I continue going to church. He asked if I still hold the position I did in the blog post (stake executive secretary). I indeed do have that position. I shared that the calling often gives me a chance to be at church without actually attending the worship service, or even when i do go to the worship service I don't go to Sunday School, instead I go do an office to do this position.

He asked why I still go because it sounds like I'd rather not be there. I know that it seems contradictory, but it's not a simple choice of go or not, it affects other things. When the blog post went viral in 2017 and basically outed me to everyone, I had siblings say that access to see their children was dependent on me remaining in church. My mom is homophobic and me going to church helps keep the peace. To stop going to church comes with some big consequences. He looked stunned and asked if they really gave ultimatums like that. Yes they did, so if that's their position, does that mean I wouldn't be welcome at family gatherings, will it be me or them & their kids?

Plus, I live in the same house as my parents. Were I to not go to church, that would likely cause tension. I've looked at moving out but apartment rents are wildly high and would take a lot of my income. Just explaining that there's a lot of layers to consider to this decision. Also, it's not like any organization is all good or all bad, there are some positive things about church and this community, I have many friends there.

I know I am not supposed to live my life for them, it is MY life, yet I love and want to be part of my family. It feels like I have been set on a branch of the family tree and told it's up to me whether I want to use the saw to cut myself off from them. Because of that, most of them don't know much of anything that goes on in my life because I don't share with them, I don't think they'd welcome hearing about it since it's related to me being gay. I have another side of my life with gay and queer friends. I am involved in organizations for queer people. I have two sides to my life that often don't feel like they fit together.

Then on top of that, this election scares me. Project 2025 has very anti-queer goals and many of those people will be in government trying to move those goals forward. When I woke up Wednesday morning to see the winner of the election, I took some deep breaths, I didn't turn on the news or listen to any podcasts, I ate a healthy breakfast and went to work. I don't have the emotional bandwidth right now to do more than take care of myself.

I thought to myself that I have lived through worse. No matter how much they try to roll back LGBTQ rights, it won't go all the way back to where it used to be. But with that said, it will be a struggle because we've gotten used to the better climate, to being able to be out and open, to having legal protections that others take for granted. So much of queer rights have come from the Supreme Court, and with President Trump likely getting to name several more justices to that court, I foresee them undoing those rights, and the legislature and president won't fight to restore those rights through legislation.

I was 25 years old when the Supreme Court ruled that laws can't target queer people to restrict them and their rights, that laws couldn't exempt queer people from protections that other people get. I was 32 years old when sodomy laws were struck down by the Supreme Court, which means I spent over half my life with gay relationships being illegal. It was less than 10 years ago that the Supreme Court decided I could get married and only 4 years ago when it decided employees couldn't be fired simply for being gay and trans. It's the court which has step-by-step allowed me the opportunity to live life similar to non-queer citizens, and now I fear it can take that away.

I can't change or fix any of that. Whether it's my family, my church, my government, I will have to deal with the fallout from just trying to live a normal life, the kind of life that other people feel so entitled to that they don't ever contemplate what if that was not possible for them.

I think I'm clear-eyed on what my options are and the consequences of them. Sure, I've kicked the can down the road about my family and my church because there's sure to be a lot of negative consequences, but it can't wait forever. Over the past 7 years since my blog post went viral, I've gone to therapy and built a better foundation for myself. I've dealt with social anxiety, low self esteem, internalized homophobia, eating disorders, generalized anxiety, and processing trauma. I've built a community of queer friends. The reason I work at a university is because 20 years ago they offered partner benefits so I knew if they found out I am gay, I would be okay. I have a foundation that let's me now think about making some of the hard choices I must face.

I arrived for this session thinking it would be pretty upbeat and light as it's my last time seeing this therapist. The semester is ending and his rotation here will soon be over. He responded that he's glad I brought this up. He and his supervisor were discussing me and agree that it's time to end my therapy. Unless there's been a change since our last session and I've relapsed, they feel I have the internal tools to move forward without their help. This therapist was here for the Summer and Fall, so I've seen him for 6 months, and he said it's been a pleasure to see me succeeding.

It was my response to the hurricane last month, how I turned to comfort food and seemed to go off track, but then snapped back into a routine of meal prep and healthier eating, that led him to believe I was ready to move forward, that I'd really overcome the eating disorder.

I replied that I don't know if "overcome" is the right word. My experience with other mental health disorders is they're like seeds in the ground that from time to time will try to sprout, and I have to choose not to let them grow. He responded that he likes another metaphor, that we've been installing lights in a house, and now the living areas, bathroom, and bedrooms are brightly lit, yet there's the basement, maybe some rooms in the corner that are still dark, but we don't have to go there, and at some point maybe I'll install lights in those places, too. However I want to think about it, I am ready to go forward. I did the work and should be proud of what I've accomplished.

As I walked out to my car, I was overwhelmed by emotions. I think I should have felt like celebrating, but instead the feelings I've had from this journey all came rushing back. It was a lot, so many feelings jumbled together.

I again felt stunned at being officially diagnosed. I felt disgust that I choose to still be part of an institution that has hurt me so much. I felt thankful for having friends who I could share about this. I felt shame at what I’ve done to my body. I felt compassion for myself when I understood my body & mind did this to help me survive. I felt the discomfort of sitting in body positivity classes being asked to share very personal thoughts and feelings with others. I felt the shock at realizing I engaged in disordered eating every single day. I felt the curiosity and wonder when I learned how I used different foods for different reasons and how disordered eating was a way for my body & mind to deal with a variety of things. I felt sad for teenager me who used to self harm, and when he stopped doing that he then turned to disordered eating to deal with the feelings about the situation he was in. I felt scared as to whether I could really change. I felt satisfaction at knowing I made choices and was moving forward. There was a sense of safety at knowing I had professionals on my team helping me and also feeling loss that they won’t be there in the future.

It was all these feelings & more, and it was overwhelming.

I cried and let myself feel all this, and somehow crying led to a feeling of relief, it wasn't until later that I realized that I didn't even think of engaging in disordered eating in response to those feelings. It made a nice bookend as 22 months ago when I first met with a therapist about this, I left the clinic and drove to grocery store to buy food to eat in my car because of how intense it felt to talk about these things.