#i don't think i will start studying this week either

[min9yusblog]

mingyu - boy next door

pairing : mingyu / f!reader

summary : you two have been inseperable since childhood, always bickering. little did either of you know, feelings developed as time went by.

word count : 2508

genre : childhood best friends to lovers au, inspired by love next door

-

flashback (year : 2004)

"y/n!! quick, you're gonna be late!" your mom shouts from the stairs. you scramble as you pack your books into your bag, which your mom had told you to prepare yesterday night.

you run down the stairs, almost tripping. your mom stuffs your mouth with a kimbap before you rush outside, just in time to bump into your next door neighbour, mingyu. mingyu was the same age as you. he was timid, and quite frankly you didn't know how he was going to survive elementary school. the kids in the neighbourhood were always picking on him, and he would never say anything to them.

"mingyu ya, go with y/n if you're scared to walk alone. have a great day at school okay? i love you!" his mom tells him, as he awkwardly walks towards you. you roll your eyes, thinking to yourself- "ah im gonna have to babysit this kid again..."

You cross your arms, sighing loudly as Mingyu adjusts the straps on his backpack like it’s some complicated mission.

“come on, you’re so slow!” you grumble, already starting to walk. “if we’re late, it’s your fault.”

he hurries to catch up, his little legs trying to match your pace.

"sorry...." he softly mumbles, making you feel the slightest guilt.

“yah, why don't you tell the boys to stop messing with you?" you say, as you kicked a small pebble to the side of the road.

"i don't want to fight..." he says again, softly.

"you don’t have to fight, just… say something back!” you tell him.

"i'm not like you,” he replies, almost in a whisper.

you blink.

"what's that supposed to mean?" you ask, curious.

he fidgets with the hem of his shirt. “you're… brave. loud. people listen to you.”

you stop walking for a second, stunned. You, brave?

your chest feels warm. you hate it.

“yah kim mingyu!” you yell, as he turns to you, shocked from your loud voice. “from now on, I’ll protect you, okay?”

he looks up at you, surprised.

“like a bodyguard,” you add, grinning proudly.

mingyu smiles — the first real smile you’ve seen on him since you met him. “okay.”

present day : year 2025

you stare out of your apartment window, watching the rain trickle down the window as your favourite song plays in the background. you had just gotten home 1 week ago, still jetlagged from the timezone change.

for 6 years, you lived abroad in london. you had received a scholarship to study at one of the most prestigious schools there, prompting you to move 9000km away from home. after you graduated, you even landed a job at one of the largest law firms. you thrived there, and all your colleagues loved you. or so you thought.

you had also met a guy, jaeyun, a mutual of one of your coworkers. he was an architect, so both of you had demanding jobs that prevented you from seeing each other often. even so, you made it work. you both knew that at this point in your life, your careers were what mattered to you most, and you liked that there was a mutual understanding between the two of you. 2 years after dating, jaeyun proposed to you. you moved in together shortly after, and life went on. you were happy. content. keyword, were.

as you scooped out the kimchi jigae you had cooked on the stove into a bowl, your phone buzzed.

a text. from an unknown number. as you read the message, your heart sank.

kim mingyu...?

you haven't spoken to him since you left korea. you both had your gone your separate ways after university. different majors, different cities, different people.

you smile, as you start to text back.

your heart sinks, knowing you weren't ready to tell anyone the real reason you were back. you cleaned up your dirty plates, grabbed your bag and left your apartment.

the breeze hit your face as you walked towards the playground you both used to play at as kids. suddenly, everything looked so small. you laugh to yourself, remembering how mingyu used to be so scared of the jungle gym, and how you practically had to save him everytime.

"hey." a deep voice suddenly comes from behind you.

you turn around, and there stood mingyu. he was wearing his grey hoodie and black sweatpants, hair styled like he was about to go for a photoshoot. out of habit, you ruffle his hair, making him roll his eyes.

"ughhhh you always do this!" he says, as he makes his hair all nice again.

you haven't seen him in so long, why does it feel like he got taller? more... handsome? looking at him made butterflies appear in your stomach.

"what are you thinking about?" he interrupts your thoughts.

"huh? oh. nothing." you say.

for the next hour, the two of you talk like there was no tomorrow, telling each other every detail of your lives that you missed. well, not everything.

-

2 weeks later

you didn't know you missed home this much.

life never felt so good in so long.

you stopped waking up with a knot in your chest. the ache of betrayal turned into something duller, something manageable.

you helped your mom cook, and you started painting again.

most importantly, you spent time with mingyu.

sometimes it was just errands — walking to the mart, buying your sister her milk tea obsession. sometimes he’d show up with ramyeon and say, “wanna watch something dumb?” and sometimes, like tonight, you found yourselves on the rooftop, where you used to sneak snacks in middle school.

you both leaned against the wall, eating ice cream bars under the stars.

"remember when you used to cry whem your mom packed the wrong lunch?” you teased.

mingyu groaned. “i was eight.” he defends himself.

“you're still dramatic.” you say, laughing.

“and you’re still mean.” he scoffs.

you smiled.

he looked at you then, quiet for a moment. “you were gone a long time.”

you nodded. “i know.”

"you know, you can tell me if there's something on your mind. you were always there for me when we were kids, so i guess its time to pay you back."

"what do you mean? there's nothing on my mind!" you say, sniffling a little.

"dumbass. i've known you practically your whole life. you didn't think i would've known something was up with you? you've been acting weird ever since you came home."

"weird? like what?" you say.

"like.. you don't smile as much as you used to anymore. you barely talk about london, and you pretty much avoid any and all conversations about your fiancé. even when we hang out, you seem... distant. like you're carrying this weight alone and you don't want to burden us."

you looked down, biting your lip, feeling the lump in your throat grow.

“maybe i don’t want to talk about it,” you whispered.

he reached over, gently brushing your hand.

“hey, you don’t have to say anything if you’re not ready. but you don’t have to pretend with me, okay? you've always been my best friend.”

you swallowed hard, a tear escaping down your cheek.

"i came back because i have no one there. i just... life was terrible there. i was so unhappy. gyu, i- i.. it got so bad i had to take a break from work." you say, softly.

"no one? what about jaeyun?" he asked, confused.

"i caught him cheating on me with a coworker of his... thats why i left. its why i came home." you say.

mingyu's face went through a whole series of dramatic expressions — shock, confusion, disbelief, then pure outrage — like a live emoji show.

"wait, what? are you serious?!” he blurted, eyes wide.

he clenched his fists. “what a jerk. i swear i'm gonna rearrange his face if i ever see him!"

you laugh a little from what he said.

he looks at you, his puppy eyes gleaming. you could tell he felt bad for you. suddenly, he pulls you into a tight hug.

and the two of you stayed like that for what felt like ages.

-

1 month later (at y/n's house)

your mom had invited mingyu to stay for dinner tonight since his parents were busy. they always were, since he was a kid. your family practically raised him, and treated him like a son.

"imo, i can help, give me that." he says, as your mom holds plates of banchan to bring to the dining table.

"sit down mingyu, you're a guest!" your mom insists.

after arranging all the dishes, everyone started digging into your mom's homemade food.

"eomma, this kimchi is soooo good..." your sister says.

"right? oh my gosh, and the bibimbap too, thanks eomma." you chime in.

soon, everyone started talking about random things. work, school, retired life. all of a sudden, your mom makes a comment.

"you know," she said, passing the kimchi to mingyu, "i still can't believe y/n just packed up and came home like that. what even happened huh?"

you stiffened, not knowing what to say in the moment.

you were about to say something when mingyu, who was chewing thoughtfully and in his own world– suddenly said, "honestly, she handled it way better than me. if my fiancé cheated on me, i'd be in jail by now."

the room went silent. the air felt cold.

your mom froze. "what did you just say, mingyu?" she asked, not sure if her ears were playing games on her.

"i.... uh.... shit, y/n im so sorry.. i thought you told them.." he said, looking at you sheepishly.

"so, its true? y/n, tell us now, is it true?" your dad says, his voice getting louder by the second. "appa.." you started.

"how could you keep something like this a secret??" your mom says, still shocked.

"i didn't want to disappoint anyone.." you say, tears welling up in your eyes.

"jagiya, call jaeyun that bastard now. i'm going to have a talk with him." your dad tells your mom sternly.

"appa, please don't. we're over. there's nothing to talk about. we were both unhappy and we just- i-" you say, sniffling.

"look, what's done is done, okay? appa, eomma, im sorry i didn't tell you, but please for the love of god, don't contact him. i don't want to ever hear from him again" you say, before rushing out the door in tears.

you didn't know, but mingyu followed behind you.

you went to the same park you and mingyu were always at, sitting on one of the swings. you were thinking to yourself, when you heard the sound of shoes shuffling amongst some leaves behind you. you looked up to see mingyu, standing with a guilty expression.

"what do you want." you say, a hint of anger in your voice.

"im sorry... i didn't know, i didn't mean to spill your secret. y/n, please don't be mad." he says.

"its fine," you sighed. "it was bound to come out eventually."

he slowly walked toward you, hands in his pockets, the gravel crunching under his shoes.

mingyu stood beside the swing for a second before quietly sitting down on the one next to yours. you could feel his eyes on you, waiting. hesitating.

“i knew something was wrong the moment you came back,” he said after a while. “you weren’t… you.”

you didn’t reply, just kept your eyes on the ground.

“you smiled, but it never looked like it used to. you flinched when people hugged you. you didn’t unpack your bags for a week.”

you exhaled a shaky breath, blinking up at the sky. “you noticed all that?”

“of course I did. i’ve known you since you used to steal my lunch at school.”

you finally turned to look at him. his expression was serious, soft. the kind of look he only gave when it was just the two of you.

“i hated seeing you like that,” he said. “and I hated him. for everything he did to you. for not appreciating you.”

your heart twisted.

“i wanted to say something. so many times. but i didn’t think i had the right.” he glanced down, fiddling with the chain of the swing. “after all, i was just… your childhood best friend.”

you were quiet. the air between you buzzed with tension, like the pause before lightning strikes.

“i think,” he said, voice almost breaking, “i’ve been in love with you for longer than i can even explain. i thought i could live with just being near you. that maybe someday you’d come back, and maybe i’d still be here.”

he turned his head to meet your eyes.

"but then.. your mom told me you were getting married. you know, when i heard the news, i couldn't sleep or eat properly for days. i think... that's when i truly knew how much you meant to me. how much i loved you." he says.

he turned his head to meet your eyes.

“but when you told me what happened, part of me felt relieved. i thought maybe this time, i'd have a chance. i realized i couldn't just stay on the sidelines anymore.”

you stared at him, heart pounding.

“and i’m not asking you to love me back,” he added quickly, nervous now. “i just needed you to know. that someone has always been looking out for you. that someone will always choose you.”

the swing creaked faintly as you reached out, your hand brushing against his.

mingyu froze, then slowly turned his hand over so your palms touched. his hand was warm, steady — a quiet contrast to the mess in your chest. you looked down at your fingers, now intertwined, and for a moment, the silence between you said more than any words could.

"you always do this," you whispered.

"do what?" he asked, eyes searching yours.

"show up. just when i think everything's falling apart." you let out a shaky breath. "even when i push you away… you're still here."

he smiled faintly, his thumb brushing over your knuckle. "i never left, y/n. i never will."

it hit you all at once — all those years, the teasing, the shared snacks, the late-night talks under the stars, the way his eyes always softened just a little more when he looked at you — it was all there. you had been running from it, or maybe just too afraid to admit it.

but now, sitting next to him on that old swing set, the boy who had always stood beside you… you finally saw it.

and you felt it.

"mingyu," you said, barely louder than a whisper.

he looked at you. really looked at you.

you leaned in, slowly — cautiously — giving him every second to pull away. but he didn’t.

your lips met his softly, gently — not the kind of kiss that demanded, but one that promised.

and in that quiet corner of your small hometown playground, everything just… clicked.

-- end --

a/n : thank you for reading! i hope u enjoyed it <3 i'm taking reqs now, so feel free to drop me one! until the next fic :)

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @chennqingg divider by @fictive-sl0th

Biker!Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader | No Outbreak AU

Warnings for this Chapter: drama? a fight, Tess, talks about an age-gap, fluff! slight thirst - oops

Word Count: 3,3k

a/n: We're gonna have some fluffy time - or are we? 😶‍🌫️

《 M a s t e r l i s t 》

《 Chapter Sixteen 》《 Chapter Eighteen 》

Chapter Seventeen...

...in which you try to smooth the waters with your sister and welcome your boyfriend back in town.

Your cheeks reddened at her accusation. "Probably? I don't know... Oh, he, he likes to ride," you quickly changed the 'topic'. "Oh my gosh, really? But that's perfect, Y/N!" "Heh, uh.huh." "I mean... Liking horses? Hello?! Is he the perfect match?" Tess giggled - and you swallowed. "Mhm, yes, I hope so..." The riding thing wasn't a lie either. You just weren't talking about horses...

Taking another deep breath, you tried to keep a cool head. "Alright, alright, chill out for a second, okay? I'm going to answer everything, yeah? One thing at a time..." You didn't know if stalling would make things better, but... All your instincts told you to try, at least. You were too afraid of the outcome of this conversation. "Alright, sure, sweetie." Your big sister lifted both her hands in surrender.

You nodded. "Okay, so... He, uh, he's from Gainesville, G-" "Uhh, so you met him during your first semester?" Tess interrupted you instantly. "Is he a student, too?" "No, he-" "So you met him outside studying?" You narrowed your eyes; were already frustrated. "Could you please let me finish talking?" Tess just giggled. "Sorry."

You took yet another deep breath. "Yes, I, uh met him outside studying." It wasn't a lie, was it? "He's super hot, uh, long hair, beard, tall..." "Go on, sis." "Uh, lil' bit older..." You mumbled; trailing off. Tess raised an eyebrow. "You got a thing for older men?"

"He is, yes."

Tess kept continuing to pester you with questions, and you tried to describe Daryl without actually describing him - what a challenge. Nevertheless, you weren't telling a single lie.

"Is he a great kisser?" "The best." "And good in bed, too?" She continued; grinning cheekily. You, though, swallowed hard. Her words triggered quite a few memories of yours and Daryl's past. Not necessarily unpleasant ones, but... The knowledge of what came after was staining the 'good time' - but you quickly pushed those foul thoughts aside. It wasn't like this anymore. The past was the past. You and Daryl were working on the future now; intending to create new memories.

Tess smiled brightly and placed her hand on your forearm. "Sounds like he's better than you-know-who. I'm truly happy about this, Y/N. That you got finally over that asshole and made a fresh start."

Once more you swallowed hard; knowing very well that you shouldn't keep her in the dark for longer. You had 'wasted' enough time. "W-Well, uh, yeah, it definitely is a fresh start, but... But not like you think." Tess frowned and raised an eyebrow. She was now definitely confused. "What do you mean?"

Now or never.

"Daryl was here, wasn't he? A few months back?" Tess' expression darkened. "How do you know that?" "He found me, Tess. In Florida." Your sister's eyes widened at your words. She wanted to instantly say something, but you cut her off. "No. Listen to me before you say anything. Please." She nodded wordlessly; yet with a hardened gaze. "He found me. Mrs. Peterson told him where I was - unintentionally. I was so angry at him, Tess. So angry. I even slapped him." You paused; recalling the memory. "He wanted me back. A second chance. He told me that he loves me. I never saw him like that before, Tess. Broken, insecure, sad... Even afraid. But I couldn't. I told him I needed time and space. I had to let the scars heal. Daryl luckily understood and left.

"I didn't spend the first two weeks of my semester break on the campus, Tess. I'm sorry I had to lie to you, but you wouldn't have understood. We both know that. I spent the two weeks in Gainesville with Daryl. I gave him a second chance. An opportunity to prove himself. To show me that his intentions are pure and honest. I was more than just cautious, but... He showed me, Tess. And-"

"And so you just let him back into your life?!" Tess couldn't hold back any longer; her voice filled with anger and disbelief. "This is a joke, right? You are fucking kidding me..." You swallowed hard and shook your head. "I-I'm not, Tess. Daryl and I are together now. Truly. W-We made a fresh start and taking things slow." Your sister groaned and pressed the heels of her hands in her eyes. "Y/N... Do you really think that's a good idea after everything that happened? He used you! He treated you so bad and broke your heart!" She was clearly frustrated and worried. You could tell - but it wouldn't change a thing. "Don't assume that I don't know that. I do. I am fully aware of this, and believe me, I asked myself that question a lot of times... But love is strange, sis... You can't choose with whom you are falling in love with. It just happens."

Tess immediately started to shake her head and crossed her arms over her chest. "That's not love, Y/N, that's poison." You took a deep breath; trying to stay calm. You knew that this conversation wasn't going to be an easy one, but that...

"It is. I can feel it and Daryl feels it, too. He opened up his heart for me." "Oh come on, that's ridiculous and we both know-" "Tess," you interrupted her this time. Your voice was firm and serious. "Daryl is the man I have fallen in love with. He is the man I chose - and you have to accept it. Whenever you like it, or not. I don't ask you to become best friends with him. I only ask you to give him a second chance as well. Everybody deserves one. Please. Just try." With those words, you stood up from the corner bench, took your cup of hot cocoa and left the kitchen. Continuing this discussion wouldn't lead to anything, so you decided to end it. Perhaps it was even for the better. You decided to give your sister some time to think about this.

"Where are you now, baby?" You asked and rolled over on your bed; deciding to change the topic. "'M in Missouri now. Just drove outta St. Louis. 'M headin' for Kansas City 'n call it a night." "So the weather is behaving so far?" "Yeah, 's okay to drive at the moment. Not too bad. I hope it stays tha' way." You smiled to yourself. "So... Does that mean you'll be here by tomorrow evening if everything goes well?" Daryl snorted out a soft giggle. "If 'm gonna get up early 'n try real hard, then yeah." You instantly regretted your sentence quite a bit. It wasn't your intention to 'challenge' Daryl and urge him on to get faster to Miles City. You'd never forgive yourself if he'd crash the car and get hurt or worse.

Back in your small apartment, you flopped down on your bed, which also functioned as a sofa and pulled out your phone to text Daryl; asking him where he currently was and if he had time to spare for a phone call. When you didn't receive an answer, you just called him. Since he wasn't picking up, you assumed that he was driving at the moment and unable to accept your call or read your text. So, you decided to leave it be and leaned back; hands crossed behind your head. Your thoughts immediately wandered off to the conversation you just had with your sister. You truly hoped that this New Year's Eve wasn't going to end in a disaster...

The vibration of your phone against your thigh ripped you from those thoughts again. Reaching for the little device once more, you quickly spied Daryl's number and name popping up on the screen; causing you to smile.

"Hey there," you picked up the call. "Hey, sorry, sunshine. Couldn't pick up the phone. I was drivin'." "Yeah, I thought so, but I tried anyway - which was kinda stupid, sorry..." You performed a facepalm and pinched the bridge of your nose. "No, 's a'right. Needed a break anyway. Had ta take a piss. Wha's up, darlin'?" "Well..." You bit your lip. "I just talked to Tess..." Daryl inhaled deeply. "How did she react?" You couldn't see Daryl, but you were convinced that he was chewing either on the inside of his bottom lip, or the tip of his thumb. "Like anticipated... Not very positive." "Fuck... So much for yer plan..." You swallowed. "Yeah... I explained the situation, tried to be reasonable, but... She didn't believe me, I fear. Nevertheless, I made it clear to her that you are the man I love and chose, whenever she likes it or not. She has to adapt to the situation... Told her that I'm not asking her to become best friends with you, but to simply grant you a second chance and at least try to get along with you. I hope she will give it some thought..."

Daryl was quiet for a moment on the other end of the line, before his raspy, soothing voice urged to your years again. "Yeah... 'm hopin', too, 'cause I really wanna give this 'nother chance. I know I fucked up with Tess' as well, 'n she has every right ta hate me, but... I dun wanna be at war with 'er. We are both adults 'n we gotta get our shit together - least for ya..." You sighed softly; smiling tight-lipped. "That would be amazing, really, but I guess all we can do now is wait and see..." You received an approving grunt from your partner.

An unpleasant shiver ran down your spine at the horrific thought of that.

"If not that's okay, too, Dar," you instantly tried to back-track. "Just want you to drive safely, yeah? It's winter after all." "'Course. Dun worry 'bout me." You nodded to yourself. "Good. I'll see you, then. We text, yeah?" "See ya, darlin'. 'M textin' ya as soon as 'm in my motel."

After ending the call with Daryl, you checked the time and got up; making your way down to the stables to feed the horses.

Around lunchtime the next day, you approached the kitchen. Your destination was clear. It was about time that you talked with your aunt and uncle, since Daryl would be here soon...

Walking inside the spacious room, you found your aunt and uncle sitting opposite each other at the wooden table. Your aunt was cutting vegetables for the soup you knew she was going to cook for lunch, and your uncle had spread out the newspaper in front of him and was sipping on a cup of tea. "Thea? Joe? Can we, uh, talk?" Both heads got lifted; gazes drifting away from their work to face you. "Hello, honey," your aunt Thea spoke warmly with a smile on her face. "Of course we can talk." Your uncle nodded and patted the empty wooden chair; offering you to join them and take a seat.

Thea and Joseph exchanged a look, before they both chuckled - leaving you slightly confused. "And here we were, thinking you wanted to confess that you committed a crime or something," your uncle said then; shaking his head. "We expected worse," agreed your aunt and continued: "But, Y/N, honey... First off, you certainly don't have to ask us for permission if your boyfriend can stay over. You're not a teenager anymore. And secondly..." Thea smiled and placed a hand on top of yours. "We'd absolutely love to meet him, right, Joseph?" Your uncle nodded. "He a decent lad, yes?" You smiled at the positive reaction of your aunt - and your uncle's scepticism. Joe wasn't your real dad, but not less caring. "He is. Daryl's a mechanic and works in his brother's workshop." "So he's into cars?" You shook your head; still smiling. "Bikes." "Ah, I see," Joseph nodded approvingly. "Where did you meet Daryl?" Asked Thea then; attentively listened to your words. "We, uh, well... We met at the 'Rowdy Raccoon', but he's from Georgia. Gainesville, to be precise. He was on a bike trip with his friends and..." You trailed off for a moment. Your mind took you back to that one evening quite a few months back. "Well, uh, this is a story for another time, I'd say, but let's put it that way... We had initial difficulties. Nevertheless, we found back to each other."

"What is it, Y/N? Something serious?" Thea's expression shifted into slight concern - which you quickly extinguished with your answer. "No, no, no, don't worry. It's all good." You gave them both a soft, reassuring smile. "It's just..." You started and took a deep breath; not knowing how to actually say this. It wasn't like you did that on a regular basis...

"Well, I, uh-" "Stop beating about the bush, kid, and just spit it out, eh? We won't bite," your uncle urged you on with a smile and tried to coax whatever you had to say out of you. "Okay, okay," you chuckled; fingers fumbling nervously with the sleeves of your sweater. "I have a boyfriend and I invited him to spend New Year's Eve here, is that okay?" You just blurted out then; almost stumbling over your words.

Thea nodded. The smile was still present on her face. "I'd say he sounds like a decent man." "He is. I promise." "Hopefully," Joe added; taking a sip of his tea. Before you could even answer reached Thea over and chidingly swatted her husband's arm - accompanied by that look. You had to suppress a giggle. Then she turned her attention back to you. "Well, we can't wait to meet him. When will he be here?" "Uh... Sometime today." Your cheeks turned in a soft pink. "Most likely this evening or rather late night. I think I'll go see him at the motel and bring him home tomorrow morning." "Alright. I'll make sure to prepare some more food in the next few days then," your aunt stated with yet another smile.

Once you had slipped inside your shoes, you left the house and walked through the few inches of snow to your car - needing to free it from the snow, of course and then drove to the motel in the city. It took you a hot minute, though, since the streets weren't entirely clear. But about fifteen minutes later, you parked your car on the big parking lot of the motel and texted Daryl.

It was already close to midnight, when your phone made that typical incoming message sound. You were currently laying on your sofa/bed; watching some trash TV with your miniature television.

Checking the message, your heart skipped a beat when you saw Daryl's name had popped up on the screen. 'At the motel now, sunshine.' it read - and you were quick on your feet. He was finally here, in Miles City - and you couldn't wait to see your boyfriend again. You switched off the TV, grabbed your car keys, phone and a warm jacket. Then you closed your apartment door behind yourself and quietly made your way downstairs - knowing that your aunt and uncle were already asleep. Tess certainly wasn't. You were quite sure of that.

'Which room, baby?'

The answer came promptly.

'76'

You smiled and got out of your car; making your way as fast as possible inside the motel – successfully without slipping and falling flat on your face and kissing the ground. Once inside, you searched for room number 76 - trying to focus on the here and now and not let your brain lead you down memory lane again. This was different.

When you came to stand in front of the correct door, you took a deep breath and knocked; heart beating fast against your chest in excitement to see the man you loved again - even if it hadn't been even a week since you lastly saw him.

You smiled; cheeks heating up. "S-Sorry, I-" You didn't get to finish your sentence. Daryl had reached for your hand before you even registered it, and reeled you into his arms. Your body crashed into his, which caused your palms to connect with his still damp chest. And before you even knew what was happening, were his lips on yours; literally kissing you breathless.

Daryl was quick to open the door - standing in front of you half naked, with just in black sweatpants, socks and a towel dangling around his neck which he used to dry his wet hair. He smiled upon seeing you. "Hey, cowgirl."

You just blinked and kept on staring; not having expected to be greeted with this view at all. Not that you complained, though. It was just... not what you thought awaited you.

The biker's chuckle - followed by his deep voice snapped you out of your trance-like state. "Do ya wanna come in or jus' keep on starin'?"

You gasped in surprise, but couldn't help yourself but to melt against him; letting your lips move in sync with his. It was the first 'proper' kiss you shared, since you and Daryl were in an 'official' relationship - and it caused fireworks to explode within your whole body. You had to shockingly discover that you had dearly missed this. Those kind of kisses only Daryl was able to give you. Those kind of kisses who turned you into an addict on the first night you spent together. One thing was certain... You never wanted to miss them again.

The both of you only parted when you ran out of air. With your palms still on Daryl's chest and his hands on your waist, you inhaled deeply; getting fresh air into your lungs. You felt almost delirious, were still lost in the kiss and the touch of his lips - until the biker gently bumped his forehead against yours; his laboured breath fanning over your face. "'M sorry, darlin'. I shouldn't 'ave done tha'. I jus' lost control 'n-" You shook your head and interrupted him; rubbing soothing circles into his pecks with your hands. "No, don't be, please. I loved it." You reassured him and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth to prove your point.

Daryl swallowed. His troubled blue eyes meeting yours. "Y-Yeah? Ya sure?" "Absolutely," you said with a smile. The biker returned your smile and angled his head to entangle your lips in another kiss, but this time it was way more loving and chaste. Not as desperate and sensual as before. Nevertheless you enjoyed it. You loved to feel him this close. You let your hands travel up to wrap around his neck - towel be damned, to be even closer. Daryl got the subtle hint and wrapped his arms tightly around your waist; securing your body against his.

Within minutes, you ended up cuddled against Daryl's side with your head resting on his chest while his arms were snugly wrapped around you. Another smile spread over your lips - full of love. You appreciated that he didn't push you to go further than you momentarily could or wanted to. He respected your decision to not get physical yet; knowing that you were still mentally healing. And Daryl gladly let you drive; handing over the control. After all, he wanted to get it right this time.

The both of you stayed like that for a long moment; just enjoying each other's proximity, all the while exchanging soft kisses now and then - until steps, the distant sound of chatter and suitcases rolling over the carpeted floor managed to burst the bubble you and Daryl were in.

"We, uh, we should probably..." You muttered, trailing off and chuckled breathlessly. Your gaze travelled to the still opened room door and the man in which arms you were. "Yeah, we should," the biker agreed and let momentarily go of you to shut the door, before he embraced you again, but this time pulling you over to the bed.

Your breath hitched momentarily in your throat; chest tightening, "Babe..." but instantly relaxing again at his following words. "Jus' wanna hold ya. Promise," he whispered and guided you to join him in bed. You bit your lip and smiled, before kicking off your shoes and jacket on the way.

Tags: @angelwings-crossbowstrings @dixonsdarkelf @dixons-sunshine @negansbestie @bigbaldheadname @dixonsstinkysock @imadisneyprincessiswear @loz-3 @making-the-most-0f-it @erebus-et-eigengrau @belitoxx @ffsjustletmesleep @mayday2007 @darylandbethfanforever9 @lisluvstwd @huntedmusicgardenn @marvelcasey05

[the---hermit]

20|02|2024

The burned out chronicles continue. Today I struggled so much in class, I was so sleepy and the lecture didn't help because it was really really boring. I did get a bit done at home in the afternoon since I finally set down to write down a first version of a master to do list for the next exam season, and now I feel calmer about that because I have a somewhat clearer overview of things. I also started to highlight my notes but didn't finish because I was way too tired. My throat still hurts and as always I feel like it's turning into a cold. I am too tired to also be sick I cannot mentally deal with this right now. I just want to yeet my phone in a pond and disappear into the forest never to be seen again. I cannot find any sort of motivation and I feel like every single action in my day is somehow forced and I do not like this take it back.

calm hobbit winter activities and productivity:

4.40 am morning routine behated

2 hour history of Sabaudian states lecture

read at the bus stop

daily Irish practice on duolingo

wrote down a big master to do list to clear my head

highlighted notes

stopped working when it was becoming too much

📖: Notes On Camp by Susan Sontag (and maybe I will be reading a couple of pages of Babel before bed)

[seaofreverie]

So busy with Sparkstember that I almost forgot that I go back to school on tuesday

[umilily]

I've been trying to get this fucking degree for 7 years, suffering basically nonstop, taking part in all my classes, even taking extra ones, I think at this point I more than deserve them just giving me my bachelor's. I've done ENOUGH.

[leatherbookmark]

ooooh apparently the pjo show is out? or is it just the first episode? i'm not sure but. hm!!

[obligatory-name-change]

Anyway in my opinion professor villainous and lord boxman are dating since pv's first appearance and pv just doesn't like boxman as much as boxman likes him

[fabcreature]

me: *desperately needs praise for the work i do or i will shatter from the heartache*

also me: *at least once a month cries and shatters from the heartache bc i'm convinced every single bit of praise i ever get is either a lie just to be nice, or misguided bc they don't realize i'm a fraud*

[meownotgood]

pillars. / viktor x gn!reader, fluff and angst, lots of angst actually, implied childhood friends, confession kisses, mentions of death, one singular czech pet name, kissing viktor's moles, takes place during s1 act 2, so technically no s2 spoilers but some things are implied. word count: 7.9k

read on ao3

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"You look exhausted," You hum, your voice thick with fatigue in unison, "Don't you think you should rest?" 

Viktor takes a breath deep and slow enough to hear, his hands briefly faltering as he twirls a small, bronze magnifying glass with his fingers, but he doesn't reply, nor does he turn away from his notes. 

The lab is cool, quiet — aside from the distant hum of various pressure valves and idle machinery. The Hexcore thrums. Runic engravings litter each complex, geometric surface. Viktor rests his balled-up hand on his face, bony knuckles pressing into his cheek. With his inkpen, he messily scrawls something into his notebook. Low, blue light illuminates the cluttered room and his workspace. Each side of the Hexcore pulses when you approach behind him, twirling to its own complex, ominous rhythm. Acknowledging you, somewhat. 

Viktor inhales sharply, and shakes his head frustratedly, crossing out what he'd just written with jittery, forceful motions. 

It wouldn't be the first time you've found him here, like this, mulling over some sort of invention or idea when most of the city is already asleep. Falling into a focused routine is merely second nature. And normally, you wouldn't protest. 

When you were much, much younger, staying awake as long as you could felt fun. Helping Viktor cram studying for exams in between finishing an invention the night before Progress Day became a yearly occurrence. In the weeks before finalizing blueprints for the Hexgates, you'd almost forgotten when either of you had last seen the sun. It's just that this routine has been far more absorbing, far more taxing — and the repercussions are painted clearly on Viktor's shadowed face. 

He looks drained. Worn. Like if he tried to stand, if he wasn't leaning against his desk and absorbed in his research, the weight of his own exhaustion might make him crumble and collapse. The ends of his hair stick out in messy, curled strands, from where he's anxiously twirled them around his fingers. 

You hate the dark bags that have made their home under his eyes. You feel a knot in your gut as you watch Viktor's hands; shaky, and imprecise. Flipping through the pages of his notebook to search for something. Tracing a sentence with the end of his inkpen, only for his gaze to flicker back to the start when the words failed to register. 

You sigh. Forcing a smile, even though he can't see it, you take another stumbling step forwards. Your arms wrap around his thin figure loosely, and your weight settles gently yet firmly against his hunched back, in something of a tender, evocative hug. 

Viktor shifts, his grip tightens on his pen when it almost slips. You nuzzle into the perfect, head-shaped space at the crook of his neck, breathing him in — flooding your senses with a coffee-warm richness, with the scent of ash and sweat and lingering sparks. 

His gaze softens like melted honey. As if the simple press of your body to his returned pieces to himself he'd thought he lost. Brows unpinching, your heat at his neck spreads across him in waves, contradicting the collected edge kept in his tone. 

"I'm not yet tired," Viktor lies, trying his hardest not to lean into your embrace. "I'd like to analyze this for a few moments longer. This page is," He shakes his head. "Incomplete. If I could find the key to what induces some form of response, then-" 

As if on queue, the Hexcore sparks with energy, twirling faster, glowing with luminous constellations. Viktor swiftly moves to jot something down, but as fast as the Hexcore reacted, it's just as quick to return to normalcy. 

He mutters something under his breath, slightly jostling you from his shoulders when he leans forwards in focus. 

"I swear," You're grumbling; you rest your chin on the hard edge of his shoulder, glancing between the Hexcore and his notes with passive interest. "You've always been like this." 

"Like what?" Viktor flips through his notebook once more. "Stubborn, I'm assuming?" 

"Stubborn, yes. Smart. Terribly ambitious." You reach up, until you're able to place a few taps onto his forehead with the end of your finger. Viktor barely seems to notice. He adds onto an almost-full page by messily writing in the margins. 

"I know how hard it is for you to stop those gears in that brain of yours. Once they're going, it's impossible to get them to stop." 

"Mm. And you know how important this pursuit is in particular, yes?" 

He reaches for a notched turn dial on the opposite side of his desk, connected to the Hexcore by a series of braided wires and support poles. Your gaze follows his hands — gripping carefully, with delicate, calloused fingers. There's a distinct pause. A moment of palpable tension, as you both instinctively hold your breath. 

Viktor twists the dial. Once, twice. 

The Hexcore gives off a few miniscule, pitiful sparks, like a God's first attempt at a lightning storm. And he expels a long, drowsy, disappointed sigh. 

"I do," You murmur, sympathetic. 

Viktor grinds his jaw, hard enough to feel it aching, but even through his fierce familiarity with self-induced destruction, even though he isn't deserving of this, he can't hope to hold onto the ragged bites of stress in his veins. Not when you're so warm, when the feeling you ignite in his chest with your voice alone is so terribly soft. He has missed this. 

"But I also know," You're continuing, "Every time you get close to a breakthrough, once you let yourself rest," Viktor's head nods sleepily, struggling not to fall, and you playfully tap your index finger to the end of his nose. 

"That's when you find it." 

Part of him wishes he could keep himself from listening. Of course, as strongly as he wants to be better and more efficient, because taking a break is like admitting defeat, and defeat is worse than accepting he might've reached the end of his line — he knows you're right. 

Placing the cap on his pen, he leaves it in the middle of his notebook, closes the pages to save his spot before hastily, reluctantly pushing it aside. 

You grin. You slowly shift up, and Viktor feels your arms sliding from his shoulders, your weight leaving his body. For a second, he thinks you might move, believes you'll leave and feels a sharp grind between his ribs at the thought. Instead, you place your palms on his rigid shoulders, and you squeeze. 

His lashes flutter, eyes partially rolling into his skull. His head grows dizzy, like he'd been spun. Frustration melts out of him as warmth and light take its place, shining from your touch like the kiss of stars and the rays of the sun. Bright and lovely; galaxies weaving themselves into his tired muscles. 

Relaxing, he can't help but lean back, dropping his head against your waiting chest. 

"I saw Jayce before I left this morning," You're murmuring. It's in one ear, and out the other at first. You lean in, speaking close to him this time, to make sure you've been heard. Your voice shudders through him, warm like candle wax. "Says he hasn't seen you sleep in days." 

"In one day," Viktor corrects, rather matter-of-fact for someone who's busy melting into you like his limbs are boneless. "Technically, about twenty- no, twenty two hours. More or less. Honestly… hardly worth the over-exaggeration." 

"Vik," You scoff playfully, breath fanning warmly on his skin. "You're doing it again." 

Your palms move. They drift from his shoulders to his arms, fingertips gently toying with his sleeves in a foolish attempt to touch his skin. He tilts his head all the way back, and cracks his weary eyes open to look at you. 

"And what is it I'm doing?" 

"Saying things that make me worry about you. And then expecting me not to." 

"I am not-" 

Right then, before he can speak, your hands return to his now-tensed shoulders; they combat the ache in his chest and the tightness in his throat when they roll his muscles. His chest thrums with a soothing gentleness, rich and saccharine, difficult to swallow down. 

"You are worried about me?" Viktor questions, sighing slightly when your hands work out a particularly old, tightened knot. "I have not seen you in… who knows how many days. I have lost count." 

Your mouth forms a hard line. 

"I- I know," You're answering, hands drifting down smoothly, as if they're carried on waves. They find where his tie is neatly fastened around his collar, grasping the diamond and pulling to loosen it. "I've been trying not to get in your way. Everything is just- Jayce is a counselor now, and you're busy with a thousand different things. I'm not going to interrupt your work with my stupid-" 

"Our work." Viktor's tone is resolute. It holds you, grounds you against the raging winds in your mind that threaten to pull at your pieces. "Hextech was furthered by your contributions. Do not forget that." 

You swallow, but it does little to chase away the dryness in your throat. In a hasty, abrupt motion, your palm grasps Viktor's shoulder, this time twisting his chair to make him face you. He eyes you with surprise for a moment, his tired gaze tender and weak enough to light the shrapnel in your stomach. 

"Viktor." Your head tilts, affectionate. You reach up, and brush away the messy strands of hair that cover his pretty face and tickle his forehead. "This research, this dream of yours, it's-" 

"It is a necessary risk." 

Gaze wide, you freeze up. Viktor exhales sharply, glances away from you to focus on something in the distance instead — messy shelves of discarded machinery, inventions you once worked on together, etched with your signature and his — because the way you're looking at him has an ache prodding at his heart, sharp and thorned.  

"Finalizing this thesis would simply be the beginning," Viktor continues, passionate, gradually starting to talk with his hands. "Think of the lives we could save, of the good we could prosper from this sort of technology. Enough to improve the Undercity for the better, to provide rationale for the potential dangers. I understand you are worried- but this is our life's work we are talking about. If we were to determine the true limits of Hextech, it would make our efforts worth it, in spite of… even if…" 

He stops, trails off. Glances up, and decides he might've said too much. You understand. You have always understood where all of this is going. 

The lives he could change would be worth the price, even if he was to throw away his. 

Tattered threads tear from within you — unspoken, buried deep. You've become well acquainted with the taste of denial. Sharp on your tongue, thick in your throat to meld with the bile. It sits on your lips as words better left unspoken. Eats away at your skin and your flesh and your core, settles in your limbs and at the tips of your useless fingers. Reverberates, until the ringing in your ears begins to sound like him. 

Piltover feels so distant, with the idle noise of the lab filling the room. Miles away, even though you're right in its heart. Nothing has ever been fair. It cast you aside, it was never your home. He was. 

All you've received for ages now are fake sentiments, vague reassurances. Reminders of how terribly futile your ambitions have proven to be. Every sun has to set, every star will burn out — but fuck, you don't want him to burn. 

Your mind is dizzy. Each thought spins, tipped faster and faster. Light pounds from behind your eyelids, and your stomach churns, making you nauseous. The lines blur between Viktor's figure, the floor, and the dull aura of the Hexcore, beginning to overlap everything together. 

You aren't present, or perhaps you're wishing to be anywhere but here. Curled beneath the covers, hiding under your bed like you did when you were a child, running to the furthest, broken edge of the universe so you wouldn't have to imagine him slipping through your fingertips; Viktor draws you back, grasping your chin oh-so gently. He tilts you towards him, puts your focus on him to push the rest of the world into the background. 

"Though, I suppose there is no harm in stopping for the night," Viktor reasons, his tone a soft murmur, devastatingly gentle. "I have missed you. I believe I may have neglected to make myself clear." 

And for a brief reprieve, there isn't anything sweeter. Nothing this fatal. 

His arm braces behind him, elbow resting on the edge of the desk. You follow through when he gently keeps you in place, steady on his direction; you're a compass, and he's Polaris. Your gazes don't separate, magnetized together like a hex crystal to iron. 

For a moment, he forms a small pout, in a way that would have you grinning if the circumstances were different. His expression ripens, becomes soft. Almost guilty. A plea and an apology and some form of a confession, muddled into one dangerous, indecipherable nebula. 

"You sure?" You're muttering, trying to keep your tone upbeat, regardless. "Your project looks like it's itching to fly away." 

"Eh," Viktor shrugs, he allows his thumb to brush over your cheek. "I'm sure it can wait. It understands I have more important things to focus on." 

His touch makes you ache. Guides your sorrow to entwine with his, digs in deep to grasp at your chest with such devastating familiarity. 

It's an excruciating reminder of how much you have craved this. How badly it hurts, to feel Viktor's hand tremble as he touches you, slightly unsure, when you wish he wouldn't be. Exhaustion is wound so deeply into his system, you'd think he was born with it. He brushes his palm from your cheek to your jaw, caressing idly, in an absent, lazy motion. And it frustrates you, because you know you'll soon be lost, wishing you could feel his touch again. 

Every pound of your heart reminds you of everything — of the brushes of fingers, when passing tools and pens at the work table. Hands solidly grabbing one another to steady anxieties, to offer familiar reminders. Nights spent categorizing constellations, while in your eyes, Viktor's radiance burned brighter than any distant galaxy. 

Gentle touches pressed to weary limbs. Tightening machinery, releasing the gears on a brace. An arm offered to help him stand. Instinctually standing beside him, at the side that might need you. Fingertips exploring the notches of a spine, traveling rivers of veins, mapping out star-shaped clusters of freckles. 

Tired moments much like this, but instead of protests and strives against fate, there were lovely brushes of whispers. Twin dips in the same bed, murmurs of, I'm here, you can go back to sleep. Touches that wished for themselves to be something more, something lasting. Though they knew they'd evaporate by morning. 

It's far too late to still rely on daydreams. 

You let the haze die out, tracing the edges of his hard knuckles as an apology before you clumsily push his hand from your cheek. Standing up straight, the lab seeming more cold and quiet and empty than ever, you choose to put distance in between yourself, and your lost love. 

"Sorry. I shouldn't-" Breathe, you've got to remind yourself to breathe. Air catches in your lungs, sharp and dizzy, and you quickly shake your head. "Viktor, I-" 

Gods, Viktor shouldn't have to choose between you and his ambition. He shouldn't need to place his own body in the middle of making a difference, and saving himself. There's still so much you haven't done, haven't said. The life you both dreamed of and fought for is crumbling, he still has so much he was meant to accomplish, and yet — 

A hand grabs your wrist with surprising force, to keep you from taking another step back. 

Viktor's brows pinch. "Do not tell me you're thinking of leaving." 

Oh. Your gaze finally travels up from your feet, and he looks hurt; his voice barely manages to avoid cracking around the edges. His fingers dig into your wrist sharply, desperately. 

Viktor's jaw tightens, his firm grip causing veins to show in his wrist. Your shoulders slump, and you exhale. 

"I'll walk home with you. You shouldn't sleep here, it's bad for your-" 

"No, no you will not," Viktor interrupts, exasperation echoed through his tone, pain and worry laced through the lines of his palms to compel them to shake. "Tell me why you are refusing to stay. It's been weeks without change, why must you run off the moment I attempt to make time for you? I doubt you have any idea how much this torments me." 

Weeks of avoidance, days upon days where he'd watch you disappear too soon. Viktor would turn, he'd say something to the empty air because he expected you to be there, but you would be gone, absent from the lab or the hallways or the dorm you once shared. Bitter sentimentality, the hurt you forgot to take with you, is all that would linger in his bones. 

Just how far are you willing to run — in vain, until your legs might snap — to pretend you won't lose the only thing you have left, your friend, your partner, to imagine you might escape the certainty of his conclusion? 

Your gaze is flighty. It carries raindrops, flutters on soft wings, between him and the intricate, statuette angles of his face. Between the ground and the desk, and the glowing Hexcore. He has rarely seen you so unsettled. When your emotions run high, you hide them from him; unsuccessfully, he might add. Your wrist flexes beneath his palm as he feels your hand clench, and unclench. 

Little by little, you're tugging his heart from between his ribs. Tearing it apart like petals pulled, like the games you used to get lost in when you both were kids; you love him, you love him not —

"I can't stay. I wasn't- I shouldn't have tried to come back to the lab in the first place," You answer, dejected. His grip only tightens on your wrist when you pull. "Viktor, please." 

"Answer me. I need you to say something," Viktor grits out, voice getting louder, his shoulders tensed with frustration. "What is the cause of this- this fracture in between us?" 

Your arm drops. Your bottom lip quivers, and your breath gets caught in your lungs. The expression on your face is more sore than he's ever seen it, painful enough to kill, bordering on bursting into tears. 

And then, your voice quiets. "I don't want to watch you die." 

The Hexcore gives off a low, rumbling sound. The lab becomes quiet enough to hear the individual ticks of machinery gears. 

Viktor's grip loosens on your wrist, only slightly. He doesn't speak, he can't listen to his heart or his head when he's placed between the persistent thrumming of both. You aren't looking at him. Regret dawns on your face, then sadness, then something he can't recognize when you turn your head away. Fatigue curls into his system, and settles amongst everything else: the guilt, the anticipation. The raw, forceful tenderness. 

It's a reminder that you're right. 

The passing of each slow second seems to exist for just the two of you. Dragging on and on. Barely helping him to find any answers. If only there was more time. 

Words could never be enough, burying your emotions like lodging a knife way deep in your chest isn't working. Your partner was made to burn bright, to exist as an act of defiance itself. To dedicate his mind and his body and his bruised hands to progress, no matter the obstacles or limitations, the past grievances or untold emotions. 

So many moments were never adequately spent. Days and weeks across years taunted you, moments spent as friends and colleagues, despite half of you belonging to him. 

You just needed one push, one thrust into the light to stop you from holding back, because you knew you risked ruining everything. But if Viktor continues, if the Hexcore grows more and more dangerous, if the council continues to require more of him, and what you haven't spoken about becomes true — there won't be anything left to ruin.

And as he watches you collapse, firm on the outside but weak on the inside, turning back to him because you have to, not because you want to, Viktor finally understands. 

He knows this body is… wilting. 

Decaying; he can feel every ounce of newfound weakness in his limbs, knows he's a servant to his own existence as it waits for him to waste away. Many from the Undercity are much less fortunate. He is grateful you are stronger than him. 

More pressingly, he is acutely, abruptly aware of how little time he's spent with you — it runs as fierce in his chest as the hourglass-shaped reminders of the short span he has left. You used to be inseparable, you shared the same dreams. Your talks weren't limited to melancholy utterances of, Have you eaten yet? and, Is your leg okay? and, I never see you anymore, will this time be the last? 

How he's chosen to treat himself are small deaths, in a way. Promises to join you later that led to nothing, nights of exhaustion framed by mornings of fading in and out. He's followed his own guide to avoidance, the steps were simply laid out differently. He's grown sick of it, truly. And deep down, or perhaps on the surface, he is so, terribly exhausted. 

Swallowing thickly, you remain frozen in place, waiting for him to give up, for his hand to slip from your wrist. When it does, you continue to linger. Your heart pounds loud in your ears. Little glances at him greet you with his face downcast, his shoulders slumped. 

You sigh — and you decide this can't be it, or perhaps you're just not ready. You draw yourself dangerously close, to trail your knuckles down Viktor's sharp jaw as a weak apology. 

If there's one thing he isn't accustomed to, it's throwing logic to the wind. Viktor tries to think of this like his notes, attempts to categorize and interpret these emotions. He imagines there's diagrams and logs in his own swirly handwriting, outlines that would guide him to precisely what he needs to do. 

None of it works, of course. It's a terribly juvenile line of thinking. And he's rarely one to give into impulsivity, but you make it so difficult to think, to focus. 

His breathing is already quickening and sharpening, creating pockets of light in his weak lungs, even through the reminders of his own mortality's shadow. Nothing is more important than the feeling you cradle in his chest, bright and fate-defying. 

It would not be like him to accept this. To fade out with a hundred contributions unfinished, a thousand words unspoken. Confessions meant to fall from his voice like meteor showers, fears and regrets with no way to form on his tongue. The thought alone leaves him troubled, choked. His jaw tightens in frustration, only relaxing when the ghost of your fingertips guides him to. 

Low light frames you, the features of your face troubled; oh, he can hardly remember the last time he's seen your smile. But he remembers, knows it to be beautiful. The slight softening his gaze undergoes as it flickers across you is utterly familiar — you pointed it out, once. 

Your eyes overfill with warmth, they melt like amber. Your pupils widen like big, lovesick moons. His head can't help but spin; there's so much he never realized, when you did.

His hands like to absently search for something to fiddle with when he needs to think. His fingers have a habit of tapping against something methodically: his desk, the spine of his notebook, his own forehead. The mark above his mouth follows his lips, when they tip into a smile. He's doing it now, surely. Softening in your afterimage. Gaze warm, honeyed, hopeful. 

No, he isn't sure if his fate can be changed; he's treading close, but he isn't dying yet. The Hexcore is unresponsive to every stimulus he's attempted, but his research is far from complete. There are mountains of quandaries he isn't sure he can fix, pitfalls remaining just out of his control. All but one, all but this. This is something he could do, something he can change. 

You almost speak. Almost give some useless, parting words when his tired, gentle eyes drift back to yours, two ships on the same sea. He's inquisitive, hesitant, his brows creased together in thought and with conviction. The mere sight of him — hair a mess, skin pallid, ignites a thousand feelings and worries in your gut; a lighter tossed to a puddle of gasoline. 

It's something Viktor picks up on. 

You look pained. Unsure of yourself, from the way your eyes can't quite meet his own, from how your hand slips away from his cheek, as everything in you threatens to disappear. Weary, as you gaze at him like you've already lost him. 

You've forgotten how to read him, he realizes. Caught up on what you might lose, the both of you have forgotten what you could have. Viktor's heart feels like it might burst, with enough force to make the sun's implosion look weak, and you don't understand, he'd have to show you. 

He takes it as a sign. Grasps the last chance you've extended to him, and runs with it as fast as he can. 

His name dies on your mouth, before you have the chance to speak it. Echoes haunt your soul when his palm finds your cheek, solid, sure; Viktor pulls you in hard, threads of distance easily closed, and he presses his lips to yours with an intensity that feels vividly visceral. 

It won't fix what's already been done. This isn't a promise, falling short between being reassurance and becoming a goodbye. It isn't the way he would want to confess, if fate was kind enough to give him a choice. 

But Gods, logic and reason, worry and mortality are all melting into nothing. Fading and fizzing into the sky, budding and beginning anew in his lungs — because for so long, he has needed this, needed you. As fiercely as dead parchment longs to be burned. 

Your body immediately goes tense in surprise. Your arms awkwardly hover in place, until Viktor's head tilts, following the gentle aria, his palm brushing from your jaw to your cheek to hold you close — as though you're still prone to vanishing, if he were to let go. Like this is the beginning of too many firsts, and even more lasts. This kiss is worthy of savoring. 

So, you do. You let your eyes flutter closed. You shift forwards with a shaky step, practically stumbling into him. 

It's sweeter than you ever could have pictured. The subtle roughness to his chapped lips. The slight tickle of his breath, when you pull apart for long enough to hesitate, but not enough to gain the wisdom to stop. 

Soft kisses draw you further, closer. A hand holds his cheek, a palm braces to his shoulder. Careful to use little force, to avoid any accidental hurt. 

Viktor follows, leans back, has you bending closer as you get caught in his butterfly effect; blue light bathes you, and the Hexcore shifts, utterly radiant. There's a moment of separation, a brief second where your eyes barely get to flutter open. A pause that promises to be your last opportunity for regret. Greedy and urgent, brutally eager, Viktor drags you back in, keeping you caught in his penumbra. Coaxing you to cage him in — to kiss him like you mean it. 

The taste of you is vivid, perfect, intense, rich; you make charged electricity glitter down his spine when your fingers curl into the soft, chestnut tresses of his hair. Grasping, pulling, leaving it even messier than it already was before. 

Your lips part, your breath forms an intoxicating meld with his. And he is only foolishly, stupidly human. Made of flesh and bright dreams, etched with soft skin and fervent desires. Too weak, desperate, and caught in your echo to contemplate anything but the way his own name sounds — the V is a soft vibration, the completion of the consonants makes it sound like reverence — when it's breathed into his mouth. 

Hazily, he feels your palm press, shoving gently to his chest, pushing his back against the desk in a clumsy effort to bring yourself closer. His chair shifts slightly from the movement, rusted wheels grating the tile. Your palm finds its place between his lower back and the desk's firm edge, bracing some of his weight, and acting as a buffer, keeping him from pressing against it. 

Viktor melts underneath you, breathes a soft noise into your mouth that begs you not to stop — as if you could. As if you haven't wanted this in an unquantifiable amount of ways, across an infinitum of discarded daydreams. You're left to steal gasps in between, clinging onto quickened sighs that rival the struggle of keeping your head above water, as wild waves crash over your skull. 

Out of breath, he blindly fumbles to find your shoulder; pushes gently, silently asks you for a moment of reprieve. 

You draw back immediately. You're unable to stop yourself from shuddering when he softly breathes your name. Familiar accent curling around the syllables, giving them life and importance like your name was made for him to say. To whisper, to covet, to plead. 

"Lásko," Viktor coos, as his eyes grow heavy. Glinting, with a spark of zeal that tells you to stop holding back. 

You're well acquainted with the warm, softhearted nickname. You know it to be something Viktor taught you himself, between gentle explorations of the few things you didn't already know about one another, when your late-night curiosity and desire to learn led you to, Oh, and what name would you use for someone special? 

His jaw grits; his next words, murmured in his mother tongue, resemble a sharp, possessive swear. His head tilts with yours when you lean closer — but you shift, falling in to let your lips find his neck. 

The kisses you place there are hurried, desperate; like rays of light, as if you don't have time. Obediently, he stifles a whimper, and allows his head to fall back. It leaves plenty of room for your wandering hands to crinkle and press aside his shirt collar, and you place your lips on the firm, jutting curve of his collarbone. 

You find the twin moles on his neck tendon, blessing a kiss there, near desperate enough to bruise. You follow them like a treasure map, to kiss the perfectly-placed mole above his mouth. Your palms cup his face faintly. Then, you sweetly kiss the mark on his opposite cheek, your lips warm, laced with fervent sparks. 

Viktor shudders, he feels lighting race up his spine and split him open like a scythe. He's been avoiding his own declining reflection for weeks upon months now, but he doesn't need to remember much of himself to still know exactly where you're kissing, like the back of his hand. 

The ghost of your lips just above his mouth, and then to the apple of his cheek send a thick, syrup-sweet realization reeling through him. His moles. It reminds him of fingertips playfully tapping his face. Of soft comments and pretty compliments, portraits of his own image that he'd never forgotten because they were from you. 

When you hear the hitch in his breath, he swears he feels you smile against him. He's certain, once you shift back down to his neck, to repeat the process all over again. Placing messy kisses onto his soft skin, worshiping the intricacies he would've never thought were admirable. Memorizing each placement as though it's deliberate, like making a map of the night sky's constellations. And Viktor swallows, shakes, softens. 

Blindly, you search for where his hand has been kept at your side. You grasp it, and pursue the natural interlacing of fingers: yours fitting perfectly between the gaps of his. 

Trying not to shudder, failing when your breath fans against the right-angle corner of his jaw, he guides his free hand to trace the small of your back. His fingertips are gentle, hesitant. Careful brushes akin to a study, an exploration. 

With a dizzy mind and even more muddled thoughts, he doesn't expect when you support your weight by placing your knee on his stool, between his legs — when you lean in close and fast and hard, crashing your lips against his once more. One kiss isn't enough, so you kiss him again; you let yourself be pulled in on his current, and he forgoes breathing to drink you in instead. 

Your body arches into his touch, curves when his palm presses flat to your back, attempting to feel as much of you as possible. You want to be pliable beneath his warm hands like clay, because at least being molded would leave an imprint. You'd have something to remember what this meant, what his touch felt like. 

Seconds and minutes bleed into one another. You can barely tell where he begins, and you end. Two halves of the same anatomy, you can feel the thrum of his inherent light beneath your breastbone. 

The Hexcore watches. Pulses, hard enough to make pens begin to roll across the desk. To topple a precarious stack of diagrams, which sends a few papers fluttering to the ground, to make the steel marbles of a Newton's cradle clumsily clink together. 

Neither of you notice. The response Viktor's been searching for spikes just beyond his reach. You make him feel weightless, as though the fragility of his own vessel is more of an afterthought, until he could be ripped into fragments and you would be there to put him back together. Viktor's palm holds the back of your neck, his head tilts with yours, and you kiss. Falling into one another, only unfalling to breathe. Your atoms melt into his particles, blossoming a blur between your two shapes. Your heart pounds with his, to a rhythm so exact they could be mistaken for the same singular beat. 

Finally pulling away requires a mountain's worth of strength and effort. You only do so because you've got Viktor's back pressed hard against the desk, and he's practically about to fall off his chair. 

You both needed to breathe. It takes several moments for your head to stop spinning. You can barely focus on anything, but the bruising of your lips and the skip of your heartbeat. Stumbling back, sliding from his chair to offer him more room, you cup his jaw in both palms. Soft and blissfully tender, as though this is what they were made to hold. 

Viktor sighs hard, gasping heavily. His skin is slightly flushed, still warm to the touch. His gaze stays on you, basking in your afterglow. You're used to him flinching away. A slight hesitation always laces through his fingers when you try to grab his hand. His muscles tense on instinct whenever your arm wraps around him, braced to help support his weight. 

But this time, your palms hold his face, your thumbs brush his skin, and he melts into your touch, unburdened. Gaze fluttery, expression relaxed. Giving in at last, after countless ages of starvation. 

The low light of the lab, and the soft glow of the Hexcore's rune matrix — quiet, now — frame his face in outlines of shadow and hues of cerulean. Shades of blue meld with the honeycomb of his eyes, dulling the color. Clouds over a fading sun. 

He hears the slight shake in your breath first, before he feels a tiny droplet hit his cheek; and you're leaning forward, trying to hide. Eyes shut tight, as you rest your forehead against his. 

"Sorry, I-" Viktor murmurs, weak and faint. So quiet, you almost fail to hear. "I know this does not… fix things." 

Oh. He hasn't seen you cry since you were both kids. 

Viktor remembers clumsily trying to comfort you, making a crude somewhat-flower-pinwheel out of scrap metal as a gift, because he thought it wouldn't fix everything, but it might make things a little bit easier. For a time, anyway. 

Reality is often a cold, cruel overseer. Remembering how to breathe again brings sharp pain into his lungs, it returns an ache to his tired shoulders and his strained leg. His vision comes back into focus, his future returns to taunt him but this time, something is different. 

He feels a spark. A newfound wave of ambition. The radiant golden hour, before a bright, final breakthrough. 

"It's fine," You breathe, weak and fragile, with a meager shrug of your shoulders that says you are anything but. "I didn't expect it to." 

Viktor grasps your chin, gently shifting you back to give him space to look at you. His thumb brushes a stray droplet from your cheek. He tuts: a soft, teasing, tch sound. "Ah, but for a time, the world nearly felt miles away. Did it not?" 

His gaze is hopeful, almost nervous. Trying to gauge any slight shift in your reaction. Thankfully, his voice seems to swiftly bring you back to life. You laugh a bit, wiping the remainder of tears away with the back of your hand; there's the smile he's always admired. 

"Like we were melting into each other," You admit, a little shy, tenderly wistful. Your heart unfurls in your chest like a bright, pretty blossom. It's fitting for the both of you to recollect, to try and analyze the intricacies of every situation. "It was…" 

You're pausing, trying to find the right description, as you rest your arms around his shoulders in something of a half-hug. It was lovely? Captivating? Addicting? 

You shake your head. You're glancing away, because even remembering kissing him is enough to make your heart pound, enough to tempt you to pull him in again. Viktor tilts you back towards him, his finger lightly tapping your jaw. 

"Hm- Breathtaking?" He muses, "Better than you could have dreamed?" 

The brief lilt of confidence he embodies, words smooth as they're carried on his accent, pleasantly reminds you of when he was younger. Far too composed, and eager to prove himself. He follows it through, coaxing you forwards with a palm to your side. You're gentle; most of your weight, you support yourself, until Viktor pulls you down, patiently and decidedly guiding you to settle against his lap. 

"You know," You're cooing, head tilted, "That sounds an awful lot like a confession." 

You can see each subtle heave of Viktor's chest, expanding with every long breath he takes in. It's a tight fit. His stool is barely wide enough to accommodate himself, let alone you. His brace presses into the back of your leg just slightly: jutting metal, protruding bolts. The spread of his thighs leaves you with a small amount of space, but still forces your body to press awfully close to his. 

You're in the perfect position to witness every detail of his face. His tired eyes, the curve of his jaw, the slant of his nose. His thick brows pinch slightly, forming a faux pout, and you reach up. You brush your thumb from his temple to his brow, relishing in the instant softening of his expression. 

"Perhaps it is one. Or, actually-" Viktor hums, inquisitive. "It contains the potential to be one, if I decided to elaborate." 

"Oh? Enlighten me." 

A pause. Viktor bites the inside of his cheek as he ruminates, and your fingertips push fluffy strands of hair from his face to tuck behind his ears. 

"For so long, I… ached to be close to you." His tone is calm, temperate. It twists a shiver up your spine, cool and heaven-sent. His palm trails and caresses your face; a lesson in restraint, as he tries to stop himself from pulling you in once more. "It was a pipe dream. I assumed I was… too late." 

"I thought- I was sure you didn't-" Your shoulders grow tense and the bridge of your nose knots up, you twirl a strand of his hair around your finger and pull it away to admire the resounding curl. "Since when?" 

Viktor exhales. "We have been effectively inseparable since the day we met, I am certain you still remember when the Undercity kids would laugh and- and make jabs at my obvious crush. But, you are searching for something specific. In that case, there is one instance." 

This time, you don't have to ask him to elaborate. 

A palm tracing down the column of your neck, idle yet admiring, Viktor takes one more steady, deep breath. "It was the Progress Day after we had finalized the Hexgates. The council's afterparty was… stifling. I was fortunate to have convinced you to attend. You wore such gorgeous attire. Jayce commented, stated I was unable to take my eyes off of you. I denied it. In hindsight, it was more than obvious." 

The party was hardly your usual scene. Viktor was always the one who wound up convincing you to attend every Progress Day. 

He'd mention you should vouch for your contributions, try to mingle. You were fine with dressing up for an hour or two, but all of the drinking and fraternizing — you found the presentations about new technology to be interesting, but everything to happen afterwards was tiring, to put it bluntly. 

The occasion then was more special than most, though. There was a difference in the way Viktor asked you, sounding hopeful and stress-bound. It seemed important to him, and so it was doubly precious to you. 

"I joined you on the balcony, once I was able to shake the flocks of investors." Viktor continues, thinking, thumbing through all of the details, "You'd been saving a cocktail for me all night, if you remember. Something made with rum- apple cider, I believe." 

Viktor recalls overhearing several of your conversations. Your excitement to show off what you invented together was palpable. You made the room shine, he thinks. He watched you go on and on, when you thought he wasn't listening, assuming he was busy with his own consultations. Viktor zoned out of them, truly. Once the day's festivities are over, the rich folk of Piltover are more interested in finances than progress. 

Your words were so kind. Viktor is amazing, have you met him yet? Every sponsor and socialite would know your partner to be intelligent, inventive, incredible. He doesn't compare. It's funny, how Viktor saw the same qualities in you. 

For most of the night, you were separated; Viktor was busy with the swarm of fancy patrons, all of Piltover's finest hoping to get the latest gossip on what the partner to the Man of Progress would come up with next. Luckily, the both of you chose the same hideaway to try and escape the crowd. 

"I had been waiting for such a moment- to speak with you. You offered me your congratulations. Complimented me, on my performance of the short speech you helped me to memorize. And… so clearly, I remember you said, 'I'm so proud, Viktor. But I knew you could do this.'" 

I knew you could. No underestimations, never a doubt in his potential. You believed in him, even when no-one else did. When there weren't eager investors and a fawning council, just you and him, the suffocating smog of the Undercity, and his foolish dreams. Within the gaps in between, your praises sung as loud, unbidden, echoing strums. 

He supposes he's going to have to ask again for your faith, just one more time. 

Viktor's gaze stays focused down, for a moment. Contemplative, emotional. 

"I almost kissed you right then." He glances up to you, finally. "But-" He hums, then sighs, "There were benefactors still lingering just beyond the balcony, some of which already decided to inquire extensively about my personal life. I would have hated for our first kiss to incite such a scene." 

Viktor admires the tender kindling of gentleness on your face. Slightly pained, despite the hints of softness. It's his cue to find your cheek, to hold you close and oh-so softly like he did from the start; the cliff before the waterfall, his first step in to drown with you. 

Nothing will ever return to simplicity. But Viktor refuses to regret this, decides he should face it head on. Every building conflict, these budding emotions, the remnants of how your lips felt on his; tenderly unforgettable, a crucial step that he refuses to forget. 

You can feel the slight tremble to his fingers, the calluses on his palm — 

"Vik-" 

"I need to have your trust." 

Your eyes widen. 

"Viktor," You're starting again, "You already do- you always have. I don't want you to hesitate, you can-" 

"No, no, the Hexcore," Viktor corrects. He takes a quick glance between you, and the shifting runes of his project's surface. Glowing and fluctuating, a marvel even when it is dormant. "There is much I have not yet told the council. Nor Jayce, nor you." 

A newfound flicker of conviction blazes behind his sun-bound eyes. A brightened enthusiasm to solve any puzzle he's presented with, a key twisted into a door that he never thought would open. 

Your gaze is curious, attentive, then clearly conflicted, and he feels his jaw start to tighten. In spite, he continues, speaks with his entire chest, even though his hands tremor at the thought, and his voice is much too soft and broken and he hates the sound it makes when it's breaking — 

"You are the one thing I cannot lose." Viktor holds your face lovingly, captures you in a statue-like state of devotion, as he fights against the gnawing roughness at the back of his throat. "I believe I can solve this, but I need to know that to any end, you will follow. Please." 

It's something he's already sure of, against the faint threads of doubt in his mind. Of course you would, if he was the one to ask. The both of you are knit together as endlessly as the lines that connect the constellations, he just needs to hear you say it. 

You offer him a weakened smile, your touch brushing the curve of his face like fingertips would caress the arch of a flower's petal. "Do what you think is right. I trust you." 

Viktor softens. 

There's bittersweet catharsis in finally admitting the truth, along with an endless chasm threatening to swallow him whole — and for now, for the rest of the night, at least, he wants nothing more than to fall in with you. 

"My love," He murmurs; he draws you close, with the pull of the sea to the moon. He dares to press one more faint kiss to your cheek, despite knowing how infinitely difficult it will be to pull away. "My inspiration," A kiss to the opposite cheek, then. "My little spark." 

The lab remains quiet, dark, save for the low hum, and the glowing orbit of the Hexcore. Viktor leans his head against your chest, relaxes further once you begin gently toying with his hair. And finally, fully, he allows his heavy eyes to close. 

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I think the reader's response to this post is probably going to either be "That's incredibly minor" or "Holy shit YES I'M ALSO PROUD", depending on people's personal experiences with academia, but:

Today I am incredibly proud of one of my students.

In the interests of disguising identities, let's call them Ceri. Ceri is one of my third year undergrads (meaning their final year, for anyone unfamiliar with UK uni systems.) They transferred to us last year, and within two weeks I was giving them the contact info to get to Student Services and get themself screened for ADHD; they have some mental health struggles, but I clocked pretty quickly that they STRUGGLE with procrastination, and punctuality, and attending 9am lectures in particular. Naturally, as is the way of my people, it took them a further four months to remember to go to the screening. Lol. Lmao. Rofl, in fact.

But, they did it eventually! Their screening lit up like a Christmas tree at the ADHD section, and they got a free laptop and optional one week extensions and a study support worker named Claire. This has helped tremendously, and although mental health + until-then-unsupported ADHD meant their academic profile had slid sideways somewhat, with the new tools available and a couple of resits they passed the year and hit this year running.

Until, that is, the last fortnight.

Now, I take them for a Habitat Management module that has two assessments: an academic poster presentation before Christmas, and a site-specific management plan in May. Naturally this means we are at that happy point in the year for the poster presentations. I give out the briefs at the start of the year, so they've had them since October; I've also been periodically checking in with them all for weeks, to make sure they don't have any major burning questions. The poster presentation was to pick a species reintroduction project, pull the habitat feasibility study out of it, and then critique that study; Ceri chose to look at the hen harrier reintroductions proposed for the southern UK. All good.

Which brings us nicely to today! Ceri's presentation is scheduled for 2.30. At 11am-1pm, I am lecturing the first years on Biodiversity, while Ceri is learning about environmental impact assessment with a colleague I shall call Aeron. This means we are separately occupied during those same hours.

Nevertheless, Aeron messages me at about 12.

"I think Ceri needs to see you after your lecture," he writes. "They're panicking, I genuinely think they might cry. I'm worried. Are you free at 1?"

I say I am. At 1, I get lunch and sit in the common area; Ceri comes to see me. To my personal shame, imagine all of the following takes place while I stuff my face with potato.

Now: this part is going to be uncomfortably familiar to anyone who has ever tried higher education with ADHD, especially unmedicated. It certainly was for me. All I can say is, I never had the courage to take the step here that Ceri did.

"I have to confess," they said quietly, and Aeron was right, they were fighting back tears. "My mental health has been so, so bad for the last fortnight. I've left it way, way too late. I don't have anything to present."

"Nothing at all?" I asked.

"I've been researching," they said helplessly. "I found loads on the decline of the hen harrier. But it wasn't until last night that I finally found a habitat feasibility study to critique. Generally... I've been burying my head about it, and it just got later and later. I thought I should come in for Aeron's lecture, and I should at least tell you."

This part is a minor thing, right? But honestly, I remember being in the grip of that particular shame spiral. I never did manage to tell my lecturers to their faces. I just avoided. I honestly can't imagine having the courage it took them to come in and tell me this, rather than just staying home and avoiding me.

"I think..." they said hesitantly, "I know I can submit up to a week late, for a capped mark. I think I need to do that, and apply for extenuating circumstances. But then I'll have both Aeron's assignment and yours due at the same time."

Which meant they would crumble under the pressure and likely struggle to pass both; so me, being as noble and heroic as I unarguably am, stopped eating potato and said, "Let's make that plan B."

(It was good potato. I am a hero.)

So, we made plan A: I moved their timeslot to 4.30, giving them three and a half hours. The shining piece of luck in this whole thing was that this was the crunch time assignment - if it had been Aeron's, they'd have had to try and write a 3000 report in that time. But for me, all they had to write was an academic poster, and those things are light on words by design. We found them a Canva template, and then we quickly sketched out a recommended structure based on the brief: if it's habitat feasibility, look at food availability, nesting site availability, and mortality risks in the target release site. Bullet point each. Bullet point how well the study assessed each. Write a quick intro and conclusion. Take notes as you go, and present the poster itself at 4.30.

"You think I should try?" they asked doubtfully, looking like I'd just asked them to go mano-a-mano with a feral badger.

"If you run out of time, so be it," I said. "But your brain is trying to protect you from a non-existent tiger. That's why you've procrastinated - it's been horrible, and you've been shame spiralling, and your brain is trying to shield you from the negative experience; but it's the wrong type of help for this situation! So while you're sitting there working on it, hating life, every time your brain goes 'This is hopeless, I can't do it', you think right back 'Yes I can, it just sucks.' And you carry on. Good?"

"Good," they said. "I'm going to mainline coffee and hole up in the library. Enjoy your potato."

And then, of course, I had to go and watch the other students' presentations, so that was the end of me being any help at all. I spent all afternoon wondering if they were going to manage it, or if I would be getting a message at 4.25 telling me they'd failed, and would have to submit late and hope for an EC.

And Tumblrs

Tumblrs

Let me FUCKING tell you

They turned up at 4.15, fifteen minutes early, wearing a mask of grim, harrowed determination and fuelled by spite and coffee, and they pulled up that poster and started presenting and yes, okay, I'll admit their actual delivery was dramatically unpolished and yes, they forgot to include the taxanomic name for the hen harrier on the poster and yes, fine, I admit that there were more than a few awkward moments where they lost their place in their hastily scribbled notebook but LET ME FUCKING TELL YOU -

They smashed it. It was well-critiqued, it had a map, it had full citations, it had a section on the hen harrier's specific ecology and role in the ecosystem, it had notes on their specific conservation measures. They described case studies they'd read about elsewhere. They answered the questions we threw at them with competence and depth. There was analysis. All that background research they'd done came right to the fore. They were even within the time limit by 15 seconds.

You would never have known they'd produced it in three hours, from a quivering and terrified mess fighting the bodily urge to dehydrate via tear ducts. After they left, the second marker and I looked at each other and went "So that was a 2:1, right?"

I caught up with Aeron downstairs and he was beaming. Apparently Ceri had seen him on their way out, and had gone over to talk to him. Aeron said the difference between the Ceri of this morning and the Ceri of then was like two different people; in four hours, they'd gone from their voice literally breaking as they admitted the problem, ashamed and broken, to being relaxed and happy and smiling.

"I reckon I've passed," they apparently told Aeron, pleased. "Maybe even a 2:2. There's things I wish I'd had the time to do better, but I'll be happy if I passed."

They won't know until late January what they got, because we're not allowed to release marks until 20 term days after hand-in, and the Christmas holidays are about to hit. But I'm really hoping I can be there when they're released.

But mostly, I'm just... insanely proud of them. I cannot tell you how happy I am. And I know, I know, obviously this is not a practice I would want to see them do regularly, or indeed ever again, and it only worked because they were fucking lucky with the assignment format, but like... when life is just punching you in the face, and you hit a breaking point... isn't it nice? That just this once, you pull off a miracle, and it's fixed? The disaster you thought was about to ruin you is gone? To get that relief?

Anyway. Super super proud today.

[kira-akira]

What I Want You To Know About Long COVID

Well lads, I've been suffering from Long COVID for over a year now. My life is at a complete standstill. I'm 25 years old and I'm too sick to go back to school, I can't work, I had to move back in with my parents and I'm still stuck here.

Here are just a few things I wish people knew about Long COVID, including things I didn't know myself until I got it.

COVID destroys your immune system. Yes, even if you don't have Long COVID. Are you getting sick more often now? When you get sick, does it last longer? There are many studies showing that COVID causes t cell depletion, even in mild COVID cases! T cells are how your body remembers how to fight off infections you've had before so losing those cells? Bad news.

Your initial infection can be mild and you can still get Long COVID. Right from Yale Medicine, "Most people with Long COVID had mild acute COVID." (This is also a good link for a basic Long COVID overview).

There can be a gap of time between when you "get better" from the initial COVID infection to the onset of Long COVID symptoms. Some people get sick with an initial COVID infection and never get better. Some get better and then weeks or months later start developing Long COVID symptoms. Long COVID symptoms can even fluctuate over time, can go away for months and then suddenly come back.

So many people have Long COVID and don't realize it. Do you feel more tired lately but no matter how much you sleep, nothing helps? Is it harder to concentrate at work or school? Can you just not think like you used to? You could have Long COVID and not even know it. Even mild post-COVID symptoms are still Long COVID.

COVID can do anything to your body. Long COVID has over 200 recognized symptoms and can affect basically any part or system of your body. There is no one mechanism or cause of Long COVID which unfortunately also means there's no one cure either.

The effects of COVID are cumulative. Each COVID reinfection increases your chances of developing Long COVID. COVID is also affecting your body in other ways, yes, even if you're otherwise young and healthy! "Repeat COVID-19 infections increase risk of organ failure, death".

Once you have Long COVID, repeat COVID infections will make your symptoms worse. "80% [of Long COVID patients] saw their symptoms worsen [from reinfection]. In 60% of people who were in recovery or remission from Long COVID, reinfection caused a recurrence of Long COVID."

There is a lot more I want to say about Long COVID but I want to keep this post at least somewhat manageable to read. Like how when COVID is contracted during pregnancy, those COVID-exposed fetuses have a 6.3-fold increased risk of motor developmental delays, or that another study found 50% of babies exposed to COVID in utero had developmental delays.

You need to keep caring about COVID, for others around you and also for yourself even if you're "healthy". Everyone is at risk. And don't forget 40-60% of COVID infections are asymptomatic, which is why masking even if you feel fine is crucial. The only way right now to not get Long COVID is to not get COVID in the first place. It's not too late, if you've stopped masking it's never too late to start again! I know it's easy to get distracted by things in your life that seem more real than the possibility of getting sick some time in the future, and the peer pressure to not mask can be intense. But it only feels less real or less important until your entire life is having Long COVID. Trust me.

I know this is a complicated issue, many people can't afford to stay home when sick even if they want to because of their jobs, there are disgusting policies trying to ban wearing masks, but please if you can. Keep masking. Masking works, masking saves lives.

This post got a bit longer than I wanted so below the cut is a non-exhaustive list of my Long COVID symptoms and some of my experiences as one of the "healthy young people" who got "unlucky". cw brief mention of suicidal ideation.

Welcome to the Thunderdome that is my body with Long COVID. Keep in mind these are just my experiences and symptoms, Long COVID can cause any range of symptoms at varying severities.

Dysautonomia: Exercise intolerance, Post-Exertional Malaise (PEM), fatigue, and heat intolerance. What do those things mean? Here's some specific examples. Absolutely terrible circulation I am so cold all the time but also, if I get a little too warm I will pass out. Eating hot food makes my heart rate spike, I sweat, my body feels heavy. Blood pooling and pins and needles in my feet when I walk. Don't even think about exercising past walking, it's impossible. I used to work out an hour a day 4 times a week and now walking up one flight of stairs makes my heart pound and I can't breathe. Can't take even just warm showers anymore or I will pass out. Heat rashes from being in the sun for 10 minutes.

Digestive issues: Honestly too many to name but: constant bloating, extreme nausea, constipation, slow motility, lack of appetite, just so much cramping and pain. I lost 18 pounds from Long COVID, as someone who was already considered underweight their entire life, and almost had to get a shunt put into my chest to deliver nutrients because I was nearly completely unable to eat. For the first 6 months of Long COVID, if I could manage 600 calories a day, that was a good day.

Histamine intolerance: Oh boy. My worst symptoms, I don't even know where to start with it. If you know Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS) it's very similar. I can only eat 19 foods. If i eat a single bite of something not on that list, it's 48 hours of absolute hell. Coughing, migraines, itchy eyes, such extreme nausea I cannot even describe it, panic/feeling of doom, racing heart rate, derealization, rash, uncontrollable muscle tremors. I only learned about histamine intolerance 5 months into having Long COVID so before that, I was experiencing these symptoms nearly every single day. Terrifying isn't even a strong enough word to describe how it felt to experience all this and have no idea what it was, how to stop it, or if it would ever stop. Really dark times.

Neurological issues: More of that derealization. Inability to concentrate. Anxiety. OCD-like symptoms such as thoughts getting "stuck" in my head, repeating 24/7 completely unable to stop them, genuinely felt like my brain had cracked open and I had lost my mind. Constant dizziness like I'm on a boat.

Sleep issues: I sleep like garbage. I have insomnia, I wake up dozens of times every night and every single time I sleep I have intensely vivid dreams. I can't sleep longer than 7 hours total no matter how exhausted I am. It is exhausting. I'm exhausted, I'm so so tired.

And finally. Just. Really intense suicidal ideation. My body, my health, my entire life has been stolen from me because someone else decided my life was worth less to them than wearing a mask or staying home if they feel sick. Before I got Long COVID, I was preparing to go to South Korea to teach English, then on to a PhD in neurolinguistics, I was supposed to meet my long distance partner and had already booked plane tickets when I got sick. All of that has been destroyed.

Most of us with Long COVID are stuck in a cycle of being extremely sick, then if you're lucky you'll slowly get better over months, just to get reinfected and go right back where you started or worse. Honestly, I'm not scared of dying from COVID. I'm scared of living for a long time, suffering from Long COVID the entire time. This isn't living.

I don't know how to end this now. I'm still fighting, I'm trying experimental treatments, I'm not giving up yet. I hope everyone reading this stays healthy and well.

[somecunttookmyurl]

#OP do you by chance have red hair or at least have natrual red hair at some point in your life?

nope i'm naturally blonde but with black eyebrows bc nature thought that would be hysterical

which is a travesty bc i have green eyes + the perfect skintone for it i look really good as a ginger

a fun and fucked up fact about me is that when i was in sixth form (16-18), approximately 10 years prior to being diagnosed ADHD, i drank SO MUCH store brand energy drink that 2 things happened

1) It became such an obvious and well known Thing about me that my tutors started putting "too much red bull can kill you" news articles on the walls. These were not present in rooms I didn't have classes in. It was not a college-wide initiative. That was for me, specifically. Nobody said it but we all knew.

2) Several friends suggested, in all seriousness, I contact the Guinness Book of Records to set a record for "most caffeine consumed with no physical effect" after I had 3x 1 litre bottles in about an hour and my heart rate was still exactly the same and nothing about my demeanour had changed at all. Meanwhile Ryan had 1 bottle and was physically vibrating. Because he's normal.

(I didn't do it because it would require having a medical professional present the whole time to verify and like absolutely nobody with a medical degree is going to do that in good conscience)

[finelinemia]

BEST FRIEND’S DAD ❤️‍🔥

smut ! harry styles x reader

summary: For years now, you've found Mr. Styles, your best friend Sophie's father, quite attractive, to the point of getting wet just by looking at him. Everything changes one night, when he picks you and Sophie up from a party and you stay the night at his house.

word count: 5.2k

cw: smut, daddy issues, daddy kink, masturbation, oral sex, penetration, dirty talk, unprotective sex

author’s note: Hiii, this is my first smut so don't be too hard on me and I hope you like it a lot. I've never done something so "long" so I hope it lives up to expectations. Kisses and happy reading💋

[ dadrry! , dilfrry! ] +18

"Okay, and at tomorrow's meeting we could talk about the new clients we're bringing on," I say to Jeff through the computer screen as I watch him jot down the different things I'm saying in his notebook.

I took the afternoon off because Sophie, my 24-year-old daughter, is coming to my house for the weekend after spending the last week with her mother, and I want to take advantage of my time with her. She recently graduated from college and is about to leave for the United States for an internship, so the more time I can spend with her, the better.

I divorced her mother when Soph was 15. I remember that at first it was hard for her to adjust to her new life with separated parents and having to spend a different week with each one. But I guess everything works out in the end, and she's at her best, enjoying her last summer before leaving for another country far from us.

"You should also look over the paperwork I sent you for-" My words stopped when I heard the front door open, followed by laughter. "Just a minute, Jeff. I think Sophie's home." I took off my glasses and placed them on my desk, then turned to look at my study door. "Soph! Is that you?"

"Yes, Dad!" The door opens and Sophie pokes her head in. "Working hard?" she asks with a smile.

I smile "You could say, how was your day?"

She shrugs, "Hmm... well, we went to the beach." We? "Y/N is here."

Another head peeks through the door and my mouth goes dry. I've never thought about my daughter's friends that way before; after all, the age difference was a big enough deal to be thinking that way, but fuck, you were something completely different.

This all started when you and Sophie met in college. You were roommates, and eventually you became inseparable. You started coming over constantly, to sleep, eat, or just hang out. Seeing you here was already something totally normal for me. And at first, believe me, everything was fine, but then the glances started. The ones you think I don't notice. The way you swallow softly when you see me coming, or the way you bite your lip slightly when you see me in a slightly tighter shirt. A man can't see those things and not go crazy. And that's why every time I see you I go crazy, so crazy that sometimes I need to go to the bathroom to get my hard-on down and even masturbate to relax. You've become something I should stay away from.

I don't want to be misunderstood either. I've never done anything with you, never made the move, never even looked at you for more than three seconds because I don't know what would happen if we held eye contact longer than that. You think I haven't thought about what it would be like to lean you against the kitchen counter and eat your pussy while you moan my name and being heard throughout the house? But I'm a gentleman, and a gentleman has his limits.

"Dad, are you listening to me?" Sophie's voice interrupts my thoughts, and I shake my head. I look back at her. "Y/N's staying over because we're going to a party, okay?" A party?

"Sorry? A party? I thought we were going to spend the day together. I took the afternoon off so I could be with you." At this point in the film, I'm not surprised in the least. I know Sophie loves me, obviously, but she's a very sociable girl and is always surrounded by friends. She's almost never at home. I can at least be thankful she's responsible.

"I know, Dad, and we have all weekend to be together! But this party is going to be one of the best of the summer." She turns to look at you, asking you with her eyes to help her with this.

"Uh... yeah, it's going to be great. Almost everyone from college is going," you say, avoiding my eyes. Are you nervous already? I haven't even had to lift a finger.

"It's going to be legendary, Dad! We can't miss it, please, please." It still tickles me that Sophie keeps asking me for permission to do certain things. It's obvious she doesn't need it; she's 24 and about to leave for another country. But I guess she'll always be daddy's little girl.

I let out a sigh. "I guess I can wait one more day to be with my daughter..." Sophie starts jumping up and down before I can even finish the sentence. "I don't want you to be too late, and be responsible with your drinking. And with the men."

"Ah yes, the biggest problem today," you joke as Sophie continues jumping up and down. That makes me laugh more than it should.

"Oh! I'll see if I remembered to bring the dress from Mom's house." Sophie runs up the stairs to her room, leaving me alone with you.

"Hmm, talk to you on Monday, Jeff. Have a nice weekend." After Jeff says goodbye, I close the computer screen and look up at you. "So, how's your mom?" I ask, though I don't really care that much, your mother and I don't get along that well.; I just want to make conversation.

"Why? Are you interested in her?" you ask, leaning against the doorframe, tilting your head. I can't tell if you're serious or just joking.

I let out a small laugh as well, shaking my head slightly. Your story is quite different from Sophie's. You don't have divorced parents; your father left when you were five, but that story never leaves your mouth. Sophie told me a few months after she met you. I try not to bring it up when you're around because I know it's probably something that affects you quite a bit.

"Although your mother is quite an attractive woman, I'm not interested." I pick up the papers on the desk.

"She's fine. I think she's signed up for a cooking class. She's having the best years of her life, according to her." You glance down slightly, and that makes me tilt my head a little. "She deserves it, I suppose... after 20 years of raising a daughter alone, she needs to rest and have some fun."

The comment makes me purse my lips in disapproval. It's the first time you've spoken about the subject with me, and you seem somewhat upset, even though it's been years since then. I still don't understand how someone could abandon their daughter like that. You'll always be worried that she grew up without a father, and that will stay with her for the rest of her life.

"You look like her." My voice makes you lift your head from the floor. "Like your mother, I mean. You're both very attractive women." Did you really just say that, Harry?

You blush a little and swallow lightly. There it is…

"Thank you, Mr. Styles." you murmur.

“You know you can call me Harry, right?” I smirk.

"Yeah, I know, but it's weird calling you by your first name..." Well, I bet you'll moan it out loud.

"A lot of people are going to that party... you say?" I ask, leaning back in my chair.

"Yeah, we're planning on meeting up with our friends. Have a drink... hang out, you know, and then head home."

It's obvious that both you and my daughter want to hide what you're really going to do at those parties, but I guess you're both adults and it's none of my business, right?

"Hmm... I'm sure you both have a lot of guys after you." i murmur, and you tilt your head slightly. "Oh, I'm just asking. You know I care about Sophie."

"To Sophie, huh?" This time you're the one who lets out a smirk. “Yes, I suppose there will be some boys.”

"Hm... do you have a boyfriend?" Harry, shut your mouth before you regret it.

You shake your head. "Why? Are you interested?" I know you're joking, but I really want to say yes.

"Y/N! Come get ready! Time's running out!" Sophie yells from upstairs.

"Saved by the bell, I guess," you say, moving away from the door frame and turning toward the exit. "See you later, Harry."

I watch you sway your hips as you head for the stairs, and I let out a long sigh. Why the hell does my name have to sound so good on your lips? Fuck, on top of that, you were clearly hitting on me.

I open the computer again and start reviewing documents, trying to think of something other than my name on your lips, trying not to think about what it would sound like if you moaned it.

"Fuck-" I get up from the desk and walk to the bathroom, closing the door behind me.

I pull down my pants and boxers and lean with one hand against the wall, the other going straight to my cock without a second thought. Am I seriously jerking off thinking about my daughter's best friend?

I move my hand quickly as I throw my head back. My name on your lips keeps echoing in my head over and over again. I breathe raggedly as I increase the pace. If you've achieved this with just a word, I don't want to imagine what it would be like if you were touching me. If it were your hand right now giving me pleasure.

"Shit- shit, shit, shit..." I grab a piece of toilet paper, continuing to pump myself, and place it right on the tip, cumming on it almost instantly. "You're fucked..." I mutter to myself as I throw the paper into the toilet and flush. I wash my hands and face and head back out to my study, hoping I can work better this time.

•••

"If you need anything, just call me. If anything happens, please don't hesitate-" I say to Sophie as she finishes touching up her lipstick in the entryway mirror. "Sweetheart, are you listening? I can even go pick you up, okay? Wake me up if you have to."

"Dad, don't worry. We'll take a taxi back. Don't wait up, I know you." she gives me a look through the mirror. "We are going to have fun for a few hours and then we'll come back, okay?"

"Don't get into anyone's car, Sophie, please, especially if they've been drinking." I run my hand through my hair. I've always been pretty protective of her, but I still get rapid heartbeats every time she goes out partying.

"Believe me, Dad, there's no way I'm crazy about getting into anyone's car." She finishes applying lipstick and turns to me, but her gaze wanders to something behind me. "Oh my God, you're so hot!"

I turn subtly and our eyes meet. Remember the three-second rule, Harry. But then I glance down slightly at your dress. It's so fucking short, and tight, and red, and I need to get it off you asap.

I clear my throat and look away, returning my eyes to Sophie. "Well, have a good time, don't be back too late, and call me if-"

"If there's any problem. Yes, Dad, I know. Let's go. The taxi is waiting outside." She grabs her bag and opens the door, you following behind her.

"Goodbye, Harry," you say, maintaining eye contact with me, closing the door behind you.

"Fucking hell" I mutter to myself.

How do you expect me to behave after that? I couldn't even get to sleep. You went to a party full of college boys dressed like that and I'm not even thinking about my daughter getting drunk anymore. It's obvious you're going to attract a lot of attention tonight, and I can't help it. I'm not going to be there to stop it. I just can lie in bed and wait for this night to be over. Tomorrow you'll go home, and everything will be back to normal.

My phone starts ringing on the nightstand, and I frown. The clock marks three in the morning, and you don't usually get calls at this hour, unless it's your daughter calling you from a drunken state. Sure enough, when I grabbed my phone, the screen lit up with a picture of Sophie and her name. I picked it up after the third ring.

"Soph? Are you okay?" I ask while rubbing my eyes.

"Hi... it's Y/N." Your voice makes me sit up in bed. "Hey, I think you're going to have to come pick us up..."

"Did something happened to you?" I ask as I get out of bed and put on my slippers.

I can hear how you let out a sigh. "Sophie's had too much to drink... I can't even hold her. We're sitting on the sidewalk and she's practically unconscious."

"Fuck, Soph..." I run my hand over my face, trying to think clearly. "Okay, don't move. I'll be there as soon as I can. Send me the location, okay?" I hang up, throwing the phone on the bed and starting to get dressed. My phone rings again, this time with the location of the party. I finish putting on my sweatshirt and head down to the garage.

I get in the car and start it as quickly as I can. I don't even let the garage door open all the way before accelerate at full speed, leaving the house behind and heading toward your destination. The night my daughter had to prove to me she's responsible so she could leave for another country, she goes and screws up. And you haven't done anything to stop it.

I arrive at the house where the party is being held in less than 15 minutes and see you both sitting on the sidewalk, you with your arm around Sophie as she rests her head on your shoulder. If I weren't so pissed off, I'd actually think it was a cute scene.

I get out of the car and approach you. You raise your head to look at me. "How much has she had to drink?" I bend down to grab Sophie's head and try to get her to react. Her head is dead weight and her eyes are swollen.

"I think two drinks..." I look at you, not believing a word, "and maybe ten shots..."

"For God’s sake, and you let her do that?" I ask, frowning. "I thought you were more responsible."

"I wasn't paying attention, we separated for a moment, I was-" you cut off the sentence before you can say anything else.

"You were what?" I raise my eyebrow as a signal for you to continue talking.

"I was with someone else," you say simply.

"Oh, great. You were showing some college student how great that dress looks on you, weren't you?" I scoop Sophie up and head out to the car.

You follow me behind "I haven't even told you and you're already jumping to conclusions? I don't understand why you're so angry"

“Maybe because my daughter can’t stand up and instead of being with her and making sure she doesn’t do anything crazy, you’ve been making out with a boy.”

"Hey, Sophie isn't my responsibility. Yes, we came to the party together, and yes, she's my friend. But she said she'd be fine on her own and that I could leave without a problem, and she was surrounded by all our friends!" you reply, throwing your hands up in the air.

"Well, it seems your friends didn't give a shit that she could have ended up in the hospital!," he sighed, putting Sophie in the car. "Look, I want to take her home. You can stay with your friend if you want."

I see you roll your eyes. “Oh my god, that’s all you’ve got left with, right? What’s going on? are you jealous?”

I look at you in disbelief, "Jealous? me? For God's sake, you should listen to yourself for a moment. You could be my daughter."

"Exactly, I could be your daughter but you always look at me with those eyes and you don't stay looking at me for more than three seconds because you're afraid something will happen!" you say and I open my eyes wide. "Do you think I haven't noticed? You were drooling today when you saw me in this fucking dress. And now you're incriminating me more for being with someone than for not having paid attention to Sophie."

My jaw tightens and I can't look at you for a second longer. "Get in the car, Y/N."

“What?”

"Get in the fucking car. Now." Without another word, you get in the car, and I walk around it, climbing into the driver's seat.

The ride home was completely silent, aside from Sophie's babbling in the back seat. I check to see if she's okay through the rearview mirror; she's so out of it, it makes me even angrier. I shift my gaze to you and watch for a few seconds. You're staring out the window, completely ignoring me. Bad choice.

We arrive at my house and I put the car in the garage. Without saying a word, I get out and grab Sophie from the backseat. You get out slowly and watch me silently as I walk inside. You follow with small steps behind me and we go up the stairs to the bedrooms. I go into Sophie's and gently place her on the bed, turning her so she's on her side, in case she throws up and chokes and we don't have a bad time. When I'm sure she's okay, I turn around and see you waiting in the doorway. You obviously want to say something, but my face doesn't give you the opportunity to do so. I walk to the door, and you take a few steps back while I close it behind me, watching you silently for a few seconds. By my count, it's been more than three. Shit.

"Say it again," I say, approaching you. You take a few steps back and hit the wall.

"Say what again?" you murmur, looking up into my eyes. You look so vulnerable from here.

"You know what" I lean closer to your ear, brushing my lips against the thin skin. "That I'm jealous..."

I can feel you swallow and part your lips. "Are you?"

"Am I? Fuck..." I look down at your dress. "How could you wear that and let others look at you?" I look up into your eyes, which are burning with desire. "You know you've been only mine for a long time..."

My hands move to your legs and I begin to slowly raise them, pulling your dress up until it rests at your waist. You're wearing a red lingerie thong, and that drives me even further crazy.

"Who did you wear that for, huh?" My fingers play with the straps of your underwear. "Did you wear that for him... or for me?" I murmur, looking into your eyes.

You let out a light sigh, I've barely touched you and you're already going crazy "For you... always for you..."

That makes me smile and my fingers slowly slide the thong down your legs, and like a good girl you lift each foot for me so I can pull it all the way off.

"You learn quickly, very well." I take the piece of fabric in my hands and look at it. "Hm, just a few words and you're already wet?" I say, feeling the damp fabric between my fingers. "Fuck, I can't wait for my cock to be inside that pussy..."

I bring the fabric up to my nose and sniff it a little. "But... not so fast. I want to taste you first." That makes you let out a small moan, and I bring my index finger to my lips. "No, no, Sophie's on the other side of that door, she can't find out." I look back down at the thong. "Actually... I had a thought." My gaze returns to yours. "Open your mouth." It's more of a command than a request, and without hesitating for a second, you open your mouth. "Good girl..." I gently fold the piece of fabric and place it in your mouth. This makes you roll your eyes. “You like it? You like tasting yourself, hm?" You nod slightly, and I smile. "Good, be quiet, and Daddy will make you feel like you're on cloud nine, okay? Now it's my turn to taste you."

I bend down until my knees touch the floor and open your legs with my hands, giving me better accessibility and visual of your juices soaking your intimate area. I run a finger through your folds, and it makes you twitch, making me laugh. "So responsive, huh?" Your sounds are muffled by the piece of cloth in your mouth, but it's perfectly clear you're losing your mind. "You want my tongue in your pussy, right? In that tight, wet pussy... I'm sure it's so tight you won't even be able to take me all the way in." You move your hips toward me, letting me know you can't take it anymore. "Okay, okay, you're desperate, I get it... don't worry, sweetheart, I'm going to make you feel so good."

With nothing else to say, I sink my tongue into your folds and you let out a strangled cry. I manage to open your legs further and sink my mouth into you, savoring every inch. I pass over your clit and your legs tremble with pleasure. "Have I found your spot, sweetheart?" My mouth begins to work on it. I circle it with my tongue, sucking and applying pressure while holding you with one of my hands so you don't fall. With the other, I decide to move up the inside of your thighs to your pussy and without warning, I insert a finger, this makes you jump and grab onto my hair, sinking me deeper into you.

My finger moves at a fast pace as you throw your head back, if it weren't for the thong in your mouth I swear you'd be screaming right now. You're holding up well so I decide to slide another finger in, curling them inside you and making you cry out in pleasure. "Can you handle another one, sweetheart?" I murmur, looking slightly up. You look down at me and nod eagerly, so I don't wait another second to slide in a third finger. Fuck you're so tight my only thought now is how are you going to handle my cock.

I feel your walls start to clench around my fingers and decide to pick up the pace. "You're doing so good, hold on a little longer for me." I murmur before sinking my mouth back onto your clit, sucking on it vigorously. I run my tongue gently over it and then pull away, standing up while I still working on you with my hand. I continue to hold your hip with the other as I stand and look down at your eyes. "I wanna see your face when I make you cum, hm? Don't take your eyes off me." Your eyes are watery and full of lust, your moans echoing against the fabric of your thong. "Cum for Daddy, sweetheart."

My thumb joins the work, massaging your clit with good pressure and at a fast pace. You try to tilt your head back again, but I grab your hair with my other hand, making you look at me. "Eyes on me," I command as I slide my last finger in with difficulty, your walls tightening more.

Your legs start to shake, and the fabric can't suppress your sounds in any longer. Your eyes roll back into their sockets, and you can't hold it in anymore. You come hard, cumming into my hand, and I can't stop watching as you sob in pleasure. "Good girl..." I murmur as I continue pumping inside you, prolonging your orgasm as much as I can.

I catch you just as you're about to fall, putting an arm around your waist and holding you against me. I withdraw my fingers from inside you, and you let out a complain, making me laugh. I watch them for a moment, then look back at you, removing your thong from your mouth and replace it with my fingers. You close your mouth around and suck on them, tasting your juices. That makes me let out a little moan and i keep looking down at you, letting you take all the leftovers from my fingers.

"Come on, I'm not done with you yet." I take the fingers out of your mouth and grab your legs, throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you downstairs to the kitchen. I place you on the floor and push you towards the counter, making you lean over so your torso is on it. "You have no idea how many times I've pictured you here, bent over for me." I slide my hands over your ass and give it a squeeze, making you let out a little squeal. "Do you want my cock in your little pussy?" my hips come closer to your core, rubbing myself against you, making me moan. You nod quickly and I let out a small sigh. "The cat got your tongue, sweetheart? Words, I want words."

"Yes, please fuck me..." you murmur with your cheek on the counter, looking up at me with little eyes.

"Oh baby, I'm going to fuck you so good you won't even remember your name. I'm going to make you forget every fucking man who's ever been inside you, and your only memories will be of me..." my hands part your legs further, giving me a clear view of your pussy. My hard cock is straining against my pants, aching to be inside of you. I unbutton my pants and pull them and my boxers down to my feet. My cock is already at full strength and ready for action. I grab it with my hand while I continue to grab your ass with the other. Your juices run down your legs and it's the most beautiful scene I've ever seen in my life. "I don't want you to think about anyone else, just me... Who do you belong to, sweetheart?"

I run the tip through your folds and you let out a moan "To you... I belong to you... please..." you beg.

"Only I can fuck you, right?" I say, positioning the tip right at your entrance.

"Yes, only you, you're the only one for me, please Mr. Styles." you beg again and I smile.

"No, no, baby. What did I tell you to call me?" My hand squeezes your ass again and you jump a little.

"Harry... Harry—please," you moan, and I bite my lip at the sound of you. I knew I'd love the moment your lips moaned my name. I might even come just hearing you.

"Good girl… you sound so hot when you moan my name." Without warning, I thrust into you in one swift thrust, and you cry out, tears streaming down your cheeks. I raise my free hand to your mouth, covering it. "Remember Sophie's home... moan into my hand."

I begin to slowly move in and out of you, giving your pussy time to adjust to my length. You're so tight I'm afraid you might break at any moment, but you feel so good... fuck, I didn't even remember what this was like.

I increase the pace as our moans intertwine. The hand I had on your ass moves up inside your dress and I grab your breast, pinching your nipple with my fingers. My hand muffles your moans, and for a moment I don't care if anyone can hear us, so I withdraw it, letting you moan freely.

On top of that, you're the kind who likes to scream…

"You feel so good... so tight, so hot, and so wet, fuck, sweetheart, I could get used to this." I say between moans while I fuck you against the counter.

I move further in, trying to get you to take my full length. You let out another moan and grab onto the counter. "That's it, baby, take all of me, you're doing so well."

I throw my head back as I manage to fit my entire length inside you. I let out a sigh, giving myself a few seconds to compose myself, and then I continue with a measured rhythm.

I start to increase the pace again, my thrusts getting harder and faster, driving you to your edge. Your moans are the most beautiful thing I've ever heard, and I need more. One of my hands is still on your breast, the other gripping you right where I want it. The sound of our bodies colliding can be heard throughout the kitchen, echoing off the walls. If Sophie wakes up now, we're dead.

"We shouldn't do this..." you moan and I laugh a little.

I lean down close to your ear and whisper, "Then ask me to stop." With this I give another harder thrust and you moan louder, gripping the counter tighter "That’s what I thought...”

I start to feel your walls tighten around me again and your moans start to get louder and louder. "You're so loud... too loud. But I like it, I want to hear you scream for me. Tell me how much you like it, sweetheart. Tell me no one has ever made you feel like this."

"No one... you're the only one." Your breathing is ragged, you gasp for air with every thrust I give you.

“That’s it, sweetheart, take my cock in that little pussy of yours.” The hand holding you in place grabs your hair and pulls it back as I increase my pace. I lean in slightly to kiss your neck, while my other hand continues to pinch your nipple.

You cry out in pleasure as I continue to move inside you, your walls squeezing my entire cock. "Are you close?" I whisper in your ear, and you nod slightly. "Then come for me, sweetheart. Soak my cock with your juice."

Your body tenses at my words, and your back arches with pleasure. Your legs tremble, but I manage to grip your hips with both hands to keep you from falling. You remain clutching the counter as you come for the second time, your juices running quickly down your legs, soaking my cock. You let out a loud moan and collapse onto the counter. I continue moving inside you, prolonging your ecstasy a little longer.

"Fuck—" A few seconds later, I notice I'm coming too, and I withdraw my cock from inside your pussy. I grab it with my right hand and pump it for a few more seconds, finally reaching orgasm and cumming on your back. "Damn."

I lean against you, breathing fast, trying to return to normal. I move my hand up to your face and brush back some strands of hair that are covering your eyes. "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

You just laugh, making me smile. Now is when I should feel bad, but quite the opposite. I've felt so fucking good that I want to do it again and again, I want to feel you again.

"Come on, let's see what you can do with your mouth besides scream..." I say, slapping you on the ass and making you stand up. This isn't even close to over yet.

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If you liked it, you can leave me a like and reblog it so it reaches more people. Thanks!🩷

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[jeonkaijoon]

Benefits of the doubt - YJW

pairing: yang jungwon x f!reader

wc: 5.4k

genre: oneshot, smut, slice of life(?)

tags: softdom!jungwon, dry humping, petnames (baby/doll), roomates to fuckbuddies (i guess), unprotected sex (don't do it!!), p in v, big ass amount of makeout, praise kink, fingering, explicit language ofc honestly no more i think? they simply fuck after crushing on eachother for ages...

AUTHORS NOTE: well i haven't wrote in two years i was scared i had lost my spark but here we are,,, little shout out to my friend yuni for giving me the starting point to write this! it took me a whole month between finals and everything… i’m rusty sorry- anyway hope you like it :3 also not fully proofread i hope there aren't too many errors but lmk!!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

When you were deep in your library study session, nothing could distract you. Barely a tornado warning had budged you from your seat last time, but honestly your life was very much more important than a good grade in macroeconomics.

But actually, something that budged you existed. And also had a name.

“So,” a familiar voice diverted you from your study session. “Any plans for tonight?” 

The name was Jungwon.

You have been flatmates for years, splitting rent on the apartment you rented for college, but barely see each other during the week, given the different lessons and work schedule you both have.

You shook your head, still keeping your gaze on the words in front of you. After 4 hours of reviewing, they had very much stopped making sense a while ago but you weren’t the one to give up.  

“Nope, the girls are either out with their boyfriends or studying, so i'm left with you and books to read. You got something?” You asked, finally raising your head and taking his sight in.

He had his usual jersey on, the one from the taekwondo college club he was part of. Some baggy jeans and his gym shoes are still on. He was sweaty and just finished practice, strands of hair clinging on his forehead and cheeks slightly flushed. You gulped and bit the inside of your cheek. He looked incredibly good. And to think you had seen him get through the door like this plenty of times.

“Alright. Night In? The party got cancelled and I have no will to go clubbing.” he suggested

“S-sure” you stuttered, but he looked like he didn't notice.

“See you later then, I’m going home” He waved at you and went.

As mentioned before, because of his practice, both of you’s uni lessons and work, you barely saw each other in the living room you shared.

But on the weekend, if either of you had plans, you'd just spend time together. It started the first year because you both wanted to know each other better, but became some sort of tradition overtime.. Just as friends, given that you would have to live together for about 4 years if nothing changed. 

Your third year had just started, and you knew Jungwon better than most of his friends could say they did. It came naturally, living together and spending the whole weekend together. 

Naturally too, you might have caught feelings for him. 

But nothing ever happened between the two of you.

He’s brought girls to your apartment at times, hooking up and kicking them out in the morning, keeping it quiet if he knew you were in your room studying late. 

You had started catching feelings during the second year, cause you had found out enough about him at that point and he was just an amazing person. He was simple and kind, liked a ton of different things that you liked too, always smelled nice, always smiled and kept up with your sad moments after you got a bad grade or a date went bad.

You defined him as some sort of best friend, but it was obvious that there was more from you. Sad to say, you were sure he wouldn't feel the same.

However over the summer, something had changed. 

He texted you more than a couple times to catch up, and since the start of the semester he not once has mentioned a girl to you.

Overall he felt different, he was weirdly not interested in parties that much anymore and just kept up with taekwondo, he's been studying till late with you and hasn't hung out with his friends on weekends in about a month, saying he was either too tired or wanted yet another night in with you cause you were home alone.

This “tradition” of yours consisted in ordering takeout and talking about ups and downs you had this week, lessons you skipped cause finals were still far, girls hitting on him and him laughing about how you never got hit on no one hitting on you (not that you didn't want to be hit on, but the one you wanted to be hit on by was right in front of you and he seemed not to notice your crush on him, EVER.) 

Lastly, try to watch a movie, just to end up snoring on each other 10 minutes in because of how tired you've been the whole week. 

But again, nothing ever happened between the two of you. Although you could feel that something had sparked up. After all, the way he looked at you had somehow shifted. 

Slightly, yes. But it did and you were sure. 

Despite that, you didn't want to get your hopes up.

You finished studying and headed home, thinking about what you wanted to eat tonight. When you entered the door, you heard the shower in Jungwon’s room still going. You placed your bag on the counter and read a post-it note. 

“I already called takeout, we are eating korean tonight, whether you like it or nah :)” 

You smiled. 

You loved it when he decided what to eat because he usually had the best taste. The image of him writing you that note got a chuckle out of you.

Absent-mindedly, you went towards your room to change into some home clothing, scrambling in your closet just to put on an oversized shirt without your bra, which you took off with a sigh of relief.

Lastly a pair of shorts, again, pretty big on you considering how short you were compared to him: not much, but enough for him to constantly tease you about it.

You looked at yourself and called it an outfit. It didn't even dawn on you that those clothes were probably Jungwon’s and got mixed in a quick unload of laundry and ended up in your drawers.

You happily walked towards the living room, knowing your week was finally over and you could rest.

Just then, the outline of Jungwon’s body displayed itself in front of you, him leaning upright on the counter and munching on an apple while lazily scrolling on his phone. 

Your body froze and took a look at him. Or maybe two, given that you ended up staring from far away.

The sight that unraveled in front of you was ethereal. 

His hair was damp, drops of water descending from them and falling on his collarbone, your eyes inadvertently followed one of them dripping on the floor and his chest. 

His chest was sculpted, abs toned and veins prominent towards his v-line.

God only knew the amount of times you had prayed to see him like this.

Luckily for you or maybe him (perhaps), he was not fully naked, but had joggers on, the band of his boxer briefs still peeking out.

You had been looking at him for a good 2 minutes, and it took you a little while to realize he had obviously noticed you almost drooling in his face. 

He moved in your direction while stifling a laugh and waved a hand in front of your face.

“Are you ok? You look like you’ve seen a ghost…” He eyed you from head to toe grinning sarcastically. He tilted his head slightly and took another look at you.

“Also, are you wearing my shirt? It looks just like the one I lost last week…” He said, and walked past you towards his bedroom like nothing had happened.

You didn't even reply. You couldn't, to be honest. You didn't have the words in you to do that. 

So you just sat on the couch and turned the tv on.

You hadn't seen it, but he had smirked amusedly on the way to his room to put on another shirt.

Moreover, you didn't know he was well aware of this “little” but quite obvious crush you had on him: you were not the best at hiding things, often forgetting them around the house and it became his duty to bring them back to you in your room. Additionally, he knew your cycle calendar today signalled ovulation. 

How?

You had left open your agenda on the coffee table and he checked what your lessons were, out of curiosity. 

You sometimes appointed your period or ovulation there even though you had apps, but it purely was just to be attentive of your body and remember to buy tampons.

When what had happened finally snapped you out of your trance, you felt your cheeks flushed red. It had been the most embarrassing moment so far with him.

You had no intention of looking at him like he was the takeout meal you were about to eat, but it came naturally when he looked like that. 

For him it was apparently all normal, he roamed around the house like this all of the time probably, but for you? Not really. 

You either hadn't paid attention to him, or you've been blind.

Jungwon came back out of his room. A shirt finally (or unfortunately, you didn't know how to put it) had been worn to cover his chest.

When take out arrived, you rushed to the door even before he could say “A”.

You ate in absolute silence.

Your eyes were fixed on the movie he had chosen for this week.

Lalaland. As if you hadn't seen it a hundred times already.

He glanced at you a couple times, you were slurping on your soy sauce soaked japchae and didn't dare spare him a gaze.

That's when it kicked in his brain.

His plan had already partially succeeded. 

Alas, he still wanted to see how much further he could push you before you would break for him.

“How was your week?” he faux innocently asked.

“Good” you answered, eyes still glued to the screen. Along with the food, a beer came to help the clear distress you had on your body.

There was a palpable silence for a long time, but Jungwon obviously broke it.

He couldn't hide the laugh that came out of his throat when he saw your cheek swollen with food.

You tried to ignore him until you finished your bowl, but eventually turned your head and frowned. 

You put your fish down on the coffee table, crossed your arms and looked at him still chewing.

“What’s so funny?” You inquired, tired of hearing him laughing at you.

“You are,” he replied smiling, taking the last bite of his tteokbokki. You pursed your lips, narrowed your eyes in a thin line and tilted your head in his direction.

“How so, Jungwon?” You asked, seriously toned.

“It’s funny how you act around me. Thinking I don’t see through you or something.” He sneered.

You straightened up. What in the world did he mean with that?

He continued: “I’ve known you long enough to know how you act when something bothers you, something makes you happy, something makes you excited.” You chew the inside of your cheek.

He slightly moved towards you.

“I know how forgetful you are. How many clothes of mine are in your drawer even. How you think I didn't notice all the times you sneaked in my room to steal a shirt to wear.” He placed two fingers on your thigh and made them “walk” over your leg, all the way up to your shoulder.

“I know how much you like it when I am the one deciding what to eat because you don’t like making decisions.” Oh great. He could assume one more thing.

“I know full well how you know this movie by heart but you would watch it all over again with me. Oh and I also noticed you clenched your thighs when the actors kissed.” Nice. You were one second away to fuse yourself with the couch out of shame. 

Not to mention how this thing was singlehandedly making your panties wet like a waterfall. Feeling him so close to you? You thought you were used to it at this point. But clearly this was not the normal night you were expecting to spend with him.

“Also, I know how worked up I am making you right this moment and most importantly: I know you like me.” A side of his mouth raised in a grin.

You swallowed. You surely weren't good at hiding things but besides today’s incident of staring, you thought you were doing good enough.

Apparently not.

You looked at him, trying to mumble something coherent to make up an excuse, but you just weren't able to.. Your face was burning, your eyes couldn't stay still on something, they were only looking flickering between his eyes and his lips.

“Cat got your tongue as I revealed your little secret?” He smiled, but he looked sincere.

“Jungwon-” he licked his lips before speaking, and it took your words out of his mouth.

You realized he was actually being sincere by the next sentence that came out of his mouth. 

“You think I havent started developing something for you in the three years that I’ve known you? Everytime you text me to ask for groceries preferences and I’m around the boys, Sunghoon teases me like a madman.” You giggle along with him at this confession. It’s cute to think of him like a loverboy.

“There’s no use in denying it now, is there?” You lowered your head slightly, suddenly appreciating how nice your floor was, not daring to look at him anymore.

On one hand, you feel almost defeated. But if it really is mutual, what was the reason for lying?

“Nope,” He used his pointer finger to gently lift your chin up. “But should we do something about it? Or are we gonna ignore how we just revealed to each other our feelings and call it a night, just to reciprocally avoid us out of embarrassment tomorrow?” He kept looking at you.

You know what? Fuck it. That was your quickest thought process ever. You grabbed him by the collar of the shirt and crushed your lips onto his. 

Either he would reciprocate you, or push you away and tell you you were out of your mind. You tested the waters. And the waters came clear. He melted into your boldness, intertwining his lips with yours. It was so slow and so yearning. 

With the movie long forgotten in the background, his hands roamed your body, cupping your jaw first and then resting on your hips. It felt like the world around you had shattered to pieces. The way his lips synchronized with yours effortlessly was practically like a sign. You couldn’t stop kissing him. It felt natural to finally have him on you and the best part? He was thinking the same.

He licked your lips with his tongue, asking for permission to explore it. You gave in and he did what he wanted, deepening the kiss even more than you thought he could.

He manhandled your hips and brought you to straddle him with so much ease you felt like you were a feather. And you were sooo waiting for him to do that.

One of his hands rested against your nape, stroking caressing it with his thumb and sending shivers down your spine. The other one instead reached for your hair, trying to make you match the movement of his head. And again, it came so naturally.

Jungwon’s breath was shortened and detached from you, a little string of saliva still connecting your mouths. Panting, he caressed your cheek with his thumb in slow strokes.

“Fuck baby, If i knew you kissed this nicely i wouldn’t have held my selfback all this time.” he murmured, breathless.

The pet name made your core throb. “So you want to kiss me again?” you bit your lower lip, hesitating almost.

“Shouldn’t even be a question,” he said, chest raising and lowering so quickly.

And he restarted it all, connecting your lips together once again.

In the meantime, an ache between your legs had risen.

How he had you positioned was just the perfect point to get some friction. 

You could feel the bulge growing in his boxers and he was getting harder by the second, almost like he was waiting for you to rock your hips on him, without even realizing it.

He moaned in your mouth while you were grinding yourself on his crotch. He just let you.

The sounds he emitted were making your head spin in the kiss.

Your clit was perfectly centered over the tip of his shaft somehow and…God. 

It felt otherworldly. You moved your hips all back and forth, circular, pushing down on him, even still clothed. You had surely been touch deprived lately because you haven't hooked up in a while, your last boyfriend had broken up with you two years ago now, so you didn't have much to get down on other than your vibrator and thoughts of fucking your roommate, who usually was in his bedroom with a girl.

Let’s just say he was not that silent.

Ever. 

Even when he was alone at home, or thought he was, in the shower, in his bedroom watching porn… you could hear him easily with doors closed. You wondered if he knew he was loud, or maybe your hearing was just peak.

Nonetheless, having him underneath you this way felt just like a whole new experience.

Whines coming out of your throat just to get swallowed by his own and vice versa, and you noticed how, every once in a while, as you were working to reach your high, he thrusted up between your legs trying to pleasure himself. 

You kept kissing, your hands were basically glued to his nape, while your hair was a mess because he couldn't stop touching them. 

Your panties were utterly soaked, they had even leaked on his joggers. He had started groping your ass at one point, moving you against him quicker and harder.

You had been kissing so much that although you had no more breath, you hardly could stop.

But just then you had to unsay what you just said.

He looked absolutely spent, his cheeks were of a strawberry color, his lips swollen and shiny and you could barely feel yours.

“F-fuck, wait” he muttered suddenly, stopping the movement of your hips with his free hand. “What?” You asked, completely out of breath. 

“I’m really trying to be the gentleman here but you are making me want to take you on this damn couch, baby.” You lowered your head in embarrassment and he tucked a strand of hair behind your hair. 

“You’ve been grinding me so nicely until now, you want me bad don't you?” He sneaked a hand down your shorts to feel the pool that had ruined your panties at this point.

As he touched you, his mouth went O. “Panties damp already, could've told me I got you this wet, I would have helped you earlier…”

“I was close” you spit.

“Oh well then.” he smirked. He moved you just enough to make you straddle only one of his legs and motioned you to continue.

“Cum on my thigh. And I want you to soak me good.” You immediately rubbed your clit on him as hard as you could.

The friction your heat was searching for was being relieved. 

Your arms were around his neck, one of his hands sneaked under your shirt while he was watching you. He wanted to see your tits too badly, but for now he was only gonna imagine. Or partially.

He squeezed your flesh in his grip, grazing his thumb on your nipple, already so sensitive.

You threw your head back and moaned, about to break.

He had started palming himself through his joggers, he was so hard it almost hurt.

Your whines were like music, feeding his hunger.

You had been rubbing quicker and quicker, and along with his hands on your boobs, he elongated his neck just enough to kiss you behind your ear.

“Come for me baby” was all it took. 

Your body stilled, the knot that had been holding your stomach hostage finally snapped and you let out such a guttural sound Jungwon had to put a hand on your mouth to avoid a noise complaint from the neighbors in the morning, so you bit so hard it bled.

Everything you had been holding in just exited out of you, irremediably wetting the crotch area of your shorts and his joggers. It felt sticky and so wet it was almost uncomfortable, but you would've thought about that later. 

You felt every part of you seized from the orgasm, trembling with the aftershock and your limbs falling boneless against Jungwon’s body, who was just there ready to catch you. 

“Good job, baby” he said, caressing the end of your back, waiting for you to catch your breath.

Just resting on his chest was nice, but you noticed how he had now lowered his pants and his dick was painfully twitching inside of his boxers, a tiny wet patch on them appearing where his tip was located.

No more dry humping, you needed him inside.

You didn't think twice before reaching out for it and taking his boxers down to reveal it. He wasn't huge, but surely if he hadn't prepped you enough it was going to hurt regardless. You wrapped your fingers around it and started slowly stroking it, hearing him hiss. 

“Oh? Eager to touch me just after I made you cum?”

“Gotta return the favor.” You tilted your head upwards, just enough to peck his lips.

He shifted just enough to get your mouths on the same level, and kissed you while you moved your hand up and down his dick.

Had he fallen for his own trap? Maybe. But you looked too good to be left with blue balls again.

“F-fuck how come are you making me even harder right now” He whispered, making a shiver run down your body.

He started to thrust up in your hand pretty quickly, and when you noticed you tried to lower your head to take him into your mouth, but just then, he stopped you.

“I want to taste you too, but I want to get inside that pussy so badly right now or I might go crazy.”

With the swiftest movement ever he picked you up like a potato sack and brought you to his bedroom, and before you could reply to anything he had already laid you on his bed, taken your bottoms down and was 2 knuckles deep inside of you. He was fingering you at a slow pace, just to make you more wet and ready for him, while leaving trails of kisses from your ears down to your belly button and up again. 

You grabbed his face and crashed your lips together, suppressing the moans he was making you fall out of your throat. His fingers never stopped moving, his thumb reaching for your clit and rubbing it just right.

You tugged on his shirt, and he took it off in one move, taking his finger out and getting them back in as soon as the sleeve was off of him.

Meanwhile you took your own off and exposed your chest to him.

It didn't feel awkward, if anything it felt on the contrary. As soon as you freed your tits he was the one staring this time, like the sight had some kind of spell on him. Normally, you would've thought “ugh,men.” with a disgusted look on your face, but Jungwon looked amazed. 

"You looked so hot in my clothes, you should borrow them more ofter, doll." He kissed you again without a warning and then descended to your jaw, whispering. “I just know you feel amazing, she’s swallowing my fingers for how tight she is.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” You bit your lower lip.

“Oh, absolutely. And those tits deserve some compliments too.” he lowered his mouth on your chest without ever breaking eye contact.

He wrapped his mouth around one of your nipples and took the other one between the fingers of his free hand. He was moving like a starved man.

You were asking yourself if you were about to reach heaven. He did everything go smoothly.

He licked, kissed, sucked, twirled, bit your nipple. Everything he could to make you feel good.

Like you deserved a prize. 

For what? You didn’t know. But did that really matter?

As you moaned, he detached from you nipple and kissed your neck, nibbling on your earlobe too.

“Cumming for me again, baby?” You nodded, biting your lip to suppress the hideous sounds rising from inside your throat.

You should’ve stayed silent, cause he took his finger out and took off the last piece of clothing that restrained him. Your eyes followed the movement of his hands as he was discarding his boxers, and god, he was even thicker than what you thought.

“Not before I have my cock in you” he tilted his head with a mischievous smile. He then licked his fingers, still soaked in your scent and glistening with your slick.

He spread your legs and gave one kitten lick to your pussy. Only one, as if he hadn't just you tasted his own fingers.

“As nice as I always thought you would be,” he said smirking, moving on top of you.

“Jungwon” You whined. All this teasing was making you crazy.

“Mh?” He fisted his cock in his hand, caressing your side with the other.

“Please” you wailed.

“Please what baby? Be clear with your words.” His eyes were dark with desire, roaming all over your body, praising you in his mind.

You looked like a goddess normally, even with your hair tangled in a makeshift bun, usually held on with a pencil because of how usually you lost hair ties around the house. But underneath him? It was even better than he had ever imagined. He surely was gonna bust a nut to this image, as it was already engraved in his brain.

Hestared into your eyes, moving his shaft up and down your folds, gathering wetness and spreading it on his tip. He felt so close yet so far, almost putting it in just to retract the moment you whined.

“Jungwon, please fuck me” You blurted out.

“What was that?” he asked again, teasingly. His smile was cocky. But in reality, he was about to lose his composure.

You licked your lips, almost embarrassed. 

You reached for his head and brought it down until his forehead touched yours.

“I said fuck me, Wonie.” you whispered.

He smirked, almost looking like his ears perked up. “With pleasure”

And with no further warning, he eased himself into you in one swift motion.

You moaned in unison when he let your walls engulf his length. 

You were wet enough, yes, but he surely was sized.

“See? I was right. Swallowing me like the good girl you are.” He stilled his hips, to let you get accustomed a little. But to say it felt divine to have you around him was an understatement. He kept caressing you slowly, trying to be the gentleman and reduce the tension in the room, so sharp you could cut it with a knife. 

“Shit, you feel so tight…how long have you starved her?” He asked, chuckling and leaving pecks on your nose to make you less nervous and stop clenching so hard around him.

“A while,” you replied, trying to keep your eyes open.

You tried to move your head to the side to not look at him in embarrassment, but he noticed immediately and grabbed your chin with his hand, bringing back eye contact.

“Nuh uh baby, you look at me when I'm inside you, nowhere else.”

Not even sure why, but you clenched again and he gulped.

And so he bottomed out, just for you to reply with another moan. 

And that was it, he knew you were more than eager to take him.

He slid back in, drawing a breath out of you. And kept going, slowly building up a steady pace.

How his hips were slapping against your pelvis, his mouth searching yours, trails of saliva being left around while sucked blue marks on your neck to avoid making sounds, but he knew he wouldn't last much shutting up.

In fact, you suddenly brought your legs to wrap around his hips and this new position made him go even deeper, thrusting so hard you felt his dick actually twitch inside you. 

“Fuck, you’re taking me so good.” he tried to muffle a moan by biting his lips till it bled, but you still heard him loud and clear.

“Are you trying to keep sounds from me now? Don't act all shy when you're balls deep inside of me…” you teased. And maybe he secretly wanted you to say that.

“You’re driving me nuts, baby,” he said, turning his head from the crook of your neck just to see you better.

“Your moans drive me nuts, Wonie. You were so loud when you came alone in your bedroom yesterday, I heard you loud and clear.”

You had heard him moan all this time and said nothing. What if you got off on his moans like he did? He had dreamed of you for so long, and now that he had you, he wasn’t sure he was going to hold on to it as a “dream” anymore. His dick twitched again at the thought. Fucking you raw. Cumming inside. Seeing it spill out of you. Seeing you sprawled on his bed. Oh, you were hot. And he surely was not gonna let it be a one time thing.

“This pussy feels like she was made to fit me- fuck.” His thrust had become harder, bottoming out everytime. He was hitting that spot inside of you that made your vision go white. 

“Jungwon- Fuck! Right there” You moaned. You felt a familiar knot in your stomach starting to beg you to be freed. 

“Weren’t we supposed to keep it quiet so as not to get complaints from the neighbors tomorrow?” you asked.

“You used the right past tense, were. But now that I had a taste of you, nothing's gonna stop me from making you scream my name out everytime you come for me.” Jungwon replied, sitting up and looking directly where you two were connected. 

You squealed as he circled your already sensitive clit, bringing you just on the edge once again.

“Mhhh- Close, Wonie” you murmured. 

“I’m not stopping you this time, let go for me doll, c’mon.” He replied, tone sweet but the sense of neediness was very much still there.

He laced his mouth on one of your very perked up nipples, and just how he licked it made your body shut down.

One of the loudest noises you ever made escaped your mouth. 

He could see how your legs had started to tremble, back arching off the bed, breath ragged and whimpering loudly. You really were bringing him to his own peak without even touching him.

His thrust still didn't stop. If anything, he was gladly fucking you through your orgasm, making your head spin even harder.

“Such a good girl for me” he mumbled, kissing your neck. 

“Your cunt’s milking me… won’t last much longer, baby” 

His hips were frantically moving inside you, and he knew he was near.

He whined. “W-where?”

You kissed him for a moment and whispered in his ear. “Inside”

His abs almost hurt from how he was holding back. “You want all of it baby, don’t you?”

“Mh-mh” you nodded. “Please”

“Say it” he was gritting his teeth. 

“Won…” You pleaded, again. He was making you beg like it was a prayer.

“I didn’t hear you say it baby” he looked at you, his eyes darkening and his thrusts quickening.

“Fill me up, please Jungwon. I want all of it.” Your eyes closing, unable to handle how good he was making you feel.

As soon as the words left your mouth, a gasp escaped it as well. You felt him push himself to the tilt as his movement halted almost completely while hot ropes of cum coated your insides. 

The silence of that moment was deep. 

It felt like everything kept hidden for years had finally been unleashed.

You looked at eachother. 

Breathless. Spent. Sweaty. 

Jungwon’s hair was clinging to his forehead, his mouth slightly agape. He eased himself out of you, watching his release gush out of your hole slowly.

He kissed you sweetly, smiling against your mouth, just to collapse next to you right after.

“You know we’re not just roommates anymore, right?”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

please don't be a silent reader, i really appreciate feedbacks :3

[hellfire--cult]

Rockstar!Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

wc: 10k

+18 enemies to lovers, rockstar!steve, reader is a bit mean, a bit of fluff, a sprinkle of angst, drinking, smut, p in v (protected), oral (f receiving), fingering, lots of sexual tension, elevator kissing ftw, kinda hate fucking

summary: You started a 'hate' blog out of your irritation towards a certain rockstar, criticizing everything he got out, giving your personal opinion on how it could be better, not thinking that would land you a spot in his actual PR team. He hated you were always right, you hated he was cocky... or, that's what you both thought.

A/N: Joe Keery doing a tour altered my brain chemistry, so here you guys go. Thank you @andvys for proofreading this and telling me if it made sense LMAO I barely proofread this myself, so yeah. I also wrote this all in a single night, so don't mind it if it's... too stupid.

please reblog, don't be lazy.

YOUR BIGGEST FAN HATER

“It’s fucking horse shit, Steve.”

You let go of the talking button from the mixer, and you heard Steve groan from inside the recording booth. Eddie was holding back a laugh from the couch as Joyce snickered on your side. You saw how Steve raised his arms in defeat, staring at you with eyes that were filled with anger.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” You leaned over to press the button again, speaking into the mic.

“I know this isn’t what you want to play, and I know this isn’t what your fans want. Stop trying to be mainstream.” You let go of the button again and inhaled deeply, when you saw him angrily putting the guitar away on its stand, and Joyce sighed heavily as Steve opened the door of the booth, walking towards you.

“We’ve been working on this song for a month already, I tried every fucking version of it, and you are still not happy.” 

“I’m in your PR team. I know what will look and sound best for you.” Your reply was cold, and it made Eddie whistle from the couch.

“Let’s not get into an argument today–” But he got cut off by Steve, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Too fucking late, stay out of it Munson.” Eddie sighed, and you crossed your arms over your chest, facing your client. “What if you are cutting my wings off, huh!? Maybe this is the music I want to make, and you are not letting me.”

“Oh no, you are completely free to do whatever you want. But I studied you, Steve, and punk is not your style, nor what you really want to do. Redo it.” Your voice was sharp as you stared into those hazel orbs of his. Joyce stood behind you, and you were either the best decision ever or the worst.

Because you were Steve’s number one critic. Number one hater.

It started as a joke months ago. You were bored, sitting in your bed while watching TikToks, where you slowly but surely started getting angrier and angrier because every two videos you scrolled, Steve Harrington’s song was used. Over. And over. And over. And it wouldn’t fucking stop.

So you decided to Google the bastard. He filled your TikTok, Instagram, car radio, and weekly top song playlists. His song stayed for weeks and weeks, and you were sick of him. When you looked at his photoshoots, you saw the attraction—you really did… until you saw red carpet looks… listened to his album, and—he was fucking overrated. 

His songs had different vibes, some lyrics didn’t make sense or didn’t match the tunes, then in the red carpet he was dressed horribly sometimes, and then at concerts he didn’t know how to properly interact with fans, and also how to fucking dress. Who the hell wears a basketball getup singing a ballad?

He almost looked like he didn’t have a PR team at all to advise him.

But you were pissed. It was going to be a small joke. A small blog post giving a detailed critique of his outfit on the red carpet. You were anonymous, so you weren’t worried about that part, but you were surprised when people started agreeing with you, as well as those crazed fans you hated who tried defending his every move. He could have made a lady trip on purpose, and the fans would defend him and say he has a condition that makes his body spasm and do things against his will.

For some reason, seeing people agreeing with you filled you with relief. You got the anger out. Only for it to come back the next day when your little cousin would not stop playing the damn fucking song at a family gathering. You watched an interview of his that night, the latest one he had. You were surprised he was quite charming, but there was still a tone in his voice that made your insides fire up with rage.

And then it was post after post after post. You had a following; some agreed completely with you, some found your content funny, and some followed you only to try to tear you down every time you posted. You didn’t care. You were right in what you were saying, in every little detail you pointed out. You did, though, delete all harsh insults against him. You disliked Steve Harrington but not to the point of being evil and a piece of shit about it.

He had his good points too, which you couldn’t deny. He was pretty, very much so. He had a good voice. He had good hair. He was very nice to people in interviews, and whenever he met fans outside. Still, the dislike won over those points each time he did something unnerving or his only two hit songs played over the most random shit. Like your elevator in your apartment.

You were venting out your anger towards this guy with no other thought than to relieve yourself from how annoying everything felt, only for that venting to be read by someone. The star himself.

Now Steve first laughed it off. He was a bit taken aback by people agreeing on some of the stuff you said, but he rolled his eyes each time, saying you didn’t know what you were talking about. He showed the blog to Eddie, and unbeknownst to Steve, Eddie showed it to Joyce, his manager. Without Steve’s knowledge, Joyce started taking some of your suggestions at hand, be it for his clothes, his getup, his topics of conversation in interviews or podcasts, and you nailed it each time.

His views went up. His following went up. His hashtags trended each time, unlike before. You were good, really good. And Joyce didn’t want you to go unpaid for it.

Two months have passed since Joyce contacted you. At first you thought it was fake, a bullshit account or them trying to dox you, only to find a legitimate contract, and you were in desperate need for cash. This paid well. Very well. The plus? You got to tour around the country and see many states, all paid for.

Steve had tried to fire you on the spot when he met you, but Joyce forbade it. You were under her agency’s contract, not Steve’s. He could complain, but unless you did a bad job, there was no need to fire you. And you hadn’t done a bad job. It was excellent each time. Thanks to you, Steve had risen in popularity as one of the hottest men of the day. You had advised him to be more carefree in interviews and give people a chance to make memes out of him, out of his faces, and out of his gestures.

He didn’t understand it at first until he started seeing a cropped part of an interview of his being used as a reaction. The comments were from ‘Who is this?’ ‘Oh, he is cute!’ ‘Damn he fine.’ He didn’t want to admit it. He wasn’t going to admit you were right. 

But now with his music, he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of being right. Not with the one thing he wanted to do since forever, even when he was still following Daddy’s command. You didn’t know anything about him, so what could you know about his music? 

“You are fucking insufferable, I have promised my fans I would give them a sneak peek of my new song weeks ago, and I have till tomorrow!” His next concert was in Philadelphia. He suggested premiering a song he had been working on for a while, and you were skeptical. You started asking him for demos, and each time, you were never happy. 

“Then you won’t sing it!” Your voice was sharp as you delivered the order. Your body was tense, sweat pooling at the tips of your fingers, the more you stared at the man before you. There was fire in the room, that is something you could feel on your skin right now. 

“I will sing it! I promised that–”

“You are not even sure of your own song, so why sing it? People will not like it if you do not like it.” Steve’s jaw fell at your words, the anger rising up in him more and more. He couldn’t fucking stand you. He couldn’t fucking stand you were good at your work. He couldn’t fucking stand that you couldn’t stand him either.

“And what do you know what is in my mind?” He spat back, and Joyce finally got in between, separating the two of you. You hadn’t noticed just how close you stepped towards him. How his breath fanned over your face. Only when the warmth of it was gone from your nose did you realize the closeness. 

“Okay, let’s settle. Steve, I think she is right. You are not even sure of this song…” Joyce tried to explain calmly, unlike you did to him. You could see Steve’s vein popping on the side of his neck as he clenched his jaw. Eddie cleared his throat as he got up from the couch, putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Let’s go cool off, big boy.” Eddie winked your way, always telling you he would somehow make the waters grow calm again. You wondered if that was going to be the case this time. Steve’s eyes never left your face, and yours never left his. 

Finally, he turned around without saying anything else and left the room. Eddie turned to look at Joyce with a wince, only for her to wave at him as thanks. Once the door closed, she turned to you, crossing her arms over her chest. You frowned, confused, shrugging your shoulders in question.

“What?”

“A little more tact, next time?” You rolled your eyes at her request, shaking your head.

“Tact? Tact is what led him to make all the mistakes he did before. No one was telling him what was right and what looked awful.” Joyce sighed, rubbing her temple in annoyance. 

“You two…” 

“Us two, what?” And it seemed as if Joyce bit her tongue. She shook her head to dismiss what she was about to say.

“Let’s hope tomorrow he doesn’t… do something reckless.”

You doubted it.

It sucked.

People didn’t like it.

Just like you said.

Just like you had fucking said. 

He had tried the version of the song he liked best, and people clapped at the end of it, but it wasn’t massive cheering. He went against your order of not singing the song, but he had convinced himself he liked it, and honestly, he couldn’t even blame it entirely on the people. He hated every single version he made of this song.

The lyrics looked good, but the tune of it was what sucked. It didn’t fit. The lyrics didn’t fit any of those beats or genres he played around with. He really wanted this song, but he hated every version he wrote. What was his own version? He thought he had himself figured out, but now? Now it was all a blur.

It was 2 am, and he went down to the hotel bar for a drink because he needed a distraction from looking at his phone and read what people had to say. He sat down at a booth, drinking his negroni, and pulled out his notebook for his songs. He flipped through the pages and found the lyrics of this particular song, and he frowned as he remembered the lack of enthusiasm from the crowd. 

He put on his reading glasses and he was scanning it, over and over again, so focused he missed the part where you had sat down in front of him with a beer in hand.

“Told you.”

His head snapped up to look at you. There was no smirk, no smug grin, no ego being shown. You were being professional, but he still hated it. He hated you for being right. For having been the reason his career had been going up instead of plummeting to the ground. 

“No need for those remarks right now.”

You studied his face. It was one of those you particularly enjoyed. When he looked concentrated, and that little piece of hair fell on the side of his face, over those glasses, that's when you thought he looked best. Your breathing hitched at the intrusive thought, one of the many you had about the man in front of you, and even more since you started working with him. 

“You know, we could try to figure it out together.”

He was surprised at your response, making him look up from his notebook with a skeptical look. He studied your face, waiting to see a flinch that would give away you were joking, or a little tug at the corner of your lips trying to cover up your laughter, but he found none.

“Are you serious?” You shrugged, taking a sip of your beer before looking down at his hand that was holding a pen.

“When I tell you I didn’t find it nice, it didn’t mean I didn’t have ideas.” You confessed to him, and he tilted his head your way, still squinting with skepticism.

“Why didn’t you?”

“It wasn’t my place. Like you said, you know yourself better than anyone else, so I wasn’t going to let my ideas maybe… influence you.” You looked down, a little bit embarrassed because it was the first time you and Steve had a civil talk for once. You were also a little angry for wanting to talk to him like this, but he never gave you such a chance… or maybe you hadn’t.

He blinked a few times in surprise, looking down at his notes for a second. He gulped once, and he cleared his throat.

“You think your ideas are so good that they would influence me? Wow, a bit of an ego there.” You couldn’t help but chuckle because it was just a matter of minutes before he made it a fight, but you were surprised when he laughed along. He didn’t mean what he just said. He hesitated for a few seconds before sliding the notebook your way.

“Collaborative.” You said, and he rolled his eyes, handing the pen to you. You took it, your fingers grazing his for a second, sending chills all over your body. Chills, you were going to pretend did not happen at all. 

“C’mon, let me see what your ideas are.” He took a sip of his drink as he watched you study the lyrics. Instead of scribbling on top of his original ones, you were respectful and wrote it all over on a new page. He, of course, noticed it, and it made him move in his seat in which he thought was because he was uncomfortable, but in all honesty, he felt… delighted.

“I think that if you change some adjectives here, or even elongate some phrases, you can make this song like… Slow, but with a slight upturn in the bridge.” You explained as you scribbled a few more seconds before giving the notebook back to him.

He studied it with a frown and–

“God, can you stop being right for two seconds?” Your eyes widened at his outburst, but before you could mention anything of it, he called for a waiter and ordered another negroni and a beer for you. You hadn’t noticed you had drank the entire bottle while writing down notes. 

“I didn’t even say I wanted another beer!” You complained, and he glared at you, but there was a hint of something else behind it. Respect, and also, the need for you to stay.

“Well, we’re gonna work on this, so you have to be fueled up.”

And for some reason, that made you happy. It made you feel useful in another kind of way. Instead of clashing all the time, the two of you spent an hour working on that notebook while drinking and letting the alcohol relax you both. You did not fight. You did not clash against each other. You were hearing one another out and that’s– Fuck, that’s all you’ve ever wanted.

When you first met Steve, you tried to introduce yourself nicely; he was a client after all. He obviously had his ego busted thanks to you, so he didn’t want you near him at all. At first, you didn’t care, but then, when you saw him interact with his best friends, or with Joyce, even with random girls, you couldn’t help but feel jealous that you were never going to have that kind of Steve for you. You were never going to have one of his smiles directed your way, or you would never hear his laughter thanks to you.

And that’s because you liked it. You liked that side of him, and you have always loved what you shouldn’t have.

An hour passed, the three beers now kicking in, but just making you tipsy, bold, and to Steve’s surprise, giggly. You laughed at certain things he pointed out, and just like you, he hated that you never smiled for him. He hated that all he got from you were snarky remarks or orders. It intrigued him, which only added to the fuel of despising you. Why would he want a mean girl like you? Why would he want someone who criticized him out of fun? That’s fucked up. He clearly had something wrong going on in his head.

But he couldn’t deny how pretty you looked. There were times he remained silent while you said something because, even when angry because of something he said, you looked pretty. You looked pretty while frowning, glaring at him. Eddie had joked around with him, telling him you two needed to fuck it out and get it over with. Steve didn’t know what Eddie was on about because, why the hell would he want to fuck you?

And now, with four drinks in, he can answer that fucking question with no shame.

It was always a tug-of-war game, see who caved in first. There were times, little ones, when he would be having a hard time with a fan interaction, and you would step up to cover for him. You were in charge of making sure no interviewers asked out of line questions to him. 

And on your side, you noticed how Steve would order either coffee or ask Joyce if she could give you a day off. There were times when you didn’t sleep because it was an event, an interview, and a concert, back to back to back, so the content was fresh. You had to do your investigation and see what the people were talking about, and not miss a single hour. Joyce told you that Steve demanded you back off for a while.

You were mad at first, only to realize after sleeping for twelve hours straight just how badly you needed to rest. You tried thanking him after that, but it ended with you two staring at each other before he got called into the recording booth. You never got to thank him for those times when, even if your job was to basically shut him down, he cared for your health.

The two of you weren’t blind to each other, you were just idiots.

“Okay, hang on, so, you and Eddie never banged?” Steve almost spat his negroni, a laugh escaping his lips, shaking his head. 

“Why the fuck would you even think that!?”

“He is very touchy!” Steve smirked, tilting his head to the side, making that curl of his hair fall a little bit as well. Damn him.

“You jealous that he is touchy with me?” You gasped, feeling your stomach do a twirl at the accusation, but you shook your head aggressively.

“No! But come on, the girls online also think you two are dating! There’s even fucking fanfictions about you two!” He squinted slightly, now confused.

“What are fanfictions?” Your eyes widened in surprise, a smile of mischief appearing on your lips. You hummed as you grabbed your phone and tapped on the screen. He took this time to scan your features. You looked relaxed, as if you were treating him like a person and not the celebrity you have to keep in check. Then his eyes moved downwards, and– that damn neck of yours. Fuck–

“Here.” You handed him your phone with a smirk on your face. He took it without question, seeing it was text, and he took a sip of his drink as he read, adjusting the glasses over his face. For some reason, he decided to read it out loud, which only made you cover your mouth in anticipation–

“Steve could only look Eddie into his eyes for a few seconds, before his hands started making their way to the belt of his best friend’s pAAAHNT–” He dropped the phone on the table with disgust and a yelp, and you burst out laughing, throwing yourself back onto the booth, holding your belly. “What the hell!”

You couldn’t help but feel the tears building up from laughing so hard, and soon enough he started laughing too, taking his glasses off to cover his eyes as if he were in pain. The song was forgotten, the work, the fans, the blog, everything. You were just in a bar booth, laughing your ass off with a cute boy. That’s what it felt like.

“And you’re always the passive.” Steve choked on his saliva as he leaned down to rest his head into his arms, cradling it while laughing hysterically into them. You wiped your eyes, trying to cease your laughter, but having a hard time doing so. 

“I’m gonna kill myself.” He said jokingly, which prompted you to laugh again. After a minute, he finally came back up, his eyes teary from the laughter, and he was taking deep breaths in to calm himself down. “Also, the passive!?” 

“Yeah, the one who takes it.” He rolled his eyes and chuckled, leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest, which only made your eyes fall to the extent of his biceps getting slightly bigger because of the flex. You gulped as you were finally left with small giggles, putting your phone away.

“If only my fans knew.” He mumbled, but you caught on to it. You frowned in question, a cheeky smile on your lips as you rested your elbows on the table and your chin at the top of your joined hands. 

“Knew what, Harrington?” His eyebrow twitched for just a second in thought before he finally caught sight of you. His body tensed, and the air around you both did as well. You two were lucky no one else was down there at the bar at that time. 

So, as his tongue and muscles got a bit loose thanks to the alcohol, his crossed arms came to rest on the table as well, leaning forward, your way.

“If they knew how I really was in bed, I would not be considered the bottom.” Your legs clenched together at those words because– Fuck, it’s been a while since you had sex and, you had been interested in Steve despite hating him, but it shouldn’t be. It shouldn’t happen, and now he is letting your imagination go wild.

“Oh? And how is the nice, charming, gentlemanly Steve Harrington in bed, huh?” You tried to sound as teasing as possible, using the names people called him online, but all you got from him was a cheeky grin, one that was making your entire body turn on like a wildfire.

“That, I keep to myself and whoever I have sex with, honey.” The pet name. The pet name came out by itself and with no restraint. He was staring at your reactions, and– Was he causing any? He noticed how you looked away, taking the last sip of your beer and, fuck, he did. He did cause a reaction, and you looked good like this. You looked good when you were speechless.

And he can think of a way or two to provoke that again.

“As long as there’s an NDA afterwards.” You joked a bit, trying to hide how much you have reacted to his words because the images in your head kept popping up. You have seen him shirtless thanks to photoshoot campaigns, and, thanks to the girls online pointing it out, you obviously stumbled over thirst posts… some were of his bulge thanks to his tight pants. 

He huffed a bit as his eyes never left your figure, his tongue licking the inside of the bottom of his lip in thought, trying to gather up even more courage than what the liquid had given him. It was starting to wear off, so he had to use it quickly.

“And what about you?”

“Mmm?”

“How are you in bed? You think that in a so-called fanfiction of this, would you be the bottom?” Your eyebrows went up, stunned at the bold question. You leaned back, putting your hands to your sides, grabbing onto the seat, and popping your chest up as if you were lying back on the seat. His eyes drifted to your cleavage, and fuck, did that dress look good on you.

“Well… If it were a fanfiction of me and you… I would definitely be pegging you.” His eyes widened, his arms still crossed as he leaned back. His pants started to tighten up more and more, and if your teasing before made him hard a few times, the sexual teasing was going to be the death of him.

“Is that right?” He challenged, and the fire just kept spreading more and more, and this was not supposed to happen, because it shouldn’t. You really should get up, say goodbye, and go away. Yet, you stayed put.

“What? You think you could dominate the situation? I hardly believe it, you can barely fight me when I suggest something for your image.” You scoffed to emphasize your mockery, but he didn’t even smile. Instead, his pupils were dilated, looking your way. It only made your limbs grow limp. It was as if he just made your entire self feel like something you could squish with just a hard grip. 

“Hmm…” He hummed, his eyes still racking all over your body, and he wanted you to feel it. He wanted you to feel observed, he wanted you to feel like fucking prey for him, because he knew he was good. He knew it, and that is the one thing he won’t tolerate you criticizing.

He really wants to shut you the fuck up.

“I’m sorry. We need to do a clean-up before the morning shift starts?” The waiter came over as politely as possible, and your eyes noticed the discomfort on his face. He was obviously uncomfortable because he knew he had interrupted, but maybe it was for the better. You took a deep breath before standing up. Steve gave a generous tip to the waiter, getting up and putting the small notebook in his back pocket while he hung his reading glasses on the collar of his button-up shirt. 

“Thank you.” You mumbled to the waiter before you headed out of the bar, Steve following right behind. Every step felt heavy with tension as you two walked towards the elevators. He stood next to you with his hands in his front pockets, and you were trying not to glance, but the stickiness between your legs was bringing you back to the real world, in which you were wet for the man you ‘hated’, making you move in your place.

“You gotta pee?” He asked as the elevator dinged and the doors opened. Spacious and empty. Your belly flipped, and you noticed how his hand pressed against the frame so the doors wouldn’t close, so you could step in first. You gulped, walking into the elevator, shaking your head.

“No. These heels are just killing me.” He chuckled, stepping inside and pressing your room’s floor first. You were surprised he remembered it. 14.

“Really? You’ve been sitting all night, though.” He reminded you, and you felt yourself flushing over at being caught. You shrugged, trying not to let the nerves, or rather, the need to jump on him, consume you as the doors closed, leaving you two alone.

“They can still hurt. You’ve never worn heels, you have no say.” He chuckled at your response, and then it was silent.

The air was tense, just the sound of the elevator slowly moving as it went up. You scratched the side of your face, trying to distract yourself from the events of the night. He then leaned against the mirror behind him, his arms crossed as his eyes ran all over your body, which only made you scoff a bit.

“What?”

“Why are you acting like you’re the main character of a music video?” You asked, kind of irritated. He chuckled, tilting his head.

“Jealous?” 

“Of your ego? Never.” 

Then the floor kept clicking upward, and his hand raked over his hair, as if nervously, or maybe fed up.

“You know, for someone who claims to hate me, you have a knack of finding me in every single room we're in.”

Your eyes widened at his words, making your head turn to look at him. He was grinning your way, knowing he was getting under your skin. You level him with one look, shaking your head.

“Please, you orbit me, Harrington.” Then it was silent as you two stared at one another. The air was thick with tension, and you could hear your heartbeat in your ear, a loud ringing that was making you almost lose your balance.

Steve was feeling the pulse in his neck quicken by the second, and it almost felt as if it were about to pop his vein off. He uncrossed his arms, and he took a step closer your way, tentatively.

“Do you still hate me?” His question made your stomach flip, when it fucking shouldn’t. You lifted your chin, trying to make it look like you were unfazed.

“Shouldn’t I?”

That only prompted him to take one more step, and you would only have to raise your hand to touch his chest from how close he got to you. You could feel the heat on your ears, on the tips of your fingertips, in your belly. 

“You didn’t look like you hated me when you were laughing down at the bar with me.” 

Your breathing skipped as his eyes went down to your lips, and your knees trembled slightly at how good he was with physical teasing. He knew what to do to make you crumble, and you hated him a little more because of that. 

“Maybe you just didn’t look like a jerk then.”

“Do I look like one now?” His response was fast, ready to counterattack you. You stayed silent, and that was the answer he needed. He licked his lips, studying your face as his hand itched with the need to touch you. The need to grab you, anywhere. “You’re really… insufferable, honey.”

Your mouth opened in disbelief at his words, only for the elevator doors to open on your floor. Maybe he was only mocking you for the night. Maybe it was his goal to know if you fancied him or not, and he might have gotten his answer, and that made you mad. You scoffed and stepped out of the elevator, ready to go to your room and write a long fucking post on how he sucked ass tonight–

But his hand gripped your arm, pulling you back in as his other hand pressed against another button aggressively, his floor, just four more floors up. You managed to let a small gasp leave you before his lips clashed against yours, the elevator doors closing behind you.

Your body moved instinctively, your arms wrapping desperately around his shoulders as his arms wrapped around your body, his hands on your back, pressing you close to him. It felt desperate, rough, filled with pent-up feelings that both of you were never going to admit. 

He backed the two of you against a wall, his hand stopping the impact for a second so you wouldn’t hit it hard, before wrapping it back around your body. You could feel your center throbbing for him, and this was just a kiss. Not even with tongue. His hand glided down to your right thigh, making you wrap your leg around his hip, and then, you moaned into his mouth.

His hard on was tight against his pants, pressing it against you and creating friction on your clothed clit. He took the advantage of pushing his tongue inside your mouth, finally having a proper taste of you, making his stomach flip over. His hips rolled instinctively once, making you groan into the kiss as your nails ran all over his hair, scratching at his scalp.

You heard him groan and grip onto your thigh even tighter, his hand underneath your dress, and someone could walk into the elevator at any moment and see you two together, but you couldn’t care less. Not now. He didn’t care either, even when he should, because he was a rockstar, and this could make it in a post anytime soon. 

Your tongue was exquisite against his, and again, his hatred for you only grew. Why were you so fucking perfect? It wasn’t fair. He pulled away after a second, panting heavily against your lips. 

“Still hate me?” He mumbled desperately, and you nodded, your hips rubbing against his, earning a moan from both of you.

“So much…”

“Then get off on my floor.”

The elevator bounced a bit as it dinged. He pulled away from you as the doors opened, and you didn’t even hesitate to follow him, like a magnet. He smirked breathlessly as he grabbed your hand, pulling you out of the elevator and walking down the hallway. His hand went into the left back pocket of his jeans, and he got his card out, stopping in front of his door. 

You were looking around, making sure you were not being seen, but, in all honesty, some part of you wanted to. Some part wanted people, the girls who thirsted for him, to know he was taking you to his room. Maybe it was your ego talking. Maybe it was just some proud moment of fucking a celebrity… You weren’t going to admit the other possibility of why you wanted everyone to know you were about to fuck Steve.

He passed the card against the lock of the door, and it opened, letting you in first. Once he closed it behind him, he didn’t give you a single chance to look around, to look at the much fancier room he had rented for the night, because he was back on you in an instant. His hands cradled your face as he kissed you roughly, passionately, and fuck you were growing addicted to them. You had never been kissed in such a way, you felt completely and utterly wanted, desired. 

The kiss was greedy, desperate, and then he pulled away from you to kiss down your jaw, then your neck, grazing his teeth against the skin of your pulse point. Your hands were dragging against his biceps, trying to center yourself back to earth, a hoarse chuckle escaping you.

“You kiss like you’ve been waiting to do it since the moment I called you overrated in your face.” Your eyes fluttered shut at a particular suck on your neck, making you sigh.

“I have.” He growled against you, “you piss me off so much, I get hard by thinking about shutting you up.”

“Oh, fuck off–” You were cut off as his hand started moving up on your thigh, under your dress. His fingertips dragging against the elastic of your underwear. His hips pressed against you, making you feel his bulge against your belly, his leg sliding between yours, thigh pressing against your cunt. You moaned against your will, feeling that sweet friction on you again. He pulled away from your neck, his nose brushing against yours.

“This what you imagined?” He murmured, and his mouth brushed against yours, making you sigh. “Me, pinning you like this? Getting you wet after talking shit the way you did?”

“I imagined punching you–” You gasped as his fingers ghosted over your clothed pussy, a soft huff escaping him as he pressed even harder, feeling your wetness.

“And yet you are soaked.”

You were going to retort, if it weren’t for the fact that he got down on his knees, right before you. He hooked your leg over his shoulder, his eyes locked in your panties with hunger in them. You were shocked, looking down at him, and his lips found your inner thigh, kissing it softly before giving it a soft nibble.

“Still want to hit me?” You whined as your hips moved a bit towards him, and his mouth was on the wet lace in a second. You gasped, throwing your head back against the wall as your hands went to grab onto his head. 

“Fuck–” You moaned out as he sucked on your clothed clit. If this is how it felt with your panties on, you were desperate to know how it felt without them. He moaned at your scent, at your taste, and he got his other hand to move between your legs, while the other gripped onto your ass, and he hooked his fingers on the center of your panties to move them to the side.

You clenched at nothing when the cold air hit your pussy, only for that to be replaced by the warmth of his tongue, making you sigh with delight. He swirled it around your clit, making moans escaping you as he groaned into your cunt, before sliding his tongue between your folds, tasting you completely.

“You taste so fucking good…” He moaned into you as he fondled your ass, making you grip his hair even tighter. He lapped at you like a man starved, as if you were the most delectable thing he ever tasted. 

“Fuck, don’t stop… Steve–” You whimpered as your back arched off the wall when he dipped his tongue inside of you. This was the living proof this fucker was a singer. He knew how to move his lips, his tongue, going from licking to sucking and it was driving you wild. 

“Never.” You heard him mumble against you, and then his hand left your ass, and you felt the tip of his fingers gliding against your entrance, making you gasp. “Beg for them.” 

Your mouth fell open at the request, but he sucked on your clit again and your walls clenched around nothing, when they wanted to clench around something. Your body was flushed all over, hating him just a little more.

“Please…”

“Please, what? Come on, you are super clear when you order me around, you can be clear in your begging too.” You fucking hated him. Your belly turned desperately, feeling even more aroused than before, and your dominating side was slowly slipping away from you. 

“Please, use your fingers… Please–”

“Good girl.” Your eyes widened when you felt two of his fingers going inside of you slowly, his ring and middle finger, and– You couldn’t deny it. You had seen his hands before, way too fucking big, and maybe you had fantasized a bit once or twice about them. 

Those fantasies did his fingers no justice as he started pumping them in and out of you mercilessly. The squelching of your pussy echoing in the room as well as your moans and his. He was flickering your clit with the tip of his tongue, curling his fingers towards him to try to find that special spot inside of you.

You moaned his name when you felt your belly start to coil, and you realized you were getting close. Embarrassingly fast. This is what you get for not having a moment’s peace to take care of yourself for weeks.

“Steve– Oh–” He could feel your walls fluttering against his fingers and he groaned as he pulled away from your clit, looking up at you.

“Tell me how much you hate me.” And you felt your body growing a sweat as your legs started to shake, the one over his shoulder twitching as your climax built and built.

“I fucking hate–” You gasped at a particular movement of his fingers, making you jerk against him, the first warning you were going to cum making itself present. Your hands gripped his hair tightly, desperately. “-- that you’re so good at this–”

He chuckled and he sucked hard against your clit, his fingers dragging in and out of you. You were breathing heavily, and then, you came undone. You saw stars behind your eyelids as your back arched off the wall. Your leg over his shoulder hooked towards his back, pushing him into you desperately as you moaned loudly, and he had to concentrate on not cumming right then and there because you just sounded incredible.

He slowed his pace as he helped you ride your orgasm out, licking, taking your slick into his mouth to taste your climax. Once he felt you unclench, and your leg relaxed against him as well as your hands letting go of his hair, he pulled away from you. He breathed in deeply as he tried to catch his breath. 

He patted your leg, silently telling you to move from him, and you followed the instructions, trying to stabilize your breathing as you put your leg down. He gave one last kiss to your clit, making you groan and jerk in your place at the overstimulation. He chuckled, grabbing the edges of your panties to finally pull them down from you. You stepped out of them, and he finally stood back up, towering over you. He threw your panties onto the small table next to the door.

His eyes found yours, and you saw the darkness in them, the lust, and you trembled once again as you felt him grab onto your waist. His lips clashed against yours, and you could taste yourself, making you a little dizzy as your arms wrapped around his shoulders. His tongue instantly connected with yours as he pressed himself against you. Your hand glided downwards in between your bodies, finally touching the big bulge in his pants.

He groaned into the kiss as he felt you palming him, then pressing your palm against him. He needed more. He wanted more. He pulled away from you, breathing heavily into your lips. 

“Bed, now.” You nodded at his request, kissing him desperately again as he pulled the two of you off from the wall, walking you backwards and towards the bed. You jumped a bit when you felt the edge of it on the back of your knees, pulling away from him. His hands gripped the hem of your dress, pulling it over your head. “Oh, fuck–”

You didn’t let him touch you, moving to sit on the bed, getting out of your heels before you moved back onto it, setting yourself in the middle, completely naked. You saw how flushed he was, gripping onto his shirt, ripping it off his body, and then quickly moving to his belt. His movements were rushed as you stared at his stripping. You saw that chest hair you’ve thought of brushing your fingers over a few times before, then the freckles in places you’ve always wondered if they even had them. 

Then he got out of his shoes and jeans, and all was left were those blue tight boxers on him and– Fuck. He looked big. He looked so big. He noticed your eyes on him, making him smirk, but also shiver from the attention you were giving him. He grabbed the hem of them and pulled them down finally, his cock springing up and hitting against his belly and your eyes widened.

You didn’t know if in all your life you had slept with smaller than average dicks or if Steve was just… huge. You noticed the smug look on his face, and you wanted to wipe it off, so you stared at him as you were propped on your elbows, slowly spreading your bent legs for him. His eyes fell back to your cunt and he had to take a sharp intake of breath in, his dick twitching for attention. 

He got on the bed, crawling your way, but before he completely covered you, he leaned to the side, towards the bedside table. You saw him grab his wallet, opening it to get a condom out, making you roll your eyes. He noticed, straightening up after tossing his wallet back on the table.

“Anything you want to say?”

“Nope.” 

“I can absolutely get off of you, if you so want me to–”

“I swear if you don’t fuck me in the next five seconds, I’m walking out of here.” He chuckled at your whiplash of emotions. You saw him rip the foil with his teeth, and that shouldn’t have been as hot as it had been, but here you were. He rolled the condom on himself, and you took a sharp intake of breath as you lay down when he crawled a little closer, getting on top of you. 

“Anything your snarky mouth wants to add?” He asked and you were getting pissed, frustrated as you grabbed onto his shoulders, glaring at him.

“Why are you still fucking talking–” Your words were cut off with a gasp when you felt him pushing in. His eyes were on how your face contorted into a silent moan, a satisfying groan vibrating in his throat as he gave a nibble to your jaw.

“Yeah, there you go, shut the fuck up–” You wanted to punch him, but the more he filled you, the more you couldn’t come up with any words in your head. Your mouth was open, choking on your spit at every inch. “Fuck–”

He cursed as he felt your warmth all around him, and maybe Eddie was right. You two needed to fuck it out. He couldn’t believe how good you felt, and he could have had you all these months if he hadn’t been so stubborn. If you hadn’t been one too. If you two had stopped for a second and just talked with each other the way you did today.

But then, this sex wouldn’t have been as delicious as it was going to be.

He growled into your ear as he thrusted inside of you in one sharp movedent, hilting himself into your cunt, bottoming out completely, and you could barely breathe. It was a sudden stretch. It was big, suffocating even, knocking all the air that was held in your lungs. His hands were on each side of your head, but his lips were on your ear, breathing into it.

He waited for a few seconds for you to adjust to him, but also to calm himself down because he was sure he was going to cum two strokes in. He took deep breaths in as he concentrated on anything else but your soft little whimpers. He felt you roll your hips against him, and he cursed under his breath, his hands gripping the sheets beneath you.

His hips started to slowly roll, in and out, soft movements to get you used to the friction, and you were already going insane for it. You felt so full, each drag against you was incredible, making you tremble underneath him. Your nails were scratching on his back, legs spreading even more.

“Steve– More…” You gulped, not even believing the soft whimper, the soft plea that tumbled out of your lips. He hummed into your ear, and his hips started picking up a pace, and your moans finally started leaving your mouth. He felt a wave of heat all over his body the moment his name was called, breathlessly, and he had to see your face.

He leaned up, holding himself up by his hands as his hips snapped into yours. Your face was contorted in pleasure. Your eyebrows were downwards, your mouth was open, and your eyes were half lidded as you stared at the ceiling. You looked marvelous, and fuck he wanted to see more. He wanted to see you choke on your words.

He sat back on his legs, his hands coming to grip the back of your knees to keep you spread for him, and he started moving in fast thrusts, deep, making the bed creak and the headboard hit the wall behind it, over and over again. Your moans became louder, your hands coming to grip the pillow beneath you. Your eyes found his face. He was frowning, the hair now almost sticking to his forehead, his body was flushed red, and you noticed how the veins on his biceps were pronounced, as well as the one on his neck.

He rolled his head over his shoulders at a particular drag of his cock, making you clench around him. Then again, this time, making him moan your name, which made your brain short-circuit.

“You feel so fucking good…” He felt his belly burning, and he knew he had to be quick in making you cum again because he was going to anytime soon. It was embarrassing, but he wasn’t a man of taking groupies, or fucking his fans. He also barely had time to jerk himself off, because he was barely alone. 

You whimpered at his words, your back arching off the bed as your body bounced back and forth thanks to his thrusts. His eyes were fixed on your breasts, watching them, and he growled as he moved downwards once again, his lips closing on your left nipple and softly tugging on it.

“Steve!” You gasped and he gave the same treatment to the right one, making you clench around his cock. He growled into your breast, his thrusts becoming slow, shallow, and deep. Each time he pulled out, he kept the tip in, only to thrust back in roughly, rolling his hips inside of you at the end of it. 

At each snap, you both heard the loud thump of the headboard, but it only heightened the experience. Whoever was next to him, if they saw you the next day walking out of his room, they would know what happened. He couldn’t care less; in fact, he hoped someone would see you. Someone would see you walking out, with wobbly legs, with his marks all over your neck.

He continues that pace, getting his hand between your bodies, his fingers finding your sensitive clit which made you jerk your hips towards him. You were breathless as tears pooled in your eyes from how good it felt. How amazing he was making you feel, and you wanted to punch him for that. His breath was in your ear as his fingers picked up a pace, making you mewl underneath him.

“Say it.” You frowned in confusion, only for his teeth to bite your earlobe, making you gasp.

“Say what?” He rolled his hips inside of you, making your hands snap towards his biceps, gripping him tightly as you moaned out his name.

“That you don’t hate me.” Another roll that had you biting on his shoulder, a moan escaping his lips, and into your ear. 

“I don’t hate you…” You answered and he moaned your name, sweetly, this time, and you felt your body light up at his tone. Your belly started to burn up again, twirling inside out, and his fingers were working overtime now to get you to cum for a second time.

“Louder, baby. Say it louder.” His hips started moving faster, your walls fluttering around him as your hands ran through his hair, pushing his mouth into your neck. You could feel him biting down on your skin, making you whimper and shiver underneath him.

“I don’t hate you, Steve! Please– Don’t stop–” And he doesn’t. He kept the pace, his fingers on your sensitive clit, swirling around as his cock kept punishing your insides. Your g-spot was grazed at each stroke, and your eyes started to roll to the back of your head.

“I’m about to cum– Fuck–” He cursed your name, and you started panting before your second orgasm crashed into you like a tidal wave, stronger than the first one. Your walls clenched tightly around him, your eyes shutting tightly, and your nails digging into his shoulders.

His name came out of your lips with a cry, your cunt trying to push him out of you from how much you were clenching. He huffed a few breaths, choking on his moans from how tight you felt, to the point it was almost painful. He watched you contort underneath him, and you never looked more amazing than right now.

And at your sight, he came. He groaned your name as he spilled inside the condom, his hands coming to grip the pillow underneath your head as he snapped his hips into you at each spurt. His face almost looked pained, but it was the complete opposite. He could barely handle the pleasure he felt, and he was sure he came way too hard into the condom.

You managed to open your eyes to see his reaction, and fuck– He looked so good like that. Definitely another look you liked on him. Then he finally stilled, and that left the two of you breathing heavily, looking at each other with half-lidded eyes. 

You two crossed a line that should not have been crossed. You couldn’t blame the alcohol because that just made you both brave—brave to do something you were scared of doing before. It didn’t make you do something you two didn’t want; it urged and encouraged you to do it.

Then, he winced when he slowly pulled out of you, looking down at the mess he had made and– he did cum a lot. You groaned at the feeling, and then his eyes found yours again. Should you leave? Should you just… bid goodbye to him now? You didn’t know what any of this really meant, so you needed some guidance over here. You didn’t want to leave, but didn’t know where Steve stood. 

“Well… that happened…” You softly spoke, and Steve huffed, nodding and plopping next to you, staring at the ceiling, same as you. He took the condom off and tied it up, throwing it on the floor, something he could take care of later, because right now, he couldn’t concentrate on that.

“Yeah. That happened.” He was also thinking the same things you were. Should he let you sleep in his room if he leaves? Should he just let himself fall asleep? But fuck, he didn’t want to just pretend that didn’t happen.

So, fuck it.

You were surprised when you felt arms engulf you, pulling you towards a chest as you both now lay on your sides. Your eyes were fixed on his chest hair, feeling your cheeks burning like crazy because you weren’t prepared for him to cuddle you. Not that you were complaining. 

His hands rubbed against your back, his thoughts running. He wasn’t going to let this happen just once. Hell, he wanted what happened back down in the bar. He wanted to kiss you whenever you frowned at him. He wanted to make you proud as well, following your instructions, letting you know he heard. Letting you know he took your words into account.

“Still think I’m overrated?” You couldn’t help but chuckle, your arms wrapping around him.

“Absolutely…” 

But maybe you weren’t so sure you meant it now. His fingertips were softly grazing your skin, giving you soft caresses that made you melt more and more into him. You hummed appreciatively against him, nuzzling against his chest. Then, you started laughing, pulling back a bit from him. He frowned, a smile creeping on his lips.

“What?”

“I just remembered– So many of the comments I get, say that I secretly want to fuck you. That, that’s the reason why I do the blog.” His eyebrows raised in surprise, then a squint with a cheeky glint.

“Secretly? If only they knew we might have to pay the safety deposit of this hotel room because, pretty sure, we made a hole in the wall with the headboard.” You giggled, covering your face in shame, and he could not stop himself from being amused by this new side of you. “You gonna tell your loyal followers the truth?”

“That I got railed by the rockstar I roast for fun?” You hummed a bit, looking up at him. “Tempting.”

“Only if you include the part where you begged.” He smirked and you scoffed, shaking your head, but your heart was filling up with small little butterflies.

“I did not beg.”

“Oh, honey…” He bit his lip, loving this little banter with you as he rolled on top of you again, holding one of your hands against the pillow. “You absolutely begged.”

Before, you would have wanted to punch the smug grin on his face, but right now, you wanted to kiss it. His hair was all messy, and his skin was all flushed. He just looked too pretty, irking you just a little bit.

“You are more tolerable when you don’t talk.” You snarkily replied, and he coughed a chuckle, giving you a small nod.

“And you’re pretty when you’re helping me, instead of being a bit of a bitch.” Your eyebrows raised up in surprise, your mouth falling open. Your heart skipped a bit, tilting your head at him.

“Is this admitting you like me, rockstar?” He hummed, putting his lips on your shoulder to lay a soft, lazy kiss there. You sighed, your eyes fluttering closed for a second.

“Let’s say, I didn’t hate fucking you stupid.”

“Wow, romance isn’t dead.” You replied dryly, not really liking that answer, not noting the sarcasm and humor behind his tone. He noticed, chuckling and pulling his head back up to look down at your angry face.

“Let me take you out.” And you weren’t expecting that, your breathing catching in your throat as you tried to swallow from the sudden nerves that invaded you.

“Like a date?” He gulped, finally feeling his stomach turning at the fear of your answer. He slowly nodded, finally admitting to wanting more than to share some sheets with you.

“What do you say?”

You couldn’t help but ponder. This was probably a bad idea, wasn’t it? No matter how you looked at it, this would end up in shambles, wouldn’t it? He was someone famous, you were just a person in his team. That’s all. He noticed you were hesitating, making him grow a little anxious and a bit desperate, so he tried talking again–

“You can still make fun of me, my music, my lyrics, and what I wear. I will even let you write a scathing review of my bedroom performance…” He gulped, knowing he was begging at this point, but something about you was driving him insane. Something was telling him to risk it. To dive in. 

And you found it endearing. You couldn’t help but find him extremely charming, making you bite your bottom lip as your eyes went back and forth with his. You leaned up and gave him a soft kiss on the lips, pulling away with a small nod.

“Okay… Just one.” He smiled at your response, wanting to fist pump the air.

“That’s all I need.” You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. You weren’t going to show him how happy you were, at least not yet. You poked his chest jokingly, raising an eyebrow at him.

“You’re still not that great, you know?” You fought, and he smirked, his mouth leaning close to yours, his voice low and a bit wicked, which made chills run down your spine. 

“Then, let me prove you wrong, again.”

end

a/n: long live joe keery's hands

[viperify]

Congrats on 1k im so happy for you girly ❤️

Can you do brother's bestfriend with "look me in the eye when you lie like that" and "don't stop. Don't you dare stop"?? With smut if alright.

I fucking love your works and the way you write tom? Ugh so good 🤌🏽😩🛐

1k celebration | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ᴍᴀʟꜰᴏʏ ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

₊˚⊹ Home Alone.

Short Summary: He is your brother’s best friend. And, ironically, also the only person who seems to care about you—taking care of you when your parents aren’t home.

Warnings: 18+ only! dubious consent. manipulative and toxic!Tom, naive!reader, deepthroating, rough oral m!receiving

A/N: Thank you for your kind words and for requesting, baby!!! I am so glad you’ve been enjoying my works! :33 I love you so much <333 And ahhhh I have been so so lazy with my requests, I am so sorry. It’s so hard for me to write atm. And I have my graduation tomorrow + I gotta start packing for my vacation. I love you, thanks for being patient🥺

wordcount: 1,6k

in this fic, you will find HINT NR #8 AND #9

“It’s a mistake, Tom. Us, I mean.” You mutter as he stands right before you, arms crossed. You don’t even dare look up at him, trying to get it over with as quickly as you can. “We can’t go on like this. If anyone finds out—“

He cuts your sentence short by grabbing your chin, tilting your head up so you are forced to meet his gaze. His expression is closed, jaw tense—air around you thick with tension. Tom waits just a moment before he speaks—letting it linger—the control he has over you even without words.

“You certainly did not sound unhappy just yesterday when you were screaming my name in your parents’ bed, did you, doll?”

Heat flushes your cheeks, and you avert your eyes at the memory.

—

It shouldn’t have happened—him and you, in your parents’ bedroom. But when his hands slipped under the hem of your dress, eager lips hastily trailing kisses down your neck—your brain short-circuited, and the nearest bedroom had to do.

Which—unfortunately—happened to be your parents’.

You weren’t even supposed to be home alone. But being Abraxas’ younger sister meant sitting out on family travels more often than you would have liked. You’ve always been in his shadow—and your parents don’t care quite enough to make it any better.

An unexpected event led them to leave for the weekend—and you were instructed to stay home and study. Or do whatever—in the end, they have never really cared. 

Mostly, that is. 

Your Potions grades haven’t been great as of late. Even failed one or two exams—and oh, what a shame that was on the Malfoy name. You didn’t get to hear the end of it for weeks.

So, instead of leaving you to yourself, they informed you that “one of Abraxas’ friends” would visit to tutor you while they were gone.

One of Abraxas’ friends. Just for one day.

While it was abundantly clear who they were talking about, you hoped it wouldn’t be him—Tom. 

Memories resurfaced—memories of the countless shared nights in the library when he spared you ten minutes of his time during prefect duties, the prefect’s bathroom he unlocked just for you, but always insisted on joining you…

Luck has never been on your side.

Also not now.

He didn’t leave after the first day. Not after the second either. It’s Sunday evening now, and he is still here. And you can’t help but grow more and more nervous at the thought of your parents seeing you together.

—

“Hm? Cat got your tongue?” He drawls, thumb caressing along the soft line of your jaw. “Tell me then. That I mean nothing to you.”

Tom knows exactly what he is doing—that you would never want to disappoint nor leave him. He’s got you wrapped around his finger. Abraxas’ little sister, naive enough to do anything and everything he wanted. Being your parents’ second choice, it was easy enough for him to make you feel wanted and special—even if he merely gave you an ounce of attention.

You attempt to swallow the knot that has formed in your throat. “I— It’s not right, Tom. I don’t think we should continue seeing each other… like this.”

He scoffs at your vague attempt to talk yourself out of the situation, squeezing your cheeks tighter. "Look me in the eyes when you lie like that."

You do look up to meet his eyes—and stumble over your words when you try to speak again. They feel as though they burn your skin as he stares down at you. A reminder.

You don’t repeat it. Because deep down you know he is right—that it’s a lie.

After all, Tom is the first person to care for you. Make you feel wanted—

“Thought so,” he murmurs, letting go of your face, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You don’t want to disappoint me, do you? Make me angry? That’s not necessary, right?”

You shake your head no, immediately regretting bringing it up in the first place.

“How— how can I make it up to you?”

A grin tugs at the corner of his lips as he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, breath ghosting over your cheek, voice dropping to a whisper. “Be a good girl for me and kneel, will you?”

Your eyes widen at his words, expression twisting into one of uncertainty.

“But— they are going to be back any minute, I—“ you try, stumbling over your words as his gaze sharpens, eyes darkening as they bore into yours.

“Don’t you appreciate what I have done for you?” He asks quietly, tone strict—not how he usually talks to you—rather how he talks to Abraxas and the others. “Came here to help you study. Comforted you. Made you feel good. Don’t you think it’s time to return the favour?”

“I do, Tom— I just—“

He is the first to appreciate you for who you are.

He makes you feel wanted.

Loved.

Cared for.

“Get on your knees. Now. I don’t want to hear another word.”

So you do.

Your skin scrapes against the rough wooden planks as you drop to your knees in front of him, your hands already fumbling with his belt, undressing him in a hurry.

And Tom enjoys every second of it.

The way your fingers shake slightly as you free his cock, already half hard when you wrap your hand around his base, stroking him up and down a few times.

“Go on, open your mouth for me, sweetheart.” He instructs, hand cupping your cheek after tapping it gently. You obey, parting your lips and wrapping them around his length, swirling your tongue around the flushed and sensitive head, tasting the saltiness of his precum on your tongue. He groans lowly as you do, fingers tangling in your hair.

One of your hands rests on his thigh, the other wrapped around what you can’t take—but Tom isn’t satisfied, slipping his cock from your mouth, a string of spit connecting to his tip as your eyes meet his.

“You have taken more than that. Come on, darling. Don’t want to disappoint me now, do you?”

Before you even get to answer no, he thrusts back inside, heavy on your tongue—waiting. You try to take more, take him deeper—but barely half way inside, you gag around him and pull back with a whine.

He sighs, both hands now fisting your hair. “Dumb little girl. Open wide and let me do it.”

He pushes past your lips with practised ease. Slips deeper—inch by inch—until your nose is flush with his abdomen. You splutter around him, nails digging into his thighs—but he doesn’t let go until a few seconds later.

Tom guides your head, slow at first, yet firm. Pushing deeper until your throat constricts, tightening around him. He doesn’t let you adjust to his pace—never.

“That’s my good girl. Look at yourself taking me so well.” He praises, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as he hits the back of your throat with every single thrust. 

It’s degrading, it’s addictive—the way his hands guide your head, using your mouth for his pleasure, deriving pleasure from your submission.

But it’s all worth it when you feel him getting closer—your name slipping past his lips in a silent prayer—telling you how good you are to him, how pretty you look stuffed with his cock.

You don’t want to stop, not now. Lips puffy, throat sore—yet, you are determined to make him feel good. Just like he did.

But just when he is about to cum—footsteps.

You pull back as far as you can, shaking your head—voice a whisper. “They are home. We should—“

“Don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop.” Tom hisses, taking a step forward. His fingers tighten in your hair—almost painfully so as he pushes back inside your warm mouth, instantly hitting the back of your throat, gagging sounds filling your bedroom. Your complaints are muffled by his thrusts, hips stuttering as his breathing grows ragged—and the next moment, with a few more thrusts, he spills down your throat. Only pulling out when he feels you swallow around him—lips curled into a smirk.

He lets you catch your breath, wiping a single tear from your cheek. “That’s how I want you. Nice and obedient, hm?”

You nod, looking up at him with glassy eyes—and he scoffs when he sees what he’s made of you in mere minutes.

“Filthy girl,” Tom purrs, thumb swiping over the mess on your chin, pushing the mixture of your saliva and his arousal back past your lips. “Clean yourself up, hm? I will buy you some time.”

And a few minutes later, when you go downstairs to greet your parents—he is still there. His mask is back up—acting as though nothing has happened.

“Your daughter was in desperate need of more lessons, so I decided to pay another visit. I am sure you don’t mind.”

That’s what he tells them.

You nod in silent agreement, eyes fixed on the marble tiles beneath you.

That’s all they need to hear before averting their attention.

What you do catch—the slight smirk tugging on Tom’s lips.

Taking in your expression from across the room—quiet and obedient. Hair dishevelled, lips still swollen.

Just how he likes you.

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