#i guess i was still lucky bc i was there on time after all & got a good grade but it was soooo stressful i'm glad i didn't cry

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

i know that when carlo suddenly decided that he needs to marry guy made a whole list in his head n like had a deadlines n shit. like it was some kind of a task he needed to do

[cheekblush]

really starting to think someone put the evil eye on me.....

[xinganhao]

💘 fake dating seungkwan.

☆ Breaking: SEVENTEEN's Seungkwan Confirms He's In A Relationship [BREAKING] 30m ago

Boo Seungkwan of SEVENTEEN confirms that he's currently dating someone. This comes on the heels of Dispatch reports that Seungkwan is involved in a romantic relationship with an actress.

Seungkwan's agency, Pledis Entertainment, has confirmed the idol's relationship status. "Seungkwan is seeing someone with positive feelings," the agency says in a statement. "We hope that you will look warmly upon their relationship."

Congratulations to the couple!

Listen to SEVENTEEN's newest mini album 'SPILL THE FEELS' here.

COMMENTS • 204 COMMENTS

r/kpop • 3d ago donquix0tes

'Fake dating' contracts?

i swear i'm not just in denial about bsk's dating news (LOL) but i heard rumors that 'fake dating' exists in the industry, especially between actors/actresses - idols??? they said it's this whole underground thing so the actors get more traction, the idols get more streams. is this real or is it just stuff you see in fanfics 😂 i'm asking because i can be a bit gullible lmfao

↑ 30 ↓ 🗨 12 ↷ Share

Contract No. 052615PROFESSIONAL SERVICES AGREEMENT

THIS AGREEMENT made and entered into this 28th day of SEPTEMBER 2024 by and between BOO SEUNGKWAN, hereinafter called IDOL, and [YOUR NAME], hereinafter called ACTRESS for a FAKE DATING ENGAGEMENT.

A. IDOL and ACTRESS agree to engage in a fake relationship for the intents and purposes specified under I: RATIONALE, which by this reference is incorporated herein.

B. This Agreement shall take effect on OCTOBER 28, 2024; contingent upon prior approval to the agencies of IDOL and ACTRESS. The Agreement shall end on MARCH 31, 2025, unless earlier terminated or extended by contract amendment.

C. IDOL/ACTRESS may terminate this Agreement for its convenience any time, in whole or part, by giving the opposing party fourteen-day (14-day) written notice thereof.

NEXT PAGE ⟶

seungkwan updates @boosadanfiles seungkwan at the recent christian louboutin event 🥹 in the caption of the post, he said @yourusername was his date! 🗨 191 ⟳ 1.8K ♡ 5.9K

´◡` ꗃ @yourusername lucky to be doing this with a friend. you make it easy, @hit_thekwan. — Jeju-do, South Korea 🗨 1 ♡ 3

🍊 ꗃ @hit_thekwan Replying to @yourusername we still have three more months 😆 don't give up on me yet

From: Boo Seungkwan <boo.seungkwan98@gmail.com> To: You <yourname@gmail.com> Date: March 31, 2025 Subject: so..?

this e-mail is being written right after my meeting with my company, but right before i text you lol. i'm going to schedule send this for the end of our contract so this is actually going to be a letter from seungkwan of the past 👻 don't be spooked! hehe

jokes set aside, i don't know what the next couple of months will look like. i understand why this is being done. you need the publicity for your drama... we have our cb... bla bla bla. it's all the usual stuff in this godforsaken industry

honestly, when i first got approached with the idea of faking a relationship for the group's benefit, i was 10000% ready to say no. but. i found out who it was going to be

and i just thought, like, okay. we already know each other. we're friends! and i guess i just wanted to make sure things would be easy for you, too. bc you deserve someone who will understand you, who will help you and be there for you through something hellish as this

so here's some promises i'll make you, even though you won't see them until much later lololol: i promise to be THE best fake boyfriend there is!!! i'll be cooperative, i'll play the part. i'll try to make sure this arrangement doesn't feel like work (even though it is), and when it's too much, we can run away to jeju for a weekend (just kidding) (or am i?)

by the time you get this, you'll know whether i got to do all that lol. make sure to hold me accountable ok!!! if i wasn't a good fake boyfriend, then show me this and i'll get you a meal, your choice. if i was a good fake boyfriend... well, that was the goal 🤞

i feel like this is already getting super long, so i'll end it now. i'm going to text you to see what you think of the arrangement. hopefully, you're fine with it, or else this would all just be a waste of writing lol. see you, fake girlfriend :)

forever yours, your bf-to-be seungkwan 🍊

p.s. this is the embarrassing part so i'm burying it in the very bottom 🤷 but i also hope that this whole thing will give me the courage to say what i really want to, which is something like

p.s.s. they didn't have to contract me to date you. i would've done it on my own accord. i would've done it for free.

p.s.s.s. i was ready to do all of it, only because it's you

[kairoot]

THE LITTLE THINGS ─── LHS.

이희승 + 𝑓． reader fluff, established relationship, comfort ✉️ : happy birthday to our bambi 🤎 #hessooldness . also this is so late bc I napped before I could even get on tumblr and write so….

heeseung sighed as he unlocked the door to your apartment, the exhaustion catching up to him. he had spent all day in and out of the studio and dance practice room for the boys’ new comeback. he definitely didn’t want to spend his birthday like that but he had no choice.

on top of that, his day didn’t go very well anyway. he couldn’t seem to get the moves right for the choreography, causing the staff to constantly scold him. his voice session wasn’t so hot, either. the day was a disaster and heeseung was over it. he needed a break.

he stepped into your home, the warmth now surrounding him as he settled in. he placed his shoes and bag by the door before walking off to go find you.

“baby?” he called out softly.

“in here!” you responded from the dining room, still setting up the dinner table. heeseung walked in to a simple but romantic set up. small candles lit on the table with two roses on each side where you both would be sitting.

for the first time today, a smile had appeared on his face, the sight warming his heart.

you turned around to greet him, mirroring his smile.

“happy birthday, baby,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck. he leaned down to peck your lips twice, smile still plastered on his face. he pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“this is— so— beautiful. thank you, princess.” he said between kisses. he pulled away slightly, resting his forehead against yours.

you giggled, rubbing your nose against his before pecking his lips one more time.

“i canceled our reservation since i had a feeling you’d be too tired to go out.” you told him, going back to placing silverware on the table.

he shrugged, taking a seat in the chair across from yours, “that’s fine.”

heeseung let his eyes roam the room, taking in the smell of roses and his favorite dish. he could feel the tension leaving his body with every second that passed. after the exhausting day he’d had, the last thing he expected was to come home to something so thoughtful. you always knew exactly what he needed, even before he did.

“and i made something for you,” you spoke, knocking heeseung out of his inner thoughts. you came from the kitchen, carrying a homemade cake sitting in the dish that heeseung’s mom gave you.

heeseung chuckled, shaking his head, “baby, you know you didn’t have to—“

“but i wanted to.” you said, sitting the cake down and blowing him a kiss.

you went back to the kitchen, getting the pot that had hee’s favorite meal in it and sitting it on the dinner table so you both could eat together.

after dinner, you settled into your bed as heeseung washed up. you put on his favorite movie and placed the shopping bag on his side of the bed. it was filled with a couple of small gifts that he wanted to get for himself but seemed to forget about. but you took it upon yourself to go back and buy him those things.

the bathroom door opened as hee walked back into your shared bedroom dressed in a tee and low gray sweats. his hair hung over his eye but you could still see the tiredness in them.

you pressed play on the movie as he moved to sit on his side of the mattress, smiling at the bag that was there.

“what’s this?”

“open it and find out.” you said, leaning over to peck his cheek.

he pulled out his first gift, opening the small box to see the new cologne that he wanted a few months ago.

“they still had this? no way!” he glanced at you in shock, expecting the spray to have sold out by now.

“guess you just got lucky.” you shrugged. he put the box down before leaving a kiss on the side of your head.

“thank you for tonight, love. you have no idea how much this means to me.” he admitted, sending you a sincere smile.

you wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly. he opened the rest of his gifts and you both cuddled for the rest of the night, his head laying on your chest as you both ate the cake you made and laughed at the movie that played on the tv.

heeseung couldn’t asked for anything better than this. his rough day had turned into one of the best nights he’d had in a long time. it wasn’t the grand gestures or extravagant gifts that made him feel loved—it was moments like these. it was the little things that you did for him. he didn’t need anything more than this. just you.

( ✉️ ) — 𝓣𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @haechansbbg @contyynishimura @sasfransisco @kgneptun @jungwonderz @enha-stars @dioll @jakesangel @cupidscourt @violetwitchmcu @haohaoshoe @randomgirl02228 @wonsdoll @powerpuffstuts @elysianiki @mmygnolia @nshmuras @who-tf-soddhi @pshwrldd — send an ask to join.

( 📺 ) — 𝓝𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤: @k-films

[vanishingstarrs]

pancakes for dinner ( k bakugo x nurse!reader, pro hero era, established relationship, just soft and pure vibes, down bad bakugo aka my boyfie fr, slight smut at the end, NSFW, minors DNI ) ( guysss i’ve been so sick and i’ve been suffering having to work still bc #hispanic we ain’t eva allowed to call out )): i’ve been wanting to write please please please x bakugo but haven’t had the energy, meantime hope y’all enjoy this little fic <3 just wholesome mushy stuff for y’all but then it turned smutty at the end because why not lol also i’m pretty new to writing explicitly so pls lmk how it came out !! idk if i'll do that again lmao we shall see i guess )

You were exhausted.

Mentally and physically.

Work had been a tad overwhelming lately, with extra things being piled onto your already heavy workload after a big merger between two of Japan’s biggest hospitals, which in turn caused a lot of people to be let go. Not only had it been stressful wondering whether you’d make the cut or not after a “re-interview”, but when you learned that you had been accepted you’d also been asked if you could take on a few extra duties.

You had never been one to back down from work, always taking initiative and being happy to help any one of your coworkers that might need it.

Lately though, it seemed every single person needed help. Your coworkers, your patients, and if it wasn’t those two then it was your boss asking if you could help her with management duties that had nothing to do with the extra work you’d been assigned to do on top of everything else.

You were sick and tired.

Your muscles cried out as you pushed your apartment door open and immediately kicked off your shoes, groaning as you bent down in order to place them onto the shoe stand. You were sure you heard your back crack as you stood straight once more to hang your purse and keys.

You didn’t bother unpacking the lunch you never got time to eat, leaving the bag you packed it in tied up and in the fridge before heading into your bedroom and immediately shedding your scrubs. You hated doing skincare, but thought about how dirty your face must be after dealing with so many patients and dragged yourself into the bathroom to get it over with.

By the time you were finished doing everything, your body was begging you to lay down for just a minute.

A little power nap never hurt, you told yourself as you fell onto your bed face first and sighed. You hugged your pillow to your aching body and allowed yourself to relax for just a little while.

Though “a minute” quickly turned into three hours as the sun went down and the night sky pulled you further into dreamland.

You didn’t hear the front door open or close, you didn’t stir when your boyfriend started removing his hero equipment, much less wake when those heavy gauntlets he somehow wore all day hit the floor or when his pounding footsteps carried across the hardwood as he made his way to your shared bedroom to check on you.

You missed the brief smirk on his face as he found you lying on his side of the bed, on your right side with a leg propped up for comfort.

Katsuki knew how hard you’d been working lately with the merger between the two hospitals and how stressed it made you. With him working as a hero, he encountered many people that wound up needing to go to the hospital. On top of that, you also had all the other sick people that hadn’t been involved in some villain attack. You likely dealt and saved more people in a single day than he did in a month, he knew this, he was proud of the fact, actually, and incredibly proud of you.

He was damn lucky to have you.

And for all these reasons, he was happy to see you rest for a bit.

He’d often come home late and find that you’d already done all the cleaning around the house, as well as meal prep for both you and him, and still found the time to bake desert on top of making him dinner. You went above and beyond in all aspects of your life, often even calling and checking up on his parents when he hadn’t done so in too long. He’d receive texts from his mother scolding him and making sure he was taking good care of you the way she knew you did him, he swore you were the favorite and he understood why you were.

Everyone loved you.

He adored you.

Except he hadn’t been doing his part as well as he should be lately.

And so, while you slept, he quietly changed into some loungewear before carefully shutting the bedroom door closed behind him.

He tried his hardest to be quiet as he went around cleaning up throughout the house, he swept, he steam mopped the floors (and prayed he didn’t miss a spot), he did your laundry, took your work shoes and scrubbed them clean for your next workday, he took your old lunch and tossed it out before setting to work on preparing you something delicious for tomorrow.

Being in the kitchen was actually soothing for him, he liked being able to experiment with recipes and different things for you to try. He hated that he hadn’t made the time to recently. He cooked enough dinner to pack lunch for both you and him, then last minutely decided that you’d definitely want something sweet when you woke up and pulled out the ingredients to make pancakes from scratch.

You liked it best when you had pancakes for dinner, not breakfast.

He was extremely pleased when they turned out light and fluffy just the way you liked them and he set out to cut up some fruit for you to put on top, making sure everything was ready before heading back to your shared room.

Katsuki was less quiet this time around, as he slid into bed next to you. He propped himself up on his elbow as he buried his fingers into your hair and gently scratched your scalp.

You were exhausted, and likely wouldn’t have woken up if not for him leaning over and placing kisses from your neck all the way up to your ear. You felt his hot breath as he whispered for you to please wake up, which made you groan softly.

You’d yet to open your eyes, but who else would it be? You asked,“Katsuki?”

“Made you food, baby, c’mon, I saw you didn’t eat your lunch, you gotta put somethin’ in your belly.” He explained as he removed his hand from your hair and lifted the material of your shirt to rub up and down your stomach, you felt him inch closer to your chest before stopping himself and tugging your tank top back down to your waist.

You turned toward him, quickly finding the divet in between his shoulder and neck to plant your face in. You were barely awake, not really comprehending what he was trying to say.

“Missed you.” You relaxed further into him.

“Missed you so much, sweets.” You felt him kiss your forehead,“Hate to pull you from bed, but you really gotta open your eyes for me.”

You did as he asked, smiling as his face came into view, lit up by the soft light streaming in from the hallway. “Hi, honey.” You managed to get out as he smushed your cheeks (cuteness aggression) and placed three kisses onto your nose.

You grinned as he said hi back and repeated that he’d cooked for you.

You beamed, you hadn’t had his cooking in a while, but didn’t exactly make a move to get up from bed. It wasn’t until he revealed that he’d made you pancakes, that had you up in seconds.

He chuckled as he followed you down the hall, lightly smacking your butt as you happily made your way through the apartment. You turned to him with surprise,“You cleaned too?”

“Course.” He scoffed as he tugged on your hand and sat you down at your small table that sat four people max. “I’d do it more if you didn’t always beat me to everything, I was thinking I should be doing a bit more around here anyway.”

“I can handle it.” You said, like always.

He rolled his eyes as he brought over the plate he’d prepared for you.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t, I’m just saying you don’t have to give a hundred percent every day, you know? You could give me thirty and I’d be more than happy to give the remaining seventy.” He began to explain,“I wanna take care of you too, and that starts by you not doing everything.”

You silently watched him cut up your pancakes before placing some fruit onto them and drizzling maple syrup all over, he gave you tea to drink and pulled his chair closer to you while you ate.

He ran his fingers through your hair again as you told him all about your day before asking about his and what time he’d gotten home. He let you feed him a couple bites of food and you snagged a few extra kisses each time you lied and told him he had syrup on his face.

When you finished, he asked if you’d like a bit of real food, claiming he wanted you nice and full. You agreed, happy to eat what he’d prepared.

You were less tired now, satisfied with your belly full and sitting with your lover as he recalled a story about retrieving someone’s lost kitten in a tree. You laughed at the classic save and felt your mental load becoming lighter the more the minutes went on.

After eating, the pampering continued.

Katsuki demanded you allow him to run you a bath, and he quickly made the bathroom up with a few candles. He set up a movie for you to watch on your laptop as he came into the room with you and offered to wash your hair. You requested he get in with you then, and he obliged quickly, taking his time when it came to massaging his hands through your hair and pressing kisses against your back at every opportunity. He held you against his chest as you relaxed into him.

You honestly started to get sleepy again.

And then it was ripped away from you once more as Katsuki led you to bed, not to sleep, but to have you spread out against the mattress for him to plaster his tongue against you and demand he get his dinner now.

“Wanna take care of you.” He’d said.

He quickly had you squirming and writhing underneath his touch and the feel of his fingers inside as he worked you until completion. He sung you praises about how hard you’d been working lately, telling you how you deserved this and more, as well as making sure you knew how good you always did for him.

“One more, baby.” He begged.

One more turned into two then three, and by the time he finally lined himself up to your entrance you were spent. He worshipped your body, kneading your breasts and holding one of your hands back so you couldn’t hide how flushed your face had become from not just his compliments, but from the way he fucked you.

“Katsuki,” You moaned,“Close.” Again.

“Cum with me, baby, please.”

The movement of his hips was starting to get sloppy, but neither of you noticed through the haze. He whined in your ear as you latched onto his back with your hands and wrapped your legs around his waist, your walls squeezed him and he moaned one last time as he got lost in euphoria. He didn’t make a move to remove himself as he pressed his sweaty forehead against your own and kissed your cheek and then your neck and then your collarbone, making a line all the way down to your bellybutton.

He occupied himself with making sure you stayed awake despite your eyes being closed as you attempted to catch your breath, he sucked hard enough to leave a few marks along your chest and before you knew it you started to feel him become hard inside of you again.

Your eyes snapped open as you gave him a look.

Katsuki smirked as he rubbed your hip and stole your mouth briefly,“Gotta make sure you’re nice and full, baby, one more time f’me, please?”

“You’re insatiable.” You told him.

And yet, how could you say no to him when he looked at you that way?

It was a good thing you’d taken that nap earlier, especially now that your body would soon be aching for a different reason.

[grimmcheems]

Piltie Jinx💖🎀

I always thought it’d be interesting to see what would’ve happened if Powder had been left behind or caught at the scene when she triggered Jayce’s lab experiments, when I watched the show like a yr ago that was one of the thoughts that always lingered and I like to think she would’ve been more cut out for Piltover society than the undercity bc she was neglected so much there and I think she’d be more charming to Piltie citizens with her docile nature and intelligence.

No hate to the other characters or Vander but the girl clearly had problems and they all wanted to pretend like they didn’t see it so they could feel better about taking her in and looking after her. She was also weaker and more unexperienced than the rest but they all somehow expected her to pull her own weight in high stress situations.[This unintentionally overlapped with the trailer drop bc I was completely unaware they even released them when I was making this like two weeks ago.]

That’s a whole can of worms that I’d rather not open rn bc then it becomes a whole discussion on her trauma along with poverty and a bunch of other things having to do with the people that were around her. She is given the name Jinny bc they got tired of having to refer to her without a specific name, and becuase she begged Jayce to give her one and he blurted out the first thing he saw lmao.

Anyways. In this the kids and Vi basically leave her at the scene out of fear of getting caught and because they aren’t confident that she could have even survived the blast. They all think she’s dead and Powder experiences memory loss, so law enforcement dumps her on Jayce as a punishment and reminder of how dangerous his lab was and how lucky he is that she’s alive, but along the way Viktor sees her potential in becoming a scientific inventor of some sorts based on the items she had with her when she tried escaping along with the intelligence she displays and he adopts her and takes the load off of Jayce after his probation period form the academy. Her and Jayce have a sibling bond.

I need to draw more of this but her young self experiencing this and growing up in their thriving society and blending into their society. I added makeup on her to show how well she’s managed to integrate into Piltover society and because she indulges in the riches there so much that people even forgot she was originally form the undercity, she pretty much looks and acts like she was born there. The pinkish color she puts around her eyes is her remembering Vi and the purple comes into play later when Viktor’s sickness gets worse.

I originally only drew her as an enforcer bc I got inspired by an edited pin on Pinterest but also wanted her to be an academy student so it’s a bit of an awkward mix but I figured she probably picked up becoming an enforcer as a pastime and way to make money(idk if they make money lmao) bc she can’t rely on Viktor and Jayce to provide for her forever, and because Grayson sort of inspired her a bit (though she is subconsciously reminded of Vi when she’s around Grayson). She also has a funny dynamic with Marcus, with him already being a double crossing loser he tries to be this cool older guy around her and miserably fails every time but only because she’s still young and carefree and because he basically kept it under wraps that she was alive the whole time after finding out that she was Vander’s adoptive daughter. So I guess you could say he just has a fatherly instinct towards her but who knows.

Might draw more of this later and have better details but for now this is it oop.

[orphicdreamers-wp]

Girl Of My Dreams — Mat Barzal

Summary: In which Mat Barzal inadvertently falls for the oldest Hughes sibling and her brothers aren’t happy.

Content Warning; Taylor swift 1989 isn’t by Tay(its by reader) Mentions of University of Alabama (reader went there) Trevor Zegras being hopelessly in love with reader. Readers social media face claim is Addison Rae bc idc she’d clear as a WAG for a athlete.

Pairing: Mat Barzal x Hughes! Reader.

Mat would be lying if he said he didn’t sneak glances at the announcers box after meeting you. You had been carrying a plate of food and two margaritas to your booth where your friends sat. Tito had made a joke about you seeming familiar then the pair heard your voice and knew, “Alright now, eat up because y’all are bumming me out.” Mat’s jaw slacked, “He’d known that the Islanders had gotten a new game announcer who was a girl but he wouldn’t have known it was you. You were effortlessly stunning, you had captivated the attention of every straight man in the bar. Mat had approached you as you sat at the bar, “I’m Mat, can I buy you a drink?”

You grinned and spoke, southern accent slipping out, “I’m Y/N, I mean Barzy after the way you played last game? You better buy me a drink. ‘Yknow how many hate comments my broadcast got?” Mat grinned as the bartender approached you, “Another Corona Light and whatever she’s having on me.” You grinned sheepishly, “I’m fucking with you. I’ve heard worse.” Mat grinned, “So now would probably be a shitty time to ask you out?” You smiled at him, “Maybe not.” Mat smiled, “If I may, your not from New York are you? Where are you from?” You grinned, “I grew up in Toronto with my 3 younger brothers and moved to Alabama for college and been in New York for a few months now.” Mat grinned, “Well welcome to New York beautiful.” That was a year and a half ago. You still hadn’t told your brothers who your boyfriend was, just that his name was Mathew. Until your album release came creeping in and you wanted to go public with Mat.

Instagram

ynhughes; my album ‘1997’ is now streaming! thank you for all your support(especially the bf, ‘slut’ and ‘suburban legends’ are 4 us)

barzal97: celebrating you is my favorite pastime. i have never met someone who people gravitate towards more than you. you are by far the most wonderfully amazing woman i know. it is a privilege to say i love you🤎 this past year or so has changed my life. you make living easy and so so much better. i can’t wait to see what the future has in store for you.

trevorzegras: alexa play that should be me💔💔

ynhughes: forever in awe of you mathew barzal. amazed a gal like me is lucky enough to be adored by you🤎

oliviarodrigo; THEY HIT THE PENTAGON!! @conangray

>conangray; told you it was them i saw at radio music hall!

ny_islanders; our roman empire is all the sweet posts for to y/n today🥹🥹

sydneyemartin: brb crying. the purest people in the world. so grateful my girls get to grow up seeing a love this pure that isn’t their parents.

>ynhughes: we adore your girls more than words can express.

_quinnhughes: my biggest inspiration is out here killing it. in awe of you everyday sissy🥹 thank you for being my best friend from day 1

ynhughes: in a puddle of tears quinny. thank you for always being on my side, even when im wrong.

sabrinacarpenter; hockey players making me ugly sob wasn’t on my 2023 bingo card

elhughes; my first babies🥹 extremely emotional over you all today

>_quinnhughes: we love you momma💕

jackhughes: 1997 reasons to love my meanie head sister, i guess her bf’s alright

ynhughes: i love you little brat, come visit me and mat!!

>jackhughes: will do, sissy🫡

trevorzegras: i can’t believe she won’t date me 😞😞

>ynhughes: buck up z, your way too young for me. perfect age for @sabrinacarpenter tho!

lukehughes: the worlds best big sister came out with the best album to date

ynhughes; really feeling the hughes love train today, i need to plan for all of us to be together soon! so y’all can meet Mat!

etnow; this just in; the Hughes brothers have brought tears to my eyes supporting their sister

barzal97: the third picture is actually the most accurate representation of your sister now

>lukehughes; always messing with those darn cats! even if they are on the side of the street.

[mingirn]

only lovers alive

song mingi x reader

synopsis: you return back home after graduating college to a new relationship you have to navigate with your childhood best friend

warnings: smut, a lot of mentions of sexual acts, drinking, insecurities, jealousy, dirty talk, phone sex, sort of (very brief) exhibitionism, gender neutral reader

word count: 20,3k

notes: hello. i’ve had this sitting in my drafts for 1-2 years and saw a tweet that said ”i’d pick you up from the airport in every universe” and decided to let this out of jail bc of that. although the fic itself is inspired by this song. fic title comes from this song. i’m gonna schedule this to post while i’m asleep because i’m terrified to post after not being on here for such a long time. please be gentle with me >:(

It’s dark outside your window, but the streets are lit up by countless glimmering lights. Even though the day is turning into night, there’s still plenty of traffic. Beaming headlights join the streams of light from street lamps, and it’s just your apartment that is missing a glow from a lamp on its windowsill. You’ve got all yours packed up and sent away already, and you’re taking in the city for the last time.

”Are you going to miss it?” Mingis's voice is soft on the other end of the phone. You’ve got him on speaker, lying right next to you.

”I guess, yeah. It’s been nice, even though I haven’t spent much time exploring or enjoying the city.”

It’s true. You’ve just finished your last semester and finally graduated after moving hours away from your hometown to go to your dream school. It feels like eons since then, when you had to say tearful goodbyes to your friends and family and settle down in a cramped little dorm room. You’d been lucky enough to get student housing in your last year, a bigger place where you’d been living for the past two semesters. This city wasn’t just a stark difference to your hometown, it was the definition of complete and total opposite.

The town you grew up in was the type to hide, not really forgotten, just barely there. Small and tucked away between long stretches of forests and fields. You’d be blessed to live there your whole life, yet lucky to get away. You’d go home to visit during summer break and just bask in how simple life was back home, but beyond all, how it was still home to all the things you held most dear. Top of that list: Mingi.

”You’ll always be able to go back, maybe we can go during the summer and you can take me to that Chinese place you’ve talked so much about,” Mingi says. He’s starting to sound a little sleepy, and it’s a reminder that you should probably get to sleep soon. You’ve got an early flight to catch, then it’s just a span of a few hours separating you and Mingi. He’ll be coming to pick you up, so you suppose you better let him go too so he can get some sleep.

”You know I’d love that,” you smile, and slump down on your bed. ”I think we should head to bed though, maybe we should leave this future talk for some other time.”

He hums in agreement, and the line goes quiet for a minute. You can hear his breathing through the speaker, slow and steady. When you close your eyes it’s almost like he’s here.

”Hey, uh,” he begins, and he swallows audibly. ”Do you think it’s gonna be weird?”

Ah, there it is. You’ve almost been waiting, expecting, him to ask it.

”No, I don’t… It’s not like we haven’t seen each other since I moved away. We’ve spent almost all of the last three summers together, right?” you reason. It’s not really what Mingi is referring to, but you have to start somewhere. Soften him up, reassure him.

”Well yeah, yeah, I know. It’s just different because we weren’t doing those things then, and now it’s… well, different.”

”Mingi,” you say with firmness in your voice. ”It would only be different if you said and did all those things just because it was over the phone. If you didn’t mean any of it.”

Mingi takes another moment of silence, and you can imagine that he’s probably chewing nervously on his bottom lip. It makes you a bit nervous as well, the fact that you can’t see him. You’d always been so good at reading his face and figuring out what he was thinking. You need that more than ever now, the ability to read him, because so much has changed.

”I’ve meant every word I’ve ever said,” he says, and something about the words feels so heavy and serious, and he seems to realize it too. ”I really, really want to fuck you, not just over the phone.”

Mingis voice is normal when he says it, not a hint of underlying desire or desperation, but the words themselves send a flash of warmth through your body. It’s become regular at this point, this shift in your friendship. The first time you guys crossed over that invisible line had been under the influence of alcohol, you had come home drunk from the bar after celebrating good test results with some friends and Mingi had been celebrating getting a new job with your mutual friends back at home. It just sort of happened, you dialing his number and gushing about how much you missed him. The conversation went on for half an hour when you started trying to undress from your bar clothes and Mingi had asked what you were doing. He’d asked about what you were wearing, and what color your underwear was, then he informed you that he was just in his boxers, and for some reason you found yourself telling him about how sexually frustrated you had been lately in hopes that he’d offer help. And he did.

That first night it was quick and needy, neither of you initiated it, it just happened in perfect symbiosis. You checked the call log the day after and saw that you guys had been on the phone for hours, the last of which you had both eventually fallen asleep on call until your phone battery died. Tentatively, you had called him during the afternoon and asked him if he had any recollection of yesterday night's events. His voice had been raspy and breathy, throat raw from drinking and moaning, and you can still remember every inflection in the tone of his voice when he asked if you had liked it. That had been the start of it all, of an almost full year of phone sex, sexting, and swapping pictures.

”I’m glad to hear that,” you say, trying to sound just as casual even though you can feel butterflies swirl through your stomach. ”I really can’t wait, Mingi. Can’t wait to fuck you and can’t wait to see you, I’ve missed you so much.”

”I’ve missed you too… Get some sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow at the airport, just look for a handsome tall guy!”

You fall asleep with Mingis laugh ringing in your ears.

The next day, your plane lands at a far emptier airport than the one you’d set off from. It’s early in the day and the sun is high in the sky, occasionally passing behind weak and thin clouds. The air is so different out here than in the big city. The sounds are clearer, the people are kinder, and everything feels so much more simple here.

You sit on a hard airport bench and wait as your phone connects to the internet after having been turned off, seeing all your missed messages coming in. You’re just about to type up a response to Mingis ’You there?’ when a call from him pops up on the screen.

”Yeah, I’m here!” you chirp into the phone.

”’Here’ where? I’m just walking around and-”

”Mingi, you idiot, turn around!” you call out loud enough for him to hear it on the phone and in person, though he’s quite a distance away from you. You could recognize the back of his head anywhere, even though it’s short and bleached blond right now, it’s undeniably Mingi.

He spins around and spots you right away, making eye contact with you across the big, open space. Seeing Mingi in person for the first time in months washes away all nervosity, all the same as it stirs up a new sense of anticipation. You jump to your feet and you're both rushing towards each other, crashing together in a tight hug.

You find yourself closing your eyes, tucking your head into his chest, and inhaling his scent until it makes you lightheaded. He smells just like your Mingi, that same cologne he’s worn since he was 15, the same laundry detergent, and he smells faintly of sunscreen. It’s not the first time you’ve hugged him, not by a long shot, but it feels like the first time you’ve held him like this. Your arms around his middle, taking note of how big he feels in your hold, and you’re thinking about every little detail you’ve missed out on by being away from him. His warmth, his touch, his size, his voice.

”Hi there,” he murmurs, and his voice is so different up close. It’s deeper and darker, it reverberates through his chest. ”Was the flight okay?”

Something about the conversation he’s initiating makes you feel like now is the appropriate time to pull away, and that in turn has you questioning how appropriate that hug had been on your part. Mingi, however, feels cool as ice when he grabs hold of your bag and slings his arm around your shoulder to guide you out of the airport.

”Uh,” you begin, feeling a bit stumped. You continue, ”It was as good as you can expect, but the food sucked, I can’t wait to get home and eat my mom's cooking.”

”Tired of ramen and takeout?” he asks, chuckling.

”You could say that.”

You try to move on past your own weirdness. Mingi is normal and there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be as well. Still, there’s a sort of buzz igniting under your skin from being in Mingi's presence again. You suppose it’s always like that, this initial excitement of seeing each other again and getting to update each other on all the things you’ve been up to while knowing you’ve got all the time in the world to hang out. But there’s this nagging voice at the back of your head that is frantically going through all the conversations you’ve had with Mingi on the phone. Late at night, underneath your covers, with Mingi moaning and speaking filth on the speaker. It doesn’t match up with the Mingi in front of you, the Mingi that has been your closest friend for years, and it makes you feel electric.

Mingi pops his trunk open and you load your bags into his car, then get inside and start the half-hour drive back to your hometown.

You only dare to steal little glances over at him. Watching him in the rearview mirror, seeing the sun set his brown eyes ablaze and paint his skin golden. His fingers strum along to the song on the radio on the steering wheel, he’s wearing a single ring on his right hand and his skin is already tanned even though summer has just begun. It’s almost like you’re meeting him all over again with the way you’re soaking in every inch of him, yet it’s forcefully clear to you that none of this is new. Perhaps that would have made it easier if he had just been a stranger where the slate was clean, but this is Mingi and there are things you’re both gonna need to navigate.

You’d foolishly expected that he’d lean in and steal at least a kiss but perhaps more right away, when you were still parked at the airport. More accurately, you had hoped so. It’s all you guys had been talking about for the past months, all the ways you’d want to ravage each other when you finally were face to face again. Apparently, Mingi thinks that can wait.

So you turn your head away, try not to look over at him or imagine his hand holding your thigh instead of the steering wheel. Instead, you focus your attention on the trees outside, and Talking Heads on the radio.

”Do you still like this song?” Mingi asks you. He takes a turn, and this is where the road gets lonesome and there’s more nature than buildings. The song playing is ’This Must be the Place’, and you know Mingi is asking because you’d been the one that bought him this CD for his birthday.

”I could never outgrow Talking Heads, you know that,” you smile at him. You’re starting to settle in now. The fields and the trees are so familiar, the air smells like your childhood, and Mingi is humming along to music you’ve listened to for years. You can do this, it’s not going to be weird, it’s still your best friend Mingi.

The ride back home starts to fill up with idle chatter. You’d think that you’d have run out of topics to talk about by now, seeing as you’d talk on the phone almost every day, but you still find new things to bring up. He parks his car in the driveway outside your house and helps you carry your luggage, all while giggling and joking with you.

It’s only been a year since you’ve been home, you hadn’t been able to come during Christmas, but that’s the longest stretch of time you’ve spent away from this very house. Not much has changed, your parents have kept your room exactly like you had left it, but something just feels different. It feels smaller, or you feel bigger. You catch a glimpse of Mingi in your doorway as you start unpacking your bags and for a second your abdomen flutters when you notice just how much of the door opening he can shield with his body. He has filled out a lot, and this shouldn’t be a surprise because you’d noticed it plenty of times before when you came home to visit. You suppose it’s not a surprise, but it’s the first time you’ve felt appreciation for it.

Of course, you had fantasized about his body since you entered his whole thing, and he had sent a lot of pictures that had helped you out with that, but seeing it in person is an entirely new ordeal. You feel your face heat up as your mind flicks through memories of pictures he’s sent you of himself naked, knowing what he looks like underneath his clothes. You have to wonder if Mingis mind is running in the same circles, if he’s as hyperaware of your skin as you are of his, and how he’s able to contain himself as well as he does if that’s the case. You hardly can’t.

”So,” Mingi begins. Your stomach lurches and plunges every time he pauses between words, fearing what may come next. Maybe this is when he breaks your heart and tells you he can’t do what you’ve been speaking about, that it’s just not the same when you’re face to face. You try to seem unbothered by your racing thoughts and decide to hear him out first. He continues, ”Uh, what now? Do you need any more help?”

”No, I’m all good, Mingi,” You’re rifling through clothes and belongings, lining them up on your bed. You can physically feel him behind you in your room as if he’s radiating this electricity and warmth that has your skin tingling.

”Maybe I should get going then. You know, to let you settle in.” You can hear him shift his weight between his feet. It suddenly feels unbearably awkward and strained between you two, and you know that if you keep your back to him it will only get worse. You need to face this head-on, cut through the tension, or at least pretend like the heavy atmosphere isn’t weighing you down.

You don’t want to let Mingi leave like this, without either one of you addressing things. If he leaves like this, with things unspoken and forgotten, the next time you see him it will be like nothing has ever happened. He’ll be right next to you but somehow further away than ever.

You guess you shouldn’t have expected to jump each other's bones the second you saw each other. Maybe that was unrealistic, but it had just felt that way on the phone. You suppose this is more natural, maybe you just have to stick it out until you’re used to being in the same room.

This Mingi in front of you is an entire world different than the one you’d grown up with. Despite the fact that everything is the same, that he’s in your childhood room and the sun is shining through the window just the same. The beam of light illuminates him directly, making his tan skin radiate.

You’re admiring him when he steps forward and closes the distance between you. Only the birds are singing outside your window, but in the total silence of your room, you can hear Mingi suck in a shaky breath before he leans forward and kisses you.

Time stills, the earth feels like it’s tilting or tipping, as if the very makeup of the universe is now irreversibly changed. Mingis mouth is warm and gentle but he’s keeping a pressure that has your mind whirling, just the way he’s kissing you with so much intent. You’re both breathing heavily and the air escaping his nose is so sweet that you can’t stop yourself from inhaling as much as possible, dizzying yourself to consume every bit of him that you can.

He’s already close, but he shuffles even nearer without breaking apart from the kiss. You can now feel his body against yours and Mingi moves his hands up to hold each side of your head, keeping you in place as he kisses and licks into your mouth. For some reason you’re so very present inside your head, thinking about each little detail of the way he kisses, reminding yourself to remember this moment forever.

You can feel when he starts to pull away so you chase after him, deepening the kiss for another second before he parts from it entirely. He’s just as breathless as you are, and there’s something in Mingi's eyes that you’ve never seen before. He focuses on your lips and leans in for another kiss that ends a moment too quickly.

Mingis hand ruffles your hair up, and his voice is laced with a laugh when he says a drawn-out ’bye’ and leaves your room.

You can feel your heartbeat in your throat, can hear the blood pumping and wooshing from it all the way through your body, throughout each delicate vein in your ears. Your lips are tingling when you reach up to touch them, almost in disbelief at the fact that Mingi had just been kissing you right there. Your mouth is slick with his spit, and your finger moves cardinally to gather it up and plunge into your mouth so you can savor it.

You fall down on the bed, staring up at your ceiling, and close your eyes to relive the kiss as you imagine what it will be like the next time you see Mingi.

Almost a full week passes until you see him again. Your family practically swarms you for the first few days, your parents being overjoyed to have you back invite your grandparents to welcome you home and your favorite aunt comes to see you with your two young cousins. You get unpacked quickly enough, when you manage to find time between family visits and long drawn-out meals, and before you know it five days have passed. Mingi stays busy too though, he sends a few occasional texts about work and though he lives right across from you, you never even catch a glimpse of him.

Sometimes you lay in your bed at night and feel your heart race up at the thought that there is only a few yards of grass and asphalt road between the two of you. It’s a massive change from the last three years when you had been miles and miles apart. Now, it feels almost like you can sense him. Just across the street, breathing and shuffling in bed. You can picture him so well, long eyelashes resting against his cheekbone, his skin flushed from sleep, his long limbs tangled up in a thin blanket. Your hand slips inside your underwear with a hot fire fueled by embarrassment and insecurity burning in your stomach.

Your imagination moves between recollections of words he’s spoken and pictures he’s sent, to the image of him in his bed right now. He’s so very close, but so very unaware of how much that precise fact affects you. Each day away from him only tightens the strings in your body and you grow more frustrated that you haven’t actualized any of the promises you’d made on the phone. At the same time, you find yourself quietly thankful for the imposed distance. Mingi isn’t even here, but he still has such an impact on you that it has you rushedly getting yourself off with your face buried in your pillow to keep quiet.

You’re so deeply affected by all this, while Mingi is fine. You’re the one busy, but when Mingi comes home from work and has some downtime he doesn’t even text to see if you can spend time. Seemingly, he doesn’t care to find out when you can see each other again.

On day six you’re sitting in your garden with your mom and aunt. Your cousins are playing in the grass in front of you and calling for your attention. The sun is high and hot in the sky, and Mingis car has been home for a few hours. You’ve checked your phone multiple times to make sure it’s not on silent, or if you’ve somehow missed a text from him, but it’s been quiet all day.

Then, a car pulls up to Mingi's house. You recognize it in an instant, it’s Yunhos old Camaro that he had inherited from his dad when he got his license, the same car he’d posted a thousand pictures of on social media. He had even let you drive it for an entire block two summers ago. The paint job has sparkles of blue in it that glimmer in the sun, and you somehow feel like it’s taunting you. The front door of Mingis house opens and he emerges in a pair of short shorts and a t-shirt that he has cut the sleeves off of, and he’s got a pair of sunglasses sitting on his face. A feeling worse than rejection rushes through you when Yunho rolls down the window and waves to you, finally prompting Mingi to also notice you sitting there.

Mingi raises his hand to wave but the movement is cut shorter than Yunho's enthusiastic full-bodied gesture. Mingi gets in the car and the engine roars as Yunho drives away. The warm air feels bittersweet when it’s filled by the smell of exhaust fumes.

That night you’re lying in bed and you’re inching close to sleep when your room lights up for a second. In the haze of sleep, you assume it to be the headlights of a car, but it happens again until the stream of light persists entirely and you finally get up to look outside your window. It’s clear instantly where it’s coming from because Mingi is hanging halfway out his window with a flashlight in his hand.

Though he’s quite a distance away, you can see him well enough to tell that he’s shirtless and his hair is messy, but your focus is pulled from that to trying to decode what gesture he’s making with his hand. You shrug, and he disappears from his window for a few seconds before he pops back with his phone and starts pointing to it.

You search for your phone and open it to find 4 missed calls from Mingi. His contact picture pops up on your phone and you hurry to answer.

”What the fuck, Mingi?” you whisper into your phone.

”Were you sleeping?” he chuckles, and you can see his shoulders shake with laughter. Every little bit of this makes you want to hang up, or scream, or march right over to his house and have a go at him. How dare he go days without speaking to you, then call you up in the middle of the night and laugh as if you haven’t been in agony this past week? How dare he kiss you breathless in this very room and make no attempts at reliving it?

”No, I was just about to fall asleep!” you huff.

”Why are you whispering?” Mingi asks.

”Because my parents are asleep, dumbass.”

”Hm,” he ponders. ”So that would be a no if I asked you to sneak out and come over?”

You hope he doesn’t hear your breath hitch at the thought that he wants you to come over in the middle of the night.

”Of course, it’s a no! My mom is already peeved because of Yunho coming by earlier today. She hates how loud that car is. She’s gonna think you’re a bad influence, riding around in that and making me sneak out.”

”Imagine her reaction when she finds out you drove that car before you got your license, and I wasn’t even there. It was all Yunho,” Mingi jokes.

”Shut up! God, my mom has been warning me about him for years. She used to be convinced I was going to end up with him and it was her biggest nightmare,” you say. Your window is cracked to let in some air now that it’s cooler outside. The night is quiet, and all you can hear is Mingi breathing at the other end of the call. It’s quiet for a moment, and you can see that Mingis face is scrunched up.

”You and Yunho?” he scoffs. ”Why would she think that?”

”I don’t know, it’s not like she had any reason to. She’s just weird like that, you know how my mom is.”

It’s silent yet again, Mingi just sighing.

Your stomach does a somersault when a thought strikes you and you have to ask, ”You’re not jealous, are you?”

”Jealous? Of- of Yunho?” Mingi laughs breathlessly. You just hum, and you can’t take your eyes off of him where he’s sitting in his window. Mingi sucks in a deep breath and regains his voice, ”I have no reason to be jealous of him when I’m the one with your nudes in my phone.”

Something about that makes you curl up on yourself, suddenly feeling very shy that you’re only in your underwear and a thin old tank top. It brings up another thought that has plagued you. The pictures you’d sent were all meticulously posed and manipulated to be as appealing as possible. It had been your body, yes, but the most perfect version of it possible. Here, in your pajamas with your skin glistening from sweat, hunched over yourself, you hardly think Mingi can find any resemblance between the picture-perfect version and the one in front of his eyes.

”Oh yeah?” you murmur. You can’t let him see you falter, can’t let him call your bluff. You straighten your back and pretend to be more interested in something under your nails. ”You could have a lot more than just pictures, you know.”

Mingi lets out a noise that’s somewhere between a moan and a breath, just audible enough for his phone to pick it up.

”Fuck, look at me,” he says, and you do. You just do.

Mingi stands up, keeping his phone pressed to his ear with one hand while his free hand moves in a long, slow caressing motion down his upper body. It’s your turn to feel jealous now, stupidly jealous of Mingis own hands for getting to touch him. His fingers reach the waistband of his boxers and you nervously stop breathing as you imagine them dipping inside. His hand moves just a bit further down though, where Mingi wraps his entire palm around his dick.

”Can you see that?” he asks. He uses his hand to move his hard cock under the light material of his underwear, making sure to jut his hips out towards the moonlight so you can see every second of his show.

”I can see you, oh my god. Are you out of your mind? Mingi, what if-”

”No one’s around, no one’s gonna see except for you,” he assures you. You lick your lips, thinking back to what Mingis mouth had tasted like.

”You’re crazy,” you whisper to him.

”You make me crazy,” he says with a smirk. ”Would you lift your shirt up for me?”

Your fingers have dug into your thigh without you noticing until now that Mingi is directing attention to your body. There’s so much tension inside your body that your breathing feels labored as if there are coils fastened inside you and everything Mingi says and does tighten up every bit of your internal structure. He has you feeling lightheaded with words alone.

Sensing your hesitance, Mingi speaks again. ”You don’t have to, I just really want to see you.”

The last sentence has you moving without thinking, getting up on your knees on the seat under your window. You take a quick glance around the street and in the windows of nearby neighbors. The whole world is asleep, only you and Mingi are awake.

You use your free hand to pull your tank top as high as possible, exposing your stomach and chest to Mingi who has stopped touching himself and is keeping razor-sharp focus on you.

”You-… Thank you, you’re gorgeous, do I ever tell you that?” Mingi’s voice is low and hushed. Until now he has sounded loud and confident, and if you didn’t know any better you would think that Mingi has gotten shy. He probably didn’t expect you to follow through with his request.

You haven’t spoken in minutes and you’re not sure if you could make any noise without it coming out as a whine, but luckily Mingi speaks up once more.

”Can you get into bed? I’m gonna lay down, please join me, please, would you touch yourself with me?” Mingi pleas. He waits a second for the words to register, for you to spring into action before he does so himself. Part of you wants to stay and keep drinking in the sight of his body, but the expectations of what he’s going to have you doing has you obeying his words.

”I’m in bed now,” your voice is still hushed, and there’s a layer of excitement in it that brings on a wave of embarrassment.

”I am too, I’m gonna- I’m taking my underwear off. It’s been so long, I just need to…” Mingi trails off. His end of the call is muffled, and a little distorted, and you can hear him shuffling to get his boxers off.

”It’s been so long since what?” you ask to clarify.

”Since we last did this, since I last came…” he answers. Fuck.

”Have you not been cumming since we last had phone sex?”

Mingi quiets down for a second before he lets out a breathy laugh.

”Have you?” he asks with a tone in his voice you can’t make out, but it has your cheeks heating up and your entire body running ice cold.

You turn silent now, but it’s clear from how Mingi is laughing under his breath that he doesn’t need an answer from you to know the truth.

”Oh my god. Well, tell me then, how many times have you made yourself cum since our last call?” Mingi asks. He sounds so cocky, so full of himself that you don’t know whether to roll your eyes or shove your hand between your legs and revel in this stupidly hot version of Mingi.

”Maybe two or three times,” you mumble, hoping that he doesn’t catch it.

”Let's just pretend I believe that. What have you been thinking about?”

You whine, feeling your entire body surge with shame and humiliation. Despite all of it, you’ve bunched up your blanket between your legs and without thinking about it you’ve started rutting against it slowly.

”Mingi, please…”

”Tell me.”

”I think about you. I always do. I’ve been thinking about that kiss, and-…” Your thought is interrupted by a sound on the other end of the line, along with Mingis soft hums. ”Mingi, are you jacking off to me telling you I fantasize about you?”

”I’m jacking off to your voice,” he says so matter of fact it knocks the air out of you. He continues, ”The fact that it’s about me only makes it better.”

”Oh my god,” you sigh, closing your eyes and letting your hand move where you need it most. Mingis voice is sweet and gentle as he moans with each stroke, and his phone is so close to his mouth you’re tricked into believing he’s right next to you, breathing and huffing.

”I wish you were here right now,” he says, sort of under his breath, a little quiet. It feels a little secretive when he says it, like when you were younger and he would have you turn your back to him as he did the same. With your backs pressed together, he would tell you all his deepest secrets, and when you’d turn around again you would both pretend like nothing had happened. It’s a memory you have replayed a lot more recently than ever before, just due to how similar it feels to this arrangement you have with Mingi. As long as you aren’t faced with each other, as long as your backs are turned you can do and say whatever you want.

Instead of sulking about it, you force yourself to play along.

”I do too, I need you so bad,” you whisper, and none of it is a lie.

”Need to see you cum for me, fuck, I need you to make me cum,” he moans. It echoes through your entire head, that moan and those words, and it has you rolling onto your back and pulling your underwear down your legs so you can touch yourself properly.

”You’ll make me cum just by saying that, Mingi,” you say, pathetically so. Something about Mingi has you reaching the edge faster than anything else.

”Fuck, me too. Just hearing you say my name is enough to make me cum right now. I’ve never felt this fucking good,” Mingi groans.

”Mingi,” you let out again, out of pure instinct. ”Mingi, please give me permission to cum, I need it, please!”

He does, in a string of words and breathless moans he allows you to cum with him. Your orgasm rolls through your entire body in a blinding flash, and by the time it’s over you can’t gauge if multiple minutes or just a few seconds have passed. Your phone is pressed so tight to your ear that pearls of sweat coat the screen.

”You there?” Mingis voice is raspy, all fucked out.

You come to, clearing your throat, ”I’m here, sorry. Holy shit.”

”What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks. You don’t have time to feel overjoyed or even finish your train of thought (of oh, fuck, it’s finally happening) before Mingi continues, ”Yunho’s throwing this… thing, at his house. There’s gonna be a barbeque, we’re gonna get drinks, and he says it’s going to be chill but you know how he is. It’s gonna end up being a party by the end of the night.”

You’re staring up at the glow-in-the-dark star stickers Mingi helped you set up when you were 15, and the answer is so obvious you don’t have to think about it.

”Yeah, I’ll go with you,” you respond.

”Well… I’ll take you, but maybe we shouldn’t make it too obvious when we’re there. All of our friends will be there, maybe it’s best to lay low?”

You clench your eyes shut. It makes you want to scream so loud it’d pierce your wall and travel across the street and through to his bedroom. A week ago he had been so concerned about things turning weird between you two and you’d written it off as a worry about your friendship, about how things would change after all the words and naked pictures you had exchanged. You hadn’t considered for a second that Mingi would be concerned for his reputation.

”Yeah,” you mutter. ”No, yeah, you’re right.”

”Okay then,” he says, so cheerily that you feel shame wash over you. ”I’ll pick you up tomorrow at five then?”

You hum in response and swap goodbyes before he ends the call and the beeps ring through your ear.

Your sleep that night is weighed down by a worry you can't dispel even after you wake up. You hardly feel rested, and your parent's voices barely register when they speak to you at breakfast. A lot of thoughts linger in your head, unshakeable doubts about whether things with Mingi are really going to be as okay as you had thought when you were in school.

Things had felt so much simpler then, like this steadfast belief that it would be just as it had always been. You had returned every single summer and were able to pick back up your friendship with Mingi with no trouble, despite all the months you had spent apart.

At least you would get to see all your friends again. Summer being in full swing would mean that everyone would be at their happiest, most free, possibly stupid, and risky behavior.

The day passes by sluggishly, you're merely counting down the hours. You try to read a book while lying in the sun in your backyard, but find that the words just flow together. You check your phone and see the half-hour call in your log from yesterday night, you’re just staring at Mingi's name and contact picture. It's just letters and numbers on a screen, but it's also a journal of your entire relationship. You can go back and see every single one, remember where things had started and where things had escalated. It took you weeks to send the first suggestive pictures to each other and they had been modest back then. A picture of your dark silhouette in the mirror, and Mingi replying with a blurry picture of his thighs in the dark of his room.

It's just another reminder that what you've got with Mingi is all contained in this piece of technology you can fit in your hand. Nothing is real or tangible, except for a few minutes of kissing. That's all you've got that counts as something; Mingi kissing you in your childhood bedroom for a few very good minutes before departing and ignoring you for days.

The kiss lives vividly in your head as you shower and get dressed.

You're sitting on your windowsill and watching the clock tick closer to five when the front door of Mingis house opens and he walks outside. He's got a pair of sunglasses on that he lifts off of his nose to peek up at your window, and when he spots you he waves and motions for you to come down.

You float down the stairs and out your door. The air is light and breezy outside despite the way the sun has been beaming down all day. Mingi is dressed in yet another shirt that shows off his arms, the slight tan line from his work t-shirt that he tries to even out is obvious to you up close and you squeeze his arm to tease him for it.

Both of you sit down in his car. The windows are rolled down to let air flow through and Mingi sets the car stereo to a low volume so you can faintly hear Tears for Fears play in the background. The engine hums pleasantly in comparison to Yunhos Camaro when Mingi starts the car. You watch his hands, waiting for him to shift the stick into first gear, but it doesn't happen.

Instead, time moves in both directions, very slowly but all too quickly as he wraps his hand around the back of your head and pulls you in for a kiss. Every single thought that has plagued you throughout the day vanishes the second his lips are on yours. It's replaced by the fact that these same lips had moaned your name less than 24 hours ago, that he had sounded so desperate when he told you he wished you were there.

Mingi deepens the kiss this time, letting it go on for longer than last time. When you have to part from it to take a breath Mingi trails his kisses from the corner of your mouth to under your ear. The kisses are chaste, barely there, but every single one leaves your skin tingling.

He doesn't return to your lips, he pulls back and regains his breath and his smile is so cocky when he reverses the car out of the driveway. You can't help but giggle then, and Mingi turns up the volume to let the music blare through the entire car. This is the Mingi you've missed, the one that drives through your neighborhood and ignores all the grouchy people who turn around and stare disgruntedly. He sings along too loudly, straining his voice to hit notes that sound awful even though you know that he's a great singer.

Everything feels as it always has when you pull up to Yunhos house and there are cars parked up and down the street. Mingi parks and as you're unbuckling your belt you see him look in the rearview mirror, grooming his hair and then wiping his mouth to remove your lip balm. It stings for a second but you don't let it persist. You just get out of his car and the two of you walk towards Yunhos backyard.

There is a voice in the back of your head that reminds you of the distance Mingi puts between you, this very conscious measurement that would leave no doubt for all your friends that you're strictly platonic. You push that away too, and make way towards all your old school friends instead. Seonghwa is the first to pull you into a hug, and it's all you need for the bubble to burst on all your worries.

Soon enough you're all laughing, the backyard is quickly filling with people and Yunho is having a hard time keeping up with all the people demanding a burger. The afternoon air smells just like high school, and the cheap alcohol mixed in the punch is just like the one you used to drink back then. The only difference is that everyone looks so much older, and the conversations have switched from homework, crushes, and drama to future plans and jobs.

"So what now?" Seonghwa asks you when a few hours have passed and the sun is setting. It's not getting dark, the sun is just changing from blue to lilac. You turn to him, feeling the way the alcohol has affected your vision, the way it's swimming a bit.

"What now?" you ask.

"I mean, are you back for good? Are you gonna settle down, get a job, do the whole small-town thing?" he jokes, but the question he poses is a valid one.

"Hm," you ponder for a second, looking up at the sky as if an answer is gonna rain down on you. "I guess I don't know. I need to get a job, but I'll give myself the summer to figure it out. It feels like the last one before things truly.. you know.."

"Change," Seonghwa interjects. "Before we truly grow up."

The conversation quiets for a moment before you both burst into laughter.

"Jesus, we always get so somber, don't we?" Seonghwa laughs.

"Remember prom? We went out for some air and you couldn't stop talking about the universe because you looked up at the stars for a second," you say.

"I don't remember that, I just remember Hongjoong going off on me because I teared up and ruined the makeup he spent an hour doing on me," Seonghwa recollects. You could remember that. You also remembered the eyeshadow Hongjoong had smeared across Mingis's eyelid, the messy dark brown he had lined his eyes with because Mingi refused to stay still for too long.

None of you had brought any dates that night, your entire friend group had decided to just go together and spend the night dancing with each other. When you had gotten a dance with Mingi towards the end of the night his makeup had started running and you had brushed your thumb under his eye. Nothing about that action or the dance, or the night as a whole, had been close to romantic. He had just been Mingi, the same Mingi as always, he walked you home that night with his arm around your shoulder just like he had every day after school.

It's only with the wisdom of hindsight you can identify little actions to speak otherwise. You can't recall what Sans eyes had looked like when you danced with him, but you remember in great detail how the lights had twinkled in Mingi's irises. All you remember from your dance with Wooyoung is that his hands had been too sweaty to hold, but you can go back in your memory to when Mingi had leaned his head on your shoulder and sang along softly to the song that was playing.

"What is it like when you talk to Mingi?" Seonghwa pulls you out of your thoughts. You don't know when your eyes close, but when you open them again the sky is starting to burn a vibrant pink.

"Well... I don't know. It's good. We talk about all sorts of things," you try to sound matter of fact, very casual. Reminding yourself of Mingis words, lay low.

"Yeah, you must," Seonghwa remarks, a chuckle sounding through his voice. It has you turning to him, eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

"Meaning?" you question.

"Just that there must be substance to your conversations, seeing as Mingi excuses himself from every night out when you call," he says.

"Yeah," you attempt to brush it off as a meaningless piece of information, but it feels like a lot more. You didn't know Mingi would rush home to talk to you.

Seonghwa hums, and your eyes are pulled to the ground where you've been digging your heel into the grass.

"I guess you guys have always been closer than the rest of us. Living across from each other, being childhood friends, all that," he says. There's no hidden meaning or intention behind his words, you know Seonghwa well enough to deduct that, but it still feels like he's trying to catch you out.

"Yeah," you repeat, absent-mindedly. "Suppose so."

Seonghwas mouth twitches a little as if he wants to say something else, but he keeps it shut. You're thankful, because even if he can read between the lines of your and Mingi's strange relationship, the fact that he doesn't say it out loud serves as reassurance to you. It's the same thin veil that you and Mingi drape yourselves in. Unspoken meaning unchanged.

A friend comes over and offers to top off your and Seonghwas glasses, and you decide to get up on your feet and move on from the sudden gloom that took over.

The music is loud and the air gets chillier as the clouds twist amongst pink and orange. You’re talking to Yunho and telling him the story about your mom's disapproval of his car when he notices your shoulders quiver with the drop in temperature. He fetches one of his flannels for you, helping you thread your arms through and telling you that you need another drink to warm up. Yunho makes you something stronger than the diluted punch, and it goes to your head with haste.

It does warm you up, and it pulls you from reality a little. It’s easier to laugh along with Yunhos jokes this way, without thinking about the tension between you and Mingi. It feels good and safe to just be worriless, to feel the wind in your hair and be surrounded by the sound of your friend's voices mixing together.

Your legs are getting wobblier, but Yunho catches you before you fall and he lets you stay posted against him.

You’re just watching the conversation your friends are having without joining in when you feel two hands on your waist. You don’t have to look back to know that it’s Mingi. The smell of his cologne is familiar enough to alert you.

”I think I better get them home,” Mingis voice is warm and round behind your ear. For a second you feel a little bitter, you kind of want to shake his hands off of you and scoff at him because he’s intervening just when you’re truly starting to enjoy yourself without spending a single thought on him. Is that not what he wanted? You’re keeping the secret, you’re not drawing any eyes towards you two. He’s doing that all on his own.

Had it been three years ago, you think your friends had been protesting your leave. You’re all grown up now though, and everyone is understanding when Mingi wraps his arm around your waist, and you both wave goodbye.

Mingi helps you into his car. Tears for Fears is still playing when he turns the car on and starts driving, and you feel a sort of agitation that you can’t place. He doesn’t speak a single word for a minute or two, and the mood inside the car is unbearable.

”I don’t think anyone could tell,” you say. Mingis face is bare of emotion, and you find yourself with an urge to placate him. ”We did well, don’t you think? I didn’t make anything obvious.”

You don’t know what response you expect to get from Mingi, but there’s a palpable shock within you when he pulls the car over to the side of the road and turns to you.

”What?” you ask. Mingis eyes soften when they flick over your entire body, to then end up at your face.

”Did you really.. worry about that?” Mingi wonders softly.

”Huh? I thought-… Yes, I worried about it, because you did. I mean, you told me we needed to lay low.” You’re starting to get thoroughly confused and frustrated.

”I know, but I didn’t think you’d drink so much and cuddle up to Yunho because of it,” Mingi says, his tone quickly working up to a sharpness you’ve never heard in him before.

”Drink so much?” you gasp. ”I was just having fun! It had nothing to do with you! Not everything is about you, Mingi, or about us. I don’t worry about it as much as you do. Believe it or not.”

”I don’t worry about it,” Mingi sounds accused.

”Clearly you do though. You take me to this party and give me instructions on how to behave, then spend the whole time ignoring me. Just like you did all of last week. Clearly, you have to feel ashamed, or- or…” you trail off, feeling your voice crack. Mingi sucks in a deep breath and leans closer, putting his hand on your knee.

”Please,” he urges, and there’s something in his voice that breaks your heart. ”Please, don’t think I could ever be ashamed of you.”

”Then what, Mingi?” you ask quietly, starting to feel yourself break now. Tears are starting to well up and cloud your vision. You continue, ”Do you just not want me? I get if it’s different when we’re face to face, I know it might not be what you expected, I understand if you don’t find me-”

”Stop it!” Mingi is almost shouting now, startling you. ”It’s nothing like that, you have to believe me. Stop saying these things.”

His hand lifts from your knee to hold your face where he wipes away a tear from your cheek. You don’t know what to say, even though there’s a part of you that wants to keep insisting. Mingi isn’t offering any kind of explanation or even an excuse, he’s not saying anything to quell your worries, and his hands on you are not enough.

”Kiss me. Please,” you whisper. There’s more you want to say, like prove it, prove that you want me. Kiss me and mean it.

”I’m not going to kiss you when you’re drunk and I’m sober,” Mingi says, offering up a solemn smile.

”I’m not though,” you argue. This entire conversation has been sobering. You’re still tipsy, your head feels a little heavy and your vision is still floating but you think you can blame it on your tears as much as you can blame it on alcohol.

”Well, you’re drunk enough that I don’t feel comfortable kissing you.” Mingis thumb strokes over your cheek to comfort you. It’s enough to calm you a little, because that you can take. You don’t think you’d want to kiss him either if the roles had been reversed.

”Okay,” you mutter. ”Are you sure it’s not because you don’t want me?”

Mingi sighs, ”We’ll talk about it tomorrow when you’re not-”

”I’m not drunk, Mingi.”

”Okay, okay. But I still want to do this tomorrow, when we’re both thinking clearly. We’re just misunderstanding each other, and this isn’t how I wanted it to go,” he tells you. He leans forward and kisses the top of your head instead, just above your hairline. It must be calculated on his part, to kiss you where your skin can’t feel the warmth of his lips.

”Okay,” you say again. This time Mingi lets out a little laugh at your dissatisfaction.

He starts the car back up and takes off to go home, leaving his hand on your thigh throughout the drive. When he pulls up to his house and you get out of the car your legs feel like jelly, and you realize you’re probably not as sober as you’d like to believe.

”Mingi?” you ask. He rushes to your side to hold you up, though that’s not what you meant. ”Can I sleep here tonight? You know how my mom is, she’d flip if she saw me-”

”I wasn’t planning on letting you go home like this, don’t worry,” he laughs.

So, with his arm around your waist, Mingi guides you inside and up the stairs to his room. It’s dark and you have to remind yourself to be quiet to not wake Mingi's family. While he leaves the room to fetch another blanket you sit down on his bed and look around his room.

It’s been a while since you’ve been here but not much has changed. You know for a fact that Mingi is still just as entertained by his action figures now as he had been at 13. It makes you laugh to see them all lined up on his shelf, right next to a couple of books that you had gifted him. He had forced his way through a couple of them and called you to complain about every choice the main character made.

You’re comforted by how much of his room remains the same. This is a place where you can remember and picture Mingi. By his big stereo, switching CD’s. Cutting out pictures of his friends to add to his collage wall.

Mingi comes back to his room with a blanket and a pillow that he throws next to you on the bed.

You’re watching his every move. When his eyes land on you he lets out a sound you can only read as disgust.

”Of course he gave you that,” he complains, more to himself than to you.

You can’t help but follow his line of sight though, finding that he’s looking at Yunhos flannel shirt.

”What’s so bad about it?” you wonder. Being under Mingis gaze always fills you with a sort of insecurity that has you twisting and turning.

”It's like, his move. Lending out his shirt. And then letting you lean on him like that..” Mingi mutters.

”Why would Yunho ever pull a move on me?” you ask incredulously.

”For the same reason I would, I assume,” he says. ”You’re really hot.”

A heat rushes to your abdomen and you can’t meet Mingis eyes anymore. Today has left you feeling anything but desired by him, but you don’t think he’s lying right now. He wouldn’t lie about finding you hot just minutes after refusing to kiss you.

”It wouldn’t matter what Yunho thinks of me. Like you said last night, you’re the one who has my nudes. Right?” you say.

Mingi sits down next to you, looking at his hands in his lap instead of at you.

”What if he wanted more than just your nudes?” he asks. This, too, feels like he’s asking himself the question. And you don’t know what to answer.

You don’t think Yunho poses any threat whatsoever, he’s just friendly and flirty by nature. But you let yourself think about what Mingi is implying for a second. What if he - or anyone else - would want more of you than Mingi does? Someone who could offer you a relationship that wouldn’t require secrecy. Someone who would bring you around his friends and hold your hand for everyone to see. Someone who would properly date you and want a relationship, as opposed to dirty phone sex at odd hours of the night.

You realize you’d always pick Mingi above all that, no matter if you had to have him only partially. If he was never yours.

You open your mouth to respond but shut it again when you can’t find the right words.

Mingi looks over at you. He speaks, ”Can’t you take it off?”

”Take it off of me,” you whisper back.

His mouth twitches into a small smile.

”It’d be a lot sexier if I wasn’t taking Yunhos clothes off of you the first time I undress you,” he still sounds displeased, but his hands work the shirt off of you anyways. He discards it to the floor, as far away as it can come.

”These are all mine,” you say, meaning the clothes you have on. ”You can take those off.”

Mingi lets out a drawn-out breath, something to collect himself. His hands pause at the hem of your top even though you’ve already given consent, waiting for you to nod until he starts pulling it over your head.

Silence permeates in Mingis bedroom as he continues undressing you. It’s just the wind rustling his curtains that disrupts the quiet. He guides you to lie down so he can unbutton your shorts to take them off. His hands are so gentle and his touch is soft, when he has finished taking your socks off and all your clothes are on the floor except for your underwear he leans down and presses a sweet kiss right above your knee.

”Take yours off too, please,” you say softly. He’s not quite as delicate with himself, he doesn’t make a show of it. You can’t help but stare though, trying to really commit this to memory since it’s the very first time you’re seeing him strip for you, even if you know it won’t be followed up with all the things you’ve talked about on the phone.

Your eyes flick all over him, down his toned arms and up his torso as he pulls his shirt over his head, across his broad chest. You watch his fingers work the button on his shorts open, revealing his dark underwear. He’s not hard, at least not fully, and it’s strangely intimate to be so close to his dick for the first time but not in a sexual manner. Everything about it makes your heart feel heavy, you’re somehow aware of each pump of it, how it’s speeding up at the mere sight of Mingi.

Mingi, your Mingi, that hasn’t ever been yours. Not really, not properly, but still somehow.

You want him on top of you so bad, to finally feel him in the ways you’ve dreamt about for a full year. Instead, Mingi climbs in bed with you and pulls you close.

He is soft and warm in all the spots your bodies are connected and intertwined. You fall asleep to the sounds of his breath coming out slow and steady.

You wake to a breeze of air over your face. At first, all you can hear is the chirps of birds outside and the distant noise of cars driving around. You don’t need to open your eyes to know that it’s the middle of the day, the sun is bright in that midday way, bright enough that there isn’t a total blackness even when you screw your eyes shut further.

You just turn around and try to escape from it by burying your face into the pillow. The texture of the pillow feels strange and unfamiliar, and the more you come to you realize it also doesn’t smell like your bedding. It smells like Mingi, you realize, and shoot up in a startle.

You don’t have time to wonder why the bed is empty next to you, because you can hear steps on the stairs and seconds later the bedroom door creaks open. Through a squint you can see Mingi in the same state you remember him falling asleep. In just his underwear he walks up to the bed and sets down a glass of water and a plate, before petting his hand over your hair.

”Good morning,” he greets you, smiling big.

”Mm, yeah,” you hum back, still drowsy. It’s far more comfortable to let your eyes close again and just lean into Mingi's affection.

”You okay? Are you hungover?” Mingi asks.

”Yeah, but not from drinking,” you murmur. ”It’s from you yelling at me.”

”I wasn’t yelling!” There’s an undertone to his voice, an actual worry and fear that you’d be feeling a certain way today after last night's conversation.

”I know you weren’t, Mingi. I’m just messing with you, I remember every bit of that conversation,” you assure him. He lets out a sigh of relief, his thumb stroking over your temple.

”That was going to be my next question,” he tells you. ”So you remember the whole night then?”

You nod your head under his hand.

”Do you want to talk about it?” he asks you.

The question stabs at something inside your sternum. Of course, you want to talk, in reality, there are a thousand times you’ve held yourself back from saying to him and there would be nothing more freeing than telling Mingi all of it. There’s just never a time and place for it though and you’ve come to terms that there never will be. It would take astronomical changes to allow you to say what you want. Yes, Mingi, I’m in love with you and probably have been all my life. Mingi, it took us sexting to make me realize you’re the only one I could ever picture myself with.

You had of course let yourself fantasize a couple of times, but the details of any imaginary and hypothetical relationship between you two would quickly obscure, and Mingi was often a perpetrator in that. It would present itself on days when you lived in the afterglow of a nighttime call. You’d walk on clouds with the memories of Mingi moaning your name, then check social media and be greeted with photos of him with his arm around your lifelong friends and strangers you would get nauseous picturing Mingi talking to. Your name wouldn’t even come up in conversation, he’d appear single to them because after all, he was.

So you wouldn’t often entertain the idea of being something more. You’d just treat it as a passing thought, boil it down to what it was, a neuronal connection gone to grief.

You guess you had hoped to see something in Mingi to completely deny these thoughts. Like, a first kiss that you wouldn’t be able to break away from. Or the moment you finally have sex for the first time and it being this out-of-body experience that ends with both of you crying and confessing your love. Like a scene out of a movie.

You could even have survived the opposite. If the first kiss had gone sour and the spark died before it even ignited. At the very least, you would have an answer to all your questions. Instead of being tethered to this middle ground where there’s an undeniable passion and need for each other, but a considerable distance keeping you apart.

Though there were things you’d want to say, there are none you could verbalize.

”I don’t think there’s anything to talk about,” you say, finally. To convince Mingi of this, you open your eyes and roll onto your back so you can look at him. He looks unconvinced, so you continue, ”I think I was just confused and upset. I don’t know why. Maybe because you’ve barely spoken to me since I came back home. I had just… expected more.”

You find yourself surprised that you’re telling the truth. It’s not what you had meant to say, but it’s true and innocent enough. Mingis hand rests on the side of your face, where his fingers fiddle with your hair, and for a second his eyes focus on that, before coming back to yours.

”I don’t have any excuse,” he says. ”I guess I could say that I kept seeing your relatives show up at your house and I thought it’d be rude to whisk you away from all that just to fuck you. But I think the more time passed, the harder it got to..”

”Yeah,” you agree. ”To fuck.”

He smiles at your choice of words and nods.

”Have you not happened to notice I haven’t initiated a single kiss between us, Mingi? I’m nervous too. It’s different in real life. It was much easier on the phone to just do things,” you say.

”Would it make it easier if I told you I’d really like to kiss right now?” Mingi asks.

There won’t ever come a time when the prospect of Mingi wanting to kiss you won’t send a jolt of electricity through each and every vein in your body. Nor will there ever be an instance where you won’t act on that will, especially since it seems that there will be a finite number of them. As you prop yourself up and lean in to kiss Mingi you realize that, along with this being the very first time that you initiate a kiss with him, you’re also one kiss closer to the last kiss you’ll ever have with him.

Because there will be a last time. If you keep going like this there is no other possible outcome, there will simply come a day when Mingis's eyes set on someone else and your arrangement is concluded. There’s not an if, it’s simply a when, and every kiss from now on is going to lead up to that last one. You can’t decide if you should hold out and stave off that last one for as long as you can or fit in as many as possible until then.

All these thoughts disperse when your mouth meets Mingis and he kisses you back. It’s hard to think of anything other than his warm lips or his tongue softly licking against yours. It’s more playful this time compared to the last two, today you’re both feeling each other out and learning what to do, what feels good.

You find yourself out of rhythm at times, the position you’re in is a little awkward, and you fumble through a few kisses to lean closer to Mingi. You feel your stomach swirl when you realize that none of this deters Mingi, that you can in fact feel him smile and breathe out something between a hum and a moan every time you come crashing against his mouth. His big hand comes up to your jaw, long fingers curling around the back of your head to deepen the kiss.

Things get heady so fast with Mingi, he works you up so incredibly quickly, and it’s obvious from the sounds he’s making that he’s just as affected. He doesn’t pull away for a second, his hand keeps your head in place and he continues to clumsily kiss you as he guides you down onto the bed.

The air in Mingi's room is hot from the summer sun shining through his window. It’s not until now you realize that the only thing separating you from Mingis body has been his thin blanket. He starts peeling it away, and it’s then you remember that Mingi had undressed you the night before. A jolt of panic shoots through you now that Mingi can see you, entirely nude except for your underwear, in the warm, bright light of his room. You find comfort in the fact that he’s undressed too, but with Mingis eyes taking you in it’s hard to feel relaxed.

Mingi leans in for a long, passionate kiss, and against your mouth he muffles, ”You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Your head is swimming, Mingi keeps on kissing you, getting softer and more careful as he moves down your neck and continues to lavish you with compliments. So pretty, kiss, gorgeous, kiss, breathtaking, kiss. And if you had any doubts, he squashes every single one when he kisses from your collarbone, over your chest and down your stomach, all the way down to your hips.

He plants his hands on each of your thighs, not grabbing or putting any pressure, but you can still feel the weight of them.

”Is this okay?” he asks quietly. He kisses just above the waistband of your underwear, and at the same time, his hands nudge your legs apart. Your breath catches in your throat and you can only nod and let his hands move your legs to where he wants them.

”What about your family?” you ask him, suddenly realizing the reality of where you are.

”No one’s home. It’s just us,” he says. ”So don’t hold back on me please.”

His shoulders are big and broad between your legs. The sun illuminates him so prettily, his tan skin glows, and every little hair on his body is lit up by the sun. The heat has left a thin layer of sweat on his skin and it highlights his muscles in just the right way. He’s just glowing, near angelic, and you’re moved with the need to worship every part of him.

Mingi is still so tender with all his kisses, there’s no sense of rushing as he takes his time by really letting his lips linger. His mouth trails along your entire thigh, stopping now and then to lightly suck your skin into his mouth and have a taste of you. He only falters when he gets to the junction of your thigh, to where your skin is covered by the fabric of your underwear.

You’ve been short of breath for a while now, but when Mingis fingers dip into the waistline of your underwear you cease to breathe entirely. Your head is rushing, watching as Mingis hands pull your underwear down your legs, leaving you completely naked. You’ve sent him pictures before, he knows what every little inch of your body looks like, but Mingi looks at you as if it’s the very first time.

A thousand thoughts whirl through your head between the seconds your underwear hits the floor to when Mingi springs into action. A thousand worries now culminating, whether he’ll realize that it was better over the phone, if he’s disappointed by what he’s seeing, or if he’s repulsed by how aroused you already are.

”You’re,” Mingi begins, stopping to press a kiss at the seam of your thigh. He adds, ”Beautiful.”

His eyes aren’t even on yours, he’s single-mindedly focused on what’s right in front of him. His breath is fanning across your entire crotch, tickling your inner thighs, and as you feel it get closer and closer you instinctively close your eyes and let your head roll back when Mingi finally puts his mouth where you need it most.

He’s still so gentle, using his tongue and lips to tease you and explore what you like best. It feels like hours pass of Mingi lightly sucking and pressing wet kisses all over you, he’s really and truly taking his time and you have to believe it’s for his own sake because he’s only building up a frustration within you.

”Mingi,” you whine, reaching down to grab hold of his hair. It’s an objectively insane feeling, to have his hair in your hand and head between your legs, after all this time of dreaming of it. It’s enough to have you getting close, even though Mingi is still lapping carefully at you, and it's nowhere close enough to what you crave.

When you start bucking your hips against his mouth it’s like he releases all restrain and just goes for it. His hands wrap around your legs at first, pressing them towards his head, to then wedging underneath your ass so he can get all of you into his mouth.

Mingi moans out ”You taste so good” with a mouthful of you at the same time you tell him how good he is with his mouth, prompting him to smirk against your pelvis. It really doesn’t take long for him to learn what gets you closest to the edge, just where he should put his tongue and where to apply some pressure.

”So good, Mingi, you’re so good. Oh my god,” you sigh. You tug on his hair hard enough for your fingers to cramp, and Mingi only moans against you. Every sound you make seems to spur him on further, Mingi only getting more eager with the way he’s circling his tongue around you.

His tongue is getting you closer and closer, your stomach is splitting in two to hold onto the edge and trying not to cum. You’ve been waiting for this for so long that it feels a shame to cum just minutes after Mingis mouth is on you, but there’s no holding back. His hands grip your hips, pulling you flush to his face, and the second you lift your head to look down at him between your legs you start orgasming in his mouth.

He understands what’s happening before you do, applying enough pressure to get you over the edge before letting up and licking you slower to help you come down. All while he keeps his eyes on yours, letting your fingers scratch his scalp. Mingi listens to every little noise you make and stops the second your heavy breathing turns into an overstimulated hiss.

”Mingi, Mingi,” you whine. His cheeks are flushed a deep pink and his lips are slick with his own spit and your cum, and you can’t stop admiring him. All you can do is pray that Mingi looks into your eyes and mistakes your all-consuming love as the afterglow of a great orgasm.

He pulls himself up enough to crawl on top of you, and though he’s just spent minutes between your legs, this feels a lot more daunting. He hesitates for a moment as if he’s unsure if he’s allowed to kiss you, so you wrap your hands around the back of his head and pull him towards you.

Mingi is breathing heavily from the effort he’s just put forth, and instead of letting him catch his breath you only grow more desperate. Your hands clammer onto his shoulders, pulling him against you, then down to his waist, and finally around his ass so you can pull him against your core. He’s got his underwear on, but you don’t let it stop you as you grind up against him. He’s hard and you’re still wet with spit and cum, it doesn’t take long before you’ve soaked his boxers and the barrier between you both is practically nonexistent. You can feel every bit of him against you.

”Mingi,” you moan into his mouth. ”Fuck me, please.”

He pulls away and sucks in a deep breath.

”Don’t you want me to… uh, prepare you?” He sounds small and insecure. You watch his brows burrow and his eyes flick across your face, and you’re struck by how much he looks like Mingi. Your best friend Mingi, who you’ve built up in your head as a confident sex god, even though you’ve always been aware that he’s more careful and vary than any other person you know.

You suppose you’d just assume that that version of him would disappear in the bedroom, that he’d be the same as he is over the phone when he’s telling you all the different ways he wants to fuck you.

”I’m- I’m embarrassed to say this, but I’m so worked up you could just slide inside me,” you tell him, and Mingi moans in response.

”Are you sure?” he asks. You pick up motion again, sliding yourself against the entire length of his dick.

”I’m not just sure, I’m begging,” you plea. You hook your fingers into his boxers, trying to tug them down even though you know the position you’re in won’t allow you to undress him. You just need him to act, now, you can’t wait any longer.

It happens fast, Mingi pulling his boxers off and getting back on top of you, to then lining up his dick to enter you.

”Fuck, I forgot how big you are,” you mumble. The sight of him in comparison to you, lined up against you, is enough to make you cum untouched.

This is what you’ve been dreaming about for a whole year, this very moment. For Mingi to push inside you, hook your legs over his shoulders and fuck you until you can’t see straight. Actually being here, with the tip of his dick against your hole, it feels much different. It’s not the actual sex you’re looking forward to, it’s the fact that he’s finally going to be inside you. It feels like you’re claiming him, that the moment is finally here and he’s going to be yours.

”Are you okay? Are you ready? Can I-?” Mingi asks, searching your eyes for uncertainty.

”Please,” you nod.

He starts pushing inside, watching his dick slide with ease until he’s got the entire tip in. The stretch feels amazing, you could take all of him in one go but the fact that he stops and leans down to kiss you as he slowly thrusts his entire cock inside is way better. And god, he kisses you as if he’s not currently buried inside you. His lips barely brush against yours, and the kisses are short and sweet. Finally, he pulls back to watch himself bottom out.

The sun is shining on the side of Mingis face, and this is just not at all how you had pictured it. In your fantasies, there had always been a dark bedroom and Mingis body had been on top of yours, only distinguishable by faint lights outside the window. It was quick, rushed, and dirty, maybe Mingis hand would be clamped over your mouth to keep you from making any sounds since it would have to happen at one of your homes. Sometimes you’d imagine it happening in his car, parked somewhere secluded at night, it would be bumpy and awkward and sweaty and the focus would just be on both of you cumming as soon as possible.

You hadn’t pictured it like this. Like, Mingi looking at you as if he’s seeing you for the first time.

His hair is messy from your hands grabbing it, and the sunlight lights it up like a halo. Time feels unmoving, you’re drinking in the sight of him and trying to memorize every small detail.

He starts thrusting carefully and slowly. His back is upright, leaning away from you so he can watch his cock go in and out of you. You can’t stop watching him though. He’s so beautiful, his hair is a mess, and beads of sweat are starting to trickle down his chest. You reach your hands up, caressing his skin.

You wonder if you’re breaking some sort of unspoken rule. The two of you hadn’t discussed or set any boundaries, but when you slide your hands over Mingis chest and stomach, you wonder if you should have. This isn’t just fucking, you’re worshipping him and looking at him with intense adoration. He’s going so slow too, really taking his time. You’re not fucking, this is making love.

”I’ve never felt this good, you feel so good,” he moans under his breath. He curls his hands under your ass, picking you up so he can get better leverage to thrust as deep inside as possible. The new angle makes him groan, ”Fuck, you were made for me, weren’t you?”

It has you sobbing with pleasure. Mingis fingers are digging into your flesh, and he fucks you at this torturous pace for tens of minutes. You can truly feel the drag of his dick inside of you, when he bottoms out all the way inside to when the tip of his dick is at your entrance.

”You’re so good, oh my god! So good, you’re so handsome, Mingi,” you praise him, causing Mingi to pick up the speed.

You’re grabbing at his arms and shoulders, trying to pull him down, to get him closer. He lets you down on the bed and leans down, coming chest to chest with you, shoving his arm under your head instead. Your bodies are flush with each other now, Mingis pelvis rubbing against you and getting you close to cumming again stupidly quick.

His mouth is right by your ear, pressing a few sloppy kisses to your neck and temple. He is moaning your name and though his voice is hushed and strained you can still feel it reverberate through his chest, right against yours.

It’s precisely that which has you cumming, the sound of his voice calling your name over and over, telling you how good you feel. Your ears start to ring when your orgasm rolls through you and Mingi only picks up the pace to intensify it. You can faintly hear him, somewhere far away now, this otherwordly being showering you with so much affection it has tears forming in your eyes.

”You’re so perfect,” he’s telling you, fucking you faster. ”Just for me, all for me, you’re all mine.”

Somewhere through it, you realize he’s picked up the speed because he’s close too, but he wants to make it good for you before he pulls out. His eyes are on you, watching your breathing return to normal and feeling your hands unclench from his shoulders, and only when he’s certain that you’re coming down from the orgasm he leans back and pulls out. He only manages to get his hand around his cock before he cums all over your stomach, cumming so hard he shoots all the way up to your chest.

Mingis other hand is grabbing your waist and you can’t stop looking at the way he’s marked you up. There are red marks on you from the tips of his fingers, and little marks from his nails all over your hips, and you’re covered in his cum. Just seconds ago he’d told you that you’re all his, and in this moment you feel it.

”Fuck, that was…” Mingi is the first to speak. ”Shit, let me get you cleaned up.”

He scrambles for his underwear, starting to wipe his cum from your stomach.

You’ve managed to blink away the tears that welled up when you came, but there’s still a sob within your chest that you’re fighting to choke down. Everything about what just happened was about a thousand times more intense than you had ever dreamt of. Had he not pulled away you think you might have confessed to him right then and there.

”How are you feeling?” you ask him, clearing your throat and hoping Mingi reads it as just being fucked out.

”Very good,” he responds, without a hint of hesitance or a second of stalling. There’s a faint laugh in his voice, and he’s starting to smile. Nothing about him looks like you currently feel.

”Oh,” you say, struggling to find words. It’s not like you had expected him to just bare his heart and pour out confessions. You’d just expected something more to follow, after all of that. You had made love. There’s no other word for it.

Mingi leans down and kisses you once, so chaste you barely have time to kiss back.

He gets up and pulls out a pair of new boxers from his dresser, stepping in them.

”Fuck, I made you breakfast earlier and forgot all about it,” he tells you. You look over at the nightstand, where your breakfast sits forgotten.

”Oh,” you repeat. Your head drops back down on Mingis pillow. You speak again, ”I think I’d rather have a shower.”

It’s all so thoroughly strange. Mingi clasps his hand in yours and pulls you up from the bed, and you feel perturbed. You’ve seen Mingi greet Yunho with more affection than the way he helps you up on your feet. At least he joins you in the shower, but you feel weirdly disconnected from him. Even when he jokes and suds up his hair into silly hairstyles you can only manage halfhearted laughs.

Your body aches to have him closer, to feel him pressed against you and to have his lips back on yours again. The kisses he’s giving you now feel cheeky, as if he’s kissing you just because he can, and not because he truly wants to.

You suppose there’s reason to feel thankful, because at the very least Mingi hasn’t rejected you. His casualty is worth a lot more to you than the possibility that he could have pulled back and realized that everything about this was a mistake. He ruffles your hair after the shower, and it stings, but each second you continue to remind yourself that this is how things are supposed to be.

He lets you have one of his shirts after the shower, and he cooks you a very late lunch, then Mingi has to leave for work. Your legs are still unsteady when you make the walk back home to your house.

You prepare yourself to be ignored again. You busy yourself with cleaning your room, reading a book, cleaning out weeds in the garden, sending out job applications, anything you can to make the hours go by. You don’t want to check your phone, but your fingers itch to see if Mingi has texted you.

Nothing.

It’s not until late that night when you know Mingi's shift has ended that he calls you.

”Hey,” you answer, walking over to your window. Mingis car is in the driveway, but you can't see him in his room.

”Hi there,” he greets you. ”Busy day?”

”Oh you know, the usual,” you say. ”Mom wasn’t too happy with me spending the night but she was very relieved to hear it was with you.”

You’re still dressed in his t-shirt, and throughout the day you've been bringing the collar up to your nose to smell him on it. You find yourself doing it now too.

”Her head would explode if she knew what you were doing at my house this morning,” he teases you.

”Good thing no one will ever know then,” you joke, though it is the truth. It was always meant to be a secret.

”Right,” he says. ”So, do you think maybe you could come over tomorrow? My parents will be gone, I start working in the afternoon again, I was thinking maybe-”

”Yes,” you interrupt him.

Mingi laughs, ”Okay. Uh, do I sound desperate if I say that you can come over as soon as you wake up?”

”A little, but I like it,” you giggle.

”Good.”

”I’ll see you tomorrow then!”

You sleep so much better when you know that you’re seeing Mingi tomorrow. You wake up feeling completely rested, and you’re giddy as you sort out your bedhead and get dressed.

Mingis parents aren’t home, and there’s a spare key resting atop the frame of the front door that you use to let yourself into their home. It’s still early, early enough that you know that Mingi is probably fast asleep in his bed. You try to keep your steps light as you trudge up the stairs and into his room. The curtains are drawn, only letting in a stream of sunlight that lights up a sliver on his bed. The orange morning sun is casting a few inches of light on his thigh, so you let it lead you.

It’s where you first press a kiss. He smells of sleep and Mingi, you inhale the scent of his skin between kisses you trail all over his thigh and over the front of his underwear. Mingi sighs softly in his sleep, hips twitching when your lips kiss the tip of his dick through the fabric of his boxers. You’re looking up to watch his face, but when he’s still asleep as you mouth over his entire cock, you crawl up and kiss his lips.

Mingi huffs and puffs, twisting underneath you. You continue to kiss all over his sleepy, confused face. He cracks an eye open, transforming from a groggy confusion to a content smile.

”Morning,” he mumbles happily.

”Hey,” you whisper, kissing the corner of his mouth. ”Can I suck you off?”

He lets out a drawn-out moan that tapers off into a sigh, nodding fervently. His hands are weak and his fingers fumble to find purchase in your hair when you pull his underwear down his legs and take him into your mouth right away.

He sounds so lovely, all raspy and deep from his sleep. Even though he’s just come to consciousness, Mingi makes sure to tell you how good you are making him feel. He moans your name, over and over, giving you so much praise it’s making your head swim.

It doesn’t take him long to get close, so you choke out permission for him to cum in your mouth, and Mingi listens eagerly. Even as he cums he’s vocal, talking you through it and reminding you to breathe all while he praises you for how well you take it. He’s so gentle it’s making you moan as you swallow, and when you pull off his dick you scramble to get his thigh between yours.

Mingis hands guide your hips over his thigh, setting the pace for you to hump him. He keeps the praise coming, and when he feels you getting close he pulls you down for a numbing kiss. You cum on his thigh while deep in a kiss, and Mingi holds you close to his chest as you come down from it.

Somewhere in the post-orgasm haze, you both fall asleep. It’s peaceful and quiet, Mingi lulls you to sleep with the sounds of his breath and his fingers drawing patterns on your back. When you wake up again it’s in a sweat. His little bedroom is swarming with heat, so you decide on a shower, where Mingi has your chest pressed against the white tiles while he fucks you until you’re cumming a second time, this time while full of his cock. He bites down on your shoulder to keep from cumming until he knows you’re fully satisfied, and only then does he pull out and let himself cum on your ass.

When you’re pulling his shirt over your head 10 minutes later while he cooks you lunch, you catch sight of marks on your shoulder. His teeth had dug hard enough to bloom bruises on your skin, and your mind reels at the fact that he has marked you up.

Mingi has you coming over the next morning too, after you’d spent the previous night sending him pictures of the bruises his teeth left on your skin. His responses had been sporadic as he focused on work, but it didn’t stop you from going into detail about all the things you want Mingi to do to you.

It’s like all the limits have finally vanished, neither of you are held back by the fears and worries of before. It’s just like it had been before you moved back, when you only had phone calls to rely on. Back then, the comfort had come from the fact that you didn’t have to actualize all the things you spoke about. You had time to feel each other out and discuss what you want, all without having to put yourself on the line for possible failure. Now, you’ve found reassurance in the fact that you do have a physical relationship.

You know each other in your bones. You can read all the queues his body gives you, and you know what every little expression on his face means. You can sense differences in his sighs and you know what his voice sounds like when it’s getting to be too much. There’s no room for doubt when Mingi is in front of you, you just intrinsically know what he needs.

The two of you fall into a routine. When morning comes, you skip over to Mingi's house and usually he’s still asleep, tired from his shift the day before. You wake him up with kisses or gentle touches, and if he’s hard by the time you get there, Mingi loves to wake up to you already taking care of him. Some mornings you simply lay beside him, tracing his face with your finger. His hair sticks to his forehead so you brush it back, giving soft kisses to the side of his temple. Your pointer finger follows the contour of his nose and lips, feeling the warmth of his breath exit his nose.

Even though he’s asleep and unaware of your worship, you can’t bring yourself to stop. It’s in these moments you can be fully truthful with your affections. Letting your hands linger on his chest for a moment longer, focusing on his heartbeat underneath your palm. You whisper things to him you’re too afraid to say when he can hear you, just to release yourself from the need. It satiates you enough, like this airing out of your system, enough to keep you going until the next morning when you once again get overwhelmed with the sight of his sleeping form blanketed by sunlight. There is only one thing you forbid yourself from saying, three words that you vow to never let yourself speak.

A full two weeks pass of this. Every day you explore something new, things you’ve spoken about on the phone over the last year. With Mingis parents working daytime, you have full freedom to be as loud as you want. Mingi also takes full advantage of a free house. One morning he bends you over the kitchen counter while breakfast is still cooking. His mouth is always right by your ear, moaning and telling you how bad he needs you, despite fucking you upstairs in his bedroom just an hour earlier. Another day he has you ride him on the couch right before he leaves for work. You love it most when Mingi randomly decides to go down on you, whether it’s in the shower or he makes you lie down on the kitchen table. When he’s got his mouth on you he’s possessive, making sure to mark up your thighs and hips. It happens so often that he sometimes ends up darkening the hickeys he left a few days earlier.

Then Mingis schedule changes, and he has to work in the mornings. It doesn’t stop you, but it puts a damper on things as you know them. You have to meet in the afternoons instead, and with Mingi's parents home you end up sitting through long dinners with his parents, reminiscing and talking. It makes sex a little difficult, and Mingi hates the fact that you have to be quiet. He picks you up in his car a few times, but quick head while parked at the edge of the woods is a harsh contrast to the hours of sex you’d been able to have a few weeks earlier.

You’re caught by surprise one day when your phone calls and you rush to pick up only to find Yunhos voice at the other end. You’re so surprised that you pull your phone away and check the name on the screen, and sure enough it’s Yunho's contact name.

”Hey,” you reply, trying to play off the shock.

”Not happy to hear from me?” he teases.

”Shut up, you know I am!” you joke back.

He laughs in return and makes some small talk, telling you how much fun it was to see you and asking you how you’ve been.

”But, hey, uh,” he interjects. ”You ended up leaving with my shirt, is there any chance I could get it back?”

”Shit,” you curse, squeezing your eyes shut in embarrassment. ”You’re right, I totally forgot. Uh, do you want me to bring it by today?”

”That’d be perfect, thanks!”

When Yunho hangs up the phone, you chew nervously at your lip. Getting the shirt back to Yunho wouldn’t be an issue, it’s just that it’s in Mingi’s room somewhere, and asking him to locate it would probably lead to another weird moment where Mingi says something petty. You’re pacing around your room when your eyes land on his driveway and you remember that Mingi is at work. You’re just about to call Yunho and tell him today’s gonna be impossible, before the solution hits you.

Mingis mom opens the door to their home when you knock, and beams at the sight of you on their doorstep.

”Sweetheart! Hi there, Mingi is at work right now, I’m afraid,” she tells you while wrapping her arms around you for a hug. She always does this, even though you’ve been spending a lot of time over at their house recently, Mingis mother hugs you every time she sees you.

”I know, it’s just that I left something in Mingi's room that I need to get if that’s okay?”

So she lets you run up to his bedroom. You feel a little bad while rummaging through his room, but it doesn’t take you long to find Yunhos flannel shirt bunched up halfway underneath Mingis dresser. Mingis mom tries to convince you to stay for dinner, but you tell her you have to get going, and within moments you’re in your car on the way to Yunhos house.

It’s another picture-perfect day outside, the sky is a pristine blue and the wind is blowing just enough to bring some relief in this heat. Yunho is outside in his front yard, with the rear of his car jacked up.

”Hey, you!” you call, getting out of your car. ”Car trouble?”

You can tell by the fact that he has picked apart the entire wheelhouse that it’s not just something routine, but Yunho shrugs his shoulders.

”Not something I can’t fix,” he smiles. ”Dude, you’re quick. I called you, what, 30 minutes ago?”

You nod, sitting down on the tire Yunho has removed.

”Honestly, I was losing my mind at home. I’ve been doing jack shit for days now, I think I might die out of boredom,” you complain.

”Oh, so you’re saying you left the minute you got my call just because you had nothing better to do? It’s not just because you love me?” Yunho quirks an eyebrow, wiping grease from his forehead.

”Can’t it be both? And anyway, I had to go over to Mingis to get your shirt, so I didn’t leave ’the minute I got your call’,” you say, sticking out your tongue at him.

”It was at Mingi's house?” he asks.

Something comes over Yunhos face that you can’t pinpoint.

”Yeah.. I left with him during the party, and we went to his house afterward.” You hope he buys it as a reasonable enough explanation, it’s at the very least true. Just not the entire truth.

Yunho shrugs, and his eyes lose the edge they just had. He smiles, ”Leaving in one man's shirt to go to another dude's house, all in one night.. Impressive, I’ll give you that.”

”Fuck off!” you huff, kicking Yunhos shoe.

He laughs, slapping down a greasy hand on your knee to let you know that he’s just joking, even though you already know that.

”Although…” you trail off. ”Mingi did say that it’s your move.”

”Oh yeah, it is. I wasn’t expecting you to fall for it, though.” Yunhos's voice is still teasing, but not in the same way that Mingis usually is. You can tell that Yunho is just friendly, that there’s no flirting laced in his words or tone. It makes you miss Mingi.

”I don’t fall for things like that,” you retort, but quickly find your mind going to all the shirts Mingi has let you borrow these past weeks. You wear them all day, every day, even when you come back home after spending time with him. You even sleep in them, and you frequently bury your face in the collar to smell his laundry detergent. The few times he gives you a shirt he’s already worn you end up getting so worked up about it that you think you’d be getting yourself off while smelling it, if it wasn’t for the fact that Mingi now has you cumming at least twice a day.

So, perhaps you do fall for tricks like that. But only when it’s Mingi.

Yunho goes silent, and you can see that he’s chewing on the inside of his lip.

”What’s wrong?” you ask him.

His eyes flick over to yours for a second, then he looks at his hands. You’ve never seen Yunho this deep in thought outside an academic setting, and something about it is making you uneasy.

”You know,” he begins, but the words die as quickly as he says them.

”Yes?” you try again.

He pauses, looking up at you.

”You know that Mingi is my best friend,” he says. ”And I love him, I do, but sometimes he acts like an idiot. And I can’t- I just hate seeing it, you know?”

”Okay,” you mumble, only growing more confused with every word Yunho says.

”I don’t think it was right how he came here with you, then spent the whole night talking to everyone but you. But, he just gets so weird sometimes, right? And like I said, I love him, he’s my best friend, but- we just thought it would be different when you came back home. So, Wooyoung and I decided to see what would happen if I lent you my shirt, and-.. Yeah.”

”What… What are you saying?” Your voice is getting quieter. The cheery happiness from before has retired, and there’s something strange in the atmosphere now. You can’t understand what Yunho is getting at, but there’s a part of you that wonders and wishes. A part of you that can read between the lines of what Yunho is too afraid to say out loud.

”It’s not my place to say,” Yunho says, looking everywhere but your eyes.

”At least tell me what you intended to do with this shirt.” It’s still in your hands, his flannel, and your fingers are tightening around it.

”We just figured that maybe he needed a push,” he tells you, sounding so sheepish.

”You wanted him to get jealous?” you finally say it out loud. Yunho doesn’t meet your eyes, but it’s a clear enough answer. So you ask, ”What do you know about me and Mingi?”

”In all honesty? I don’t know anything. And it used to hurt me because Mingi is my best friend and I’ve known him since we were kids. But that’s what clued me in because I know for a fact that he would have told me if you were dating,” Yunho says. You’re holding your breath while listening to him. He continues, ”I, uh, I accidentally saw the preview of a text you sent him once. Something about.. well, that’s not important. But, I realized it then. We all thought it was just a matter of time, and that you’d make it official when you moved back home.”

You’re hearing every single thing Yunho is saying, but the words just won’t stick. You’re becoming more aware of the birds singing and the sound of the wind among the treetops.

”Mingi is in love with you,” Yunho says. At last. The rest of his words blur together. He has been, a long time, doesn’t know it. Yunhos mouth is moving, and you know what he’s saying, but the rational part of you that knows this can’t be true has stopped listening long ago.

Mingi is not in love with you. He’s just not, that can’t be true.

Yunho scrambles towards you, hands landing on each of your knees. He looks so concerned and his mouth is still moving.

”-you okay? What’s wrong?” You hear once your brain stops blocking your ears. You’re crying, tears falling from your cheeks down onto your hands.

”What did I say?” Yunho asks frantically.

And the confessions start rolling. You tell Yunho about everything, from that first night to everything that has happened since you returned back home. You tell him about the weird moment when Mingi drove you home after the party.

”Don’t you hear it though? He’s in love with you! My god, I think he always has been,” Yunho says.

You scoff, ”He ignored me for four whole months during my first semester away. He’s not in love with me, this is just.. out of comfort, it’s just easy.”

”You’re both in denial. You know what I’m hearing? That Mingi was so heartbroken when you moved away that he couldn’t even be a good friend. That didn’t just extend to you, by the way. He barely hung out with us during that time, and it only changed when you came home for Christmas,” Yunho tries to lay it out for you.

”You’re wrong. You’re wrong-”

”I can’t tell you what to believe,” Yunho says. His hand squeezes your knee, leaving dirty marks of grease on your skin. It’s a gesture of comfort, and you appreciate it for what it is. ”You need to talk to Mingi. Maybe disarm him by telling him that you’re in love with him first.”

The air feels different when you drive back home. It feels heavier, somehow. Yunhos words bear an incredible weight and no matter how many times you run them through your head they don’t get any easier to process. It would be different if it had come from Seonghwa or Hongjoong, who would say practically anything to comfort you. You don’t think Yunho would sweeten his words like they would, or even at all.

You sit through a quiet lunch with your mom, unable to get your thoughts in any other direction than the conversation you just had with Yunho. For some reason, you feel absolutely stuck there, and you can’t see a way for things to work. It feels as if time has been suspended in wait for your next move. The hours tick on though. You lay in your bed and watch the numbers on your alarm clock change. Seconds turn into minutes, and then hours, and your mind is still stuck in the same place as it has since you left Yunhos house.

You don’t realize when the clock indicates that Mingi is ending his shift. The numbers are just ticking, hypnotizing you. You startle when your phone calls and the pit in your stomach grows when you know that it’s probably Mingi.

Your fingers move on pure muscle memory as you pick up your phone and swipe to answer the call, then raise the phone to your ear. Through the phone, you can hear Mingis car running.

”Hello?” Mingi asks. ”You know, it’s usually the person who picks up the phone who speaks first.”

”Sorry,” you croak. You don’t even recognize the sound of your voice.

”Are you okay?” Mingi sounds so concerned it makes your stomach twist. It’s still the same Mingi you have known all your life, and he’s the same man you’ve been fucking the past weeks, but something feels as if it has fundamentally changed. You try to listen to his voice, read it for any hint of tenderness you’d have previously missed. You can’t make out any, it’s the same Mingi as always.

”It’s been a weird day,” you settle for.

”Then what do you say about changing into your swimsuit and we go to the lake? It’s so hot out, I can’t stand to be home. And maybe it can take your mind off of things?” he suggests.

”Yeah, sounds good.”

”I’ll pick you up in 5, better hurry!”

Mingi hangs up. Your head feels all fuzzy and distant, but you pull yourself out of bed and get changed. While putting your clothes over your swimsuit you realize you’re in one of Mingis t-shirts. Every single bit of this feels like a divine punishment. To be dressed in Mingis clothes and have marks in the shape of his mouth decorate your chest and the insides of your thighs, to be so thoroughly claimed by him but yet not be his, is agonizing.

You’re aware that Mingi would park in your driveway and come knocking at your door, wanting to impress and appease your parents at every turn. You just can’t deal with that today, so you hurriedly make your way down the stairs and out your door to wait for him outside. You’re just in time, because Mingi is making the turn up your street and it’s only half a minute before he’s pulling up to your house and you’re getting in his car.

”Hey, I missed you!” Mingi sounds cheerful, sporting a smile so big it’s splitting. You hate the way that time and space curl around Mingi each time you see him as if he presents to you in technicolor and slow motion. Your eyes pass over each feature, trying your best to handle what just seeing him does to your body.

Mingi keeps a pair of extra sunglasses in his car for you, and when you’re sat down he leans over to place them on your face. The gesture is enough to make your breath hitch, but he uses it as an opportunity to lean in for a swift kiss, and you feel as if you’re floating.

Today, Mingi has Fleetwood Mac playing softly throughout the car.

You’re just looking at Mingi with this pit in your stomach, this sense of impending doom sitting heavy in your abdomen. The world feels slow and strangely saturated. The seconds stretch on infinitely, allowing you plenty of time to watch the sunlight adorn Mingi's skin.

You’re aware that you can’t stop staring. When Mingi parks the car and you start making the short walk through the trees to get to the lake, your eyes are always set on him. From the towel slung over his shoulder to the sweat that has broken out and is trickling down the nape of his neck. You’re trying to make sense of the sight in front of you, the same Mingi you’ve made this walk with a hundred times, the only difference being that he’s had you in the most intimate and tender ways now. It forces you to rewrite history, the memories of your childhood innocence are permanently changed. If only you had known then, while sitting on the big rock and throwing pebbles out to break the still surface of the water if you had only known that the boy handing you rocks would end up being the man you fall in love with fifteen years later.

Your stupid, stupid heart. Sometimes you think the ribs, flesh, and muscle containing it won’t be enough to keep it in place. It beats so hard and fast it billows from your chest, through your arms, and out to the very tip of each finger. You have to flex them to stop that lovesick tingle from numbing you.

The water is beautiful. The lake looks just like you remember it, the wind is blowing slight ripples upon the surface and the trees are swinging lightly. Besides the gentle hum of nature, the place is completely undisturbed and it’s just you and Mingi here today.

You're placing your towels down and undressing in silence, barely glancing at each other. You sneak little glances at him in the corner of your eye, wondering what he’s thinking. Yunhos words are still echoing through your head, getting louder and more unbearable for every minute that passes.

Mingi is wading into the water before you know it, covered up to his knees, then thighs, then his waist, and eventually he points his arms and dives in entirely. He erupts back through the surface with a shriek that echoes over the lake, and you can’t stop yourself from laughing.

He rushes back up to where you’re laying on your towel, shoulders bunched up in reaction to the cold water. Mingi shakes his head above you to force droplets onto your bare skin, laughing loudly when you yell in protest. Things feel so extraordinarily regular, it’s as if you have transported back ten years in time. Even when Mingi gets down on his towel and leans over to kiss you, it still feels so normal. It just feels so right with Mingi, like this is what you’re meant to be doing.

Mingis's mouth is cold and wet from his dip in the water, and his hair continues to drip onto your face, but you find it hard to care when he wraps you up in a long, passionate kiss. He’s on his stomach on his towel now, as close to you as he can get. Your heart beats with a discernible nervosity at the fact that you are laid out in the open with Mingi making out with you. There would be quite a walk for anyone else to get here, and you would probably be able to hear branches breaking or even a car parking way before anyone could walk upon the scene and spot the two of you. The risk of getting caught here is low, but you still feel like you’re on display.

Mingis cold fingers wrap around your jaw where he keeps you firmly as his tongue enters your mouth. The kissing goes to your head very quickly, dulling all your senses as all your thoughts are replaced by what Mingi is doing with his mouth. He knows you so well that he pulls away seconds before you lose your breath, letting you regain it while he kisses the corner of your mouth softly. His hand trails over your chest and down your stomach carefully, feeling the way your ribcage heaves as your breaths get steadier.

Mingis eyes follow the path of his hand before he abruptly stops by your knee.

”What’s that?” he asks you. You have to crane your neck to see what he’s looking at. Not much remains of it, but there are still faint marks of dirt and grease on the top of your knees. Just on the outside of your leg, there’s an unmistakable fingerprint.

”Oh,” you mumble. Mingi detaches himself from you with a quickness that makes you lose your breath, and you scramble to get up too.

”I don’t- I feel like I don’t even need to ask who left that on you,” Mingi says.

”It was Yunho,” you rush out, wanting so badly to resolve this before Mingis thoughts spin and twist so bad that you can’t untangle them. It’s clear from the look on his face that your words and their haste only have the opposite effect.

”Yunho?” he questions, getting quieter.

”It’s not all what you think. He called me about that shirt he let me borrow a few weeks ago, remember? I went to his house to give it back and we got to talking. You know, just.. stuff, about life. I ended up getting emotional and he comforted me. I was crying and he put his hands on my knees, that’s all.” You read Mingis's face for any changes, but nothing happens. He only looks at you, taking in your half-truth excuse of an explanation.

”What is it that Yunho can comfort you about, but I can’t?” Mingi asks, his eyes staring into yours with so much intensity you feel like crying. You had expected everything but that. You’d rather Mingi accuse you of getting intimate with Yunho, that you’re lying and it’s a terrible cover story you’re spinning. You could defend yourself from all that, but not this.

”That’s not… Mingi, it’s not like that. I didn’t just choose to go there for comfort. It just happened, I just started crying, and that’s it,” you urge.

Mingis legs are drawn up to his chest and his arms are wrapped around them. He looks so small and vulnerable. His eyebrows are starting to furrow together, and you’re finding it hard to tell if it’s anger or sadness that is starting to show on his face. Both possibilities terrify you equally.

”Why?” he wonders, simply. ”Why did you cry?”

You can physically see the restraints he’s putting on himself to hear you out, to not race away with his worries. You wish it means what you want it to mean. That Mingis vulnerability was an act of love instead of self-preservation. He’s probably sat there worried at the threat of Yunho taking you away and replacing his role. That the fun you’ve had the past weeks, and the year before that, would be over, just like that. You wonder if he views it as a hindrance more than anything. Mingi has finally scored a way to have sex on the regular, without the commitment or worries of starting with someone new. What you have is a lot of comfort, and you suppose he doesn’t want to lose that.

Still, even this feels like a lot more than you deserve of him. If you can’t have Mingi in the ways that you want, you’ll have to do your best to preserve the arrangement you have now.

”It’s not important,” you mumble. You know it’s not a good enough answer.

Mingi lets the word hover in the air for a moment, pondering on whether he should let it go.

In the end, he decides to speak. ”There’s nothing you can tell me that would scare me off. You know that, right?”

”That’s not true,” you whisper, so quiet it’s almost a hiss. ”There is something I can’t ever tell you.”

Tears start to fall down your cheeks and it’s now a conscious effort to keep your sobs contained within your chest. The lake is still breathtaking, the wind is still and the sun is bright in the perfect blue sky. It’s a beautiful day to get your heart broken, at the very least.

Mingi stretches his fingers and you watch the tendons twitch and flex. You’re brought back to what you were doing earlier, shaking off your nerves.

”What if I say it first?” he says. You look up at his eyes.

”What?”

”That I love you,” he tells you. His eyes are big and dark, brimming with tears of his own. ”If I say it first, will you say it too?”

”Mingi-”

”I do love you,” he begins. ”It’s stupid, looking back, because I think I’ve loved you since before you left. I loved you that first night, I already knew it, and I felt so stupid when I woke up the morning after. Doing that with you when I was drunk out of my mind made me feel like shit. And then I felt even more like shit, because- because, it made me realize that it hadn’t been the way I wanted it to be. So I took comfort in the fact that it was over the phone, and I still had time to do it right. To start right, with you, I mean. I wanted our first time to be perfect. I knew I loved you when I kept thinking about it. But then, when you finally came back, it truly clicked. For a while, I had figured that I’d know how I felt about you when we had sex for the first time. But I was wrong because all it took was me seeing you to know that I’m in love with you.”

”Mingi,” you whisper, again, over and over. It’s all you can bring yourself to say, like a prayer, before you crawl over to him and press your lips to his. It doesn’t matter that it takes him a beat to respond, you don’t care at all anymore about how things get awkward or strange. You continue to kiss over his mouth until he’s ready to kiss you back, when time finally catches up to you and it dawns on you both that this is real.

You can’t stop kissing him, breathing out his name every time you part.

”I love you,” you mumble into his mouth. ”I’m so in love with you.”

Mingi smiles into the kiss. Your senses are overwhelmed with the taste of both your tears and the fact that you’re both now smiling and giggling, repeating ’I love you’s until the words merge.

He pulls you into his arms, tumbling over into the grass. He stops kissing you to just look at you, and you watch him too. Your Mingi, in the grass by the lake. Finally, your Mingi.

[closetcasefabray]

jesus saves (i spend)

i have been writing parts of an avatrice college au for two gd years now. the ideas & writing are scattered between here (one of the tags below should work), my whatsapp convos with @snowandwolves, on discord, my dinosaur laptop that crashes, & my email. it’s a fucking disaster but whatever so am i & not once in my life have i had my shit together so this is all unsurprising.

SO what i’m saying is, here’s the only part i have ‘formally’ written in fic form bc i posted that other ficlet. doing this made me almost throw my dino laptop & my phone out a window on several occasions—that’s why there isn’t more. but i just wanna share this.

more notes & rambles at the end.

//

You notice her because it's syllabus week of your freshman year, it's an 8 AM class, and you're fairly confident you're still drunk from the party you attended last night, but she raises her hand and correctly answers a question posed by your theology professor without hesitation. Your professor, Father Vincent, was likely hoping for a good guess at best, but there she is, exceeding expectations from the moment she speaks. You pickup on an accent, which you would find incredibly attractive if you weren't so thrown by her perfect and concise response, like a well-prepared speech is always readily accessible in the back of her mind—a girl with all the answers. A young woman, really. 

You, however, are not—you're just a girl. You're just a girl who shows up to her morning classes smelling like the bar or the house party from the night before, like the weed you started smoking almost immediately upon arriving to university during orientation week, like the cigarettes you smoke because it affords you a little more quiet outside and an excuse to borrow a lighter and talk to a cute boy or a pretty girl.

You're just a girl who technically died, existed in nothingness for a whole minute before being ripped back into a reality of blank ceilings and the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. You're just a girl strangers prayed for after they heard about the American child pulled from the wreckage. You're just a girl who didn't get any credit for teaching herself to stand again, to walk again—and if you’re being completely honest, you’re a girl who’s incredibly bitter that a god you never saw in that one minute got all the credit and none of the blame—for taking your mother from you, for taking years from you that had to be spent healing from god’s grace or lack thereof. 

You're just a girl who is tired of being told to look at her life as an expression of holiness, who thinks it is more so the consequence of indifferent stardust. But you still look for the beauty in that, in humanity and its flaws—these meaningless beings in a vast universe, creating and destroying their own little, myopic worlds on this spinning rock. Some will dream of poetry for their lovers, and some will dream of arsenals to level cities. You wonder how many lips were pressed together in a final kiss versus hands clasped together in prayer when fire fell from the sky in the name of God. You wonder what that says about faith.

You'd like to think if your mother could see you, she'd laugh at the irony because once you were baptized, she never took you to church. God finds a way, so you spent five miserable years in a Catholic orphanage before you were sent back to America. People said you were lucky to have two years in a foster family at your age, but it felt like living with strangers who were tasked with the minimum of keeping you alive. Then you were moved into a home for teen girls with a nun at the helm, and that’s where you actually felt fortunate for the first time in years. It was there that Mother Superion helped you with your studies and college applications. So here you are, tipping into a hangover in one of the oldest buildings on campus, learning theology from a priest.

But your mom would understand. (You don’t remember much of her, and you try not to think about that too deeply, or else you have to deal with the resulting ache that comes from reaching inside yourself for something that’s gone.) You have spliced together what you can recall into a short reel—you mom buckling into your car seat while humming a show tune, showing you how to fold a pizza slice and telling about a city famous for their pizza, and holding your hand in a museum in Spain, promising to take you to another big museum closer to home, the home you never saw again. So you promised yourself and the parts of her you carry that you’d make it here.

You would have had to pay almost full tuition if you wished to attend your reach, requiring immense debt, so you ended up at the school that offered you a ticket to the city and a hefty enough scholarship you could get through four years without requiring loans or a full-time job to afford it. (You first refused to use your mother’s death as a sob story in you application letter, but Mother Superion put her hand on yours and said, So rarely do these letters contain truth, but do not be afraid to tell yours. In telling your truth there is a sadness, yes—and I know you detest pity—but of all the things that have been taken from you, do not feel guilty for taking some of it back to live a better life.) You remember getting your acceptance letter, and looking up at the sky and flipping it off, praying whatever god hears you, No thanks to you!

But your bitterness temporarily takes a backseat in your mind as you look at your classmate, beautiful in the refracted light shining through the stained glass window, speaking so graciously of god you'd think Jesus were in the room, about to hand her his latest work. It's poetry, bordering on scripture in a new tongue, and you'd almost be a believer if it didn't sound as if she had repeated these words—practiced—enough times to believe them herself. You wonder what that says about her faith.

If the nuns at the orphanage had spoken the gospel as she does, maybe you'd be here for different reasons. You're fascinated.

Behold, you are beautiful…

//

i promise this fic gets lighter & has some silliness. so some notes/tangents:

this is 100% self-indulgence bc i heard ‘write what you know’ & ran with that shit. when i visited a friend at a state school in a college town i was so so confused bc it was just a diff campus culture entirely. then i was going to make this set in an ambiguous city, but i literally have saved places in google maps that would be great places to kiss someone sooooo you get NY avatrice.

likely setting this before instagram & smartphones bc i’m old/lazy & i can.

the title is from st. vincent who my friend introduced me to in college. “paris is burning” changed my brain chemistry & so i listened to her music on repeat for ages—“jesus saves, i spend” is on the same album.

father vincent will not be a bad man or evil professor. he will be as he was before adriel—a lost man who found himself through god & still a little broken but caring & devout.

also song of songs/song of solomon is like… the only part of the bible i fucked with in theology class so that’s the reference at the end. also another line used in another scene with JC, chanel, & ava written in v rough form. maybe will share that later.

this is meant to be a fic with a post-grad sequel as well. not much written of that but a lot of ideas everywhere.

once i figure out where i’m moving (hahahaha i’m so stressed), i’ll consider a ko-fi or something (i wish emails & names weren’t shown though). but mostly i will likely need a second job to save up for an actually good computer/macbook. once i have that i’ll be able to post on ao3.

anyway thanks for reading & being here :3

[poppy-metal]

ok before we get into the Thick of citygirl!reader’s return to the small town i was plagued by visions of her and ranch hand!art from earlier in the summer.

the town’s summer rodeo was coming up, and coming from new york, you didn’t really have a clue what that meant. you’re also bored bc your preferred form of entertainment for the summer was avoiding you. you’ve been chewing on your straw for the past ten minutes as you look out onto the ranch from the porch, brows furrowed.

it had been the third time you seduced art; him taking you in the toolshed after you bent over in front of him in a white sundress, the hem riding up to show your glistening cunt. he knew you had played with yourself earlier; it was the flush in your cheeks and the glossy lidded look you gave him over your shoulder. “oops, guess i dropped that,” you had drawled to the other ranch hands who were oblivious to your flirtations with art. he was pounding into you so hard the flimsy wood walls were shaking, but his hips stilled when he heard the other ranch hands coming back from feeding the cattle. “fuck,” he hissed—partially because the fear of getting caught wracked through his body and partially because you clenched on his cock in a way that brought him right to edge. of course he came in you and zipped himself up like normal, but there was a tenseness in his shoulders that hinted at something else.

well, it’s been five days, and you desperately needed him. you knew that he was avoiding you, but he couldn’t avoid his work, and if you were working alongside him, he can’t avoid you. so as the summer sun beats down on your back, you help pick strawberries alongside the ranch hands. “you comin’ to the rodeo, sweetheart?” patrick asks from a few rows down. he was eating more strawberries than he was picking. “now i’ve been hearing a lot about this rodeo, but i haven’t the faintest clue what it entails,” you respond. “well you’ll see a few of us bull ridin’” patrick starts, “you’ve ever seen that before up in that big ol’ city of yours?” you shake your head.

“don’t know why you do it, patrick,” art interjects. you shiver at hearing the timbre of his voice again. “getting bounced around, risking getting hurt like that? for what? a few seconds of adrenaline and pride,” art shakes his head, “idiotic.”

“you only say that because lily doesn’t let you do it anymore,” patrick retorts, and at your interested expression, he turns to face you. “art used to be the best in the state but once lily made him an honest man, he stopped. said she was scared every time he got on, and he couldn’t do anything that would hurt her or make her sad. but you? you look like a girl that enjoys a bit of danger.”

you do, and he’s standing next to you watching you with an expression that lights your skin on fire. “well, i won’t say i’m not intrigued,” you start, “always wondered what it’s like to ride a cowboy.” a low whistle comes from another one of the ranch hands.

“now what about this,” patrick starts, “i last long enough on that bull tomorrow, and you give me the honor of taking you out one night.” art stiffens next to you. the other ranch hands laugh and keep their eyes on the scene entertaining them during the day’s menial task. the plan lays itself out in front of you.

“now how bout this,” you say, sweeping your eyes over the men leering at you, “who ever lasts the longest on that bull tomorrow gets to take me out and help me fulfill that cowboy fantasy of mine.”

“now that’s a deal, sweetheart,” patrick says.

so riddle everyone’s surprise when art shows up in his gear and sets the town record bull riding. of course all the ranch hands grumble that your promise and prize was now wasted because art—loyal, cuffed art—did not need your prize and would never ever cash it in.

but he does that night when you ride him on his bed, bouncing and mewling on his cock the whole night wearing his cowboy hat. lucky for him, the following morning was his day off because he was DRAINED (in all senses of the word) and felt no desire to get up out of bed, staying curled up behind you with his arms firmly wrapped around your waist.

(but yes! i’m going to be a primary school teacher, so teaching the littlest children 🙂‍↕️ more ranch hand!art will be coming slowly once i’m more settled into my job)

- 🤠

WOOOF WOOOOOOF WOOOF

please art is so petty - can't handle anyone else having reader even though he can't claim her as his publicly, anyway. think this is where reader starts to fall for him - no ones ever really fought for her before. and arts display of possessiveness, even if she's the only one who knows it for what it is, when everyone else just thinks he's being a gentleman and keepin' the men of the town from harassin' you, you know what it's really for. can see it when he catches your eyes after he dismounts and a rush of butterflies take off in your tummy. the look says, you're mine.

and when lily comes busslin' up to him to fawn over him he doesn't even have it in him in the moment to feel guilty for not thinking about her at all, head full of all the ways he plans on collectin' his prize from you - your eyes meet his over his her head and he knows you'll be waiting for him by his truck later.

and late when he fucks you on his cock you can feel some of that rushed clumsiness of the first few quick fucks vanish as he takes his time - on his bed - a room he hasn't even allowed lily in, because it's improper - he takes his time feeding you his fingers - watching the way your body twitches and writhes for him - you're so reposnsive - so wet and tight - and he feels some part of him come out that he's always strugglin' to suppress - that he claims isn't there in the first place, but is now, with you naked and hot on his lap - "you wanted to ride a cowboy? s'that what all this is about, honey? you just needin' some rough and tumble dick in that city girl cunt?"

he eases you down onto him before you can answer - "take it, then -" because if you're here giving him hell just to get your rocks off, the least you can do it bounce on his dick like the whore you are. you're a wicked, wicked girl - you're also the only thing that's makin' him feel alive, his blood buzzin under his skin as you arch your back and slam your hips up and down on his cock like you're laying down your claim on him.

"how are you so - fuckin' good at this -" he doesn't really want to know - it's just insane - how he sinks inside you and immediately loses thought. some witchcraft in your pussy the way he can't stop thinking about it, even when he shouldn't be. he grips your ass in a punishing way, spanks you once, hard - "give me my prize, honey - ride me harder, c'mon -" and he spanks you again, like he's urging on a horse, spurrin' you and you go buck wild for it - squeezing his dick with your pussy, makin' his goddamn toes curl as you fuck him harder. the bed shakes on its hinges - your hands comes down to his bare chest to balance yourself as you rock back and forth wildly.

"fuck, that's it." you cry - "it's your pussy - you earned it - fuck me just like that. fuck that pussy - yeah - show me who's boss around here -"

cause you know he fuckin' hates your attitude - can see his need to straighten you out burning under his skin everytime he looks at you, know he blames you for his own weakness and you love it - love his anger and his hatred because it's passion and it's hot and you can feel how fucking badly he wants you when he grabs your waist and sits up so your chest to chest and wraps an arm around you, yankin' you against him, and then you're moving together, bodies slick and sliding and your mouths are a hairs breath apart and he's so deep - he's so fucking deep you can feel him in your throat - robbin' you of breath -

you don't have to beg for him to cum inside you like you usually do - it's just a known fact that he's gonna. you grab his face and press your forehead to his and you lock eyes and his fury looks alot like raw fuckin' desire when he pumps you full of his seed.

you're both so breathless and fucked out after, he doesn't think to tell you to get out - he tips to the side with you in his arms, holding you to him as you both come down. he thinks he'll tell you to get cleaned up and get goin' in just a few minutes. just needs to catch his breath.

you both fall asleep within minutes.

[leclsrc]

hi audreeey!!! could i get a drabble where charles and reader are on a basic (not "basic" but u get me) dinner date and they're just all capital F Fond... like maybe even pretending theyre married bc they love the other's company sm... I LOVE U

begin again – cl16

Tonight is different. Tonight is special. title from this

auds here... my quasi-apology for being mia-ish. also i am writing a long form fic it's just taking agesss as i'm traveling rn (its nearly done) but know that I LOVE U ALL... like crazy. this is p long for a drabble but i missed writing them a lot! love u guys n i hope i did this adorable prompt justice

He says something in French, pointing at something on the menu. Then he flips the page and points at a bold red image of a bottle, mouthing its name in perfect fluency. Two glasses, he adds. One for the entree, another for dessert.

“Red wine?” You ask, smiling. Charles doesn’t usually order wine.

“Well,” he says, beaming at you and then the waiter, “tonight is special for us.”

You have to wrestle with the grin that fights its way onto your lips, but you admit valiant defeat. “Very special indeed.”

The waiter departs and you recline, mind still racing. It’s only halted by a polite voice from your left—the girl at the table beside yours, asking with meek timidity: wedding tomorrow? She has this giddy smile on her face, like it’s her wedding or her dinner; her husband-or-boyfriend across her just smiles sheepishly. Sorry. I’m curious.

“Oh,” you say quietly, humming. “I got promoted.”

“And…” Charles says, lookin at you like you share a lovely little inside joke.

Your lips grow. “And?”

“This lovely girl doesn’t remember, but I proposed to her this time last year.” He gestures to your left hand. A ring, blending in with the others you usually wear, sparkles in the low light of the restaurant.

Proposed. Your eyes stay on him even as he looks away, devoting his attention to the conversation at hand. Then you nod, a few times, soft bobs of your head. “We’re having a June wedding,” you say fondly to the girl at the table adjacent. You love the way she lights up at the mention of it, at the added detail—she asks for more in accented English.

“How did you propose?” She turns to the guy in front of her, who’s smiling dopily. “We’ve been together a year, so he could use some ideas for the future, if you know what I mean.” They both share a laugh.

Charles hums, recalling the plan he’s thought of a million times over. He conjures the images of it, the memories of mapping everything out, perfecting every last minute detail. “I did it at our house. We live in Monaco, in this, ah—this nice, wide place on a hill.” You remember seeing the house for the first time, from Charles’ car. “I did not want a big fuss around it. I knew I wanted it to be just us.”

“Just us,” you murmur along, nodding. You’ve always known it’s what he wanted for both of you. Just you two against the world.

“So I bought her flowers, lit some candles, and we sat on the couch.” He pauses, like the next few moments are so sacred and so lovely that they deserve to be heard by nobody but you two. But if Charles is anything, he’s loud—loud when he talks, yells; loud when he loves. “And I played our favorite song, Harvest Moon,and I sat next to her and just talked, and I said it. I know it doesn’t sound romantic—”

“—but I cried,” you cut in, looking right at him. Cut off, his eyes flit to you, softening when they see your smiling expression. “I cried like a baby. He was… he meant every word he said. And I was lucky, I guess, that he knows me well enough to, you know—know exactly what I want.” The conversation ebbs into quiet a little bit after that, but you catch bits of how adorable and a June wedding from their own talk.

You eat in relative peace afterward—he talks about a funny story involving Carlos and stolen underwear from the gym locker room. You laugh, bubbling up your champagne, and Charles zips through two glasses of his own drink. Tonight is special, and warm, and you’re in France, and wine seems to be synonymous with the country, and everything, if just for now, makes perfect sense.

In between finishing dessert and the bill’s arrival, when the couple beside you have said their goodbyes and congratulations, and the restaurant has begun to quell its general noise, he takes your idle hand on the table. You look up from where you’d been staring at the puddle of tiramisu filling on your plate.

He’s staring. Charles is always aware of how often and how long he stares, extended gazes of your beautiful features. The awareness does not, however, cause the frequency to wane in the slightest. He still finds himself constantly enthralled by you. And even when he’s away, in a car going a million miles a minute, he finds you in his daydreams. That smile. 

Nothing, he says with a quaint smile. I love you.

The bill comes and he, of course, covers it—before you even get the chance to slide your card onto the table. You fuss over it. He stares at you like you’re worth everything and more and goes, with a little laugh, I just need a kiss.

His car is parked outside, valet this time, but the cobblestone is so inviting and quiet that he pays an extra few euros to let you both walk around first. You’re not the only couple along the Seine—in fact, you’re one of many, but your shared, hushed laughs make you both feel like you’re by yourselves. Charles knows all the detours, can pinpoint buildings from different vantage points, takes you on a voyage of Paris all his own. You will look back on this one day and think—your maps of cities, your maps of places, they’ve all been charted by him. 

He keeps insisting tonight should be special, like he’s trying to convince you. But you know just as well how special tonight is, how different it is from all the nights previous. You’re just quiet, you suppose, because you’d prefer to bask in this specialty, in Charles. You’re quiet because if you open your mouth for more than ten seconds, you’re going to spill your entire self out to the city. Tomorrow night will not be tonight, just as yesterday night was not tonight. This is just tonight. 

You’re guided through the cobblestone streets, arm around your waist. You’re so overcome with love you feel like hugging him, just now, just here in the middle of the street, breathe him in and sigh out little I love yous until somebody has to pass through, grunting about how PDA has gone too far.

“You know how…” he starts, and every time he starts a sentence that way, it’s almost always followed by something fairly nonsensical. You know how turtles can fly? You know how Van Gogh was in an affair with Mona Lisa? You know how the latest episode of The Kardashians had Kim and Kourtney fighting? You smile, laughing already, gesturing for him to proceed. “How we see the stars nearly every night?”

You hum.

“So sometimes, we forget they’re pretty. We think, oh, bah, stars. And then a few weeks, or months, later, we look up on a random evening and we’re shocked again. We go, wow, stars. They are beautiful.” He clutches at his heart to convey the emotion he’s describing.

“Yeah, what about?” You ask amusedly, turning slightly to him. 

“That is how I feel when I see you. Every time. That feeling when you see the stars after weeks.”

You breathe one, slippery inhale and then it leaves you shaky, wet, trembling. Your eyes tack themselves onto the stars. A chill rolls through you at the knowledge that you remind him of something so confusing, so beautiful, so strange. “I—God. I love you, you know.”

“Did you like my story?” He asks. He maintains his smile, his attitude, his goofiness. His little attempt to make you feel better. Unfortunately, it works every time without fail. You sniffle and roll your eyes, thankful that you haven’t devolved into a sobbing mess.

Then for the first time tonight, he breaks the precarious, near-perfect illusion: “You know, that is how I would really propose to you if I did it. I did give you that ring, remember?”

“I know,” you whisper, trying to fight tears. “I remember.”

“Don’t cry,” he quells softly. You keep freezing to dab at the corners of your eyes. He responds by pulling you into a side street so you don’t block anyone’s walk, allowing you to lean against the lamppost so he towers above you, eyes etched dark, saturated with genuine concern. “Come on, darling.”

“Charles,” you say thinly, and you’ve gone from coherent sentences to weak pleads. 

“Don’t cry.” It’s all he can say, gentle and loving and Charles. “It’s a special night.” It is a special night. It’s the night before your first day at your job across the globe.

It’s your last night in Europe, your last night before you leave, your last night before Charles becomes nothing but an apparition of your past. You’re beginning to realize how foolish this plan was, this wrecked and stupid plan, but God if you didn’t love how real it all felt. It felt like bliss, being a great big pretender.

It was—it should be a month ago now, give or take. You’d gotten the offer, accepted it, told Charles about it, and then you both had to sit with the idea of living across the world from each other. You’d wrestled with plans vis-a-vis your relationship, with timezones and the demand that came with the first year on the job. In the end it was something amicable.

In the end, it ended—but not without one last night together, stretching your dreams and future fantasies to their limit.

Charles will always love you like it’s his last chance to do so. He figures that means letting you fly, letting you pursue things that, if you didn’t, would keep you tethered to the same old things. So even if it rips him apart, and even if all he wants to do is drop everything and dance with you, to the quaint Paris traffic—he remains ever the reassuring one.

He remains, forever, the storyteller, the smiling figure that takes your hand across the table and squeezes once to say he loves you. The loud guy who would’ve, if he could, proposed in your now-sold house, surrounded by candles and music. You wish he could love you longer. You know he always will, in the same way you know the nature of his love will inevitably change when enough time passes.

“Things will change,” you say weakly.

“They will always change.”

“And will you remember me after all of it?”

“I will love you after all of it. I’ve loved you through everything else.” He says, pressing a gentle kiss to your eye. “You know that, right? I’ll just do it from afar this time.”

You swear, if love and hope and being young were ever enough to make things work, you swear—this would’ve worked. But the universe reminds you time and again that they are not.

So, when you kiss Charles for the last time, his eyes are twinkling with Paris moonlight, his lips taste like wine, and you get the special chance to relish in what once was, and what will never be again.

[agaypanic]

Every Night (Spider-Man!Chase Davenport X Reader)

Masterlist

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Summary: Chase Davenport is a Mission Creek High student who takes pictures by day, and a bionic web-slinging superhero who fights crime by night. Tonight, he swings by your place with a split lip, a bruised rib, and a wounded ego.

A/N: holy shit an actual fic instead of a shitpost, who would’ve guessed? spiderman au where chase is spiderman bc 📖anon and i agreed that chase davenport is totally peter parker coded (specifically andrew garfield’s). side note: if this was a full avengers au, chase would be spiderman, davenport would be iron man, adam would probably be thor, bree would be black widow, and leo would probably be captain america or the hulk (it’d be funny to see him go from this little stick figure to a giant beefy mutant man). This is most likely not medically accurate

***

“Hold that,” Chase muttered just loud enough for you to hear, adjusting the settings on his new camera. “Stay still.”

“Chase, lunch is gonna be over soon.” You teased, but still held your position as requested.

You heard your boyfriend take a picture, and then a few more. There were a few more flickers of the camera shutter before Chase got up and rounded the picnic table to sit next to you. “What do you think?” Chase asked, showing you the couple of pictures he had just taken.

“I think you make me look really pretty.”

“Nah.” Chase shook his head before kissing your cheek. “That’s all you.”

“Big flirt.” You smiled, taking the camera out of his hands and setting it on the table to kiss him without interruption. Unfortunately, the school bell didn’t get the memo about you wanting to be undisturbed. Chase pouted when you pulled away, making you laugh. “Will I see you tonight?”

Chase stood up, grabbing his camera and your hand. “You always do, babe.”

***

Chase was right; you always did see him. But your question should have been whether he’d come through your front door as Chase Davenport or through your window as Spider-Man. The follow-up question would have been whether or not he’d be bloody and bruised.

Unfortunately, the answer to both questions were the latter options tonight.

“You’re lucky my parents aren’t home,” you said as you helped your boyfriend into your room, trying to avoid the blood-saturated parts of his suit. “Who was it this time?”

“Green Goblin.” Chase winced, plopping down on your bed while he clutched his side. You grabbed the little first aid kit that you kept under your bed ever since finding out about your boyfriend’s super identity. “I was doing my patrol when he just flew by out of nowhere. I didn’t even feel him coming.”

You could hear Chase’s disappointment in his voice as he recounted the events. The fight was difficult, as the wounds you were helping him clean up proved. 

After wiping the blood off his chin from his split lip, you scooted back a little and gestured to Chase’s chest. “Suit off.”

“At least buy me dinner first.” Chase tried to laugh but instead groaned in pain as he pressed the spider emblem on his suit that loosened the once skin-tight fabric. You helped pull the suit off enough to reveal Chase’s chest. It was bruised, sweaty, and heaving. “Hey, my eyes are up here.”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes from his teasing and continued tending to Chase’s wounds. “You know, sometimes I wonder why you don’t go to Mr. Davenport for this. I’m sure Davenport Industries has actual nurses, or at least better medical supplies than a homemade first aid kit.”

Chase’s hand, a little shaky from his exhaustion, cupped your cheek, making you tear your eyes away from his purpling side. “I always visit you every night. A little beating isn’t gonna stop me from that.”

You scoffed. You wouldn’t exactly call this a ‘little’ beating. “Okay, but if you get some kind of infection or lifelong medical problem, don’t blame me.”

The rest of your aid was accompanied by silence. You were focused on cleaning Chase up to the best of your abilities, while he was focused on your focus. He wished he had his camera to capture the moment, ignoring the fact that he was wounded and in pain.

“Done,” you said after a long half hour. “Now, go take a shower. You’re all sweaty and gross.”

“I didn’t hear you complain when you were staring at my glistening abs.” Chase teased as he slowly stood up, kicking his suit off so he was only in his boxers.

You playfully swatted at him. “Just go. I’ll have a movie ready when you’re done.”

“And snacks?” Chase looked over his shoulder, looking at you with a pleading look. You nodded, following him out of your room, parting so he could go to the bathroom and you to the kitchen.

“And snacks.”

[megistusdiary]

Hi again LMAO

Can i request a gentle dom sampo eating out reader to help her destress from her studies??👉👈

i hope he comes home to you soon😔😔

With love, Cait Someone you dont know

omg hey ~ 🤭 sorry i disappeared for a few days there, everyone. chemistry is hard ‼️

i also hope sampo comes home. i saw his attack recently with the chocolate box or whatever and also his wink....panties? dropped.

wouldn't it be nice to have someone come relieve all the stress from studying... also this turned out long bc plot

gentle-dom!sampo x fem!(anatomy/pronouns) reader

warnings: 18+ content, minors dni!

oral (reader receiving), praise, sampo asking natasha for sex advice, gripping the hips (real), sampo is stronger than reader (enough to hold you still 😏), fluff and some after-care at the end!

"guess who's here?~" sampo called out, pushing the door closed with his hip and kicking his shoes off to the side.

when you didn't respond immediately, sampo tossed his hair to the side, taking in a deep breath. "i said, 'guess who's here?' it's a real surprise!" sampo grinned, sneaking around the corner towards the couch.

he jumped out, eyebrows furrowing when he realized you weren't sitting (even sleeping!) there. aeons...

sampo called out again for you before he heard frustrated paper crumpling from your room. "aha!"

sampo came barreling in, pushing your door open and scaring the shit out of you when you saw his shadow before you saw him.

the way you nearly jumped out of your skin had him doubling over. "that's right! it's me, the amazing, sampo koski! and i brought you," he paused to reveal a singular ruby-red rose, "a gift!"

it took him a moment to realize what was going on before he faltered, seeing crumpled up papers at your feet and books stacked a mile high on your desk.

"you're still studying? it's after dinner time. have you eaten yet?" sampo suddenly kneeled down next to you, laying the rose on your desk in favor of taking your hands instead.

"sampo, it's fine, i'm fine! really-"

"not acceptable!" he shook his head, wagging a finger in your face and pulling you up.

"i'm really not hungry, i just need to finish this."

you could see sampo pouting as you slumped back into the chair.

"won't you at least take a break and spend some time with me?" sampo whined when he sat back down by your feet, leaning his chin on your thigh.

"you're not a puppy."

"but aren't i as cute as one?" he gave you the biggest eyes he could manage, watching your lips quirk up as you shook your head at him.

"okay, okay." you turned to gather all your papers in a stack, standing up and kicking your failed notes into a pile. before you could pick them up, sampo was already collecting them in his arms.

"allow me!" he smiled up at you, dumping everything into the bin beside your bed.

"helpful and sweet, how did i get so lucky?" you mused, sitting on your bed, patting the spot next to you.

sampo, taking liberties, of course, flopped onto your bed on his stomach, rolling to rest his head on your lap. you carded your fingers through his hair, feeling him snuggle further into your thigh.

"what's got you so worked up anyways?" he questioned as you sighed deeply.

"school stuff. i've been studying some of these concepts for hours, but it doesn't even matter. i still don't get it."

"why don't you let me take your mind off of it for a little?" sampo suggested, looking up at you with a cheeky smirk as you scoffed at him.

"don't even-"

"i'm being one-hundred percent serious!" he rushed to sit up, almost knocking you in the jaw. "come on! let me make you feel good~"

"okay-" within seconds, sampo had you resting against the pillows on your bed, already peeling off your shorts. "woah, someone's eager."

"i've been thinking about this all day. you know, i was asking natasha about this stuff and i really think i've got the hang of it now."

your eyes widened, processing exactly what he meant. "sampo, have you been telling natasha about our sex life?"

sampo froze, fingers hovering over the waistband of your panties. "...was i not supposed to? you don't have anything to worry about! miss natasha is a doctor, after all."

you groaned, covering your face with embarrassment.

"i promise it'll feel good." sampo tugged your underwear down. you watched him fling the piece of cloth somewhere across the room, spreading your thighs and holding them down against you.

you felt shy, face heating up as he exposed you completely. he leaned down, hair tickling your thighs as he kissed your clit tenderly. your hands moved down, gripping his hair when he slid his tongue across your pussy.

little noises slipped out from your lips as he circled your clit, sucking on it gently every so often. mumbles of his name and whines came out as you shifted around, though to no avail beneath sampo's iron grip.

"good, so good-" sampo groaned into you, feeling you shiver from the vibrations.

you felt his tongue prod at your hole, circling around and collecting the slick, pressing in and feeling you clench around his tongue. your thighs trembled beneath his hands, feeling him holding you down firmly.

he moved back up to play with your clit, using the tip of his tongue to trace out the letters of his name and then yours as your soft moans turned into more breathy whimpers and cries.

he pressed you down further, exposing your pussy more for him as he breathed heavily against you, fingers twitching against your skin. "you're pretty like this. i like it when you're relaxed and enjoying yourself. you deserve a break." he cooed into you, trailing wet and messy kisses across your thighs.

"you think so?" you laughed, wiping the tears from the corners of your eyes.

"mhm," he nodded against you. "working too hard."

"oh- i'm sorry!" your hands pulled at his hair, hips jumping up against his grip when he played with you just right, pulling you closer against his lips.

your hearing began to turn fuzzy as you stared up at the ceiling, eyes fluttering shut as he mumbled something against you again, feeling vibrations course through your body as your orgasm built. "please..." you muttered, moving one hand up to grip the sheets as he sped up his actions.

sampo kept going, doing exactly what miss natasha told him to. he trusted her fully, glad that he went to her for guidance as you trembled underneath him now. he liked seeing you like this, away from your work and enjoying yourself for once. you were too cute, he thought to himself.

as soon as your orgasm hit, you twisted your fingers into your hair, riding it out as he collected the dripping slick from your hole.

you relaxed onto the bed, twisting your body when he continued to lap at your pussy. "sampo- hey, no more, ah-" you lightly batted at the crown of his head, feeling him pull away reluctantly.

"so...was it good?"

you laughed, feeling exhausted as your eyes closed against your will. "yeah...really good.."

sampo grinned, leaving briefly to grab a damp cloth, cleaning you up before depositing you into your bed. "a little nap is good once in a while." he decided aloud.

he tapped your shoulder quickly, watching you tiredly open your eyes. "i'm going to go get you something to eat. you stay here and sleep a little, okay?"

"don't have to tell me twice." you mumbled, rolling over and burying yourself into your blankets, drifting off into a peaceful, dream-filled sleep.

[jennifer-jeong]

Fluff + Slight Angst | Gojo x GN!Reader Kikufuku

SUMMARY Going to get food everyday with Gojo bc he loves trying new places and he used to do it sm with Geto and Shoko ):

CONTENT Mostly fluff, some angst, gender neutral reader, implied crush, lots of mentions of food, ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+

AUTHOUR NOTES GUESS WHO'S BACK FROM ROTTING DURING EXAMSSSSSS TAKE THIS DRAFT I FINISHED WHILE I WORK ON MY REQUESTS HEHEHEHEHEHE I WILL BE POSTING ALL MY STUFF SLOWLY MEHEEHEHHE Note that I can’t remember where I got this idea from (it's been sitting in a document for months and I only just got around to it) but I might've read it from somewhere (maybe a tiktok?) please lmk so I can give credit if this is the case!

WORD COUNT: 477

Satoru is your typical happy go lucky guy on the outside. He’s always walking around as if there’s not a single thought running through his mind. He’ll buy his favorite mochi while all the passersby swoon at his handsome self. You met the man not more than a few months ago when you joined Jujutsu High as a fellow staff member and you’ve gotten quite close. He’d always ask you if you wanted to get food after work and most of the time you'd say yes. But, for the first few weeks, sometimes you’d be busy or not feeling up to going out to dinner with your co-worker you just met. That quickly changed though.

Satoru gets quite lonely when you aren’t there with him and you've noticed after getting to know him. He's not anything he shows on the outside. He’s alone. He’s suffering. But he’s still so sweet. A month or 2 after meeting him, you’ve made it a mission to always get food with him even if you’re busy. If it’s not in person, you’re at the very least video or audio calling him so he can show you the food and talk to you while you both eat. Gojo loves trying new places because it feels refreshing. It makes him feel young again and you support it because you know his youth was robbed from him. You know that he used to get food everyday with Suguru and Shoko because he told you about it. You know he misses them by the way he talks about it and he knows you know. But, ignorance is bliss right? You're both just trying to live ignorantly happily while simultaneously healing from your respective pasts. What else could you really do?

Yesterday was takoyaki and Thai milk tea for dessert. Today was coconut curry and ice cream filled taiyaki. Tomorrow, Satoru is thinking Beijing style duck or maybe K-BBQ? Carbonara? Peri Peri Chicken? Enchiladas? Shawarma??? You always laugh when he goes on a tangent of what he wants to eat and try with you. You tease him by adding more options to the list and he clenches his fists dramatically and squeezes his eyes shut under his blindfold while whining that he can’t pick and that there’s too much good food. You occasionally have to reassure him that you have time and that you’re not going anywhere. You never fail to notice the blush on his ears when you soothe him like that and he never fails to see your fidgety hands as you say the gentle words to him. He feels so lucky to have your company and you can confidently say the same, in your thoughts of course. You wouldn’t tell him that out loud and he also finds himself too scared to try. At least, not yet. Maybe one day, over some kikufuku.

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

[orchidsangel]

Recently imagined Jason and y/n, his ex, meeting again after a few years. Still obviously caring about each other. Eating cake alone at the apartment and awaiting the New Year together. Not wanting to say that this is the least lonely, however sad-looking, night they've experienced since they split up.

(jumping off a cliff bc i missed the glaring "new year" part of this and was like "i'll get to this later" so sorry beloved, also this got more angsty than i intended.)

Exes to lovers with Jason is always in the back of my mind somewhere, eating away at my sanity. Just the idea that he loved you so hard he had to let you go, knowing the life he lived wasn't suitable for you. You told him you didn't mind, that he was so important to you that you could put aside the constant worry that would sit in your stomach like a rock every time he was off being Red Hood. You said it was fine, but he saw the way bags appeared under your eyes after too many nights of staying up for him, how you forgot to eat when he went too long without contacting you, and how the tears would slip past your lashes when you were patching him up.

At the end of it all, you had begged him to stay, telling him over and over how much you loved him. It killed him to tell you that that was the reason why it was ending, because you loved him too hard, and you were neglecting yourself because of it. He was sick, wondering if he'd made the wrong decision, wondering if this would only make things worse for you. So, despite the fresh ache in his heart, he still watched out for you, determined to make sure you thrived without him, and thrive you did.

It felt like it had been ages since the last time he saw you that couldn't be mistaken for stalking. Watching you from rooftops and alleyways, rushing fights to make sure he could see if you got home safely and intervene if there were any threats. It became routine for him to hang up his helmet at night once he knew you were safe in the confines of the apartment you once shared. What wasn't routine was you knocking on his apartment door at exactly eleven forty-seven pm on New Year's Eve with a sad-looking store-bought cake in your hands and an even sadder look on your face.

"I know we're not together anymore, but…"

Splitting a whole cake between the two of you on New Year's Eve instead of having a typical dinner had been your tradition for years. Jason took it very seriously, planning the cake in advance for weeks, testing different flavors, even going as far as calling you once in the middle of a fight, asking if you preferred chantilly or sponge. It was stupid to most people you told, but to you and Jason, it was the perfect way to end the year. Now, you stand before him, holding a cake that could never compare to the decadent black forest cake he had made the last time you'd spent New Year's together.

You look down at the cake and then back up at him, the familiar gleam of water in your eyes. He takes the container in one hand and uses the other to pull the door open more so you can come in. It had been a while since you'd been there last, but everything was the same. A wall with an extensive collection of weapons, a stack of books that only collected dust when he was gone for long periods of time, and a framed picture of Jason and Bruce from his robin days.

"How'd you know where to find me?"

"Lucky guess."

Not a lucky guess, the first place you'd told him you loved him.

He roots around a drawer, pulling out two forks and handing one to you. Silence hangs in the air, several year's worth of unspoken feelings lingering with nowhere to go but up. he pops the lid off the container and gestures for you to take the first bite, another tradition that came with his hours of cake-making; he'd always insist on you having the first taste so you could give feedback and you only ever had positive things to say. Now, the weak taste of vanilla paired with a dry crumb, and your mouth turns downward into a frown.

"I don't think it's that bad."

"You'll eat anything."

"True."

No, it wasn't that bad. In fact, before you'd met Jason, this was something you probably would've treated yourself to when life decided to be good to you, but he had spoiled you, given you so much more than you even knew was out there, and it wasn't all material.

Three minutes to New Year's now, and approximately six bites taken out of the cake, five from Jason, and you're ready to part ways again with you leaving him this time. There's still time to make a run for it and ring in the new year without the baggage of your ex hanging over you; there's still time to pretend your world wasn't shattered when he left.

"Why are you here? Why not spend New Year's with your friends?"

"Friends?"

"The people I always see you with when I-"

"Watch me?"

"Am on patrol."

"Right."

"Why aren't you with them?"

"Not friends, coworkers."

"You're with them all the time."

"Workplace comradery."

"So, friends."

Thirty seconds now, and the words you still haven't said are on the tip of your tongue and in the back of your mind, egging you on to admit the feelings you've been sitting on for what feels like forever. He beats you to it.

"Please come back to me."

"I'm not the one who left."

Fireworks go off outside, signifying the beginning of a new year, and you and Jason stand across from each other. Physically, only the kitchen island stands between you two, but emotionally, you're still miles apart. You can't hear in his words how much he needs you back in his life, how hard it is for him every night to not climb in through your window and find his spot in the bed you'd shared like he'd done so many times before; and he can't hear in your words how the wound he left in your heart never healed, how it never even started to, and how through him leaving, you found out that time doesn't heal all things.

[romana-after-dark]

Tell Me (Repost)

Dark!Miguel O'hara x fem!reader

Masterlist : Taglist

I posted this months ago and by the morning it only had like 6 likes by the morning lmfao and this was during the peak of Miguel days and I thought "wow this must be terrible" so I deleted it. However, it did well on AO3 so i decided to just report it.

Miguel tries to extract information from you via any means necessary DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

OH MY GOD DO NOT EAT IF YOU DONT LIKE DEAD DOVES

This is not like The Wrong Way where Joel alternates between horrific and soft. THIS IS JUST PLAIN DDDNE.

WARNINGS!!!!: DDDNE!!! Rape, non con, torture, verbal humiliation, degradation, forced anal, biting (fang baby), literally idk what got into me here, it's literally porn with no plot. I almost always have so much plot. Victim blaming, psychological torture, I want to reiterate its literally rape. I wanted to write for Miguel bc he's a hottie and spiderverse was amazing but lets be honest, its pretty popular on tumblr rn. However, I refuse to write without inspiration, so I won't just write something just bc it's popular. Besides, this may have gotten so far on the dark side it's not even gonna be liked XD anyway, i had genuine inspiration and I went with it. All apoligies.

700 words

*****************************

“Tell me.” Miguel O’hera grabbed your throat as you hung from the ceiling. He had been trying for hours to extract the information he wanted, using multiple forms of torture and you were exhausted, but refused to tell him what he wanted. When his hands began trailing your body, you knew the next method would be psycho-sexual.

“I’m not…” You gasp as a finger grazes over your tit. “I’m not telling you anything…”

“Hm.” was his non committal answer before cutting your ropes, watching you tumble onto the concrete. “I guess we’ll see.”

Only taking a moment to breath, you try to scramble away, but to where you aren’t sure. There’s nowhere to go, and a large man climbs on top of you hold your wrists together in on fist as his other undid his pants. You writhe underneath him, but screaming is useless.

“Get off me!” You kick and twist and scrape up your whole body that's exposed in the bra and underwear you were left hanging in, the cold floor ice against your skin. “GET OFF!”

“Oh, I’ll get off alright…” Miguel mumbles as he rips your bra off. “Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll stop.”

You weren’t sure you believed him, but you didn’t want to give up the information. Even as he strips off his pants, his insanely large frame keeps you pinned to the floor. There is no escape.

Miguel mumbles and scoffed ‘fine’ and two hands rip off your underwear, tossing the scraps aside. You scream as he pushes his fat tip into you, ripping you open slowly, slowly… allowing you to feel every inch, every vain, every hard and warm and pulsing part of him. “You can still stop this, carino.”

“No!” You whimper, deadset and determined to stay strong. You wouldn’t let him break you.

“Have it your way.” Dragging his hips back, Miguel pauses before he thrusted into you band fucks you mercilessly, you can feel the raw pain of him sliding in and out of you as you cry out, initially dry. The most humiliating part, however, came after several minutes of hm trying to coax the information out of you, slapping your face until your mouth bled, when he began laughing. “Oh my god, are you getting wet from this? So fucking pathetic.” 

Miguel looked down on you, your body wracked with pain and jolting with each thrust, he could practically feel your will breaking. “You probably enjoy this, do you play out scenarios like this with some pathetic little dicked man? Does it turn you on, knowing you have no choice? Little whore been fucked so many times she needs to feel like she’s being forced just to get wet?” His chuckle was dark and cruel as he continued to taunt you, your tears falling down your bloodied and bruised face. 

“You’re lucky I’m even touching this used up cunt.” Miguel leans over, licking at the tears and blood and spit on your face. “Tell me, and I’ll stop fucking your pussy. TELL ME!” He screams, painfully loud in your ear.

You break, telling him what he wanted. There wasn’t a part of you that really believed he’d stop, so you were surprised when he pulled out.

When he rolled you over, you began to ask. “What are you-” but are cut off by him ramming his cock up your ass. “FUCK!!!” You scream. He wasn’t lying, he did stop abusing your pussy, only to rip our asshole open.

“God, look at you…” Miquel sat back to admire his work, smirking at the way your ass contracted and spread around his thick cock. “I’d say you were made for me, but…” Chuckling, he slaps your ass. “But I can see how much you’re struggling to make room for me. No ones ever fucked you like this, have they? You should be thanking me.” Fangs dug sharply into your shoulder, drawing out more blood. “SAY THANK YOU!” Your ears rang with his screamed words, before another bite. “SAY IT!” He bit and screamed and bit and screamed until you finally cave.

“Thank you!” You sob, and he cums inside your ass with a loud, strangled groan.

Only when you shudder from the cold do you realize he’s gotten off you, his impossibly wide frame no longer covering you. Miguel tosses you a blanket, muttering something about how he may just have to keep you now.

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