#i have more thoughts but dunno how to word them

[cottonlemonade]

First Date

word count: 1251 || avg. reading time: 5 mins.

pairing: University AU!Tsukishima x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

request: i have been giggling and squealing for the past 20 minutes over how cute and genius the request form is 😭 LIKE ITS SO SMART AND ADORABLE I HAD TO SAY SOMETHING ABOUT IT. so anyways me and Tsukishima are getting 15 and 25 for breakfast, and then we'll go home to study! || fluffy, members of the same club, first date with crush Tsukki

Tsukishima never subscribed to the tradition of New Year's resolutions. In his mind, why bother setting unrealistic goals for oneself only to be disappointed? Whenever his friends and family asked, never learning their lesson, he would adjust his glasses and say, “Nothing.”, then silently add get saltier 2025. When he entered the gym for the first time after the winter break, however, he had to rethink. You were standing on a little stepladder, struggling to detach the last bit of Christmas decoration you had insisted on hanging on the walls before everyone went home for the holidays. Your chubby tummy looked even softer now bumping out your seasonal sweater.

“You know, if you can’t take them down by yourself, maybe you shouldn’t have put them up in the first place.”, he grumbled.

“Oh, hey, and a happy new year to you, Tsukki!”, you said brightly, turning to him and waving.

His heart did a little jump at the gesture.

Unfortunately, he had fallen for you pretty early on in your career as club manager when you bonded over your mutual hatred of overzealous people and loud obnoxious music played in department stores, and artificial watermelon flavor. He had since imagined you two walking across campus hand in hand, sharing more things to despise together. But in order to do that, he had to ask you out first. A hurdle he decided to take this year.

In his first draft of a date idea, he wanted to invite you out to dinner, but that was strongly vetoed by his wallet. Thus, a simple coffee would have to do for now. He shifted slightly, tapping the tip of his shoe on the floor to find an angle with which to direct the conversation where he needed it. Lucky for him, you did it yourself, although not in a way he hoped.

“Mikoshiba asked me out over Christmas, by the way.”

Tsukishima grimaced. He hated both the thought and the easy-going redhead, who all too much reminded him of the former Nekoma captain.

“Ah.”, he said, looking at a despicably jolly Santa bauble in the box sat on the top of the stepladder. An internal battle between wanting to ask for details and immediately smack-talking the other guy rose in his chest. Again, you made it easy for him.

“I didn’t go, though.”

“Hm. How come?”

You finally got the end of the garland off the wall, with no help from the tall boy, who could have grabbed it without effort.

He was met with a shrug.

“Not really my type. And he asked me out for coffee, which, I dunno, just feels pretty uninspired for a first date. I get that it’s a classic, but I wouldn’t mind some creativity.”, you hopped back onto the floor, “Plus, cafés around here are super overpriced.”

“Right.”

After trying your best to stuff the long prickly decoration into the box, you went to put it all away and, looking over your shoulder, you saw that he hadn’t moved from his spot next to the ladder where you left him.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but something about him was off today. More so than usual. Box in your arms, you came to a halt in front of a closed door. You turned on your heel, tilting your head in question.

“Could you open the door to the supply closet, please?”, you asked sweetly, since there was no indication he would be coming to your aid. He seemed deep in thought.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. Sure.”

It only took him three steps with those long legs to reach you. Before he pushed down the door handle, however, he said, “There is a limited New Year’s hot bun out at the convenience store.”

You blinked in confusion.

“Okay?”

“It’s one with sweet potato noodles and stuff. You like those.”

“I… I do. Thanks, I’ll check it out.”

The door remained closed, his hand still on the handle.

“There is a two-for-one sale.”, he went on after a pause.

You frowned, so completely lost as to the point of this conversation because it was obviously not informing you of a banging sale. “... Nice.”

He suppressed an impatient click of his tongue. This was going horribly, how dense could someone be?

“We can go together.”, he said.

“Alright…?”

“Like… today. I’m going there now anyway. I wouldn’t mind if you came along.”

“Uhm. Okay, yeah, I can do that.”

“Okay.”

“So are you gonna open this door any time soon or…”

“Right.”

Tsukki didn’t speak much with you as you headed to the convenience store. He pointed out a dog in a sweater for no reason at all and then went silent again. You still couldn’t figure out why he wanted you to come with him. Usually, he avoided any unnecessary social situation and in your opinion, this was as unnecessary as it got. You were roughly 94 percent sure he could handle getting the buns by himself.

“We should just eat here while we’re at it.”, he said as the glass doors slid open.

Maybe he had trouble with his roommate again and wanted to prolong going home, you speculated. In that case, you were pretty touched that he preferred your company over having none at all.

Food was gathered and warmed up and you took the two free seats at the small wooden table by the onigiri shelf. Watching you struggle to open a can of soda for a few seconds he took it from you with a surprisingly gentle, “Here. Let me.” then set it back down in front of you.

“Thanks.”

You ate in silence. Some current chart songs were coming from the overhead radio and you lightly bobbed your head along as you bit happily into the delicious hot bun. Tsukki placed a fried dumpling he had picked out as well on the plastic lid of your open container. “Try these. They’re good.”

“Famks.”, you mumbled through stuffed cheeks of sweet potato noodles and stuff, then eyed him suspiciously as you swallowed.

Either he was trying to discreetly poison you or, “Tsukki… is … is this a date?”

“What? No.”, he said quickly and lowered his head when the store clerk looked over.

“Oh okay. Just making sure.” You went back to the food, spearing the dumpling with your chopsticks but keeping an eye on him.

“If it were, it would be definitely more creative than a café though, right?”

You paused midair to your bite.

“So this is a date.”

“Yes. - No. I dunno. Don’t make it weird, okay?”

You slowly spun the dumpling around, studying Tsukki’s pink ear tips.

Never in a million years would you have guessed that this guy, who never had a nice word for anyone and less enthusiasm than a snail on a Sunday afternoon, could ever ask you out.

You considered him for a moment. He was pretty cute the way he avoided your gaze now. It was worth a try.

“Do you… like jazz?”

Tsukki squinted at you in disbelief.

“What’s wrong with you?”, he furrowed his brow but was unable to hide a relieved chuckle in there.

“Well, it was getting awkward so when in doubt, Bee Movie to the rescue.”, you laughed in your defense.

He finally cracked a proper smile and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Agh, okay, the next date is going to be better, I swear.”

You both nodded and grinned quietly at your dumplings, then continued to eat.

a/n: 🥺🥺🥺 dear anon, thank you so so much for that sweet message and I apologize about the delay! I hope you enjoyed this story nonetheless 🌟

Also borrowing Mikoshiba for this aka the only straight character from Free!

[arcane-ish]

Btw here's Amanda saying exactly same of the "sins of the fathers" line 2 years ago/in a post s1 AMA, not just in a post s2 interview (idle is Alex Ye, Leeloo is Amanda Overton)

In the end, people cannot control how they react. It can be as simple as "that character wears the same kind of a shirt as the kid who bullied me in school and so I will always perceive them as bad regardless of what the text of the show says or the intent of the writers was".

Imo the text of the show was clear on them not being bio brothers ("old friend", "you were my brother", "he was like a brother to you", Silco describing his revolutionaries gang as brothers and sisters against the world).

To me the statements of the writers suggest pretty firmly they had other metaphors (fathers, partners, bizarro reflections of each other). That doesn't mean that "kinda like brothers" wasn't part of those metaphors but it just clearly wasn't the only one and it was still clearly still "kinda like brothers" and not "literally, biologically brothers".

And as you said, they don't vibe like brothers so it's not even like they accidentally wrote them interacting like bio brothers.

I also don't think they were trying to brotherzone them. I just genuinely think for them, yes despite the importance they have for the vibe of the setting, they just don't have enough high priority. So I don't think writing either as shippy or non shippy was that much of a priority. (See how in season 2 Warwick's character clearly exists mainly as a setup/stepping stone for the story of the sisters, which is not a complaint, it's just their hierarchy of importance)

And why should they? Zaundads despite the in jokes is still a relatively minor ship and fans aren't exactly known to flock old dudes with significantly less screentime in a show of conventionally hot people.

Imo the writers were saying plenty about the relationship (ie different aspects of Zaun, on opposite sides but same goal,

I dunno, League canon is just so full of literal brothers but also pseudo brothers, I just never struck me as odd that "brother" is used as a replacement for "really close relationship", especially within the context of both revolution and something really gritty and physical like mining.

(to me it actually seems a lot more odd for people in an intellectual setting like with Jayce and Viktor to use that word with each other, especially since Silco's speech makes it clear that brothers and sisters is used more broadly)

As for people mistaking them for brothers... I dunno? Again the show I think with terms like "old friend" and "like a brother to you" is quite clear that it is not literal biological brothers. If people don't pay attention to the dialogue of supporting characters I can't help them? Like with my "a shirt like my bully", you cannot account for everybody's experience?

Maybe for some it's a kneejerk reaction of "old dudes being gay romantic is icky so I'm gonna throw myself into brothers despite what the text has always said"? Maybe for some it's some sort of cultural issue where they genuinely have never heard of any brothers in arms, revolutionary brotherhood, brothers and sisters in Christ stories/speeches/lyrics?

Maybe in some cultures and/or social classes it is more or less frequent that you call a friend a brother/a bro?

But your original question was how it came about. I gave my best take: they never thought of them as bio brothers, their main theme was sind of the fathers, they didn't think of them that deeply and they can't account for every weird reaction or misinterpretation people have to their text? (See the vastly different takes on "dirt under your nails" and that was on their premiere canon OTP)

So like wtf even was zaundads.

I mean from the perspective of the writers room. Because S1 vander and silco were actually genuinely very sibling coded. In a weird uncomfortably homoerotic vibes way, yes, but a proper effort was made in the writing to parallel them strongly with vi and jinx, and they kept calling each other ‘brother’ instead of having it be one line said to a different character (cough jayvik cough).

Then s2 does the brokeback mine jackets thing and it’s like ok sure whatever. Then you get to episode 7 and. They are 1000% a couple. Like they are DADS and clearly wifing each other up HARD. And I would say maybe it’s a case of animators going rogue if it were just stuff like silco running his horny ass fingertip along vander’s bra strap or whatever:

But it’s in the writing too! Having Benzo do the chronic third wheel ‘ugh’ when silco and vander do their gay lil heart eyes toast… that felt LOUD.

Like I really just don’t know what to make of a show that sibling codes two dudes so successfully in s1 that a large chunk of the audience thought they were biological brothers, then does THAT in s2. I mean I love zaundads and I love s2e7!!! But these writers…..

I’m not sure the shippers are the ones who get confused between romantic and brotherly vibes tbh 😅

[nickrocketrodriguez]

As part of a writer room, since it's a collective work, do you sometimes have to put aside your "real" self from your "writer" self? The wording is horrendous, but for example, when it comes to shipping, you like the trope of a certain ship and would like for them to happen, but as a writer you know that it wouldn't actually make sense for the characters? It just seems so hard to me to have dicern "good" ideas from selfish baseless wishes so I wonder how it's managed in a writer room.

Ooooh, a craft question! I love these.

So, basically, yeah, you DO have to set aside what you want from what is right for the story, because those are often not aligned. At the end of the day, if the Nublar Six were real people, I want them to all be happy and healthy and live conflict-free until forever. But that's not good story.

When you're in the room trying to tell the most interesting and meaningful/emotionally resonant story for these people, you can't do what you want with them -- you have to do what the story demands thematically. That's why we have writers rooms: we're constantly discussing not only what's cool, but what makes sense, both logically and emotionally. Thankfully for our room, we were all very aligned with what we thought the story was from the very beginning. There definitely some pitches I fought for that maybe weren't right for the show and we more based in what I wanted to have happen -- but that's part of the job. Discerning between ideas you like and ideas that make sense and ideas that make sense but are also surprising is a very tough muscle to work out, but that's all it is -- a muscle. That's why a good writers room will have long discussions about practically every choice to see if it actually works and means something for the story and the characters. It's also my favorite part of the process. And I like to think I only got better at this throughout our time in the room together, and that I'm continuing to get better at this on the new show I'm on.

Philosophically, I believe that, VERY often, what we want to see happen in stories are and what should happen in them are complete opposites. We don't necessarily want our favorite characters to be in conflict and find opposition -- but the problem is that without all of that, the characters don't shine their brightest or learn their lessons, and therefore neither does the audience. It's something that I wish chronically online fandoms would understand better so that they don't turn around and throw hate at people who are trying to tell good stories. Like, trust me, you don't want an entire episode where the characters just talk and laugh and have a fun little barbecue with their dinosaur friends. You'd be bored to fucking tears and your favorite characters wouldn't be people, they'd just be... I dunno, cardboard cutouts of the ideas of people.

Maybe it's not even about separating the two sides of yourself, but about acknowledging both sides within the scope that stories are not just a series of cool or nice events. Stories all come down to conflict, especially conflict between people, and the puzzle of writing a show is determining which conflicts mean the most and allow for emotional reactions and revelations, etc. If you're just watching the show for the dinosaurs (and I know some do), then you're missing out on all of the more important aspects of the story that was being told.

I think I got a little off-track there, but thanks for coming to my TEDTalk.

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic Preview

A sneak peek of the next chapter of Come Away, O Human Child

“Where did all the water go?”

“All right, you can just drop Chris off at Abuela’s after you two get back from the pier today…she’s gonna keep him overnight,” Eddie says as he enters the kitchen, still threading his belt through the loops on his pants.

Buck salutes him half-heartedly with his coffee mug, still mostly asleep and slumped over on the kitchen table. He makes a vaguely content noise when Eddie runs his hand through his hair on the way to the coffeepot, reaching up to snag his partner’s wrist and reeling him in for a brief, toothpaste-flavored kiss before letting him go. He watches Eddie fill his travel mug and add cream and sugar to his liking, enjoying the way the early-morning sunlight creeping in through the window over the sink paints his partner’s skin in warm, golden light.

“You sure you still feel like taking him out? You could just go see a movie or something—or even just hang out and play video games all day. He won’t be disappointed,” Eddie says, rifling through the pantry and pulling out a couple of protein bars. Bobby will no doubt have an actual breakfast going at the firehouse. Just last week, Buck probably would have woken Chris up a little early and following Eddie in to eat at the 118 before setting out with Chris on their planned adventure.

He doesn’t want to right now, though. He doesn’t want to even see Bobby, and he knows he wouldn’t be able to hide his upset from the rest of the team.

“Yeah, ‘course,” he mumbles finally, when Eddie turns back to him with a raised eyebrow and he realizes he hasn’t actually answered the question. He sits up, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Eddie presses his lips together, glancing at his watch before sitting down at the table across from him. He slides his hand onto the tabletop, turning it over so his palm is open in invitation, and Buck takes it in an instant. “You’ve been really quiet since the party. And I mean…I know I said I’d give you time to get your head around whatever it is. But…I dunno, I just don’t want you to think I haven’t noticed.”

Buck’s hand tightens around Eddie’s, almost involuntarily. The words, combined with the genuine concern and care he can read in his partner’s dark eyes, settling like a warm, solid weight in his chest. “I’m all right,” he says softly, and for the moment it’s almost true.

Eddie watches him a moment longer, his gaze sharp and assessing, before finally nodding. “All right. But I still mean it—we’re sitting down while Chris is at Abuela’s and we’re hashing everything out. We’ve got this, okay?”

Buck both desperately wants and desperately wants to avoid that conversation. He is ashamed to admit it, but he’s afraid to tell Eddie what he learned about what Bobby has been doing behind the scenes to delay his recertification. Afraid to tell him about the conversation he had with Eddie’s mother right before the shield ceremony. Try as he might, he cannot drown out the part of him insisting that Eddie will agree with them. Maybe not at first…but after he has time to sit back and really think about it? After he takes a good, hard look at their arguments and reasons?

Unwanted thing. Unloved thing.

He shakes his head, trying to banish the queasy feeling in his gut that never quite vanishes lately. Deep down, he knows it’s not really fair to assume what Eddie’s thoughts will be—isn’t that partially how he got into the whole mess of not being able to speak about his curse with people who don’t already know about it? He knows he’s not doing right by Eddie, not doing right by this new thing that has sprouted between them and quickly become the most important of all the roots grounding Buck in LA…but he can’t bring himself to stop, either.

Unwanted.

“I know we do,” he says instead, swallowing back all his fears, all his doubts, swallowing them down and forcing them aside for just a little longer. Just a little more time, he thinks…a little more time to soak up this up, to wrap himself in the beautiful, impossible dream of this life, this family, this man for just a little longer.

Wait…that…that makes no sense. Eddie’s not…he hasn’t given any indication that he’s not just as in this as Buck is. He isn’t acting like it’s all temporary. He’s pulled Buck right into the center of his family, with him and Chris. He’s carved out space in his home, his life, offered it all up to Buck. Eddie’s mother is wrong. Eddie’s not going to just toss him aside for someone else—he would never do that to Buck. Why is he—

His head aches.

Poor unwanted thing…

“Where did all the water go?”

*

The water rushes around him, battering, pulling, clawing at his body. Debris slams into him—wood, garbage, carnival toys, branches, food, the collected detritus of the boardwalk that is now underwater and he can barely cling to the string of lights stretching over him. His ocean boon burns on his chest, the magic Sara and Rafael gifted him with feeling like acid dripping through him as he turns his head and vomits up water he’d swallowed. The boon makes it hard for him to drown in seawater—will help him stay afloat, will force his body to expel water, can increase his lung capacity.

But it is not gentle about it.

“Christopher!” he screams. “Chris!” He searches the churning, frothing water, his eyes darting over the debris bobbing along like toys in some giant’s bathtub. Cars and bikes and shopping bags and canvas tents that had housed boardwalk games, God how will he find Chris in all this? “Chris!” he screams again, his throat burning, panic choking him. All he can hear is the roar of water, the ocean tearing into the land, racing through the streets and upending everything. He can’t find him. Then, faintly, so faintly he almost misses it:

“Buck!”

He gasps, pulling himself up as far out of the water as he can. “Chris? Chris!” He scans his surroundings, his heart pounding, fear and adrenaline crashing through him. Finally, finally he catches a glimpse of the yellow shirt Christopher was wearing, a small, dark head bobbing above the torrent. Chris clings to a streetlamp, a few dozen yards away. “Christopher! I see you! I’m coming!”

There is no room for hesitation, for planning. He closes his eyes, centers himself, and lets go of the cable, plunging back down into the rushing water. The boon pulses on his chest and he lets the magic take him, his perfect faith in the gift his friends had given him carrying him as he cuts through the wild water like an arrow, aiming as best he can for Chris. The current is strong, impossible to fight, and even the ocean boon can’t give him the power he’d need to completely control his trajectory. He ducks under the water and comes up again, straining towards the lamppost Chris is barely hanging onto. He’s a strong swimmer even without the ocean boon, always has been, but the water rushing around him is a force of nature, utter chaos. He’s not going to be able to hit the post head on, the current tugging him to the side, pushing him away, away, away.

“Grab my hand!” he bellows desperately, turning over on his back and trying to tread water, slow himself enough to give Chris time to orient himself; get ready. “Reach out and grab my hand!”

Chris tries. For a split-second Buck thinks he’s going to make it and he strains forward, kicking against the water, reaching for Chris as hard as he can.

“No! No, no!” Not far enough. The tips of his fingers barely brush Christopher’s, the water carrying him away before he can latch onto the boy’s hand. For a moment, he thinks Chris is going to let go of the pole to try and dive after him and new horror rushes through him. “No, Chris! Stay right there!”

“I can’t hold on!” Christopher screams, terror cracking his small voice.

“Just hold on, Christopher!” he begs, searching for something, anything he can grab and brace himself on. Chris is going to lose his grip. It’s going to happen and Buck will have one chance to save him. One chance to reach him. If he loses Christopher now, he’ll die. He’ll drown in the frothing, rabid waves or he’ll be crushed by some flooded debris, but he will die. Buck has one chance.

He catches a drift of debris out of the corner of his eye—piled up vehicles, maybe some kind of food cart, with what looks like a surfboard sticking out further into the water—and twists his body, pulling towards it until he fetches up hard against the board. Christopher howls his name as he pulls himself from the water, turns, braces himself ready to leap.

He has one chance.

Christopher’s grip slips from the streetlamp.

"Where did all the water go?"

[moutainrusing]

lake

340 words, no warnings, @dorlenemicroficprompts

Everyone always went to the Astronomy Tower to meet up – which was weird, Dorcas thought, because how could they all coordinate it so that none of them bumped into each other? Did they have a rota? – but she and Marlene wouldn’t know about that, because they decidedly had their own meeting place.

The boathouses, beside the Black Lake.

As she gazed across the murky water, Dorcas noticed Marlene’s face coming into the reflection, and she commented, “S’cold out, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Marlene agreed, eyes flicking between the orange beacons that glimmered across the ripples of the lake. She turned to Dorcas, “How was your day?”

“Pretty chill,” Dorcas shrugged.

“No,” Marlene whined, “Give me more details, otherwise you’re just dry.”

“What’s wrong with being dry?”

“You’re boring,” she deadpanned.

“You’re the one who came to see me.”

“Because,” Marlene rolled her eyes. “Everyone else is doing whatever they do—”

“Meeting in the Astronomy Tower,” Dorcas cut in.

“You know what, that’s true. I dunno how they all fit it in, I swear Mary and Lily were going up there tonight, but also Remus, James and Sirius, and I’m thinking, how? Are there… multiple sets of Astronomy Towers or something? Are they all on different planes of the same universe?”

Dorcas snorted, “Maybe all of them are canoodling and they’re leaving us out. Reg said he was going up there. And Pandora. So did Barty and Evan.”

“Maybe they take turns snogging the teacher.”

“That’s gross, Marlene.”

“I’m just saying,” she raised her hands defensively. “Maybe they’re helping out with Astronomy equipment. Getting extra pocket money from it.”

“Maybe they’re staring at the sky and comparing each other to stars.”

“Oh, Sirius,” Marlene imitated in James’s voice. She clutched her heart, “You’re simply the brightest star in the sky.”

“Surprisingly good imitation,” Dorcas praised.

Marlene grinned, “Aw, cheers babes. You and I are better off here, staring at a lake together than engaging in Astronomy Tower weirdness, yeah?”

Dorcas pursed her lips to hide her smile. “Sure.”

“So dry,” Marlene complained.

[makeucrawl]

PRIESTERMAN

COYLE

NSFW

YES FATHER

“Kneel for me”

Father Easterman fucks Coyle in a church~

((Coyle is kinda OOC in this. I was too into priest easterman okaaaay???? Also this is incredibly long cause I’ve been thinking about priest easterman waaaaay too much.))

“You’ve been thinking about me, haven’t you, Leland?” The voice was low, soft, almost a whisper, yet it cut through the stillness of the confessional like a blade.

Coyle’s heart pounded, each beat echoing in his ears as his fingers dug into the edge of the wooden bench beneath him. His throat tightened, his mouth dry, the air in the small space suddenly too thick. He couldn’t see Father Easterman through the lattice screen, but he felt him—his presence filling the confined space, oppressive and inescapable.

He tried to respond, but his voice failed him, leaving only the sound of his shaky breathing. Swallowing hard, he finally forced out, “I… dunno what ya mean, Father.” The words came out trembling, unconvincing.

A low chuckle drifted through the screen, rich and knowing. “Don’t lie to me, Leland. I saw the way you looked at me during Mass. The way your eyes lingered on my hands when I placed the Eucharist on your tongue.”

Coyle’s face burned, the heat spreading to the tips of his ears. He wanted to protest, to deny it, but he couldn’t. The memory of those hands—graceful, deliberate—had haunted him ever since.

Those fingers, pushing the wafer into place, forcing his throat to flex as he swallowed. And now, here they were, alone in the dim light of the confessional, and all Coyle could think about was how badly he wanted those same fingers wrapped around his cock.

“I…” Coyle’s voice cracked, and he shifted uncomfortably on the bench, his hands trembling. “I know it’s…wrong, Father. That’s why I’m here. To confess.”

Silence followed, heavy and expectant. For a fleeting moment, Coyle dared to hope the priest might let it go, offer absolution, and dismiss him with penance. But then Father Easterman spoke again, his voice softer now, almost gentle.

“Tell me, Leland… What do you think of when you look at me?”

The question struck him like a blow, stealing the breath from his lungs. Coyle froze, shame and panic rising in his chest. He couldn’t answer that—not truthfully. Not here. And yet, the priest’s tone, calm and coaxing, pulled at something deep within him, urging him to speak.

“I… I can’t, Father,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Another chuckle, darker this time, laced with something almost predatory. “You can’t, or you won’t? Remember, God already knows your thoughts, Leland. There’s no hiding from Him. But saying it aloud… that’s how you unburden your soul.”

The air felt charged, the space between them humming with tension. Coyle’s breathing quickened, his body leaning unconsciously closer to the screen. His mind raced, battling the shame and the overwhelming desire to let the words out.

“I’ve thought about… your hands,” he admitted finally, his voice hoarse, trembling. “On me. Touching me- I’ve thought about you telling me what to do. Making me kneel for you…”

The confession tumbled out, raw and unfiltered, and the moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them. His entire body tensed, bracing for the priest’s condemnation. But the silence that followed was not cold or angry. It was something else—something thick, weighted, and charged with unspoken intent.

And then he heard it: a sharp, audible inhale on the other side of the screen.

“Is that so?” Father Easterman murmured, his tone laced with a quiet amusement, almost teasing. “Tell me more, Leland. What other sinful thoughts have you entertained?”

Coyle���s stomach twisted, his arousal warring with his guilt. He couldn’t believe he was saying these things out loud—especially here, of all places—but now that he’d started, he couldn’t seem to stop.

“I’ve imagined… your mouth on me- o-on my cock.. Taking me deep until I… until I spill down your throat.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy and forbidden, and Coyle immediately wished he could take it back. He felt exposed, raw, his deepest desires laid bare for the priest to dissect.

For a long moment, Father Easterman said nothing. Then, slowly, deliberately, he leaned closer to the screen, his voice dropping to a murmur.

“And what if I told you, Leland, that I’ve thought about you, too?”

Coyle’s breath caught, his entire body going rigid. What was that? His mind reeled, struggling to process the words.

But before he could respond, the latch on the confessional door clicked open, and the priest stepped inside, his tall, lithe frame filling the cramped space.

Coyle’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of him—the stark black of his clerical dress, the white collar pressed against his throat, the sharp lines of his face softened by the dim light filtering through the screen.

Father Easterman reached out, his long, delicate fingers trailing along the line of Coyle’s jaw before sliding down to grip his chin firmly.

“Open your mouth,” the priest commanded, his voice low and steady, leaving no room for argument.

Coyle obeyed without hesitation, his lips parting instinctively. Father Easterman’s thumb brushed against his lower lip, cold and calloused, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Such a good boy,” the priest murmured, his dark eyes gleaming with something that made Coyle’s stomach flip. “Now, let’s see if you can take me as well as you’ve imagined.”

Coyle’s pulse throbbed in his ears, his entire body trembling as Father Easterman leaned in closer, his free hand tangling in Coyle’s hair, pulling just enough to make him moan.

“Remember,” the priest whispered, his breath hot against Coyle’s ear, “this is your penance.”

The air in the confessional was thick, suffocating, and charged with something Coyle couldn’t name—something sinful, electric, and entirely too real. His lips were still parted, waiting, trembling, as the priest loomed over him, a shadow of authority cloaked in God’s garb.

“Strip,” Father Easterman commanded, his voice low and edged with a calm that sent shivers racing down Coyle’s spine. The word wasn’t a request; it was an order, firm and unyielding, like the man himself.

Coyle’s hands shook as he fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, his mind a haze of panic and arousal. He could barely think straight, but his body moved on its own, obeying without question. The fabric slipped from his shoulders, pooling around his arms before he dropped it to the floor. His belt buckle clinked softly as he unbuckled it, the sound deafening in the small space.

Father Easterman watched him with an intensity that burned, his black eyes drinking in every inch of exposed skin. “Kneel,” he said, his tone softer now but no less commanding.

Coyle’s knees hit the floor with a dull thud, the cool wood biting into his skin. He stared up at the priest, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his heart pounding so hard he thought it might burst. Father Easterman stepped closer, the hem of his clerical dress brushing against Coyle’s bare thighs. The proximity was overwhelming, the scent of incense and something earthy clinging to the man like a second skin.

“Your thoughts are filthy, aren’t they?” Father Easterman murmured, tilting Coyle’s chin up with two fingers. No lies. That was what those dark eyes seemed to say.

Coyle swallowed hard, his throat dry. “Yes, Father.”

The corner of the priest’s mouth twitched, a ghost of a smile that melted away almost instantly. “And yet you came here. To me. Seeking absolution.” He leaned down, his face inches from Coyle’s, his breath warm against his lips. “Do you think you deserve it?”

Coyle hesitated, his mind spinning. Did he? Could he even want forgiveness when all he could think about was how Father Easterman’s hands would feel on him, inside him, claiming him for something far darker than salvation?

“I—” His voice cracked, and he licked his lips, desperate for some semblance of composure. “I don’t know.”

Father Easterman hummed, a low, approving sound that made heat flare in Coyle’s stomach. “Let me guide you, then,” he said, his fingers trailing down Coyle’s jaw to his throat, where they rested lightly, not quite pressing, but the threat was there. A warning.

Coyle nodded, his body trembling under the priest’s touch. He was powerless to resist, not that he wanted to. Every nerve in his body was alight, humming with anticipation.

Father Easterman’s hand moved to his chest, fingers curling around the cross draped around his neck. He lifted it slowly, the cross slipping free to dangle from his fingers, gleaming like a weapon.

“Open your mouth,” he commanded, his voice smooth and steady, as though this act were the most natural thing in the world.

Coyle obeyed immediately, his lips parting. The tip of the cross brushed against his tongue, cold and bitter, sending a jolt through him. Father Easterman guided the cold metal further in, until it pressed against the back of his throat, making him gag slightly. Tears sprung to his eyes, but he didn’t pull away.

“Good boy,” the priest murmured, his tone rich with approval, his thumb stroking Coyle’s cheek. “You take it so well.”

The praise went straight to Coyle’s core, igniting a fire that threatened to consume him. He closed his eyes, focusing on the weight of the cross in his mouth, the way the priest’s fingers forced his jaw wider, stretched his lips. It was humiliating, yet the intensity of it sparked deep, unshakable thrill.

Slowly, Father Easterman withdrew the cross, a glimmering thread of saliva clinging to it before he wiped it clean on the edge of his garment. His expression was unreadable as he took a step back.

“Touch yourself,” Father Easterman ordered, his gaze piercing. “Show me how much you want this.”

Coyle hesitated for only a moment before his hand moved to his cock, already hard and aching. He wrapped his fingers around himself, his touch tentative at first, but the priest’s sharp inhale spurred him on. He stroked himself slowly, his hips canting upward into his palm, while the priest watched with rapt attention.

“Faster,” the priest urged, his voice rough now, betraying the carefully constructed facade of control.

Coyle obeyed, his breaths coming in short, uneven gasps as pleasure coiled tight in his stomach. His other hand braced against the floor, his nails digging into the wood as he worked himself faster, harder.

Father Easterman knelt in front of him, cupping Coyle’s face in one hand. “Look at me,” he demanded.

Coyle’s eyes snapped open, meeting the priest’s gaze. Those dark eyes were full of hunger now, raw and unrelenting.

“You belong to me,” Father Easterman whispered, his voice dripping with possessive certainty. “From this moment on, every sin, every thought, every part of you is mine.”

Coyle moaned, his strokes faltering as the words sank in, wrapping around him like chains. He didn’t care if it was wrong, if it was blasphemous. All he cared about was the man in front of him, commanding him, claiming him.

The priest’s hand moved to the back of his neck, gripping him firmly. “Cum for me, Leland,”

It was all Coyle needed. His orgasm ripped through him, sudden and intense, his body convulsing as he spilled over his hand and onto the floor. His head swam, his vision blurring as he struggled to catch his breath.

Father Easterman watched him with a satisfied gleam in his eyes, but his expression quickly shifted back to that calm, controlled mask. He stood, smoothing the wrinkles from his outfit and fastening the buttons with practiced ease.

“We’re not done,” He reached down, grabbing Coyle by the arm and hauling him to his feet. “Turn around and brace yourself against the wall.”

Coyle stumbled, his legs still weak, but he did as he was told. The wood was cool against his palms as he leaned forward, his heart pounding wildly in his chest.

Father Easterman stepped close behind him, one hand resting on his hip while the other traced the curve of his spine. “This will hurt,” he warned, his voice steady. “But pain brings clarity, doesn’t it?”

He didn’t have time to respond before he felt the priest’s fingers press against him, slick with spit he hadn’t noticed being prepared.

“Relax,” Father Easterman murmured, his breath hot against Coyle’s neck.

He tried to obey, but his body tensed instinctively as the priest pushed a finger inside him, the stretch foreign and uncomfortable.

“Shh,” the priest soothed, his other hand moving to Coyle’s shoulder, holding him steady. “You can take it.”

The words were reassuring, but Coyle couldn’t help the whimper that escaped his lips as another finger joined the first, scissoring him open.

Father Easterman leaned in closer, murmuring into his ear. “Tell me, do you still want absolution after this?”

Coyle groans longingly as Father Easterman withdrew his fingers, leaving him empty and exposed. The cold air of the confessional brushed against his sensitive skin, sending a shiver down his spine. He could hear the faint rustle of fabric behind him—the priest adjusting, preparing—but he didn’t dare turn around. His hands trembled where they gripped the edge of the wooden bench, knuckles white with tension.

The priest stepped closer, his cassock brushing against Coyle’s bare thighs. Coyle’s mouth went dry as Father Easterman reached for him, his long fingers tracing the curve of his jaw before sliding down to grip his throat.

“You don’t deserve this,” the priest murmured, his thumb pressing lightly against the pulse point in Coyle’s neck. “But I’ll give it to you anyway.”

Before Coyle could respond, Father Easterman pressed his chest against the unforgiving wood of the confessional wall. The roughness of the surface bit into his skin, grounding him even as his mind spiraled. He heard the sound of a zipper, then the rustle of fabric. His heart pounded so loudly he was certain the entire church could hear it.

The priest’s body pressed flush against his back, hot and solid, and Coyle let out a shaky breath as he felt the tip of the man’s cock nudging between his thighs.

“Relax,” Father Easterman ordered, his voice calm and soothing. One hand splayed across Coyle’s lower back, holding him steady, while the other guided himself to the twitching opening.

Coyle squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself. The first press was slow, deliberate, and he hissed through clenched teeth as the priest pushed inside. The stretch burned, but there was pleasure threaded through the pain, a forbidden sweetness that made his head swim. He couldn’t help the way his body instinctively tried to pull away, but the priest held him firmly in place.

“Stay still,” the priest growled. “You wanted this. You asked for this. Now take it.”

Coyle whimpered, his fingers scrabbling against the wall as the priest began to move. Each thrust was measured, controlled, driving deeper with a precision that left the other man gasping. The priest’s hips snapped forward, forcing Coyle to arch into the wall, his body bending to accommodate the rhythm. The sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the small space.

It wasn’t just the physical sensation that overwhelmed him—it was the knowledge of where they were, what they were doing. This holy place, once a sanctuary, had become something else entirely. A den of sin. A corruption of faith. And yet, Coyle couldn’t bring himself to care. His thoughts were consumed by the man behind him, by the way Father Easterman filled him completely, claiming him in a way that felt almost sacred.

The priest’s hand moved from his back to grasp his hip, nails digging into flesh hard enough to leave marks. Coyle cried out, the pain sharp and delicious, and Father Easterman chuckled.

“Do you feel it?” he whispered. “Do you understand now? This isn’t about absolution. This is about submission.”

Coyle nodded frantically, unable to form words. His body was alive with sensation, every nerve alight as Father Easterman drove into him with increasing intensity. The pace became erratic, less calculated, and Coyle realized with a jolt that the priest was losing control. That steadfast composure was cracking, breaking apart beneath the weight of their shared desire.

“F-father—” he stammered, the honorific slipping out unbidden.

Father Easterman’s response was a growl, deep and guttural, as he leaned over Coyle’s back, his chest pressing against the other man’s shoulders. His movements grew harder, faster, each thrust punctuated by a grunt of effort. Coyle’s knees threatened to buckle, but the priest held him upright, one arm wrapped tightly around his waist.

“Say my name,” Father Easterman demanded, his voice rough with need.

Coyle hesitated, his mind foggy with pleasure. “H-Hendrick-“ he finally gasped, the name foreign on his tongue. It felt wrong, blasphemous, to address the priest so familiarly at this moment. But the way Father Easterman groaned in response sent a thrill through him.

“Again,” the priest urged, his thrusts becoming almost punishing.

“Hendrick! F-Fffuck!!” Coyle cried out, louder than he meant to. The walls of the confessional seemed to close in around them, amplifying every sound. He could feel the heat building low in his stomach, coiling tighter with each movement. His own cock strained against his abdomen, neglected but throbbing with want.

Father Easterman’s hand slid around to grip him, cold fingers wrapping around his aching hardness. The touch was electric, overwhelming, and Coyle let out a strangled moan, his hips jerking forward instinctively.

“Not yet,” the priest warned, tightening his hold. “You don’t get to cum until I allow it.”

Coyle whined, desperate and pleading, but Father Easterman only laughed—a low, wicked sound that sent shivers down his spine. The priest’s thrusts slowed, drawing out the sensation until Coyle thought he might go mad. Every inch of him was on fire, every nerve screaming for release, but his body wouldn’t disobey.

Father Easterman’s breathing grew ragged, his movements losing their rhythm as he chased his own pleasure. Coyle could feel the moment he teetered on the edge, the way his body stiffened and his grip tightened almost painfully. With a final, forceful thrust, the priest came undone, burying himself deep as he spilled inside. Coyle wasn’t far behind him, panting the wall of the confessional with his spend.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The only sound was their labored breathing, harsh and uneven in the confined space. Then Father Easterman pulled out slowly, and Coyle sagged against the wall, trembling and overstimulated.

The priest straightened, his hands smoothing over Coyle’s back in a gesture that felt almost tender. His lips brushed against the shell of Coyle’s ear as he whispered, “You did well.”

Coyle turned his head, catching a glimpse of priest’s face. The mask of piety was gone, replaced by something darker, hungrier. It sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through him, despite his exhaustion.

Father Easterman stepped back, redressing with practiced ease, while Coyle remained where he was, too weak to move. When the priest finally spoke again, his voice was calm, almost detached.

“I’ll see you next Sunday~”

[celestialmantdonna]

Groot and Drax exchanged glances as Reks and the other guard started speaking. Drax, always humble, mistakenly assumed that Arvin was an admirer of his who wanted to say hello. Groot, on the other hand, initially thought he had gotten in trouble for chasing the lizards.

The more the two men spoke, though, the more questions the two Guardians had. Looking at each other, Drax and Groot shrugged simultaneously, neither of them knowing what Reks and Arvin were talking about. Apparently, the Guardians had uncovered a plot against the King and Prince of Dalmasca.

"We have?" Drax asked with both hands resting on his belt. But when he saw the look Groot gave him, he stood taller. "Yes, we have indeed."

"Why is everyone trying to kill everyone today?" Groot asked, though only Drax would understand him. He stood on Reks' shoulder carefully. "I don't get it... Why?!"

"Exactly!" Drax said with vehemence. "Why would anyone want to kill the Prince? He is beautiful!"

"Maybe someone's jealous of the way he looks and they think he has to die," Groot suggested innocently. It seemed like a perfectly logical explanation in his young mind, but saying it aloud made it appear all the more real, and he gasped audibly. "Oh no! What are we gonna do?"

"We do not know if that is certain," Drax replied. After a brief pause, he added, "But it seems plausible."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

Mantis smiled at the maid when she complimented her, before gesturing for Elin to follow her.

"Thank you! Elin... That's a pretty name! Come sit, please." She ushered the young woman to the sofa; it would help in case Elin needed to lay down due to the delicate nature of the topic at hand.

"Elin, as you can probably tell... I am not a human, or... hume, as you say. I possess certain... abilities," she began. "There is a reason why I wanted to speak to you privately. I am an empath. I am able to read others, and I can feel sources of energy. Life. Like the life sir Azelas attempted to take from me. So in return, I made him tell us his... um, tell us his secrets."

Mantis held out a hand so Elin could take it if she needed. "If there is anything I can help you with..."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

Gamora stood still and showed a blank expression as Raminas spoke with his son, though she nodded politely and offered a small smile when Caelen thanked her and said he would assist the Guardians as they needed.

"Just remember to get us the blade for my teammate and that will be enough repayment. It will make her smile." Her tone was a little more engaging and friendly this time, betraying the smallest hint of playfulness.

Moments later, Gamora was a bit surprised when Munoh reappeared, but it gladdened her to know that they brought word from Nabradia.

Apparently, Prince Rasler and Princes Eswynn would arrive sooner than intended; a formal dinner would take place. And Caelen wanted to... invite the Guardians? Gamora's eyes widened slightly, glancing and Munoh when they agreed with their chosen mortal.

"I will find my fellow teammates and tell them we have been invited. Thank you." She offered a polite nod. "Rest assured, we will not mention the invasion. I will inform my comrades of this as well."

With that, Gamora spun and left the throne room.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

Rocket and Quill were leaving the Benatar when they spotted Gamora from afar. Quill called her name, waving his arm with a big grin on his face.

"Gamora! Here!"

The woman saw them and approached the two Guardians. Her arms crossed over her chest.

"Any luck with the ship?"

"It's gonna take me a while to fix it, that much I can tell ya," Rocket replied. "Until then, I made somethin' to... uh... y'know, help improve Mantis' abilities."

"How?" Gamora asked.

"Uh, I dunno, remember that one time when she put a livin' planet to sleep? 'Cause you saw it, I saw it, we all saw it. The girl doesn't know how powerful she is, but I do. She's said before that she can't dull her powers. That means they can only grow. This will simply... dial 'em up to eleven. She'll be able to fuck shit up."

"I see." Gamora nodded and straightened. "I thought you said you didn't care about us."

"You know me, I love a little mayhem and she's got the power. There's a lotta potential for chaos there."

"In any case..." Gamora smirked and shook her head. "We have been invited to have dinner with the royal family tonight, as well as the Prince and Princess of Nabradia."

"Huh?" Rocket narrowed his eyes.

"It's a celebration," Gamora clarified.

"A celebration," Rocket repeated numbly. And then he broke into a fit of laughter.

"What are we celebrating?" Quill asked.

"The wedding. Princess Ashelia is going to marry Prince Rasler. And I... I suspect it's an arrangement," Gamora said, remembering how anxious Ashelia seemed when she told Gamora and Mantis about the event.

"And why the fuck should we give a shit 'bout the wedding?" Rocket barked.

"Yeah, I don't get it either. Why would the King invite us?"

"The King didn't invite us. Caelen did," Gamora clarified.

"Ah, of course." Rocket rolled his eyes. "Of course Prince Charming's gonna take us under his wing, Mantis was able to get along with his invisible friend after all. Wonderful."

"Dude..." The Star-Lord's voice was a whisper. "Dinner means there will be food..."

The two stared at each other for a moment as Gamora's hands moved to rest on her hips.

"Okay, fine, we're goin', whatever," Rocket said.

"We must not mention the invasion in front of the Prince and Princess of Nabradia," Gamora explained. "King Raminas believes Prince Rasler might want to go defend his home which is... understandable. For his safety, we should refrain from bringing that up."

Another Time, Another Place (A Hollow Universe In Space) || closed with tarnishedxknight

@tarnishedxknight continued from here

The Guardians stood there, letting Captain Basch formally introduce them to King Raminas. They all then bowed respectfully except for Rocket, who only did so because Gamora pushed his head down. They trusted Basch for the most part, as he assured them no one would hurt them after telling them to leave their weapons at the ship. Quill and Gamora were the first ones to leave theirs; Drax didn't want to leave his knives, but did so after Mantis looked at him, while Rocket pulled a comical amount of retractable weapons from his pockets.

As they followed Basch, Mantis had stayed behind for a moment to approach Vossler. She felt much better after Munoh sent her some calm energy, and she smirked at the man. Suddenly, her hand was on his cheek, her antennae aglow. "Whenever you open your mouth to say something unkind, you will wail like a baby. Honestly, it might be more coherent than anything else you have said," she whispered. She patted his cheek twice as if to seal her whimsical behest, and hurried to follow the Guardians as Basch guided them through the palace of Rabanastre.

Quill straightened and cleared his throat to speak to the King. Mantis took his hand; Quill was a little confused, but he allowed it since he knew she wasn't feeling great.

"Your Majesty," he said, once again lowering his voice in an attempt to mirror Basch's formal tone and presence, hoping it would make the King like him more. "We come in peace. We thank you for your time, and we apologize for occupying one of your docks. I think I have–" He stopped talking rather suddenly, and swallowed. "Uh... I think... I have..."

What was happening was that Mantis was frantically reading his thoughts as he spoke, using her powers to interrupt him because he was going to say he had the perfect stuff to make up for it, wanting to show the King some Terran music with the Zune. While Terran music was excellent, Mantis knew not everyone would like it, nor find it an acceptable form of apology.

"I have no excuse," Quill said instead. "And I have to... shut up... now."

[delicatebluebirdruins]

i really love the ending

there is Jill and Carlos (though we don't get to appreciate it as much) bathed in golden light

the mushroom cloud (I am curious as to how many times mushroom clouds get used to signify explosions just across the board... i vaguely recall it being used in the croods where they made popcorn by accident)

Jill having a monlogue/ thinking to herself and wanting to bring Umbrella down

honestly the direct aftermath of this is them tending to each others wounds, change of clothes, food and as much sleep as they can get before the world comes knocking again. Also a lot of talking because i need Jill talking about the spencer mansion (and she fucking tells them that the zombies aren't dead)

from how well Carlos and Jill work together in this I can imagine them both catching up with Chris and they have a mission together something happens to Carlos (between OG Nemesis and whatever is the next thing we see Jill in there is a fairly large amount of time from what I remember)

[royalarchivist]

Jaiden: Cucurucho, you have a lot of power, right?

Cucurucho: ...I don't know. Maybe.

Roier: Ah... Yes, you know, don't act like a dumbass, you have it. You have it, man. Eh?

Jaiden: Is there a way for us to protect all the Eggs? Do you know? I don't want anything to happen to the Eggs that happened to Bobby.

Cucurucho: Ha ha ha

Roier: WHAT? [Smacks Cucurucho]

Jaiden: [Bops him] Headpats.

Cucurucho: Maybe.

Jaiden: [Continues to bop him] Headpats. C'mon, I can get it out of you! Headpats! Chin scratches! Belly rubs!

Roier: [Joins Jaiden in bopping Cucurucho, chuckling and laughs]

Jaiden: Yeah? He's comin' around!

[Jaiden and Roier both laugh]

[moonstandardtime]

i want to put link in isat. im sure hed do fine. the heros spirit endures

[bmpmp3]

dysgraphic artiƨts risɘ UP!!!!!

[lovinglin]

My best bet in lore posting is if I just don't think abt it too much

[gachaparadise]

ahhh the Penacony leaks are really coming in now.

*chuckles* I'm in danger.

[lemon-3ds]

Ladies and gentlegamers welcome to another episode of "Is this a normal kin thing or am I a system?"!

[gojoest]

curiosity — gojo satoru

MDNI, f! reader, childhood friends to lovers, satoru is painfully aware of his own feelings while reader is not, mention of past girlfriends (and how they all looked like you), handjob (m! receiving), cumming in pants (and in your hand), not proofread, wc: 2k, dividers by @/cafekitsune

synopsis: gojo satoru is your childhood best friend. you’ve been inseparable ever since you were little. spending day and night together, you’d often have sleepovers together — a tradition you both carried on throughout your college years. at least once a week you’d drop by his dorm room and stay the night, or vice versa. but compared to your childhood days, you no longer share one bed. that is, until . . .

part 2

a/n: this is a further (and very lousy) elaboration on this post of mine but hey, HAPPY BDAY TO MY ONE AND ONLY

“i think we should try sleeping together”, you suggest one night.

“wah—“, satoru gasps, a teasing glint in his eyes. “didn’t know you felt that way about me”, he smirks.

“just sleeping”, you quickly clarify. “whatever obscene thing you just thought of — it’s not that”, you add, giving him a roll of your eyes.

“you should pick your words more wisely”, he scoffs. “if you go around telling people you want to sleep with them, they will misunderstand”

“ugh”, you huff, “i obviously didn’t mean it like that, and you know it”

“yeah, i do”, he lets out a soft chuckle. he knew exactly what you meant, but still he disguised his wishful thinking behind a teasing remark. “why though? all of a sudden?”

“dunno”, you shrug. “just feeling bad that you always take the floor”

“if that’s the case we can just swap”

“no — i cherish my comfort. come on, we used to do this all the time”, you pout.

indeed you did. but you were kids back then, things were different.

his heartbeat would race and his face would get all hot and red, the heat would fester through his entire body. but when the lights were off it was easy to hide it, the signs that he liked you. after making sure you were fast asleep, he would hold your hand and childishly smile to himself, he would peck it softly, secretly. one time you woke up in the middle of the night and almost caught him but he, startled, kicked you off the bed. yelling at you, lying, how you pushed your finger in his nostril in your sleep… he was so embarrassed, but also relieved you believed what he said was true. his secret was safe.

but now?

when you stand too close to him his body starts acting up in more mature ways. while he is better at controlling his facial expressions now and hiding his nervous heartbeat behind a nonchalant attitude, he struggles with keeping his urges at bay. he’s no longer the boy that blushes while secretly holding your hand; he is a man who craves you.

even when he’s laid on the futon beside the bed you occupy, the sound of your breathing alone gets him hard. you lie there, sleeping innocently, unaware of how much of a pain in the crotch you are being to him. when you leave in the mornings, he climbs onto the bed that is soaked with your scent and shamelessly jerks off. he stands on his knees and sprays his load on the bedsheets. eyes shut close, he pictures you beneath him.

he sighs in defeat. “fine”

“the right side is mine — it’s only natural, because i am always right”, you snicker and quickly pad over to the bed, plopping your body down on the mattress. “sure”, he chuckles and follows after you, sinking himself right next to you.

it is a bit awkward, you must admit. you are laid on your sides facing each other, in silence.

it’s cramped indeed, your knees are brushing against his and the space in the middle separating your bodies from one another is very scarce. but that was to be expected, the beds in the dorm rooms were designed for one person after all.

“so”, you break the silence. “how’s your girlfriend doing?”

“she’s not my girlfriend, anymore”, he states dryly.

“but it’s been barely two weeks since you started dating”

“well, things didn’t work out i guess”

the girls he dated, all of them looked a bit like you. same height, same hair color and length. similar facial features… he never lasted long with any of them though. all of them, visibly bothered by your presence in his life, would too soon ask him to make a choice — either them or you. neither of them aware that he chose to be with them in the first place only because they reminded him of you, and that it was never the question itself that drove him away from them. it was bound to happen, sooner or later. they could never be you.

you hum. “i see”

as you shift to make yourself more comfortable, you feel the shirt he gave you to wear to bed roll up ever so slightly, revealing the bare of your belly. a bit self-conscious now that he’s next to you, you are immediately urged to cover yourself. you slide a hand under the blanket, rummaging around to get a hold of the hem, but oh...

…the back of your hand brushes against something stiff. the friction incurring a low pant from the man, your best friend, next to you.

“fuck”, satoru hisses. his hand clasps around your wrist, pushing it away, but along with the movement his knuckles graze the flesh of your stomach. “fuck”, he curses again.

“satoru”, you say his name, voice hushed and timid but there is a note of underlying curiosity he is way too familiar with.

this is exactly why he was avoiding the one bed scenario — his boners were too hard to hide at this age and this size of him.

“satoru”, you repeat. “are you hard?”

“i wish you didn’t ask the obvious”, he mumbles, embarrassed. warmth washing over his face uncontrollably, just like in the past. but there was a bigger problem now — down in his pants, and the fact he got caught.

“is it because of me?”

“no”, he clicks his tongue, his grip still tight around your wrist, keeping your hand at bay. “it’s because i didn’t jerk off tonight, you know — it’s a natural thing for us men to randomly pop a boner throughout the day”

…which was true. but it was not the case right now.

“can i play with it a little?”, you ask, sneakily twisting your wrist in an attempt to free your hand.

“oi!”, he yelps. “did you hit you head or what?”

“i am curious”, you blurt out. “just a little?”

“stop”, he warns. “it’s weird”

his resolve is hanging by a thread right now, you’re too cunning to tempt him like this. he knows things will get awfully messy between you if he lets you cross this line. but still, he can’t flat out deny you. deep down he wants you to persist, a little bit more… if you ask him one more time, maybe he’ll crumble. surely, he will.

“it’s not”, you reassure. “i won’t jerk you off, i’ll just touch it”, you explain. “please? just a little?”

well. fuck it.

“this is a bad idea”, he says, but loosens his grip around your wrist. “fine”, he mumbles. “but just a little”

you nod, pulling your hand away only to slide it down his body.

you’re not really sure why you were so happy to hear the news about his break-up, but you always felt more at ease when he belonged just to you. your best friend, and not someone else’s boyfriend. you don’t know why you were doing this right now, or why your heart was racing. maybe because it really was weird? or maybe you were just horny?

finding his cock wasn’t difficult, it sure stood out from the rest of his body.

“you really are hard”, you gasp, running your fingers across the bulge in his shorts, dragging out a throaty groan out of him.

“yeah”, he mumbles. “like i said, stop stating the obvious”

“it’s a bit wet here”, ignoring his words, you thumb the spot where his tip is, making him squirm. his body slightly jerks as you press your palm against it. cupping it inside your hand you squeezing it gently. “it’s warm too”, you keep exploring further. “it has a pulse”

satoru lets out a helpless whine. “you sound so dirty right now, it’s weird”

he’s longed for this type of intimacy with you for years. but in his head, he pictured it differently. it was him who was supposed to do things to you, not the other way around. he was supposed to be the confident one, delving into your layers, making you squirm and fall apart under his touch. not the other way around… but this was good too. too good for him to oppose it. you were his weakness, after all. you always have been. no matter how much he teased and picked on you, in the end he always let you do as you pleased. this was not an exception.

you giggle to yourself. “yeah? you like that new side of me, don’t you?”

“…maybe”

sneaking your hand through the front of his shorts and boxers, you feel the flesh of his cock directly. it was twitching, his tip slick with precum. you put the tip of your index finger on his slit and rub circles around it to smear the pre oozing out of it, getting another soft whimper out of him. the head of his cock all slippery now, urging you to rub it all over the rest of his length.

your fingers wrap around his cock as you start to move your hand up and down, slowly, smearing his own slick onto his own flesh.

he tries to swallow the moan stuck in his throat. “you said you were not going to jerk me off, but what now? you’re playing a bit too much, don’t you think?”

satoru can last long. under normal circumstances, that is. but having you — not just his hand, but you, his first ever love, his only love — touch him like that, he could barely hold back. the urge to bust has been there since the moment you put your hand on his cock.

“why? you gonna cum?”, you slip your hand lower, down to the base of his shaft — where his balls are. you caress them tenderly, incurring yet another soft groan from him, before you go back to stroking him again. with each drag you pick up the pace. the room is filled with the squelching sounds caused by your hand, at this point, confidently fisting his slick covered cock, and his heavy breathing. 

“hey”, he puts his hand on your cheek, softly pinching on it with his fingertips. an attempt to make you snap out of it, but alas — you don’t back away. “don’t regret this”, he whispers, almost beggingly. but his voice comes out too shallow for your ears to pick up on.

“are you close?”, you peek at him, watching his face with rapt fascination, grateful that you left the night lamp on.

never have you ever seen him like this. his cheeks so hot and flushed that his pale skin was lit completely red, up to his ears and his neck. beads of sweat across his forehead with strands of his hair stuck on it. mouth agape — huffing and puffing. his brows knitted, desperately. pleadingly. his mouth telling you to stop, yet his face told a different story. so did the part of him inside your palm. it made you throb, down there, and squeeze your thighs together. your own wetness spurting out from your slit, drenching the inside of your underwear”

“fuck—", he growls. “i am— c-close”, he stutters, struggling to control his breathing and the moans that roll out of his mouth.

you feel his cock twitch in your hand, differently. the pulse on it beating faster and more brashly, like it almost made his skin stretch and push against the flesh of your palm. and then, there was a delay. a few, very short seconds in which his cock stood still before violently exploding, pumping out a thick shot of cum. then some more, and more, and more — until the pouring turned into a light dribble toward the end.

“ugh”, he throatily groans, his body relaxing after oozing all the tension out. although slower now, you keep stroking him, running your fingers across his softening cock.

“oh wow”, you gasp, his cum sticky on your skin, drenching the space between your fingers. “what a mess”, you giggle.

“you’re trouble”, he sighs. “is your curiosity satisfied now?”

you nod.

“if you get curious about other things”, he pauses, scratching the back of his head, “come to me. don’t go to other men”

“i’ll think about it”, you smirk.

after that night, you stayed over for an entire week.

this little play time turned into routine, and you were no longer the only one playing.

[simpjaes]

CUNNILINGUIST ― s.jy (ft. p.sh)

Unfortunately for you, no man has ever given you some good head. Fortunately for you, your best friend is more annoyed by it than you are. It’s just a favor, right? or the one where your best friend jake eats you out as a way to admit his own feelings for you, also, apparently sunghoon existing is an issue.

minors dni! | kindly leave feedback and reblog to give bestie jake conflicting feelings

WORDCOUNT― 16.1 k

PAIRING― jake x afab reader (ft. sunghoon)

CONTENT― a lot of waiting, like to the point it even annoyed me, very fluffy stuff , typical best friends to fuck buddies to “actually, I had feelings this whole time”, jealousy, jake is whiny and needy when he’s horny, reader thinks it’s cute. angst if you’re a baby about it

OTHER CHARACTERS― sunghoon as the mutual friend who bangs reader

NOTE― this was originally written by me on my other blog [@/ncteez], if you’ve read it before, that’s why!

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― BIG DICKED BESTIE, pussy eating (he gets IN THERE), masturbation in the form of dry humping a mattress and then into his hand, finger fucking, cum eating, sunghoon hook up, morning sex, lazy fingering, lazy fuck, dirty talk , unprotected sex, awkward build up,raw grinding, no blowjob in sight sorry lmao, deep penetration, cream pie, kind of cum stuffing but like not entirely intentional, cheesy love stuff 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“What? Again?” Jake says, leaning back against the couch with a groan and a smack to his own forehead.

“Yeah, so basically he went down on me for less than a minute but expected me to, like, go long enough to ‘swallow’ or whatever.” You continue the story in a frustrated huff, shaking your head in self-pity.

Jake groans louder, leaning himself forward again and swiping his drink from your coffee table to take a long and thoughtful sip. 

“How many times is that, then?” He says between sips, glancing around the room as if he’s in deep thought. “I can’t help but think you pick these kinds of guys on purpose at this point.”

You look at him in mock pain, grabbing his drink and taking your own thoughtful sip of it.

“I dunno, they always talk big game during phone sex and stuff. I figure eventually one of them will live up to it.” You drone on, internally marking your recent date’s name off of your call-back list. 

“Be honest with me, have you ever actually gotten good head? Like how would you know if they’re bad if you have nothing good to compare them to?” Jake asks, letting you mindlessly drink his beverage.

It’s not weird to be having these types of conversations with him, if at all, something would seem off if you didn’t. He’s the only person in your life that you’ve ever felt this close to. At this point, you think he’d have to chase you down with a bloody hatchet for things to be awkward. Which is…kind of interesting, you guess.

“Well, I mean,” You think for a moment too long for his liking, but he gives you the space to finish your answer. “It feels good and all but it’s not like I’ve ever gotten off by it.”

“Correction –” Jake starts, blinking right at you. “You’ve never been given the chance to get off on it.” His bright  smile shows through his words, and you’re sure he’s mocking you at this point.

“Yeah, yeah. Yada, yada. I have terrible taste in sexual partners but to be fair, it’s not like the pool is that big to choose from.”

He nods in agreement, humming as if to end the conversation and still watching you sip at his drink.

“Would you be opposed to–” He pauses, making eye contact with you. “Y’know, I could do it for you.”

You pause, nearly dropping his drink out of your hand but thankfully your grip actually tightens on it instead. You swallow as you look at him, searching his face to see if this is some kind of joke.

“Jae-fucking-yun,” You deadpan, sitting his cup back down on your coffee table and leaning toward him, staring him down. “You’d really do that, for me?”

You bat your eyelashes at him, mostly playing it off as a half-joke just to see if he’s fucking with you or not. 

“How else are you gonna experience it?” 

You stare him down harder.

“You say that like you’re some sort of pussy-eating-god,” You narrow your eyes. “Are you?”

He shrugs casually with his little smile, leaning back on your couch and stretching his arms out. One of his hands lands behind your shoulder and you lean into it. 

“I’d let you be the judge of that if you’re up for it.”

Finally, you decide that he’s definitely not joking and you’re definitely gonna do it because like, that’s your best friend. Experiencing your firsts with him comes almost as naturally as walking. You had your first kiss with him, albeit it was a dare. You experienced your first concert with him, your first break up, your first failed exam, and even your first legal drink in a club. What’s so bad about letting him eat you out?

“Right now?” You ask, quirking your brow and tilting your head.

“Now, tomorrow, next week. Whenever.” He runs his hands through his hair as he says it and only now are you starting to really tune into his features that you’ve already found handsome.

Day after day you’ve seen him on this couch and in other states of dress without really thinking twice about how his lips would feel on you (despite that short first kiss). You’ve seen him kissing all up on other people, you’ve seen him in the club with wet lips from alcohol, you’ve seen him all messy and eating spaghetti at his parent’s house– but for some reason, his lips seem different now. His sleepy eyes seem different, his messy hair seems like something that should be tugged on, his fucking jawline– 

“Why’re you staring at me like that?” He looks at you up and down as if he’s judging. “You wanna go right now?”

You nod slowly, letting the traces of any lusty thoughts you’ve had about him in your life come to the front in waves. Then you quickly shake your head.

“Wait, no,” You roll your eyes more at yourself than him. “I haven’t showered since my date, maybe I should, uh…”

“Uh – yeah. Please do.” He grimaces, that same dopey smile coming back after a moment. 

“Fair.” You roll your eyes. “Gonna go shower then.” 

Part of you wonders if like, he’s being totally legit. For all you know, you’ll get out of the shower and he’ll be too busy doing something else, or like, he’ll go home or something. No hurt in seeing though.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

In the bathroom, you can’t help the feeling in your chest at even the thought that this may be about to happen.

Excitement. That’s what you feel. Not because it’s Jake. Well, maybe a little bit because you wanna see what his tongue is all about but more so because you’re about to get some presumably good head.

You shower thoughtfully, cleaning every part of your body and feeling little goosebumps rise and fall with each sensation of your air conditioning snaking its way past your shower doors. When you get out, you lotion your body so you’re all nice and soft and brush your teeth just in case things go a little further. You’re not expecting it to, but y’know, nothing wrong with having fun if it comes to it. 

After all, he’s doing you a favor by going down on you, the least you can do is smell good, be soft, and totally prepared for if he were to suggest more, right? Right. Anyway, you’re all showered up and opt to just let your hair do its own thing as you throw on your shirt and shorts. You ignore the panties at this point, because why not?

When you get back to the living room, Jake isn’t there. Naturally, you check your bedroom and there he is, still his normal self and lounging against your headboard while flipping through videos on his phone. 

“And she’s back,” he comments, reaching a hand out as if to invite you to your own bed. “Change your mind yet?”

“Not even for a second,” you smile as you take a spot in front of him, your entire body facing him as you pull your knees up and lay your chin against your arms. “Have you?”

He seems to fall into a more serious tone now, locking his phone before tossing it to the side and flicking his eyes up to look at you, scanning your legs in the shorts. 

“No,” he chokes back, shocked to see straight between the gap of your shorts and actually lay eyes on the point of this whole situation for the first time. “And you’re not wearing anything under those shorts.”

You watch his face and the way it turns from your best friend into something you’ve seen time and time again from men you’ve gone home with. It’s sexy on him though, for some reason.

“Figured I’d save you the trouble?”

He smiles, now moving himself toward you and reaching a hand behind to cradle your head. 

“Lay back,” he says softly, in a voice you’ve only heard a few times from him, “you could have left the shorts off too though.” He adds with an even softer laugh.

For some reason, it makes you feel shy. His hand guiding you to lay back all while grabbing the pillow from behind him and placing it under your head so that you’re nice and comfortable.  You watch him look at you and honestly, it’s in a way you can’t remember him ever looking at you before. If this is how he looks at other women, you may be a little jealous. 

It feels more intense right now than you thought it would.

“You’re being weird.” You say offhandedly, looking away from him and trying to keep the heat from flushing to your cheeks. 

“You’re letting me eat you out, how am I being weird?” He leans up from you, putting two hands on your knees but still waiting for your eyes to meet his again. “You want me to act like the other dudes? Dip my tongue in then wrap it up?”

You groan, rolling your eyes back to him and analyzing the way his big hands drape over your knees. 

“Okay, fair.” You admit defeat, feeling his warm palms move down the back of your thighs and to your ass. 

“Lift up,” He says, quickly pulling the shorts off of you when you do as he asks. 

“Oh–” He gasps quietly. “Damn.”

He stares directly between your legs, bracing his hands back at your knees and spreading your legs a bit. He angles his head in different ways to really look at you, seemingly enamored with your pussy as a whole. 

“Look who’s staring now.” You chuckle, instinctively hiding your face from him despite knowing he isn’t looking up at you.

“Yeah– I am,” he admits, now adjusting himself on the bed to lay down, his head easily slotting between your legs as he rests his chin on your lower belly and looks up at you. “You can pull my hair or do whatever, I’m just gonna…like, start I guess. Tell me if it’s something you don’t like.”

As normal as this isn’t, he’s speaking similar to how the two of you had taken on projects before. He typically takes the lead but offers you control more often than not. All you can do is nod at him, trying to comprehend that it’s your best friend’s head between your legs right now.

When he pulls his head back up with one last nod of confirmation, the first thing you feel is his fingers slipping up your folds, the other braced on your thigh and holding your legs open. You release a short sigh of relief at the feeling and he instantly smirks at it. 

“I haven’t even started yet,” He whispers, glancing up at you before fixing his eyes back on the expanse of your pussy. He uses his ring and pointer finger to spread your lips open, and the middle finger to rub against your hole only for a brief moment before he licks his lips and releases his own sigh of relief. “God, Sunghoon would be so jealous right now.”

You look down at him, wanting to ask him what the fuck he’s talking about and why he’d bring up Sunghoon right now, but you find yourself staring at him instead. Breath caught in your throat with the way his eyes meet yours before letting his tongue hang from his mouth as if presenting it to you in a cheeky way.

He’s so fast with it too, with the way he replaces his middle finger with his tensed tongue, forcing you to swallow your words and hold your breath even more. You can feel him lick and nibble against each of your lips before moving inward, flattening his tongue to lick one long, languid, and wet stripe up until meeting your clit. 

He wraps his lips around it, sucking once, hard, before releasing it and pulling back to look at you.

“This okay?”

Goddamn him for making you have to talk right now. You’re still trying to comprehend the fact that he said Sunghoon, fucking Sunghoon of all people would be jealous that he’s doing this right now. That’s definitely a question for later, because yeah, it’s fucking okay. 

More than okay. 

You nod to him, throwing your arm over your eyes and instinctively bucking your hips up towards his hovering mouth. 

“Oh, that was hot,” He groans out his compliment, watching the way you hide your face before he pulls his eyes back down and uses his fingers to spread your pussy open wider, enough to see your hole pulsate when he dips down to blow against it, “I can see how wet you’re getting, Is it because of me or is it just because someone is playing with your pussy?”

You half groan half moan at that, mostly because hearing these words from him is something that feels entirely too sexual. As if he hasn’t already tasted you, as if you’re not spread out by his fingers right now. You ignore his words, yet, your brain holds onto them with white knuckles and your hips buck toward him again.

“Not a talker, got it.” He notes, watching your hips chase his breath. 

He watches for much longer than you’d like for him to, and you’re about to lift up and accuse him of being just like the other guys but he shuts your thoughts off so fucking fast when you feel his lips on you again. 

His tongue explores every part of you, licking and sucking against areas you didn’t even know would feel good until his mouth lands against your clit again. This time, you can’t help it, you grind up and he hums at it as he braces your legs open just enough to skew his head and move his tongue back down. 

He’s slurping. Lost in the moment as he does it. Tasting you in full and getting a warm, pleasant feeling each time your legs try to close and your hips buck up for more. He…can’t believe this is finally happening. Fucking finally.

Unsure if you’d let him, he tries anyway. He stiffens his tongue, circling your hole before pressing just a bit, giving you just enough pressure that you feel frustrated. So frustrated that you’re the one who ends up finishing his attempt at something new. You reach down and lace your fingers in his hair, and let out a soft, needy little moan for him. 

That sound forces one from his chest too, he can’t help it, really. With the way you’re grabbing his hair and holding his head in place, pressing yourself against his mouth so much harder than before. Ah, he really, really loves doing this for you. 

To think any man would already be done? To think anyone could like, not wanna eat you out? Insanity. Stupid, stupid fucking men.

He can taste how wet you are now, truly taste it as he stretches your hole as much as he can with his tongue and another groan of his own. It’s probably embarrassing, truly, but he doesn’t care. 

Both of you are moaning at this point as you hold his head in place and grind your hips harder than you think you are. He loves it, you love it. So much that you really are barely comprehending that your best friend could do this the whole time?! And never told you until now?!

Jake is just as drunk on the moment as you are though. Totally lost in the scent and taste of you as he continues to lap away, constantly trying to prove that you can and will get off from his mouth alone. And honestly? It’s at the point that he figures he can use his fingers now too considering you let him spread you open with his tongue. What’s a little more gonna hurt, anyway?

The taste of you alone has him in heaven, cursing any man who didn’t take advantage of your pussy against their mouth. He can easily slip a finger into a hole this wet and needy, gasping in awe before glancing up at you. 

God, the way you immediately ride his finger, no huff or sound of irritation that he’s pulled his tongue back now. Your face. Fuck. 

He watches as you shamelessly chase the small amount of pleasure he can offer in terms of just head and fingering. He can imagine how hot you’d be without that shirt on, with your legs around his hips, with your mouth wrapped around him. You look blissed out, soaking his finger and keeping your hand in his hair, mindlessly grabbing and scratching at him. 

Making quick work, he goes back for your clit, circling his tongue around the bundle of nerves and noticing how you ride his finger harder. He can’t help but smirk against you when you do it either. 

The movement of your hips constantly humping against him is enough, and he can’t help but groan at the sound of your slick squelching out of you and warming his chin, he can’t fucking help but grind his own hips forward when you act like this. His cock is so painfully hard for you right now, at the taste of you, that all he can do is chase the mattress beneath him. Tensing his muscles and moaning against your clit shamelessly at the jolts of pleasure he gets from it. 

He slips another finger in with ease, feeling how much wetter you’ve gotten in the way the slide is filthy and audible. You groan out at that too, feeling his tongue flick relentlessly against your clit and only now moving your free hand from your face and trailing to your stomach. 

You can’t even talk, so you don’t. You lift your shirt up until you can at least rub against your nipples, just to heighten the pleasure your best friend is so graciously giving you.

His eyes roll back when you do that, only to fall back on you and get a frustrated grunt from him. He’s a bit annoyed that the shirt is still covering you despite your hand under it, fondling yourself. He’s thinking with his cock, so fucking aroused that he doesn’t think twice when he aggressively lifts your shirt up to your chin and watches the way your fingers poke and prod at yourself.

He inhales a sharp breath at the image, and his hips fuck harder against the mattress at that. His fingers speed up and now he’s focused. You feel him all over you from the waist down, his tongue flicking and lips sucking against your swollen clit, his fingers relentlessly fucking into you, your fingers heightening those sensations by playing with your own tits– then, oh, then you notice. 

Jake, you’re best fucking friend, is so goddamn horny that he’s dry humping against your bed and whining out moans against your clit. Probably to avoid asking for more, to avoid making you feel obligated to get him off too, to avoid anything you may not want or consent to. And that’s why he’s your best friend.

It doesn’t take long after that, your hips come to a stop as you watch him get himself off all while getting you off, and you find your orgasm bubbling up much faster than if you’d have imagined solely because of the image in front of you.

“Jake, you’re fucking whining.” You groan almost as needy as he does, rolling your hips up in a stutter. 

He was almost gonna stop, because yeah, he is whining. Gasping for air but only tasting you, only swallowing up the moans you give to him, only inhaling the dull scent of the fruity soap you used when you showered. But, you moan louder after you say that. You like it. You like seeing him act so desperate. So he continues, shamefully reaching one of his hands between himself and the bed and quickly shoving it down his pants, circling around his cock and continuing to fuck into it. 

If he thinks hard enough, you’re what he’s fucking right now, and technically, he is. With his fingers and mouth at least. When your hips stutter more, he fucks harder against his hand and holds his fingers inside of you as deep as he can get them. There, he sucks against your clit until you’re the one whining louder. 

You’re shocked at how quickly you’re getting off. Releasing a splash against him in a breathy, choked up sob. Nearly squeezing his head between your thighs to the point he almost misses the way you breathe out strings of praises toward him. But he hears them. 

He definitely heard you say that he looks sexy with your hand in his hair, and god, did he ride off of the fact that you encouraged him to get off with you. Regardless of if you knew if he could or not, regardless of if you knew his hand was providing just enough pleasure for him to do just that. 

There, as your orgasm subsides with his tongue still flicking your sensitive clit, you watch him writhe his hips against your mattress, his eyes slammed shut, and his breath coming out in pornographic moans. So this is what Jake looks like when he cums. It’s desperate, but somehow, it feels passionate too.

You’re all dazed after the fact, pussy pulsing and tingling from the loss of his lips and fingers once he pulls back and lays against your bed with a lazy smile. His pants are uncomfortable, but he doesn’t mind as he wipes his hand across his shirt and watches the way you catch your breath. 

“So,” He tries to say, clearing his throat. “I– um– hope that’s what you needed?”

You’re shy. You’re never fucking shy, especially towards Jake, but god. 

“Um, yeah,” you sigh out, lifting from the bed and looking back at him. Part of you wondering if that’s what it’s supposed to be like when someone gives you good head, or if that’s just…what it’s like when Jake gives head.

For some reason, you genuinely don’t think another man would ever eat you out to that level again. There’s no way, based on experience. 

“It was definitely what I needed.” 

He nods in a shy way, reminding himself that his pants are fucking nasty right now. So, he goes to stand up and extends a hand out to you. 

“Let’s go clean up.” 

You shake your head, not at all wanting to move from this bed. He nods again, pulling your shirt back down for you and leaning to look at you. 

“I’m gonna bring you something to clean up with, and I’m gonna shower.”

You smile at him, a bit dazed as you make yourself comfortable on your messy sheets as you think hard about the fact that this dopey motherfucker really never told you how good he was at this? Rude.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake looks all proud of himself when he comes back to your room and cuddles into bed with you much like he always has. 

“I didn’t expect to sleep over, I have work in the morning.” He whispers in a rasp against your back, curling around you like the perfect big spoon. 

You’re quick to turn on his work alarm on your phone, like you always do when he crashes during weeknights. Because, what best friend doesn’t have alarms set for each other anyway?

After a few more long moments of silence, you try to talk. Mostly because your brain is swimming with the fact that, like, you’re not sure but it’s just– wow. 

“Hey, um–”

“Hmm?” He hums out in a sleep-heavy voice.

“Did you actually enjoy doing that?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I literally came in my pants.” His sudden louder voice causes you to jump, but you relax back into his gasp. 

“Oh,” You think hard. “Is this gonna change stuff between us?”

“Probably, but not in like, a bad way. More like in the can-i-eat-you-out-all-the-time-way.” He responds with mock-confidence, shifting a bit and hugging you closer to him, as if to hide the way he’s trying to make this sound like a joke. For his own comfort, really.

You smile.

“And don’t tell other dudes my secrets.” He adds.

“I won't.”

Jake has his own smile from behind you, wondering if he really is just that good at eating pussy. The truth is, he’s done it a handful of times but he was just really really interested in doing it for you. For…reasons.

・・・・・・THIS WAS ORIGINALLY TWO PARTS, NOW IT’S ONE. YOU’RE WELCOME・・・・・・

“Hey, um,”

“Hmm?” Jake hummed out in a sleep-heavy voice.

“Did you actually enjoy doing that for me?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I literally came in my pants.” He responded in a sudden, louder voice. 

“Oh,” You think hard. “Is this gonna change stuff between us?”

“Probably, but not in like, a bad way. More like in the can-i-eat-you-out-all-the-time-way.” 

You remember the conversation that happened after he went down on you like it was yesterday, and he’s a goddamn liar. Nothing changed in your friendship with him, and he certainly doesn’t ask to eat you out all the time either. If anything, you’ve felt disappointed time and time again with the aftermath of that night.

It’s weighing on you in a strange way. At first, the weeks following the first and apparently, only time Jake went down on you, you almost expected him to ask for a repeat. You wanted to return the favor. You wanted him to ask but he never did. Even when he came over to hang out, even when you tried to lay down hints.

Nothing changed.

In fact, he doesn’t even talk about it. He doesn’t look at you as if he’s tasted you, and he doesn’t act like he came in his palm against your bed, right in front of you. He’s just…Jake. Sweet, caring, aloof, Jake. And you’re just you. Except you want to be someone else at this point. Someone that he does feel differently around after that.

Maybe you weren’t a memorable event for him when it comes to intimacy. Maybe he prefers to pretend it never happened? Maybe he was really just doing you a favor and intending for it to never go past the initial act. Even with his sweet words after the fact. Maybe, that was just to reassure you so it wouldn’t be awkward. 

You’re a version of you who wants to know what the fuck he’s thinking about. Did it taste bad? Did he get cold feet about it all? Arguably, if things did get weird after what happened, you’d feel more comfortable than you do with the situation as it stands. 

It is weird now, but only because it’s not weird for him. 

Even now, as you lay across the same bed where he had his head nestled between your legs, you can almost feel the tingle of what it felt like. The way his hair tickled your thighs, and the way his fingers laid against the flesh of your legs. The sun is beaming in through your windows and it still doesn’t feel as warm as it did when he cuddled against you that night. It’s been weeks and your heart is sick for him by this point. Sick with confusion, angst, lust, maybe even love if you think hard enough. 

You miss him a lot more than before as you throw your hand up to your face in a gentle slap as if to knock yourself out of it. This is insane. Every day you wake up feeling this way, thinking of him, and where you stand with him. It wasn’t like this at first, you truly expected him to come back for more and now you’re just sitting here with a loop of reasons as to why he never did. 

Insane. You’ve gotten head from so many people and didn’t think twice about them the next day, Jake is different though. You knew he would be too.

Why is Jake any different? Why do you miss him so badly right now? Why couldn’t he pick up on it either? Even worse, why do you feel like doing that with him was a mistake?

He’s with his parents for the weekend, and you’re here still thinking about shit that should have been released with your orgasm. 

You haven’t gone on any dates since that day, you haven’t met up with any one other than him to hang out, and at this point you’re starting to feel a little pathetic for falling in so deep. It’s entirely one sided, he makes that very clear.

So, naturally, you hop up with the confidence of a damn lion and decide that today, it ends. You will stop making it weird between the two of you, if he has even noticed anyway. You’re gonna get dressed, look hot as fuck, and sit on your couch swiping left and right until you find a hot piece of man that’s willing to take you out tonight.

That’s when something dawns on you. You remember Jake briefly mentioning Sunghoon to you, which seemed more like an implication if anything at the time. 

Why would Sunghoon be jealous of what happened? You can admit to being attracted to him but it’s not like the two of you hang out often or anything, and it’s also kind of a rule for yourself that you don’t fuck within the friendgroup. Jake was an exception, solely because that’s your best friend. Or, well, was your best friend. 

Now though? Who cares about these little rules you create for yourself? You need a confidence boost. You need your mind to be taken off of this little spiral you keep falling into. Most of all, you need to be proven wrong that you can still get off without it being him. 

So, texting Sunghoon? Easy. 

Thankfully, Sunghoon texting you back at lightning speed seemed even easier for him. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Well, Sunghoon sure did a great job at getting your mind off of Jake for the past couple of hours. 

You lay here in his bed, feeling your body tingle from the sensation of just how well he lived up to the promise of a good time. For hours he touched you, licked against you, fucked you. And yeah, you did fucking enjoy it. 

But why now? Why did you only just decide to give Sunghoon a shot? Why are you lying in his bed, with his heavy arms thrown across you as he snores gently behind you, feeling the need to cry? Why do you wish it was Jake, your best friend who seemed so eager to please and then suddenly leaped ten feet back as if he never suggested it in the first place? 

Your brain is confused despite your body relaxing itself from the state of bliss you were able to experience. You really did enjoy this time with Sunghoon and think that maybe, if you continue to make late night visits to him, the need for your best friend will weaken in time. 

God, if only Jake would just talk about it.

And you fall asleep thinking about that. About how you’ve let your feelings weaken you to the point that it’s genuinely hard to enjoy being pleasured by someone who actually has the capability. 

And, well, you wake up much the same, except Sunghoon was quite quick with his fingers upon waking up himself. Showing you that even if the person you want doesn’t have a thing to do with you, he sure does. 

“Good morning,” He rasps in a sleepy voice, fingers already traveling down your stomach as he hugs up against you from behind. “Glad you finally came through for me.” 

You quirk a brow. Right, Jake is the whole reason you're here. If not for mentioning him, at least.

“I finally came through?” You chuckle, your body jolting at the ticklish sensation of his lips brushing the back of your neck. “You knew I was single, why didn’t you call me?” 

You feel a harsher kiss against your neck, and his fingers only travel further down now. 

“Bro code.” He whispers, dipping his fingers between your still naked thighs. “I’m not overstepping if you’re the one asking for it.” He slides his fingers gently back and forth between your legs, trying to work you up. “And you did.” 

You think hard about that. Bro code, overstepping limits, not coming onto someone unless they do first solely because someone must have asked him not to. And you’d think even harder about who that someone might be, but instead your brain is quickly thrown into the morning sex routine Sunghoon must offer to all of his lovers. 

You enjoy it too, the small moments of bliss where you’re not in your head about what you could have possibly done wrong with Jake for you to end up feeling this way. It’s a brief moment of numbness though, feeling his fingers pleasure you gently can only do so much to quiet your thoughts. 

“Are you saying one of your friends had dibs on me or something?” You laugh in a half-joke, arching your back to rub your ass up and against the bigger and warmer man behind you. 

“You could say that, I’m assuming he missed his chance though–” Sunghoon whispers snidely, now satisfied with how you already drip for him and sliding one of his fingers into you. His other hand, being used to hike one of your legs up and against his hip to open you up for him. “You wouldn’t be here doing this if he didn’t.” 

You clench around his finger unintentionally, pretending you don’t know who you’re both referring to. Mostly because there’s no way in hell it’s your best friend, seeing as how he’s acting like you don’t exist outside of platonic friendship with him. Then again, who else could it be? Jay? Heeseung? Fucking Jungwon? As fucking if. 

“I guess he did miss his chance–” You breathe, now allowing yourself to give into the lazy and slow pleasure being offered. “Deeper.” 

And he listens. Sunghoon goes deeper and deeper with one finger, then two, then three, up until you slip his fingers out of you and plead through your body to have more. Deeper still, holding you from behind, plunging in as if to intentionally fuck the confusion out of you. As if to, maybe, prove that Jake isn’t the only man who can please you now. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

When you eventually find yourself walking through your front door, you do feel better. Sunghoon did have some type of capability to make you feel as desired as Jake did. After all, it’s not often that you sleep over with a man, better yet get fucked again as soon as you wake up with him. 

Even so, you know Jake will be back tomorrow, wanting to hang out yet again as if nothing happened. Thankfully, with Sunghoon around, maybe you can pretend alongside him. Maybe even forget it ever happened. 

You can argue that for the first time, you’re even a bit annoyed when you see his name pop up in your notifications with a call as if you’re not right in the middle of texting Sunghoon. It’s not that you were trying to go back over to his house or anything, but man, he sure is trying to get you to come back for a third round already. 

Maybe you just like when people are eager to please you, or maybe you don’t like to feel as if you’re the one chasing another person. Still, you answer Jake, seemingly releasing all of this resentment you’ve built up for him in an instant. 

“What?” You huff into the phone, feeling it vibrate with another text from Sunghoon and wanting nothing more than to see what his fourth reason would be for you to come over not even two hours after you left. 

“What?” Jake responds in confusion  to you. “What do you mean ‘what’?” 

“I mean what do you want? I’m busy.” You huff again with a roll of your eyes, flopping back on your bed. 

“Oh god, something happened.” Jake groans, though he was simply calling you because he missed your voice. “What’s wrong?” 

“No, not really. Was just trying to figure out what I’m doing tonight when you rudely interrupted me.” 

Something is off, Jake can feel it. Your voice has a bite to it, one that feels like you’re mad at him. Not to mention, he knows what you mean when you say you’re trying to find something to do for the night. He tries to reserve his feelings though, despite wanting that something to be him. 

“Oh, I know there’s an event at one of the clubs downtown tonight I think. Jay mentioned it–” He pauses briefly to hear another annoyed breath from you. “You’re not gonna go with him?” 

“Nah,” You wave off dismissively. “I think I’m just gonna go hang out with Sunghoon.” 

You don’t notice at all the brief and panicked silence for a solid second and a half before Jake reacts.

“Wait, what?” He says quickly after managing to process those words, trying not to sound as panicked as he knows he feels. “Sunghoon? Why?!” 

God, he knew he shouldn’t have said anything about Sunghoon that day, but his confidence was overflowing and he couldn’t help but boast at the time. It’s come back to shoot him in the dick, knowing full well that Sunghoon has been trying to get you into bed since he fucking met you. Hearing you ask for him in this context is something that makes his blood run cold. 

“Relax, I was with him last night. It’s kind of like, maybe gonna be a normal thing now.” 

You refuse to pick up on Jake’s tone. He had all the time in the world to make you feel something other than confusion, and this is just fucking petty at this point. He clearly doesn’t want to have anything with you, so why in the hell should you just sit around hoping? Waiting? 

“Sunghoon? You want to fuck Sunghoon?” He asks in a lower tone, trying to convince himself that he has to be mishearing you. You can hear him shuffle around and close a door behind him, showing that he doesn’t want his parents to hear him. But the frustration showing blatantly in his voice is somehow…satisfying. 

“I already did. I figured he would show me a good time since no one else can, and he did.” You shrug with slight disobedience. Resentment bubbling up in your gut to the extent that you almost want to grill him for having any type of opinion about it. 

Jake hangs on those words for a second. “Since no one else can.” 

He really thought he was the one who could do it for you. 

“Yeah, but–”  Jake starts, feeling like a child almost in the way he protests despite not being in a position to have a say in who you sleep with. “You know what? Nevermind. Do what you want.” He adds blankly, hanging up before you can get another word in. 

Honestly, he doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong because you acted like he was fully capable of doing everything right. Hanging out with him consistently after the fact, not making it weird, flirting with him, asking him to sleep over. 

He wasn’t sure if he should ask you for more or if he should ask you to be his girlfriend first. The whole reason he’s with his parents right now is because he felt the need to run home to his Mom for girl advice. Embarrassing? Yes, but he really wanted to do things right. He cares about you. 

He needed just one single weekend away, and the second he’s gone you’re out fucking other dudes? Fucking Sunghoon? 

By now, that asshole is probably feeling like he’s on top of the world for getting to touch you. Not even he has done what Sunghoon managed to do with you by now and he can’t help but feel pissed about it. 

Whether you’re his or not, Sunghoon never should have been a fucking option. 

So, he calls you right back, pushing back the feeling of how pathetic it seems considering he’s the one who hung up on you. Then, when you don’t pick up, he immediately feels his stomach drop. 

You must be talking to Sunghoon, you must be setting up a time and place to meet with him. And Jake has heard that Sunghoon knows how to fuck. Other people have said he’s good in bed. Surely, if you’ve already been with him once and you’re still wanting to go back to him, those other people weren’t lying. 

To Jake, it feels like he’s losing you to his own friend with each passing second, and it’s weighing so heavy that spamming your phone with calls to interrupt whatever it is you’re doing right now feels like the right thing to do. In fact, it feels like it is the best thing in the world to do. 

He calls again. You don’t answer.

Again.

“What?!” You answer, annoyed. 

“Why would you even want Sunghoon?! Is he really that much better than I am?” He doesn’t think before he says it, because if he did, he wouldn’t have been able to say it at all. 

It’s his turn to experience that awkward silence because in all fairness, you don’t know how to respond to that. You feel annoyed now, you feel confused and quite frankly, blind sided. Since when did he care? 

“What’s that supposed to mean? You came onto me once and then never followed up.” You dead-pan at yourself in the mirror across your bedroom, speaking into the phone with a voice that seems scolding. “I don’t see why you’re mad that I’m hanging out with Sunghoon. We aren’t dating, Jake.”

“Since when? Who said I didn’t want to do it again?” Jake argues back in a whispered voice, showing you that he still can’t be as loud as he’d like to be. He chooses to ignore that last sentence though, pretending as if it doesn’t strike him in the center of the heart. 

“Nobody! That’s the thing, you haven’t said anything about it. Not that you want to, not that you don’t. You’re just being you and it’s driving me up a fucking wall.”

Pause.

“You’re mad because I didn’t make it weird?” It’s like his brain clicks. 

“Pretending it didn’t happen somehow makes it worse.” You lower your voice, ignoring the string of texts Sunghoon is sending you and listening closely to what Jake might say next. Your heart is racing through this hushed argument, and it feels good to admit that you kept thinking about it, even if he hasn’t.

“I wasn’t pretending that it didn’t happen,” He pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “I just wasn't sure what the next step was.”

You’re fucking appalled.

“Jake, I have been flirting with you since it happened because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. You’re the one who didn’t make any moves, so I figured you wanted it to end there.” You sigh loudly, but somehow feel a bit lighter. “Do you have any idea how that fucked with my confidence?”

Jake sighs along with you on the other end of the line. 

“That’s why I was annoyed earlier, and that’s why I’m going to Sunghoon’s tonight.”

“What?” Jake’s voice raises a bit higher. “Still?!” 

It’s the fact that he’s trying to explain himself. Had he known that you were confused by his lack of, um, touching you, he would have done it every day since it happened! Yet, you’re still considering Sunghoon an option? Knife to the heart, honestly. 

Or maybe he’s not being clear enough with you about this. 

You, on the other hand, nod your head as you hum a confirmation to him, smiling and wondering if this conversation will turn into an event that would, perhaps, have you cancel the hook-up with Sunghoon.

“Why? Are you jealous?” You pry.

“You really called him, and now I’m just sitting here in my old room trying to find a way to get to you before he does….again.” An inhale. “ Yes! I’m fucking jealous!” 

You remain silent, trying to pretend that your pettiness isn’t solely to confirm what he seems to be implying to you. Then, an unintentional chuckle leaves your lips. 

“Why are you laughing?!” His voice is raised again, and he doesn’t seem to stop spilling what he needs to say. “I wanted to do that for you for years and you somehow still didn’t know?” He pauses. “I always made it weird between us, what? You thought I treated all of my friends like that?”

You just listen, feeling your heart beat in time with each word he speaks. Strings of sentences like, “I’m going to kick his ass.” and “You thought I’d just eat you out as a friend?! You’re insane.” and “I would have come home last night if you wanted to feel good so badly, why did you have to go see him, of all people?” 

The confirmation of Jake being the friend who forbade Sunghoon from making a move on you is right there, clear as day. 

“Ah, so the Jake I know isn’t the Jake everyone else knows?” You respond, trying to force the tingling feeling in your gut to calm itself. Hearing him be so blatant to you has your heart doing flips, and it’s not an easy task to make it stop.

“Of-fucking-course not!” He rolls his eyes, you can definitely tell. “You had me wrapped around your pinky from day one.”

“And you really thought that, with the way you seemed so uninterested–” You pause, processing his words. “I would have asked you to come home from your parent’s house to get me off? For what? Funsies? You thought I'd be brave enough or selfish enough to ask such a thing?” 

Jake sighs deeply, seemingly fed up with the situation. 

“It wouldn’t be because you are selfish.” He breathes out, almost angrily. “And for the last time, I’m not uninterested. I was just trying to do things right. I don’t just want to fuck you, you know.” 

“And you didn’t think to tell me until weeks after you ate me out?” You smile harder, trying to contain the heat flushing over your cheeks. “Until after I thought I had a pH imbalance and maybe you were just grossed out by me?!” 

“I’m genuinely shocked you didn’t know already. Made me think you weren’t interested enough to like–” He pauses, not wanting to be too telling. “I guess waiting and being polite isn’t really your style. I should have known that though.”

You let him continue, because you can tell he’s simply taking breaths and small pauses to figure out how to express his thoughts to you. 

“You can’t tell me that over the years, you never once noticed how often I stared at you.” He lowers his voice again, softening it to an extent that you actually feel the butterflies fly from your belly to your chest. 

”The fact that I jumped in head first and offered to do that for you? I didn’t think I had to tell you at this point…”He breathes out a chuckle through the line this time. “And for the record, I couldn’t get enough of it. I was just trying to like– I don’t know.”

You listen to him breathe deeply, again. 

“I didn’t want you to think I was in it just for the sex, I guess.”

There. There it is. You’re nearly kicking your feet, feeling him confirm feelings and erase any hint of doubt within you. Despite never truly noticing that he treats you differently compared to his other friends, despite never thinking too hard about the way he looks at you. 

“You acted like it wasn’t a big deal, Jake. I’m not joking. If that’s how you act when you like someone, you shouldn’t blame me for not noticing.”

“I literally tongue fucked you.” He dead-pans. “Friends don’t just do that.”

“I thought we were friends who could do that.” You argue. “But I guess you’re not quite looking to just remain friends, are you?” 

“No,” Jake sighs. “Mom told me I needed to take you out on some extravagant date and express my undying love for you with a handful of red roses, but I guess this is just how it’s gonna be. After all, this is you.” 

“And this is you.” You confirm. 

“I was going to come home tomorrow and try to lie our way to the restaurant, which I still can, if you want. You kind of fucked up my plan though.” 

You pause at his words, suddenly feeling like shit for not realizing sooner. In your defense though, if he really did like you from day one, you didn’t exactly have a chance to see how he would have acted without feelings. The Jake you know is your best friend, and someone you trusted with everything, you thought he treated everyone as well as he treated you. That’s why, when he didn’t change, you couldn’t read him anymore. 

Then again, all of this could have been fucking avoided if he had just voiced it to you. 

“Romance is dead and it’s your fault.” Jake tries to joke, his soft tone somehow coming out even softer as he waits for some type of response from you. 

“So, are we done fighting?” You ask meekly, tapping your finger against your phone and looking up at the ceiling with a smile that by now, you can’t escape. “Since you’ve just expressed your undying love for me and I very much wouldn’t mind going on a date with you so we can work this out face to face?” 

“Are you still going to fuck Sunghoon?” 

You laugh. 

“Oh yeah, for sure–” To his silence, you immediately take it back. “Oh my god, relax. It’s a joke.” 

“Get better jokes, asshole.” 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“What the fuck?” Jake deadpans into the phone, his heart beating far too fast for his health, but vibing with it anyway because by tomorrow night, he’ll be next to you again. “You seriously had sex with her?!” 

“Hey, she’s the one who called me.” Sunghoon shrugs as he listens. “To be fair, Jake, I did tell her that someone else had dibs on her.”

Jake slaps his forehead and rolls his eyes. 

“You’re such a dick– I told you at least three hundred times that I like her! I don’t have dibs.” He gripes, trying to pretend that he’s not imagining Sunghoon with you, the person he wants the most. 

“Damn right you don’t, because she seemed to have a great t–” 

“Sunghoon, stop. I don’t want to know what happened, but like, stop texting her.” 

Sunghoon’s brow raises in curiosity. 

“Ah, did you finally make a move?”

If there’s anything Jake knows Sunghoon won’t do, it’s go for a woman that is actually unavailable. He has his fun, and he’s not one to turn anyone down if he has an interest in them, bro code be damned. And yeah, he’s still a little pissed at him for hooking up with you…but, it is true, Jake made you feel like he wasn’t even an option in his attempts to be a gentleman. 

Still, boundaries need to be set now. Real boundaries.

“I did, and I would really appreciate it if you back off. I’m trying to make something out of this, you know?”

Sunghoon lightens up, sighing at his loss of a would be fuck-buddy that seemed more promising than some he’s had in the past. 

“Jesus, you’re serious about her aren’t you?” He smirks as he speaks, feeling proud of Jake for finally stepping up for himself. “I mean, I can totally see why. Please excuse me as I mourn that sweet, sweet, pu-” 

“Sunghoon.” Jake warns. “Shut the fuck up.” 

“Relax, jesus.” Sunghoon plays it cool, though he actually is mourning it a little bit. “Good on you though. I’ll back off, don’t worry.” 

Jake rolls his eyes yet again, his love-hate relationship with Sunghoon becoming more fond than ever by this point. Only because the confidence he had in himself before all of this wasn’t entirely where it needed to be. It’s true that he wasn’t exactly a pussy eating god before, nor could he even say he’s amazing at sex but, when it comes to you, he can’t help but be excited. He wants to do it all, be it all for you. 

Never in his life has he eaten pussy like that, and never in your life have you felt a mouth so eager to please between your legs. 

Sunghoon could have been something, but he couldn’t have been Jake, ever. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The day couldn’t go by any slower than it already has. 

Jake comes home tonight, and by home, you mean to your apartment where he doesn’t live. 

Your mind goes in loops on what could possibly happen. Scenarios of him getting cold feet and ignoring that any of this happened at all again. Scenes of him unlocking your door, closing in on you, and kissing you before you can even say “hello”. Images of his hands on you, his mouth on you, what it would feel like if he were to…well, oh.

You snap yourself out of it, every bad scenario in your head gets replaced with one where you’ve got Jake working himself on and inside of you. It’s making you feel hot, insane, and entirely too horny for the proposed date night full of talking that needs to be had first. 

Then you freeze, your hand on the handle of your mug as you wonder a bit too hard. 

What if he doesn’t show up at all? 

You did run off the second he left the city and fuck one of your mutual friends. Arguably, you were equally as bad at communicating with him as he was to you during the past few weeks. Sure, you flirted, but was that even enough when he literally put his tongue inside of you “as a friend”? 

God, he’d have every right to not show up. To move on, to never speak to you again. 

You’ve been so stupid. Both of you have, stumbling together but apart into something neither of you could even begin to navigate. For you? Sex is easy. Feelings though? That’s where it gets complicated. Yet, still, you find yourself more willing than ever to let these feelings roam free if he accepts them at face value. 

Solely because of how shitty it felt when you were trying to pretend that Jake was nothing but a one time thing for his sake. 

And when the time comes, after hours of brooding, getting worked up, and feeling insane, you’re looking like a mess when he knocks on your door. So much for looking good for him. You’re an absolute fucking wreck when you open that door and dead-pan stare at him and his bags. 

“Hi,” He smiles, not quite making eye contact because he really is kind of embarrassed by all of this. “I’m here.” 

You step back from the door, eyes remaining on him. 

“You’re here.” You say quietly, watching him step into your apartment and drop his bags. 

You feel his breath before you hear his voice. So much closer than just moments before, right up against your ear, and his arms wrapping tightly around you. 

“Felt like I was gone for too long–” He whines slightly against you, breathing in a breath and taking in your scent. “Didn’t know I could miss you like that.” 

You fucking melt. Out of all of those scenarios and fantasies in your head, this wasn’t one of them. Which goes to show that Jake is the one person in this world who can surprise you time and time again. You’ve hugged him like this hundreds of times, but this one, oh this one. He feels so close after feeling so fucking far away.

“You were gone for two days,” You smile, nuzzling against him and gripping his waist in your own hug. 

“Two days too long, though.” You feel him smile, that little upturn of his lips pushing his cheek up and against you as he chuckles and pulls back.  “We don’t have a lot of time, but we can still make it to the restaurant if you still want to go? I can shower when we get back.”

You pull back, offering him a small nod and feeling a bit let down. You wanted more, especially after that hug. The fact that he can contain himself right now feels isolating. Are you the only one who has a vibrating brain right now? He really wants to have the conversation at the restaurant? 

He really wants to do this the right way?

You look like shit, but arguably he might think he looks worse considering the long trip back to you. Still, the restaurant is the chosen option to have this conversation, and you’re ready to get it over with so that finally the two of you can take a step forward. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The restaurant is nice. There’s a buzz of conversations surrounding the two of you but most of it feels muffled because the only sound you can truly hear is Jake’s hushed and awkward attempts to get the ball rolling. 

“So, I guess that’s why I went to my parent’s house. It’s embarrassing, I know–” He says before you cut him off. 

“Tell me how you felt the past few weeks when we were together.” You say boldly, wanting so badly to have the confirmation that he really does want this, and that he suffered much like you did.

You watch a fan of rosy tint cross his cheeks as he breaks eye contact with you, looking to the table and then back up at you. 

“Okay, um–” He stiffens a bit, glancing around to make sure no one is looking or listening in. “When we weren’t together, it was a lot easier for me to think, but when we were together, I could only really think about one thing.” He admits, nodding to himself. 

You look at him curiously before you see his eyes light up in panic.

“No! No, no. Not like, sex…” He looks down. “I mean, yeah maybe sex too but mostly I just couldn’t stop thinking about ways to make you want me more than anyone else.” 

Your heart swells at his panicked save, and then the words that follow. 

“I think I already did want you more than anyone else.” You admit back to him. “Even if I didn’t know I had feelings until you did that to me– I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”

He smiles, reaching over the table as if to ask for your hand. 

“What about you? What did you think about when we were together after that night?” He asks for his own confirmation now. 

“Sex. Mostly, I guess. I felt like no one else would ever be able to make me feel that good again.” You look away, feeling ashamed and seen. “Goddamn, I sound so dramatic.”

Jake snorts, laughing at how he should have expected this but the confidence boost is a happy surprise to him. 

“To be fair though, Jake, I think I had my feelings and my lust for you mixed up.” You continue. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I still feel both of those things every time I see you, or even think of you.”

“Feelings and lust?” He nods with a smile and wiggling his eyebrows, his eyes glistening in the warm lighting of the restaurant. 

You nod in confirmation, side eyeing the waitress who walks over to take down your order. 

Both of you are somehow dissociated outside of each other, there’s no way you’re not because you don’t recall what you ordered, nor what he ordered, and he appears to be feeling much the same. The moment she walks away, he’s continuing. 

“I was really that good, huh?” A smirk from him, and a nod from you. 

“What about right now then? How do you feel when you look at me?” He follows up, looking down at the table. 

“Both of those things.” You dead-pan, squeezing your legs together as you look at him and feel the warmth radiating from even this far away. The confirmation of feelings is enough by itself to have your thoughts in the gutter about him, especially after weeks of wanting him. 

Especially after having to be in this stupid fucking restaurant in the first place.

He quirks a brow before lowering his voice, his eyes drooping a bit. 

“Do you have any fucking idea how badly I’ve wanted to get my mouth on you?” 

God, there he is. That same bold best friend who originally suggested eating you out in the first place. Not entirely unfounded that he said it, but fuck, your cheeks are searing. 

“Jake, we’re in public.” You warn, knowing damn well that you’ve not been able to think of anything else either, but for the sake of the foundation of this relationship, you want to tame yourself a little bit.

“Since we started hanging out, every fucking time.” He continues, ignoring your warning. “I would get so mad when you’d go to your little hook-ups. Sometimes I even wondered if you did it intentionally to piss me off.” 

Your cheeks are still hot, but now there’s a bit of guilt filling you. 

“You really had no idea how badly I wanted that to be me?” He continues with his streak of confidence, unintentionally dirty talking to you solely because he, genuinely, cannot deny his attraction or his feelings for you by this point. “Even right now, I want nothing more than to have you to myself.”

You pause, the guilt leaving you in an instant as it’s fully replaced with Jake’s eagerness to have you in full, finally. 

“Why–” You sigh, dropping your head into your hands to hide your face from him. “Why are we at this restaurant again?” 

You feel his hand reach back over to you, removing your hands from your face and dipping down to look at you. 

“It’s so fucking hard to contain myself right now. I can admit that.” He whispers, blinking at you. “If you feel satisfied with where we stand, I’d be more than happy to leave this table now and prove everything to you.”

An instant nod from you, and an instant confirmation from Jake. 

You’re both out of the restaurant before a single sip of water, before a single visual inspection of the forgotten food the two of you ordered, and before any doubt could creep in to ruin the electrifying atmosphere you were indulging in with him. 

For Jake, his self control wavers with each passing moment as you sit next to him in the car. You look so calm as he drives as quickly and safely as possible back to your apartment, shaming himself for ever considering the two of you go in the first place. Still, the outcome is somehow more satisfying. Both of you wanting to leave just so you can truly be alone together? He couldn’t ask for a better night. 

Still, your calmness contrasts the way his insides vibrate the closer he gets to your place, and he wonders how the fuck you manage to do it. If you were to simply glance at him at the right moment, you’d see his entire body melt in the fantasies of what the two of you may be willing to do tonight. 

Years worth of pining in his head and heart are bubbling up now. You’re inviting him in, you’re accepting him, you’re wanting him back. 

What he doesn’t know though, is that you are quite literally imagining yourself wrapped in chains to this seat. Why? Because if it weren’t for those astral chains, you’d be on top of him in an instant, reassuring him that if there’s anything in the world you’ve wanted within the past few weeks, it’s him. You’d be apologizing for never taking note of his feelings before, and kissing away all of the moments he wished he could have had with you before, replacing them with very real, firm, hot kisses. 

Thankfully though, you manage to tame the beast from within and somehow, so does he. Up until you get through your apartment door and the electrifying atmosphere sizzles away in an instant. 

You expected to have the confidence to, quite literally, jump on him as soon as your door closed. Instead, you find yourself standing in awe at the entryway. 

Jake, on the other hand, would love nothing more than to have you right this moment, speeding and parking crooked be damned, he will not allow it just yet. 

“Listen,” He reaches out to you, pulling you up and against his chest. “I need to shower before I let myself do anything.” 

You breathe a sigh of relief, noting that the awkwardness came from the fact that Jake’s energy is seeping out of him, lust and worry for possibly not being as clean as he’d like to be for this. 

It feels strange, actually. You can imagine you’ve had many hook-ups with men who wouldn’t even consider a shower before inviting you over. 

“Hurry up then, before I decide to call Sungh-” 

“Don’t you fucking dare make that joke right now,” Jake squeezes you tighter against you, hating himself for constantly bringing up reasons to wait. 

“If we are going to like,” He pauses, struggling to say it out of pure nervousness that you might change your mind. “You know, be exclusive, Sunghoon’s name is forbidden.”

You chuckle against him before shoving him back in a playful way. 

“Deal. Now, can you fucking hurry?” You roll your eyes playfully, internally a little thankful for the short moments you will have to prepare yourself for this. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Damn this shower for feeling so good. Jake could fall asleep under the warmth if it weren’t for the fact that he’s been half-hard this entire time and truly fighting with himself on how to approach this situation.

It’s kind of awkward, actually. Knowing exactly what the two of you are about to do but having to wait even for fifteen minutes makes it seem like you both have a scheduled hook up and nothing more. 

It’s not a hook up though. Jake is finally where he’s always wanted to be with you, in your shower priming his body to go absolutely fucking insane on you. Before, when he ate you out, he really was controlling himself. He wanted to do more with you so bad, and now? God…

He’s flushed as he finally makes his way out of the shower, length still stiffening and softening with each thought that passes. He can barely look at himself in the mirror without wanting to laugh at how embarrassing he truly is. 

You’d probably laugh too, and he’d love the sound of it. 

Then, he’s faced with a dilemma. 

You, on the other hand, find yourself lying quietly in your bedroom after doing your best to fix the mess of yourself for whatever Jake may offer. Waiting for him, and ultimately wondering what the fuck is taking him so long when you finally hear the bathroom door open.

Faintly, you can smell your shampoo and body wash that he used as you hear him make his way to the living room and not find you. 

Then, you hear him making his way to your room. He doesn’t open the door any further than it already was and instead, stands behind it quietly before muttering out. 

“Um,” He starts, putting his hand on your door and only peeking his head in. “I wasn’t sure if there was a point to putting my clothes on–” 

Fucking pause.

God, he must sound so stupid saying that, especially after looking into your room and seeing you lying against your bed changed into the exact same pajamas you put on the night he initially made a move on you through the guise of friendship. 

Well, now it’s not even a question and he was right to assume that all he needed to do was wrap a towel around his waist and come to you. 

You watch his eyes travel your body curiously, a smile forming on his face.

“If you’re wondering if I put panties on this time too,” You smile, reaching a hand out as if to invite him to open that door and come have at it. “I didn’t.”

That’s all it takes, really, to have him pushing the door open and not-so-calmly making his way to your bed. 

Seeing his naked and damp chest is one thing, but smelling your scent all over him is another, especially when the first thing he does is practically envelop you with his body and plant his lips straight on your own. 

The first real kiss. Despite his lips having been on you before, you melt into it and find yourself forgetting how differently he’s acting now compared to before. He was so confident, so cocky, and now he’s almost docile. Meek. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” He leans back to whisper, adjusting his body so that he’s more comfortable and leaning down on one arm while the other holds your cheek. “Can’t believe you let me eat you out before ever letting me actually kiss you.”

Your face heats up at the comment, making you feel more scandalous than you ever truly tried to be. But he’s not wrong, and you regret making him feel like eating you out was the only way to get to your heart.

Strangely though, it was the way to your heart. Him doing that for you practically threw you into the deep end in search for more, from him, specifically. 

“Can’t believe you decided that you should just eat me out rather than admit your feelings for me.” You counter with a smile, lifting your head to kiss against him again and pretending you can’t feel the weight of his length under the loosely knotted towel on his waist. 

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” He says through the kisses, quickly losing the ability to speak when you lick against his bottom lip and, ultimately, take control of the act.

He wonders what your mouth could do to him. His entire body reacts to the way your tongue flicks and licks against his own, it takes everything in him to try and control himself from pushing too far too soon– until he realizes that there is no reason to control himself now. 

Never has making out gotten him this turned on, and it’s not a surprise because it’s you. 

He half moans, half chuckles into your kiss when he does it, pressing his hips down and against your thigh much like he did previously to the very mattress he’s got you lying against. 

“There’s so much I want to do,” He finally admits, pulling back from the kiss and hanging his head to feel how his cock reacts to the flesh of your thigh. “Please, let me do all of it.” 

You sigh, somehow feeling a pang of arousal radiate between your legs despite not yet being touched there. The weight of him on you is enough, and all you can do is nod and await the ways he intends to relieve himself with you.

Hours of head, he could give. Even more hours of burying his cock between those pretty lips and watching you return the favor for him. His confidence grows as your body moves under him, waiting, waiting, waiting for what he will do next. 

First, he plants another kiss to you, pressing his hips hard against your thigh with a breathy sigh before moving his lips down, against your neck. 

At the same time, his hands work their way up your loose shirt, cupping one breast in his palm and easily teasing your nipple with his fingers. He works his lips down the center of your clothed chest, down to your stomach, and then up again. His nose nudges your shirt up with each kiss, until his lips replace his fingers and he’s sucking your nipple into his mouth.

You’ve never felt so wanted in your life with the way he appears to be savoring you. Leaving his own pleasure neglected once again, his entire focus is on you. You arch your back up a bit, hands shooting to his head and cradling it there against your breast. 

He groans when you scratch against the nape of his neck, wiggling your hips under him and chasing the sensation that his mouth manages to send to your clit. He groans again when your nipple remains firm between his lips, and he begins to nibble. 

And this time, he moans when he manages to trail one of his hands down just to see how much it will take of this to get you wet. He tucks one hand under your shorts, only to find that you’re already dripping, soaking his fingers with a mere single slide up your folds.

“Fuck,” He sighs as if it’s a compliment when he pops his mouth off of you, flicking his head up to look at your already dazed eyes. “Already?” 

You glance away, embarrassed by how badly you want the man who was once your best friend, and is now….more than that. You can feel his fingers graze and gently play around with the heat your body has already released for him, rolling your eyes back each time he pretends he’s going to offer pressure to your clit. 

He’s fucking teasing you, and you know it.

He knows it too, because of fucking course he is. After years of torture, wondering if you’d ever manage to get wet at all with the thought of him, here you are, dripping under him when all he’s done is kiss you and fondle your nipples. 

Briefly, he remembers how needy your hips were when his tongue was seeping into you. He remembers the taste of each thrust you pressed against his face, and the smell of how badly you needed him at the time. 

As used as he was by you that night, he wants nothing more now than to pull those same desperate moans from you, to taste the wet inside of you that no man ever managed to release for you. 

“I feel like I’m going insane,” He finally breathes out, still toying with your folds and keeping an eye on the way your eyes glare back at him. “I want you so fucking bad–” He stutters now, instantly sliding his fingers into you and scooting down on the bed at lightening speed, pressing your loose shorts to the side just to get the taste of you against his lips again.

Your legs instantly shoot over his shoulders, and one of his hands reaches up to hug your thigh against him as his tongue immediately laps at every dip and crease of your cunt. His eyes nearly roll back at being able to experience this again, his fingers holding firm without a single movement just so he can feel your body confirm that you want him just as much. 

The clench around his fingers are enough, and he licks around them only for a moment before returning his lips to your clit and giving you all he’s got. 

All he can feel is your legs tightening around his head, nearly lifting your ass up and off of the bed, all he can hear is his own moans vibrating through him each time he hears you react. 

Arguably, even after that brief moment of teasing from him, feeling his mouth so eager, much like before, sent you straight into a blissed state and made you forget about the restaurant, the shower, the weeks of pining before this. His mouth is so warm, and his vibrating moans sooth your clit through its desperate attempts to beg for more. 

You can’t help the fact that your legs hug his head, or the way your hands shoot down much like before, scratching through his hair before dropping down and spreading yourself open with two fingers solely to expose your clit in full to the assault of his tongue he’s giving you. 

He missed you so much, he missed this so much. Never again will he leave you wondering, from this point forward, you should be well aware that if you so much as pushed him to his knees and lifted a leg over his shoulder, he’d be eating like a fucking king. 

Still, even with his immense love for kissing your pussy until your legs shake, there’s more to be experienced here than just this. His pace slows with the reality of that, and only now does he move his fingers with intent, and he pulls back to see how you’re spreading yourself for him, even as your legs fall from his shoulders.

“Fuck.” He rasps, lips glistening with a mixture of his own saliva and your slick. 

You lend him a drunken smile, nodding slowly as you focus in on the way his fingers scissor you open. Within a blink though, his face is right there hovering above you, staring intently at the way you react to his fingers. 

“You look so good right now, you know that?” He compliments, leaning down again to plant a kiss against you, only pumping his fingers in faster when your kiss appears to be more hungry than his own. “God, I can feel you squeeze my fingers–” 

And it’s true, he’s seeing stars solely because he can feel the clench of your pussy walls pushing his two fingers together, almost pushing against his attempts to scissor you open and curl them into the spot inside he knows you have. He can only imagine how good that would feel if he were to…

His eyes squeeze shut in a drawn out moan at the thought, his own kiss growing more hungry as he releases the towel from his waist and quickens the pace of his fingers inside of you. 

You can feel him press his cock against you, and the weight of it only becomes heavier when his fingers pause inside of you just so he can slip them out and use those same slick-coated digits to hold his length down and against you before he slides it between your lips. Now coating himself in the same wet sensation. 

You listen closely to his moan, knowing that he seems fond of neglecting his own pleasure to the point of doing near-embarrassing things to get it back when he needs it the most. It’s strangled, almost. You can hear him swallow around it when he slides up harshly, bumping your clit and causing your shorts to stretch against the crease of your thigh. 

He seems so…desperate. Yet, he can have anything he wants. 

“Keep it spread open–” He mutters when he feels you try to remove the hand that had been holding your pussy out on display for him. “I want to feel all of it.”

God, you’ve never heard him say something so sexy. Easily you do as he says, now using both hands to hold either side of your pussy open for him, and feeling the underside of his length slide against your hole. 

You let out a pleased sigh, despite your shorts becoming a nuisance at this point. It’s easy to forget you’re still wearing them though, because they only become drenched more and more as the moments pass with Jake.

You can genuinely just assume that his cock must be aching as he does this, leaking all over you. That’s something you don’t mind at all, because the stimulation is far beyond what you could ever ask for. 

“Jake–” You try to speak, only to be cut off by his hand sliding under your head and his lips attaching yet again to you.

There, you can’t help it when you remove your hands and shoot them up to his face. Holding him there, feeling the way his jaw moves when he licks into your mouth in a desperate attempt to get as much of you as he can in this moment. 

His hips fuck forward much like they did into his palm all those weeks ago, and the anticipation of if or when he finally plunges it into you drives you to kiss him just as hard as he does you.

There is nothing but the sound of kissing in the room save for muffled moans from both of you, entirely tangled up together as he does nothing more than grind himself against you. His hand cradling your head and the other still pressing his length down and against you as close as he can manage. Yours, cupping his cheeks as he kisses you, up until you run one hand down to take over for him.

In that moment, with his free and now shaking hand, he pulls back entirely and just looks at you.

He’s out of it, entirely gone from this world as he stares down with his hair drying by the minute from that shower, messy as all hell with darkened hooded eyes. He continues to stare, each thrust against you becoming pointed to the extent that it almost feels like he’s already fucked you for hours. 

And then, you feel it. The weight lifting, your shorts being stretched until they’re sliding down your thighs and off of you, and then the warmth as he adjusts his hips just barely enough to line up with your quivering hole, practically begging for him to stretch you out for the first time. 

His eyes falter only for a moment when he realizes that this is a moment he will never forget. The way you look up at him with glassy and needy eyes, out of breath, seemingly loving him as much as he’s always loved you. 

“Yeah?” He whispers, not breaking eye contact even for a moment. 

“Please.” You mutter out, not fully intending for it to sound so broken.

And as broken as your voice was in that instance, he grows much weaker by it. Dropping his head with a deep sigh, a smile, and then a chuckle.

“You really, really, can’t look at me like that and expect me to be gentle…” He pauses to look at you again. “For your sake, please tell me to slow down.”

You can barely comprehend a word he’s saying when you can feel the head of his cock teasing where you need it the most. 

“Please.” You rasp out again, wrapping your legs around his waist and forcing his body forward, ultimately sliding the tip of his length into you yourself. 

“Oh, fuck–” He chokes out before sucking in a breath and letting out a moan at the feeling. His body jerks at the sensation, the sound of your voice, the way you pulse around him. “Fuck, so good.” He continues to mutter, controlling himself for only a few seconds longer just to see if you have the ability to understand that he truly and honestly will not have the ability to go easy on you at this point. 

“Deeper.” You plead, squeezing your legs tighter around him, uncaring of his attempt to control the situation. 

That’s all it takes. Your broken voice already had him shaking, and now he’s giving up any and all control that he could have possibly hoped to have. 

Right there, with your legs hugging his waist, your hands gripping the pillow behind your head, and his hands finding purchase on either side of your shoulders, he sinks himself into you as deep as he can go and feels as if the life is being choked out of him over how fucking good it feels. 

He throws his head back in an erotic and attractive moan of relief, allowing you a glimpse at the expanse of his stretched neck, naked of any marked territory. Still, your vision goes white when the stretch hits you.

So big, so strong on top of you. You can imagine he really could fuck you hard, you hope he doesn’t go gentle on you at all, actually

“Shit, please,” You moan brokenly again, releasing your pillow and gripping his forearms. “Jake, god–” You have no words to describe how good he feels inside of you, you couldn’t begin to fathom trying to explain to him how perfect he is. 

It feels deep, deeper than you ever could have imagined. His length alone should have been enough to tell you that, but you hadn’t yet factored in the girth of it. So heavy inside of you, touching each soft and sensitive surface your pussy has to offer. 

Your body jolts in adjustment, knocking the breath out of you despite him not moving just yet. 

“Shh–” He soothes, not at all actually wanting to hush your cries for him. In fact, he’s simply saying it because he could quite literally release at any moment if you continue to speak and clench him like this. And when he finally looks down at you, he can’t fucking help it.

His hips move at their own volition, and he was right in believing there is no gentle fuck to be had here. He slides out only slightly, with the intent to fuck you as full of him as he can. He wants to stay deep, because you asked, and he wants to keep you feeling stretched around him because he can truly never get over the way you look and sound right now. 

You shake at the feeling of him pressing impossibly deeper into you, keeping his hips flush against you before snapping his hips back more now. A slightly empty feeling inside of you being filled once again within a second. 

His moans sound beautiful, he feels beautiful, and all you can do is stare up at him with watery eyes and a slack jaw, wondering why it took him so long to do this with you.

Wondering why it took you so long to want it at all, when now, you think you could never feel this good with another person again. 

His arms flex in your grasp with each thrust, and his eyes land on each visible part of your body before he weakens his stance and lowers himself to you, hips still fucking you open at a pace that’s only becoming more and more rapid, more and more fucking blinding. 

“Yeah, yeah–” Jake suddenly chimes with out of breath words, kissing you before you can comprehend or respond to those words. “No one has ever reacted like this for me–” He continues, pointing his thrusts harder into you. “Feels so good, so tight around me.” He chokes up at the last few words, stuttering his and picking up a different pace.

This time, those harsh thrusts pull back further, emptying you before slowly pressing into you again. 

“I want you to remember how this feels,” He continues, seemingly rambling against your lips with each slow thrust. “No one will ever fuck you like I will.” 

Your hooded eyes shoot open with arousal at his confident boasting. Those words feel so final, as if it isn’t even a rule, but a logical fact that only the two of you could ever find to be true. 

You can’t even manage a response, and instead moan before tucking your lips up and against his neck, using one hand to grip his hair and skew his head. 

That once naked and markless neck is no more. He is yours, and you’re lucky enough now to know that this is exactly how he wants you to feel. 

“Ahh, you like that?” He questions your reaction to his words, feeling your hips make attempts to meet him halfway with each thrust. “You like when I talk?” He continues to urge your sucking lips to speak out to him, to answer him, to boost his ego just a bit more. 

“So much,” You nearly whimper against his neck, moving your lips to another spot. “Love when you’re confident like this–”

He’s in heaven hearing those words. As if it’s a confirmation that he wasn’t just talking dirty. You both truly take those words and will fuck by them from this point forward. He truly doesn’t want anyone else, and hopefully, you’d never give another person the chance to make an attempt to fuck you the way he does. 

And then the room falls silent again, as if Jake is focused on reminding you with each passing second that he’s never been more sure or right of something in his life. Despite you already believing him, the way his cock pulses inside of you is enough of a reminder even if he had never said it in the first place. 

His pace quickens again, and then slows, and then stutters. Only to fall back into a good rhythm before his entire body starts to shake through the act. 

You wonder if this is it. Is this how his body reacts when he’s about to cum? Is this what his face looks like? Is this what his eyes do? Did his arms strain like this the first time? Did his moans come out as choked and desperate? 

None of that matters, because as quickly as it started, he buries himself into you again and stays in that one spot, shaking and timidly looking down at you. 

“Don’t move, please, don’t move.” He practically begs, losing himself to the way your hips chase the feeling of constant stimulation. “Stop moving.” He pleads again, pulling his chest from you and sitting up on his knees, keeping his cock in place deep within you. 

You watch him, unable to keep your hips still, and he watches you– trying to keep his orgasm under control before seeing your fingers trail down your stomach and to your clit.

There, he loses himself, watching you rub the soft spot just above where his cock stuffs you full. 

“I can’t,” He chokes out, snapping his hips back and allowing himself to get lost in the feeling. “Fuck, I really can’t.” He continues to mutter out, pressing his strings of cum ever deeper inside of you as he feels every muscle in his body tense. 

It feels so sensitive, but he can’t stop moving, feeling his cum fill you up to the point it’s surely being pressed out of you by his desperate length wanting nothing more than to stay inside of you.

You moan through it with him, encouraging him to lose himself inside of you, and he’s so beautiful when he does it. The fact that he does it at all has your body tensing on its own. Teetering on the edge of your own orgasm with the way your fingers almost aggressively chase after the feeling he appears to still be releasing inside of you.

And then, emptiness. You are left empty and dripping, fingers still chasing your release before–

“What the fu–” You moan, squeezing your eyes shut at the feeling of his tongue instantly back on you. As if he’s looping back to the beginning of it all, uncaring of tasting himself solely because through it all, he can still taste you. “Jake, Fuck–yes, right there.” You continue to groan when he replaces his tongue against your hole with his fingers, fucking into you as quickly as he can before nudging your fingers away and taking over the chase of your orgasm. 

You’re entirely amazed by how eager he is to pull it from you, and that alone is enough. The desperate ways in which he decided to pleasure you right in this moment, it’s enough.

Your hands instantly reach for his hair, gripping so tightly that you can hear the pained sound he lets out at the sheer force behind it. You very nearly rub his nose in the mess he’s made of you out of the sheer arousal you feel through your orgasm. 

You’re seeing white, feeling his fingers expertly work you open and somehow don’t feel disappointed at all that you didn’t get there before he pulled out of you. You can still feel him dripping out, fingers squelching and sliding through the mixture of both orgasms inside of you. And his tongue, good lord his fucking tongue, licking up every bit and eagerly flicking your clit at a pace much faster than he offered before.

And now, you find your legs nearly kicking him across the room. As soon as the orgasm subsides, your body goes into overdrive with the overwhelming sensitivity between your legs and all he can do is laugh at the way you practically do kick him.

Right off the bed, actually, he tumbles. 

You lay there, staring into space as you attempt to bring yourself back to reality when you see his messy hair and glistening eyes peek from the edge of your bed at you. His shoulders huffing with each deep breath he takes. 

“Jesus fucking christ.” You manage to gasp out, spread eagle and almost completely naked on your bed save for the forgotten shirt that’s still pushed up to your collarbone. 

He makes his way back up to you, pressing your legs together, lowering your shirt, and planting his heavy dead-weight right on top of you. 

A solid ten minutes pass as the two of you lay there in the mess you’ve both created. Heavy breaths turn to easy, balanced breaths together. You can barely hold your eyes open when he finally rolls off of you and right up against your side. 

“Can I ask you something?” He mutters, throat dry and stomach growling embarrassingly loud. 

“Hm?” You hum out, entirely ready to just sleep in the mess.

“Are you always like that?” He questions, a little hint of doubt breaking his confidence. “Like, did Sunghoon see you act like that too?” 

You crack your eyes open and instantly turn to face him. 

“You’re insane if you think Sunghoon is that good. I’ve never used the word ‘please’ in my life.”

Jake glances away, thinking to himself and letting those words sink in.

“Well,” He starts, pausing and feeling that little pit in his stomach return. “That’s a lie because I’ve heard you use your manners at least twice in the years I’ve known you.” 

You smile, loving that the two of you can still be somewhat catty and playful even after the fact that you just realized how insanely in love with him you are. 

“Jake, no one has ever made me act like this in bed.” You try to reassure him. “I don’t think anyone else could, besides you.”

He smiles with a nod, running his hands down your body before pausing at the half dried cum that managed to make its way up to your stomach. And then? He groans. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It’s insane really, that all it took for you to fall in love with the person you think you were always meant to love was him admitting it. Even more insane that he decided to take the route that involved faux playful head, with no feelings attached despite his feelings being deeply fucking attached. 

Still, the route taken to get to this point, he thinks, is fitting for the two of you. Especially now that he can look at Sunghoon without wanting to strangle him, and he can look at you knowing you’d very much invite him to strangle you, you know, considering the fact that you’re now trying to explore every sexual realm in the fucking universe with him.

Even with the desperate need to have you under him any chance he gets, and the fucking, and the arousal, none of it shines brighter than the small intimate moments he has with you that aren’t weighed down by pining or lust. 

As playful as the two of you are together, there is so much love here. So much love to still be discovered too, and he can’t help but feel excited by it. 

Romance isn’t dead, despite how the two of you tried to fucking butcher it.