#i have not thought past these basic ideas and probably never will

[deaths-accountant]

Not an essay, but in Year 9, Religious Studies did a half-term on the Holocaust, which I was excited for, as I liked history and hated RS. But it turned out they didn't really teach us anything. So it transpired that we were assigned to make a piece of art based on what we learned about the Holocaust.

Which was kind of an insane thing to ask 13–14-year-olds, who had largely been treating these lessons as much of a joke as every other RS lesson. I procrastinated on this because... err... what, and because I had other things to do. So I ended up, the day before, still having no idea how to do this respectfully and drawing a stick figure outline with a yellow star and blood on it, surrounded by barbed wire.

The outline turned out terribly distorted, which, in the writing we were supposed to submit with it, I said was due to starvation. The yellow star had a line down the middle from when I drew it wrong, which I turned into it being cracked down the middle. I said that this represented the Nazis attempting to divide the Jewish people but them staying together—I knew this was bullshit. I had heard the stories of people in concentration camps betraying each other for any chance to cling to survival, but it was exactly the kind of platitude we had been taught in RS for the past few weeks, so I figured it would go down well.

I handed this in apprehensive but expecting the teacher wouldn't have the nerve to call me out on it. I was prepared to be told that I hadn't done the homework properly, but I wasn't prepared to be told it was one of the best in the class and asked to speak about it in front of the class. The marking was meant to be for the writing, not the art itself, you see.

This was a bit shocking at the time, and I definitely hated having to get up at the front of the class and say the same bullshit description in front of everyone. But in hindsight, I think it shows a real failure of Holocaust education.

We weren't being taught any history, and we weren't expected to say things that were true—we were expected to recite positive platitudes about Holocaust victims. And the course was filled with all the same busywork that Year 9 education on any other topic is, not conveying any sense of seriousness. Not that a sense of seriousness would have saved it when you're trying to do Holocaust education without actually teaching people about history.

Fundamentally, it was playing off the stereotyped idea of the Holocaust—that the Nazis were a unique evil who came out of nowhere, that there was no resistance and no heterogeneity, who had no motivation, and that everyone they victimized was a perfect, angelic victim who never tried to save themselves.

It was an education by a probably tired teacher, aiming only to get students to say "Jews are good," rather than to teach them what happened during the Holocaust. As if making people say that is going to stop anyone from becoming antisemites.

It was a sanitized view of the Holocaust, which reinforced the idea that there are no lessons that can be learned for our society. It was a course that resulted from someone being told they have to teach about the Holocaust without knowing how to do that. It was a course that didn't itself know how to treat the Holocaust respectfully because it wanted to treat the Holocaust as a magic wand to wave to get children to say that they don't hate anyone—and because our education system isn't designed to bother teaching children anything until they reach GCSE age.

Someone making a piece of art like that, not for a homework task, wouldn't just be bad art—it would be outright offensive. But the teacher wouldn't say that because she didn't have the time, or the understanding, or the energy to care. And if she did, she would basically have had to reprimand most of the class for actually doing the task that she set.

I thought I'd pulled off a great heist at the time, but realistically, the teacher just had no incentive not to buy my bullshit.

I guess the lesson here is that just saying you'll do Holocaust education isn't enough, and it needs to actually be resourced. In an endogenously marketised school system, where resources are only available for examined courses, it will default to reinforcing preconceptions, because that's what's cheapest.

Have you ever basically bullshitted an essay and gotten a great grade?

[greeenchrysanthemums]

Hhhmmm I am thinking of a dungeon meshi au for the NHO in which Etho is a tall-man mage, Beef is a bull beastkin, Bdubs is a dwarf, and Doc is a centaur of some kind...

The group journeys too deep and end up fighting a dragon and Etho gets eaten by the beast right after using a teleportation spell to send the rest of them out of the dungeon, just like in the series itself.

Iskall would be the Senshi-like character who lives in the dungeon, I think. He knows everything there is to know about the dungeon and is more than willing to help them retrieve Etho. He is also a dwarf.

Canaries Gem, Pearl, False, and Grian...

Cleo taking the Kabru role...

Mad soccer/Dungeon master Scar...

[deadrlngers]

i was tagged by @shadowglens and @risingsh0t to make some ocs in this picrew. thank you so much besties, i loved this picrew so much!! <3

vesper moxley (cp2077) • victoria gray (cp2077) joelle knight (fo4) • nina bower (fo4) selene (oblivion) • hiraeth (skyrim)

tagging: @uldwynsovs @arklay @devilbrakers @nuclearstorms @morvaris @girlbosselrond @indorilnerevarine @moiragf @cultistbase @faarkas @steelport @nokstella @reaperkiller @malefiicarum @brujah @calenhads @lightwardens @aelyosos and whoever else wants to do this or that i missed bc i'm terribly forgetful sorry!!

[gobadorgohome]

Came up with another cool turbo oc concept. Problem: she’s still a concept …

[sophiamcdougall]

You're a reasonably informed person on the internet. You've experienced things like no longer being able to get files off an old storage device, media you've downloaded suddenly going poof, sites and forums with troves full of people's thoughts and ideas vanishing forever. You've heard of cybercrime. You've read articles about lost media. You have at least a basic understanding that digital data is vulnerable, is what I'm saying. I'm guessing that you're also aware that history is, you know... important? And that it's an ongoing study, requiring ... data about how people live? And that it's not just about stanning celebrities that happen to be dead? Congratulations, you are significantly better-informed than the British government! So they're currently like "Oh hai can we destroy all these historical documents pls? To save money? Because we'll digitise them first so it's fine! That'll be easy, cheap and reliable -- right? These wills from the 1850s will totally be fine for another 170 years as a PNG or whatever, yeah? We didn't need to do an impact assesment about this because it's clearly win-win! We'd keep the physical wills of Famous People™ though because Famous People™ actually matter, unlike you plebs. We don't think there are any equalities implications about this, either! Also the only examples of Famous People™ we can think of are all white and rich, only one is a woman and she got famous because of the guy she married. Kisses!"

Yes, this is the same Government that's like "Oh no removing a statue of slave trader is erasing history :(" You have, however, until 23 February 2024 to politely inquire of them what the fuck they are smoking. And they will have to publish a summary of the responses they receive. And it will look kind of bad if the feedback is well-argued, informative and overwhelmingly negative and they go ahead and do it anyway. I currently edit documents including responses to consultations like (but significantly less insane) than this one. Responses do actually matter. I would particularly encourage British people/people based in the UK to do this, but as far as I can see it doesn't say you have to be either. If you are, say, a historian or an archivist, or someone who specialises in digital data do say so and draw on your expertise in your answers. This isn't a question of filling out a form. You have to manually compose an email answering the 12 questions in the consultation paper at the link above. I'll put my own answers under the fold. Note -- I never know if I'm being too rude in these sorts of things. You probably shouldn't be ruder than I have been.

Please do not copy and paste any of this: that would defeat the purpose. This isn't a petition, they need to see a range of individual responses. But it may give you a jumping-off point.

Question 1: Should the current law providing for the inspection of wills be preserved?

Yes. Our ability to understand our shared past is a fundamental aspect of our heritage. It is not possible for any authority to know in advance what future insights they are supporting or impeding by their treatment of material evidence. Safeguarding the historical record for future generations should be considered an extremely important duty.

Question 2: Are there any reforms you would suggest to the current law enabling wills to be inspected?

No.

Question 3: Are there any reasons why the High Court should store original paper will documents on a permanent basis, as opposed to just retaining a digitised copy of that material?

Yes. I am amazed that the recent cyber attack on the British Library, which has effectively paralysed it completely, not been sufficient to answer this question for you.  I also refer you to the fate of the Domesday Project. Digital storage is useful and can help more people access information; however, it is also inherently fragile. Malice, accident, or eventual inevitable obsolescence not merely might occur, but absolutely should be expected. It is ludicrously naive and reflects a truly unpardonable ignorance to assume that information preserved only in digital form is somehow inviolable and safe, or that a physical document once digitised, never need be digitised again..At absolute minimum, it should be understood as certain that at least some of any digital-only archive will eventually be permanently lost. It is not remotely implausible that all of it would be. Preserving the physical documents provides a crucial failsafe. It also allows any errors in reproduction -- also inevitable-- to be, eventually, seen and corrected. Note that maintaining, upgrading and replacing digital infrastructure is not free, easy or reliable. Over the long term, risks to the data concerned can only accumulate.

"Unlike the methods for preserving analog documents that have been honed over millennia, there is no deep precedence to look to regarding the management of digital records. As such, the processing, long-term storage, and distribution potential of archival digital data are highly unresolved issues. [..] the more digital data is migrated, translated, and re-compressed into new formats, the more room there is for information to be lost, be it at the microbit-level of preservation. Any failure to contend with the instability of digital storage mediums, hardware obsolescence, and software obsolescence thus meets a terminal end—the definitive loss of information. The common belief that digital data is safe so long as it is backed up according to the 3-2-1 rule (3 copies on 2 different formats with 1 copy saved off site) belies the fact that it is fundamentally unclear how long digital information can or will remain intact. What is certain is that its unique vulnerabilities do become more pertinent with age."  -- James Boyda, On Loss in the 21st Century: Digital Decay and the Archive, Introduction.

Question 4: Do you agree that after a certain time original paper documents (from 1858 onwards) may be destroyed (other than for famous individuals)? Are there any alternatives, involving the public or private sector, you can suggest to their being destroyed?

Absolutely not. And I would have hoped we were past the "great man" theory of history. Firstly, you do not know which figures will still be considered "famous" in the future and which currently obscure individuals may deserve and eventually receive greater attention. I note that of the three figures you mention here as notable enough to have their wills preserved, all are white, the majority are male (the one woman having achieved fame through marriage) and all were wealthy at the time of their death. Any such approach will certainly cull evidence of the lives of women, people of colour and the poor from the historical record, and send a clear message about whose lives you consider worth remembering.

Secondly, the famous and successsful are only a small part of our history. Understanding the realities that shaped our past and continue to mould our present requires evidence of the lives of so-called "ordinary people"!

Did you even speak to any historians before coming up with this idea?

Entrusting the documents to the private sector would be similarly disastrous. What happens when a private company goes bust or decides that preserving this material is no longer profitable? What reasonable person, confronted with our crumbling privatised water infrastructure, would willingly consign any part of our heritage to a similar fate?

Question 5: Do you agree that there is equivalence between paper and digital copies of wills so that the ECA 2000 can be used?

No. And it raises serious questions about the skill and knowledge base within HMCTS and the government that the very basic concepts of data loss and the digital dark age appear to be unknown to you. I also refer you to the Domesday Project.

Question 6: Are there any other matters directly related to the retention of digital or paper wills that are not covered by the proposed exercise of the powers in the ECA 2000 that you consider are necessary?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 7: If the Government pursues preserving permanently only a digital copy of a will document, should it seek to reform the primary legislation by introducing a Bill or do so under the ECA 2000?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 8: If the Government moves to digital only copies of original will documents, what do you think the retention period for the original paper wills should be? Please give reasons and state what you believe the minimum retention period should be and whether you consider the Government’s suggestion of 25 years to be reasonable.

There is no good version of this plan. The physical documents should be preserved.

Question 9: Do you agree with the principle that wills of famous people should be preserved in the original paper form for historic interest?

This question betrays deep ignorance of what "historic interest" actually is. The study of history is not simply glorified celebrity gossip. If anything, the physical wills of currently famous people could be considered more expendable as it is likely that their contents are so widely diffused as to be relatively "safe", whereas the wills of so-called "ordinary people" will, especially in aggregate, provide insights that have not yet been explored.

Question 10: Do you have any initial suggestions on the criteria which should be adopted for identifying famous/historic figures whose original paper will document should be preserved permanently?

Abandon this entire lamentable plan. As previously discussed, you do not and cannot know who will be considered "famous" in the future, and fame is a profoundly flawed criterion of historical significance.

Question 11: Do you agree that the Probate Registries should only permanently retain wills and codicils from the documents submitted in support of a probate application? Please explain, if setting out the case for retention of any other documents.

No, all the documents should be preserved indefinitely.

Question 12: Do you agree that we have correctly identified the range and extent of the equalities impacts under each of these proposals set out in this consultation? Please give reasons and supply evidence of further equalities impacts as appropriate.

No. You appear to have neglected equalities impacts entirely. As discussed, in your drive to prioritise "famous people", your plan will certainly prioritise the white, wealthy and mostly the male, as your "Charles Dickens, Charles Darwin and Princess Diana" examples amply indicate. This plan will create a two-tier system where evidence of the lives of the privileged is carefully preserved while information regarding people of colour, women, the working class and other disadvantaged groups is disproportionately abandoned to digital decay and eventual loss. Current and future historians from, or specialising in the history of minority groups will be especially impoverished by this.  

[simpjaes]

Wrong brother ― P.JS & P.SH

anonymous requested: jayhoon with “fucking the wrong brother” trope 😵‍💫

wc: 1.8k

tags: sunghoon is a fuckboy on campus but you don't know it. you accidentally send your nudes to jay instead of his brother sunghoon and well....WELL, sexting, actual fucking but it's alluded to, second-hand embarrassment. NOT PROOF READ.

"Just friends" only goes so far when you've been pining something fierce for the past three semesters for a very specific kind of dicking down.

By specific, you mean Sunghoon. You want Sunghoon to dick you down so fucking bad by this point that you think you're going crazy.

The thing is, you've been friends with him and his brother, Jay, since you started college. The three of you kind of clinged to each other because you at least recognized one another (from your hometown) on this vast campus that is filled with strangers and people already within respective groups.

The three of you made your own respective friend group.

Over the semesters, you never really thought about either of them in a sexual light until Sunghoon did something one day that ignited a little bit of something in you. Maybe it's the way he looked at you that night, all drunken and woozy with drooping eyes and your image melting you into his surroundings. Or maybe it's the way he didn't seem to mind that you walked in on that, witnessing him literally choke a girl out on his cock mid-party in an unlocked bathroom.

It's the way all three of you were gonna blow off this party and just hang out together again. It's the way all three of you ended up admitting that you low-key wanted to experience a college party every now and then. It's the way he refuses to talk about what you saw, but knows damn well you want to mock him for it.

Mocking him in a way that would make him talk about it. If only so you can ask why he looked at you like that, with his half-smirk and quick raise of the brows as if to fucking invite you to join.

You made a point not to tell Jay about this because you knew he'd never let Sunghoon live it down, and quite frankly, you want him to live it down. With you, specifically.

This leads to today. So long after you witnessed Sunghoon mid-sexual light, it was hard to see him the way you used to. The way he held her head down even when someone walked in...the way you saw a glimpse of him moaning, half-talking to her when you opened the door.

Is it so wrong that you feel Sunghoon, the shy, beloved, and sweet Sunghoon, has a bit of a mean streak if his dick is hard? Is it really, so fucking horrible for you to kinda, be like, you know, turned the fuck on by it?

It's gotten to the point that the few friends you do have outside of your little circle has gotten fucking sick of hearing about him.

"Just fucking send him a nude, god." One of your friends gripes with a roll of her eyes. "We're in college, he's probably down to fuck if you are!"

You roll your eyes right back at her, snarling a bit as you lean in closer, whispering now.

"He's like, my best friend. Don't you think it's weird that I can't stop thinking about the way he like...basically treated some girl's face like a pocket pussy?"

"No. The dude is hot, anyone would wanna partake in-"

"I can't just fucking roll up like 'Hey hoonie, nice cock, i think. I don't know, i couldn't see it because you had it buried into some girl and I really want to see what it looks like and also i really want you to do that to me just to see what it's like maybe hahahahha"

"You can literally do that." You friend says, fed up. "Again, just snap a nude to him and send it. Just immediately apologize and beg him not to look at it. Pretend it's an accident."

You stare at her, feeling your phone burn in your pocket at the idea.

"I'll text you and tell you what happens." You say suddenly, wiping your hands clean from the crumbs of your snack and walking away without another word.

You don't hear her, but your friend cheers you on with another roll of her eyes. She doesn't actually care because, well, it's Sunghoon. She's actually a little bit shocked that word hasn't gotten around to you. The dude is actually very, very well known with the ladies on campus.

Any lady.

All ladies.

Except you, apparently.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Mortified.

You are fucking mortified. Here you were, dressed in your best (absolutely nothing) with your fingers still grazing your clit as you stare in horror at your phone.

You really did that. You sent the fucking newly taken photo and immediately apologized. Hell, you even closed your phone for a minute out of anxiety that approaching Sunghoon this way was a bad idea...

You phone went off just a few seconds after you turned it off. Just a text from Jay, no biggie, probably just wondering what you're up to.

You were literally still playing with your clit when you opened his text without much care. He shouldn't find out you're making a move on Sunghoon anyway, right?

Well, yeah. He'll never find out because that fucking move you made wasn't on Sunghoon at all. The way your stomach flips upon opening his texts only to find that fucking picture of your open, wet, fingered pussy right there above your quick apology... and then right below that is Jay's texts reading:

Jay: was that really an accident?

Jay: figured you'd have called to tell me to not look at it if you actually were sorry

Jay: i'd know if you had someone to send something like that to anyway

Fuckkkkk why'd you have to be so bold to send something so graphic?! It's so out of character for you, even if you did send it to the right person to begin with. You really are going fucking crazy.

You: um...it was an accident, really...

Jay: you don't seem too apologetic for sending it to me

Jay: "sorry, that wasnt for you. pls delete lol"

Jay:....you sure it wasn't for me?

Jay: sounds like you meant to send that...

This is...embarrassing. Jay, fucking Jay of all people is stroking his fucking ego right now. Thinking this is for him, that you want him. Which, i mean, that's surprising because he acts so uninterested in sex when you're around him. Like you've never even seen him stare at a girl for too long or admit to you, or his brother, that he wants to start dating. Yet here he is??? Talking to you like this?

You don't even know how to respond to him when you get another text. A fucking image.

Of his cock.

That's Jay's cock on your phone. Right there. Jesus.

Jay: oops, lol, didn't mean to send that.

You pause, barely able to tear your eyes away from how fat that thing is before you respond in an annoyed, text-tone.

You: are you fucking mocking me?

Jay: depends, are you into that kind of thing?

What the fuck is happening right now? Is this really Jay? Is this how he acts? What is with you and your best friends ending up acting...so interesting when a pussy is around?

You: what's it to you?

Jay: you literally just showed me how deep your fingers can go in your pussy, it's everything to me right now

Why...did you just tingle? Why did your fucking clit throb at that? This is Jay. Then again, you had the same shock when you witnessed Sunghoon that night. Still, should you really play into this? Should you really lead Jay on out of pure arousal and curiosity and forget about your plan with Sunghoon?

You'd look so bad if Jay found out now that you plan to do the same shit to Sunghoon. Ugh, you feel like a total slut.

You: jay, it was an accident.

Jay: fuck off with that, no it wasnt. besides, i liked it. send more

You sigh, slapping yourself on the forehead out of pure embarrassment but god. Are you really about to do this? Are you really snapping more pictures right now?

Yeah. You fucking are. And you send them just as easily as you did the first time, allowing your clit to think for you at this moment rather than worry about the consequences of this.

Jay: fuck, i can't believe you're doing this right now, prettier than i imaged

Jay: jerked off to you so much last semester, was starting to think i need to find someone else to chase

Jay: [image attachment]

The whiplash you're getting right now. Jay...has been into you?! Since fucking when?!?! and, god, fuuuuck, why is he so big? Why is Sunghoon at the back of your mind right now? Why the fuck are you rubbing your clit harder for this?

Jay: well?

You: i feel weird about this

Jay: just give it a few, keep doing that, keep showing me.

And well, you do. Solely out of curiosity. You keep snapping pictures, showing him a personal timeline of how wet you're getting before you get another text from him. Finally, after about ten minutes of silence.

Jay: open your door

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Silence. Utter fucking silence as you lay next to Jay with his heavy limbs thrown over you. Despite the heaviness of your breathing paired with his, your ears are ringing.

How did he do that?!

When did he learn how to fuck like that?

What the actual fuck is happening?!

"Jay..." You half-whisper out to him, breath still struggling to balance out.

"Hm?" He hums back, his arms pulling you in, pressing your back to his chest as he ghosts his lips next to your ear. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just-" You decide not to tell him about how this was accidental. "I'm shocked, that's all."

For some reason, the laugh he lets out fills your heart. It's the same, genuine, laugh he lends to you when you do something clumsy. Never had you realized that it was an endearing laugh, one that pointed to the fact that he likes you.

And it's not that you don't like him. You love Jay so, so much. But this, this is something you don't know if you can come back from. Do you have feelings for him? Not really...you're just horny. Do you have feelings for Sunghoon? You can't say that you do. But this...meant something to Jay.

He can never find out that you'd never spared him a sexual glance or thought before this. You can't bring yourself to lose that laugh in your ear right now.

"So, you liked it?" He asks now, which only makes your heart rattle even more because of course he's seeking reassurance right now.

"Are you kidding?!" You try to play it off like a joke, trying not to attach yourself to the emotions he gives to you. "I came like three times Jay, holy shit."

You feel him shrug behind you, as if he's proud.

"What? You thought I couldn't do it?"

It's not that you never thought he could do it, it's just that...you've never thought about it all.

[slytherinslut0]

tom riddle. | everyone has their vices

summary: tom riddle tells you he jerks off (and more) to relieve stress. just….in typical tom fashion.

word count: 2k

tags: 18+, suggestive content, so much tension you’ll choke on it, frustrating subliminal tom riddle (though reader is just as stubborn), flirting, masturbation insinuation, make out sesh.

"But how?”

Tom inhaled sharply, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he prepared to reexplain for what felt like the hundredth time. "Because, the slightest distraction or doubt can result in consequence—as I said previous. A momentary lapse in any of the areas we covered will result in splinching."

You blinked, staring at him like he'd spoken an alternate language. The late night and the relentless focus on Tom's face for the past four hours had blurred everything into a haze and dulled his voice into a monotonous hum, blending with the soft rustle of parchment and the distant lapping of the lake against the window. He could see it—your disconnection, the way his words slipped past you like water through fingers.

He exhaled, slumping back in his chair, a hand raking through his dark hair in frustration. "Should we call it a night?"

"Probably," you muttered, your gaze drifting to the window behind him, the surface of the Black Lake rippling under the moonlight. "You've overloaded my brain. I stopped comprehending two hours ago."

You felt Tom's eyes narrow slightly as he studied you—you must have looked a mess. Strands of hair had fallen out of your ponytail, your uniform shirt was half undone, and there was a dullness in your eyes that spoke of more than just exhaustion. A week bedridden with the flu had set you back, and now, despite Tom's best efforts, you felt like you were drowning.

He knew you were stressed beyond measure—you were normally not like this.

"You need to relax," he said, the words landing with the flatness of an undisputed fact. "You won't retain anything in the state you're in."

"How can I relax when I'm two weeks behind? And exams are next week?" Your voice cracked with the weight of your frustration as you leaned your elbows on his desk, burying your face in your hands. "I'm helpless, Tom. I know you know it."

"Would I be sitting here wasting my time if I thought you were helpless?" He watched you, almost clinical in his intensity as he spoke—tone matter-of-factly, devoid of any false comfort. It cut through your despair with ease. Tom Riddle never did anything without purpose; if he was here, it meant he believed you were worth the effort. "My suggestion is that you reset your brain," he continued, his voice steady like his fingers as he shut the textbook between you. "Take a walk. Have a cold shower. Jump in the lake. Whatever you need to do to decompress."

The simplicity of his suggestions almost made you laugh, but it was the kind of laughter that would easily turn into tears if you let it. Tom had a way of stripping everything down to its most basic form—of cutting through your stress and chaos and presenting you with a simple, unvarnished answer.

You were a mess, and he was telling you to fix it—no coddling, no pity, just a clear-eyed assessment of the situation. And somehow, that was exactly what you needed to hear. You appreciated him for it.

"Decompress, huh. I don't believe I've ever done such a thing." You leaned back in your chair with a lopsided grin, arms crossed. "Is that what you do? Jump in the lake?"

Tom let out a huff, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in what was almost—almost—a smile.

"Something like that."

Interesting—Tom Riddle, always so composed, every inch of him meticulously put together, as if the mere idea of stress was a foreign concept. You couldn't imagine him spiralling, not the way you did—frankly, you couldn't imagine him ever feeling overwhelmed at all.

The curiosity gnawed at you, wondering what he did to unwind—what rituals or habits did the untouchable Tom Riddle indulge in when no one was watching?

"Something else, then?" You pushed it further, gently, your eyebrow arching just slightly.

For a moment, his gaze flickered, something dark and inscrutable passing behind his eyes. You knew he was considering your words, debating whether to indulge your curiosity or keep you at arm's length. Such a fascinating creature he was—all brick walls and boarded windows—you had a feeling he was going to shut this down.

Until, he leaned forward.

"If you're asking if I have habits—I suppose I do," he said, your eyes drawn to the way his lips moved, the way his voice curled around each syllable. "Habitual things I do to—relax, let's say."

You hummed and pulled your lower lip between your teeth as you considered him—fighting to hide your amusement. That was the biggest personal moment you've had out of Tom Riddle since the day you met him in first year where he told you his name.

"Well, isn't that a revelation," you teased, toying with the edge of your skirt. "Just the mere insinuation that Tom Riddle has to do something to relax—as though he's not always cool, calm, and collected like he lets on."

His lips curled slightly at your words, his gaze dipping briefly from your eyes to your mouth, trailing lower in a slow, deliberate sweep that brushed over your chest before landing back on the desk.

Your brain buffered, tingles in the wake of his wrath. He picked up his quill, spinning it idly between his fingers. 

"Everyone has their vices—if they don't, they end up like you," he said, his tone laced with an ambiguity that made you wonder just how deep his ran. "Perhaps it's time you found some."

You scoffed, leaning further back in your chair, the fabric of your shirt pulling tighter across your chest. You forced yourself to ignore the visceral reaction your body had as you caught the brief flicker in Tom’s gaze—the way his eyes darted up to the movement before he quickly masked his expression.

For a moment, you thought you might be imagining things, but the tensing of your thighs betrayed a reaction you couldn't quite shake.

"And what are yours?" You asked after a moment, your voice softer now. Tom Riddle was many things, but he was not a conversationalist—and yet here he was, indulging your curiosity instead of shutting it down. He was humouring you, and you intended to make the most of it. "Decompressing with bland tea and ancient tomes? Sneaking into the Restricted Section when no one's looking?"

“Mm, no.” Tom let out a snort, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips— "I’d say my vices are less...pedestrian, than all that."

The quill in his fingers stilled—the change in his demeanour was subtle, though you felt it in the air—electric, making your pulse quicken. He traced the edge of the feather with the tip of his thumb, the motion slow and deliberate, and you found yourself inexplicably distracted, fighting the urge to shift in your seat.

Why in Merlin's name was that so damn captivating?

"Less pedestrian?" You echoed, curiosity at an all-time-high. "What do you do, then, Tom? Dance naked by the light of the full moon?"

"I should hope not," he laughed—a low, rumbling sound that resonated in the pit of your stomach as you giggled alongside him. The quill twirled again in his fingers, the motion languid, almost hypnotic. "No, I'd say my vices are more...private. Less suited to polite company. Perhaps I should let you guess since the mystery of it seems to fascinate you so."

The look he gave you made you stiffen, a challenge—no, a dare—clear in his deep, dark eyes. Your thighs involuntarily reacted again—less suited to polite company?

"I believe I've already made several guesses," you tried to compose yourself with a shallow inhale. "I'm quite at a loss."

He shook his head, stifling his grin. "Clearly, you lack imagination."

"Clearly, you enjoy being cryptic." You shot back, unable to stifle yours.

At that, he hummed—it was obvious your stubbornness was as entertaining to him as it was aggravating. Perhaps you could say the same. He set the quill down, his eyes on yours as the fingers of his free hand began to tap idly on the desk—and then his gaze dipped again, tracing the curve of your lips before drifting lower, a slow, deliberate path that made you tense.

For a moment, you wondered if the tension in the air was all in your head. Was he always this adventurous with his eyes?

"When the mind is under strain," he began, his voice smooth, clinical, "it's a result of an excessive influx of neural signals. Synapses misfire, disrupting cognitive function. A basic physiological response." He watched your reaction closely, as though gauging the impact of his words. "To address such a state, one must reestablish control over these neural pathways. To be direct, I find the most efficacious methods involve tasks that stimulate the senses without being emotionally or physically taxing. A simple, repetitive action can suffice—something arbitrary enough to encourage the subconscious to lose focus."

You fought the urge to scowl at his change in speech—Tom knew damn-well just how overwhelmed your brain was—and then continued to recite scientific jargon as if it were his full-time occupation.

You’d almost be mad if it weren’t for the fucking words that stuck to the inside of your ears—stimulate, repetitive, lose focus—

"You're a walking textbook, aren't you?" You continued to play it off—you didn't want to make assumptions—you hated the way he danced around the edges of things, never quite saying what he meant. "Be specific."

Tom's grin grew as he leaned in slightly, his fingers stilling on the desk between you. "I find tasks that involve the hands particularly useful. Something that can be repeated in a smooth, steady rhythm, with little conscious thought required. The ability to lose oneself in the pattern is key."

Merlin help you—the atmosphere in his dorm had changed with those words; the air turned viscous, cloying, each breath sticking in your throat like syrup—hands, steady rhythm, lose oneself—the words pulsed with implication, even if it was buried under layers of his typical, infuriating ambiguity.

He was absolutely referring to—no—no assumptions—

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. "So...knitting?"

The words tumbled out, a weak attempt at humour to cut through the tension, but they hung lifeless in the air—as hollow as the chuckle that rumbled from Tom's chest.

His eyes traced over you, lingering in a way that made your skin prickle. "Not exactly."

"Hm. A different kind of needlecraft, perhaps." You shifted in your seat, trying to inject a semblance of nonchalance into your posture.

But you weren't fooling him—you never had—

"How much longer are you going to play coy?" He murmured, the amusement clear from light-years away.

Heat surged up your neck, the flush burning across your cheeks, betraying you—"how much longer are you going to continue holding your tongue?"

Your voice came out sharper than intended, laced with a challenge you barely felt capable of meeting. You and Tom had always been cordial, the slight suggestive comment here and there, mostly from your end. But this—oh, this was different—this was uncharted territory.

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr. "Would you prefer I do something else with it?"

Oh, fuck yes you would—

"You're being obtuse," you practically choked out, though the words lacked the bite you intended. "Entirely vague."

"I'm being clear," he countered, his gaze never wavering. "But you're being obstinate—willfully ignorant to my meaning because you refuse to acknowledge it without me saying it outright."

The air between you dissipated—you tried to grasp for a coherent thought, something to regain your footing, but your mind faltered, stumbling over the implications of what he was saying. His eyes never left yours—and you watched them deepen in colour, black pupils eating away the rich brown of his irises, darkening with something that made the room feel unbearably small.

You could feel the heat rising in your body, pooling low in your belly. How did he do this to you? How did he turn you inside out with nothing more than words and that infuriating, knowing smile?

"Tell me," you breathed, hating how desperate the words sounded, "what do you do with your hands, Tom?...how do you use them to relieve...stress?"

The second those words left your lips you realized what was truly happening here—Tom Riddle never did anything without intent—every word, every pause, every smirk, was a thread in a web he was weaving, intricate and inescapable. He'd led you here, gently, subtly, with the barest hint of force, and now that you were caught, you realized that you wanted this.

Needed it.

And it was clear he did too. Otherwise you'd never have gotten to this point—he wanted you to push, to dig deeper—your stomach twisting as you watched Tom wet his lips, but there was no smirk on them this time.

Only something intense—jaw set, eyes focused—

"I think we both know what I do with my hands," he whispered, the double entendre clear in every syllable— "you knew exactly what I was insinuating the moment this started."

Your breath snagged in your throat, a tremor running through your entire body as the warmth pooling in your belly began to spread, sinking lower, threading through every nerve. Your vision narrowed, centering entirely on him—his eyes, the curve of his lips, the way his presence seemed to devour the room, leaving no space for anything else.

And then, you nodded, the movement barely there—a subtle acknowledgment of your understanding.

"Do you touch yourself, Tom?..." the words escaped you, a soft, breathy whisper that you could hardly believe were your own. "Or do you touch someone else?"

For a heartbeat, everything seemed to freeze, suspended in the intensity of those questions.

The world narrowed to the point of his gaze, the sharp line of his jaw—the reality of where you were, what you were doing, almost seemed to blur—trapping you both in a moment that felt surreal, like a scene caught in the still frame of a film. Never—never—had you imagined a conversation like this with Tom Riddle, hardly your acquaintance, the untouchable genius of the school.

And yet here you were, heart pounding, every nerve on fire, and Merlin help you, you were going to wring every drop of this out for as long as you could.

He swallowed, and you watched the movement, entranced. "Depends on my level of stress."

Tom's expression was unreadable—except for the subtle tension in his shoulders as he leaned back, spreading his legs a fraction wider, the fabric of his dress shirt straining against the flex of his biceps—

"...and how stressed are you right now?" You whispered, reckless, without a trace of restraint.

Tom's throat bobbed with another swallow, a gesture so simple yet so charged that it sent your pulse roaring in your ears.

"Quite," he murmured, his voice taut, stretched thin. "The past four hours have been rather taxing—wouldn't you agree?”

A nervous laugh bubbled up, escaping before you could stop it. You tried to steady yourself, drawing in a slow, shaky breath. You had never felt so intensely aroused and frustrated in your life, and you knew, without a bloody doubt, that he was perfectly aware of it.

"Are you trying to imply l'm the cause of your stress?"

"On the contrary," he said, his gaze raking over you, his eyes dark and hungry, as if you were something to be consumed, devoured whole. "I'm saying you've exacerbated it. Though I'll concede a fair share of the responsibility—as it is mine, after all."

"How kind of you," you whispered, voice trembling with the effort to maintain composure. "To admit your own fault in the matter."

"I'm a kind man." His voice was a low purr, the kind that seeped into your bones, making your blood thrum with anticipation. "I like to take responsibility for my shortcomings."

Yes, yes—so very kind—

"Then take it."

The words left your mouth before you could second-guess them, a challenge thrown into the thick, suffocating air between you. The tension was a living thing now, colled tight, ready to snap, turning your insides into a churning mess of want and need.

Tom arched an eyebrow.

"Take it?" He echoed. "And what exactly do you want me to take, sweetheart?"

Sweetheart.

The pet name rolled off his tongue with a casual ease that sent a flush of heat straight to your core— the simple word wielded like a weapon, striking you down with its intimacy. There was no denying the power that name held over you, especially when coming from his lips.

"The responsibility..." you whispered, the words trembling as they left you, barely more than a breath. "…for your..." you hesitated, your eyes locked onto his as you finally said, "…shortcomings."

For a moment, everything hung in the balance—until, oxygen extinct, Tom leaned forward, closing the space between you until he was so close you could feel the heat radiating off him, mingling with your own.

Curse this fucking desk between you.

"My shortcomings," he repeated, his eyes flicking to your lips. "Is that all I should take responsibility for?"

"Are you suggesting..." you leaned in as well, the distance between you shrinking to a breath—your gaze drawn to his own mouth—the plush of it, how bad you wanted to feel it against yours, "...there's something else you wish to take responsibility for?"

Said mouth curled into the faintest hint of a smile and witnessing the shift this close felt dangerously religious—as though you'd experienced something sacred not many have before—part of you knew you did.

"Many things," he whispered, the sound soft as velvet, dangerous as a blade. "The list is long and varied..."

The heat in your body was painful—you had never been this close to him, never felt the full weight of his presence bearing down on you like this. His cologne—faint, rich, and so distinctly Tom—overwhelmed you, the same scent he'd worn since you first met him.

It was infuriating, how everything he did was so subtle, simple—yet so fucking intoxicating, so irresistible.

"...I'm not quite sure where to start." His eyes flicked back to yours.

Every word that fell from his lips was a new form of torture, his dark eyes pinning you in place, searing into you. The heat radiating from his body made you want to retreat, to find air, to find space—but the thought of putting any distance between you was unbearable, the need to be near him overriding everything else.

You'd rather lose consciousness than pull back.

"Why don't you start..." you whispered, tilting your head, your teeth grazing your bottom lip. "By fixing the insatiable ache in my curiosity...the one you created when you mentioned how you use your hands...to relieve stress..."

He exhaled, the sound rumbling from his chest like a growl and you could almost imagine that if he parted his lips, you'd glimpse fangs behind them right now—you'd never seen him like this—his gaze predatory, fucking ravenous, and it was as though he could devour you whole if he so chose to.

But you knew better. Tom Riddle would never be so crude. His methods of torment were deliberate—Methodical. A slow depletion of your senses until you're gasping for something only he can give you.

Then, in a voice that was all gravel and silk, he whispered, "is that all that's aching...your...curiosity?"

"Gods no—"

But you never finished that thought—because in an instant, his hand was tangled in your hair, pulling you forward with a force that sent you careening over the desk and into him—Tom Riddles lips crashed against yours, and it was like drowning, his tongue invading your mouth, stealing your breath and dragging all ounces of your cognitive ability along with it.

You were half out of your chair, caught in the gravity of him, unsure if your legs were even working, or if it was his grip alone that held you upright. His free hand found your wrist, pinning it to the desk as his mouth worked you with a fervour that made your head spin. The kiss was incendiary, a wildfire scorching its way through every nerve in your body, leaving nothing but ashes in its wake—the intensity of it, the sheer, unrelenting pressure of his lips on yours, made you wonder how you survived this long without it.

All the heat in your blood pooled low, deep between your thighs, an ache so profound it threatened to consume you. Tom Riddle was about to show you precisely how he used his hands to relieve stress, and Gods, if that wasn’t the only thing you’d ever needed right now.

[zg0nuwa]

𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 ; “𝐝𝐮𝐦𝐛 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬”

had this silly little thought where you ask miguel a bunch of questions about the multiverse

miguel o’hara x gn!reader

warnings ; this is stupid, miguel is confused, mentions of pregnancy/having a kid, my spanish knowledge is below zero so i used google (feel free to correct me)

“ what did you just ask me? ”

“ i asked what would happen if two people - ” you were pestering miguel with questions about the multiverse for the past hour or so. at first it was a basic conversation regarding what were canon events and how are they established, how the portals work and all the other boring stuff.

“ i heard you the first time. just- where did you get that question from? ”

“ don’t tell me you’ve never wondered how it would work if for example we were to have a kid. like, we’re from different universes. i’m just curious what would happen to the kid in this predicament. ” if you were anybody else he would probably just glare at you and go on with his work but due to your position in his heart he just stood there, absolutely mortified at the example you just provided.

in all honesty you weren’t even that much into the topic but being able to bother miguel just a little and watch him scrunch up his nose whenever you mentioned something that would probably classify you as mentally deranged was your favorite hobby.

“ dios por favor dame fuerza*. no, actually i’ve never thought about that. also that example was really uncalled for. ” he thanked his past self for making the office so dimly lit. if it was any brighter in here he’s 97% sure you would be able to see how his neck and ears go all red.

“ so you admit you don’t know what would happen? ”

“ sí, ahora ¿podemos cambiar el tema?* ”

“ okay, okay… there’s actually one more thing i was curious about. ” miguel only sighed and looked at you with an unimpressed expression.

“ should i be scared? ” at this point he had no idea what to expect, in fact he kinda expected anything. and his imagination was not helping him. you looked up at him with those big pleading eyes that at the same time were full of mischief.

“ if, for example, we were to start dating, would that make me you know… kind of a pedophile..? ” there was an awkward silence and the look he had was to be described only with the sentence “what the fuck”

“ what on god’s green earth are you talking about? ”

“ i mean, you’re from year 2099 right? and im from 2023 in my universe. so that would kind of suggest that technically i would be in my 40s or 50s when you were born right? that just… kind of weird to think about i guess? ”

that, he did not expect in any of his wildest scenarios.

“ i’m going to lose my fucking mind. ” he slumped forward hiding his face in his hands.

“ aw come on miguel! it’s a genuine problem i’m thinking about here! ”

* god please give me strength

* yes, now can we change the subject?

[changisworld]

“Why do you make me feel like this, pretty?”

fuckboy!hyunjin x reader

Word count; 5,902

Summary: After hyunjin took your virginity, you grew attached despite trying your hardest not to. You find out he hooked up with someone the day after it happened which broke your heart, making you cry.. but of course, hyunjin caught you crying. He didn’t really know what he felt, it being new to him, as he tries to refuse the silly ideas popping into his brain, he can’t ignore how much you being upset is making his heart.. hurt?? Surely he doesn’t like you too..?

18+ ONLY, MDNI, SMUT UNDER THE CUT.

©ANY translation, copy & paste, posting of my work is strictly forbidden for ANY posts/ writing i post.

main masterlist here

part 3 here

**This can be read on its own despite it probably being confusing but i highly recommend reading part 1!**

SMUT WARNINGS: spit/drool, PIV, needy reader, pet names, shyish reader, rimming( f rec), oral ( f rec), fingering (f rec), finger sucking, unprotected sex, jealous jinnie, edging???,pull out method, literally 1 spank, slight dacryphilia, jealous jinnie, soft jinnie, kind jinnie, hyunjins a tease obvs, slight aftercare, wayyy fluffier ending than last time you're welcome!!

You & Hyunjin walk off campus, you still hiding your face from him, embarrassed at the tears now staining your cheeks, your face tinged red, you also don't fail to miss the looks you & Hyunjin are receiving from other students walking past the both of you, his arm still around you & you can't help but feel judged, so you push his arm off.

"Forget the cafe, I'm just gonna go home, I feel.. sick. I'll see you later Hyunjin." you murmur, still not looking at him in the eye.

"Y/n stop being weird, just cmon. I promise to cheer you up." He replies back, reaching out to cup your cheek but you move your head before murmuring a quick 'bye' before walking away from him hastily, leaving him standing there, confused & a bit annoyed.

He watches as you turn the corner & he huffs before kicking a stone nearby. 'Why do I care she's actually upset? 'What did I do wrong?' 'I hope she's okay' & 'Shit how can I apologise' are all thoughts that race through his head, no matter how much he tries to shake it all off, he genuinely feels guilty. But why? He never feels sorry for the girls he fucks n chucks, so what makes it different? He barely even knows you? He only spoke to you for a week which is barely anything. He sighs before pulling out his phone & going onto his contacts, about to call Joy, another one of his side things, before deciding against it, instead calling his friend Jisung& asking to meet him.

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Twenty minutes later Jisung meets him at the local dog walking park & they end up sitting on a bench, talking about random stuff before the topic of you comes up, but not because of Hyunjin.

“You’re lucky you got to partner up with y/n for that assignment, I got put with Changbin so obviously i fucking failed, tryna do that presentation on the spot was absolute torture, you still talk to her? she seems quiet as hell.” Han sighs, sipping his bubble tea through his straw & Hyunjin laughs.

“Ay! I actually helped her so shut up, just because you both have no more than eight brain cells, i’m just proof there is such a thing as looks & beauty. Nah, we haven’t really spoken since, just been busy i suppose & what the hell am i meant to say to her?” Hyunjin replies, a quick chuckle leaving his lips.

“What do you mean you’re proof that looks n beauty exist, y/n basically invented it you idiot. Wha'cha mean what are you meant to say to her? Did you fuck her too or something?" Han questions, leaning forward.

Hyunjin just kisses his teeth before nodding & Han just raises his eyebrows. "fuck, I didn't think someone like y/n would get around that way. Can you do me a favour n start speaking to her again n put in a good word about me I wanna approach her but she feels intimidating, you get me?" Once Hyunjin hears these words, a bad & gross feeling bubbles up in his stomach.. is what he feeling... jealousy?

"Uhh.. you're really not her type, she's not up for dating, she told me. Go try your luck with someone else." Hyunjin says in a bitter tone, not looking at the man in front of him & Han scoffs.

"You chat shit Hyunjin, stop gatekeeping! I'll just use my charms & trust me, we'll be fucking a week later n dating two weeks later." Jisung jokes, patting Hyunjins leg but he pushes it off.

"You're ridiculous Jisung, she won't want what's between your legs." Hyunjin spits out before standing up off the bench, stretching out & sighing. "I have things to do, you can keep day dreaming, I'll see you later. choke on your boba." Hyunjin jokes with Han & he spits out a bubble as a response before he walks away, leaving Han on the bench.

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He walks through the rest of the park, thinking about Hans words & he can't get over it. 'Why am I so jealous?' 'Who does he honestly think he is talking about y/n like that?' 'They wouldn't even look good together.' are things that keep racing through his head & he is getting more pissed off as the seconds go by.

He gets out of the park & he keeps walking on the pavement, not having an actual destination in mind.. until he seen you walking out of a random convenience store across the street & a lightbulb lights up behind his brown eyes.

He picks up the pace of his walk as he follows just far enough behind you on the other side of the road until you reach your apartment complex before entering & he can't help but feel like an absolute creep, but that doesn't stop him. He screenshots his location on find my Iphone, just so he won't forget where to go later on as he walks back the way he came, heading to the main line of shops near the campus.

He strolls around for around twenty minutes, looking at random little trinkets, bookmarks with the college logo on it, which he cringes at due to the look of it, before he keeps walking until he reaches a little florist shop.

He enters it, aimlessly walking around, fingertips grazing over a few roses & tulips, admiring the pretty colours as he sets his eyes on a bouquet of lillies. He picks it up, giving himself a better look at it before deciding he is happy with it, heading to the counter.

He places them down, not paying attention to the cashier as he looks at the little vases beside the register.

"Can I get this pink vase to- ohh, I didn't know you worked here Jennie, hiya." he says, surprised. "Sure. You know, Lisa doesn't like lillies, I suggest you get her daffodils, her favourite colour being yellow n all." she responds, smiling up at him. "Ah, they.. they're not for Lisa so I'll pass. Can you fill up the vase with a bit of water too? I think that's what you're supposed to do, right?" he says quickly, hand coming up to the back of his neck, the awkwardness filling the small space.

"mhmm. £29.11 is the total." She says in a cold voice, taking the tag off the vase as she turns around to the small sink, filling up the vase 1/3 of the way. She dumps the bouquet in the vase with no care at all before pushing it towards him, giving him the card machine. He pays, a strained, awkward smile on his face before saying thank you & leaving.

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After buying you a box of chocolates & a Vanilla bean smelling candle & following the path you walked on earlier, he ends up back outside your apartment complex.

He sits on the front steps, waiting for someone to leave the building so he can catch the door & once he is inside, he begins knocking on every door, talking to each person who answers in a quiet voice, Ignoring the confused looks of other students who recognise him who are all definitely wondering why he is knocking doors looking for you, making sure you wouldn't hear him & then refuse to open the door.

He reaches the fourth floor, mouth slightly dry from all the talking he has had to do & he is beginning to doubt his memory. He knocks on the third door & takes a step back, waiting for an answer as he hears footsteps & he can't help the smile that spreads across his face as you are the one who open the door.

"Surprise, & I'm not just talking about my pretty face. Can I come in?" he chirps as he raises his arms, making sure you see what he has brought despite it being almost all you can see, not missing the chance to give you an up & down look, you wearing black tight shorts & an oversized off the shoulder graphic shirt.

"Hyunjin, I told you I was sick.. How the hell do you know where I live?" you question, honestly just confused. "Does that matter? I asked a question, Don't leave me standing here I went to like twenty doors to find you!" he pouts. You roll your eyes & begin to shut the door but Hyunjin stops it with his foot.

"Okay okay okay! I followed you, but not in a creepy way I swear! I just wanted to.. apologise? But I knew you would ghost me If I text you." he says in a sulky voice. You groan before opening the door back open, his pretty face poking through the gap. "You are a creep, you know that? Why you apologising?" you question him, crossing your arms, not amused but slightly flattered despite not showing it.

"I'm not going to broadcast my deep, heart warming words in the corridor for everyone to hear, just let me inside, pleaseee." he pouts again & you just sigh before moving out of the way so he can enter, taking his shoes off as soon as they touch your laminate flooring.

You walk into your connected living room & kitchen before sitting on your corner kitchen counter, your legs swinging off it as Hyunjin follows behind you, looking around at the cute random decorations hung up on your walls & on the mantle pieces.

He places the flowers on your coffee table before walking back into your small kitchen & leaning on the opposite counter top, still holding the chocolates & candle.

"Okay, Can I give you my apology now? I rehearsed this to make sure I get everything right." He tries to joke but you just look at him with a blank expression before nodding, encouraging him to continue. "Okay, I didn't realise how much I've upset you & I'm sorry for not trying to check up on you sooner & stopped speaking to you. I partially didn't even mean to ghost you but I also genuinely thought you wouldn't speak to me anymore since you're always so concentrated on lessons & studying, I thought you would have thought I was getting in your way. I'm also sorry for fucking with that girl & you overheard it, if I'm genuinely being honest, I did it to try wipe my mind of you. I know what we did is a huge thing & it was wrong of me to have acted the way I did, if i'm being honest, this was the first time I did what we did so I just didn't really know how to act, but I'm genuinely sorry y/n. Chocolates?"

He blurts out, not taking his eyes off you as he feels his cheeks go hot, the nerves & also the way you're looking at him making him flustered. You both sit in silence for a minute, him waiting for a response & you thinking of a response.

"Gimme the box & light the candle for me, second drawer to your right n you will find a lighter. If you felt like this all week, You've still had seven days to come n tell me this but instead you've let me feel like shit for a week, this was the exact reason I was unsure to do it with you Hyunjin, in fear something like this would have happened & instead of just growing a pair & talking to me, you fuck someone else to just try forget?" You reply, your voice getting a bit shaky without meaning it, the feelings of it all hitting you again.

Hyunjin listens as he digs into his pocket & pulling out his own lighter & lighting it before putting it on the counter & he walks the few steps over to you, handing you the chocolate before standing right in front of you, leaning his hands on the counter on the outside of your legs, caging you in.

"Please y/n, don't think like that. I know I should have swallowed my pride n apologised earlier, I was just trying to convince myself I didn't give a fuck but I do, hence why I'm here. I honestly think you used those crystals & manifested this or something." he mumbles the last part, looking away from you, his ears going red after hearing his words out loud & your legs stop swinging as you pause at his words.

"What do you mean you actually give a fuck? What are you trying to say." you reply back, resisting the urge to reach out & stroke his hair. Hyunjin sighs & shakes his head. "Don't make me spit it out y/n, It's just gonna sound like a lie to you." You get an anxious feeling in your belly before taking his chin & guiding him to look back up at you. "Hyunjin, just say it, it's only me here anyway. Just say what you gotta say." you respond in a quiet but firm voice, honestly scared.

He doesn't have much option but to look at you as he lets himself melt into your hand lightly before taking a deep breath. "I.. care about you? I don't know, it feels weird but like... I genuinely felt like shit after how I treated you n i've tried to bury it but it just won't leave, I don't really know what it is about you n honestly it scares me." he says in a quiet, quick tone & your jaw drops.

You just freeze as you both just look at each other in complete silence not including the quiet crackling of the candle & your living room clock ticking. Hyunjin can't bare the awkwardness anymore as he gets shy for the first time in years, moving his arms to stand completely upright but you pull him in by the shirt to hug him, tears threatening to leave your eyes as his arms wrap around you in return.

"This better not be some sort of sick joke Hyunjin or i swear I'll kill you, you're gonna boost my ego to a fraction of what yours is." you half laugh as he nuzzles his face into your neck, inhaling your sweet smell. "It's not, dead serious. You're just different n I don't know how to feel about it, stop casting spells to make me attached to you. I've been itching to ask to see you all week, I wish I wasn't being so stubborn." he muffles into your neck, moving his head side to side slightly, his nose tickling your neck, making you lean more into him, chuckling at his stupid joke.

"Stop with the silly magic jokes, you're ridiculous. I want to say you're not forgiven since you need to prove to me you're not talking out your ass but I do accept your indeed heart warming apology & I appreciate it just more than the flowers n chocolate." you say in a soft voice & you feel Hyunjin smile against your neck before he moves & kisses the tip of your nose, smiling like a Cheshire cat.

"That's what I wanted to hear, I wouldn't be able to handle it if you had told me to fuck off, my first ever rejection coming from the first person I've ever bought a present for that isn't my mom." You chuckle at this before hopping off the counter, grabbing the box of chocolates that were staring at you.

"Rejection? You tryna say you like meee?" you tease, taking his hands before swaying them back & forth & he rolls his eyes, chuckling. "Was it not kinda obvious? I wanted to say it without directly saying it in case I embarrassed myself but... yeahhh I have a tiny crush, I think you made us soul tied or something." you just 'tut' at his remark but your face goes bright red at his confession, cheeks hurting from how much you're smiling.

"I'm touched. Got thee famous playboy hwang Hyunjin to like like me, not sure if it's a surprise but I like you too." You kiss his cheek before leading him to the couch as you sit on it, him flopping next to you. "Enough of the soppy talk for now or I'll get embarrassed, you can choose a movie while I get us a blanket." He just nods & you hand him the box of chocolates & he begins opening them as you scurry to your room to get your favourite fluffy blankets.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･:༅｡.｡༅:ﾟ::✼✿　　✿✼:ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

You both end up watching a recommended Netflix romcom suggestion, both of you devouring your chocolates but you pay no mind to it.

Some point throughout, your legs end up swung over his as your head lays against his shoulder, him stroking your hair with one hand as the other hand caresses your thigh.

Every few minutes or so, you focus less on the movie & more on his touch as his hand slowly rises up your leg, then your thigh & his hand is now grazing against your inner thigh over your tight shorts, giving you goosebumps, which he doesn't miss.

This continues up until Hyunjin repositions himself, pushing your legs off him so he can lay down over your thighs, his view now sideways of the TV, not that he cares, not paying the slightest bit of attention anyway as you momentarily tense up beneath him.

You continue stroking his hair, sometimes digging your fingers into his scalp a bit to scratch it, making him let out a satisfied hum. You can't help but keep looking down at the beautiful man laying on you & you can't help but smile to yourself.

As if he can feel your eyes burning into his skull, he moves the blanket down your legs enough to expose your legs enough for him to begin planting little pecks on them, slightly tickilish but you don't miss the wetness now pooling under your shorts. "Stop teasing Hyune." you speak up, your voice quiet & he just chuckles.

"If you don't want me to tease, I won't complain if you lay back." he replies, not bothering to look up at you as his hand reaches to squeeze your thigh softly as he keeps giving your legs kisses, suckling at them slightly,

You think about what he says & you would be stupid to deny the chance, your pussy clenching around nothing. You lightly push his head up off you & he takes the hint, moving & you push the side of his arm, towards the edge of the couch & he looks at you slightly confused but does what he thinks you're hinting at, getting onto the floor right in front of you, looking up at you with his pretty eyes.

You give him a shy smile before you take it upon yourself to wriggle your shorts & underwear off, leaving your bottom half completely nude, biting your lip in anticipation.

"You really got this desperate since last time I saw you?" he teases & you put your hand in front of your cunt, covering it with how shy you've just started feeling but he is quick to pull it back off, looking at the small shimmer on your middle finger before licking it off in one go.

"Don't be shy, gorgeous. I've been just as desperate if not more, can I get a taste?" he says in a sweet voice, not looking away from you, stars in his eyes. "Please.. If you want to." you respond, hiding your face in your hands but he reaches up & swats your hands away yet again as his other hand begins to slowly drag through your folds, making your hips buck.

"Stop hiding, where's your confidence gone hmm? Do I make you that nervous? trust me, there's nothing I want more." he leans in & kisses right next to your lip before smirking at you & sinking back down onto the floor, blowing cold air onto your now soaking cunt, making your legs tense up & he tongues his cheek as he watches your face twitch.

He spreads your folds open, getting a better view of your hole, clenching around nothing before he licks a long, slow strip from your hole to the top of your clit, letting out a low groan in the process. "Taste better than anything y/n, I fucking swear." he says as he looks up at you for a split second. "eyes on me, if you look away I'll stop." he voices before digging in.

You do as he says & make eye contact with him as his mouth latches onto your cunt as he begins letting spit roll off his tongue, mixing with your juices just before slurping it back up, not afraid to make as much noise as the mixes of juices allow.

You weave your hand in his hair & play with his hair & scratch his scalp for him as he suctions his tongue onto your swollen button, both of you groaning at the same time.

"Hyune, so good" you whimper out, your breath shaky as your eyes struggle to stay open & you feel Hyunjin smile against you. He brings his fingers up to your clit before rubbing it in a steady rhythm as he lets go of before his tongue find its way into your opening before beginning to tongue fuck you & you throw your head back, your moans now louder than the TV still playing behind the both of you, your legs now closing around his head, not that he pays attention to that anyway, if anything he is enjoying it.

You begin to clench around his tongue which he remembers is your tell tail sign you're about to orgasm, your moans getting higher pitched & your grip on his hair getting tighter & he chooses to worm his tongue out of your hole before pinching your clit between his two fingers & dropping a glob of spit to it before giving it one more lick, smirking.

"I wanna try something I think you might like, turn over so you're facing your back to me, hunny." You huff at the beginning of a future orgasm beginning to appear suddenly bubbling away but you do as he says, slightly confused.

You get up on your knees & rest your elbows on the back of the couch, you now looking at the wall behind you. "Why am I fac-" you're cut off as Hyunjin spreads your cheeks & begins fondling them as he begins suckling on your pussy from behind, letting out a satisfied hum behind you as you begin kneading the couch until your fingers begin to ache, biting your lip to try hold back moans.

"G-gonna cum Hyunjin, keep g-going." you whimper, pushing yourself into his face, seeking even more from him if it's even possible & he gives you a quick slap on your ass as he removes himself from your cunt again, much to his own displeasure.

"Don't bite your lip y/nnie, I wanna hear you fully, Mkay?" he speaks from behind you as you yelp at the impact & he hums as he keeps kneading your ass, giving it a few kisses. "Your ass is to die for, you know that? Gonna taste it." Before you can even process what he says, your mind too full of lust to understand, he is letting a glob of spit fall past his lips & it landing right on your tightest hole.

You try jerk your hips away from him but he is quicker & pulls you back to him, keeping a tighter grip on your ass, keeping it spread as his tongue begins to graze over your pretty pucker, his eyes scrunching together as he smiles against you, tongue now drawing patterns on it as he lets go of one of your ass cheeks, going down to your leaking cunt again before entering two fingers, instantly finding the same G-spot that made you orgasm only a week or so ago.

Your hips buck at the new sensation & you let out a long mewl, letting your face fall onto the back of the couch as your knuckles turn white from how hard you're clenching on it.

Your pretty hole is clenching & pulsating on his tongue as he lets out a deep growl at your taste, so different compared to your cunt but still enjoyable, you're moans getting to an even higher pitch as his tongue enter inside you, swirling around as much as the tight ring will allow.

"Hyun- please l-let me cum, s-so- fuck!" you basically scream out, not even being able to find the strength to lift your head up to look at the man behind you as your pussy & ass clench around his fingers & tongue but right before you cum, Hyunjin pulls completely away, again & your legs shake from the painful pleasure of yet another stolen orgasm.

Hyunjin leans over so his clothed chest is touching your back & he tilts your head so he can see your pretty face & he sees your now tear soaked cheeks & your pretty, glossy eyes.

"Awww, pretty girl couldn't contain their tears, could you? I promise you can cum now, I don't have a condom on me though beautiful so do you just want my fingers hmm? or my tongue?" he questions as he strokes your now damp hair out of your face, pouting at you.

"J-just fuck me Hyune, j-just pull out." you whiimper back to him, your breath so unstable it's difficult to even push the words out. Hyunjin opens his mouth to re ask you, just to make sure he is hearing things right but you wiggle your naked ass against him & he bucks his hips before just nodding before kissing your shoulder & then shimmying his pants & underwear down, freeing his pretty cock.

He spits onto his cock, pumping it into his hand a few times, letting out a hushed groan before he aligns his tip with your pussy, rubbing himself against it a few times to coat his tip in your juices before prodding his tip against your hole, before pushing just the tip inside.

"I'm still gonna be gentle, it's only your second time, tell me if this position is uncomfortable." he speaks behind you & as you mumble out an 'okay' while your face now being mushed against the cushion again, he pushes his hips forward very slowly until he buries himself to the hilt, you both letting out a moan in unison.

He stills inside you, trying to not cum instantly from how hot your walls feel without the restriction of the condom he wore last time, his hands coming to rest on your hips as he waits for your signal to continue.

Your breath staggers as he pushes forward, the stretch being a bit painful but no way near as painful as last time & after a minute or so, you push yourself on his cock experimentally, making you both hiss.

"You- please move, mak-make me cum Hyune, p-please." you elongate the last word, turning your head to the side so he can actually hear you. He takes a deep breath & pulls out half way before pushing back in, the both of you letting out a whine as his balls slap against your clit, making it even more intense for you.

Hyunjin sets a steady rhythm, lightly using the tips of his finger nails to add sensation to your back, tickling it but also feeling nice as you know it will leave those pretty little red marks later on. Both of your moans & whines fill the small apartment, not even thinking about how your neighbours can one hundred percent hear you.

"Y/n yo-you're too tight, s-so warm." he breathes out, lifting his leg & standing it on the couch for a better angle as he keeps rutting into you, leaning over your back again to kiss your cheek, your moans going straight into his ears.

"To- so big hy-hyune, pleas-e lemme c-cum." you whimper, your eyes scrunching closed, the ends of Hyunjins hair tickling your face as he begins to nibble on your earlobe, your cunt clenching impossibly tight around his cock, almost suffocating it.

"c-cum with me baby, h-hold on for me." he groan back as he tilts his neck into an uncomfortable position just so he can kiss your lips. His tongue instantly enters your mouth & you suckle on it, tasting the remaining taste of your juices from what he hasn't already repeatedly swallowed, making you moan in content.

Hyunjin speeds up his pace slightly & your G-spot loves this, making your legs almost give out on the spot as your brain turns into mush. "I-in my s-stomach Hyun-deep." you babble out against his lips, barely even knowing your own name at this point.

As Hyunjin stands back upright after giving your shoulder a few pecks, his phone begins to ring. Your eyes spot his phone on the other end of the couch, where he was sitting earlier but he reaches over & declines it before shutting his phone completely off, throwing it to the side, his pace not slowing once.

You don't bother questioning it, instead focusing on the noises of your slick & his balls connecting together mixed with the sweat of the both of you, sloppy clapping noises of your skin connecting filling the room, your legs begin to give out as Hyunjin worms his fingers down to your clit yet again before rubbing it frantically.

"In your s-stomach hmm? You can cum for me angel, n-not gonna last, too w-wet n tight." he squabbles, breathing frantically & this i all you need to hear as your entire body tenses up as finally, your orgasm hits you like a brick wall & you let out a squeal & Hyunjin has to grip onto your hips as his life depend on it in order for you to not flop & slip off the couch.

Your noises & the way your pussy flutters around him is just too much for him to handle & as much as he doesn't want to, he pulls himself out of your wet, hot walls as his cum spurts down your ass & back, throwing his head back as his cock quite literally pulsates as his balls empty, a high pitched whimper leaving his lips, breathing staggered.

He comes back to his body quicker than you do & he helps reposition you so you're fully laying on the couch, trying to make sure his cum doesn't get onto any other surface.

He grabs his underwear & wipes the cum off your back in a comfortable silence, slightly twitching as he wipes it off. He leans over your back again before kissing your earlobe. "Did so well, so proud of you, still so pretty for me despite being sticky with sweat." you both weakly laugh as you turn onto your back before using the ounce of strength you have left to pull on his wrist.

"cuddle." is all you say as you pull on him until he lays on top of you, half his weight dangling off the arm of the couch as he lays his head on your chest, listening to your still racing heartbeat & he can't help but feel secure.

⭑･ﾟﾟ･:༅｡.｡༅:ﾟ::✼✿　　✿✼:ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

You both sit like this for a while, talking to one another about what you both spoke about in a bit more detail & also just talk to each other about things you don't know about one another, things like family pets, favourite colours, favourite brands etc.

Hyunjin ends up powering his phone back on & you are both just scrolling through his for you page, when you remember his phone ringing. "Quick question hyune, who was it that called you? If it was important you coulda stopped to answer." you ask him, not lifting your eyes from the video playing on his phone screen, not really thinking too much of it.

"Don't stress it, it was just someone I'm not gonna be speaking to anymore." he replies in s tired voice, still scrolling. His reply slightly confusing you. "Who? I don't mean to be nosey or anything but now i'm curious." you respond back, your fingers in his hair now pausing.

Without saying anything, he switches apps, onto his call log & it's Lisas name at the top.. nineteen missed calls. He just sighs as he presses on the 'more' option before deleting her number & deleting the Imessage conversation without even bothering to read her spam of texts, yelling, crying & cussing him out before switching apps back onto tiktok without saying a word & you just blush, your hands cupping his cheeks from above, your thumbs just below his eyes.

"You're cute." you say as you squeeze them playfully & he just 'tut's but still, he melts himself into your touch.

I'm not completely sure if I want to leave this story as a two parter orrrrrr do a third n final part but to everyone wanting a happier ending here you all are!

Tags: @troublemaker02 @ismokeeweed @lmhcats @isagerada @tsunderelino

[zours025]

Zombie apocalypse face au I've been thinking of...

Thoughts/details on the AU and an alt color vers of the first drawing (luring you into my evil cave) ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Face as unrelated parties... All normal humans. Caname and fruk (separately) wandering the world after generic zombie outbreak. Theyre some of the last ones left so they rarely meet people and need to depend on the other party heavily. Blahblah its miserable everyone is sad and hurt and tired. Francis had to cut off Arthurs leg to prevent an infection. Arthur has to learn to lean on Francis for a lot of stuff and they learn to get over past grudges and such... 😇 Alfred is bitten at some point and hides it from Matthew. Matthew knows, but he's basically lost any will to live and is ready to die whenever Alfred turns because. Well. "I'm only living for him anyways..." type of sentiment... They ignore it and it's never brought up but it's like. I know you know that I know that- Anyways. So those two are trying their hardest to live out their last days in relative happiness. Doing fun stuff. Appreciating the simple things, landscapes, each other's company, etc... That is until they bump into Francis and Arthur in a totally horrible state. And it's like "Well... We can't just let them die can we? We have nothing to lose anyways." So they watch over the two and care for them and once they're all in okay health they decide to stick together and move on. But Arthur and Francis are clearly more determined to live than Mattie and Alfred and they're good fighters. So they wanna keep em around, all while hiding that Alfred is slowly dying and is eventually gonna kill them all. Milking Francis and Arthur's good will... Eventually new relationships form between the four and inevitably weird "betrayal!" and jealousy type feelings show up... Francis is tired of just sleeping with Arthur and when he gets mad he flirts with either of the twins... And the like... Well I haven't thought the whole thing through but these are the important emotional bases to the idea I guess...

I wrote a scenario for many different possibilities of first-to-dies (because i find them all interesting and bcuz twitter oomf asked and i have no restraint. lole)

Alfred dies first: Most obvious scenario (like hes already a bit zombified and clearly hes getting physically weaker) Im imagining a terrible scenario no matter what. Matthew probably finds him first all hunched over and stuff womdering whats wrong before realising that it's finally the end of the line. Francis/Arthur aren't far behind and they blow "Alfreds" head off without hesitation. Obviously causes a rift between the two and Matthew, who broke their trust by hiding this from them. Matthew is inconsolable for a few days, he thought he had more time. Despite the lie I think Francis and Arthur would end up feeling sympathy. They try to keep Matthew up on his feet but frankly I think this would end with him blowing his brains out eventually anyways... 😊

Alternatively Mattie has been mentally preparing himself for a very long time and he immediately kills "Alfred" and then himself in quick succession. Francis and Arthur are haunted by the memory of the two for the rest of their trip.

Arthur dies first: Similarly, I think its easy to imagine this. He's missing a leg and mostly needs to be near someone else to survive zombie attacks/ambushes. Would probably accidentally get separated from the group and get overrun... Might use himself as a distraction to allow the other three to get away in a particularly dire situation... In a way he thinks hes just dead weight anyways and he wants to see the other three live knowing that he doesn't have much left to offer them (Francis would disagree). Francis is obviously very upset and he loses sleep over the memory of Arthur, his last "real" link to his normal life before all of this. But I think Francis is stable enough to prioritise the twins he took under his wing. He knows they need someone to keep them together, so he toughs it out. Everything is fine till Alfred turns some many months later. By then, Francis developed a strong attachment to the two and doesn't have any regrets. Would probably struggle against Alfreds strength to allow Matthew to escape or something along those lines...

Francis dies first: I can also see him just getting killed by sheer numbers. I think he grew very fond of the twins pretty fast + had to be Arthurs protection for a long time and so he developed this feeling of "I need to keep them all safe at all costs". I don't think itd be as much of a letting go type thing as Arthur. It's more calculated and would only happen in a worst-case scenario. I think Arthur would be pretty irritable for the next few weeks, a lot of things remind him of Francis. It bothers him since he wants to just forget and move on, but he finds that his feelings are more difficult to control than he initially thought. Yells a lot at Matthew and Alfred and gets into petty fights. Its not pretty, but they have their moments... In the end, it's not like he wants to make them suffer. They're all he has left now. Hes trying his best. Has a lot of days where he just wishes he had been the one to die instead.

Matthew dies first: Honestly I'm imagining a non-zombie related death, like an accident with one of the guns or some unrelated illness or like. Falling onto a branch? Falling from high up in general? Setting off a trap? Lol idk. Something that allows Alfred to hold Matthew during his final moments or at least look into his eyes. I think hes also the most liable to flip out on everyone and just kill the four of them all together idk ❤ Crazy girl ❤ It shocks Alfred immensely. He expected to be the first one to die and he's really upset about the whole thing. Outwardly, he cracks jokes and tries to convince the other two that he's fine but he's very much not. Doesn't really know what tk do with himself. Just goes through the motions every day. Francis and Arthur notice the slight change in behaviour but don't really say anything and pretend everything is fine. Playing at being a normal family. Arthur and Francis try spending lots of time with Alfred but nothing really helps. Eventually Alfred turns without ever telling them he was infected and they all die the end. Alternatively he kills the other two and then himself on like a random Tuesday. ❤

Bonus: Everyone except Alfred dies lol. Alone in the desolate empty landscape. Welp!!! What now!!!

If you saw my first post of this text part no you didn't im editing this and putting it here with the drawing its more organised ❤ okay ❤

[tropes-and-tales]

Dyin' for a Taste

Day 11:  Face Sitting (Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!) 

CW:  Idiots in love; pining; smut (oral, f!receiving); 18+ only.

Word Count:  4096

AN:  This was requested by an anonymous person!

AN2: When I say this is not edited, please know it is NOT EDITED. Full of typos and sloppy typing. Tropes is a fat-fingered old crone.

It starts with a joke.

The 141 is on a covert ops in the mountains.  It’s cold—the sort of cold that burns, that makes the bones ache.  You’re posted up in a perch, your sniper’s rifle at the ready if shit goes south.  The rest of the team is in the square below, waiting for the drop.

“My bollacks are gonna freeze off,” Soap complains over the comms, and you snort at the whining tone in his soft Scottish brogue. 

“Shoulda dressed for the weather,” you reply.  “Ghost probably has a spare balaclava.”

“And cover this handsome face?”

“Won’t be so handsome when your nose turns black from frostbite.”

You hear the tsch noise he makes over the comms, the very Soap, very Scottish noise of dismissal. 

“You’ll have to sit on my face then, hen, and warm me back up,” he says.

You’re rarely stunned into silence—you and the guys are always making off-color jokes—but when you open your mouth to reply, you only gape wordlessly.  The silence over the comms grows, expands, until Gaz—fucking Gaz—chimes in.

“I think she’s into the idea, bruv.”

And you can’t respond to that fast enough either, which leaves another long beat of silence over the comms, which likely seems like enough of an answer.

-----

The mission goes smoothly.  The team splits up as planned to avoid drawing attention.  You don’t see Soap again until a few days later when you regroup at HQ.

You think, perhaps, that he’s forgotten.  Maybe that’d be better.  You and Soap get along well, and sometimes he flirts with you, but he flirts with everyone.  It means nothing. 

And yet…

And yet, it’s Soap.  You might be able to lie to others, but you can’t lie to yourself:  you’ve spent many a lonely night with your thoughts drifting to him.  Turning him over and over in your mind. 

Soap MacTavish.  Handsome, almost unbearably so.  He could be a cocky asshole, be the sort of man who knows he’s hot and be insufferable about it, but he’s gregarious.  Friendly.  He’s a happy-go-lucky sort of man—or as much as someone in the One-Four-One can be.

-----

“Been avoiding me.”

It’s a statement, not a question.  Soap corners you in the mess hall, his blue eyes peering at you without guile.  He looks almost concerned.

“I haven’t,” you reply.  You try to shift past him, but he puts a hand out against the doorway, bars you with his arm.

“You have.”  He peers at you closer, his blue eyes somber.  “What’s wrong?”

“Why would anything be wrong?”

You thought, perhaps, that he’d forgotten…but those somber eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles, then smooth out as he schools his expression.

“Maybe you think my offer was wrong,” he says.

“I never said that.”  You duck under his arm, but he lays his hand on your shoulder and stills you again.

“You’ve never said anything about it.”  You don’t look at him, but you hear his gentle snort of laughter.  “Your silence is deafening.”

You feel your face start to heat up because he’s not wrong.  Too much time has passed now to address that moment in the mountains.  You should have said something then, spat out some rejoinder to signal that it meant nothing to you, that it was just another dumb joke between you and Soap.  But something about that dumb joke conjures up the mental image of you and Soap, and your face burns in embarrassment.

So you duck from his light grip on your shoulder and it makes him laugh again, then call out to your retreating form, “the offer still stands, hen.”

-----

A month passes, then another.  You get leave for a few weeks and go someplace warm, a beach with golden sand and soft breezes where you can relax and forget the horrors of what you see every day.

Then you’re back on base, then another mission.  Over and over, the same routine.

Through it all:  Soap MacTavish, the team’s Golden Retriever.  Always with an easy grin on his handsome face, a laugh, a joke.  He teases Ghost, he does a passable impression of Captain Price.  He gives Gaz a hard time about their rival rugby teams, but it’s always good-natured. 

He jokes with you, but that joke—the one about sitting on his face—becomes just a joke between the two of you.  You don’t know if the other men have forgotten it, but Soap only brings it up when you’re alone now.

At the barracks, in the rec room, he’s sprawled out on the couch and half-dozing, half-watching a rugby match.  When you walk past, he notices, sits up.  Beckons you over, tells you to have a seat…then thoughtfully strokes his face with that damned smirk and comically waggling eyebrows.

“You’re a jackass,” you call out as you leave the room, but by now, it makes you laugh…and it lightly stokes that ever-burning flame low in your belly.

-----

Another time, he sidles up to you at the range as you study your targets with their tight formation of bullet holes.  He points out one shot, high in the corner of the paper, off of the concentric circles of the bullseye.

“Missed one,” he says.

You scoff.  “One out of….many.”

He matches your scoff with one of his own.  “Might be losing your edge.”

“I’m not.”  You know he’s winding you up, but that missed shot galls you. 

“Maybe you’re stressed out.”

You set the target down on the wooden railing.  “Maybe you’re stressing me out, MacTavish.”

It’s the wrong thing to say.  His blue eyes light up in glee, and he only gets out the first part of his retort—You know what’s good for de-stressing—before you drop to one knee and start disassembling your sniper rifle, ducking your head and hiding your burning cheeks from him.

“…nothing wrong with it,” he finishes as you shut the rifle’s case, and you realize you’ve missed part of what he’s said.

“There isn’t,” you agree.  You stand up and lean a bit on the courage that sees you through each mission.  You look him square in the eye and add, “but you’re just flirting.”

He gazes back at you, a soft smile on his face, only a little teasing.  “Not just flirting.”

“Sure.”  You roll your eyes.

He makes his Soap-branded tsch sound, then he loops his arm around your shoulders to pull you in close.  He smells like…well, he smells like soap, clean with a hint of something herbal.  It’s nothing he hasn’t done a hundred times—in safe houses after a mission, walking out of a bar on a night out with the team—that companionable way he pulls you against him.

“It makes me sad when you don’t believe me, hen,” he chuckles, and it’s low, right by your ear, his warm breath fanning over you. 

You’re not sure what spurs your next move.  You’re a natural-born sniper; you take the measure of everything around you—the curve of the earth, the speed and direction of the wind—before you squeeze your trigger.  You’re the same with people, cautious and feeling out every angle of their intentions before you make a move.  But you know Soap, and the question around his joke is the only uncertainty.

Something makes you act without much thought.  Your rifle case in your hand, your other hand tucked in your pocket, and Soap’s arm slung around your shoulders…the moment is crystalized, will be an easy memory to recall in the years to come because this is when everything between the two of you changes.

“You know what?” you ask, and you don’t allow him to hazard a guess.  Instead, you gaze at him levelly, straight into those bright blue eyes of his and add, “alright, let’s do this.”

It’s comical, how the smile drops from his face, how his mouth makes a little “oh” of surprise.  His eyes scan your face, quick, like he’s trying to find the joke, trying to find proof you’re just having a laugh at his expense.

“Bonnie,” he starts to say, and his voice has a rough edge to it.  His voice is missing its usual teasing edge, and he pauses to study you.  You don’t know if he realizes it, but the tip of his tongue darts out, licks against his lower lip, like he’s really thinking of it now that it could be a reality.

“Bonnie, are you just…are ye fer real?”  His voice is lower and his accent gets thicker, and it sets a frisson of heat shimmering through your lower belly.

You refuse to blink.  Refuse to look away.  “I’m for real if you are.”

“I was never joking about that.”

“Then I’m not joking either.”  You swing your rifle case towards the barracks, playing at bravery but willing the fluttery feeling in your stomach to calm.  “So let’s go.”

Soap—gregarious, convivial Soap—says nothing else on the walk back.  He keeps his arm around your shoulders, though, and his hand settles against your bicep, rubs you briskly before gently holding you there, like he’s proving to himself that you’re real, that the moment is really happening.

-----

Your nerve wobbles a little when you get back to quarters.  Soap’s nerves must have a similar wobble, because he turns to you and his usual boyish grin is gone, replaced by a grave expression.

“You dinnae have to do this,” he says, “if you don’t want to.”

Part of you wants to back out, chuck him in the arm and say it was just a joke.  You could still back out.  Soap is flirty and gregarious, but hooking up would irrevocably change your easy relationship with him.  It could change the tenor of the team.  And yet…

…don’t you both face death every day?  Don’t you see the absolute worst of humanity?  Don’t your bodies bear the scars of your hard, unrelenting lives—countless scars, visible and invisible both?  Don’t you all operate in your own bubbles of loneliness, sleeping alone night after night but crowded out by the ghosts you all haul around?

Is it too much to ask for even a moment of connection, of not feeling alone?

You gaze back at him.  Sweet Johnny MacTavish.  Handsome but not vain, smart but not aloof, funny without being cruel about his teasing.  Is there anyone you’d rather be with?

“I want to do this,” you tell him, and there’s no hesitation in your tone.  “If you do.  If you really were just joking around, then no harm, Johnny.”

His somber gaze softens at your use of his real name.  “Wasn’t joking at all.”  Then he opens the door to his quarters and turns to you, invites you in with a sweep of his hand, and when you walk past him, he lays his palm on your lower back to guide you.

-----

In truth, you’ve never actually sat on anyone’s face.  It’s one of those funny sex acts that you joke around about but have never gotten around to, like sixty-nine (always seemed more complicated than necessary) or food-play (always seemed too messy). 

Soap, it turns out, has never actually had his face sat on.

And it’s adorable, how he sheepishly runs his hand through the longer stripe of his short-shorn hair and admits as much.

“Figured it cannae be that complicated though,” he says.  He huffs out a breath, and you realize how nervous he must be, and it gives you courage to take charge.

“Kiss me first.  Then we can figure it out from there.”

The tame command makes his face light up and he murmurs, “yes, ma’am” in his brogue, and then he does as you say.

If Soap MacTavish is generally the team’s Golden Retriever, bouncing around with a wagging tail, he kisses with far more finesse.  He cups your face gently, reverently and leans forward, brushes the lightest of kisses against your lips like he’s testing the waters.  Like he’s waiting for you to pull away, and when you don’t, he kisses you again.

It’s awkward at first, but only because you’re both so tentative.  It’s uncharted territory.  He must be aware that you’re crossing a line in doing this, you think, and he must not care either.  But the awkwardness melts away quickly because Soap is a damned good kisser, skilled in how he moves his mouth against yours, his tongue against yours.  One of his hands stays on your face, cupping you gently and steering you, but the other hand touches your waist, your hip, slides around to squeeze your ass gently before returning to the dip of your waist.

He tastes like something warm and spicy, like cinnamon or nutmeg.  Everything about him is warm, really:  the way he cups your face but runs his thumb over your cheekbone, the way his other hand holds you steady as he kisses you.  And the way he looks at you when he breaks the kiss, the almost-shy way he tugs at the hem of your shirt and asks if he can take it off.

He’s warm too—his body, his skin as you bare it with each article of clothing shed.  You strip each other in tandem, and the sight of him leaves you breathless.  He’s like something carved by a Renaissance sculptor, but when you smooth your palms over the dips and swells of his muscles, you find that he’s warm to the touch, wonderfully so, and a wave of lust almost takes you out at the knees by how much you want to feel his body against yours, under you or on top of you, every inch of you pressed against him.

Soap must feel the same way about you—he touches you just as gently as before, almost reverent, but his goddamned eyes practically shine when he looks at you, then groans out, “fuck, but you’re stunning, hen.”

He maneuvers you both towards the bed, and then he stretches out across it, and this is precisely why your sexual repertoire has always been lacking:  when a brutally handsome man is stretched out in front of you like a damned buffet, your mind singularly focuses on one thing, and you rarely remember that there’s other, more adventuresome things you could do.

You’re already turned on.  Ever since the two of you walked back from the range, you’ve been on a low simmer of lust, and the desire has ratcheted up with each kiss, with each little grumbling groan of Soap’s, with each sweep of his big warm hands along your body.

So you’re already turned on, so why sit on his face when his beautiful cock—perfectly sized for you, the ruddy tip already leaking precum—is also an option?

And Soap is no dummy.  He must guess at your internal battle because he says your name softly, pulls your gaze back to his face where he smiles that brilliant Soap-smile at you.

“Alright then?” he asks.  He pats his upper chest.  “You can sit right here, to start.”

It hits you all at once how intimate this is.  Fucking, hooking up—that’s one thing.  But sitting on your teammate’s face feels like you’re taking a further step into the unknown.  Oral sex, to you, is already more intimate than regular ol’ intercourse, but sitting on his face feels…even more intimate.  There’s a lot of trust on both ends:  he has to trust you not to hurt him, not to put too much weight or force on his face or neck.  And you have to trust him too, since you’re basically smothering him you with your pussy, and many men are precious little babies about eating pussy.

“I could just…”  You trail off and gesture vaguely at where his erection strains and bobs against his belly, and Soap snorts before he replies, “we could do both, hen.”

When you don’t say anything, when you don’t move, he adds, “c’mon, sweet girl.  I’m dyin’ for a taste of ye.”

The accent is unfair, you decide.  The accent is not fighting fair.  Soap’s Scottish brogue is charming in the best of times, but his bedroom version is thicker, at a slightly lower register, and it’s entirely unfair.  It easily dismantles the rest of your meager defenses, so you nod and then kneel on the bed.  But when you start to awkwardly clamor on top of him, he stills you for a beat and taps his mouth, says, “give me a kiss first.”

And the kiss is unfair too because it reminds you that it’s just Soap, one of your dearest teammates, a man who often holds your life in his hands and whose life you hold in your own.  His now-familiar taste of spicy warmth on your tongue, and his lips curving in a smile against yours when he whispers, “climb on up, hen  Don’t keep me waitin’ anymore.”

There’s no sexy way to climb on top of him.  Do you just kneel by his chest and throw a leg over him?  Do you straddle him lower and scoot up?  You split the difference, try to straddle him on his lower chest and scoot up, but then his one arm gets pinned.  Any other man?  It might be a deal-breaker being so clumsy, but Soap laughs underneath you—a genuine belly-laugh full of warmth that makes you giggle too.  He wrangles his arm free, then lays both hands on your hips and guides you the rest of the way.

This is unbearable intimate too, being so exposed to his bright blue-eyed gaze. You probably have tons of issues around previous men who didn’t eat pussy, who were grossed out by it, but Soap’s eyes practically glitter black with how blown his pupils are.  His face rarely hides its emotions very well (he’s a shitty poker player), and there’s no disgust in his expression at all.  There’s only desire, naked and apparent.

“Tell me,” he says, and his voice is a low growl that sends that frisson of heat straight to your core.  “Tell me what is working for you, yeah?  Don’t go quiet on me.”

You nod, and you wish you could think of something cool or funny to say, but Soap lifts his head a little and presses a plush, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of one thigh, then the other, where both are splayed in front of him, and before you can even beat yourself up for failing to think of something cool or funny, his mouth is on you in earnest.

Soap, a damned good kisser.  It translates to this, his skilled tongue and lips licking at you, suckling at you, swirling against you before he breaks up the pattern with an outright kiss, then resumes his routine.  He traces the tip of his tongue around the firm bud of your clit, the perfect amount of pressure before he snakes it lower, lapping at the arousal leaking from your entrance.  He’s unabashed about it, groans against your feverish skin, and you love him in this moment—love that he wasn’t joking after all, love that he had led you here, where you sit perched on him while he feasts on your cunt and seems to genuinely enjoy it as he does. 

Any other position, you’d lean down and kiss him, or pull him to you and kiss him.  Now, as he groans against you again, you reach down and run your fingers through the longer stripe in his hair.  He must like that, because he groans a third time, and his grip on your hips spasms tighter.

You remember what he asked of you, so when he purses his lips and suckles against your clit, you gasp out a startled “oh!” but then add, “fuck, Johnny.  Just like t-that.”

“Good?”  It comes out muffled against you, and he pauses his mouth long enough to gaze up at you with a smile.

“So good.”  You shift your hand, cup his stubbled chin slick with your arousal—a gentle movement that makes his smile soften too. 

“Like when you call me Johnny, hen.”  Now he sounds a little shy, like he’s edging close to something beyond a random hookup with face-sitting.

“Keep using your mouth like that and I’ll call you Johnny all the time,” you tease.

“Deal.”  And then he’s on you again, laving your sensitive folds with his tongue, his bit of stubble raising a warm burn against your inner thighs.  His hands on your hips pull you closer, and he encourages the slow, careful rhythm when you start to actually ride his face—a languid back-and-forth, mindful of his need for oxygen, while he eats your pussy with the fervor of a starving man.

Your orgasm approaches faster than you thought; you thought you might have to fake it, since you rarely come from oral alone.  But there’s something about this position.  You feel powerful in a benign way, in charge, but mindful of the man underneath you.  You run your fingers through his hair and Soap preens at the touch, just as he preens when you pant out praise for him, tell him how good you feel. How good he is making you feel.

He must sense it because his grip tightens on your hips, but his tongue moves faster and focuses solely on your clit—teasing with the tip of his tongue, then laving it with the flat of his tongue, then wrapping his lips around it and sucking.

“F-fuck,” you choke out.  “Johnny…fuck…I’m gonna…” but you don’t finish the sentence, you keen out a garble of nonsense as you come.

The heat in your belly pools over, spills over in a brilliant wash that courses through your veins, into your trembling legs and up through your body, makes your vision shimmer and crackle with sparks.  Your heartbeat, your panting breath are loud in your own ears, and you hear Soap groan but he sounds faraway.  He teases your orgasm, prolongs it by licking against you until you grip his hair tighter and hold his head still while you clumsily dismount, then flop gracelessly onto the bed beside him.

You feel boneless.  You feel heavy, sleepy, like you could sink into the mattress and sleep for days.  You close your eyes and feel the bed shift, and Soap disappears for a moment.  You hear running water—he must be cleaning his face, you think—but then the mattress dips again and he’s curling his warm body around yours, wrapping his arms around you as he pulls you to him, then settles the blanket over both of you.

“Good, yeah?”

You laugh.  “Yeah, that was good.  Especially for someone who’s never done it before.”  A beat.  “Give me a moment to catch my breath and then I can help you out.”

Soap chuckles above you, and you feel him press his lips to your forehead before settling again.  “No need.”

“But I—”

“Already came.”

The gears in your head turn slow when you’re sated from sex.  Coming makes you stupid.  “Huh?  When?”

Another chuckle, another kiss to your head.  “When I was eating you, hen.”

You turn your head and try to peer up at him.  He looks comfortable and sleepy too, content and sated.  “Seriously?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Told ye I was dyin’ for a taste.”  He shifts a little, pulls you closer to him.  He tugs the blanket more securely around your shoulders.  “If ye want a second round, I’ll need a few minutes.”

You appraise the situation:  the warm scent of Soap, the feel of his naked body pressed to yours, the warm little cocoon he’s created here in his bed.  Of course you want a second round, but you’re sleepy too, and the thought of sleeping with Soap doesn’t seem nearly as terrifying as it might have seemed before he had his mouth on your pussy.

“Or we could sleep,” you offer.

“Sleep,” he agrees.  “Round two tomorrow.”

The doubts from earlier start to surface in your mind, but they seem tiny and inconsequential when you’re wrapped up in Soap’s arms.  You feel sleep tugging at you—he’s already asleep, you think, breathing deep and even against you—so you chance to brush your lips against the bit of him you can reach and whisper good night to him.

But he’s not quite completely asleep yet because he kisses you back, another press of his lips against your head, and he whispers back, “g’night, hen.”

[taexoxosgf]

ACROSS THE ROOM

PAIRING idol!mark lee x idol fem!reader

WORDS 6.4k

SYNOPSIS You were just so beautiful.  The type of beauty that seemed unattainable.  The type of visual Mark would never approach because he concluded that there are already a million people at your feet. 

WARNINGS both are hot (yes, this needs a warning), fluff if you squint (rlly hard), smut, vaginal fingering, oral sex (male & fem receiving), unprotected sex, rough sex, multiple orgasms, missionary, doggy, slight hair pulling

NOTES repost. my old account is gone because i’m the dumbest bitch on earth.

February.

It had been two years since your group debuted.  The award show season had just concluded and one idol group would host a party to celebrate all the hard work throughout the year.  

You practically lived at the company at this point.  Eating, sleeping, and spending all your breaks there.  SM Entertainment has strict schedules regarding breaks and recovery time which has you constantly feeling as if you’re doing one thing after another.  

Idols would rarely have any time for themselves or to let loose.  Between the busy schedules and performances, there was scarcely any time for family or friends. 

It’s only been two years, and you applaud other groups in the same company who have been slaving away for the past few years.  But that was the price for fame and riches.  Maybe it is worth it to some people.  It was for you.

The art of music and dance was all you loved since you were a little girl.  Performing for your family or school talent shows, your love for music never fizzled out as it did with some individuals.  It could happen in the future, you think.  You’re still early in your career, so you hope to become more optimistic; content with what you have. 

This year, the group that was hosts is NCT. Groups from big companies such as  HYBE, JYP, YG, etc. were in attendance.  Since it was a rare occurrence, the boys split the cost of the mansion. It was such a brilliant idea to do this, you thought. There were so many of them, and it probably didn’t even make a dent in their bank accounts.  It was a small price to pay so idols could freely interact without the pressure of cameras, and old friends could reunite.  

Even though your group was in the same company as many of the artists, it was difficult to have time for conversations due to busy schedules and different practice areas. And it was almost impossible to run into each other at the company due to its vast size. The possibility, if you could guess, would be about five percent.  If artists of the same company rarely saw each other, imagine how difficult it would be for artists from different companies to be companions or friends.  

It was easier to become acquaintances to friends if two idol groups had overlapping comebacks.  Music Bank, Show Champion, M! Countdown, etc. gave a lot of free time in between to hop over to different waiting rooms to converse with your colleagues. Your group was especially close with G-idle, showcasing false surprises every time your comebacks would be in the same time frame. 

Your close friend, Soyeon, stands beside you, her right hand holding a red solo cup.  

“So you never hang out with guys, and you haven’t fucked a guy since last year?” 

“Nope, I don’t intend to tonight. And you know how hard it is to hang out with idols of the opposite gender. ”

Her hands soothingly rub against the sides of your arms. “No, no, no. I’m not having any of that tonight. When do we get a chance to roam free? No judgment, but this dry spell is getting out of hand.”

You scoff at your friend before continuing, “Unnie, these are basically our coworkers, I don’t know.”  

She rolls her eyes at you before standing in front of you, face-to-face, “Oh come on, don’t be a buzzkill babe.  So you’re telling me you don’t think anyone is attractive in this house full of hot people?” 

Her question causes you to scan around the room and outside the backyard.  Your eyes halt for a split second, but continue scanning around, pretending it never happened.  

“Oh, I saw that,” she points at you.  “There is a guy you wanna fuck!” 

Throwing your arms down in a huff of disapproval, you’re about to give in to Soyeon’s frenzy.  “Girl, could you be any fucking louder?” 

“You better tell me now, I caught you bitch,” she playfully slaps your arm.  

You bite your lip slightly, contemplating revealing who it is.  Looking up at her, she’s staring at you with anticipation. Her eyes grow wider by the second and you’re not surprised when you’re giving into her puppy dog eyes.  

Your hands fall on her shoulders as you close in on the space between the two of you. “Mark,” you whisper.

“Oh my god!” 

You wince. 

“I fucking knew it! I always thought you guys would look hot together.” 

“What? You thought about this before?” 

“Maybe. But that’s not the point.  I swear I saw him eye you, and only you when you guys got here!” she’s already jumping and pushing you to the backyard before you can get another word out.  

You try your fucking hardest to push back against her, but it’s no use.  Her drunk ass is already overpowering you.  

Mark is beside the pool playing with some of his members and others from different groups.  Tossing the ping-pong, the millisecond has him hoping it can make it into the red cup charged with alcohol.  

“Fuck,” his failure causes him to throw his head back. 

“You fucking suck, I’m three cups from winning bitch!” Yeonjun yells from across the foldable table.  

His success in the third remaining cup has him rejoicing, and he daps up his teammates.  

“Now give the ball to Sunwoo.  He’ll land it at the house next door,” Mark retorts. 

“Aw, you’re about to lose, so you’re talking out of your ass.” 

“You’re so drunk, you know that?” Mark laughs, ignoring his friends' behavior.   He’s stepping away to let the following person use their turn. 

He’s looking around at all the people at the house.  This was the one night of the year he looked forward to.  Just friends having fun and letting loose, no cameras, no one to judge or inspect his every move or facial expressions.  

He spots you and Soyeon against the glass sliding doors.  You look so fucking hot.  Your top accentuated the curve of your waist so well, and he noticed the mini skirt on your body rides up a little more every time he steals a glance at you.  The top you wore showed the perfect amount of cleavage and your perky breasts are on display for everyone to see.  He wants to be the only one to see them fully. He wants to be the only one to see you naked in front of him.  

Oh, how he would love to fuck you. He couldn’t help it. You look so delicious standing there, with your pouty lips and doe-like eyes.  Your perfect body and silky hair.

To be honest, he noticed you at the company and could never work up the courage to start a conversation with you.  News flash: this has literally never happened to him before.  It was never difficult to speak confidently to anyone until you.  His extroverted personality suddenly does a one-eighty whenever he contemplates approaching you.   

You were just so beautiful.  The type of beauty that seemed unattainable.  The type of visual Mark would never approach because he concluded that there are already a million people at your feet. 

He recalls the few times he passed you in the halls and you politely bowed.  Or when your recording sessions would overlap slightly, and he would hear your voice in the studio.  Or when he passed by you in those tight clothes that barely covered your body practicing with your group. 

Mark couldn’t lie, you were the most attractive out of all of them.  He personally thinks, no one could compare, but he has yet to discover what you’re really like.  Not the personality you convey on-screen.  

This only happens once a year.  It was an opening for him to finally converse with you.  The company, media, or fans wouldn’t have a clue about it.  There would be no confession to them, the perfect chance to shoot his shot.  The only thing holding him back would be rejection.  At this point, the opportunity is too tempting to ignore as soon as he spots Soyeon pulling you outside the home. 

This is so embarrassing.

You and Mark make eye contact as Soyeon drags you out the door.  He doesn’t pretend to look away.  

“Come on! Move!” 

“No! Oh my god! Stop!”

Soyeon finally stops with the physical force, and you both stare at each other.  Her eyes move from your eyes to his, another way of telling you to get on with it. 

“Think about it, this is the one day of the year where you’ll really get the chance, and with no judgment. Or sneaking around,” she adds in the last part, hoping you would miss it.  And you definitely didn’t. 

She’s stern on her point, supporting it over and over again with more reasons.  The persuasion is working, you think.  And now, you’re seriously contemplating it. What’s the harm? Rejection? Embarrassment? You don’t even know if he wants you. 

But maybe she’s right. You’ll most likely never run into him after today, and if you do, it probably won’t be until the same time next year. 

“I don’t want to hear for months after today what could’ve been.  You’ll spend so much time regretting it.  I know you better than yourself,” Soyeon adds further. 

Her words finally fuel your courage to make a move.  “Okay, just give me a second to build some confidence, meditate, or something,” you’re shutting your eyes to soothe the nervousness away. 

“Mhm, but maybe make it fast. Hot guy my twelve o’clock, coming your way. You’ll thank me later!” she quickly warns you as she pecks you on the cheek before making her way out of your line of sight.

There is no time for you to process what’s happening, or to prepare after she utters her last words. 

Turning around, Mark is already directly in front of you, your eyes align with his chest and it takes all of you to meet his eyes.  

“You don’t seem too happy to see me.” 

He was so fine.  You just wanted to stare at him. No matter how weird that sounded.

He’s scanning your entire form, taking a moment to drink in your appearance as you respond.  “I don’t have any emotions towards you.  We’ve never formally met.”

“Formally?  Did we cross paths at a time I didn’t know about?” The ice clinks against the cup as Mark raises it to sip and his Adam's apple bobs in a thick swallow. 

“I don’t know.  Maybe you know the answer,” you’re habitually pulling your body towards him.  The scent of his cologne laced with weed fills your nostrils and you already feel the warmth of his body radiating off him. You just can’t help it.  You wanted him so badly, so badly that you didn’t second guess your obvious signals. 

“You’re acting a little too dumb, saying words before thinking them through,” the false confidence is oozing from your voice as you speak. Okay.  Maybe you’re drunk and you didn’t know it.  If that’s the case, you won’t stop any time soon. 

“What do you mean I’m acting dumb?” he follows his response with a chuckle at your assumption. 

“You approached me as if we knew each other, then suddenly, you’ve never seen me before?” 

“You’ve got it all wrong baby,” the pet name catches you off guard, but it rolls off his tongue like velvet.  “We’ve never met, but I’ve noticed you.” 

“Notice me? Elaborate,” you wanted to have him explain.  Maybe he wanted you as much as you wanted him. You had to be sure.  No embarrassment or rejection today, you exclaim to yourself.  But you couldn’t jinx it.  

“You’re the one I’ve been waiting to see tonight.”  

“So you didn’t see me come in earlier?” your orbs follow your index and middle fingers as they walk up his chest. Your fingers stop finally looking at him straight in the eyes, “I call bullshit.” 

“I did,” he glances at your hand on his chest before returning to you. “Just was waiting til’ I got you all to myself.” 

‘Well… wish fulfilled… So, what is it that you hoped to see me for?” 

He looks at you differently, and what you didn’t know was he’s contemplating saying the whole and honest truth or the version that wouldn’t scare your on-screen persona away.  The innocent, dainty, girl that would break if you press too hard.  But up until now, Mark only knew of that girl.  

“Hey, Markie!” Yeonjun walks up from behind Mark, obviously drunk.  He’s stumbling around, anchoring himself by putting a hand on Mark’s shoulder.  “I see your buzyyys” he slurs while directing his attention to you. 

“You’re really so so hot, Y/n.  If yous torn Markie here, down, I’m alayz here,” his hooded eyes scream drunk.  “Hyung, don’t put that away!” he yells to someone behind you.  

You’re turning towards the home to find the person he’s addressing, but he’s suddenly stumbling past you, unintentionally pushing you backward. 

You’re off-balanced and as you close your eyes to prepare for impact, it never comes, and you feel an arm wrap around your waist, preventing you from practically eating shit.

Mark's arms are around your waist, sending a scowl back at Yeonjun before directing his attention back to you.

"As I was saying.” 

You gaze up at him, your chest now pressed against his. 

“What I hope to see you for?”

“Go on.” 

Mark doesn’t know what comes over him suddenly, but he’s thinking he should just rip it off like a bandaid because it’s all or nothing. 

“Is to have me in between your legs, and you screaming my name.” 

“I’d like to see you try,” your eyes move down to his lips.  It was so tempting to just pounce on him right here, right now.  

It was clear that you both wanted each other as much as the other did.  The game you always played with men every so often got you what you wanted, but this time, with Mark, it was almost impossible to keep playing. 

Mark doesn’t respond verbally.  Instead, he takes his hand to move the hair sheathing your ear.  You think he’s about to whisper something, but he begins kissing your neck, trailing down from your earlobe. 

“Is that what you like to do? Test people?” his lips are against your ear and you’re caught off guard, doing everything in your power to hold back a moan. 

“Yeah, that’s what I want,” you respond softly, eyes shut.  

“Be careful what you wish for.  It might come true,” he brings his face to yours, and your lips are practically two inches apart.  The buzzing in your body doesn’t stop and you’re scolding yourself for wanting to give in so easily.  

You notice him biting his lip, content with the effect he has on you. 

You lick your lips, “And what if I want it to?” 

“You’re all bark no bite baby.” 

“If you want me to bite, I will.” 

“I have yet to see otherwise,” he whispers against your ear, lip grazing your lobe. Mark doesn’t follow with another word but your impatience and the alcohol coursing through your veins forces you to make the decision. 

You close the distance between you two, connecting your lips with his.  It was so sudden, but he kisses you back almost immediately, squeezing your waist harder and the other hand instinctively goes to your cheek. 

You forget about the world around you, and that people are basically watching you begin to make out with Mark in the middle of the backyard.  But the built-up lust makes everyone disappear. You’re both in your own world, with no other thought in your consciousness. 

You don’t know what Mark is thinking, but he’s in the same boat as you.  He wanted you for so long, and now he finally has you. Following that thought, he doesn’t know what he did in his past life to deserve this, but he must have saved an entire country to be able to receive what he’s experiencing now.  

You’re kissing more roughly now, your arms around his neck as he gropes your entire body.  Your hands snake up into his hair, and you find yourself pulling his locks as it becomes more intense.  When his hand snakes down to your ass, he squeezes, which earns a gasp from you.  

Mark takes this opportunity to slip his tongue into yours.  Your mouths fit each other perfectly, and you question if the other people you made out with in the past were real, because it has never felt this good before.  

After a while, you’re pulling back, Mark struggling to pull himself away from you. 

“Easy there,” your forehead is still against his, eyes on his lips. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he husks against your mouth. 

Both of your chests are rising and falling at a rapid pace, not realizing you needed to catch your breaths. 

“Upstairs, the second door, on your left,” the words roll off his tongue without hesitation. 

You’re mutually agreeing, you, with a nod as you slowly part, and your fingers run off his, until the tip of the nail.  It’s so hard to control yourself and act as if nothing had just happened.  

Of course, people were looking.  Some were whispering to each other, the others smirking, and finally, the one’s with a scowl on their faces as they watched each one walk away from the other.  

You’re in the room sitting at the edge of the bed as you wait for Mark.  You had just sat down and looked around the room.  It’s clean and smells husky, but you can tell someone was staying here due to the small duffel bag and clothing scattered across the floor. 

And you definitely couldn’t lie, you are so nervous.  What would Mark be like in bed? Rough, dominant, gentle, or maybe submissive?  It had been so long since you had sex, it felt as if you were a virgin all over again.  

You’re amidst your own thoughts when you hear the click of the door.  The door doesn’t open carefully, but it’s practically slammed open.  Mark doesn’t look back as he closes the door behind him, not even stopping for a single second.  The moment he sees you, he’s grabbing your face and smashes your lips against each other.  It’s too fast, all of it happening in one motion.  

You’re stumbling back until the back of your leg hits the edge of the bed, forcing you to sit back on it. But Mark’s lips don’t leave yours, following you and pushing you slowly until your back hits the mattress. His arms cage your body with his knee between your legs.  You feel Mark grab behind the bend of your leg to wrap around his torso while your lips are still attached;  Intertwining in perfect harmony.  

The buzzing all around your body only seems to grow stronger as he becomes more aggressive.  It was like he was so hungry that he couldn’t stop even if someone walked into the room right this instant.  You couldn’t lie, it would probably turn you on more.  

Mark couldn’t help it, you were just so insatiable, like a drug that he couldn’t get enough of.  Like a drug, he could take over and over, without getting sick.  He wanted all of you so badly, but only if you were willing to give yourself to him.  

The more you dive deeper into Mark, the more he sucks you in, and the more you want him. 

The makeout is unforgiving, animalistic almost. “So sweet,” he murmurs against your mouth.  It feels too good to open your eyes to him.  Your panties are already sticky and if this continues, you’d have to throw them away.  

You’re biting your lip as Mark’s lips leave yours to trail kisses down your neck.  He’s careful not to leave hickeys as he already knows that your makeup artists would be unforgiving.  

But Mark continues to trace kisses down your body, pulling down your skirt and practically tearing off your underwear in one motion. He’s kissing all around except where you need him the most and it makes you whine.  

“Tell me you want it,” this statement has you looking down and locking eyes with him. 

“Mark, just get on with it.”

“Try again,” at that, he presses circles at your clit without a warning. It’s slow, the pad of his thumb easing over your bud.  But it’s too slow, and you need more.  

“Mark, Please.  I want you,” you mewl, giving in to his demand. The one action already having you fall apart right under his fingertips.  Before you know it, you’re instinctively moving your body closer to him, the eagerness exemplifying the level of want when you’re clenching around nothing. 

“Yeah?” you don’t see it but the smirk he exudes at your greenlight is much more than subtle.  “Don’t have a smart-ass comment now?” 

Before you can retort, he’s diving head first, licking a stripe up your slit.  It’s a satisfying feeling, a gasp threatening to spill from your lips as the feeling of arousal becomes stronger.  

He’s continuing, knowing exactly how to turn you on, knowing exactly how to touch your body, and how to make your eyes roll back.  His hands roughly push against the sides of your thigh to prevent you from moving out of place and the dim lights aren’t a hurdle as Mark finds your clit and gives it a sharp suck.  It’s just the beginning as he continues slurping and sucking in all the right places, unforgiving as he gives you the best head of your life.  Your eyes feel as if they're going to fall out of their sockets at the perfect pressure and pace. 

“Fuuu-ck,” it’s stretched out, the same word combining with a previous moan that threatened to come out from the back of your throat.  

“You’re so wet,” he rasps against your cunt. “So fucking messy.” 

“Mark, don’t stop!” 

What you didn’t know is Mark loved giving head.  He didn’t need to receive anything in return.  Knowing he made his partner cum turns him on beyond belief.  Making you squirm and moan his name like a mantra has him instinctively rutting his crotch against the mattress.  

You didn’t know he was this good.  It’s as if you and he have done this a hundred times before.  You’re absolutely drenched, your arousal mixed with his saliva drips down your core.  But a mess was the last thing you and Mark worried about.  

“Mark, I need more,” you squirm beneath him, your voice sounding already fucked out.

“Is that a demand?” he’s teasing, inserting only his middle finger while awaiting your obedience. 

A small gasp leaves your lips before you utter a plea, “Holy shit, Mark, please.” You’re practically whining at this point while your temper and impatience becomes all too consuming. 

“That’s better,” he adds his ring finger, adding to the fullness and earning another gasp from you. 

“Damn.  Thinking about your face when you cum is already making me so hard,” he groans against your cunt and continues to slowly grind his erection against the mattress with no embarrassment.  You were already fucked out, but you could see him from your peripheral view, and if it wasn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, you don’t know what is.  

Mark’s watching your expressions as he slowly pulls his fingers out before plunging them back in.  He doesn’t let up as the slow motion suddenly speeds up, and he has you moaning and squirming underneath him. 

He suddenly sucks on your clit in sync with the rhythm of his fingers and your eyes practically roll into your head.  “Mark, Mark,” you shout as your thighs begin to quiver and you’re arching your back at the gratifying overstimulation.  

"I-I’m gonna cum," your words are barely audible, mingled with gasps and groans, but Mark attentively listens, hearing every sound that emanates from you.  He doesn't stop and keeps going in the same motions, only rougher and faster. It's not until he curls his fingers inside you that he finally reaches the sweet spot. 

Your orgasm hits you all at once, tears threaten to spill down the sides of your face as the band in your lower abdomen inevitably snaps, and your entire body shakes.  Mark sucks and slurps on your clit as if nothing happened, and you're virtually screaming.  The obscene sounds fill the room and don't halt until you beg him to stop and he notices the cum gushing out of your body painting his fingers and dripping down your cunt.  

“Fuck,” you’re spent, and it’s all solely from Mark’s tongue and fingers.  You haven’t even seen his dick yet, and it already tops all the other people you’ve decided to waste your nights with. 

“Done already?” The words are like butter, right before he licks another stripe up our sensitive core. “Well, I’m not done with you,” you quiver as he carefully drops the straps of your top, and then, brings the fabric over your head.  Your senses seem to be on overdrive today, and you can’t get enough.   

Mark's large hands glide from the inside to the outside of your thighs, merely to define the contour of your hips and waist, stopping to frame your breasts, and slowly begins circling your nipples, as if he read your thoughts.  “Feel good?” 

“Mhm,” the high from one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had begins to finally come down and you notice the lips that hover right above you. Before another thought, your arm hooks around his neck to pull him down onto your lips.  

He welcomes the kiss, mouth moving languidly with yours.  Both of your bodies melt into each other as the serene moment becomes all too comfortable.  His hand continues to press circles on your nipple as the other gently rubs against your waist, eventually moving down to your inner thigh, in an attempt to soothe your spent body. The push and pull of your lips continues on for a few moments before it becomes faster.  Mark bites down on your lower lip, but you whimper at the action because of the overwhelming sensitivity.  

At your whimper, he lets go to lick over your bottom lip as an expression of remorse.  You’re so overwhelmed, it's only now that you remember his very big problem.  It’s poking at your hip, and he lets you know he notices your revelation by experimentally pressing his erection against your center. This causes you to lock eyes with him, another smirk adorning his perfect face.  

Mark’s cockiness only instigates you to unhook the arm around his neck and move down to cup his erection.  You don’t even look down, staring up at him as you palm him through his pants.  “You just love playing games don’t you,” but the shaky exhale he withdraws notifies you of the facade.

“Only if you’re playing,” your hooded eyes and bottom lip trapped in between your teeth say much more.  The seductiveness of your tone only pulls Mark closer to you, him getting lost in every single sense. 

Mark decides at this very moment he's too impatient to withhold any longer.  He's had enough.  Enough of your doe eyes staring at him as if nothing else matters.  Enough with the melodious responses that exit your pretty lips. Enough of the temptation that you are. He's willing to obey every demand, no matter the cost. He thinks that even though you two hardly know each other, it's as if you've done this a hundred times before.

He is already withdrawing from your body to remove his clothing in front of you. The warmth is missed, but now you’re just sitting there in awe, because what the fuck.  The large t-shirt he always wore hid his delicious arms and oh so, thin waist. Mark’s towering over you and it’s difficult not to gawk at his figure.  The boxers that hug his hips are pulled down, revealing his big cock.  You knew it was more than average when feeling the imprint on his pants, but you almost drool at the sight in front of you.  

“Like what you see?” he’s emitting the same look, with the corner of his lip tugging up in return for your reactions.  

You don't say a thing, instead groaning at his languid movements, legs spread open, upper body propped up with your arms. You continue to watch as he puts his hand over his cock and gently strokes it.  Mark bites his lower lip to keep a groan at bay after stroking a little quicker.  Watching him fuck himself turned you on belief and it should be embarrassing but the sight was basically straight out of a porn video.  

“Let me help you out,” patience was never your strong suit, and the ogling only lasts a few moments before you’re on all fours, inching to the edge of the bed where Mark stands.  He lets you, removing his hand before you lick a long stripe up from the base of his cock, then slightly sucking the tip. A smile threatens to come about as Mark twitches at your action.  

“Stop teasing before I fuck you senseless against the wall,” he huffs, throwing his head back. Mark was so close to just pulling you off and using you if you let him.  You seemed to be taking your precious time, but he was slightly worried he would come embarrassingly fast if you were the one in control here.  Anything you did, he seemed to fall apart so easily.  Right into the palm of your hand. 

The warning was one that seemed like a reward to you, but you regress, pushing him into your mouth in one motion.  Immediately gagging, the tip hits the back of your throat fast.  It barely fits inside your mouth, and you find yourself using your hand to make up for the remainder.  “Shit, that’s it,” he groans at the vibration from your throat as his praise makes you moan, imagining his cock in your pussy later.

You can feel every ridge of his cock in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks, sucking and moving back and forth.  He was so big, and the more you took of him, the more sounds came from Mark. It only urged you on further, sucking and bobbing like your life depended on it.

You’re squeezing your thighs together to aid the ache as the sound of the glide of your tongue against his cock is the only thing filling the air in the bedroom.  It seems to be the final straw when he uses his hand to twist your hair and pull you off his cock.  “Fuck, enough.  I’m gonna cum if you keep going.” 

You use the back of your hand to wipe off the corners of your mouth before Mark guides you onto your back with his hand still wrapped around your hair, the same hand resting on the back of your head. He's hanging over you once more, and the warmth you longed for returns.  Your legs are already spread open, wanting to cure the clenching of nothing in between your legs. 

“Are you sure you want this?” he’s biting his lip as he politely runs the hand originally entangled in your hair to push away the ones in front of your face.  

“Want you so bad,” your words combine with a whimper because he’s running his cock back and forth over your sensitive folds, collecting as much cum as possible.  

He offers a polite smile before he pushes in. It’s slow, but Mark’s size was far from normal, at least, far from what you’re used to. You feel so full and you both gasp at the contact, a grunt coming from him.  “Oh my fucking god,” you almost choke on your words, your mouth forming an ‘o’ shape as you adjust to his size.  Mark grunts against your ear at your pussy swallowing his dick.  If he were to die right now, this is what he guesses heaven would feel like.  

“Fuck,” he tests the waters by grinding his hips against you, and it already has your back arching.  “You’re so fucking tight,” his hands return to your waist, the arch of your back forced back onto the mattress. His hands are sure to leave bruises, but you couldn’t give a care in the world.   Every single movement and drag of his cock against your walls is ecstasy, the delicious burn fueling the awaiting high. “You’re such a good girl. Taking me so well,” he murmurs. 

“Mark, please move.” 

“So needy,” he rolls his hips against you once more, while his pelvis is against you, “Your wish is my command,” before pulling back and diving back into your heat.  “Oh,” a moan escapes your lips at the action. Your eyes are barely open, but those hooded eyes are focused on the Greek god in front of you.  You stare at the strained muscles all along his back, his whole body flexing with every movement.  

He’s repeating the same pull and push of his hips until there's a consistent pace, every stroke earning more sounds from you. The grip he has on you becomes tighter as he begins speeding up his thrusts.  

You’re practically sobbing at the way Mark burrows his cock inside you, fucking you so that you can’t walk the next day.  It’s so rough, breasts and body jolting with every movement, and you’re searching for stability by bringing your legs around his waist. You love it rough.  Wanting him to use you, use you in any way he wanted. Mark suddenly pulls out almost completely before brutally hitting the spot inside you where you need him the most.  

“H-holy shit, Mark.”

He’s so lost in the pleasure, the lewd sounds of his balls slapping against your ass and the feel of your pussy choking his cock like a vice makes it almost painful to hold back his moans. It’s an impossible task though, with you in front of him lost in pleasure, tits bouncing in front of his face with the pretty sounds coming from you.  Mark is too close.  Embarrassingly close.  He wants to prolong this as long as possible because he can’t seem to ever get enough.  

“You’re not the sweet, innocent girl everyone thinks you are, are you?” he spits and you’re too fucked out to decipher his words.  “W-what,” your words combine with a moan because you yourself feel the forming of another orgasm in your lower abdomen and attempt to meet his thrusts halfway to reach euphoria. Tears are threatening to fall, makeup smeared, but you don’t give a care in the world as Mark continues.  

“You act like an innocent school girl who’s gonna break if she receives one insult,” he scoffs.  “But you’re not,” before he can finish his string of words, he’s pulling his cock out of you to turn you around onto your stomach.  You yelp at the action before you feel his arm hook around your waist, bringing you up to your knees. 

 “You’re dirty, walking around in clothing that barely covers your body, so what? So you can get fucked?” you gasp as Mark plunges his cock back inside from behind, the new angle making you squirm. He has his lip caught between his teeth as he continues with the pace he exercised prior. 

“Mark I-i’ll come,” you're dropping to your elbows after your arms give out. It seems as if Mark is in the same boat as you when his thrusts become faster and more aggressive; if that’s even possible.  Your brain feels like a puddle of mush, the band threatening to snap again.  

“You got what you wanted,” he leans down to hover against your ear with his chin against your nape, not stopping the addictive pace of his thrusts.  “But you got it all wrong.” 

“Mark d-don’t stop! Fuck!” 

He brings his arm back below you and pinches your clit.  "From now on, I'm the only one who gets to fuck you. Got it?" You're not sure if it's the hazy words that come out of his mouth or the way he explores your body, but you're at the point where you'll do anything to get to the goal given that your legs are shaking. You’re so close, and you want it so fucking bad.  

“Yes! Fuck yes!” 

“So good.  Come for me, baby,” He rasps, unable to hide how fucked out he is. With a few more thrusts from Mark, the coil finally snaps and your entire body convulses underneath him. He keeps going even after this, pursuing his high and intensifying the orgasm. You're shaking and sobbing, and it's spreading throughout your body, beginning in your lower belly and progressing throughout.  It’s consuming you completely, the addicting high turning your body into a mass of nothing. A moan threatens to escape from your throat, but to no avail, not a single sound comes about.  

"Holy shit, so fucking tight," your pussy spasms around his cock, making it difficult for Mark to move, but it's enough for him to reach his, cum painting your walls as he rides out both of your peaks; Your cum and his mix together as it drips down your body. 

You feel your entire body collapse back onto the mattress as you come down, and your consciousness battles with the idea of sleep as it wanders. 

 Not soon after, it finally gives in.  

The intense rays of the sun through the drapes forces you awake, eyelids fluttering at the intrusion.  You rub your eyes before opening them, and after a few moments, you realize that this isn't your room, and memories from the night before resurface.  While twisting your body around to the opposing side, a small smile appears on your lips.  

Mark is fast asleep beneath the sheets, his features serene.  You simply want to continue watching him sleep with no expression on his face because he's simply, well, gorgeous.  But you quickly second-guess yourself and determine that, yes, this is a little weird, therefore getting up to use the restroom to distract yourself was the best decision.  

Before your feet can touch the cold floor, a hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you back to your original position.  Except, this time, Mark’s arms are wrapped around your entire figure, his chin resting against the crown of your head. 

"Let's just stay like this for a little while," he declares, lids remaining closed. 

You melt against him, with a small laugh pervading the room, and say, "Okay." 

Soon after, you're both falling asleep once more, bodies entangled like they were the night before, but for a completely different reason. 

[ghettogirly]

[🕷️] 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒!

authors note: please reblog and like so others can see! Hope you enjoy!!

[🕷️] 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄:

🕷️ - He would be very keen on spending time together one on one especially during his time in the cartel where it’s unknown if there will be another tomorrow.

🕷️- I think he would love staying inside his villa with you and enjoying a nice home meal while watching a movie.

🕷️- He would love giving you self defence lessons and training you in the gym, especially since that’s his element. This man would have a whole training and diet plan already made for you.

🕷️- Armando would try take you out every now and then, maybe to go shopping or for a nice dinner just to give you a feeling of a relatively normal life. He wouldn’t do this often though, probably only doing this for anniversaries as he wouldn’t want to place you in any danger.

🕷️- He would enjoy coming back home after some business he had to handle whether that was securing a deal or carrying out an execution, to see you sleeping in your shared bed. This would give him a sense of security and also spend some quality time of sleeping together.

[🕷️] 𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇:

🕷️- He would not be someone to do public display of affection. The thought of someone seeing him be vulnerable with you would probably cause trouble.

🕷️- The only display of affection he would do would be longing stares at you if you walk past him, sneaky winks or he would hold your fingertips as you talk to him, making sure to hold eye contact with you.

🕷️- It would be a struggle at first to make him initiate affection as he grew up without parents. An incarcerated mother and a dad he grew up to hate? A whole lot of issues.

🕷️- However, he would eventually warm up to the idea.

🕷️-Behind closed doors, he would love wrapping his arms around you and hugging you as it gives him the satisfaction of protecting you.

🕷️- He would also love giving you slow, passionate kisses. (depending on his mood) The type to make you and him both, longing for more.

🕷️- however if he’s angry, you already know he’s going to be grabbing your face and forcing you into a heated, passionate kiss. His hands exploring your body as he releases his frustrations.

[🕷️] 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:

🕷️- He would openly compliment your superficial things such as your clothes, hair or makeup.

🕷️- However, getting something beneath the surface level for him would be tough.

🕷️- He’s overly critical and cynical of the world, believing evil things happen to everyone and that you never really know someone’s true self.

🕷️- However, his perception quickly changed when he met you.

🕷️- You showed him something different, a breath of fresh air. He loved the way you carried yourself, holding yourself with grace but not hesitant to assert yourself.

🕷️- One day he would say, “I really admire your character baby.”

🕷️- You would look at him in shock, not hearing those words before and quite frankly caught off guard at his sensitive words. Nevertheless you would smile and reply, “I learnt it all from you.”

[🕷️] 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄

🕷️- This wouldn’t really be a big one for him.

🕷️- I believe he would expect you to be able to do things for yourself, he wouldn’t be able to care for you, himself and his cartel as well. He would get frustrated at your lack of ability to be able to care for yourself.

🕷️- However, if you ever get hurt or sick you can bet on it that he’s taking care of you.

🕷️- He wouldn’t let anyone help you, only him.

🕷️- He would change your dressings or help you take your medication. Even bring you soup for your sore throat.

🕷️- He would help clean up around the bedroom and help you do basic tasks again.

🕷️- He has maids for the rest, so what’s the point.

[🕷️] 𝐆𝐈𝐅𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆:

🕷️- Armando wouldn’t really get you surprise gifts, he would much prefer to give you money and allow you to buy your own.

🕷️- He would surprise you with an amount of cash and then you can buy what you want.

🕷️- Sometimes he’ll come back with a new necklace for you that has his initials or the name of his cartel, just to let other know that you’re claimed.

🕷️- If it was your birthday, you can bet the whole mansion would be decorated and there would be a private jet awaiting you, ready to take you on a holiday resort.

[catmiemy]

Things Will Never Be the Same (Lia Wälti x Reader)

Summary: You figure out that your girlfriend hasn’t been paranoid and your best friend is actually in love with you.

A/N: Finally managed to finish something! I have so many ideas, but I'm constantly too busy to actually write them. But I'm hopeful to have more time the next few weeks.

Also I'm definitely going to write a part two for this because I need a happy ending. So if there's anything you want to see, please tell me. :)

“Where the hell is my coffee?”

Your girlfriend’s voice reached you through the bathroom door. Both the actual words and her tone made you frown at yourself in the mirror. Apparently someone had woken up on the wrong side of the bed again. Like most mornings these days.

With a sigh you went back to applying your make up. There was no point in arguing with Jessica when she was like this. Furthermore you had a long day ahead of you and didn’t feel like wasting your energy unnecessarily. It probably, no definitely, wasn’t a good sign that you reached a point where you thought of most interactions with your girlfriend as draining, but you weren’t ready to face that fact.

Unfortunately Jessica was determined to bring the argument to you. Only a few moments after her initial shout, the door crashed open and your girlfriend marched into the room. “Where the hell is my coffee?”

Annoyance flared up inside of you. You did your best to keep a grip on your anger though, this would turn ugly if you also lost your temper, well uglier than it was going to be anyway. You hated what had become of your relationship, but no matter how hard you tried, you continuously failed at turning things around. You used to be so happy, so in love.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were awake, otherwise I would have brought you your cup.” You tried your hardest to keep a neutral tone and an impartial expression, all the anger and pain you felt hidden behind this façade.

Bringing Jessica a cup of coffee in bed had been one of your favorite things early on in your relationship. Her eyes always lit up with sheer joy and an endless amount of love for you at this small gesture. Back then she never got tired of telling you how much it meant to her, how much she enjoyed these few minutes in bed with her favorite beverage and cuddles with you, because of course in the early days of your relationship you would always snuggle back into bed with her. Now it had become chore, which apparently you got yelled at for if you missed it once.

“I sent you a text to let you know!” Jessica pointed out sharply.

You grabbed your phone and sure enough, there was a message from her. You also noticed that you had forgotten to turn off the “Do not disturb”, but you doubted that Jessica would be receptive to this explanation. Another thing that you noticed was a message from your best friend, your teammate at both Arsenal and the national team, Lia.

I’m grabbing us some coffee.

See you at the airport!

These few words were enough to bring a smile to your face, another thing that didn’t sit right with Jessica. She snagged the phone out of your hand.

“Hey!” You protested, grabbing the phone back from her. It wasn’t hard, Jessica relented it easily once she had seen what had made you smile.

“When will you finally realize that she has a crush on you?” She basically spat at you.

 This was an old argument and one that always made your blood boil. Lia was off limits! However you didn’t have the time, or energy, for a full blown fight right now. So you restricted yourself to hissing at your girlfriend that she should really leave Lia out of this and that you would talk later. Then you pushed past her, grabbed your luggage that you had put next to the door, and left the apartment.

Unsurprisingly your uber wasn’t here yet. A quick glance at your watch revealed to you that you were a good ten minutes early. The thought of going back into your apartment and facing your girlfriend again was entirely unappealing, so you decided to stay out here. At least the weather was pleasant enough.

To avoid being seen by Jessica, which might have prompted her to come out and continue your argument, you moved a little further down the street until you were hidden behind some bushes. Standing there you were hit by the realization that this might be a new all time low for your relationship. And if you were being honest the idea that this was what the rest of your life was going to look like made you sick to your stomach. Better not to dwell on it.

The instance you entered the airport and spotted your best friend, you rushed over to her and flung your arms around her. Lia matched your motion, although a little awkwardly since she was holding two coffees.

“Hey Schätzi, is everything okay?” She asked you, worry dripping from her voice.

You nodded your head and allowed yourself to enjoy the closeness a little while longer, before extracting yourself.

“Fight with Jessica,” you mumbled.

Anger set Lia’s eyes ablaze. She bit her lips to avoid saying anything too harsh. It was no secret that the dislike between your best friend and your girlfriend was mutual. However Lia was much better at keeping civil than Jessica.

“I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”

This time you shook your head, “Nah, I don’t want to think about it right now.”

As was normally the case it didn’t take long before you told Lia everything nonetheless. When it came to her you never could keep silent, no matter how closed off you were with everyone else. Lia’s soothing and caring personality made you feel like it was okay to get it all out. And even if you would never admit it, you usually felt better afterwards.

Lia was a very attentive listener. Her gaze rested on you the entire time and she nodded along, keeping a mostly neutral complexion. If you would have focused on it, you could have easily picked up on the disdain for your girlfriend in your friend’s eyes, but you didn’t want to see it.

And anyway, the more you talked about it, the more explanations you found for Jessica’s behavior. She wasn’t a morning person, she always felt a bit lonely when you had to travel because of work, anger was her go to emotion when she was overwhelmed.

“You know I think I’m going to text her that I’m sorry and that we should talk in the evening,” you announced.

Lia looked at you skeptically, asking carefully, “Why are you apologizing?”

You shrugged your shoulders, finding it more difficult than expected to answer her question. Somehow you always felt like you had to apologize around Jessica. Again, this was something you didn’t want to dwell on.

“For yelling,” you said finally, before quickly changing the subject.

The arrival at camp and especially the reunion with all your teammates that you hadn’t seen in a long time was chaotic and easy to get lost in. Still you noticed that Lia was quieter and more reserve than usual and you promised yourself to question her about it before bed. With a pang of guilt you realized that you hadn’t even asked her how she was this morning at the airport, just instantly unloading all of your stuff onto her.

Dinner dredged on for quite some time and when it was finally finished you realized that both Lia and Ana were nowhere to be seen. First you checked the room Lia and you shared, when they weren’t there you headed to Ana’s room.

You stopped in your tracks when you heard sobbing coming from the room. It didn’t sound like someone having a little cry either, no this was desperate wailing and even before you knew who was in so much turmoil, your heart broke for the unknown person. That being said, the moment you realized who was sobbing their eyes out your heart shattered into a million pieces.

“I can’t do it anymore,” a voice that you recognized instantly as the one of your best friend in the whole world, managed to get out between sobs.

As if these words were pulling you into the room, your body began moving on its own accord. You burst into the room, frantically looking around for Lia, rushing to her side the moment you spotted her on the bed. She was wrapped in Ana’s arms, but this didn’t deter you. You simply threw your arms around both of them.

“What’s happening, Schätzi? Please tell me, what’s going on. If someone hurt you, I swear to god I will kill them!” You would! No one was allowed to hurt your best friend, not when she was the sweetest person on the planet.

To your immense surprise Lia went rigid the moment she heard your voice and felt your arms around her. This didn’t make any sense; you had always been each other’s place of comfort. You looked up at Ana questioningly, startling once again when you saw the anguish in her eyes. What had you missed? Had someone died? One of Lia’s parents?

While you were still trying to make sense of this all, Lia freed herself from both yours and Ana’s arms and with a mumbled apology ran out of the room. You jumped up as well, ready to go after her and get to the bottom of this, but Ana held you back.

“Don’t,” she told you earnestly.

“I…Ana, what the hell was that? Please, you need to tell me, so I can be there for Lia. I’m her best friend, I need…” You didn’t know exactly what you needed; just whatever would help you take away Lia’s pain. You had never seen her like this, not even after any of her breakups.

Ana chewed on her lip, the internal struggle happening in her mind clear as day. In the end she sighed and said, “I can’t, Y/N. I want to because I think it’s important that you know, but it’s not my story to tell. Give Lia a little time to calm down and then try talking with her again, yeah?”

You nodded, even if in reality you had already decided not to heed Ana’s advice. How could you not try finding Lia right this second when she was this devastated? More than anything you wanted to make it better for her and you had a lot of faith that you could. You had always been there for Lia, through everything, just like she had been for you.

Therefore you began searching for Lia everywhere. First you checked your hotel room, but unsurprisingly she wasn’t there. Then you went outside because Lia loved being outdoors when she felt emotional. Again, no luck. The next hour you spent looking through every nook, but Lia was nowhere to be found.

Defeated you went back to your hotel room, hoping she had returned there by now. You held your breath when you entered, disappointment hitting you when you were greeted by a dark and empty room.

You plopped down onto the bed, not even bothering to turn on the light despite it slowly getting dark. Where was Lia? And more importantly what had happened to her? You picked up your phone, debating if you should call someone from Lia’s family. Maybe they had some information.

That’s when your phone lit up with a call from Jessica, an unwelcome remainder that you were supposed to talk everything out with her tonight. However, you didn’t have the energy for that right now; especially not when it would mean you would have to grovel until Jessica finally deemed it enough to forgive you. Lia’s words popped up in your mind, why were you even apologizing?

So you ended up ignoring the call, and you also ignored that this would inevitably lead to an even more difficult conversation with even more groveling on your part. Right now you couldn’t worry about that, all of your concerns were taken up by the whole situation with Lia.

You had lost all sense of time, so you couldn’t say how much later it was when the door was finally opened and Lia tiptoed into the room. Instantly you sat up, startling your friend who had expected, hoped really, that you were already asleep.

By now it had become pitch black in the room, and you reached towards the light switch to turn on the lights. When Lia saw your movement, she asked you not to, her voice sounding horribly hoarse. You respected her wishes, instead getting up and walking over to her in an attempt to give her a hug.

“Don’t,” Lia pleaded, cracking your heart in the process

What was going on? What had you done to make her push you away? It physically pained you not to offer Lia any comfort when she was clearly struggling, but again you listened to her boundaries.

“Lia, please talk to me,” you begged, “Ana told me…”

Later you would try to rationalize what you did next, or didn’t do to be more precise, to yourself by saying you were too stunned to stop Lia once it became apparent that she thought you were going to say that Ana had told you what was bothering her, when really you wanted to say, ‘Ana told me to leave you alone for a while, but I can’t do that.’

However a small voice would always point out that you could have stopped her at any time if you had really wanted to. The thing was though, you wanted to know what was going on with Lia, so you didn’t stop her.

“I…look…I’m so sorry! And I promise I can keep my feelings in check. I’ve been doing it for the longest time, so please…I can’t lose you! I know you’ll never love me like I love you, but I still need you in my life. Please….I’m…”

Lia’s voice broke, sobs bubbling up instead. She suppressed them successfully, but there was nothing the midfielder could do against the quiet tears streaming down her cheeks.

By now you really were shocked into silence, your mind reeling. Was it possible that Jessica had been right all this time and Lia did in fact have a crush on you? No, that was crazy! Your best friend had never given any indication that she liked you like this. Or had she?

You looked up at Lia whose whole posture screamed defeat. Her head was bent, her gaze firmly trained on the floor. The brunette had crossed her arms in front of her as if to protect herself from whatever you were going to say.

“Wait what? You have a crush on me?” This was the rather dumb response you came up with.

Lia shrugged her shoulders helplessly, her voice tear-stricken when she spoke again, “I’m not sure if that word is strong enough for what I feel, but like I said, it doesn’t matter. I can deal with it.”

She looked up at you for a moment, but was unable to even meet your eyes. Panic hit you, no matter how much Lia stressed that this wouldn’t change anything, you weren’t too sure if this was true now that it was all out in the open. You couldn’t lose her!

“But wait? Didn’t Ana already tell you this?”

Lia’s question ripped you from your downward spiral and at least for a moment the fear was drowned out by intense shame.

“No, she didn’t. I was going to say she told me to leave you alone, but then you began explaining and I just didn’t stop you because I wanted to know what’s going on so I could help,” you admitted.

Now it all made sense why Lia hadn’t wanted to talk to you about what was bothering her. You wished that you could turn back time and make different choices, so you never found out about this. But you didn’t deserve that, not after basically tricking Lia into disclosing her secret.

“What?” Lia asked in anguish, “So I could’ve...You never had to…I’m so stupid!”

And with that your best friend turned around and fled from the room. The sobs she could no longer hold back shaking her shoulders, and breaking your heart. You deserved all the fear and shame and other complicated feelings that came with this being laid open, but Lia didn’t.

You sank back down onto your bed, staring numbly at the wall, while your mind was beating yourself up mercilessly. If only you hadn’t been so selfish! How did you never notice that the most important person in your entire life was in love with you? What did that say about you?!

There were no tears, just silence and an ever growing pit in your stomach.

When the room to the hotel room was opened again sometime later, a tiny flutter of hope went through you. Maybe you could find the right words and things could go back to how they had been straight away?

This small and probably completely unrealistic hope was crushed instantly when you saw that it wasn’t Lia but Ana entering the room. She rushed over to you, engulfing you in a hug.

“Hey, how are you?”

You didn’t answer Ana’s question, but allowed yourself a moment of burying yourself in your friend’s arms. And anyway it was impossible to reply when you didn’t even know how you were, if you were really still in that hotel room, if this was in fact your life.

After a short while you pulled back, sitting up straight and focusing on the truly important topic.

“How’s Lia?” You asked, fear tinting your words.

Ana took a few seconds to answer, pondering her words. The truth wasn’t pretty, so she wanted to do her best to soften the blow.

“Not too good,” she admitted finally. “There’s just too many emotions hitting her at once. I think up until now she still had some hope that you’d return her feelings. But now that it’s all out in the open these hopes have been crushed and she just needs some time.”

While talking Ana studied you carefully. She had always wondered if maybe you returned Lia’s feelings. Not that she had ever told her friend that, the poor girl didn’t need any more confusing thoughts and emotions to deal with. Part of her wanted to ask you straightforward, but in the end Ana decided against it. Now was not the time for it, not when it was clear that you too were completely overwhelmed with everything that had happened.  

For you the thought of Lia needing time, time apart from you, made you nauseous. There was barely a day where you didn’t see or at least talk to your best friend. A reality where that wasn’t true, even if it was only for a little while, felt unbearable. However you were well aware that you weren’t in a position to make any demands. If Lia needed time, you had to accept that.

“Nadine has agreed to switch rooms with Lia so that she can stay with me. Are you okay with that?”

Ana’s soft words pulled you from your thoughts. The idea of Lia not sleeping in the bed next to you felt like another punch to the stomach. Still you pushed down your emotions and the tears burning in your eyes, and nodded.

“Okay then,” Ana said, a little unsure on how to proceed. If only she could cut herself in half and offer both Lia and you some comfort!

You decided to make it easier for her by standing up and heading to the bathroom. There you gathered Lia’s vanity bag, handing it to Ana when you returned. After that you quickly assembled all the things your best friend would need for the night. Pain shooting through you with every familiar item you picked up.

“Goodnight, Ana,” you said once you had given her everything, before disappearing into the bathroom once again to get ready for bed yourself.

You did so in record time, wanting to be in bed and be able to pretend you were already sleeping when Nadine came to the room.

At least this worked out in your favor and when you heard the door being opened again, you pressed your eyes shut and didn’t react to your teammate’s soft calls. You probably weren’t very convincing, but thankfully Nadine decided to leave you alone.

Sleep evaded you for a long time. You lay there with closed eyes, silent tears rolling down your cheeks as you tried and failed to keep your mind occupied. But no matter what you did, it kept circling back to the horrible image of Lia’s devastation once she understood that she had just revealed her biggest secret to you, the gut-wrenching realization that everything would be different now, and the fear of losing Lia once and for all.

What if she would never be able to move past this? She had so many great friends in her life, Ana, Leah, Viv and so many more, what if she realized that they were much better than you anyway? You couldn’t imagine a life without Lia. The prospect of a few weeks without her was already enough to make you want to curl up in bed and never get up again. But if you never got her back? You couldn’t do that. You couldn’t.

[suzukiblu]

Day seven of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” behind the cut. tw: implications of past grooming/abuse and the inherent problems in someone who was in that situation trying to flirt with someone actually age-appropriate. prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“. . . ‘fast’,” Kon echoes awkwardly, glancing down at their hands. Tim tries not to wince. He definitely sounds like an idiot or a prude or–whatever. Just incredibly, incredibly uncool. 

He has actually never felt less like a prude since getting to know Kon well enough to notice things like how good the bastard looks soaked in Kool-Aid, but now is just . . . really not the time for thoughts like those, yeah. 

“I, uh–I’ve never actually, um . . . with anyone, actually. Guy or not,” Tim half-admits, though it feels stupid that being a virgin is something to admit instead of just a statement of fact. Normally it wouldn’t be, is the thing, but he just really doesn’t want Kon to think he sounds lame or antisocial or . . . whatever, exactly. “I actually would literally not even know how to, uh . . . give you ‘tips’ or anything. Unless I had like, the prep time to do some research, I mean. It’s just, uh–I don't date much, to be honest. Or, uh. Pretty much at all? Like, you're definitely more experienced than I am either, uh, either way, like that's just–I don't do much of this stuff. Any of it. I have in fact gone out with exactly two girls in my life and they both were definitely, um–also the ones who were making the moves and all.” 

It's not that he never want to make a move, just usually he's too busy being way too in his own head about it or something else entirely or–

God, he is rambling so much, Tim realizes, repressing a cringe when he realizes how blankly Kon’s currently staring at him. Because it is very, very blankly, that Kon is staring at him. 

Crap. 

“Uh,” Tim says with a grimace. “Sorry. Um. If you were expecting something . . . faster, I mean.” 

Kon should definitely not have anything that fast if he’s thinking of himself as a product, Tim’s basically positive, but also that’s actually not any of his damn business, but also he definitely needs to look into Kon’s dating history just to add a few names to his list for when he finally goes supervillain and just maybe look into–

. . . Kon is still just staring blankly at him. 

Tim fails to repress the cringe this time. 

“Uh,” he attempts again. “Kon? Are you . . .?” 

Kon turns literally crimson and ducks his head, but also doesn’t actually stop staring at him. 

. . . alright then, Tim thinks. 

“I do like you. I like you a lot. Like–I like-like you a lot, if I have somehow managed to not be embarrassingly obvious about that at this point,” he tries, borderline flailing in the conversation now since Kon is apparently no longer willing to use his words and he was already not doing that great with it when Kon was using his words, and he can’t even talk with his hands or anything because he’s holding Kon’s hands like an actual grade schooler, except probably no one ever has held Kon’s hands like–no, no, he is not far enough down the supervillain pipeline to be able to finish that thought process and deal with the psychological consequences of having to not burn down the system about it, he really cannot do that at any point in the next ten to fifteen years whatsoever. “This isn't–I'm just–it's not me not wanting to . . . take some pictures, eventually. Just . . . maybe we could wait a bit on it. Stick with the streets and buildings for a little while longer, maybe?” 

He tries for a smile and also tries not to cringe again over how weak an attempt it feels like, and then has the uneasy and uncomfortable thought that actually doing anything like that isn’t even really–is that ethical, even? Even the idea of doing something like that? Kon doesn’t really know Robin all that well, no, but they’re on the same team and the same side, and they’re teammates and at least arguably friends, and Kon also doesn’t know he is Robin, and– 

“Um,” Kon says, his hands tightening just a bit around Tim’s and his face still blazingly and borderline inhumanly red as his head ducks a little lower and his mouth curves into what is, in fact, the most unfairly soft smile that Tim has ever seen on the bastard’s face. “We could do that, yeah.” 

Tim was thinking about something, probably? Which hopefully wasn’t something important, considering just how ruthlessly Kon just fried his brain out of his head. Which is not even reasonable or logical, because all Kon did was . . . well, imply he was fine taking things at Tim’s pace and not actually going to get immediately bored if he didn’t put out and was actually interested in just being together, and also did it while smiling at him like that. 

Alright, fine, Tim knows exactly why his stupid brain got itself fried. He’s still apparently embarrassingly easy, though. 

Well, that’s not exactly new information in regards to Kon anyway. 

[atlasofoverthinking]

The Problem with the League of Villains

this is just me ranting after reading many people say that the lov deserved a better ending (i agree with them don't worry). most of that stuff has already been said but i'm bored and need something to write

so why is everyone disappointed?

by definition, an antagonist is someone that goes against the main character(s) and a villain is someone who does immoral and/or illegal things (wow, shocking)

so by definition, the league of villains is aptly named. shigaraki and dabi are mass murderers, toga is a killer too, and even if the others are 'less dangerous' they're all guilty of terorism and kidnapping a teenager.

not nice, right? then why would anyone would want them to have a good ending?

long story short: horikoshi made the league too sympathetic and relatable

when horikoshi has decided to make them funny, he's decided to make them likeable. that's not enough though. you can find a fictional villain funny and not root for them (for some reason the examples that comes to my mind are the disney villains. captain hook is hilarious but no one wants him to win)

the cause of everyone's disappointment is the relatable part. everyone in the league has gone through stuff viewers can relate. touya, shigaraki and toga have been abused; twice has mental health issues (and stuggling to get a job is relatable too lmao); spinner has been discriminated against... you get the idea

and even without knowing their backstory, most of the league's fights can be considered noble: they want to change society and make the world a better place. to take a more precise example, the league kidnapped bakugou because they thought he had gone through similar struggle as them

(this is mr compress talking in chapter 85) as far as i've seen, most of the fandom either think bakugou being chained and muzzled at the end of the sport festival was just comic relief or agree that it was fucked up

so yeah, you can't put a group of people rejected by society, who just want a better world and expect people to not like them

and that's why their ending is disappointing (the rest contains heavy spoilers of the last few chapters of mha)

they're all either in jail or six feet underground. we rationally could understand it, they're all criminals/villains so of course they wouldn't get a happy ending and face consequences for their actions. the only one who could have gotten away with it is shigaraki because of all the grooming/brainwashing he's gone through and maybe toga because she's a child

but if you relate to a character, you want them to get a happy ending. of course fans would want dabi to be at peace, but instead he's forced to spend his last moments being stared at by his abuser). of course fans would want shigaraki to be free from afo (but instead his only freedom was death). of course fans would want toga to be understood and cared for (but she never had that opportunity)

that's not very 'save to win' out of you horikoshi

maybe it's just a shortcut made by the fandom, but the league are seen more as victims of abuse than actual criminals. i mean, what's more important in dabi's story? the fact that he burned himself alive after overworking himself to get his abusive father's attention, or the fact that he's burned people alive? probably both, but there's more focus on the first element.

and obviously we would want abuse victims to get a happy ending

basically, their ending isn't coherent with what we've seen of them, and that's why people are disappointed

btw, the same logic applies to stain. some fans agree with stain's reasoning bc he's fighting against corruption. of course, his logic is stupid and he's delusional but he's introduced not long after we've discovered shouto's past. you can't say "one of the most popular heroes is abusing + all he wants is to get n°1 to satisfy his own ego" and then follow with "see that guy fighting against corruption? he's bad, don't do that"

the clever way to make sure no one would agree with stain would have been to make the heroes fight against injustice with good methods. i live for the fanfics in which izuku takes down the hpsc

okay i'm done ranting thanks for reading