#i joke. this is last one! Thanks for reading ^^

[fear-less]

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 she ignored my letter!

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, James writes you a love letter and hides it into your luggage carrying your clothes, not knowing he put it in a pocket you never open.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever)

a/n: heyyy... i had sm fun writing this, can't wait to write the rest of this bc i literally LOVE anne with an e and this is inspired by it ofc!!!! anyways, im barely writing now..smh, its cause im reading manacled and its literally heart breaking... im also editing on ae and its so hard so im slowly learning😭 but i want to finish this mini series by next week!!

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

James had liked you for a while now. He wasn’t quite sure when it started—maybe it was the way you laughed at his jokes, always the loudest in the room. Or perhaps it was when he’d catch you staring at him, your gaze lingering just a bit too long, thinking he was too distracted to notice.

With the Christmas holidays fast approaching, James knew he had to make a move. He had to let you know how he felt. If you didn’t feel the same, maybe the time apart over the holiday would make it less awkward. But he couldn’t let another term slip by in silence.

Knowing your love for all things old-fashioned, James decided there was no better way to confess his feelings than through a handwritten letter. It felt personal, genuine—something you’d appreciate. But writing it turned out to be harder than he imagined.

He’d written and discarded at least a dozen drafts, each one crumpled and tossed aside in frustration. Finally, after half an hour of agonizing over the perfect words, he settled on this version. It was short, straightforward, and sincere:

Dear, (Y/N)

I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a complete idiot. I’ve tried a hundred times, and every single attempt has been worse than the last. So here’s the truth—I’m hopelessly in love with you.

You’ve probably guessed I’m not great at being subtle. But what I’ve never been able to say outright is how much you mean to me. The way you laugh, the way your nose scrunches when you’re concentrating—Merlin, you make it impossible to focus on anything else. I want you to know that you’ve made me braver, happier, better. If you don’t feel the same, that’s okay—I just needed to get this off my chest.

Yours, James

He sighed deeply, folding the letter carefully before slipping it into an envelope. Your name was written on the front in his slightly shaky handwriting. Taking a steadying breath, he tucked it into the inside pocket of his robes. He’d leave it somewhere you’d find it tomorrow, just before you both left for the holidays.

As he lay awake that night, James tried to figure out the best way to deliver the letter. Should he hand it to you directly? No, that was too nerve-wracking—he’d probably end up babbling like an idiot. Maybe he could slip it into your bag and avoid the risk of witnessing your reaction.

The morning was crisp, the kind of cold that painted your cheeks red and sent little clouds of breath swirling in the air. On the platform, the train sat waiting, puffing out plumes of steam that mingled with the frosty air. It was alive with the sound of students saying goodbye and dragging their luggage over the cobblestones.

James walked beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He was doing his best to appear casual, though every step he took felt heavier with the weight of the letter in his robe.

“Let me take that for you,” he blurted suddenly, nodding toward your luggage.

You blinked, surprised by the offer, but your lips curved into a warm smile. “Oh, thanks, James. That’s really sweet of you.”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but his ears turned a telltale shade of pink at your words. “What kind of bloke would I be if I didn’t help you out?” he mumbled, his voice tinged with nervous humor.

The two of you chatted as you strolled toward the train. You told him about your plans for the holidays—how you were excited to see your family, how your mum always made far too much food, and how you couldn’t wait to decorate the tree. James listened intently, nodding and laughing at all the right moments, even as his mind raced ahead to the task at hand.

Then, his opportunity came.

You turned away for a brief moment, waving at one of your friends across the platform. James acted quickly, pulling the envelope from his pocket and slipping it into the outermost compartment of your bag. His fingers brushed the fabric for only a second, but it felt like an eternity.

His heart was hammering so loudly he was certain it could be heard over the clamor of the platform. He straightened up just as you turned back to him, completely oblivious to what had just transpired.

“Thanks again for carrying that,” you said with a smile, your eyes meeting his.

James gave a small, lopsided grin and shifted your bag on his shoulder. “Anytime,” he replied, his voice steady despite the storm of nerves swirling inside him.

As the train’s whistle blew, signaling it was time to board, James knew there was no turning back now. All he could do was wait—and hope that when you found the letter, you’d read it and understand the words that had taken him so long to say.

It had been days since you’d left for the holidays, and James still hadn’t heard from you. Each passing day only worsened the sinking feeling in his chest.

Did you not feel the same? Did you hate him for ruining the friendship? Or worse, were you so disgusted by his confession that you couldn’t even bear to send him a letter saying so?

By Christmas morning, the knot of worry in James’s stomach had become unbearable. He’d stopped pacing and pretending not to care. He spent the early hours staring at the window, waiting for an owl that seemed as though it would never come.

But then, just as the first rays of sunlight streamed through his frosted window, he saw it—a familiar owl perched outside, clutching a small envelope in its talons. His heart leapt with a desperate flicker of hope. Maybe you’d only just found the letter. Maybe you’d taken your time because you wanted to write something perfect.

James hurried to open the window, shivering as the cold air rushed in. The owl extended its leg, allowing him to untie the letter. “Thanks, mate,” James murmured, absently offering the owl a treat before it flew off into the winter sky.

His fingers trembled as he opened the envelope, eager to see your handwriting. But his heart sank the moment he read the first line.

“Happy Christmas, James!”

No mention of his letter. No response to his confession. Just a short, cheerful note wishing him a wonderful holiday and apologizing for not writing sooner. You explained that things had been hectic at home and promised to catch up with him soon.

James felt his chest tighten, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. The hope he’d been clinging to was slipping through his fingers.

You’d ignored his letter.

You’d chosen to act as though he’d never written it at all, as if he’d never poured his heart out on that piece of parchment.

James scoffed, his grip on the letter tightening. Fine, he thought bitterly. If you were going to pretend his confession didn’t exist, he could do the same.

He shoved the letter onto his desk, glaring at it as if it were the source of his frustration. Deep down, though, he knew the truth: he didn’t want to ignore you. He wanted to write back, to ask if you’d found the letter, to make sure you weren’t upset with him.

But pride was a stubborn thing, and James Potter wasn’t about to let his vulnerability show again—not now.

As the snow fell softly outside his window, James sat in silence, staring at the letter and wondering if he’d made a mistake by ever writing to you in the first place.

When it was time to return to Hogwarts, James made no effort to find you. Normally, he’d scan the platform, pretending it was a coincidence whenever his eyes landed on you. This time, he couldn’t bring himself to look.

He saw you anyway, just briefly—standing near your family, your face lit up with that familiar smile. His heart leaped in his chest, and his legs almost betrayed him, ready to stride over and say something, anything. But he stopped himself.

Instead, James turned sharply, mumbling a quick goodbye to his parents before heading onto the train. He didn’t want to see you—not now.

The walk through the train felt heavier than usual. He knew exactly where his friends would be—the same compartment they’d claimed since their first year—but it felt like an eternity to get there. When he finally slid open the door, the familiar faces of Sirius, Remus, and Peter greeted him.

“Oi, Prongs!” Sirius called cheerfully, but his grin faltered when James slumped onto the seat next to Peter with a loud huff.

James leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. He could feel Sirius’s gaze on him, curious and probing.

“What’s got your wand in a knot?” Sirius asked, unable to resist.

“Don’t.” James’s voice was sharp, firm. It was rare for him to be in a foul mood, let alone snappish.

Sirius raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I won’t say a word.”

The tension in the compartment was palpable. The train rattled on, and the usual chatter of the four friends was noticeably absent. Sirius kept stealing glances at James, who sat brooding, arms crossed. Peter fidgeted nervously, while Remus flipped through a book, clearly uncomfortable with the silence.

Finally, about an hour into the ride, James broke.

“She ignored my letter.” His voice was low, bitter, but it shattered the quiet like a hex.

The others exchanged looks before Peter spoke hesitantly. “She really ignored it?”

“Yes, Peter,” James snapped, his tone sharp enough to make Peter flinch. Realizing what he’d done, James sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” Peter mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

“Maybe she didn’t see it,” Remus offered, his tone calm and rational. “What if it got lost in her luggage? Or someone else found it and hid it? Maybe you gave her another piece of parchment? There’s always a chance—”

“Moony, no.” James cut him off, his voice strained. “I double-checked. It was the right letter, in the right spot. And who doesn’t check their trunk full of clothes over the holiday?”

“Maybe she doesn’t,” Sirius said with a shrug, trying to lighten the mood. “You know, women can be unpredictable. Maybe she’s got a secret stash for random letters in her trunk.”

“No, she checks,” James said with certainty. “I’ve slipped plenty of things into her luggage before, and she’s always found them. She just doesn’t fancy me back.” His voice cracked slightly at the end, but he forced a small, bitter smile. “And it’s fine. I’ll get over it. I always do, right?”

The compartment fell silent again, the weight of James’s words sinking in.

Sirius leaned forward, a flicker of frustration in his eyes. “It’s not fine, James. If she didn’t fancy you back, that’s one thing. But ignoring you? That’s—”

“Don’t,” James interrupted quietly, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Don’t make it worse, Padfoot.”

Sirius bit back a retort and leaned back in his seat, muttering under his breath.

The rest of the ride passed more comfortably, but the shadow of James’s disappointment lingered. His friends cracked jokes and told stories, trying to lift his spirits, but even when he laughed, it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Deep down, James wondered if he’d ever stop wishing that you’d read his letter and felt the same way.

Hours later, everyone had gathered in the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling reflected the dusky evening sky, and the buzz of students catching up after the holiday filled the room. Normally, James would sit with Sirius to his left, you to his right, and Remus and Peter across from him. It was a familiar arrangement, one you’d fallen into without question.

But tonight, James broke the routine.

He subtly nudged Peter into the spot on his right before sitting down, leaving the space where you’d usually sit conspicuously empty.

You walked in a moment later, scanning the Gryffindor table until you spotted your usual group. But when you approached, your steps faltered. Peter sat where you always did, looking apologetic but saying nothing.

Your eyes darted to James, silently questioning him, but he avoided your gaze, his attention fixed stubbornly on his plate.

Confused, you looked to Remus for an explanation. Out of all the Marauders, he was the one you trusted most to give you a straight answer. But Remus only shrugged, his expression carefully neutral, though the twitch at the corner of his mouth hinted at discomfort.

You scoffed, your chest tightening. First, James ignored you all through the holiday, and now he didn’t even want to sit near you? Fine. If he wanted to sulk like a child, you weren’t going to beg for his attention.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked further down the table, sliding into a seat beside your other group of friends. You forced yourself to laugh at their jokes and join in their chatter, but your mind kept wandering back to James.

At the Gryffindor table, James���s eyes flicked toward you more often than he’d admit. Every time he saw you laughing with your friends, his stomach twisted.

“Why is she acting like I’m the one in the wrong?” James muttered under his breath, jabbing at a piece of roast potato with his fork.

“Maybe because you’re acting like a prat?” Sirius replied, his tone laced with amusement as he leaned closer.

James shot him a glare.

“Look, Prongs,” Sirius continued, dropping the teasing. “She doesn’t know what’s going on. You didn’t even give her a chance to explain, and now you’re sulking like a first-year who lost his chocolate frog cards.”

“Explain what? She ignored my letter, Padfoot. What’s there to explain?” James hissed, though his tone lacked its usual conviction.

Remus sighed, setting down his goblet. “Did it ever cross your mind that maybe she doesn’t even know what letter you’re talking about?”

James froze, his fork hovering mid-air.

“Just talk to her, mate,” Sirius said, giving James a nudge. “Or don’t. But if you keep this up, you’re only making it worse—for both of you.”

James huffed, slumping back in his seat. The truth was, he didn’t know if he had it in him to face you just yet.

From across the hall, you caught the way James’s shoulders sagged, and for a brief moment, you considered walking over. But pride held you in place. If James wanted to act like this, fine. Two could play that game.

You and James hadn’t spoken in what felt like weeks. The once effortless connection you shared had been replaced with an awkward silence that weighed heavily on you. It wasn’t just James—it felt like the whole group of Marauders had grown distant, their usual antics and inside jokes missing their spark when you were around.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d done something to upset him. But what? You racked your brain for answers, replaying every interaction from the past few months. James had always been one of your closest friends—why was he acting so strange?

Charms class was the hardest part of it all. You always sat beside James, sharing notes, exchanging whispers, and stifling laughs when Professor Flitwick wasn’t looking. Now, you sat in the same spot, the chair next to you glaringly empty.

You tried to focus on the professor’s instructions, but your thoughts were louder than his voice. Scribbling aimlessly in your notebook, you hardly noticed when someone approached your desk.

“Are you alright?”

Startled, you looked up to see a boy with a blue-and-bronze tie standing beside you. His face was vaguely familiar—you’d seen him around in class but had never spoken to him.

“Yeah—yes, I’m fine,” you stammered, blinking in confusion. Why was he talking to you?

He gave a polite, slightly amused smile. “Well, can you move your stuff? I’m sitting here now. We’re partners for the project.”

“Oh!” Heat rose to your cheeks as you hurriedly shoved your books to one side. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize.”

“No worries,” he said, settling into the chair beside you. “I figured you weren’t paying attention—no offense. But I was, so I’ll explain what Professor Flitwick said.”

You managed a small smile, relieved by his casual tone. “Thanks. That’s… helpful.”

While he began outlining the project details, your focus wavered, glancing at James out of the corner of your eye. He was across the room, seated next to a loud and enthusiastic partner who seemed to be trying desperately to get his attention. But James wasn’t listening.

His gaze was fixed on you.

There was a flicker of something in his expression—jealousy, maybe? Regret? Whatever it was, it made your stomach twist.

You quickly turned your attention back to your new partner, nodding along to his explanation, even if you weren’t entirely listening. You felt James’s eyes on you the entire time, but you refused to look back.

Across the room, James’s jaw clenched. His partner waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his trance.

“Oi, Potter! Are you even listening?”

“Huh? Yeah, sure,” James muttered, though his eyes drifted back to you moments later.

He hated this—seeing someone else sitting beside you, making you smile when that used to be his seat, his job. But he didn’t know how to fix it. The letter. The silence. The way he’d avoided you. It all felt too big now, too messy to undo.

Still, James couldn’t stop watching you, his heart sinking further with every laugh you shared with your new partner.

enjoyed? check out my navigation

taglist!! @zowiiiisblog , @kxnnxy , @rainingleaves , @icollectrubberduckies , @elsie-bells

[infiniteglitterfall]

crib sheet for those not in the know:

the subtext of these twitter comments is that any mention of Israel, of places in Israel, or of going to Israel, is "Zionist propaganda"

Therefore, calling a Jewish-Indian household "Jaipur-Aviv" is Bad because it mentions Tel Aviv, a city built entirely from unoccupied desert land purchased by Jews.

this comes from the idea that acting as if Israel exists is immoral (i.e. that tolerating Israel's existence is violent colonialism)

There's no other country on earth that anyone considers it immoral or violent to mention

There isn't a movement against acknowledging or having visited the United States, Canada, England, Russia, Iran, Afghanistan, etc.

Zio is a KKK dogwhistle popularized by David Duke forty years ago. Using it makes it more difficult for others to recognize and avoid white supremacists -- and often means that you're not recognizing and avoiding white supremacists.

I've watched every episode of Friends ten times at a minimum. I am not exaggerating. I feel pretty safe in stating point-blank that nobody at any point even utters the word "Israel" on that show.

Also, Rachel is not Jewish. I am kinda dying to know what the fuck that person thought the "Zionist connotations" in their relationship were.

WAIT A MINUTE STOP THE PRESSES. RACHEL IS JEWISH!??!!!

lmao this is killing me, I used to be so sure she was Jewish and then I googled it and people said she wasn't!

The nose job subplot read as an intentionally Jewish regional reference; Rachel refers to her grandma as her bubbe; the show's creators have said she's Jewish; she had been going to marry Barry Farber, who is "definitely Jewish;" her last name is Green, "a common 'Americanized' Jewish name;" she apparently wears a star of David I've never spotted in episode 3; and also, her name is Rachel.

Okay well, thanks to the borderline Nazis up there for teaching me that Rachel actually IS Jewish! I knew I needed to rewatch the series!

Bonus: they don't say Israel, but they DO say Israeli once.

The Big Bang Theory apparently had an episode called The Jerusalem Duality, in which "Sheldon applies himself to winning the Nobel Peace Prize for solving the Middle East crisis by creating a second wailing wall (also called the 'Western Wall') in the Mexican desert. Dr. Gablehauser and Dennis Kim stop by. Sheldon explains his concept to them; convinced that, like the baseball movie 'build it and they will come', adding that he plans to lure the Jewish people by 'making it nice...we'll put out a spread'."

The only real references Big Bang Theory makes to Israel are, again, in the "acknowledging it exists and being willing to go there" genre:

The Nanny had a lot of topical political jokes. In one episode, Fran Drescher says, "Yasser Arafat? ...He could use a facial, or better yet a chemical peel. We're already giving him the Gaza Strip, would it kill him to take a shave?"

Weirdly, this was 8 years before Israel did unilaterally pull out of the Gaza Strip and destroy all its settlements there.

Regardless, this is more a joke about her character being overly focused on appearances and fashion. Especially given that she simultaneously gets corrected on the fact that Arafat wore a burnous, not a turban.

There's also a 1995 episode in which Maxwell wants to get his teenage daughter "away from boys" by sending her to a convent over the winter holidays. Fran strongly disagrees about the convent, but does think a trip would be good for Maggie, like her own teenage trip to a kibbutz had been. The whole family ends up going to a kibbutz, which I can only imagine the people in that thread would consider to be pure "hasbara."

Seinfeld, though, is by far the best reference they make here. Because this is a quote from the 1992 episode "The Limo":

This is the only "Zionist" reference I can find in Seinfeld. So it's the most likely thing these folks are objecting to as "Zionism" in Seinfeld episodes.

ZOG, or Zionist Occupied Government, is another huge white supremacist term that has made its way into the extreme part of the pro-palestine movement. The founder of Students for Justice in Palestine has also publicly stated that "Congress is an Israeli occupied territory."

Wow. I learned a lot more than I expected to there.

according to the replies on this tweet literally every tv show has Zionist Propaganda™️ so i guess the hamasniks are just going to have to twiddle their thumbs for entertainment

edit: some of the nonsense from the replies

do not call yourself progressive or inclusive or revolutionary or anticolonial or whatever other fucking “I’m A Good Person” label de jour you’ve chosen if you say shit like this. you cannot talk like a Nazi and then insist you’re just an antizionist.

[solarhysm]

DUST OF US - 06

> synopsis: 7 years ago Y/N broke Jungkook’s heart when she decided to end their relationship without an explanation. When they meet again at a friend's wedding, after almost a decade, Jungkook needs answers to move on.

> pairing: Jungkook x reader

> genre: romance, ex to lovers au

> warnings: explicit languages, violence, smut, cheating, nsfw, angst, +18 minors dni !!

> word count: 4.6k

*french writer, i apologize in advance for my awful english!

If this is a dream, Jungkook doesn’t want to wake up. His eyes never leave your face as you tell him a story about you and your friends. After that kiss, you both decided to take a walk along the shore. Jungkook knows you’ve always liked the feeling of sand under your feet, even in the cold. He carries your boots, happy to do so, while you walk beside him, occasionally digging your toes into the sand.

He thought you would reject him when he kissed you out of nowhere. But you didn’t. Now, all he wants is to kiss you again. He’s dying to. But he doesn’t want to push his luck. If you want to kiss him, you will. He hopes you will. His eyes drop to your hand, brushing against his with every step. His fingers twitch. Not yet. Play it cool.

As if reading his mind, you hand him the bottle of soju you’ve been sharing, giving him something to do with his hands. He takes a sip and nods, silently thanking you.

“And Hwan ended up covered in Hyesun’s last meal,” you laugh, but he hasn’t been paying attention to the story. Jungkook is just smiling at the sound of your laughter. “But she’s a good friend. Even after Hyesun threw up on her, she kept taking care of her.”

“You’re pretty,” Jungkook whispers, and you freeze, eyes widening.

“I—You can’t say stuff like that out of nowhere,” you mumble, looking away to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks.

Jungkook has always said what’s on his mind, whether people liked it or not. And you know that. Once you’re far enough from the nightclubs and prying eyes, the two of you sit on the sand, staring at the shore.

“Alright,” you sigh, pulling a plastic bag between you. “We’ve gotta finish all of this before the sun rises.” You challenge him, and he smirks.

“Easy.”

A soft smile stretches across his lips as he watches you take out two beers and another bottle of soju. You clink your drinks together and take a sip.

“I’m surprised you didn’t make friends in Japan,” you say, breaking the silence.

“I did, actually,” Jungkook replies, burying the bottom of his beer bottle in the sand. He pulls his legs against his chest and takes a deep breath. “Kentaro is visiting me next month. If you behave, I’ll introduce him to you.”

You roll your eyes playfully, licking your lips. His big brown eyes follow the way your tongue traces your lips before he looks away. He knows you want to ask something, and he tilts his head, encouraging you.

“Stop that,” you groan, and he chuckles.

“You want to ask me about girls?”

“I never said that,” you retort, hiding behind your beer.

“You don’t need to. It’s written all over your face,” Jungkook laughs, stretching out. “What about you?”

He likes that he can still read you so easily.

“You didn’t answer,” you say, tilting your head in his direction.

“Hm... I had my fair share of girls, to be honest. But not in the first couple of years.”

“Really?”

“Hm.” He hums again. “Wait, are we talking about serious relationship?”

“All type.” You reply, leaning on your elbows.

“I had… two serious relationships. And a bunch of flings. Mostly flings actually. The heart wasn’t there for more.”

“Two?” You ask like it’s all you keep in mind.

“Yeah. You and a girl named Hina,” Jungkook nods, watching as you draw shapes in the sand. “And you?”

“No one since you. I mean, I had a few flings. And some one-night stands,” you say, and he arches a brow, surprised and amused.

“Look at that. Didn’t you become a bold one?” He jokes. “What a shame, a pretty girl like you, still single.”

“Shut up,” you chuckle, nudging his shoulder. “Maybe that’ll change. I’m sort of in a situationship right now. He wants more.”

“And you?”

“I don’t know. He’s nice.” You shrug, and Jungkook frowns.

“Nabi, don’t force yourself. I mean... who am I to give advice, right?” He laughs awkwardly before turning to look at you. “But I want you to be happy. And if you’re not sure that guy can give you what you want, don’t date him.”

“If I’m being honest...” You pause, and Jungkook gives you his full attention, sitting up straighter. “I’m scared to end up alone. I’m too... complicated. Most of the guys I had after you hated my attitude. But Baekhyun? He just embraces it. He supports me, accepts that I’m not ready to date, and waits for me.”

“That’s not enough. You shouldn’t accept the bare minimum,” Jungkook says, and you shake your head. “You deserve someone who’ll worship you.”

“Easy for you to say. Girls have been chasing you since we were teens.”

“Not the one I want,” he whispers, looking down at his beer as your eyes fall on his side profile. “you’re hard to live with, you’re stubborn with a big mouth and a taste for fights, I won’t deny that.” Jungkook teases and you slap his shoulder "But I also know that once you love, you give everything. If a man can’t get past your tough shell, he doesn’t deserve your love."

"Since when did you become a psychologist?"

"Tonight," he jokes. "Give me one more hour and a few beers, and I’ll be able to read your palm." He grins as you smile. "But I’m serious. Don’t settle for Baekhyun if you think he’s just convenient or your last option. Agreeing with everything you say? That’s not love."

You roll your eyes, making him smile wider.

"Then find me a guy who can handle me," you challenge playfully. Jungkook smirks, gesturing to himself. You laugh, shaking your head. "You should hate me."

"I don’t."

"I said you should." You lift a finger in the air, and he chuckles.

"Who’s Baekhyun, anyway?" Jungkook asks teasingly, his shoulder bumping into yours.

"You’ve met him," you muse, tilting your head to meet his gaze. "My assistant. The other tattoo artist."

"What?" Jungkook gasps playfully. "That kid? How old is he, eighteen?"

"Stop!" You laugh, punching his arm. "He’s twenty-three."

"I always knew you liked them young. I mean, I’m younger—"

"I’m older by a few weeks!"

"Cougar," Jungkook teases, and you roll your eyes. He won’t lie—he’s seen Baekhyun, and something about him seemed off. Or maybe it’s just jealousy because that kid has you and he doesn’t. "Do you change his diapers, too?"

"I’m done with this conversation," you huff, turning your head away while Jungkook bursts into laughter.

"Come on, Nabi, I’m just joking."

And yet, Jungkook is wondering if that Baekhyun knows you as much as he did once upon a time. Does he know that you hate to sleep on the right side of the bed? Or how you have a hard time focusing if there’s too much people around you, how you hate wearing nails polish. Does he know how to make those pretty sounds come out of your mouth when you’re in bed? And mostly, does he know how you love and the look you used to give him? Do you give the same look to that kid?

"Do you remember the last time we were at a beach in Busan?" you ask suddenly.

"Before we left for Seoul," Jungkook says softly, his eyes falling to his hands around his beer.

"We talked about the future," you add, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"I remember." Jungkook nods, his gaze following yours to the shore. "A big house, two kids, a cat, and a dog."

"Hm." You smile, pressing your lips together. His eyes drift back to your face. "Where would we be if… we had stayed together?"

"Married, for sure," Jungkook replies, finishing his beer. "Maybe you’d be pregnant with our first baby."

The thought makes you smile, and Jungkook’s lips curl into a soft smile too. He’s imagined it so many times—how beautiful you’d look with a round belly, glowing with happiness.

"Or maybe we’d be right where we are now," you say, taking a sip of your drink. "Maybe we were meant to be apart."

"I don’t believe that," Jungkook says, almost too quickly. "Our story wasn’t over."

"What makes you so sure?" you ask, arching a brow and Jungkook clenches his jaw, turning his attention to you.

"I didn’t fight for us because you disappeared that day. But I wanted to," he admits, and you chuckle bitterly.

"That’s why I disappeared." You shrug like it’s nothing. "I knew if I saw you again, you’d try to fix things, and I’d give in."

"That’s why you just… left our apartment and changed your number?" he frowns, and you nod, biting the inside of your cheek. He hates how casually you say it, like it didn’t tear him apart.

He hated that place without you in it. He hated that your left side of the bed still smelled like you even after he changed the sheets, how he could still hear you humming in the kitchen like you were cooking for both or how the couch felt cold without you cuddling against him during your movie nights.

"Do you even know… how it felt to come home and find our place half-empty?”  He starts before hardly swallowing. “How I had to sleep in a bed that still smelled like you for weeks before I gave the keys back to the landlord? Fuck, Nabi… Do you have any idea how hard it was to live without you when I was so used to having you around all the time?" Jungkook shakes his head, hiding his face in his hands. "I thought it was the end of the world."

His admission makes you blink a few times as you look down, and Jungkook suddenly feels guilty when he sees you wiping your cheek.

“I’m sorry.” You say with a little voice. “I’m sorry…I – I thought you’d be better off without me."

“Says who?” He frowns, upset, shaking his head. “I was better with you.”

"I didn’t want to leave you," you admit before your emotions overwhelm you, and tears spill from your eyes, making Jungkook freeze. What is he supposed to do now? He didn’t mean to make you cry. He just wanted to have a good evening with you, but now you’re sobbing. What an idiot. "I never wanted to leave you."

"Y/N…"

 “I –“ You swallow a sob. “I did it for you.” You shake your head and he frowns a little while you wipe your cheeks and take a deep breath.

"How… breaking up with me…?" Jungkook whispers, unable to finish his sentence.

He hates seeing you cry, but he knows that if he tries to comfort you, you would just push him away.

“I…I tried to help you.” You pinch your lips together. “That university in Tokyo accepted you. You were going to waste that opportunity just to stay with me."

Jungkook’s frown deepens. He never told you he was going to turn down the offer in Tokyo. And like you read his mind you let out a watery chuckle.

“I heard your conversation with Jimin.” you explain, and Jungkook freezes, a wave of anger rising inside him. “I couldn’t let you refuse that to work as a simple cashier, Kook. I couldn’t let you waste your life for me.”

Jungkook lets out a sour chuckle before getting up, his fists clenched at his sides. All this time, he thought that he did something wrong. All this time he thought that you left him because he said something that hurt you enough to breaking up with him.

“And who are you to decide for me?” He almost spits as you stay sitting on the sand, looking at him. “We were a team, remember? We were supposed to talk about it. Make it work!”

“Jungkook.” You say softly, getting on your knees but he takes a step back.

"All this time…" he mutters, shaking his head as a sob escapes. "Fuck... All this time, I thought it was my fault."

"I’m sorry."

"Sorry won’t fix seven wasted years!" he barks, and you struggle to get up, both of you drunk.

"Kook…"

"No." He shakes his head, wiping his face. "I fucking loved you with everything I had. I wanted to spend my life with you, build a future with you. If you had just talked to me, we could’ve made it work! You were the only one I ever listened to."

“Jungkook.” You repeat as you try to reach his hand but he takes another step back. “How was that supposed to work?” You frown and he rolls his eyes, looking away. “You were about to live new experiences. I would’ve been the girlfriend stuck in your hometown. How long would it have taken before you left me?"

"Don’t twist this into being my fault, Y/N," he warns, jaw clenched. "The distance, the new experiences—that’s bullshit, and you know it."

“I know that you needed your freedom.” You bite back and his teeth close on his tongue to not say something hurtful. “That’s why I didn’t want to reconnect with you. I knew how all of this would end.” You mumble, gathering your stuff and he can clearly see how hurt you are.

“I needed you.” He says more softly, but you don’t listen, tying your hair into a ponytail before catching your witch hat. “Nabi.” He stops you, standing right behind you.

"I get it, Jungkook. I do," you say without looking at him, trying to hold back tears, but he can hear the quiver in your voice. You're close to breaking.

“Nabi.” He repeats as you stand up, your hands full of your things.

"I never asked you to come back into my life," you snap, finally turning to face him, shaking your head. "I never asked you to kiss me earlier. I think it’s time to say goodbye for good."

"No." Jungkook's voice is firm as his fingers close around your arm. Even when you try to pull away, his grip tightens. “I won’t let that happen.”

You let out a dry chuckle, turning to face him, both of you frowning.

"You must be pretty stupid to still want me," you say, trying to swat his hand away, but he pulls you closer instead.

"I know what you’re doing. You’re being mean to protect yourself. It won’t work. We’re going to talk." His voice rises a little. "You always run when things get complicated. Not this time."

"Let me go, Jungkook."

"Not before we figure this out."

"There’s nothing to figure out!" you bark, but he only pulls you closer, his hand firm on your arm.

"Talk to me, Y/N," he says, his voice louder than yours now.

"I did! And you got mad at me!" You groan, feeling your frustration grow. He takes a deep breath, softening his features.

"It’s not too late."

"What?!"

"Us. It’s not too late," Jungkook whispers, and you stare at him, blinking in disbelief. "Yes, I’m upset with you. But that’s because I know... I know we could have made this work."

"How?" you ask, your tone softer now, no longer fighting him off.

"I could have… taken the ferry to see you during my holidays. You could’ve visited me. There’s always a solution, Nabi." He tilts his head, trying to meet your gaze.

"You were free," you reply, and he shakes his head.

"I didn’t want that," Jungkook chuckles sadly, finally letting go of your arm. "If you really want to leave, then go. I won’t stop you anymore, Nabi."

He looks at you as none of you break the eye contact. Will you leave? He doesn’t want to force you to anything. But you don’t move. And he hopes that you’re not playing him.

"Fuck," he laughs humorlessly, running a hand through his hair. "You’re the only woman who can shatter me, and I’ll still come running after you."

"I thought I was helping you," you murmur, biting your tongue, looking down at your feet. "I didn’t want to leave. I..." Your voice breaks, and you begin to sob. "I didn’t want to hurt you."

Jungkook stays silent, his fists clenching at his sides to stop himself from pulling you into his arms. God, he wants to. He needs to comfort you, but he knows you’ll push him away.

"I put my own feelings aside to let you live your dream," you sniff, hiding your face in your hands. Jungkook’s vision blurs as his eyes fill with unshed tears.

"I was going to ask you to marry me," Jungkook whispers, followed by an awkward chuckle. When you lift your tear-filled eyes to meet his, he shrugs. "The day you left me... I was going to ask you to be my wife."

And it’s too much to bear. You break in tears as he looks away, wiping his cheek. He hates seeing you cry. He hates being unable to comfort you like he used to.

“I didn’t plan to see you again when I came back. I was scared to find out you were happily married to someone who wasn’t me.” He continues, eyes fixed on an empty soju bottle half-buried in the sand. “But I saw you at Hyesun’s wedding and… fuck, you were so pretty.”

“Stop.” You shake your head, taking a step back because it’s probably too much to hear but he takes a deep breath and close the distance.

"I knew I had to try, Nabi," he says, cupping your face in his hands. "Because there’s no one else for me but you."

"Jungkook," you protest weakly, trying to push him away half-heartedly.

"Stop fighting it," he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours. "Tell me you want this too."

"I…” You start but Jungkook muffles your next words with a kiss.

He isn’t trying to force you, but when you kiss him back, he pulls you closer. The kiss tastes of salt, from your tears and his. Jungkook has kissed many girls after you, but none of them ever made him feel like this. He softly nips at your bottom lip, creating a gap to slide his tongue into your mouth, meeting yours. It’s a passionate kiss, desperate. He wants you to feel how much he needs you. When you relax into him, your fingers threading through his hair and pulling him closer, he smiles against your mouth. But when the need for air becomes overwhelming, he reluctantly pulls back, his nose nuzzling against yours.

"Stay with me tonight. Don’t go home," he murmurs, gently wiping the remnants of your tears from your cheeks.

When you nod, his smile widens, and he pulls you into a tight hug, his nose buried in your hair. He missed your warmth. He missed how right it felt to have you in his arms. He doesn’t know how long you stayed like that, but when the cold started to bite at your skin, he pulled back. Grabbing both of your things, he offered his hand to you, which you shyly took. He couldn’t hide his excitement at the thought of keeping you with him tonight.

"You’re not walking straight," you chuckle as you make your way to his hotel.

"I’m drunk, Nabi. Sue me," he jokes, his fingers intertwined with yours as he playfully bumps his shoulder against yours.

Jungkook didn’t rush you once you were in his room. He handed you a fresh pair of joggers and one of his shirts while he waited, sneaking glances at the bathroom door. He even turned off his phone to make sure nothing interrupted your time together. When you came out of the bathroom, he smirked. He had gotten bigger since the last time you borrowed his clothes, and now you looked like a kid in oversized clothing. He found it adorable.

“What?” you ask looking down at your outfit, straightening your shirt –well, his.

"Nothing," he shrugs, still smirking.

Your nose is still slightly rosy from crying earlier, but somehow, it adds to your charm, Jungkook thinks. He gets up and grabs his clothes from the sofa, heading to the bathroom.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he says softly as he walks past you.

Jungkook needs to calm down. He closes the bathroom door and takes a deep breath before jumping in place with excitement. He takes off his shirt and turns to the mirror, grinning at his reflection.

Alright. Breathe. Play it cool. She’s the same, Jungkook.

He pinches his lips together to stop himself from smiling too widely. He feels like he’s seventeen again, on his first date with you. He never thought you’d let him spend more time with you, let alone kiss you like that. He takes another deep breath and looks down at his pants.

“Don’t embarrass me,” he murmurs to himself before turning on the water, excited to join you again, to hold you in his arms.

When he steps out of the bathroom, his damp hair falling over his forehead and neck, he finds you sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling on your phone.

“Are you hungry? We can order something to eat,” Jungkook suggests, closing the distance between you.

“No,” you say, locking your phone and tossing it on the bed. “But if you are, you can—”

“I’m not hungry,” Jungkook cuts in, putting his hands on his hips.

Both of you stare at each other in silence. It’s awkward, and neither of you knows what to say. Jungkook clears his throat nervously, and you giggle when he hums a tune, making him frown slightly and turn to you. Then, out of nowhere, you burst into laughter, falling back onto the bed, your hands on your stomach.

“What’s so funny, huh?” He smiles, amused, as you cover your mouth with your hand, shaking your head.

“Sorry,” you giggle, trying to calm yourself. “It’s just weird. What are we, sixteen? Why are you so nervous?”

Your laughter makes his smile grow as he cages you with his arms, placing both hands on either side of your body.

“You’re mocking me, seriously, Nabi?” he teases with a grin as you sit up, shaking your head.

“Sorry, sorry,” you say, pressing your lips together to stop smiling, then lift your eyes to meet his.

Jungkook’s eyes widen when your puppy-like gaze locks with his. He swallows, leaning closer, dying to kiss you, but he doesn’t want to push it. You smile at his nervousness, and he knows you can read his thoughts—just like you always did. For the first time, you close the distance and press your lips to his.

The only contact is your mouths. His fists grip the sheets on either side of you, trying to resist the urge to touch you more. But your hands trail up his arms to cup his face, pulling him closer. His resolve crumbles the moment your fingers bury themselves in his hair, pulling him down onto the bed with you. He hovers over you, careful not to crush you, one leg between yours as his hands trace the curves of your waist, still over his shirt.

“I’m not made of dust, I won’t crumble and disappear if you touch me.” You laugh against his mouth and he hums shyly.

“I’m not scared of that,” he whispers, trailing kisses along your jaw, his fingers squeezing your hips. “I just... don’t want to get too comfortable and wake up.”

“I’m real,” you reassure him, tilting your head to give him more access to your neck, where he continues to kiss and nip at your skin.

But something feels wrong to him—the way you kiss him hungrily while he kisses you back, passionate yet hesitant. Then it hits him.

“Nabi,” Jungkook murmurs as you continue to kiss his neck and shoulder, your fingers guiding his hand deeper into your joggers. “Y/N.”

“What?” you ask breathlessly, licking your lips as he straightens up, pulling his hand away from your pants.

“I don’t want to have sex with you like a cheap one-night stand,” Jungkook replies, sitting back on his knees and running a hand through his hair.

“What are you talking about?” you frown, leaning on your elbows. “You... don’t want me?”

“Of course I do,” he says, shaking his head. “But you’re acting like I’m just some random guy from a bar.”

You frown, sitting up. He’s afraid he said something wrong.

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” Jungkook sighs. “Fuck... Do you really want me, or are you just horny and I’m the only guy around?”

“Jungkook.” You say, your eyes soften as you cup his face, seeing the hurt on his face. “You’ll never be just convenient for me.”

He takes a deep breath, his tongue poking at his cheek. He wants to believe you. And fuck, if you told him the sky was pink, he’d believe you.

“We can just cuddle and talk if you want,” you suggest, and Jungkook smiles, nodding.

He knew about all the men in your life before you ever told him—Jimin had filled him in. Everyone knows you use physical intimacy to fill the void, and part of him feels responsible. If he had fought harder for you, maybe you wouldn’t have that endless list of guys.

“You’re not them,” you whisper as he pulls you close in bed, your head resting on his arm.

“I know. I was the first,” he teases with a smirk, and you roll your eyes, playfully slapping his chest. He laughs softly, taking your hand and holding it over his heart, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. “Go on a date with me,” Jungkook says, your noses brushing against each other. “A real one. Not this ‘friendly date’ bullshit.”

“You’re such a hopeless romantic,” you chuckle as he smiles and kisses the tip of your nose.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Jungkook grins, his fingers softly rubbing the back of your hand. “We’ll grab some food and go to the beach tomorrow.”

“We came to see our families,” you remind him with a raised brow.

“I’ll see them after the date.”

Jungkook doesn’t know how long the two of you stay in bed, talking about everything. The sun starts to rise as you fall asleep, your face resting on his shoulder while he plays with your hair. He didn’t like them short at first, but he’s gotten used to it and actually thinks that it suits you now. But for him, you look pretty anyways. He keeps you close against his body, his arms locked around you to be sure that you won’t slip. Brushing his nose against your hair, he takes the time to enjoy your scent. Your perfume is slightly different from the fruity one you had when you two were together. This one is more feminine, more mature. And he likes it.

And when he wakes up later, he still finds you nestled against him, your back pressed against his chest. For a good minute, he has to pinch himself, convinced this is a dream. It feels too right to be real, having you here with him.

Jungkook carefully disentangles himself from you and sits up. His mouth is dry, and he needs to check his phone. After taking his time in the bathroom, he smiles when he sees you still sleeping, cuddling one of the pillows. He sits on the edge of the bed and turns on his phone, immediately bombarded by notifications.

Ignoring most of them, he opens his conversation with Jimin and sends him a message. Jimin knew about his plan all along and asked him to keep him updated. Jungkook types out everything he remembers from the night before—how you fell asleep in his arms, how happy he is. He smiles like a teenager as he types, and Jimin replies almost instantly, saying he’s happy for him. But then the next message makes Jungkook’s smile drop.

FROM: Jiminie

Did you tell her about Hina?

Jungkook sighs, rubbing his face. His fingers hover over the keyboard before he finally types a reply. He had been so focused on you that he forgot about her.

TO: Jiminie

It’s too soon. I just got her back. Let me enjoy this.

Jimin’s answer comes almost immediately and Jungkook groans, frustrated because he knows that his friend is right. His eyes fall back on your sleeping form. You’re going to hate him. He needs to figure out how to handle this little – big- problem. Jungkook knows where his heart is, and it’s right here, with the woman peacefully sleeping in his bed.

FROM: Jiminie

I understand. But you need to tell her before she hears it from someone else. Nabi has the right to know about your fiancée.

YOU CAN ALREADY READ THE CHAPTER 07 ON KO-FI.

< previous - MASTERLIST - next >

WATTPAD.

KO-FI. (every chapters/drabbles are posted as soon as i'm done writing them.)

[thatonesonicfanfictionwriter]

Hey I just recently came across your account and I just adore your stories. I especially loved the one about the sonic x single parent reader, which is part of an idea I had for an ask.

It would be after that and maybe they’re out and about when they encounter Shadow. I was thinking maybe the child would just be in awe of him and how he looked so cool. Shadow wouldn’t think much of it, but I can see him seeing how much it bothered Sonic and would just be so smug about it and just keep showing off to the kid just to get a rise out of Sonic.

As far as if there’s any interaction between Shadow and the reader I’ll leave up to you.

Anyway, hope you’re doing well and I can’t wait to see what else you write up! Thank you for all you’ve written and keep up the good work! 👍

“I’m Always Happy to Help, but Why Him?!”

(A continuation to “Always Happy To Help!”)

Pairing(s): Sonic the Hedgehog x Parent Reader, background Knuxadow (Knuckles x Shadow), Shadow the Hedgehog & [Child’s Name] (platonic)

Requested: Yes (by an anon).

Description: Having Shadow as your friend was always nice. But not when a certain blue-quilled partner got jealous.

Notes: I love me some smug Shadow so this’ll be fun! Hope you enjoy! And thanks for the positive comments! ^^

(Like last time, Reader and [Child’s Name] will be gender-neutral!)

(Not proof-read/beta-read.)

– – – – – – – – – – – –

It had been about a week since you had told Sonic about [Child’s Name]. But you hadn’t introduced them to anyone else. So you had planned to meet up with Shadow, and of course, Sonic wanted to come along, presumably to race with him if the time came.

Typical Sonic.

The four of you decided to meet up at Rose’s Bakery, where Amy got the four of you a table in the back, giving [Child’s Name] a coloring book and a cupcake.

“So…this is your kid?” Shadow asks.

“Yep! I figured, after Sonic, you should be the next to know since you’re one of my best friends,” you tell him. Shadow lets out a nod before taking a sip of his coffee.

“Baba! Lookie, lookie!” [Child’s Name] says, getting your attention. They hold up a drawing, it being a picture of you, Sonic, Amy, them, and Shadow. You let off a smile, ruffling their fur.

“Good job, baby,” you tell them. “I’ll put it on the fridge when we get home.”

“Yaaay!” [Child’s Name] cheers.

Shadow seems to let off a soft smile as well seeing himself in the picture.

“Is that Shadow the Hedgehog smiling I see?” Sonic asks, causing Shadow’s smile to go away, replaced with a scowl.

“Good going, Sonic, you ruined it,” you say with a joking grumble.

“Yeah, good job, Dada!” [Child’s Name] copies.

“Aw come on! I was just teasing!” Sonic says with a slight pout.

You let out a giggle before kissing Sonic on the nose, causing [Child’s Name] to pretend gag and causing Shadow to roll his eyes.

“So, how has Knuckles been treating you?” you ask Shadow.

Shadow’s face slightly turns green but he smiles fondly.

“He’s been treating me well,” Shadow states. “He’s been showing me around Angel Island. It’s…It’s been amazing.”

You return his smile.

“I’m really glad to hear that,” you tell him. “You deserve it after everything you two have been through.”

[Child’s Name] looks over at their untouched cupcake.

“Baba, ‘m not hungy,” [Child’s Name] says.

“Oh, that’s alright! We can save it for later,” you tell them.

Before you can grab the cupcake, [Child’s Name] takes it and pushes it towards Shadow.

“For uncle,” [Child’s Name] says.

Both Sonic and Shadow look surprised, but Shadow takes the cupcake with a small smile.

“Thank you, little one,” Shadow says.

“Aw man! What about Papa Sonic??” Sonic asks.

[Child’s Name] sticks out their tongue at Sonic, causing you to burst out laughing as Sonic sputters in disbelief and Shadow smirks.

This was going to be an interesting turn in their rivalry.

[berryispunk]

She Keeps His Shirt, He Keeps His Word

pairing: Frankie Morales x f! reader

This is the final part of the "Complete Mess" series readable here. But definitely also enjoyable as stand-alone.

summary: This is not the way it’s supposed to be, or the time it’s supposed to be. Everything seems wrong. Maybe they will find a way to make it right.

tags: explicit ! 18 + ,unplanned pregnancy, talking of abortion, arguing, angst (lots of it), smut, unprotected PiV, sprinkle of dirty talk, nicknames (hermosa, baby, mi amor, mi vida), inner turmoil, mention of addiction, some (possibly) childhood trauma, social class talk (kind of), did I mention angst?, idiots in love, breakup, established relationship, getting back together, slight pregnancy talk, brief mention of birth, all the feelings, love confessions, ALL THE ANGST, fluff (a tiny bit), soft Frankie, Frankie and his girl, angst and smut

notes: It's happening guys, my series "Complete Mess" is ending and we're finishing like we started with ALL THE ANGST. The title is part of a TS song, thanks to my bestie who suggested the title months ago. If you didn't read the other parts I highly recommend reading them first here and here !!!!

word count: 4,4 k (oops)

That’s not how it's supposed to be. This is not how you wanted this to happen. 

It’s too soon, too much, not enough. 

This should be one of the most important moments in your life, you should overflow with joy but instead you stare at the second line wishing it’d disappear.

Fucking fuck. 

It’s been two weeks since your encounter with Frankie in the club, two weeks since you got back together. 

Five days since your period should’ve started. You’ve taken three tests, all with the same outcome. 

One unmistakingly has the word “Pregnant” on it. Pregnant, as in, a little life growing inside of your womb. It feels like a sick joke. A twisted turn of events. 

You sink to the ground, the last test still in hand as tears start to blur your vision. 

Your head feels like it’s spinning, the weight of it all threatening to crush you.

You feel numb, but at the same time you feel every emotion imaginable.

Anger, frustration, fear, sadness, all mixed up in a dangerous maelstrom of feelings.

You wanna scream, but you also wanna say nothing at all. 

Your hands are shaking as you start to sob and the test hits the ground with a noise. 

This is rock bottom, you think. You’ve hit the ground, both figuratively and literally. 

How the hell could this happen? 

How could you have been so careless ? 

You’re almost 28. You should’ve known better. 

You curl up in a ball, trying to soothe yourself but it’s to no use. 

Your sobs shake your whole body and your head is so loud, screaming at you.

The chaos of voices inside you raging. 

One voice is clear, overpowering all others. It’s repeating one simple thing, a name, one thing you can’t mistake for anything else. 

Frankie. 

You pull yourself together and frantically search for your phone. 

You finally find it on the sink, the lockscreen of it like a punch to your gut. 

It’s you and him, happy, in love, with not a care in the world. A fragment of happiness you both long for so much, but never be able to reach fully. 

Tiny glimpses of it scattered through your mess of a relationship.

With still shaking hands you dial his number and he picks up on the third ring, your stomach dropping.

“We have to talk,” you simply state. “Can you come over?” 

“Sure, hermosa. Everything alright?” The worry in his voice is palpable and you feel like you suffocate on the sob that leaves your throat. 

“I don’t know… Just come here, okay ?”

“I’m on my way,” he says with conviction and the line goes dead. 

Only twenty minutes later the front door opens. He’s let himself in with the spare key you gave him a while back. 

His brows are furrowed in confusion, his dark eyes scanning the room for you in the dim light.

“I am here,” you say quietly, standing in your small kitchen with a glass of water in your hand. 

“Baby?” he hesitantly asks as he steps closer to you. You don’t need to look up to feel his questioning eyes on you. “You scared the shit outta me on the phone… What is going on?”

Without saying a word you point towards the kitchen counter where the three pregnancy tests lie, offensively all spelling out the same result.

You don’t dare to look up. You’re not strong enough for whatever reaction he’s having. 

You expect the same emotions you experienced just minutes ago. 

But as Frankie stays threateningly silent, definitely uncharacteristic for him, you turn around to watch him look at the objects on the counter. 

His dark brown eyes are analytical, searching and possibly confused.

His brows lift up high before he looks at you. His gaze flickering from your stomach to your face, gauging your own reaction before there’s a wide smile spreading over his face and it throws you off way more than any anger could. 

Is he… happy?

“Is this real?” he asks and you scoff. 

“I peed on three of these dumb sticks, so I’d say so.” 

His smile only widens as he closes the distance between you and lifts you up, swirling you around like you weigh nothing as he exclaims, “We’re gonna have a baby!!” and his voice is so full of genuine joy it makes your stomach twist. 

You wrap your arms around his neck but your energy definitely doesn't match his.

“Wait- You are.. Are you happy?” 

“Of course I am happy! We’re having a baby, mi amor! This is probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He takes a short breath and then adds, “Besides meeting you of course,” he laughs and the corners of your mouth twitch in the slightest hint of a smile. 

You wish you could mirror his excitement. 

But you can’t.

“Frankie, I–” You break off and pat his biceps to signal him to let you down again so he obliges and you take a small step back.

“I don’t know if… If I wanna keep it.”

His facial expression switches from joy to pure shock instantly, his eyes darkening.

“What?”

You suddenly feel so small under his intense gaze.

“What do you mean you don’t know if you wanna keep it?” 

You can’t look at him so you focus your gaze on the wall, on the kitchen counter that serves as your breakfast table. Anything other than his face. 

“I am not ready to be a mom,” you mumble.

“Nobody is ever really ready for this,” he objects and you sigh in response.

“You still struggle with the whole drug stuff…”

“I’ve been clean for weeks and you know that.”

“Yeah, but what if you relapse? Then what? I can’t take care of a newborn alone.”

He frowns heavily at this.

 “You won’t have to do it all by yourself. I am here and I will be with you every step of the way.”

“Your job?”

“I’ll quit.”

“We’re already struggling to make ends meet as it is, Frankie. Now imagine a baby on top of that. All the diapers, clothing, furniture,…” you drift off, trying your best to reason with him.

He crosses his arms in front of his chest, his face hardening, taking on the defense. 

“You’re just searching for reasons that this won’t work out. You’re not even considering it, are you?”

Ouch.

“Frankie, I–” 

But he stops you by lifting his hand. 

“Look, my parents were immigrants. We never had much but there was still nothing lacking, most of all there was love. Love, baby. That’s what created this new life in the first place…”

You scoff. 

“You mean your childhood in poverty was worth it because of all the love? Love isn’t enough, Frankie. It doesn’t pay the bills and it doesn’t feed another mouth.”

He looks at you as if you hurt him. His sad soulful eyes make you regret your harsh words instantly. 

“Besides,” you add, “I don’t know if you remember but I also come from a lower class family with a single mom. I remember vividly all the times I had to go to bed on an empty stomach. I don’t want this for a child. Nobody deserves that.” 

His mouth opens but you interrupt him before he can speak up.

“And don’t tell me about how this formed you as a person, how it made you resilient. That’s romanticizing. I don’t want our child to experience the same shit.”

He runs a hand over his face in frustration. 

“Fine. But you’re not alone in this. I am here and I will do anything to give you and the baby a good life.”

Your eyes narrow on him. 

“Yeah? How’re you planning to do this? Taking another of these risky and highly illegal jobs?”

He frowns again. 

“No, smart-ass, I will look for a steady job. One with decent pay.”

You snort sarcastically. 

“Yeah, right. Because your criminal record is so clean!”

The moment the words leave your mouth you realize it was a low blow, even for you, but it’s too late to take it back now. He looks hurt, defeated and lost as he looks at you. 

“Why did you tell me about this when you already decided to get rid of it?”

“I haven't decided yet. I just…" 

You don’t even know how to finish the sentence.

He takes a few steps back, pacing around the kitchen, the gears visibly rattling in his head.

“What can I do to convince you to prove that I’m serious about changing?”

“Frankie, I know you’re trying.”

“Yes, I am trying. And I will try harder because I have a reason. A reason to do better.”

He’s sounding so sincere and confident that for a millisecond you dare to dream about the three of you as a family. Maybe a life in a little condo apartment. Or even something with a backyard, so the tiny human can have a sandbox to play in and their own puppy. But reality catches up faster than you’d like and you’re reminded why this won’t work out, no matter how much you want it to. 

“Look, if things were different I’d be over the moon given the prospect of having a baby with you. Yet, in this life, you know as well as I do that the circumstances we’re in right now are far from ideal to start a family. We just got back together-”

“And?” “And, given our history it’s only a matter of time until we fight and break up again. You know how it goes.” “I would never leave you alone with a baby. You’re thinking that lowly of me ?”

You immediately shake your head no.

But Frankie already tenses up as the words begin to spill, every one of them more hurtful than the other.

“You’re thinking I am a lost cause, right? Doomed to repeat his own mistakes again and again and too dumb to learn a lesson for good. Is that it?” His voice is trembling with emotion and you feel like the biggest douche.

You open your mouth to say something, but Frankie interrupts you. 

“You claim you love me, that you’re proud of me for even the small victories but still you treat me like a damn child, wrapping me in bubble wrap afraid I might implode first chance I get. But let me tell you, I am trying. I am working so hard to be a man deserving of your love. Showing up, going through withdrawal, even considering therapy and all you do is think of me as the big screw-up, worth less than the dirt under your shoe.”

You feel hot tears building in the corners of your eyes.

“Frankiiiieee…” you whine but he shakes his head, his expression hard and  unapproachable.

The warmth in his eyes is gone.

“For you I’m just an idiot who’s in love with you but to me you’re all that matters, all I ever think about. The reason why I do all of this crap because hell, it’s fucking hard. But I constantly think about you, about your pretty smile and your soft words whenever I feel I am not strong enough. And now you’re standing here in front of me, telling me you’re pregnant with my child and you don’t wanna keep it because, still, after everything I’ve done I am not good enough, not worthy enough for you and it fucking hurts.”

You’re speechless for a moment, his monologue hitting you like a ton of bricks, taking your breath away so you just look at him, taking him in. His brokenness, his sadness and all you wanna do is to hug him, make this right. Do him right, like he deserves. But you can’t. Maybe the two of you were never meant to last anyway, maybe your fate was already sealed long before this moment in time. Your heart breaks the longer you look at him and you’re surer than ever of your decision. 

You are both too broken to be parents. Too caught up in your own wreckages that calls itself life. You can’t bring a baby into this. A life whose survival depends solely on the two of you, each struggling themselves to stay afloat. 

As your gaze finds his again, every emotion you’re feeling is mirrored in his eyes. You inhale sharply before you step towards him to wrap your arms tightly around his midsection and he holds you close, his face nuzzled in your hair, placing tiny soft kisses on your neck.

You’re equally searching for comfort in each other, even though you’re each other's reason for breaking in the first place. 

“I am sorry,” you mumble, your voice muffled against the fabric of his shirt.

You feel him shaking his head, hugging you just a little bit tighter, his face in the crook of your neck. All your broken pieces squeezed together even if only for this moment. 

You feel whole, you always do. His arms are your home and nothing beats the feeling of his body heat enveloping you and making you feel like maybe it’s all gonna be okay. His familiar scent fills your nostrils, so earthy and musky, so unmistakingly him, you’ll never tire of it. Sleeping in his worn shirts is the closest you have to tranquility when your mind is troubled yet again and you want to forget the woes of the world.

Eventually Frankie nuzzles his face against your ear, placing a feathery kiss against the sensitive spot behind it before his mouth wanders along the side of your neck and in a habit you tilt your head to give him better access, your hands finding his tousled locks which is always his weakness. 

“Frankie…” you mewl, your voice already betraying you. “What are you doing?”

He smiles against the skin of your neck before he whispers hoarsely, “Let me have this. Please, hermosa…” 

You shake your head but it’s a weak attempt at protest.

You could never say no to Frankie, no matter the circumstances. 

The two of you attract each other like magnets. Never really complete without the other. 

He gently pushes you towards the kitchen counter until the back of your legs are reaching the edge and you sweep the fucking test off the countertop before you hop onto it, not caring where they land. It’s not as if they would change anything now. His hands immediately find your hips as he stands between your legs and continues his assault on your neck. His mouth explores every bit of your skin taking his time before he helps you take off your shirt over your head and his mouth immediately latches back onto your skin, sponging hot open-mouthed kisses on your now exposed chest. 

Your every nerve ending is already on fire at this point as you eagerly open the zipper of his jeans and pull it down so it hangs onto the back of his knees, quickly followed by his black boxer briefs. Your hand finds his hardened member, pumping him a few times to which he answers with a hiss at the mere feeling of your hand around him. You kiss him messily, swallowing his moan as you keep stroking him, his hips bucking into your hand. 

One of his hands finds your hair, tangling in it to deepen the kiss, pulling your head back a bit and making you moan. The whole thing is a mess of tongues and teeth at this point and you don’t even remember the last time you were kissed like this. 

“Take this off,” he commands as he tugs at your shorts and you lift your hips so he can pull them down, revealing nothing underneath. 

His hand that was on your hip just moments ago finds your center, already wet and leaking for him and he hums in appreciation. “Always so ready for me,” he purrs as he sucks at your neck again, coaxing the neediest moan out of you as his hand simultaneously starts to explore your folds. His thumb on your clit drawing circles paired with the slightest bit of pressure before two of his digits sink into you and you gasp in response, your hand pulling at his shirt in a desperate attempt to hold onto something. 

“Fucking beautiful,” he praises as his fingers curl inside of you and find the spot that makes you see stars instantly. 

“Frankie, please,” you whimper frenziedly. 

“I know, baby. I know,” as he places another, now way softer kiss on your neck, before he tilts your chin with his free hand and with the other guiding his cock towards your entrance. 

“Look at me, I want to see you when I fuck you like this.” 

His goddamn fucking filthy mouth. 

You just nod and without another word he pushes into you, torturously slow at first, your eyes still locked and you feel like your whole body burns up with need. 

You wrap your legs tightly around him as he’s bottoming out, giving you a moment to adjust to him, taking him as deep as you can. 

He starts moving because you start wiggling impatiently, his hands on your hips as he pushes in and out of you.

This feels different, even if you can’t quite pinpoint why. It feels like a confession and a redemption at the same time. Like he knew all along how this would end.

You let your bodies talk and explain where words aren’t enough as your lips find his again, your hands slightly pulling at his hair as you keep kissing him like you’re drowning and he mirrors it perfectly. Without even noticing tears start streaming down your cheeks as he picks up the pace and fills you completely, satiating the void only he can fill. 

As he notices the tears on your face he stills for a moment, his brown eyes full of worry. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “No,” you breathe and you’re not able to look him in the eye so you bury your face in his neck. 

“Did I hurt you?” 

You shake your head.

How can you explain to him that this feels like a goodbye?

“Don’t stop,” you whine, your voice thin. 

You can feel his hesitation, his hand gently caressing the back of your head but you can’t look at him, you simply can’t or it will shatter you completely. 

“Please. Frankie.” Are the only two words to make him nod and start moving again. 

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to find your release and you would lie if it doesn’t feel like coming home, like this is supposed to be like this, two people connected in the simplest but also most powerful way. He pants against your collarbone, trying to take back some control over his breathing again. You just hold him tight, your hands caressing his back gently as you place a kiss on his hair, inhaling his scent. 

But then something changes, the softness of the afterglow gone as he lifts his head, his dark brown eyes boring into yours. 

“This is it, isn’t it?”

You frown, not exactly grabbing the magnitude of his question, but you nod as tears blur your vision once again. He shakes his head, lost for words himself as he puts his clothes back on and hands you your clothes as well. 

The silence is heavy between you, so much to say but there are no words to pinpoint how you think or feel right now. 

“I wish things were different,” you finally say quietly. “Yeah, me too,” he answers shortly, way too distant given the fact how close you two were mere moments ago. 

“I am sorry.”

“That’s not enough,” he retorts, his voice hoarse. 

You lower your gaze as you finally hop off the counter to put your bottoms back in their place.

He walks towards the front door, his steps heavy and you follow him mindlessly. You don’t want him to leave, but open the door for him, both of you standing in the doorway now. You look in his direction, but you don’t look at him, as he looks outside. There weren’t any clouds earlier but it has started to rain and it’s literally pouring now. 

How fitting, you think to yourself. 

His gaze shifts towards you again before he takes a step towards you, his big hand resting on your cheek, his thumb caressing it and makes you look at him for a long moment, really look at him. 

Are you trying to memorize his features or is he trying to memorize yours, you wonder and try to give him a weak smile before leaning more into his touch and kissing his wrist. 

“I love you, mi amor. I always will, no matter what.” 

You take a shuddering breath before answering with a shaky voice, “I will always love you too, Frankie.” 

You watch him leave, the rain soaking his clothing, drenching him completely in the time it takes him to reach his car, he takes one last glance towards your front door before you close it, sinking down on the linoleum floor and drowning in your own tears as the sky mirrors your agony. 

—

Abortions aren’t glamorous and they aren’t easy. 

The whole process is longer than you’ve thought it would be and all the questions are draining. 

Is the father involved? Did you ever have an abortion before? When was your last period? Were you sexually active in the last four weeks? Did you have sex without contraceptive? 

You grumble slightly to yourself while filling out the questionnaire. You didn’t tell anyone about this, because you were convinced you’re fine on your own. 

But as your gaze drifts around the waiting area you see that almost everyone brought someone along and you feel more lonely than you ever did before. 

Your leg impatiently bounces up and down and without giving much thought you cover your stomach with your palm, lowering your gaze and whisper, “No worries, little bean. We’ll be fine.” 

As you look back up again you pray that no one heard you talking to yourself. 

What the fuck was this? You talked to this little bundle of cells like it could hear you. 

You clearly lost your mind, finally. 

As you look back onto the paperwork again, your vision starts to blur and a single tear drops onto the paper. You’re caught off guard. Why are you so damn emotional all of a sudden?

In that instant you wish for one thing only.

Frankie being here with you. 

He would hold your hand, caressing your back in soothing circles and tell you he’s here for you. 

Shit. 

You miss him more than you’d like to admit. 

You fish your phone out of your pocket, your thumb hovering over his contact. 

What are you even going to say? 

“Hey Frankie, I sit at the abortion clinic and guess what, I am not so sure anymore. Did you know their heart starts beating at 6 weeks? A whole fucking heartbeat…” 

“I know,” a familiar voice suddenly ringing in your ear. 

“Frankie?” you ask back, still in disbelief that you really called him absentmindedly. 

“Hey,” he chuckles softly through the speaker and your heart skips a beat.

“Hey yourself.. Sorry, that was… I don’t know what that was.” 

“It’s alright,” he assures you, although you are pretty sure it isn’t but you can picture him smiling faintly. 

“I sit here all alone filling out that damn questionnaire and I swear I never felt more alone than I do now and all I wished for was…” You can’t finish that sentence, because if you’d do, you’d give in. To him, to everything you desperately fought for to forget, trying to not feel anymore. 

But the second you heard his voice it felt like all reason flew out the window. Your mind subconsciously decided for you.

“I wished you were here with me, holding my hand,” you press out of your lips, your voice nothing more than a whisper. 

“You want me to accompany you?” 

“No. Yes… Urgh, I don't know,” you stumble over your own words. 

There’s a laugh at the other end. 

“Make up your mind, hermosa.” 

And in this very moment you do. You see clearer than you did in weeks.

Him kissing your baby bump, massaging your feet when they’re too swollen to walk on. 

You painting the walls in the spare room, him admiring you and stating you’re glowing, even if you feel like a damn whale. 

Him with your baby in his arms, rocking it gently, soothing it back to sleep and your heart hurts, it physically hurts to even think about it because you long for it, you crave this new life more than anything else. 

“I did. I have,” you finally say. “We’re having a baby, Morales.” 

—

9 months later you’re giving birth to a baby girl. The perfect mix of both of you. His dark brown curls crowning her tiny head and your bright eyes looking back at you. 

Her first cry is powerful, announcing her arrival, taking her rightful space in this world and you never saw something as perfect as the baby that rests on your chest. 

Frankie is a crying mess next to you full of pride as he kisses your hair. 

“You did so good, mi vida,” he praises and his voice is nothing more than a muffled whisper against your hair before you start to cry yourself. 

“She is beautiful,” you say in awe as you take her teeny tiny hand in yours, kissing it gently. 

“Almost as beautiful as you are,” Frankie whispers, watching his two girls with nothing but tenderness. 

You feel like you’re exploding with love, your heart suddenly living outside of your body and you swear to yourself no matter what, your daughter will have a good life. 

One worth remembering. She’s the center of your universe now and as you tilt your head to Frankie you smile softly, leaning against him. 

“We’re a family, Frankie,” you say as your voice chokes up with all the emotions. 

“We always were, but now we’re parents too,” he answers and the weight of his words hangs heavy in the air. But you’re not afraid of the responsibility anymore. 

You are happy, truly happy because for the first time in your life you feel like you’re exactly where and who you need to be. 

my masterlist in case you’re hungry for more :)

[asaka-lucy-dr-rc]

📢 Last Defense Academy School Council 1st Online Fan Meeting Report

Today, the first online fan meeting was held on Discord*! First of all, I would like to clarify that no new game information was revealed during this meeting. Since it was the first fan meeting ever, the focus was on clarifying the purpose of the School Council with the official staff and the fans. *For those who don't know, this event is only for those who live in Japan and have been selected for the Ambassador Program they were previously recruited for.

The official staff who participated included two representatives from Famitsu (one of whom was Miyokawa, known for appearances on Rain Code's YouTube program) and two from ANIPLEX, including producer Shuntaro Inou (稲生 舜太郎). Inou is a key figure who appeared alongside Kodaka during media interviews at the Tokyo Game Show.

There were no representatives from Tookyo Games this time, but Kodaka made a brief appearance via a video message at the end of the meeting. His message was mainly a note of gratitude to the fans who joined, without much noteworthy information. (He mentioned things that he had already mentioned many times in his X account, such as spending a lot of money to make this game.) However, the background of the video, likely filmed in Tookyo Games’ office, featured several movie posters, one of which was for John Wick. The poster showed John pointing a gun directly at the viewer, giving the impression that Kodaka himself was being threatened. Also, perhaps he recorded that video late at night and his face looked a little tired, which also made him look like a person trapped somewhere. Then, Miyokawa joked about this, saying, “Maybe Kodaka is in an extreme(極限) state," which made both the staff and the fans laugh. (By the way, "extreme" is one of the catchphrases for The Hundred Line.)

It was mentioned that Kodaka will be present at the upcoming online fan meeting, but it is not known when exactly he will appear.

One piece of information that might sound interesting is that Inou mentioned that both ANIPLEX and Tookyo Games staff frequently check fan art posted on platforms like X. Kodaka in particular is said to be actively looking at fan art. Many of you may already know this, as he occasionally reposts (retweets) fan creations. However, when this was brought up, the official staff all nodded and said, "Kodaka checks very often," which suggests that he might be paying even more attention than we imagined.

This fan meeting was held in a format where fans reacted, sent messages and questions via text chat while watching streaming video from the official staff. The chat was incredibly active, with messages pouring in at an astounding speed, showing just how passionate the fanbase is.

Although no new game information was shared this time, ANIPLEX’s PR representative mentioned that they have many plans in store, so there’s plenty to look forward to!

That is all for this report. Thanks for reading! 🫶💕

[reinersredemption]

can I have a scenario with Dick grayson or Tim Drake where they sleep over at their s/o apartment the first night and find s/o’s side door closet room which just has a massive stash of wrapped up books that has been collecting dust and not been reading for years. How is all those books balancing and not falling out the closet. Nobody knows. They notice the book s/o just bought the other day is in there too. If they bought s/o a book at some point, it’s there. Not been touched. (All sorts of genres are in there). S/o Makes the joking excuse that “We have a power outage once a year in gotham/bludhaven for a week or month usually. You’ll be thanking me for saving you from boredom with all the tech and electricity being out”. (s/o is a compulsive book buyer).. in future when they go out and s/o is *doom* staring at a book store. Does the boys drag s/o away and s/o’s being a bit dramatic about being seperated from the second love of her life or do they encourage this habit? ( 1 is her boyfriend/ 2 is the books).

Unread and Untouched | Tim Drake x reader ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary: Tim finds out you're a compulsive book buyer. masterlist

It was one of those rare periods when Tim finally got a break from the chaos of his hectic life. After weeks of constant action and responsibility, you both managed to carve out some time for him to unwind. You’d planned for him to stay over at your apartment for an entire week—his first time spending the night here, you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy. It felt like a significant milestone in your relationship. Wanting everything to be perfect, you made sure to arrange the apartment just right—everything neat, and comfortable—so that he could feel completely at ease during his stay.

The apartment was cozy, with soft lighting and a warmth that made him feel relaxed in a way he wasn’t used to, even after years of crime-fighting. You had made sure he was comfortable, settling him with a cup of tea your her usual sweet smile before retreating to do a few last-minute things in another room.

Curious, Tim wandered around, exploring your apartment for the first time. It was homely, lived-in, and a stark contrast to the sleek, high-tech gadgets and polished floors of Wayne Manor. He wandered to the side door near the kitchen, which led to a small closet room, half-hidden and almost out of place in the otherwise tidy apartment. He opened the door, the faint sound of creaking cutting through the quiet of the room. His eyes immediately caught sight of it—a massive stash of books, piled high in neat stacks that filled the space.

He frowned slightly, his curiosity piqued. Did you even manage to read all of these? Why didn't you put them on a bookshelf or something?

As he looks more into it, he notices the books had been collecting dust for a while, indicating that they had remained untouched dor a long time. Fiction, non-fiction, graphic novels— Tim even recognized a few that he'd seen you pick up when the both of you went to the bookstore.

Tim heard the soft sound of footsteps behind him and turned to find you standing in the doorway. “Ah, you found my secret stash,” he said with a grin.

"That's one way to put it," you replied, offering a small, awkward smile. Tim chuckled before asking, "Just out of curiosity… have you been reading these?"

Your hesitant smile gave him his answer almost instantly.

Tim paused, holding up a book titled Cinco Minutos. “And this one?” he asked, his tone playful. “I think I bought this for you, didn’t I?”

“Oh, that one’s definitely been sitting there for a while," you admitted, slightly embarrassed. "Thanks for that, by the way. I’ll read them, I just… haven't found the right time, you know?”

As he placed the book back into the stack, Tim couldn’t help but laugh. “So, this is where books go to die?”

"They’re not here to die!" you protested, but neither of you fully believed your words. "I swear, I’ll get to them—maybe during vacation, or when Gotham has one of those long power outages.”

Tim couldn’t hide his concern. He knew how much money you’d spent on those books, and he wasn’t sure you’d ever actually find the time to read them. Ever since that day, he had quietly stepped in to help manage your book-buying habit. He was patient throughout the process, always making sure you felt comfortable, and even went so far as to build you a new bookshelf for the ones you wanted to keep.

It didn’t stop there. Tim started a two-person book club, where you both read the same books to keep each other motivated. He even started taking notes, marking the most interesting parts of each story with sticky notes, making the experience more engaging for both of you. It was no longer just about finishing books—it became something you could share, something you could look forward to together. It made the whole process feel less like a task and more like an enjoyable adventure.

Over time, reading became something you both genuinely looked forward to, a shared ritual that added a new layer to your connection. The piles of unread books no longer felt like a weight, but a collection of possibilities. With Tim’s encouragement and unwavering support, the stack of untouched novels slowly began to dwindle, one chapter at a time. And while there were still days when you found it hard to pick up a book, you knew that with Tim by your side, you had all the time in the world to enjoy them—together.

[laukoslovergirl]

good graces

Pairing: Joey Daccord x singer!reader

Warnings: um cheesy and probably bad writing

Summary: Y/n is a famous singer with a not so secret crush on joey daccord. Based on my SMAU.

word count: 1.1K

Notes: i wanted to make this longer but that was not working for me so :(

You would be lying if you said the song hadn’t started as a joke. Your ex was a big sports fan. He followed them all, but hockey was his favorite so you had gotten pretty into the game as your relationship progressed. The main problem was his insecurity as you gained popularity, he continually brought up the argument that you were going to leave him for a sports player. Then you understood why he was worried about you leaving him for someone better because he was cheating you with some b-list actress. Jokes on him the songs he inspired skyrocketed your fame. Then your team thought you’d play into the bit of one of your biggest songs from your newest album. Good Graces the most popular line being ”Break my heart, and I swear I'm movin' on with your favorite athlete”.  While touring you ended the night in one of that city's sports jerseys. Famously you never wore a current player’s jersey, they all had your last name on the back and your favorite number.  You made it a point to only do two hockey teams though. His favorite Seattle Kraken and his least favorite The Toronto Maple Leafs. Finally having some time in your schedule while touring you found yourself at a Seattle Kraken game. Clad in Joey Daccord’s Jersey which you would be wearing at your concert tomorrow night on stage. It was your idea at a grand gesture to shoot your shot. You’d always found the man incredibly attractive, not to mention he was your ex's favorite player. You were feeling incredibly spiteful recently which had prompted the recent events in your life. Most notable today. You had spent some time with your team to get yourself not only on Kraken’s radar but Joey's as well. Tweets about his performance in a game. Arranging for you to read the starting line up to the guys in the locker room to also get some one on one time with them and invite them to your concert the next night. 

“Okay I’m not gonna lie to you guys, I'm nervous about this. Before I read the starting lineup I wanted to let you guys know you're all invited to the show tomorrow.” You blushed standing in the center of the locker room slip of paper in hand with the lineup. You had your best friend with you for moral support. “Vip access” you smiled at them as they let out a cheer. 

“Don’t be short stack, we love you already” Jaime Oleksiak said from his spot. You chuckled at the nickname, in all fairness everyone was short to the 6’7” giant. “I’ll pay someone on the other team to go after you” you joked with a smile. 

“Okay we got number 19 Jared Mcman, number 10 Matty Beniers, and number 7 Jordan Eberle. Defense number 6 Adam Larsson and number 62 Brandon Montour. Last but certainly not least number 35 Jdac." The boys clapped and cheered in between each name.  You looked up to see Grubauer nudging Joey out of his thoughts. 

“Okay now can i get some pictures with you guys?” you asked knowing both Kraken media had wanted the photos as well as your own PR team. The boys got up to meet you in the center of the room. “Wait hold on i gotta take off my jacket” you turned to your body guard and unzipped the big leather jacket you were wearing it had a bedazzled kraken logo on the back. Revealing a bedazzled Daccord jersey you were wearing like a dress. Taking pictures first as one big group then in smaller groups and one on one with some players. chit chatting with the boys and exchanging phone numbers and social media handles with a few.  Finally the goalie tandems turn, Joey and Philip wrapped their arms around your shoulders both their tall frames towering over your smaller body. As the boys thanked you and turned to go back to getting ready you stopped joey. 

“Wait this is awkward but I had another photo I wanted with you.” you asked, hand on his wrist. “Anything you want you can have” he finally said something to you having been pretty silent since you entered the room. You blushed and tried to escape the moment waving your best friend over. She was wearing a Grubauer jersey bedazzled like yours, but she also held a jersey with your last name on it for Joey to wear. You were still blushing over his words as he chuckled at the jersey presented to him. He slipped off his hoodie and slid on the new jersey. You couldn’t help but stare as he changed and your best friend snickered at you. You elbowed her in the side as Joey turned to throw his hoodie in his stall. You instructed Joey through the pose you wanted for the photo backs to the camera heads turned to display the back. You demonstrated the pose before looking at him, your eyes locking for a moment as he stared at you intensely. He was in the middle of you and y/bf/n. Then you took one facing the camera with big smiles on your faces. 

“Thanks Joey.” you smiled at him, your agent handing you your phone. “You look good in my jersey” he whispered to you, wrapping you in a hug, before turning and walking away. You momentarily forgot what you were even doing thinking about being wrapped in his arms. 

“Kick some ass out there boys, me and y/bf/n are gonna go find buoy” you hollered leaving the locker room. You heard wolf whistles and some chirps called to joey and you could only imagine what chaos you had just caused. 

– – – – –

Finally you were sitting in your seats. Getting ready for puck drop and to experience the game. You were currently on your phone making an instagram post. Some photos from the night. A simple dump of one of you in the stands, a picture of the ice and a photo of joey. With the caption “break my heart and i’m moving on with your favorite athlete 🩵🩷. As planned buoy made a cheeky comment and then found you during the game and y’all caused some chaos around the stadium. 

– – – – –

Beiners: I gave Joey your number. You’re welcome!! Super excited for the show tomorrow.

The game had just ended a 6-3 loss to Colorado. 

You hadn’t known one of the youngest members of the team would come in clutch as a wingman but he was completing tasks your pea brain had forgotten about. Before you had the chance to respond to matty and new text came in.

[ghost-proofbaby]

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let's spread the self-love 💛

this caused a sweet walk down memory lane of the last several years, so thank you very much for that <3 i've decided to exclude long fics, and focus more on one shots posted here, because in all honesty? every long fic i write for a character i hold near and dear to my chest, and each one is a love letter all on their own (i'm looking very hard at you two, the shire is burning and the moon will sing.)

you showed me colors (eddie munson x reader)

yes, very sad, but also i just adore the world building i managed in this fic. absolutely tragic but also the sweet moments really did give me a toothache. i think it did well on encapsulating both the feeling i got as i fell for eddie while watching the show, as well as the devastation when the canon ending to season 4 happened. a slightly different story, an almost parallel universe, and yet it all ended the same. big tragedy. big feelings. but the love is still there <3

2. foolishness and all (eddie munson x reader)

this one is honestly pure silliness, but it also just captures my love for eddie so... nicely? so perfectly? one shots like this one and no denture adventure just always serve to remind me why i love eddie, why i love writing, and just the sheer joy of fandom/being a fan of things to the point of wanting to immortalize them with my words forevermore - even when the words are inside jokes or entirely unserious for the most part.

3. sweet like honey (steve harrington x reader)

the notorious fic in which i've had snippets of sent to me a few times where i go "WHO WROTE THIS? I NEED TO READ IT!!" only to be hit with the fact that i wrote it. was the final nail in the coffin in the way steve owns the nickname "honey" for me, too. we love cocky king steve. long live.

4. simple. (astarion x reader)

this one i love due to the way i got to play around with a new dynamic between astarion and reader/tav <3 his character, including his trauma, is something extremely personal and important to me, so venturing out with this type of writings with him has always been a slippery slope for me. but i genuinely enjoy what i did here <3

5. kissing lessons (robin buckley x reader)

and of course... how can i not include this lovely work in which helped me take something sour from my past, and make it sickly sweet? robin has been a huge fictional crush for me since season 3, and getting to put myself into a reader while giving them a happier ending than reality was just very fulfilling to me <3 makes my heart sing that so many others enjoyed it right along with me <3

this was so fun and nostalgic, thank you so much!! 😭🖤

[brights-place]

[Tokyo Revengers] Souya Kawata x Reader

1K 5 Part Special: 1 , 2 , 3 ,4 ,5 (You are here) Warnings: Fluff, cursing, SMOOCH

A/N: YOOO IT'S THE LAST PARTY YAYAYAYA!! Thank you for the people who continued to read and request my work along with the people who read my stories aha go check it out here and I hope you all enjoy this last part! ──★ ˙ ̟ My Wattpad🐇 !!

Summary: Little summary here for the last part you and souya were on a date and got surprised to see Nahouya and the other division captains enter the restaurant and welcoming themselves to join the dinner after nahouya decided to mess with his brother

Souya and you have been dating for awhile and every now and then nahouya would mess with his younger brother who would get annoyed at the fact Nahouya would just be pestering him.

So when you and nahouya were at a resturant booth of a local diner rambling and talking about the recent things they saw at the aquarium the door of the diner got opened as rowdy voices were heard and one kf them were oh so famillar to Souya who froze eyes snapping over to see his brother and friends entering the resturant in toman uniforms grinning and chatting while getting take iut as regular customers looked away to avert eye contact.

Souya was one of them as he turned back to you as you blinked blinking “Whats wrong?” “Code Peach” Souya sighed as he still held his usual angry expression you loved so much.

You paused before stiffling a laugh at how your boyfriend looked while sounded annoyed that his brother would pester you two again even as a joke. A hand slammed down on the table as a cherry vocie was heard “No way!” A grinning mikey smiled at the duo “You two on a date?” “Y-Yeah!” You said sweatdropping at Mikey is random exclamation.

Draken sighed apologizing to you as he was holding a plastic bag of food they just got. Nahouya popped by soon after from beside Mikey grinning like always but staring at his younger brother eyebrows wiggling “OoOoOh~?” “Aniki” Souya frowned at Nahouya he continued to smile.

You giggled at the interaction as the other toman guys were joking around and crowding around the two on a date as One was embaressed the other was just genuinley chatting with them as a lovely voluminous curly peach-colored hair male with a wide grin that masks his eyes teased his brother and snatching a dumpling from his brothers plate as Souya hir his brothers arm with his usual angry face.

Mitsuya and Draken being the best went over and got to drag the others away leaving souya and you too finally be alone. The rest of the time it was just a flustered Souya who was holiding his head in his hands apologizing quietly with his usual angry expression as your lips twitched at how cute he looked.

Even when you left the diner after dinner he was holding your hand and trying to apologize yet was cut off by you kissing his cheek as his eyes widened and sparkled slightly.

The irk mark slightly disappearing while he blushed staring at you befote yoy bursted into a light giggle cupping his face. For a moment his angry face was gone, his lips twitching up as you pecked eachothers lips lightly before pulling away.

A soft smile reached your lips staring at souya who stared at you for a moment as you blinked at him confused before souya said something that made you flush.

“I cherish you”

Souya whispered blinking at you as if you were an undiscivered constellation that hooked him in as you laughed softly kissing him again once more before the two of you freezing from a loud yell from afar

“YEAHH MAKE SURE MY SISTER IN LAW IS PAMPERED SOUYA! AND FOR FUCKS SAKES DONT BE A PUSSY”

An angry face once returned on souya is face as he snapped his head tk see Nahouya cackling on his motorbike with the other toman members either stiffling a laugh or a Smirk at the cute scene they just saw as he snapped his head to his brother flipping him off.

Yup… perfect date (⁎⁍̴̆Ɛ⁍̴̆⁎)

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ ©brights-place 2025 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact!

[yourekindacute]

ooo, this sounds fun! as a Playlist Person™ and someone that spends entirely too much time using the spotify app-- i can get with this

thanks for the tag @junkyardghost !

let's see what my On Repeat playlist has in store for me...

January: We Three (My Echo, My Shadow, and Me) by The Ink Spots

sounds about right (don't mind me sobbing in the corner-- self isolation woo! ...i'm working on it...) but my romantic prospects are slim and the one(s) that do exist are... confusing to say the least.

February: Juliet by Cavetown

hm yes, the depression continues. this makes sense unfortunately. but at least i have a bangin' soundtrack.

March: Jambalaya (On The Bayou) by Hank Williams

i... don't really know how to interpret this?? it's kinda a fun little love song to the bayou and a special person.

April: Hell and You by Amigo the Devil

definitely a love song... but is it love or obsession?

May: The Exorcist by CALYPSO

standing up to oppressive forces by showing how they twist their sacred texts for their own personal gain set to a funky electronic beat... intriguing?? what does this mean??

June: It's Called: Freefall by Paris Paloma

okay, okay... this is a cover. and i love rainbow kitten surprise, but paris' cover is just so soft and i really appreciate that aspect of it. this song feels like brushing yourself off after being used by people around you... and i don't know if i like the implications of that.

July: Feel Good Inc. by Gorillaz

so *cackles* this song is like-- half gibberish and nonsense until you read deeper into it i guess?? but it's happy and chill enough and i'm cool with that.

August: Wasteland, Baby! by Hozier

what a sweet and undeniable love song! hozier is The Simp™ and in all honesty if this means i'm gonna have this energy in my life, i will welcome that with open arms.

September: I Can't Decide by Scissor Sisters

*WHEEZE* what the actual hell, that's like a full 360 from the last one but okay. onto greener pastures of murder sprees i guess??

(FOR LEGAL REASONS THAT IS A JOKE)

October: Way of the Triune God - Jubilee Version by Tyler Childers

okay so this song really makes me feel connected to my spirituality (even though i'm not particularly religious) so i don't know if that means i'm going to dive further into that or what but sounds good to me

November: From Eden by Hozier

my man hozier coming in hot again with more yearning. but should someone want to yearn for me and all my flaws the way i do-- by all means, show yourself.

December: Call Me Devil by Friends in Tokyo

i-- this song is about being the villain?? am i the villain?? do i have a reason to be the villain???

I fully expected waaaay more of my grungy/alt/metal stuff in here but also-- I've been in a weird headspace as of late so *shrugs* this is what we're working with. funny how things work out that way, huh? anyway, this was fun!

no tags specifically, if anyone wants to play, feel free!

I don't know if this will catch on, but I just got inspired to start a tag game to predict how everyone's 2025 will go with a little the help of Spotify.

Rules are simple: Shuffle through your On Repeat playlist and the first 12 songs coming up represent each month of 2025.

January: 今日もひとりごと by 海羽 Very fitting, since January usually is one of my most lonely and gloomy months. So, no surprise here.

February: Little Wolf from Epic the Musical Going feral, huh? I might also find my very own Athena?

March: Ma Meilleure Ennemie by Stromae and Pomme But we're toxic for each other... damn!

April: God Games from Epic the Musical She's going to fight tooth and nail for my sake, omg! 🥹💕

May: Poison (Official Remix) by Blake Roman Still toxic, though...

June: Merry Sinsmas by Benny Bennack III Sure... why not.

July: IYKYK by XG Having some fun together (possibly in outer space?)

August: Dangerous from Epic the Musical Oh no!

September: Chk Chk Boom (Festival Ver.) by Stray Kids OH NO! Athena?

October: Hell's Greatest Dad by Jeremy Jordan and Amir Talai What? Whose Dad? I'm confused.

November: Howling by XG Just a continuation of February, I guess. Awooooh!

December: Come Play by Stray Kids and Young Miko OH SHIT?! guessilldie.jpg

(Sorry for all the silly comments, I haven't slept all night and am in a weird mood. Ignore them if you want to.)

Tagging: @literatetrashpanda @stargazing-enby @glimmah @cloudyvulpine @aatif-alam @trensu @xfangheartx @lost-romantique @sanguine-succubus @bodienne @reylokisses @luleck and literally anyone who wants to. I want this to spread! No pressure, though... as always. 💕

[gomzdrawfr]

Bam bing bong, summary of my doodles in 2024

[tetzoro]

i don’t think i’ve talked about it much on this blog because tbh it’s a really difficult thing for me to talk about in general but a year ago today, i lost my baby kitty zelda and i miss her so very much ᰔ

[todayisafridaynight]

Hey so Snap this is going to be so fucking weird, but honestly don’t care. So I was watching a clip of Drag Race Philippines and it was the make over episode and I think they were making over family members and this father was all about getting into drag. So, I just wanted to tell you never forget how much of a lovely loving kind and caring father you have, who loves you and protects you and makes you feel heard. That’s all.

i'd have to die before i forget how great my dad is thank you for the opportunity to brag about him again anon

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

(Context: I am Level 1 autistic and sometimes experience verbal shutdowns)

Things I appreciate someone doing if I’m upset and cannot talk:

- only asking one question at a time

- asking yes/no or binary questions instead of vague ones (Ex: “do you need space?” instead of “what do you need?”)

- being okay with not receiving an answer at all, and moving on (or rephrasing questions if necessary)

- accepting gesture, sign language, and/or AAC without pointing it out as unusual or joking about it

- offering comfort items or distractions, and allowing me to choose whether or not to use them myself

- treating me with respect and not talking down to me; there is a difference between being gentle and treating me like a child

- not assuming that I will regain speech as soon as I feel better

- letting me joke around and participate in conversations without speaking, even when I look happy and calm

- choosing communal activities that are low-key and don’t rely on verbal speech, such as watching a show, painting, or looking at memes together

- understanding if I need space, and leaving me be if I walk away from a conversation or leave suddenly

- letting me use comfort items and stim, even if it looks weird to you

- understanding that saying words =/= having full speech again; I usually regain echolalia before being able to generate my own sentences

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Cherry Boy. [l.c.]

Chapter One of "Losing it". Reminder that each chapter in this series is stand alone and can be read without reading any of the others!

A new relationship is always difficult to navigate, for Chan, it appears to be even more difficult. For you? You’re just left confused as to why your new boyfriend of a month and a half hasn’t made a move on you despite your very obvious attempts to invite him into your personal space.  You soon realize that your boyfriend is a virgin, and that’s why he’s always running away with his hands covering his bits, even through a simple goodnight kiss. 

ao3 | m.list | minors dni! | reblog for chan's happy trail

WORDCOUNT― 10k

PAIRING― lee chan x afab reader 

CONTENT― brief break up due to horrible communication skills, virginity loss, reader gets super insecure about her body and personality, fluff, smut obv

NOTE― This is the reason I gave chan the first chapter in the series. It's because of those pics...you know the ones. Anyway, shoutout to @ressonancee and @onlyhuis for proof reading this for me! love u guys with my entire being!

smut tags under cut:: 

SMUT TAGS― virginity loss, makeout session, neck kissing, tit fondling, unprotected sex, belly button kissing, mentions and focus on his happy trail, he’s ticklish oops, blowjob, premature ejaculation, pussy drunk chan forgets how to speak, desperate sex babbling, finger fucking, hand and cock guiding, cream pie 

~

Chan has a dilemma, and yes, it’s one that most men would scoff at. 

Trust him when he says that he is so very aware of what is happening around him but he simply cannot manage to muster up the courage, strength, or confidence to admit to you, his lovely and patient girlfriend, that he’s dodging your advances solely because he is the text-book definition of virgin. 

He is not only nervous about having sex for the first time, but there also comes the weight of him either not being good enough when he tries, or you laughing in his face and mocking him for it.

You, on the other hand, wouldn’t be so fucking in your head if he really could just muster up a tiny amount of confidence to say that to you. 

It has been almost two months now since he asked you to be his girlfriend, and throughout this time never once has he done more than a gentle kiss to your lips or lying a slight guiding hand to your waist. It feels so… juvenile, so… middle school for a boyfriend to treat you this way. 

Seeing as how the first three dates you went on with him seemed to suggest he was more than willing to be a fulfilling boyfriend who can, hopefully, fill all of the roles that comes with the title– you’re starting to second guess that he ever liked you at all.

Perhaps the twenty-four year old man asked you that night to be his girlfriend out of pity. Or maybe he’s simply changed his mind about you. Regardless of the reason for why he acts like this, it’s getting to you.

Deeply, actually, by this point. It only stung a bit at first, but now it’s starting to feel like he has to be with you as a joke. Why else would he be consistent in wanting to hang out? Why else would he always be inviting you out on well-priced dates and buying you pretty gifts? 

It’s a joke. 

It has to be a joke. 

Oh, but that’s so far from the truth. If you would simply open your eyes, perhaps you’d notice the struggle that your polite little boyfriend goes through each time you try to suggest he make an advance on you. 

Even the slight kisses, it makes him suffer from embarrassment at how quickly his body reacts to you. 

He likes you so, so fucking much.

~

“I don’t think I’m feeling it today.” You respond to the muffled voice of your “boyfriend” on the phone, asking if he can come over to see you. 

“What? Why not?” He asks back, his voice concerned. 

“Do you want me to be honest?” You finally say with a long and annoyed sigh, giving up on any hope that this relationship will ever go any further than it already has. 

You’re fed up with feeling unwanted, undesired, and possibly even uninteresting. He’s the one person in your life that you care about when it comes to who you are and what you look like. His reaction, or lack thereof, regarding you as both a person and his girlfriend feels astonishing and does nothing more than make you question what it is that you’re doing wrong. 

It has to be you, right? Perhaps your body isn’t as pretty as he wants it to be, is that it? Or maybe your voice annoys him? God, what if he cringes thinking of how you’d move if he were to actually have sex with you? What if he doesn’t think about it at all? 

You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to let the intense insecurity weigh on you. You always promised yourself that you’d never let a man make you rethink your worth. 

You need to live up to that promise. 

“Chan, it’s been nice and all, but I think we should break up.” 

The silence he offers to you is entirely too loud, and feels more like a confirmation in your head that this is the exact choice you should be making right now. 

He’s thrown for a loop though, standing at his kitchen table staring off at the wall as you say those words. 

What did he do wrong? 

“Wha–” He cuts himself off, trying to find words to say. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?” 

You let out another breathy sigh, annoyed at the way he plays dumb. 

“I’m shocked you’re asking me that. I’ve been wondering if you were ever going to break up with me yourself, y’know?” You let out a sad little chuckle before you feel that insecurity he instilled in you burn against your eyes. “I’m just making it easy for you, so that you can go and spend your time with someone that you’d rather be around.”

He pauses, still dumbfounded by what you’re saying. 

“Why are you saying that?” He bellows out in a deeper tone, making you feel as though he’s angry with you now. “I’d rather be around you.” 

“Oh? Is that right?” You roll your eyes now, annoyed. “Is that why you push me away when I try to kiss you? Or what about– what about when you left the party last week after I sat on your lap?” 

Ah. He knew it. He knew he should have admitted it. Despite his consistent apologies for his body acting on instinct to run away from you, he should have really tried to see from your point of view rather than his own. Even if he only ran to hide the fact that he is horribly aroused by you at all times, in every given moment. 

You can hear a pained groan fall from his lips, and a door opening on his end. 

“I’m coming over.” 

He doesn’t let you protest, and instead hangs up the phone. You sit there in silence at his rejection of your break up. As if it were his choice? As if he had any say in it? You want to break up, that’s final. 

Still, that doesn’t explain why you don’t call him back to tell him not to come. It also doesn’t explain why your heart is thumping against your chest in anticipation.

Or, maybe there is something to explain why you’re feeling butterflies over his blatant refusal. Perhaps, this is the first time you’ve felt wanted by him? 

That also makes it worse. Why should your boyfriend make you feel this way only when you’re breaking up with him? Why can you only see that he cares when he’s faced with the idea of losing you? By the way he’s acting, you can argue that he wouldn’t be losing anything precious to him if you were to walk out of his life right this moment. 

Still, you sit here in wait. More curious now to see if maybe you'll figure out why he refuses to look at or touch you in a way that would show you he wants you.

~

The first thing Chan does when he steps through the door of your apartment is slip his shoes off. The second thing he does is stand there awkwardly, as if every thought left his head upon seeing your face.

You look like you’ve been crying. 

“This is my fault.” He says with a slight crack in his voice. “Because I keep hiding from you….right?”

You nod silently, remaining on your couch that faces his timid and stiffened figure. 

He stares at you, examining the consequences of his own actions. 

“You want to break up because I haven’t tried to, like, do things with you.” He winces as he says it, struggling to not feel awkward talking about having sex. He’s embarrassed, but would be even more embarrassed if he lost a girlfriend over this. 

“That’s not the only reason.” You shake your head, looking away from him and to your hands as you pick at your nail beds. “I’d be okay with no sex if you’d simply tell me why. The fact that you haven’t told me anything–” Your voice cracks a little bit, feeling stupid for being so emotional over such a short lived relationship. “It kind of destroyed my confidence.”

He watches the way you refuse eye contact, which is something that stabs him directly in the stomach. He can feel it drop to the floor, adrenaline making its way into that empty space you’re creating for him. 

“Before we break up, I just want to know why it took this for you to act like you genuinely might have feelings for me.” 

He stumbles over his thoughts the same way he stumbles over his feet trying to approach you. 

By now, he doesn’t think he can ever feel more embarrassed than he does at this moment. He crouches down in front of you, sad that you didn’t laugh at the way he nearly knocked himself out on your living room floor. Then he looks at you, chasing your line of sight as if to reassure you through nothing but the air in the room.

“I was afraid you’d laugh at me.” He starts, and after seeing that your expression doesn’t change even a little bit, he continues. “You seemed so into me that I–” He takes a deep breath, willing himself to be as honest as he can be. “I just didn’t know how to act.” 

You look at him with irritation at those words. 

“Of course I was fucking into you. Why else would I have agreed to be your girlfriend?” You roll your eyes, pushing yourself back into the couch cushions and away from his crouched body. “Think about how I feel. The fact that you just watch me throw myself at you time and time again? The fact that you rejected me every single time? How is that not giving you the answers you need as to why I’m breaking up with you?”

He takes note of that heightened voice of yours, defensive and likely more hurt than you’re letting on. 

“Listen–” He breathes in, trying to internally hype himself up to bite the bullet. 

You were listening, but he’s keeping whatever it is he’s thinking about in his head for just a second too long. 

“No, I think we’re done h-” 

“I’m a virgin.” He interrupts you, lowering his gaze to the floor and refusing eye contact with you. 

Your eyes shoot to him though. The last thing you would have expected was for him to be a–

“You’re–” You try to repeat his words for confirmation, but he interrupts you again. 

“I can promise you it’s not because I don’t want to do these things with you.” He says, still staring at the floor. “It’s because I was afraid that you’d lose interest over it.” 

Your mouth falls open as you look at him, every feeling of frustration in your body disappearing almost immediately. 

“It’s because I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to, like, be any good at it.” He continues to admit. “I was trying to work up the courage to tell you, or to just like, do it.” He rambles, now scooting back and standing up to his feet. “And if you still want to break up, I understand. I just thought I at least owed you an explanation.” 

You watch as he nods to himself in an unsure way, turns on his heel, and heads back to the door to slip his shoes back on. 

You sit in stunned silence as your brain erases every single insecurity you gained over this month and a half relationship before jumping to your feet. If anyone could have been more insecure about this than you were, it was him. And now that you can see that, the guilt hits you twice as hard as the presumed break up would have. 

“You’re a virgin?” You ask, though that wasn’t at all the words you intended to say. “I mean, you kept pushing me away because you didn’t want to disappoint me?”

He nods timidly, halting his body and still refusing to look at you. 

He has one shoe on, and his other foot half in the other when you make your way over to him, closing the distance quickly and confidently.

“Don’t leave.” You say first, before physically moving his body for him to remove that foot from his half-on shoe. “Chan, I’m your girlfriend. We can wait for as long as you need, I just...”

You pause, now feeling annoyed with yourself for making it about you. Then again, it’s not like you could read his mind. Though, thinking back to all of those instances where he pulled away from you before, perhaps you could have read context clues a little better. 

“I didn’t know–” You trail off, now determined to save the relationship that both of you accidentally started to sink. “Did I make you feel like you couldn’t tell me?”

He feels…relieved by your words. Saying you could wait, asking what it is that made him so afraid to admit it. 

Finally, he presses one foot against his other, pulling his foot out of his shoe and stepping back, looking at you with eyes fonder than you’ve ever seen them.

“It’s not that I felt I couldn’t tell you. I was just embarrassed.”

You very nearly coo out at him, but you keep your distance with both your words and your body now. 

“It’s not that I’m not ready to lose it. Especially with you.” He admits, glancing at you for a reaction before sighing. “I think I’ve been ready for a long time, again, I was just embarrassed and also knew that I should probably tell you at some point…”

“You want to give your virginity to me?”

You watch as he blows his hair up through puckered lips, rolling his eyes before smiling at you.

“It’s not that I view virginity as sacred or anything either. There’s just a lot of weight that people tend to put on it, and I wasn’t sure how you’d react.” He tries to explain as his body relaxes by the minute. “I wanted you to be my first time, yeah. When I asked you to be my girlfriend, I knew I wanted you to be the one to show me what all the hype is about.”

You’d laugh if it weren’t for the fact that this is still kind of a touchy subject. You’re not entirely sure how you feel about being someone’s first time, but you know you have feelings for him and to deny him of sex after you blatantly wanted it so bad from him…Okay, maybe you’re just in your head. Of course you’d be happy to be his first time. 

Ecstatic even. 

“So….” You sway on your feet, looking up at the ceiling before landing your eyes on him playfully. “It’s not because you think I’m disgusting or like, not living up to the standards you want for a girlfriend?”

“Jesus, no.” He says. 

You watch him scratch the back of his head, still probably embarrassed by how low this relationship had fallen due to the awful communication skills. 

“And you’re also kind of admitting that you have thought about it?” You continue, prying out the words you’ve wanted to hear so badly since you met him. 

He pulls back only a little bit, his cheeks warming at the words and the way his brain automatically thrusts him into the thoughts of all of those nights where he absolutely fucking thought about it. 

“Y-yeah. Yes. I have thought about it.” He nods in a self-reassuring way as his eyes land on everything in the room but you. 

You’re quick to give him your own reassurance though, trying to learn his boundary now that the secret is out and the relationship appears to have a second chance at succeeding. 

He can feel you close in on him, wrapping your arms around his middle and nuzzling your face against his neck. There, he holds you back, breathing in deep and feeling the scent of you wash through his body. 

Quite literally actually. As he would normally avoid, his lower half reacts far too quickly to even the simplest of touches from you. 

He pulls back on instinct, but you don’t release your grip this time. 

“You seem as ready as ever, I’ll admit.” You laugh upon feeling him stiffen against you, but you really do try not to shame him for it. “Still, we can wait until you feel ready enough to give it a shot, okay?”

He nods, entirely reassured by the way you don’t press up against it or comment any further about the happenings in his pants right now. Then he sighs out. 

“I can imagine I must look like an idiot right now, getting hard over a fucking hug.” He finally says as he pulls from the hug and makes his way back to your living room. “But we’re okay, right? You’re not breaking up with me?”

You follow after him, keeping your sexual distance, but absolutely indulging in the loving, sweet, and careful cuddling you’ve wanted to do with him for so long now. 

He appears comfortable when you tuck yourself under his arm and rest your head on his chest before answering him.

“I’m not breaking up with you,” You say, feeling his chest heave with each breath and intentionally ignoring the blatant tent in his pants slowly fall back into its flaccid position as he calms down. “It’s kinda cute, you know? That you were so worried about it.” 

His cheeks are still on fire, willing his body to calm itself through this sweet session of cuddling. He doesn’t want to ruin the moment with you, and still, it is embarrassing in the way he knows you’re ignoring it for his sake too.

But goddamn, how heavenly it would be for you to like, touch it right now…..or something. 

“Never thought of it as cute, if I’m being honest.” He tries to joke. “If anything, maybe it's a little pathetic on my part.”

You shake your head against him, feeling more confident of your place in his life. 

“Pathetic? Don’t be mean to yourself. Besides, it’s kind of hot knowing that you got so turned on over a simple hug.” You laugh, hoping you’re not crossing a boundary. “No wonder you ran so fast when I sat on your lap, I definitely would have felt that on me.”

“Alright, alright–” He tries to hush you of your playful remarks, but ultimately, if you really think it’s an attractive aspect of whatever sexual dynamic the two of you will come to have, he’s going to make damn sure you see just how fucking turned on you make him. 

~

Things are good. Great even, now that you can pin point each moment your boyfriend gets a little too overwhelmed with you. He does still push you away, probably out of instinct but he doesn’t shy away nearly as much from intimate moments with you. Especially if the two of you are alone together. 

You’re a bit more careful in public or with friends though, because the last thing you want to do is make him feel insecure about it. Still, there are playful moments where you indulge in the act of touching him or kissing him just to get him excited, just to watch him stutter his way through ordering something. 

The point is, you almost ended a relationship with someone who, arguably, makes you feel more wanted than you ever knew you could. It’s nice, and it feels good. 

Even now, this is only your second full on make-out session with him, you feel absolutely adored. It’s cute in the way he’s trying to train himself to not get hard at even the simplest of touches, it’s even cuter when his efforts fail miserably and he’s arching his body away from you as if he could even hide what he’s packing. 

You don’t push for more, despite wanting it badly. He also doesn’t push…despite also wanting it just as much as you do, if not more. He still seems to need a push of confidence to actually go any further than a nice, non-body touching makeout session. 

This is fine though, and you indulge far more than you ever knew you would when it comes to this kind of thing. As if simply licking into his mouth is foreplay enough to counter a fucking blowjob for him. 

Never in your life did you think you’d be this into the fact that your boyfriend is a virgin. And it’s not even that he’s never had sex, it’s that he seems to want it so bad, and there’s just something about a man who is desperate that gets you going these days. 

Still, kissing him is something that fulfills you, especially with the way he’s avoiding his lower half and keeping it away from you. 

He kisses you back in a telling way though, more telling than that tent in his sweatpants that you can visualize even while your eyes are closed. He radiates the arousal through the way he moves his lips against yours, and the way he lets out little suffering sounds when you kiss him harder and harder. 

His hands stay against your face, neck, and sometimes your waist, but god. His kissing is genuinely just so good with the way it tells on him every few seconds. 

And when he pulls back, he’s out of breath, flushed, and looking as if he would want nothing more than for you to hint, to lay down some sort of implication that he can cling to for relief from the heaviness that’s been in his pants since the fucking relationship started.

You wonder if tonight is the night, because he doesn’t appear to want to stop making out like he did last time. If anything, as he looks at you with those heaving breaths, you can tell he’s thinking harder than he ever has about it. 

“Chan,” You whisper out to him, just inches from his face. “Do you think of me?”

When he keeps his eyes on you, seemingly stunned by your question, you continue. 

“Do you think of me after you leave? When you’re all by yourself in your room–” You turn your head so that your eyes can trail to the space he is attempting to keep from you. “When you’re touching yourself?” 

He feels the words run straight through him, causing an utterly pathetic twitch in his pants. The way your voice comes out soft and sensual as you ask him, as you look at him. He doesn’t even remember words at this moment, not even a simple “yes”. 

He tries to answer by losing a little bit of his self control, turning your head back to him with his palm just so he can chase against your lips out of the sheer arousal, but you pull away. 

“Do you?” You continue, encouraging him to answer you. 

“So much,” He wills himself to whisper confidently, ignoring the fact that his body just forced him to rut up and against nothing, all for you to see. “Every time I leave,” He puts emphasis on his words. “Sometimes I can’t even make it home first.” 

You smile at the image of him rubbing against himself in his car, so desperate to relieve himself of what you do to him each time he comes to see you. Not even making it out of the seatbelt before releasing all over himself, all in his pants. Shaking, panting, all alone and without you. 

“Cute,” You chuckle, finally turning your head slightly and landing a pop kiss on him. “I think of you when I do it too, every time you leave.” 

He looks at you, willing his hips to stay put as he thinks about the image of you doing that in this very room, to images and thoughts of him. 

“You do?” He asks for reassurance easily.

“Mhm,” You look away from him as you sit straight up and then scoot down the bed. There, you lay yourself down against your pillows and look at him. “Come here.” 

He’s reluctant to take your hand. But even he can admit that this side by side makeout session is starting to hurt his neck, and you’re clearly asking him to get on top of you right now. 

“You don’t have to but, Chan–” You say, looking down, “I don’t want you to leave this time.” 

Well, shit, all you had to do was say that. Honestly, the way you look at him with pure acceptance is enough to push him past the wall in his head that keeps him from finally trying to take the next step. You accept him as he is now, surely you’d accept him if he…. doesn’t last, right? What about if he isn’t good at it? 

Still, he finds himself planting one hand on the other side of your head to balance himself on top of you. Still just hovering, not yet wanting or willing to, you know, put it against you. 

You smile. 

“It’s okay, I can tell you’re nervous. We don’t have to do anything else, I’m happy with just this.”

And then you both fall back into another, much more comfortable and natural feeling, makeout session. 

As much as you’d love for him to try and take control, his reluctance allows you to contain yourself. It allows you to respect him and his decision of whether or not he wants to do anything more than this. Still, this satisfies you. And if he really does stay, maybe he wouldn’t be entirely against watching you take care of your own arousal for him. Maybe he’d feel better watching even, taking notes on what you like, learning where to touch you. 

And you know, that really would have been okay but you can’t help but feel like he’s definitely wanting more. With the way his lips grow hungrier rather than more tired, with the way he’s starting to moan shamelessly into your mouth, with the way his hands are trying to travel to more intimate places on your body before stopping himself. 

You might be pushing it with the assumption, but it doesn’t hurt to try and help him, right?

When you feel his hands moving to your waist, up, up, and up until they’re just barely brushing against the underside of your breast, he pulls back again and pulls your shirt down to cover the exposed skin, all while kissing you harder.

You place your hand over his, wasting not even a second as you guide him back under your shirt, right up to where you know he wants to touch. 

And holy fuck does he. He doesn’t even pull back when you lay it against the warm and exposed flesh from under your shirt. His hand immediately starts groping. His lips immediately stutter against you in a relieved sigh from him, and all you can do is kiss him now with the same energy he seems to have in that one single hand. 

“You’re allowed to touch me, but if you need help doing it, just tell me–” You pull back to whisper, trying to take it another step further in the act of kissing against his jaw and down his neck. “I want to touch you too, but I’ll keep my hands to myself unless you tell me otherwise.”

It’s like he really forgets how to talk or give proper consent when his entire body is acting like a fucking greenlight for you right now. He feels so pathetic, on the verge of orgasm with nothing more than the soft fabric of his sweatpants to relieve him, and yet your breast in his hand, nipple hardening under his palm before he musters the courage to put it between his fingers, it’s a lot to take in, okay?

Still, he tries to say something, and he’s even more embarrassed by the way his voice sounds like it isn’t even his own. He sounds broken when the sound reaches his ears. 

“Don’t–” He starts, cutting himself off at the feeling of your lips kissing against the pulse point of his neck. 

“Hm?” You ask, pulling back and away, hoping you didn’t press too much. 

“Don’t stop.” He mutters out again, a little less embarrassed now that he feels you sigh against that same pulse point with the way his fingers fondle your nipple mindlessly. “Don’t keep your hands to yourself.”

Your brain falls into a stunned silence at his words, bringing a type of nervousness to bubble up in your own body. Is this really it? Is this when it’s going to happen? On a saturday night, against your pillows, muffled cartoons playing in the background…..past ten in the evening? 

You can’t help it as you kiss against his neck. You really can’t, with the way he opens himself up to be vulnerable with you while actively being on top of you, while playing with your breasts, while containing himself.

He seems to need you to do the pushing, but you really cannot shake the nervousness of being his first. You’re almost certain he is nervous about so many things, but still he appears to be eager to try. He’s eager to be with you, and, ultimately, to know what it feels like to be with another person that matters to him in that way. 

“Is there–” You stop, breath caught in your throat, only to fall out against his throat when he finally seems to have the confidence to make his first move. One that would seem so small to anyone else, but he– he raises a hand and holds the back of your neck, trying to press your lips and guide them to the area of his neck that he wants you to kiss. 

And you do, with blatant encouragement to him for doing that, all while trying to finish your previous thought. 

“Is there anything you want me to do for you?” You ask, kissing and now, licking against the spot on his neck that makes him shiver. 

He sighs in a shudder, craning his neck to expose more skin for you before his hand stills against your nipple and he pulls his hand from your shirt. 

“All of it?” He starts, a bit unsure of himself. “Everything?” He adds, pulling himself back from your lips and watching you fall back to your pillows. He leans his body up, relieving his legs from his weight and sitting on his heels in front of you, only slightly between your legs now. 

You can see that he has a bit more confidence with the way he’s looking at you. 

“I want to try all of it.” He continues, placing two hands on your knees, pushing your legs together and using his palms to make them sway left and right. It’s as if he’s thinking hard. “I mean, if you want to.”

You smile. 

You want nothing more than to do this with him, for him, and for yourself. 

“Yeah?” You ask for confirmation, now lifting yourself and re-positioning yourself onto your knees to mimic his own stance. 

He nods in a blatant and shy way, knowing that you can physically see how badly he wants this, and how badly he wants you to be the one to do this with him. He’s achingly hard, and he isn’t sure if he’s ever managed to get this fucking hard in his entire life.

It really is painfully arousing, with the way his pants stretch against the head when he’s sitting like this. The way the fabric offers little to no sensation but while looking at you, he feels all fucked up and warm. He tries to forget that there’s precum all over him, seeping through the pants that are presented before you, and god, the way you look right at it. 

He doesn’t shy away despite being as shy as he could possibly be right now. In fact, when your eyes trail back up to him, licking your lips before smiling, he a fucking goner. He knew he wanted you bad, but never did he know he needed you this badly. 

He’s so fucking lucky. 

“It looks… big.” You comment, leaning forward only slightly and sizing your boyfriend up. “But for your sake, I’ll try to control myself from moving too fast. I’ll go slow, okay?”

He doesn’t even nod, he’s too entranced with you in front of him, fully clothed, lifting his own shirt off of him as if he is incapable of doing it himself. Then again, he kind of is incapable at this moment. He swears his IQ must’ve dropped to a single digit by this point. 

And when that shirt comes up and over his head, you note that he doesn’t even blink. That small moment where his face was obscured as you pulled it off of him? His eyes stayed on you both before and after, only now– his hair is a total fucking mess and all you can do is feel endeared by it. 

“God, you’re so fucking attractive,” You groan in sexual frustration with an eyeroll. “I can’t believe someone hasn’t jumped your bones yet.”

Now he breaks eye contact at the praise, glancing away from you and trying his hardest not to smile like an idiot at those words. 

“To be fair, I’ve fucked up my fair share of relationships being embarrassed.” He laughs. “Kinda glad I did though.”

You land your eyes back on him, staring blankly at his naked chest and trying your damnedest not to look at him like he’s some piece of meat. But goddamn, the body of this man. 

“Come here, switch places with me.” You smile, reaching forward and trying not to think too hard about the way his arms flex when you grip them to move him. “Here, lay back.” 

And within seconds, you’re between his legs and looking down at his half-lidded, arousal driven eyes. 

“Fuck, really?” You groan again, glancing away. “It’s really taking everything in me, Chan, it really is.”

His heart is doing flips as he stares up at you. He feels doted on, adored, attractive. So he encourages more of those annoyed praises from you. 

“Taking everything in you to…?” 

You chuckle, because the audacity of this drunk and in love fool. 

“Do you have any idea how badly I’ve wanted to be in this exact position?” You smile, reaching down to run your fingers down his chest and straight to that happy trail that he so readily hid from you. “It’s taking everything in me to slow down–”

“Then don’t.” He says proudly, albeit still a bit shy at your words. 

You can see how red his ears are, only partially hidden by that head of messy ass hair. His stupid pretty eyes and gentle smile are directed straight at you without any type of reluctance. 

“There’s my confident boyfriend.” You chuckle, toying with the hair beneath his belly button and trying to not comment on the way his body jumps a bit at the feeling. “Was wondering where he went after he asked me to be his girlfriend.”

And he remains silent after that, watching the way you take the reins and lean down to kiss against that same spot of his neck. Warm breath fanning over the skin before attaching yourself there. 

Surely you can feel the way his hips react, humping up at each flutter of your lips. If you couldn’t, he knows for a fact that you’ll be able to now. With the way you trail down, across his own sensitive nipples, and then down, down, down. 

He glances down at you at the same time when you glance up at him and right then and there he thinks he melts. He’s never seen a woman look at him from this angle, and it’s only a little bit detrimental to his heavy and pathetic cock. The twitching never stops, he feels so fucking sticky in his pants and it really just doesn’t stop. Continuous leaking, and he really had no idea that there could even be this much pre-cum. 

Then, he’s pulled out of his thoughts with….a tickle?

“Oh?” You smile, leaning down to repeat that lick up his happy trail before landing a kiss straight on his belly button. 

His body jumps again, and he lets out a moaned chucked unintentionally. 

“Oh.” You smile wider, gripping both of his hips with your hands and holding him down in a playful way. Repeating the act once again. 

Your suspicions are confirmed with a third jump of his body, and another chuckled, frustrated moan. 

“So, he’s ticklish too?” You say with another kiss against his belly button before fluttering your fingers at the side of his hips. 

His entire body goes rigid before melting against the bed in an attempt to not react to the way you take advantage of a hidden weakness he had. God, he should have known that…like, sex stuff could be ticklish. 

“No– I’m not.” He lies, jolting again when you continue to test the resilience he thinks he has against your lips and fingers. “Hey–!”

And, well, you would’ve stopped if it weren’t for the fact that his hips raise with each tickled sensation, and you can genuinely feel how damp and heavy he is in his pants. It’s entirely arousing in the way its weight is obvious through his attempts to wiggle from your ticklish touches. 

“Alright,” You finally relent, landing one final kiss to his belly before licking down that same line of hair he offers his body. “Chan, I want to–”

His hips immediately raise to your words, the wetness from your tongue feels like ice against his skin when the air hits it and at this point, he thinks he knows what you’re suggesting. 

“Please–” He nearly cries out in a stutter. “Touch it.”

You smile as you nuzzle your nose against his abdomen before giving him a short nod that you know he doesn’t see. Considering, well, he just threw his arm over his face and keeps his hips tensed, and his ass only slightly lifted off of the bed. 

Desperate. Willing. 

You prepare yourself for seeing it for the first time by not seeing it at all just yet. Instead, you kiss down until your lips are met with warm, damp fabric. Immediately you can feel his length twitch under your lips when you reach it, and all you can manage to do is flatten your tongue out and against it to feel it pulse again. 

And again, until that same arm thrown over his face reaches down in a desperate attempt to take the pants off for you. He’s the one losing his self control now, no embarrassment or nervousness in sight from him, and it’s so fucking attractive to see him do it.

His shaking fingers fumbling with the waistband, shoving the pants down just an inch or so more to reveal more of that trimmed hair.

You don’t comment on the way he’s acting out of fear that it’ll make him feel shamed or even mocked, despite you truly believing it might just be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen a man do in front of you. 

Instead, you help him. Sinking your own fingers beneath his pants and tugging them down all in one go before allowing your eyes to land on it. 

“Jesus fucking christ.” He moans out, the air alone offering an overwhelming amount of sensation due to the temperature change he now feels between his legs. 

You finally look at it, so dark in color. As if all of the blood in his body resides only here. You gently move your hand just over it, feeling the heat radiate from him, seeing the precum continuously dribble from the head, and then, finally– 

“You’re so….” You trail off, in awe of the way his body just….keeps reacting. So much pre-cum. “Hard.” 

He releases a broken little sound at the feeling of your fingers finally touch him, and it feels insanely different from when he touches it himself. As if he’s not in control of his pleasure, and it’s all just you. You are the one who feels good against him. 

You’re shocked briefly when his hand makes it’s way back down to yours, grabbing it and essentially trying to get you to stimulate him more. He puts so much pressure against your hand, sandwiching it between his own palm and stiffened cock. 

You’re tuly in awe. This man has essentially edged himself to a world record, surely. 

“Slow down,” You try to soothe him, moving your hand against him and watching him retract his hand. “Relax, It must feel good, right?”

That little sob he lets out shows you his frustration. So needy, so ready. And even with you moving your fingers to circle his pulsing length, his hips continuously fuck up, not allowing him to have even a moment without a forceful amount of stimulation. 

“So good,” He moans, entire brain focused on what your hand is doing and unable to open his eyes. “I want it so bad.”

You don’t think he hears you chuckle and you’re thankful he doesn’t. You can imagine he would genuinely be embarrassed to know you’re witnessing his pure blissed-out and aroused-state of mind right now. 

And it’s not shocking that he’s entirely focused on himself at this moment, because he’s the one experiencing this for the first time. Even if you find it hard to believe that another woman has never touched his dick, you’re entirely flattered that it very well may be the case and that he wanted you to be the one to make him feel this good. 

“I’ll give it to you, just relax. I’m not going to stop.” You reassure his needy movements, and the way his body squirms at the slightest of touches. “What feels good?”

God, he’s so frustrated. 

“All of it.” He groans shortly, trying to take in a deep breath and just relax like you asked him too. 

You nod to his closed eyes and slacked mouth, fighting against his hips to be the one to pleasure him rather than himself and only when you blow a gentle breath against the head of his cock do his hips still and he shoots his hands up to your pillows, gripping them as if he’s preparing for something. 

You watch intently at the way he’s actively fighting to move now, waiting impatiently for you to do something now. Licking his lips, chewing on his bottom lip– god, he’s so pretty up there. 

Then, you grant him a new sensation. Only because by this point you’re the one who is about to lose control. 

You stick out your tongue and lick all the way from his balls to the head of his cock, making sure to keep pressure against it so that you can taste all of the arousal he’s spilled up until now. And while you were going to pull back to examine his reaction, this is the part where you release your self control.

The taste alone was enough to have you moaning, vibrating your voice against the vein of his length and then circling your lips around the head. 

Instantly, you suck at the feeling of pre-cum still pouring out of him. This time, there seems to be more. Coating your tongue with an almost sweetened salty taste. 

You feel briefly the way his hips chase the new warmth, clearly wanting to tuck itself into your mouth and quite possibly, down your throat, but you pull back and blow once again against the head. 

His entire body shivers as you glance up at him. 

You can barely comprehend just how into you he looks right now before rolling your own eyes in arousal at the image before immediately giving him everything your mouth has to offer.

Who cares if he comes too fast? Fucking look at him. You’d be stupid not to suck the absolute life out of him! That’s your boyfriend up there, chewing on his bottom lip, eyes sparkling through hooded lids, chest heaving–

And god, you almost wish he wasn’t as big as he is because it’s difficult to keep your eyes open when you take it in. You have to focus on sliding it through your lips, against your tongue, and right up to the back of your throat where the head of his cock bumps.

He can feel the way your fingers grip his legs through it, and by this point he has gone entirely non-verbal at the feeling. 

The only sound he can make comes from deep within his chest, and he can only release those sounds with heaved out and rigid breaths. His heart is pumping faster and faster the deeper you managed to take him, and–

“Ah! W-wait!” He panics, sitting straight up and becoming fucking floored at the way you stay on him. Moving your hands to his stomach and trying to shove him back. “Fuck,” He seethes as he takes in a sharp inhale, legs shaking as he flops back against the pillows. “Fuck, i’m sorry.” He continues to murmur, feeling himself hit the wall of orgasm and practically pulverize it. 

And you, oh, you. You taste it. You feel the twitching and the way his muscles stiffen under your fingers. You can hear him muttering apologies as it spills into your mouth, down your throat, and even out of the corners of your lips. 

You try to take all of it, up until you can’t fucking breathe, and only then do you pull up and replace your mouth with your hand, watching in awe at the way he just……

It doesn’t fucking stop. 

He went from rigid to stammering his words, to now blatantly and full-on moaning through both the pleasure and frustration of losing the warmth of your mouth. 

“God, Chan….” You whisper in a raspy voice, slowing your hands and intentionally pumping it out of him by now. 

“I’m sorry–” He stammers, body still shaking as you pull the rest of it out of him. “I tried to,” He winces with another unintentional moan. “I didn’t think it would feel that good.”

You smile both proudly and fondly, watching him stumble through his words and whatever excuse he tries to come up with. 

“I don’t think you know how hot you look right now.” You finally say, in a more stern voice. “You couldn’t have stopped me if you wanted to.” 

Only now, when he’s absolutely drenched himself in his release does he open his eyes in a drowsy way. He looks at you and that little smile on your lips and decides that, yeah, he can believe you. He trusts you, and he’s entirely obsessed with you. 

“But we still haven’t–”

You cut him off quickly.

“We have all night. All day tomorrow. All week, month, year. I don’t care.” You dead-pan, reaching for his, somehow, still hard length. “Chan.” You add, gripping it and testing the actual hardness of it. “You’re still hard, which is fucking amazing by the way, and you have no idea how wet I am right now.”

Oh, my god. He forgot. 

“You– you’re turned on?” He asks, looking away from you. 

“So fucking turned on.” You confirm for him, now releasing his length to give him a bit of a rest, considering he must not realize he’s still shaking. “Look, feel.” 

You say it as you crawl up and on top of him, seating yourself right up against his abdomen and grabbing his hand. 

He just stares, watching you guide his hand straight to the seat of your shorts. 

“Oh.” He sighs out. 

“Even through my shorts. See? Feel it.” You continue to move his hand against you, trying not to rut your own hips up much like he was doing before. 

Brain malfunction. He doesn’t even have a fucking IQ at this point as his cock immediately reacts in all of it’s sensitive, pathetic glory. 

“Do you want me to, um,” He swallows around a breath he didn’t know he needed. “touch you? Can I try?”

You sigh, relieved that he’s willing and immediately push yourself off of him and take care of all of the busy-work as quickly as possible. ie: taking off your clothes.

Unfortunately, you somehow briefly forgot that the man is still a fucking virgin. You can very nearly see his mouth fall open at your nude body being revealed to him. Even more so, you can see the dribble of saliva that he doesn’t quite catch fast enough, and his cock reacts. 

“You’re so cute, god.” You praise with the same compliment you’ve been giving him all night. 

And when you seat yourself next to him, hugging one of his arms and tucking it between your legs before closing your thighs around it, you smile at him and the way he literally cannot stop staring with his mouth agape. 

“Babe, you’re drooling.” You chuckle, shifting your hips a bit to rub yourself against his knuckles, where you’re still hugging his arm. 

Only then does he slurp up his embarrassment and try to remain calm. His fogged brain comes back to him quickly upon your comments as he wills himself to sit up beside you. 

He gets to….touch you. 

And boy does he. 

Eagerly, messily, and quite frankly, kind of embarrassingly. 

You make it easier for him though, laughing as you flop back and spread your legs for him. He’s quick to simply…explore. He’s not aiming for any singular area of your pussy because to be quite honest, he’s still struggling to stop staring at the entirety of you. 

You watch his eyes, the way they stare at your tits, then your thighs, your pussy being petted by his fingertips, and then– eye contact. 

He seems so sure of himself despite still managing to barely touch the clit. It doesn’t bother you one bit, because his eager fingers still find ways to touch you beautifully. There’s so much intent behind the messy movements. 

Slipping and sliding two fingers between your lips, up your folds, and then stopping just short of your clit before sliding back down and feeling where his cock would go if he manages to make it this far. 

I mean, surely he will, right? He’s losing his virginity as he does this right now, even. Foreplay still counts, right? 

And then, after several minutes of him exploring, learning, and practically teasing you half to death, you reach down to guide him. 

“Right here,” You soothe out in a soft voice, pressing his fingers against your clit and seeing him take note of it. “And here.” You trail his fingers down until they reach your clenched hole, and you very slightly press against his fingers so that the tips just barely enter you. 

He tilts his head at you, concentrating on where you lead him before releasing his hand and essentially leaving him to his own devices now. 

And you know, he did tell you he was a quick learner, because almost immediately he’s experimenting with putting a finger into you, and using his other hand to find a rhythm to rub against your clit. 

The whole time, he checks for your reaction, noting when your breathing hitches and when your body tenses. He continues, trying to only do things that make your body react and soon, you’re already turning to mush beneath him.

His fingers circle and tap your clit at a quick pace, with the other twisted inside of you. When he slides his finger out, and then back in, he rubs your clit harder, and god, yeah. Okay. You see his effort, and it’s such a good fucking effort too.

“Feels good,” You finally moan out for him, allowing yourself to give in to the pure arousal of the entire situation taking place. Thinking hard about what it would feel like to have such a desperate cock inside of you. “Use two fingers?” 

He listens instantly, moaning along with you when he slides the other in with the next thrust. His fingers against your clit trail down shortly after, curiosity getting the best of him when he spreads your lips open to see you stretch around his fingers. 

“It’s so warm–” He comments more to himself than to you, watching the way you pulse around him, watching the way your slick seeps out of you. It’s so hot for him to see it up close like this, and his pace slows at the image before him. “Can you take more than two?”

You lift your head in amazement at how he could ask such a thing. 

“Chan.” You smile at the way he jumps in surprise at your sudden, louder voice. Fingers nearly slipping out of you. “I can take way more than just two fingers.” You glance down between his legs. “Way, way more.”

He glances down to what you’re looking at before letting out an embarrassed sob.

“You’re really going to let me?” He nearly whines in excitement. 

You nod, reaching for him and pulling him to you by his shoulders. You land a kiss against his lips, trying not to shake at the way his fingers angle different inside of you as he moves to chase your lips.

“Mhm,” You soothe against his lips, intentionally scooting your hips down to your best ability to sink his fingers into you more. “Move your fingers– it feels good like this.”

He listens, feeling you throw your arms around his neck and cling to him through it, all while moaning and groaning right up against his lips. You’re not even kissing him, you’re just….acting like this and it’s fucking great.

He thought he would be the only one to be desperate in this situation, yet here you are, clinging to him as he works his fingers in you. 

“When?” He finally asks upon noting the way you start to move your hips against his fingers. 

You peek your eyes open and pull back to look at him. 

“Now? Do you want to do it now?” 

He nods, slipping his fingers out of you and inspecting how wet they’ve become. 

“Can I?” 

You finally fall back, leaning against your elbows and spreading your legs wide in front of him. Lending him a nod, you watch the way he just freezes after the fact. 

All you can do is laugh at this moment with the way he loses any ability to remember how sex works. 

Then again, you wonder if he ever even watched porn, considering how he’s acting and couldn’t manage to find the clit. 

“Do you want me to be on top?” You question, blinking up at him and his blank expression.

He shakes his head at you, still frozen in his spot before his eyes slowly make their way down to the glistening sheen against your pussy. 

“Don’t we like, need a condom or something? I can’t promise I’ll be able to pull out.” He asks, finally glancing away. “I don’t know if I can last as long as you want me to….”

And with that, all you do is lunge forward, grab your boyfriend by the cock, and pull him to you. 

He laughs, you laugh, and then it’s silent when he leans over you, feeling his length lay against your core, already feeling spent but so, so ready to give himself to you. 

“I’m on birth control. You don’t need to pull out.” You smile evilly, wiggling your hips and watching the way he closes his eyes tightly as if to regain his composure of those words. 

“I’m seriously in love with you.” He mutters, pushing his hips forward and letting his length slide through the mess he made of you. 

You smile, feeling that by this point, your face may actually be stuck like this permanently, and lift your head to kiss against his lips once more. 

“You’re ready?” You ask quietly, against his lips. “I can help you adjust to where it needs to be. After that, I want you to do what feels best for you, okay?”

He nods timidly, taking in a deep and nervous breath before feeling your hand guide his length to the opening. 

“Go on, slide in it.” You encourage him. 

And he does. 

Slowly at first, gently, until he feels your wet hot walls envelop the head of his cock in full, clenching, pulling him in. 

His arms shake from either side of your head as he balances himself there, and it doesn’t take long for him to drop his head against your shoulder in deeper breaths than he was taking before.

The sensation is so much, it’s no wonder people like to have sex. It’s so good, you feel so, so good around him. He can’t help it when he slides in deeper, not stopping until he’s releasing a wet moan against your shoulder and holding onto you as if his life depends on it. 

He thought that once he got it all the way in, it would get easier. But it doesn’t. Even as the two of you are unmoving, with your hands in his hair and soothing him through it, you still clench him. Your pussy still stimulates it without either of you doing a damn thing.

You on the other hand, won’t admit to struggling through that one, long and languid thrust inside of you. It felt as if he was splitting you open despite how wet you already were, and still are. The heaviness, the consistent twitching, all of it stretches you out more than you even knew you’d need and god, it feels so good to have him just hold onto you like, to have him adjust to the feeling. 

He’s no longer a virgin, and that’s not even what matters right now. 

What matters is the way he continuously nuzzles his nose against you, snaking his head to your neck and moaning consistently against your ear when he manages to finally move. 

He pulls out only a little bit before his hips stutter at the sensitivity, then he pushes back in. 

In and out, in and out, until–

“Fuck.” He moans, lifting suddenly from your neck, sitting up, staring directly  at where his cock sits inside of you, and he just… lets go.

Knuckles white against the grip of your waist, he powers through the sensitivity, he fucks through it. Fast, with no real rhythm or ability to realize just how deep he’s pushing himself into you, and then….

He’s done for. 

“That’s it,” You encourage him through half moans at the feeling, your swollen clit begging for a little bit of attention too. “Shit, Chan, that’s it.” You continue, losing yourself in his reaction to you. 

He only moves faster, his hips only stutter more, and thank fuck he already came once because he wouldn’t have made it a solid inch into you before coming undone if he hadn’t. Now though? He’s pleasantly surprised to be lasting even this long. 

Until he’s not, of course. 

And there, between your legs, he presses in as far as he can reach and loses his breath. 

Eyes rolling back, eyebrows furrowing, mouth agape, a deep moan rumbles from his chest as his shiver flows through his body at the first release inside of you.

You immediately shoot your hands to your clit, feeling it pump inside of you much like it did in your mouth. Already so much, you feel entirely full, and entirely ready if he can manage to keep coming for as long as he did before. 

You fingers assault the swollen nub so fast, working yourself up much like you would during a quick session of masturbation, not wanting him to miss out on what it feels like to have a girl come on him– 

It hits you faster than you can realize. 

Even when he buckles and falls back to your chest out of breath, you can’t even tell him that it’s happening. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t move just yet. Well, until he feels your pussy clench him tigher than before. In a rhythmic way, almost. 

Only barely can he lift his head to watch you, and that’s when he notes that you’re holding your breath. 

You pussy is pulsing, and then–

“Are you?” He questions, experimenting with the idea of trying to thrust into you as he asks. 

There’s the breath you’d been holding. 

“Yes!” You call out, both to answer his question and to appreciate that little thrust he gave you.

Even if his cock is slowly becoming flaccid, you’re still full, and he can still feel the orgasm wash over you. 

He’s silent through it, wincing at his hyper-sensitive cock and very nearly cursing it out for not having waited just a minute longer to release– then, you’re hugging him. 

Tightly. So tightly, you’re holding onto him and breathing into his hair. He can barely breathe himself with this hold you have on him. Still, he doesn’t fight it, he simply lets you. 

Letting you cling, letting the last jolting pulses of your core push the rest of him out of you. There, he manages to lift from your weakening grasp and throw himself beside you. 

Out of breath, sweating, a total mess, he looks at you like he truly will never be able to love another person the way he does right now. 

And it falls silent for a long while before you roll over, throwing both an arm and leg over him. 

“Man,” You sigh out. “How does it feel?” You ask this time, opening your eyes to playfully look at him.

“Huh? What?” He asks, quirking a brow. 

“You know, now that you’re not a virgin anymore. How does it feel?” 

He thinks hard for like two seconds before taking in a deep breath and smothering himself against the top of your head. 

“Like I’m in love with you, maybe.”

And you know, given that this relationship is barely even considered one in the eyes of most people. You don’t think you care. 

“Because I made you feel good, or because you want to let me make you feel good for like…” You pause, lifting your head to look him in the eye. “the rest of your life?”

He doesn’t even have to think twice. 

“The second reason.” 

“You’re such a simp, Chan, really.” You joke, skewing your head fondly to look at him. “But I think it’s worth a shot.”

~

Chapter two: LOSER. [wonwoo] ― coming soon!

series m.list