#i think about p|s but i refuse to write anything

[angelicjas]

"WHY DONT YOU LOVE ME DADDY ? "

starring ꒱ gojo, s. geto, k. nanami.

sum ꒱ plethora of jjk men to fuel your daddy issues — which we all know you secretly have

wc: 2.3k

@warnings! ꒱ daddy!kink, age gaps, p in v, basic sex stuff, filthy smut, cumming inside, cunnilingus, degrading, praise, not rlly proof read, kind of buns but oh well. dumbification kinda, i think thats it lmk if not !!

SATORU GOJO; the sugar daddy.

that new bag you eyed for 2 seconds last week? you find it on the dining table with a note that simply writes, ‘enjoy baby!’. your amazon cart? shein cart? bought with fast shipping, no matter how expensive or full it is. those cute pants you keep seeing everyone on tiktok gloating about? bought and on your nightstand.

satoru, loved to spoil his baby in all sorts of shiny jewels and designer, he loved to see the big smile on your face no matter how many times he’s bought you things. when you go out for girls night? he’s sending you with a stack of money, the size and weight of atleast 1000 dollars cash, throwing it down as if it was a mere 20, his only request was to call him if you or your girls needed anything.

but what satoru loved most, was buying you pretty lingerie.

“mmh!- fuck. .” pap, pap, pap. was the only sound that could be heard in your shared bedroom, your body was wrapped in a light blue lace satoru had bought you, the light color matching his eyes beautifully, the panties were pulled to the side, since he claimed he just ‘had to fuck you with it on.’

“fuck baby, you look so gorgeous with this. .” he pants in your ear heavily, he had your legs on his shoulders, ankles to his ears,

“yeah, mmph- you’re taking me so well baby.”

you could barely register his words, the only thing on your mind was how fucking deep he was, you could feel him in your stomach as he hits that spongey spot deep inside over and over.

your jaw seemed to be stuck in a permanent ‘o’ shape, the only thing coming out of your mouth was the pornagraphic moans that you couldn’t seem to hide even if you wanted too.

your body was bouncing with every thrust, your eyes rolling to the back of your head on a particularly hard thrust.

“yeah, fuck- mhm, you look so fucking pretty, holy shit.” gojo never seemed to shut up during sex, even as he moans inbetween every word. he just felt like he had to let you know how good you look and feel.

the pleasure he was feeling made his body want to roll his head back so bad, but he refused to look away from the fucked out expression on your face.

gojo could also never keep his hands off you, caressing your hips, to your waist, down your arms.. groping and pawing at any skin he could get his greedy hands on.

his mouth was no better, when he wasn’t talking your ear off he’s kissing you sloppily, mostly containing of teeth clashing and tongues colliding more then actual lips touching, or kissing down your neck in a poor attempt to muffle his moans.

“t-toru!” you barely whimper out as more tiny ‘ah, ah, ah!’s leave your lips, he shushes you gently with a sinister grin plastered on his face. “I know baby, I know. you can take it though right?” he whispers moving his head next to your ear, nipping at your skin lightly.

“hmm?” he hums in question, as if you were even able to answer.

“yes!, yes! holy fuck, yes!” you weren’t even quite sure what you were saying yes to at this point, the repeated jabs to your g-spot making you dizzy, you could feel the pleasure slowly become overwhelming.

“mmm,” he hums and speeds up his hips impossibly faster, causing more moans to usher past your lips unexpectedly. he tilts your chin to look at him, making you kiss him as your teeth bump together and your tongue’s tie. “good fucking girl.”

he breathes into your mouth as his eyebrows furrow, he knows you’re just as close as he is.

“g-g’nna cum!” you just barely find the words as you had been fucked utterly senseless. he hums in delight into your mouth before pulling away, kissing and sucking at your neck sloppily,

“cum baby, please.” he begs as he feels you clench around him and chant his name like a mantra.

hearing his name swarm out of your mouth mixed with the way your tightness squeezed around his cock, it sent him over the edge aswell, moaning even louder then you as he buries himself deep in your wetness, letting the ropes of his warm cum spill into you.

SUGURU GETO; the kids you babysits daddy.

It’s probably wrong, the way the same night you tucked his girls into bed after reading them a sweet story, you’re downstairs getting fucked over the kitchen counter.

it was a side gig, an attempt as a broke college student to get some money, eventually you grew to love the two girls you babysat as if they were your own. it also helped that their dad was a fucking smokeshow.

the way you’d run home and tell your girlfriends all about how hot the kids you babysit's dad is, “id call him daddy.” you speak into the phone as you all giggle, in that moment you can also feel your heart drop to your stomach as you hear someone clear their throat from behind you.

“call who daddy sweetheart?” you hear your friends exchange “ooo��s” and laughs through the telephone as you slowly turn around, much to your horror, and see the same man you were just erotically speaking about..

“such a whore baby, is this really the way my children's babysitter should be acting? hm?” he had you in a mean arch, pounding mercilessly into you, the only sound throughout the kitchen being your muffled moans and the squelching beneath you two. you were bent over the kitchen counter, the same one you’ve made the girls food countless time.

it was wrong, you’re sure of that, but its hard to think about that when the only thing on your mind is how fucking deep he was, you swore you could feel him rearranging your guts with each harsh thrust, he knows how to hit that spongey spot deep inside with perfect precision over and over, much better then all those stupid college hook-ups you had.

“s-sugu!, so deep! . . s-shit!” you hear a menacing laugh behind you, mocking you.

realistically, suguru always knew you found him attractive. he could tell by the way your eyes lingered a little to long when you thought he wasn't paying attention, but he always was. he kept a keen eye on you because, frankly, he was also head over fucking heels.

he thought you were the cutest little thing, always showing off in those cute dresses and skirts that hugged your body so tightly, even the days where you wore sweatpants and tracksuits he found himself drooling, still imagining what was underneath.

call him a pervert all you want, especially going for a girl so much younger, so naive. but you were just as much of a pervert. always bending over a little to far in front of him, showing off your cute dainty panties. hugging him a bit to tightly as you left, making sure your boobs pressed riiiight up against him.

which is why he wasted no time bending your little slutty ass over as soon as he could.

“cmon baby, do what you told your friends, yeah?” his head tilts lower, giving open mouth kisses over your neck and down your back, groaning against your skin everytime he feels you clench around his cock.

“mmm-!” you could barely form a coherent thought, hearing the ‘schlick, schlick, shlick’ noises of your messy cunt drooling around him.

“f-fuck! can’t- jesus-!” you stutter out, your eyes crossing as you throw your head back impossibly farther, making suguru reach for your hair and grab it into a sloppy ponytail.

he pulls you by the makeshift pony so your right up next to his own face, “not gonna ask again, little girl.” the husk in his tone, the vile words he’d say, all made you clench tighter and moan louder, biting your bottom lip until it was raw and swollen from trying to contain them.

“s-sorry!” you moan out, the sound of your skin clapping with the wet noises echoing louder throughout the kitchen.

“daddy! fuck fuck- daddy, daddy, daddy!” you can barely contain your screams as he hushes you gently, all with the same sly smirk on his lips that hasn’t left ever since he walked in on your little phone conversation.

“thatsss it,” he groans feeling his own orgasm creeping up. “atta girl, so fucking good.” you felt like you could cum from his words alone, tightening around his shaft once you feel that familiar pleasure consume you.

“c-c’mming!” is all you can manage to get out before it hits you like a fucking train. your legs are shaking, eyes rolled back, uncontainable moans spilling from your lips.

looking at your disheveled state, suguru moans against you burying himself deeeep inside your tummy, what really pushed him over that edge was one more small tight hug from your pussy, causing warm ropes to shoot into you as you squirm, still trying to recover.

“whoopsies, maybe you’ll just have to carry our own kids, hm?”

oh fuck.

KENTO NANAMI; daddy issues daddy.

your relationship with your father was…never great, to say the least, it caused a few problems in your life, sure, but the main one, was the attraction you had in much older men. your friends never understood, i mean, why don’t you want a young guy that can handle you? or a guy your age you can grow old with?

they didnt understand, of course they wouldnt. an older man can throw you around much better then any young guy you’ve been with ever could.

which is why nanami, who you happen to meet at a bar, is practically your dream man ever since the moment you laid eyes on him.

“come here often handsome?” you sit next to him with a seductive smile, leaning your elbow on the bar and resting your cheek on it. he simply turns to look at you, and with an amused huff shakes his head.

“very nice sweetheart,” you can feel your heart swoons at the name. “but im far to old for you.” tch, yeah right.

you aren’t exactly sure how you got where you are now, whether it was the booze, your head being clouded with lust, or maybe both, but your seated in the back of his fancy ass car, with him between your legs.

“you don’t have to do that y’know, if you don’t want too.” you pant looking down at him, I mean afterall no man you’ve ever known has ever really wanted to eat pussy. yet, he still shoots you a perplexed look, shaking his head aggressively.

“I want to,” the words catch you off guard yet make the ache between your thighs even louder. “need to teach you how a real man does it, hm?”

you moan simply at his words and nod your head, throwing your head back as he continues his work kissing along your thighs, humming here and there.

he eventually, comes face to face with your glistening cunt, blowing on it causing your legs to squirm shut, before he quickly grabs ahold of them, now putting your knees allll the way up to your chest, you whine at this before it quickly gets cut off with a real moan once he swipes his tongue through your folds, humming into your wetness.

his tongue swirls around, collecting and swallowing every ounce of your slick as if he was a dehydrated puppy. you’ve never been eaten out with so much . . pleasure? every guy that’s done it before was either terrible at it, completely missing and licking the lips, or just plain hated it anyway.

“mmh- shit. . . feels s’ good.” your head lolls back and more whimpers escape past your lips blissfilly, his lips curl to suckle your sensitive clit, causing you to grab at his hair and whine loudly.

“fuck- so needy baby.” he pants into your soaked hole, mixed with your arousal and his spit. “she’s never been treated right has she? poor thing.” he coos and speaks to it as if it was a real person,

the filthy wet noises emitting from between your thighs only turned you on more, between the constant torture to your clit mixed with his dirty talk? you knew you were a goner soon.

his tongue explored you as much as he could, thrusting the wet muscle into your opening as you needily moan from above him, the grip on his once put together hair, becoming tighter. he sped up, tongue lapping at your essence as he switches between suckling on your clit, to drinking up your dampness.

“s-shit! wait- . . nanami!” the sudden change in pace causes your legs to shake and much louder moans to escape your lips.

unfortunately, everyone that could see the car definitely knew what was going on inside. not only could they hear, but could probably see the car shaking.

your head flew back and your legs attempted to clam together again before a harsh smack! landed against your thigh, causing a whimper to escape your lips.

“keep ‘em open.” the man speaks between your thighs.

“’m close, so f’ckin close-!” the windows were fogged with heat already, nanami slurping at a quickened pace, never failing to reach the most sensitive parts inside of you.

you can feel your climax approaching, the warmth in your belly growing with lust,

“cum.”

was all it took for your legs to shake and your body to writhe and twist above him, he continues to gulp at your creaminess until you ride out your orgasm and have to practically push him off of you.

“wanna see how a real man fucks angel?”

hell yeah you do.

-

toji was supposed to b in this but i got lazy

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

Hello lovely!! I saw your post that you're open to request, can I request a male reader x phainon with breeding kink, you can also add any kinks you want! I adore your writing sm (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) (🤍)

ALL MINE

★ tws : nsfw / smut, breeding kink, male!reader, orgasm denial/edging, cockwarming, a lil praise, multiple of rounds, degradation, slight dumbfied reader at the end and lots of cum. mdni : 18+ only.

★ sum : you’re are phainon’s precious boy. And he’s gonna fill you up until you’re leaking and begging for more.

★ note : not proofread, I’m too lazy to correct my mistakes.

You don’t know what you said.

Maybe you called him pretty. Maybe you teased him in that little smug voice you always do, saying something about how he couldn’t last without touching you. Maybe you just looked at him for too long.

Whatever it was, it broke something in Phainon.

His clothes hit the floor. His pants tossed aside with trembling fingers. And now?

You’re on your back, legs trembling around his hips, clawing at the sheets while his cock pulses deep inside you—raw, hot, unrelenting.

“Haaah… ngh—Phainon…”

“Shh. Take it. You can take it.” He growls into your neck, voice deeper, rougher than you’ve ever heard it. “You’re mine, aren’t you? My pretty boy. All fucking mine.”

He thrusts in, hard, like he’s trying to plant his whole soul inside you. You jolt, a broken moan spilling from your lips as he grinds his hips down, refusing to pull out.

“P-Phai—fuck, baby, you’re s-so deep, you’re—”

“Say it,” he snaps. “Say you want me to breed you.”

You whine. He grabs your hips and slams in again, dizzying you with the weight of his cock, his heat, the thick length dragging along all your spots like he knows them by instinct.

“Phainon, I—I want it,” you gasp, arching up against his chest. “Fuck, I want your cum, I want you to fill me, please—”

“There it is.” He kisses you, messy, almost angry with how much he wants you. “You don’t even know how many times I’ve dreamed of this. Of stuffing you full, making sure it takes. Again. And again. Until you can’t think about anything except how full I got you.”

He fucks you with purpose. Long, deliberate thrusts, then a sharp grind that leaves you gasping. You’re clenching around him so tight he groans, head dropping to your shoulder.

“Feel that?” he huffs. “That’s my cock. That’s your lover—ruining you.”

You nod, tears pricking your eyes from the pressure of it all. “Y-Yeah… yeah, ruin me…”

Phainon growls, lips brushing your ear. “Don’t tempt me. I’ll keep you like this. Warm, dripping, so full you forget what it’s like to be empty. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You can’t even speak. Just a nod. Just a wrecked moan.

He reaches down and grips your cock, already leaking. “You’re not allowed to cum yet,” he says sweetly, cruelly. “Not until I’m sure my seed’s in you. Not until you’re bred.”

You cry out, hips bucking—and he pins you down with a firm hand on your stomach.

“Don’t move.”

He starts thrusting harder. Faster. His balls slap your ass with every thrust, lewd, wet, devastating. His cock pulses and you know it’s coming.

Then—

“Fuck—fuck—take it—” he snarls, slamming in and staying there as his cock throbs. And pulses. And pulses.

Hot, thick cum floods into you. Rope after rope. So much it aches. So much it leaks out around the base of his cock, dripping down your thighs, soaking the sheets.

He doesn’t move. Just keeps himself buried to the hilt, panting over your shoulder, muttering how perfect you are, how tight you are, how he’s not done.

You’re still shaking when he pulls your hips up and says with a hungry smirk,

“Let’s make sure it takes.”

Your legs are already shaking—and he hasn’t even let you cum yet.

Phainon’s voice is low, his breath hot against your ear, and his cock is buried deep inside you, pulsing with each heavy grind of his hips.

“Still holding back for me?” he murmurs, smirking against your neck. “Good boy. That’s it. Stay just like that for me, yeah?”

You whimper, your arms trembling from where they’re locked around his shoulders. “P-Phainon, I—please—”

“Please what?” he coos, slowly thrusting in again, so slow it’s maddening. “Please ruin you? Please fill this tight hole up with my cum until you’re leaking all over my cock?”

You gasp—he laughs.

“You like this. You like being stretched and used and stuffed full, don’t you?”

You nod fast, clinging to him as he starts to thrust—real thrusts now, brutal and deep. Every time his hips slam into yours, you feel the slap of his skin, the obscene slick of his cock grinding inside you.

And every time you get close?

He stops.

He fucking stops.

“You’re gonna cum when I say,” he growls, dragging his teeth along your throat. “You wanna be my perfect boy? Then act like it.”

He grips your thighs, pushing them up, folding you until you’re fully exposed under him. His cock hits that spot that makes you sob, and he doesn’t let up—not this time.

You’re panting, leaking, your own cock untouched and twitching.

He leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Beg for it.”

“I—I wanna cum,” you cry. “Please, baby, please, I’ve been good—!”

“Say what you’re begging for,” he snarls. “Say it.”

“Please fill me up, make me yours—!”

That breaks him.

He thrusts hard, fast, his breath hitching as he pants, “Yeah? You want it? Wanna be stuffed full with all my cum, huh? Wanna walk around dripping, knowing I used you?”

You’re barely able to respond—just moaning, shaking, stars in your eyes—and then he slams in one last time.

His whole body shudders.

“F—fuck—fuck, take it, take it all—” he snarls as he spills everything into you. It’s hot, thick, endless. You feel it flood inside, pooling deep, leaking out before he’s even done.

But he doesn’t pull out.

No.

He stays in.

Presses his hips flush to yours, his cock still twitching inside your soaked hole.

“Shhh… stay like this,” he whispers, kissing your sweaty cheek. “I’m not done yet. I want you cockwarming me while it sinks in.”

You whimper. He hums.

“Such a good boy,” he breathes, voice soft again. “Took me so well. Let me fuck you dumb and fill you up just like you deserve.”

You’re dazed, fucked-out, stuffed to the brim, barely able to hold a thought. Your own orgasm hit somewhere in the middle—maybe more than once—but it’s all a blur now.

Phainon strokes your cheek.

“Don’t worry,” he says, smug. “I’ll clean you up after. After I make sure you’re nice and full.”

And he smiles.

Because you’re his.

And he’s not letting a drop go to waste.

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[lexalith]

FRIENDS || Choi Su-Bong (Thanos)

summary: after late-night sexting with your best friend, everything changes. the bond you thought was purely platonic starts to feel deeper. were these feelings always there, hidden beneath the surface? or did something just… click? is this the start of something real, or the beginning of a mistake that could ruin everything?

warnings: aged up female reader (they’re both in their late twenties) (MDNI), smut (masturbation, fingering, public sex, p in v, oral sex (f and m), sexting, edging, praising, unprotected sex (don’t be silly)) semi and minsu are victims of the reader’s and subong’s freakiness, angst (name calling, miscommunication, pushing, throwing things, lying, deception, fear of commitment, reader refuses to help him at some point, slapping, slutshame remarks), overuse of the words ‘fuck’ and ‘fucking’ (lmaoo), subong should be a warning himself, fwb dynamic, reader uses someone to forget subong, drug use and addiction.

a/n: i’ve never ever written anything here on tumblr before, so i don’t really know what i’m doing, help. also, english isn’t my first language, so mistakes should be present!! lowercase is intentional. this is an au with no games. text messages are in different colors (orange for the reader, purple for subong). the reader’s dialogue is in bold. mind you, this is LOOOONG (it’s a whole fic)

songs that inspired me to write this: friends — chase atlantic || back to friends — sombr || heartbeat — childish gambino || casual — chappell roan

this fic was also inspired by @jedisupernova ‘s writing, check out her page and fics!!! (they’re soooo good)

you’re still thinking about what that guy said. it wasn’t even a big deal, not really. just some random jerk at the club who’d had a few too many drinks and decided to share his unfiltered thoughts about your body. “you’re not really my type,” he’d said, like you’d asked. then he’d laughed and added, “not many guys would go for that.”

it shouldn’t bother you. you know it shouldn’t. but now, a few nights later, it’s stuck in your head, looping like a song you can’t turn off. so, lying in bed, scrolling aimlessly, you do what you always do when something’s bugging you—you text him. your best friend.

subong. are you awake?

yes ma’am. why?

i got a random question. but like, it’s not that deep

???

do you think i’m attractive?

you fire it off without overthinking, like it’s no big deal. it’s not weird to ask your best friend something like this. right?

it takes him a few minutes to reply.

what kind of question is that?

just answer

i’m too high for this shit, bro

you’re not high🙄 liar

i wish i were

omfg can you just say yes or no? please? but be honest, i promise i won’t get mad

yeah, i think u are

really?

sure thinggg, u’re hot mama

dude quit playing, i’m being serious over here

i’m not fucking playing

okay you think i’m attractive but like… what kind of attractive? cute attractive? like awwww. or i’d-fuck-you-raw attractive?

what are we even talking about

why can’t you just answer?😭

what is this for?

for my knowledge

tf is that supposed to mean?

you stare at the screen, mentally deciding whether you should tell him about what happened or not. you hadn’t told him before, not wanting to give it more attention. but this time, you decide to.

ugh, remember i went clubbing the other day? well this dude was being an asshole to me and he said some stuff and i can’t stop thinking about it so just be fucking honest and answer my question

some stuff? what stuff?

he said, and i quote ‘not many guys would go for that’. ‘that’ is me, btw💀

who tf is this dude?

bruh idk, some random guy, it doesn’t matter

it does?

are you gonna answer my question or no?

yeah. i think u r both kinds.

good, good, you think to yourself. his reply makes you relax a little, the knot in your stomach loosening. he thinks you’re attractive. of course he does—he’s your best friend, and best friends are supposed to hype you up.

for a moment, you stare at your phone, chewing on your bottom lip. you know you should leave it there, let it go. but something keeps tugging at you.

so, hypothetically, would you… yk, with me?

the second you hit send, panic sets in. your pulse skyrockets, and you almost want to throw your phone across the room. why did you do that? why couldn’t you just shut up? but you don’t have time to spiral, because the dots appear almost immediately.

are u serious?

and you freeze. your fingers hover over the screen, but you can’t bring yourself to type anything back. what kind of answer is that?

alr, imma be honest. yeah i would

your heart stops. you blink at the message, reading it again and again, like the words might change if you look long enough. you weren’t prepared for this.

subong’s typing…

would u? with me?

you want to lie, to brush it off, but your fingers move before your brain can stop them.

maybe

the dots pop up again. then disappear. then pop up again.

maybe?? that means yes. cmon i’m hot as hell, baby, u know it. u’ve probably touched yourself thinking about me at least once

wtf bro you’re giving me the biggest ick rn 💀

but have u?

and you? i bet you jerk off to my insta photos, perv. don’t even start lmaoo

can’t help it when u look that good💯

you stare at his message, your mind scrambling to process it. you feel your breath catch in your throat. the shock should be overwhelming, but instead, you feel a strange warmth spread through you.

you didn’t expect this. the idea that he’s been thinking about you like that… it sends a shiver down your spine. you should probably tell him to stop, tell him it’s too much, but instead, you feel yourself leaning in, pulled toward this conversation in a way you didn’t think you would be.

i may or may not have done the same with your insta pics

i knew itttt señorita 🙏🏼

shut up

how many times?

why do you wanna know?🤨

i answered ur stupid ass questions, now u answer mine

maybe like idk, two?

no fucking way, just two????????

you think it’s not enough or what???? how many times have you done it?

more than u wanna know

how bad are we talking?

so bad i’ve lost count. u really want me to get into details?

maybe i do

bro, let’s just say that everytime u post i’m over here fighting a battle

you do realize i’m your bestfriend right?

yeah, so?

so aren’t there any girls to jerk off to instead of me???

yeah but they don’t make me as hard

you stare at the screen, your heart pounding, your legs squeezing together instinctively. what the hell is happening right now? and then another message comes through.

even saying this shit is getting me worked up

what???😭 you’re hard??

yeah bro, what's a guy supposed to do when his best friend asks if he would fuck her?

it was hypothetical

hypothetically speaking, if a guy was attracted to his best friend, he'd probably be rock fucking hard right now. so yeah, i'm fucking hard, girl

your stomach flips at the bluntness of his words. you can feel the blood rushing to your face as you stare at the message.

too much info, subong

nahhh, u asked. u wanted details, so here they are

okay… should i leave you to it?

fuck no

damn alr, suffer then🙄

could u help me out?

help you out?????????????

with a pic of u or smth

boy whatttttttttt

what?

i’m not sending you fucking nudes wtf 💀💀

no one asked for that, stupid. just a pic of u

just a pic of you. the request feels so simple. he’s your bestfriend—it’s not that big of a deal, right? especially after everything you’ve both just confessed to each other.

your eyes flick toward the mirror in your room. you’re in your pajamas. no bra. you know how it looks. it’s the kind of thing you wouldn’t think twice about wearing around him in person, but now, with this conversation, it feels different. your legs carry you to the mirror almost on autopilot. you pick up your phone and angle it toward your reflection. you shouldn’t even be entertaining this. but instead, you snap the picture. you stare at it for a moment, biting your lip. it’s not explicit—it’s just you. but still… you know exactly how he’ll see it.

your thumb hovers over the send button, hesitation gripping you. a hundred reasons not to do this race through your head, but one single thought drowns them all out: you want to know how he’ll react. before you can second-guess yourself, you hit send. the moment it delivers, your stomach drops, a mix of adrenaline and regret washing over you. you sit down on the edge of your bed, staring at the screen, waiting for his response, your heart pounding louder with every passing second.

hoooooooooly shitttttttttt

it’s just a pic

yeah, a pic of u looking like that

im just in my pajamas

and i’m hornier now, if that’s even possible

subong you can’t just say stuff like that

why not? we always tell each other everything

i should’ve thrown on a hoodie

i’d still be thinking of what’s underneath

well, glad i could help your horny ass🫡 enjoy or whatever

subong’s typing…

subong’s online

subong’s typing…

subong’s online

you watch the dots—flickering like they're mocking you. you can't help but wonder what he's typing—or if he's second-guessing whatever bold thing he's about to say. but then, they disappear. nothing. you frown, staring at the screen, waiting a few more seconds. still nothing. you realize exactly what he's probably doing. you bite your lip, heat creeping up your neck as the image forms in your mind: him, sitting there, hand wrapped around his dick, staring at the picture you sent.

you feel like you need to do something—anything—to distract yourself. you toss your phone onto the bed and reach for the remote, flipping on a random tv show. you let the noise fill the silence, but your mind keeps drifting back to him. it's a few minutes later when your phone dings. the sound cuts through the room like a knife, and you hesitate for a moment, staring at the screen, before finally reaching for it.

it's him. he sent a picture.

these are my pajamas. now we’re even, baby

him, standing in front of the mirror, shirtless and wearing only a pair of tight black briefs. the way he's posing is so over the top... he's trying way too hard. his expression is almost comical, like he's not really sure if he's pulling it off but is hoping you'll think he is. you can't help it—you stifle a laugh. but then your eyes drop, and that laughter dies in your throat. the bulge is so obvious, pushing against the fabric in a way that's impossible to ignore. it's not just visible, it's big. big enough that your pulse spikes, and you forget to breathe for a second. that laughter you were holding back? gone. you glance back at his goofy grin in the mirror, but it's no longer funny. shit. you’re wet.

you don't even know how it happens. one moment, you're staring at his picture, then a teasing comment here, a bold reply there—and before you know it, you're lying on your bed, your phone clutched in one hand and your other slipping between your thighs, pressed against the growing ache he's stoked with every message. you've never gone this far with him before—always ignoring his obvious flirting. but you can’t stop now. and he isn’t shy about it either, telling you with detail everything he would do to you.

u'd look soooo fucking good begging under me, baby

and what if i don’t?

then i'd make u

mhmmm, how?

fuck, i’d bury my face between those thighs and eat u out until u can’t take it anymore

a soft gasp escapes your lips as you read, your body reacting to the vivid images his words paint in your mind. you know you shouldn't be doing this—not with him—but the way he's describing everything makes you forget about all the reasons why. you’re far past the point of feeling shy too. you bite your lip, barely believing yourself as you hit send.

i wish you could feel how wet i am just thinking about you fucking me from behind

god damn girl, i’d stretch that pussy so good my dick is the only thing u’d think about for weeks

and then, it's not just texting anymore—you're sending pictures, even though you swore you wouldn't. the first one is a close-up of your fingers, glistening with your juices. his reply comes almost instantly, not as a text but as a voice message. “shit, baby, you're f-fucking killing me... mhmm... look at that. you're so fucking wet f’me, I can almost taste it through the screen... fuck...” his voice is low and rough, broken by soft, shaky breaths. you can hear him stroking himself, moans slipping out between words. you're losing your damn mind over it, replaying the voice message again and again—fingers curling inside of you as you push them in and out, wishing it were his fingers instead of yours.

he sends a pic too. this time, he leaves nothing to the imagination. it’s a selfie, his face barely visible at the corner. the center of attention is his hard dick, hand wrapped around it, tip leaking precum. and the only thing that comes to your mind right there and then is just how badly you want to take him in your mouth.

one picture leads to another, the messages growing dirtier with every exchange. his words are filthy, his photos even filthier, and the way he talks about your body—what he'd do to it, what he's imagining—fucking hell. your breathing quickens, your body burning with need, and before you know it, that familiar tension starts to coil low in your stomach.

shit, subong… i’m close

u’re gonna cum for me? cmon pretty girl, let me hear you

you hit record just as your orgasm crashes over you, moaning his name loudly as you cum on your fingers. after a few minutes, he sends a voice message back “you sound so fucking good… shit, look what you’ve done t-to me… mmm… fuck, fuck, fuck… i’m gonna cum thinking about fucking you, baby. i’m gonna cum thinking about you making those… s-sounds while i fucking pound into you.”

the next few days are a blur. he hasn’t texted, and you haven’t either. but no matter what you do, you can’t stop thinking about what happened. no matter how hard you try to shake it off, it’s there. his voice, the way he sounded saying your name, the damn nudes, the way your heart raced as you typed those things to him.

you don’t know how to feel about it. on one hand, you can’t deny how much you wanted it in the moment. but now? now you’re not sure. did you cross a line? did he? part of you regrets it, wishes you could just rewind and stop yourself before things spiraled. but another part—one you’re trying to ignore—remembers how good it felt, how right it seemed in the moment.

and then there’s the friendship. years of it. he’s been your best friend for a few years now. he knows things about you no one else does and he’s seen you at your absolute worst. like that night you showed up at his door after a horrible breakup. mascara streaked down your cheeks, and he didn’t say a word—just handed you a blanket, put on your favorite movie, and sat there with you until you fell asleep on his shoulder.

but it wasn’t always serious. like the time he tried rapping one of his freestyles for you, all cocky, and you laughed so hard you couldn’t breathe. or like the time you tripped over absolutely nothing at the mall, and he laughed so hard he cried, then spent weeks reenacting it whenever you were around. or when he clogged your toilet and tried to fix it himself instead of just telling you. or when he picked a fight with some guy at a club because the guy bumped into you and didn’t apologize. he got all puffed up and said, “you got a problem, man?” like he was some kind of action movie hero. but the guy was huge, like, rugby player huge, and before you could drag subong away, he swung and missed, and the dude took him down in one hit. he spent the rest of the night with a bloody nose and ice pressed to his face, grumbling, “he got lucky.” you still remind him of how he ‘lost a fight in one punch,’ and it always makes him groan.

you’ve got a thousand stupid inside jokes that no one else would understand, like how you always text each other ‘don’t die’ instead of ‘goodnight’ because of some dumb horror movie you watched together. or the fact that he nicknamed you ‘señorita’ when you said you wanted to visit spain one day.

he’s a walking disaster, an endless source of secondhand embarrassment, and somehow, that’s what makes subong… subong. being around him has always felt easy, like slipping into your favorite hoodie—comfortable, familiar, safe.

but friends don’t do… that. what if it’s never the same again? you’ve always been comfortable with him, never overthinking what you said or did around him. now, you can’t imagine looking him in the eye without thinking about what you two did together. you keep telling yourself that things will go back to normal, but deep down, you’re scared they won’t. because you’re not sure you can go back—not after knowing what it felt like to be wanted by him in that way. not after letting yourself want him back.

one day, out of the blue, he texts you like nothing happened. just casually, like you didn't have your hand between your thighs while listening to him moan your name a few nights ago.

yoooo, wanna hop on call and play videogames? i’m bored

at first, you stare at the text, because... what does this mean? is this his way of brushing it under the rug? of pretending nothing ever happened? still, you say yes. because what else can you do? you hop into the call, and there he is—joking, laughing, completely normal. like the two of you didn't cross every possible line. he's so good at acting like nothing's changed, it almost convinces you. you match his energy, responding with the same casual ease. maybe this is fine. maybe you're fine.

then the group chat lights up a few days later: a cinema meet-up. everyone's throwing out ideas for what movie to watch, talking about snacks, debating over showtimes. he's there, throwing in jokes about popcorn sizes and his infamous sweet tooth, and you're sitting there trying to decide if you can handle seeing him face to face. you hesitate, debating if you should just make up an excuse not to go. but then he replies to the chat, tagging you specifically.

u better be there señorita

i will🙃

the day arrives faster than you’d like, and before you know it, you’re standing outside the cinema, stomach flipping as you spot namgyu, minsu, gyeongsu, and semi waving at you. you force a smile and walk over, doing your best to focus on their chatter and ignore the nerves crawling up your spine. but then you see him—subong, leaning against the wall, vape in hand. and when his eyes land on you, he smirks. he knows damn well. he knows exactly what you’re thinking, and he’s not going to make this easy for you. “finally,” he says when you’re close enough. “i was starting to doubt you’d come.” “why wouldn’t i?” you reply. he shrugs, taking a puff from his vape “thought you might’ve had better things to do.” the way he says it feels loaded, but he doesn’t give you time to respond, turning his attention to namgyu instead.

when it’s time to head into the cinema, you try to position yourself far from him, making a beeline for a seat between minsu and semi. you settle in, thinking you’re safe, but of course, subong has other plans. “yo, minsu, my boy,” he says as he walks down the aisle, stopping directly in front of you. “mind scooting over? i’ll sit here.” “uh, sure,” minsu says, shifting down without hesitation. you open your mouth to object, but before you can say anything, subong is sliding into the seat next to you, drink in one hand and a bag of popcorn in the other. “hope you don’t mind,” he murmurs, leaning a little closer than necessary. you grit your teeth, keeping your gaze locked on the screen as the previews start. “not at all,” you mutter under your breath.

you think that’s it. but, of course, it doesn’t end there. he shifts in his seat, his arm brushing against yours every now and then, like he’s waiting for you to react. you swear you catch him smirking out of the corner of your eye multiple times. you try to focus on the movie, but it’s impossible when his presence is so loud. every little movement, every tiny glance, has your nerves on edge. and he knows it.

then, you feel it. his hand—light at first— rests on your bare thigh, the heat of his palm sending a jolt through you. you freeze, your breath catching in your throat. what the hell is he doing? his fingers trace a soft line along your skin, caressing just above your knee. you stay still, unsure of what to do, but your body betrays you, not pulling away.

his touch grows bolder, creeping higher up your leg, slipping under your skirt. you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. he's still watching the movie, acting like nothing is happening, like his hand isn't inches away from your clothed pussy. “what are you doing?” you finally ask, your voice barely above a whisper. he turns his head toward you, looking innocent, like he's just minding his own business. “nothing.” “subong—” “i'll stop if you want me to.” you don't answer, torn between wanting to push him away and not wanting him to stop at all. “do you want me to stop? be honest,” he says, still waiting for your response. “no,” you reply, looking away with embarrassment. he chuckles softly—hand rubbing the inside of your thigh.

you drape the thin jacket you brought over your legs, a flimsy attempt to shield his hand from semi’s view. every nerve in your body screams that you shouldn’t be letting this happen, but you don’t stop him. he spreads your legs with his hand for better access, and soon you feel two of his fingers pressing against your clit over the fabric of your panties. your breath hitches, and you try not to move—not even a sound escapes you—but your lips part at the feeling of his touch. he moves them slow—too slow—in a way that has you shifting against him, your hips bucking against his hand, desperate for more. and he gives it to you. his hand slips beneath your soaked underwear, and a low chuckle leaves him when he feels just how wet you are.

subong knows what he is doing. he rubs your clit in circles, gently but with enough pressure to have you biting your bottom lip. and god, his fingers feel so much better than you ever imagined. when he quickens the pace, a soft moan escapes your lips before you can stop it, and you quickly slap a hand over your mouth, pretending to be focused on the screen. but the rapid rise and fall of your chest betrays your so-called calm. before you can collect yourself, semi leans in. “are you okay?” “mhm,” you nod quickly, forcing a smile. “yeah, don't worry, i—” your words falter when his fingers move faster. you bite your lip, trying to hold it together, but he's clearly enjoying watching you struggle. “i-i'm fine,” you manage to stutter. semi raises an eyebrow. “you sure?” “yeah,” you nod. “alright,” semi says before shrugging and turning her attention back to the screen.

you let out a shaky breath, relief flooding through you. your head snaps toward subong, eyes narrowing in a glare that’s meant to convey exactly how ridiculous he’s being right now. you dig your nails into his wrist, “are you crazy?” but he only pauses for a second, leaning in close enough to whisper, “relax, girl. no one noticed.” the audacity of him sends heat rushing to your face. but he doesn’t back down, his fingers resuming their slow, torturous movements. and just as you’re about to reach your orgasm… he stops. your body jerks in frustration, and you whip your head toward him, confused. his smirk only deepens as he pulls his hand from under your skirt, bringing his fingers to his lips and licking them clean. “what the fuck?” you whisper, a soft groan escaping at the loss of his touch. “what?” he whispers back, feigning innocence. “you know what.” “i don't. you'll have to spell it out for me.” “subong—” “tell me what you want.” the frustration wells up in your chest. to him, this is probably hilarious—you being so desperate. but for you? it's humiliating. pathetic. begging your best friend for something like this. still, the need outweighs your pride. you lean in, your lips almost brushing his ear, “i wanna... i wanna cum. please, make me cum.” “yeah? be fucking quiet, then.”

his fingers slip back under your skirt. your breath catches, and you press your lips together, your body already trembling from how close you were before—gripping the armrest, barely able to keep still. every nerve in your body feels like it's on fire, and when his fingers circle just right, you're done. the release hits hard, and you muffle your moans by biting down on your lip so hard it stings.

the days after are... strange. again. no texting, no acknowledgment, no teasing, nothing. it's like it never happened. and when he does text again, it's so casual it throws you off. he sends a random picture, a meme he has found on instagram.

this shit is so funny bro loooololol

i fear your humor is broken😐

naahhh u just don’t get ittt babyy

you reply like everything's fine because, well, isn't it? you don’t even know at this point.

another day, he messages the group chat:

pentagon this weekend?🔥

the replies come fast. namgyu’s working that night. semi has plans with her girlfriend. gyeongsu says he’s too exhausted for it. minsu doesn’t even reply. everyone has an excuse, and eventually, the chat goes dead. then, a private message from subong popps up.

wbu? still down to go?

you and subong had gone clubbing together hundreds of times. hell, most nights it was just the two of you, dancing until your legs gave out, taking blurry selfies, and laughing over cheap drinks. it was normal. so, you type:

yeah, sureee

bet. see u saturday, señorita

when the night comes, your phone buzzes as you’re double-checking your look in the mirror.

outside

outsideeee

outsideeeeeeeee

hellooooooooooooooooooo

one minute, let me grab my jacket

i’m freezing man

one minute my ass

patience is a virtue ❤️

cmooooooooon

u knitting the jacket or what

girl i just hit retirement age waiting for u

you’re so dramatic

and u r so slow, balance baby

you grab your jacket and head out, the bass from his car already thudding through the air when you step outside. you see him leaning against the passenger door, dressed in his usual baggy style—a loose graphic tee, cargo pants, and sneakers that probably cost more than your entire outfit (the only damn thing he saves up for…)—vape dangling lazily from his fingers. when he sees you, his eyes trail over you for a second too long. “you’re overdressed,” he teases with a smile. “you’re underdressed,” you shoot back.

the drive to club pentagon is easy, filled with a mix of rap tracks and subong’s singing. when you finally pull up, the line’s already stretching down the block, but subong doesn’t even blink. “namgyu’s working, right?” he asks, sliding out of the car. you nod. “yeah, he’ll let us in.” inside, the music is already pulsing, bass heavy enough to shake the floors. subong grabs your wrist. “drinks first?” “obviously,” you answer. you follow subong to the bar, the pounding music buzzing in your ears. “what are we starting with?” he asks, leaning against the bar. “shots,” you say, already reaching into your bag. he raises an eyebrow. “you’re paying?” “you’re broke,” you remind him, rolling your eyes before ordering four shots of tequila. when the glasses arrive, he grabs two and hands you one. “guess i’ll owe you,” he says, clinking his glass against yours. “you already do,” you reply, downing the first shot without hesitation. the familiar burn of tequila trails down your throat, and you chase it with a quick breath.

you can feel his eyes on you as you throw back the second shot. you don’t meet his gaze, but you can feel it—the weight of it, the way it makes your stomach flutter. shaking it off, you slam your glass on the counter and signal for one more round. “last one,” you say, mostly to yourself, pulling out more cash. he doesn’t argue, just picks up his shot, watching you as you pick up yours. you both toss back the final shot, and the alcohol is just enough to loosen the knot in your chest. but the way his gaze lingers as he sets his glass down makes it tighten again. “dancing?” you ask. he nods. you push through the crowd till you find a spot on the dance floor. the techno track thuds through your chest as you sway to the rhythm. subong moves with you, not particularly in sync with the beat, but in his own way that somehow works. every now and then, his eyes catch yours, and you have to force yourself to look away.

the music builds, and you let yourself get lost in it, the alcohol buzzing through your veins and the tension from earlier slowly dissolving into the haze of the moment. after a while, he stops moving and pulls his phone from his pocket. you glance at him, curious, as he squints at the screen. whatever he sees makes him smile faintly before he shoves the phone back into his pocket. “i need to hit the bathroom!” he says, leaning close so you can hear. you blink at him, confused. “right now?” he nods, gesturing for you to follow. you don’t argue—it’s not exactly safe to hang around the dance floor by yourself. reluctantly, you let him lead you off the floor.

he disappears into the men’s room, leaving you standing against the wall, arms crossed. you tap your foot, watching drunk strangers stumble past. a few minutes later, the door swings open, and subong walks out, a small smirk playing on his lips. “what took you so long?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him. instead of answering, he holds up a small plastic bag between his fingers. your stomach flips when you see the little colorful pills inside. “what the hell is that?” you ask, but you already know. he grins, tilting his head. “new stuff.” your brows furrow. “what?” “my plug got these,” he says, holding up the bag slightly. “said they hit different. figured i’d try.” he slides one pill between his fingers, studying it like it’s no big deal. then he brings it to his mouth, about to toss it back. “wait,” you say, grabbing his wrist. he scoffs. “what? you want it instead?” you glare at him. “no, subong. what are you even doing? you don’t need that!” he rolls his eyes, freeing his wrist from your grip. “come on, it’s nothing. we’ve had worse.” “worse?” you scoff. “you’re really gonna compare getting blackout drunk and smoking pot to this?” “you’re fucking overthinking it. it’s just one pill. just tonight. trust me.” he says.

you glance at the bag again, at the little pills that seem so harmless yet scream bad idea. “subong…” you start, but your voice trails off. “look,” he cuts in, his voice softer now. “we’re having a good fucking time, yeah? it’ll be just this once, okay? i promise.” “okay,” you say suddenly, lifting your chin. “but if you do one, i’ll do one.” his smirk falters for half a second. “no.” you frown. “what do you mean, no?” “i mean no. you’re not taking one.” “but you can?” you challenge, crossing your arms.“yeah.” you scoff. “that’s bullshit.” he exhales sharply, shaking his head. “this isn’t your thing, señorita.” “since when it’s yours?” you snap. “if you’re gonna do it, then so am i.”

he looks at you, really looks at you. then, with an exasperated groan, he reaches into the bag. “fucking stubborn,” he mutters, pulling out another pill. “just this once.” he holds it delicately between his fingers before stepping closer. “open up,” he says, his voice dropping a notch. you hesitate for a second but eventually part your lips, sticking out your tongue. he places the pill gently on it. “there you go,” he says, stepping back and popping his own pill. you swallow it quickly, trying not to think about what you’ve just decided to do.

you move back onto the dance floor, the pill's effects creeping in like a warm wave washing over you. the flashing lights seem brighter now and everything blurs together—colors, sounds, the heat of the crowd—but it feels good. better than it should. your limbs feel lighter, like you're floating, and the energy buzzing inside you pushes you to move. subong is right there beside you, dancing with his hand raised, and you can't stop staring at him. his messy hair sticks to his forehead, sweat glistening on his tanned skin.

before you know it, your arms are around his neck, pulling him in like it’s the only thing keeping you steady. his eyes burn into yours for half a second, like he’s daring you to close the distance. then his hands are on your waist, rough fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt, warm against your skin, and he drags you closer until you’re pressed against him. the music is pounding, but it feels distant—like the only rhythm you can hear now is the way your bodies move together, hips rolling in time, every brush of his skin against yours making you burn.

his breath fans across your lips, hot and tasting of tequila and something bitter—maybe the pill he took earlier—and it makes your head spin. then your mouth crashes into his. there’s nothing soft about it. it’s messy and sloppy, urgent—like you’re both too far gone to think about anything but this. his lips part against yours immediately, and your tongues meet in a dizzying clash of heat and need. his hands slide up your back, fingers threading into your hair, tugging just hard enough to make you gasp into his mouth.

you tilt your head, chasing the kiss even deeper. you feel the sharp graze of his teeth against your bottom lip, a bite that makes you whimper before he soothes it with his tongue. the sound you make pushes him further—he groans into your mouth, his other hand gripping your jaw, tilting your face exactly how he wants it.

you’re not sure where the desperation is coming from, but it feels like if he stops touching you, you’ll shatter. your fingers clutch at his shirt, twisting the fabric as you grind just a little closer, a little harder. he’s breathing just as heavy as you are, lips red and swollen from kissing you like he never wants to stop.

you’ve kissed people before but nothing’s ever felt like this. nothing’s ever felt this fucking good. the two of you stumble out of the club. your legs feel like jelly as you hold onto subong, and his arm wraps around your waist to steady you. his car is parked a few streets over, tucked away in a dark, hidden corner under some trees. “thank god for this spot,” he mutters as he unlocks the doors.

you barely make it into the backseat before he’s on you again—his lips crashing into yours like he’s been waiting for this forever. his hands are all over you, rough and desperate, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. but you’re not going anywhere. his fingers dig into your thighs as he pulls you into his lap, and the second you straddle him, you feel it—hard and thick, pressing right against the heat between your legs. a soft gasp slips out of you, but he swallows it with another kiss, his tongue sliding against yours. fuck, he’s good.

your hands tangle in his hair, pulling as your hips start to move, grinding down on him. his grip tightens immediately, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he guides your movements, rocking you against him harder. the friction creates a delicious, aching pressure that makes you whimper against his lips. “fuck,” he breathes, breaking the kiss just long enough to let his head fall back against the seat. his fingers squeeze your ass, dragging you down against him rougher. “keep doing that.” so you do. you roll your hips, slow at first, letting yourself feel everything. you’re already soaked, already throbbing for more, and from the way his hands are gripping you, the way his breathing is getting heavier, you know he feels it too. “i need to eat you out,” he says, trailing kisses down your neck. “want you to cum on my tongue.” you do exactly what he wants—legs spread wide, thighs trembling as his head dips between them. his breath is hot against your soaked pussy, teasing, before his tongue finally makes contact—slow at first, a long, deliberate lick from your entrance to your clit that makes your whole body jolt.

you gasp at the feeling, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging hard, but it only makes him groan against you, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure straight through you. he doesn’t hold back. he devours you, eating you out like a man starved, his tongue flicking against your clit before he sucks it into his mouth. and when two of his fingers slip inside you, curling deep, pressing against that perfect spot, you swear you see stars. “you taste so fucking good,” he groans against you, his lips slick with your arousal before he flattens his tongue and laps up every drop. the way he’s working you—his mouth, his fingers, the filthy sounds coming from between your legs—it’s too much, too good, and your whole body is trembling, hips rolling against his face, chasing more. “shit—subong!” your voice breaks as the pleasure crashes over you all at once. your thighs clamp around his head, your body arching off the seat as you cum hard against his mouth. but he doesn’t stop—his tongue keeps moving, drinking you in, dragging out your release until you’re shaking.

when he comes back up to kiss you—chin shining with the evidence of your release— your hand instinctively moves to rub him through his pants, the hard outline of his dick impossible to miss. he hisses at the contact, his hips bucking eagerly against your touch. “you got a condom?” you ask. he pauses. “yeah, hold on.” reluctantly, he pulls away and starts patting his pockets. his brows furrow in concentration as he checks one side, then the other. finally, with a relieved grin, he pulls a condom out and holds it up. “got it,” he says before kissing the wrapper, making you chuckle.

he looks so fucking hot as he rolls the condom onto his cock, his chest rising and falling with anticipation. but nothing gets him off more than watching you climb back onto his lap, your soaked folds teasing the head of his dick as you line yourself up. his breath stutters, his hands gripping your thighs, barely holding himself back. “fuck, you’re so wet,” he says, voice tight with restraint. then, slowly you sink down onto him. inch by inch, he stretches you open, filling you up until there’s no space left between your bodies. “shit,” he hisses, watching as your slick coats him, making every movement easy, effortless—like your body was made to take him. and when you start moving, lifting your hips before sliding back down, a broken moan escapes his lips. “fuck, baby,” he breathes, hands roaming up your back, gripping your ass, anything to ground himself as you ride him. “you feel so f-fucking good—look at you, taking me so… mmm… so fucking well.” his voice is needy, and when you slam down harder, his hips jerk up to meet yours, pushing even deeper. “oh my—fuck, subong!” you cry out, your walls clenching around him so tight it makes his whole body tense beneath you.

he almost fucking loses it the second he feels you clench around him, his face twisting in pleasure, jaw going slack. his hands grip your hips, guiding you—faster, rougher—eyes locked on where your bodies meet, watching his cock disappear inside you over and over again. he forces himself to meet your gaze, even though his eyes keep threatening to roll back. “fuck, if i’d known how fucking good this pussy is… i would’ve f-fucked you sooner.” he moans as you move faster, bouncing on his cock—every thrust making obscene, slick sounds that only turn him on more. his eyes drop to your tits, bouncing perfectly in time with your movements, and fuck, he can’t decide what he wants more—to keep watching you ride him like this or to flip you over and ruin you.

but then you tighten around him, your rhythm stuttering as you throw your head back, moaning so loud he swears the whole damn neighborhood can hear you. “fuck— i’m gonna—! i-i’m gonna cum!” you cry out, your whole body trembling, thighs shaking as you cum around his cock. and that’s it. that’s all it takes to break him. “shit—ngh!” his body jerks beneath you, his abs tensing as he spills into the condom, his head falling back, mouth open.

his hands are still gripping you, holding you down against him as he rides out every last pulse of his release, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths. and fuck—you’re still wrapped around him, warm and wet and perfect. you end up laughing for a solid twenty minutes after that, still too high to fully process what the fuck just happened between you two. but even in your haze, every single detail stays with you the next day.

fucking your best friend while high as fuck one night might’ve been an accident. but then it happens again. and again. and again. and you can’t call it an accident anymore.

it happens everywhere.

in his car, where the windows are always fogged up, your moans echoing in the tight space. in your apartment, where he barely gets the door shut before he’s got you pinned against it, hands rough and greedy, yanking your clothes off like he’s been waiting all fucking day for this. sometimes he doesn’t even make it past the kitchen—he just lifts you onto the counter, knocking over whatever’s in his way, too impatient to care as his mouth moves down your neck. in his bed, where the sheets are always a mess, tangled from how hard he fucks you into the mattress, his hands gripping your wrists, pinning them above your head. even in a club bathroom, right after he gives a show, still high off the energy, sweat dripping down his temple. you’re barely inside before he’s got you bent over the sink, hiking your dress up, shoving your panties to the side, fucking into you so deep you have to bite your hand to keep from screaming his name.

wherever. the second you’re alone, it’s happening. it becomes a thing. a need.

you always figured subong would fuck good. he never shut up about the girls he’s been with, the shit he’s done, bragging like he was the best lay any of them ever had. and every time he talked about it, you’d feel heat pool between your thighs, wondering if he was really that good or just full of shit.

now you knew. and fuck, he wasn’t lying.

he’s rough and passionate—the kind of lover who takes without hesitation but gives just as much, maybe even more. he loves watching you squirm, loves the way your body responds to him like it was made for this. like it needs this. his fingers trail down your skin, barely touching, making you shiver before he finally gives you what you want. and fuck, he lives for it—the way you gasp when he finally presses his mouth between your legs, the way your back arches when he fills you up, stretching you wide, making you take every inch.

some days, he drags it out, torturing you with slow touches, lazy kisses, making you beg before he finally gives in. he’ll tease you until you’re trembling, hands gripping at him desperately, “please, subong… need you so bad.” and then, maybe then, he’ll give you what you’re begging for. other days? he doesn’t bother waiting. before you can say a word, he’s got you pinned to the mattress, yanking your legs apart, pressing himself against you, making you feel just how hard he is. “been thinking about this all fucking day.” then he’s inside you, fucking you like he’s been starving for it.

it’s been months now—this thing between you and subong. but you don’t talk about it. not once. there’s no late-night confessions, no whispered ‘what are we?’ between tangled sheets. he doesn’t ask who else you’re seeing, and you sure as hell don’t ask him. but the uncertainty lingers. because he’s still your best friend. you still laugh at his dumb ass jokes, roll your eyes when he’s being his cocky self, and feel that weird, warm twist in your stomach when you catch him watching you from across the room.

and yet, there are a bunch of little things that scream something more. like that time you sat on his rumpled bed while he was writing a song, and you helped him hammer out stupid-ass verses—even when he swore they’d never work. you teased him for his cheesy lines and then watched his face light up like he’d just discovered a new fucking world. hell, he even calls you his muse sometimes, and you hate how damn proud that makes you feel.

or that stormy night. the rain was lashing against the windows, and you two were locked in his tiny studio apartment. one minute you were laughing, taking silly pictures of him with a digital camera while he smoked, and the next, he had your face pressed against the wooden table as he fucked you from behind—your ass cheeks burning from his vigorous spanking. after, he pulled you close, running his fingers through your hair as if trying to memorize every inch of you.

that one night he showed up at your door at 2 a.m., high off his ass, slurring your name with that cocky grin, his knuckles tapping too fast against the wood. “couldn’t sleep,” he mumbled, leaning against the doorframe. “fucking missed you.” you should’ve told him to fuck off, should’ve rolled your eyes and slammed the door in his face because he promised he wouldn’t do that shit again. instead, you let him in, let him collapse onto your bed with a heavy sigh, pulling you down with him. his arms caged you in, the scent of his cheap cologne filling your senses.

then there was the time you caught him staring at you while you were getting ready. you were fixing your hair in his mirror, wearing nothing but his oversized t-shirt, and when you turned around, he was just standing there—arms crossed. “what?” you asked, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. he just shook his head, smirking a little. “nothing,” he said. “you just—you look good in my clothes, mama.”

and when you called him crying after a shitty day at work, voice shaking so bad he could barely understand you. you didn’t even have to ask—he just showed up, no questions. drove way too fucking fast to get to you, and pulled you into his chest so tight it felt like he was trying to hold you together. “who do i need to punch?” he asked, half-joking, half-dead serious. and you laughed, even through your tears, because that was him—always trying to make you smile. he let you cry into his hoodie, let you hold onto him like a fucking lifeline, and then, when you finally calmed down, he kissed your forehead like it was second nature. “you’re okay, baby” he murmured. “i got you.” he always had you.

or the night he took you to some shitty underground concert, knowing damn well you didn’t even like the band. “it’s not about the music,” he told you, grinning like an idiot. “it’s about the experience.” you rolled your eyes, but you still let him pull you into the crowd, still let him wrap an arm around you when the pit got too wild, still let him hold your hand. afterward, sweaty and breathless, you sat on the curb outside, sharing a cigarette while he rambled about how sick the show was. “you should play up there one day,” you told him, nudging his shoulder. “your songs have gotten better.” “you think?” “yeah. you’re good, bong-bong.” the nickname made him laugh. a week later, he showed you something he wrote. something raw and messy and fucking beautiful. he let you hear a part of him no one else ever did.

you even helped him rebrand himself. it started with him pacing his room, muttering to himself, stopping every few seconds like he was about to say something, then changing his mind. eventually, you sighed, rolling onto your stomach while watching him from his bed. “are you having a breakdown or just being dramatic?” he ignored you, still pacing. and then, out of nowhere, he stopped. snapped his fingers. looked at you like he just discovered the secret to life itself. “i’m gonna dye my hair purple.” you stared at him for a long second, waiting for him to laugh or tell you he was joking. but he just stood there, completely serious, shoulders squared like he was about to go to war.

within twenty minutes, you were in his bathroom, gloves on, a box of purple dye sitting between you. you didn’t even ask how he got it so fast. knowing him, he’d probably been sitting on this idea for weeks, just waiting for the right moment to drag you into it. he sat on the closed toilet lid, legs spread, while you stood over him, parting his hair and working the dye through. up close, he looked smug as hell, like he knew he was onto something. the whole rap game was about standing out, and he was done waiting for people to notice him.

the name ‘thanos’ caught on faster than you expected. at first, it was a joke—you called him that to be annoying, and then he used it in a song, and suddenly, people were saying it back to him. dms started piling up. more people started listening. before you knew it, subong wasn’t just some guy making music in his bedroom—he was thanos. and, of course, he acted like he knew it was gonna work all along.

and fuck, the time he brought you home to meet his family. his mom fussed over you like you were the perfect daughter-in-law, laying on your favorite dish and insisting you have seconds. then, saying, “he talks about you a lot”, making subong choke on his food while his sister goaded him about how he treats you like his damn girlfriend. you felt so out-of-place and yet so damn loved by the way he proudly introduced you to everyone, as if you were the missing piece in his fucked-up puzzle. he even opened up to you about his dad—how he never gave a shit about him, never looked at him unless it was to point out everything he did wrong. maybe that was why he kept stealing glances at you like he was trying to make sense of it—of being wanted, of being next to someone who actually cared.

and later that night, when you were both lying on his couch, full and sleepy, he nudged your knee with his. “thanks for coming, señorita,” he mumbled, eyes half-lidded. “they liked you.” you turned your head to look at him, saying, “of course they did. i’m fucking amazing.” he smirked, but it faded quick, his gaze lingering on you a little too long. “yeah,” he murmured. “you are.”

nights that weren’t about sex at all. the ones where he just wanted you close, his hands resting on your back, his lips pressed to your shoulder, his voice low and sleepy in the dark. “you’re warm,” he’d mumble, pulling you closer. “don’t leave.” “i work tomorrow, baby,” you’d say. “i’ll drive you… stay with me,” he’d always replied.

and you did. every single time.

and there were the nights he fucked you like he meant it. not just like you were some girl he was hooking up with, but like you were the only one who had ever mattered. like he was trying to prove something with every touch, every kiss, every time he pressed his sweaty forehead to yours and whispered your name like a prayer.

like he loved you. but he never said it. and neither did you.

so instead, you settled for the quiet moments—for the way he always pulled you into his lap at parties, his hands resting lazily on your thighs; for the way he let you pick the music when you drove anywhere, even though he always bitched about your taste; for the way he let you steal his fries, let you doodle on his lyrics notebook, let you wear his hoodies even when you didn’t ask; for the way he texted you ‘good morning, baby❤️,’ and it made you smile for no damn reason; for the way you woke up to find him still asleep beside you, hair a damn mess on the pillow, and traced lazy circles on his chest while he mumbled some half-remembered melody. for the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching.

you can’t help but hope that one day you’ll both just say the damn words and finally admit that all these little moments mean something. you hope that maybe, just maybe, one day you’ll stop wondering if you’re more than just friends with benefits.

are u busy?

no, why?

good, i’ll be there in 10

i’m on my period

who gives a shitttt, i sure as hell don’t, mama

subong.

yeah?🙏🏼

not in the mood❤️

oh

alr cool👍🏼💯

can i still come over tho? we could watch a movie or something

yeah okayyy, bring snacks (or else i won’t let you in)

i’m the only snack u need, girl

you don’t expect him to show up with anything, but when you open the door, subong’s standing there, hands full—one holding a plastic bag, the other gripping a bottle of soda. “what’s all this?” you ask, raising a brow. he steps inside without waiting for an invite, kicking off his shoes. “you said ‘bring snacks’, didn’t you?” he says, dropping the bag onto your coffee table. “figured you’d want something sweet.” you peek inside—chocolate bars, a pack of strawberry pocky, even a container of sliced fruit. your chest tightens at the thought of him actually remembering the little things you like.“what, no painkillers?” you tease, flopping onto the couch. he scoffs, collapsing next to you, way too comfortable in your space. “what do i look like, a pharmacy?”

you give him a knowing look, and his lips twitch, like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. grabbing the remote, you ask, “so, what are we watching?” “something i won’t fall asleep to,” he says, stretching an arm across the back of the couch. “which means no boring indie shit.” you nudge his thigh with your foot. “first of all, my movie taste is elite. second, if you fall asleep, i’m taking pictures.” he grins, lazy and cocky. “yeah? what will you use them for?” heat rushes to your face, and you smack his arm without thinking. “shut up.”

the movie plays, and for a while, it’s normal. easy. you snack on the pocky while subong steals pieces of fruit from the container, acting like he’s doing you a favor by eating the ones you don’t like. he stretches out on the couch, legs spread, one arm draped lazily over the backrest. goddamn.

it's barely been a few minutes when you find yourself on your knees in front of the couch, his strong hand fisting in your hair as you hungrily suck his dick like your life depends on it. you couldn’t help it. he just looked too fucking good. you take him deep, your nose pressing against his abs, gagging slightly but refusing to back off. he lets out a groan as you take him, the head of his dick hitting the back of your throat. His hand tightens in your hair, guiding your head up and down. “fuck, just like that baby... show me how much you love this dick.” his hips thrust forward, making you gag slightly. “you're so f-fucking good for me... mmm such a pretty little mouth, choking on my cock.”

drool slips down your chin as you struggle to breathe but maintain eye contact, wanting him to see how much you love taking him in your mouth. the wet, obscene sounds of you slurping and gagging fill the room. he watches you intently, pupils blown wide with lust, his dick throbbing against your tongue. moaning around him, the vibrations make his thighs quake. "shit... you’re gonna make me fucking c-cum," he breathes out. “you gonna… you gonna let me cum in that s-sweet mouth of yours, hm?” “mhmm,” you purr around his length, looking up at him with hooded eyes. you double your efforts, sucking him hard and fast, your hand pumping what you can’t reach. he holds your head in place as he comes, making you to swallow every last drop. you take a moment to catch your breath, wiping your mouth before sitting back up.

the bathroom lights hum to life as you rinse your mouth and splash cool water on your face, trying to shake off the heat thrumming through you. you press your palms against the sink, inhaling deep in an attempt to look less flustered. the movie’s still on when you come back. you get comfortable, leaning into subong just slightly. he doesn’t say anything, just lifts his arm and lets you settle in against his side. the warmth of him seeps into you, and you rest your head on his shoulder. subong smiles at you before kissing your forehead, something that shouldn’t mean anything but somehow does.

you shift slightly, but he just pulls you in closer, his body solid and warm against yours. your heart stutters in your chest, and the thought of what you are—what you actually mean to him—becomes impossible to ignore. the longer you sit there, the harder it is to pretend this is normal. your heart is beating too fast, your mind racing with thoughts you’ve been shoving down for months. finally, you tilt your head to glance up. “subong,” you start, your voice quieter than you mean it to be. he hums, eyes still on the screen, but you can tell he’s listening. you swallow, suddenly nervous. “what… what are we doing?” that gets his attention. “what do you mean?” you sit up a little, putting some space between you—enough to see him clearly. “this. us. it’s been months, and we’ve never talked about it.” “what’s there to talk?” “i mean, is this just sex to you?”

he doesn’t answer right away. his jaw tenses, his eyes flicking away for a second like he’s weighing his words. “does it feel like just sex to you?” he finally asks. your chest tightens. “no.” his lips part slightly, like he wasn’t expecting you to admit it so easily. like maybe he’s been trying to convince himself of something different. “right. it’s not just sex, we’re friends, too,” he says. “then why are we acting like this?” you push. he rubs a hand over his face. “i don’t know.” he leans forward, elbows on his knees. the silence stretches thick between you, but you refuse to let it suffocate you. you need to know. “what do you want this to be?”

subong exhales hard, dragging a hand through his hair. he looks frustrated, like he doesn’t even want to have this conversation. like you’re ruining something by asking. “why do we have to call it something?” he says finally, and your stomach twists. you blink, sitting up a little. “because it’s been months, subong. because we’re not—we’re not just fucking and then going our separate ways. because we’re sitting here, cuddling, watching a damn movie, and it feels like more.” his jaw clenches, his fingers tightening around his knee. “it doesn’t have to mean anything.” that stings. worse than you were expecting. you swallow around the lump forming in your throat. “it does to me.” his face twists, like he hates hearing that. “shit, don’t fucking do this,” he mutters, shaking his head. “why can’t we just keep things the way they are?” “because i’m tired of pretending this is casual when it’s not,” you snap, your voice cracking. “not for me, at least.”

he squeezes his eyes shut for a second, like he’s trying to hold something back. when he looks at you again, his expression is unreadable, but his next words hit like a punch to the gut. “then maybe you shouldn’t have let it get this fucking far.” you feel like the air has been sucked out of the room. “what?” “i never promised you shit.” the words cut deep, sharper than anything he’s ever said to you before. you open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. because he’s right. he never did. but the way he touched you, the way he held you after—none of that felt like nothing. you shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your voice steady. “are you fucking kidding me?”

he hesitates for a second too long. and that’s all you need to know. you force yourself to nod, pressing your lips together. “okay.” his brows furrow, like he wasn’t expecting you to take it like that, but you don’t give him the chance to say anything else. you grab the remote, press stop on the movie, and push yourself off the couch. “you should go.” “are you fucking serious?” you cross your arms over your chest, fighting to keep your composure. “yeah, i’m serious. get the fuck out.” “we have one fucking shitty conversation, and now you don’t want me here?” he scoffs, shaking his head. “what the fuck do you want from me, subong?” your voice shakes, and you can feel it crack, but you force it out. “sit here and pretend like i didn’t just fucking tell you how i feel? pretend i’m not fucking hurt because you—” you stop yourself, biting your lip so hard it almost bleeds. his jaw clenches. “what?” you let out a bitter laugh, the sound sharp and bitter. “because you don’t fucking care.” “i never said i don’t care.” “you might as well have,” you snap, voice breaking with frustration. “you just don’t give a shit enough to do anything about it.” he presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek, breathing hard through his nose. “just because i care doesn’t mean we have to slap a fucking label on it!” “and i just have to be okay with that?!” you snap, your voice rising. “i have to sit here like a dumbass and pretend this is fine when it’s not?”

he throws his hands up, his face twisting in frustration. “for fuck’s sake, why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult?” “difficult?!” you let out a humorless laugh. “you’re the one acting like a fucking idiot, subong! you want to fuck me, cuddle me, act like i’m your fucking girlfriend, but the second i ask you to be honest about what this is, suddenly i’m the problem?! you even introduced me to your damn family!” he freezes for half a second when the words leave your mouth, then he stands up, jabbing a finger in your face. “what the fuck did you just call me?!” you swat his hand away, your glare burning into him. “don’t fucking point at me like that!” his jaw tightens, and his nostrils flare like he’s barely keeping himself from snapping. “you wanna talk about being a fucking idiot?! look in the fucking mirror!” he spits. “you’re the one acting like some needy little bitch because i won’t say what you wanna hear.” “fuck you, subong!” you don’t say anything else. you just turn on your heel and walk out of the living room, heading straight for the kitchen. your hands are shaking, your chest tight, and you just need to put some distance between you and him before you completely fall apart. behind you, you hear him scoff. “seriously? you’re just gonna walk away mid-fucking-conversation?”

you grip the edge of the counter, squeezing your eyes shut. maybe if you stay quiet, he’ll take the fucking hint and leave. but of course, he doesn’t. you hear his footsteps as he follows you in. “you always do this shit,” he mutters, his voice dripping with irritation. “running off the second things don’t go your way.” you whirl around, your eyes burning. “what should i do, then? hm? get on my knees and suck your fucking dick again?!” he clenches his fists at his sides, his mouth opening like he’s about to argue—but then he hesitates. because the truth is, you do mean something to him. he just doesn’t know how to fucking deal with it. subong has never done this before—never been in something that wasn’t just fucking around, never had to deal with real feelings, real expectations. and the idea of fucking it up? it scares the shit out of him. but instead of admitting that, instead of being honest for once in his life, he just does what he does best—pushes, lashes out. it seems easier than dealing with what he feels when he’s around you.

“why do you care so fucking much about not calling it something?” you ask, your voice softer now. “if we’re not seeing other people, if we’re always together, if you do care about me, then why?” his throat bobs as he swallows hard. and then—because he’s a fucking coward—he lies. “who says i’m not seeing other people?” you freeze. his face is unreadable, but you can see the way his fingers twitch at his sides, like he already regrets saying it. “you’re lying.” your voice is quiet. he just shrugs, “i’ve been seeing this girl.” “who?” you raise your voice, taking a step closer as tears start falling down your face. “who?!” “i’m not fucking telling you!” “are you serious?! aren’t we supposed to be friends too?! we used to tell each other everything!”

his eyes flick to yours, and for a second—just a second—something flashes in them. something like guilt. but then he shuts it down, scoffing as he shakes his head. you continue, “but we’re not even friends anymore, are we?” “don’t say that.” “why not? it’s true, isn’t it? friends don’t do what we do,” you wipe at your face, even though the tears won’t stop fucking falling. he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, pressing it against the inside of his cheek like he’s trying to hold something back. but then he just shrugs again, voice flat. “guess we’re not fucking friends either, then.”

your vision blurs as you cry, no matter how hard you try to keep it together. “get the fuck out, subong.” your voice breaks on the last word, and you hate how fucking weak you sound, how pathetic. and the second the first real sob rips out of your throat, something in him shifts. “fuck. no, i—” he exhales, raking a hand through his hair, his voice softer now, like he’s realizing he went too far. “i didn’t mean it. i’m sorry—i’m sorry, baby.” “don’t fucking call me that!” “you gotta listen to me!” you shake your head, taking a step back, your whole body trembling. “no. i’m done listening to your fucking bullshit.” “baby, please.” his voice cracks, and his hands reach for you—hesitant, like he doesn’t know if you’ll let him touch you. “please.” you slap them away instantly. “don’t fucking touch me.” “you’re really just gonna shut me out like this?!” “you shut me out first!” “i fucking care about you!” “not enough!” his breath catches in his throat, and for a second, he just stares at you. “you’re being fucking dramatic.” “get the fuck out of my house, subong.” “why are you being such a fucking—” “say it.” your voice is a challenge, daring him to go there. he doesn’t hesitate. “bitch. a fucking bitch. you—you’re acting like a bitch.”

you’ve had enough. without thinking, you shove him—hard. he stumbles back a step, caught off guard, but you don't stop. you shove him again, your palms flat against his chest. “you’re a fucking asshole! fuck you! get out! get the fuck out!” his jaw tightens, like he wants to argue, like he wants to throw something else back at you, but you're already stepping forward again, grabbing his arm and shoving him toward the front door. subong wrenches his arm away, but you don't let it stop you. you push him again, shoving him past the threshold. but he’s not moving, so you grab the nearest thing—his damn sneakers—and chuck them at him, one after the other. the first one bounces off his chest, the second one catches him square in the shoulder. “what the fuck, man?!” subong barks, flinching back, his face twisting in irritation. he barely catches the second shoe before it can hit the ground. “you’re a crazy bitch!”

“fuck off!” your voice cracks again, but you don’t care. you’re already stepping forward, already reaching for the door—and you slam it in his face. the sound echoing through the room. for a moment, silence. a long, awful pause where your breath hitches, where your chest tightens so much it feels like you’re suffocating. then—“open the door. c’mon, open—open the fucking door!” he slams his fist against the wood. “stop being so fucking childish!” “you’re calling me childish?! grow up, subong! you’re twenty six, you don’t know what you want and you still dress like a fucking kid!” he bangs the door. “you’re one to talk, girl! always dressed like a damn slut!”

you squeeze your eyes shut and stumble to your room until your knees hit the bed, and then you’re collapsing onto it. the first sob breaks out of you before you can stop it, and then another, and another. you curl into yourself, pulling the blanket over your head, pressing your hands against your ears. but it doesn’t block him out. “fucking talk to me!” another bang. you hear the doorknob rattle. “baby, please! i’m sorry, okay?! c’mon, don’t do this! we’re fucking friends!” your voice is muffled when it finally comes, thick with tears, but loud enough for him to hear you. “go away!” “not fucking happening! open the damn door!” “go away or i’m calling the fucking cops, motherfucker!” that seems to work. you curl tighter, press your face into the pillow, and sob until the sound of his fists against the door fades away. he did this. he made you feel this way. and he fucking hates himself for it. but it’s too late.

the next few days are absolute shit. you barely leave your bed at first. your body feels too heavy, your chest too tight, your eyes too sore from crying. when you do finally move, it’s only to go through the motions—brushing your teeth, pulling on the same oversized hoodie, forcing down a few bites of food even when everything tastes like nothing, and going to work. you don’t check your phone at first. you can’t. but eventually, the screen lights up, and you don’t have to look to know who it is. subong. you let it ring. he calls again. and again. when it finally stops, the texts start.

pick up the fucking phone

cmon baby please

i fucking miss u

don’t do this shit to me

u make me so fucking angry

bro istfg

please

you turn the phone face down. but he doesn’t stop. every time you glance at your screen, his name is there.

i know u r reading these

don’t fucking ignore me bro

at least tell me u r okay

minsu asked why u didn’t come with us today

just fucking answer

is it that hard?

years and years of friendship man and u throw it all away like that?

u r fucking selfish

i hope u know that

the texts keep coming. always at random times. but the worst ones come at night. one day, at 4:12 a.m., your phone buzzes against your nightstand. you try to ignore it, try to pretend you’re asleep, but something tells you to look.

im highhg as fuvckk bro

look whatu vdone to me

fukcing bittvhhh

its urA fault

i mis uu

u r myybhaby❤️❤️❤️❤️

its fucking 4am. i wake up at 6 to go to work, stfu and leave me alone

can i cone over? plewaasse

answer bitchj

fuck you, subong. i don’t want to see you again

come bsck

i loveyouy

you block him, roll over, and squeeze your eyes shut. but sleep doesn’t come easy. not when the last words he sent are still glowing behind your eyelids, burning into your brain.

blocking him should have brought peace. should have been the final step, the clean break. but it doesn’t feel like that. instead, it feels like holding your breath underwater, waiting to resurface, except there’s no hand to pull you up this time. the first few days, you keep checking your phone out of habit. unlocking it without thinking. but there’s nothing. you still reach for him in small ways—almost texting him when something funny happens, almost turning to tell him about your day. but you can’t do that. you won’t do that. so you keep yourself busy. you pick up a book, let your eyes scan the words without really absorbing them. go on long walks, let the cold air bite at your skin, hoping it shocks you out of your thoughts. start journaling, writing down everything except his name, except the way your chest still feels hollow. you even try new things—take a yoga class with a friend, bake cookies at 2 a.m., cut your hair just to feel something different. but memories of him are stitched into the fabric of your life.

you hear his voice on the radio sometimes now, when they play a song of his that went viral. see him in the reflection of dark car windows, like he’s just a step behind you. hear a joke and immediately think about how he’d laugh, head thrown back, eyes crinkling at the edges. you tell yourself that eventually, you’ll forget. but some nights, you lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if he’s staring at his too. if he’s thinking about you. and the ache doesn’t go away.

your phone rings one night, when you’re already in bed. you almost don’t answer, but when you see semi’s name flash across the screen, you pick up. “hello?” your voice is groggy, tired. “hey,” semi says. “sorry, did i wake you?” “no,” you lie. “what’s up?” there’s a pause. hesitation. then, “it’s subong.” your stomach drops. “we’re worried about him.” she rushes the words out, like she’s been holding them in for too long. “he’s been acting weird lately—worse than usual.” you close your eyes, already knowing where this is going. already knowing what she’s about to say before she even says it. “he’s been taking those pills,” she continues. “the ones he used to mess with sometimes, but now he’s on them all the time. it’s like he’s not even—shit. he was out,” she says, frantic. “namgyu couldn’t wake him up at first, it was fucking bad, dude. and now he’s still high as hell, barely making sense, and he keeps—” she hesitates. you frown. “he keeps what?” “he keeps mumbling your name.” you feel like you’ve been punched in the chest. you press your fingers to your temple, trying to stop the pounding in your head. “fuck.” “he’s not okay,” she says. “he’s barely sleeping, barely eating. he looks like shit. well, he always does, but you know what i mean. and when he does talk, it’s like he’s—like he’s not there.”

you take a shaky breath. you shouldn’t care. you don’t care. he’s not your problem anymore. but your stomach still twists at the thought of him like that. “maybe you could talk to him?” semi says, hopeful. “when he feels better. i think he’d listen to you. gyeongsu is gonna take us to the hospital in a few minutes, maybe you could come too? we’ll pick you up. we’re at namgyu’s apartment, we had to take him—” “we’re not friends anymore, semi,” you cut off, swallowing down the lump in your throat. silence. “what?” she says. “what do you mean?” “he hasn’t told you?” “told us what?” “it doesn’t matter,” you say finally, letting out a heavy sigh. “i can’t help him.” “but—” “i can’t, semi.” the words come out sharper than you mean them to. she falls quiet. after a long moment, she sighs. “alright, okay,” she says, voice heavy with disappointment. “i just… i didn’t know.”

and even though you tell yourself it’s not your problem, even though you tell yourself you did the right thing—you don’t sleep that night. maybe you’re the most horrible person ever. for not helping him. that’s what you think to yourself as the days go by. you don’t go to see him. you don’t text semi back. you tell yourself that there’s nothing you could have done, that he made his choices, that you’re not responsible for saving him. but the guilt sticks to your ribs.

you keep moving forward. and then, somewhere along the way, you meet him. he’s nothing like subong. not really. but sometimes, in the way he leans back in his chair, in the way he runs his fingers through his hair, in the way he laughs when he’s had one too many drinks—he almost is. (he even likes rap!) and maybe that’s why you let him take you out. why you let him kiss you. why you let him press his hands against your skin and pretend it feels right. it doesn’t. but you let it happen anyway. because it’s easier. because when you close your eyes, you can almost pretend it’s subong. it’s fucked up. you know it’s fucked up. but you tell yourself it’s fine. that it doesn’t matter. that this is what moving on is supposed to look like. but it’s not fair. you know you shouldn’t be doing this. and when he asks what’s wrong, why you get quiet sometimes, why you look at him like you’re seeing someone else—you just smile. shake your head. press a kiss to his lips and hope he never realizes that you don’t mean it. hope he never realizes that no matter how hard you try—subong is still the only one you see.

he invites you to a show one night, says it’ll be fun. you don’t really know much about it—just that it’s some rap battle tournament called ‘rap battlegrounds’—but you’re bored, and it’s something to do. you don’t ask too many questions because, honestly, you don’t care that much. he picks you up, and you follow him through the neon-lit streets to a club you’ve never seen before, the bass already thumping from inside. he leads you through the crowd to a small corner of the club. it’s dark, gritty, with exposed brick walls and dim, flickering lights that barely cut through the haze of smoke hanging in the air. the floor is sticky. it’s the kind of place you usually avoid, but tonight, you let it slide.

you're barely paying attention, your eyes drifting over the crowd, the noise just background filler. the battles blur together, the hype not really doing anything for you. you're zoning out, tapping your foot to the rhythm of the beat, hoping this night will pass quickly—regretting all your life choices when he wraps his arm around your shoulders. when suddenly, a voice crackles through the mic, cutting through the noise. “yo, yo, yo, we got a real one up next! fresh off that new heat, straight killin’ the game—make some noise for ‘thanos’!” you freeze, snapping your head to the stage as the crowd cheers. “…and he’s goin’ up against the beast, the local legend, the one and only jace ‘the hammer!’”

there’s no way. you blink, trying to process it, but everything’s too dark, shadows everywhere, making you second-guess yourself. but then, you hear it—his voice. your stomach sinks. this is real. subong is here. for a second, you think you might pass out. he’s standing there, center stage, all cocky confidence, rapping like he owns the room. you wish you could ignore it, wish you could pretend he’s just another guy on stage, but he isn’t. and you can’t. and then it happens. his eyes sweep across the crowd, like he’s eating up the attention, and then they land on you. he freezes. just for a second—just long enough for his flow to falter, the words dying on his tongue. the beat keeps going, but he doesn’t, and the guy he’s battling jumps in, taking advantage of the opening. subong blinks, shakes his head, tries to recover—but it’s too late. he’s lost the rhythm, lost the momentum, and the battle ends with subong’s opponent eating up the win. the crowd erupts, but subong doesn’t hear any of it. he stands there for a second, chest rising and falling like he can’t believe it—like he can’t believe he actually lost. then, without another word, he shoves the mic into someone’s hand and disappears behind the stage.

someone else takes the spotlight almost immediately, the next rappers stepping up, music booming through the speakers again. you turn to the guy beside you, grabbing his wrist. “i wanna leave.” he frowns. “what? why?” you glance toward the side of the stage, your stomach twisting. subong won’t just leave it alone—you know him. “i’m just—i’m kinda tired.” the nervousness in your voice alarms him. “are you okay? what’s wrong?” “nothing. i just don’t wanna be here right now.” he studies you, and you can tell the exact moment he realizes how tense you are, how your shoulders are stiff, how you haven’t stopped glancing over your shoulder. his expression softens, just a little. “hey,” he says, voice quieter now. “it’s okay. i’ll take you home.” “yeah?” “of course.” you don’t move when he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. and it feels like… nothing. just lips on lips, a fleeting warmth that barely registers. your chest feels tight, like you need to shake something off, drown something out. so you kiss him back, harder this time, pressing in, searching for something. maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s the way seeing subong on that stage messed with your head, knocked you off center. maybe you just want to prove to yourself that you can feel that rush with someone else. but you don’t. no matter how deep the kiss goes, no matter how much you try to lose yourself in it, there’s nothing there.

and just a second later, he’s ripped away from you—shoved back so hard he stumbles, nearly knocking into the bar behind him. and when you look up, you already know. subong stands there, shoulders tense, and his eyes locked on you. “what the fuck are you doing?!” “me?! what the fuck are you doing, subong?!” the guy composes himself and goes back next to you with a strained expression, one of his hands caressing his side. “what’s your problem, man?!” “who the fuck is this?” subong demands, his eyes never leaving yours. you exhale sharply. “just leave me alone.” disbelief flashes across his face like you’ve just insulted him. “nah, what the fuck is this?” he gestures vaguely between you and the guy. “this who you’re with now?” the guy straightens up. “is there a problem?” subong laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “yeah, there’s a fucking problem. who the fuck are you?” “just go, subong.” you cut in quickly. “no. i’m not fucking leaving.”

the guy beside you steps in, placing himself between you and subong. “you know this asshole?” he asks you. you sigh, “he’s… we used to be friends,” you reply. “yeah, and i’ve probably fucked her more times than you have, bro,” subong adds, a smirk on his face. “don’t listen to him,” you tell the guy before redirecting your attention to subong. “you’re being more than ridiculous right now. stop it. leave us alone.” he just stares, like he didn’t even hear you. like you didn’t just tell him to fuck off. “ridiculous?” he repeats, like the word itself it’s funny to him. “you wanna know what’s fucking ridiculous? you showing up here with—” he finally looks at the guy, eyes dragging over him like he’s barely worth acknowledging “—this.” “enough! i said… leave us alone.” “no, we need need to talk.” “she told you to leave, man.” the guy interrupts. wrong move. subong’s lips curl into something mean. “and who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?” he sizes him up, scoffing. the guy doesn’t back down. he squares his shoulders, keeping himself between you and subong like he actually thinks that’ll stop him. subong steps closer, just enough to invade his space. you step forward, grabbing the guy’s arm. “seriously, let’s just go—”

subong’s hand shoots out, grabbing his collar. the guy shoves him back instantly, and that’s all it takes. subong’s always been quick to anger, and now he’s pissed. “relax,” the guy says, lifting his hands like he’s trying to de-escalate, but subong’s past that. “relax? you want me to relax when you’re out here kissing my girl?” the guy exhales through his nose. “you wanna fight me over her that bad?” he shakes his head. “man, you already lost once tonight.” subong’s expression shifts in an instant. his shoulders go tense, his nostrils flare, and his jaw locks so tight you swear you can hear his teeth grind. he snaps, swinging first. it’s fast, a punch aimed straight for the guy’s jaw, but he dodges, stepping back just in time. the guy doesn’t waste time. he drives forward, ramming his shoulder into subong’s chest, sending him stumbling back. for a second, you think it might end there—but of course, it doesn’t. subong recovers quick, too quick. he surges forward, grabbing the guy’s shirt and yanking him down just to throw a knee into his ribs. the guy grunts, shoving him off, and then they’re both swinging. fists connect, curses fly, and you can barely keep up. the guy tries to hold his own, landing a few hits, but subong barely flinches. he’s fueled by something else, and he’s not stopping. one punch lands hard against the guy’s cheek, snapping his head to the side. another follows, a brutal hit to his jaw that makes him stumble. then another. and another. the guy grunts, arms coming up to shield himself, but subong doesn’t let up. he grabs the front of his shirt, yanking him forward just to slam his fist into his face again.

blood splatters. and that’s when you snap out of it. “subong, stop!” he doesn’t hear you. “subong!” he pulls back for another hit, and you move before you even think. you grab him by his shirt, using all your strength to shove him back. he stumbles, losing his grip on the guy, his eyes wild when they snap to yours. “what the fuck is wrong with you?!” you scream, chest heaving. subong’s nostrils flare, hands still clenched into fists like he’s seconds away from going back for more. the guy groans, wiping blood from his face. “you broke my fucking nose, man! you’re insane!” he yells. “shut the fuck up,” subong spits, but before he can go at him again, you shove him harder. “leave him alone!” his breathing is heavy, his eyes dark, burning into yours. for a second, you think he might listen, that the fight might finally be over. but then, in one swift movement, he grabs your wrist. “what are you—” you barely get the words out before he pulls you with him, dragging you through the crowd, past the stage. “let go of me!” you struggle against his grip, but he doesn’t stop. people turn to look, but no one moves to intervene. they just watch. before you know it, you’re backstage, away from the lights, away from the eyes—trapped in a space that feels too small.

subong finally stops, shoving you back against the wall. you barely have a second to catch your breath before you’re shoving him off. “what the fuck is wrong with you?! what the fuck was all of that about?! huh?!” you slam your hands against his chest, but he barely moves. his jaw clenches, and when he speaks, his voice is rough. “what the fuck is wrong with me?! you’re really asking me that?! when you’re the one out there acting like a desperate fucking slut?!” your head jerks back, a bitter laugh ripping from your throat. “are you fucking serious right now?! you just beat the shit out of him, and you’re mad at me?! for what?! for moving the fuck on?!” “yeah, i fucking am!” he snaps. before you can react, he steps in, closing the space between you in an instant. his hands come up, slamming against the wall on either side of your head. your whole body tenses. he’s seething, breath ragged and reeking of cheap liquor and god knows what else. “why?!” “because you’re mine!” “yours?! fuck off!” you shove at him again, hard. “and take a goddamn shower while you’re at it. you smell like a fucking alleyway.”

his nostrils flare. “yeah? well, you smell like a cheap whore.” rage flares hot in your chest. “right, because you’d fucking know, wouldn’t you?” you sneer. his head tilts, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. “at least i don’t pretend to have fucking standards. what’s his name, huh?” your stomach turns, but you don’t let it show. instead, you smile. “why? you jealous? go cry about it, asshole.” he leans in, voice dropping to a whisper. “you know he’s just using you, right? you’re nothing but a warm hole to him.” your hand flies up before you can think better of it, shoving his face away. “yeah. like that wasn’t exactly what i was to you too, motherfucker.” he stumbles back a step, running a hand over his jaw. “we never talked about what the fuck we wanted, or what we expected from each other. so don’t—don’t—” “that’s what you tell yourself? that you didn’t lead me on? that you didn’t fuck with my head for months?!” you cut him off. “you’re a fucking coward, subong. too fucking scared to admit you wanted me, but the second i move on, suddenly you give a shit?” “move on? to who? that fucking loser? you think he actually gives a shit about you?” “and you do?” “you can’t just act like we never fucking happened!” “we didn’t happen, that’s the thing!” you shoot back. “you didn’t want to be with me like that,” your voice wavers, but you force yourself to hold your ground. “so you don’t get to fucking act like this. you don’t get to be jealous, you don’t get to start fights over me, and you sure as hell don’t get to drag me back here like you own me.”

his throat bobs as he swallows. he looks away for a second, like if he doesn’t meet your eyes, this won’t sting as much. like he can pretend this isn’t hitting him the way it is. his fingers twitch at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching like he’s trying to hold onto something—maybe the last shred of whatever this used to be. his breath comes sharp through his nose, the kind that’s meant to steady him but doesn’t do a damn thing. “i didn’t mean it like that,” he mutters, voice rough around the edges. “i don’t—i don’t own you.” but there’s something bitter in the way he says it, like he hates that it’s true. like he hates that he ever let it get to this point. you’re not his anymore. you never were, really. “then stop acting like it! don’t try to ruin everything just because you can’t handle the fact that i moved the fuck on!” for a second, he doesn’t say anything. his eyes flick over your face, tongue running over his teeth like he’s trying to stop himself from saying something worse. but then— “if you had, you wouldn’t have let that motherfucker shove his tongue down your throat right in front of me.” you scoff. “you think i did that on purpose?” he steps in, too close, and you instinctively take a step back. “fuck yeah, you did. you wanted me to see it. you wanted to fucking piss me off.” “you piss yourself off, subong! newsflash! not everything is about you! get over yourself.” “get over myself? you made me look like a fucking idiot out there!” “what the fuck are you talking about?” his eyes flash. “you made me lose the fucking battle, man!” you blink, caught off guard for half a second, then roll your eyes. “first of all, i’m not a man. second of all, don’t blame that shit on me.” “right. it’s never your fucking fault, huh?” he shakes his head. “you just get to do whatever the fuck you want and act like it doesn’t affect me.” you throw your hands up. “if you weren’t such a fucking asshole, maybe this wouldn’t have happened!” “yeah?!” “yeah!”

and then there’s silence. thick, heavy silence. his breathing is still ragged, his hands still curled into fists at his sides. your heart is pounding, your own fists clenched just as tight. then subong scoffs, shaking his head. “you’re so fucking full of shit.” “excuse me?” “you wanna talk about me being an asshole when you’ve been ignoring me for months? like i didn’t fucking exist.” the pain in his voice is evident and it catches you off guard. “i wasn’t—i didn’t ignore you. i was trying to heal. you’re seriously throwing that in my face right now?” “yeah, i am. don’t act like you’re the only one who got hurt.” “don’t do that.” “do what? tell the truth? you fucking blocked me, girl!” “no! don’t—don’t twist shit around just to make yourself feel better,” you snap. “you know exactly why i did it. don’t act like you’re the fucking victim.” “who is it then? you?” he scoffs. “oh, eat shit, subong! you never fucking came to see me!” you throw your arms out, exasperated. “not once! you could’ve fixed this, but you didn’t.” his jaw clenches, but he doesn’t look away. “you think i didn’t want to?” “i don’t know what the fuck you wanted!” your voice cracks, but you don’t care. “i called! and texted you every single fucking day!” “and you think that’s enough?! after everything?!” "i almost fucking overdosed!" he yells. "i was at my fucking lowest, and you—" he lets out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "you weren't there." you shake your head, anger bubbling in your chest. "don't put that on me, subong. you did that to yourself," you snap, voice sharp. "don't fucking guilt trip me with that." "are you serious?" “what do you want me to say? did you expect me to just forget everything and come back to you like nothing happened? you promised me—how many times?—that you weren’t gonna do that shit anymore, and here we are! and not only are you trying to make me feel like a fucking piece of shit for it, but you’re also acting like this—all of this—is my fault? when you were the one who decided i wasn’t good enough to be anything more than a fuck buddy?”

his expression falters—just a flash of something almost guilty—but then he scoffs, masking it with anger. “you’re really trying to act like you didn’t fucking replace me the second i was gone?” “replace you?” you repeat, incredulous. “you can’t be serious right now. i wasn’t the one fucking other people when we were…. whatever we were!” he freezes, his face draining of color for a split second. “don’t bring that shit up.” “oh, I’ll bring it up, alright. because you can’t say that shit to me when you were too busy screwing around while i was waiting for you to call me your fucking girlfriend.” he opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, a group of people walk past, glancing over at the scene. a couple of them whisper, eyes flicking nervously from you to subong. his face hardens, irritation flashing across his features, and without warning, he grabs your wrist. “what the fuck are you looking at?” he snaps at them. the group quickly averts their gazes, pretending they weren’t just watching him. he yanks you away and you struggle for a moment, trying to free yourself from his grip, but he doesn’t let go. you’re too caught up in the heat of the moment to really think about where he’s taking you. before you know it, you’re being shoved through a door into a dimly lit room backstage, the door slamming shut behind him with a force that echoes in the silence. the room is small, cluttered with his belongings—bags, jackets, and scattered items. a mirror with round vanity lights casts a dull glow over the space, reflecting the mess on the counter: a half-empty water bottle, energy drink cans, his vape, a lighter, a bunch of candy wrappers and a few crumpled papers.

“you need to stop doing that!” you snap. “dragging me around like i’m—i don’t know—like i’m some puppet!” he ignores your words. “listen,” he says, “i tried to make it right, okay? i did.” “calling me? texting me?” you scoff, disbelief laced in your voice. “that’s what you think making it right looks like? all you ever did was send bullshit messages—half insults, half nothing at all.” you shake your head. “if you actually meant it, you would’ve come to me. you know where i live, where i work—you had every chance to show up, to prove that you actually gave a damn. but you didn’t.” his voice shakes now. “i thought… i thought you didn’t fucking need me anymore! i thought you’d be better off without me!” “better off without you?! that’s the dumbest excuse i’ve ever heard!” before you can stop yourself, you shove him, hard enough that he stumbles back a step. “you were my fucking best friend, you idiot!” your voice cracks as a tear rolls down your cheek, and you have to look away. “and i…” the words tangle in your throat. you swallow hard, forcing them out. “i fucking loved you.”

the words hit him like a fist to the gut. he swallows, his throat suddenly dry. because he knows. he knows exactly how that feels. he’s loved you too—probably longer than he even realized. but he’s never said it. not properly. not in a way that mattered anyway. and now? now it sounds like it’s too fucking late. “loved,” he repeats. “past tense?” you don’t answer. “you don’t—you don’t love me anymore?” the words slip out before he can stop them, and he hates how pathetic they sound, how fucking vulnerable they make him. “subong i—i’m sorry, i can’t… i can’t do this,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper. “answer me,” he presses, stepping closer, his pulse thundering in his ears. “please.” “i’m not talking about this,” you say firmly, reaching for the door. but he moves faster, pressing his hand against it, keeping you trapped in the small room with him. you squeeze your eyes shut, inhaling sharply. “i don’t want to see you again, subong.” “i do.” “well, i don’t.” “why not?” “because it fucking hurts!” the words barely leave your lips before the weight of everything crashes down on you all at once. “it… it hurts.” your throat burns, and suddenly, you can’t hold it back anymore. a choked sob rips through you, and before you can stop yourself, you’re crying.

subong’s eyes widen for half a second, like he doesn’t know what to do with the sight of you breaking down in front of him. but then, without hesitation, he reaches for you. “i know,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. “i know, baby.” the warmth of him, the familiarity, the way he holds you…it all feels too fucking good. too safe. too much like home. you sob into his shirt, fists clutching at the fabric, body shaking as months’ worth of pain and anger pour out of you. he holds you tighter, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other resting firm against your waist. “i’m sorry,” he breathes.

you suck in a sharp breath, realization slamming into you. and just like that, the warmth turns suffocating. “no,” you whisper, pushing against his chest. he stiffens. “what—” “get off me.” he hesitates, grip loosening slightly, but you shove harder, forcing space between you. “fuck, subong, what the hell am i doing?” he looks at you, confused, almost dazed, like he doesn’t understand why you’re suddenly pulling away. “baby—” “don’t call me that,” you cut him off. “i can’t—i can’t do this with you.” his jaw tightens. “you don’t mean that. you know you don’t.” “i do! because you fucking broke me!” you yell, hands trembling. “and i hate that you still make me feel like this!” you pause, trying to catch your breath, wiping at your face furiously. you hate the way the tears cling to your skin. you hate even more that he’s standing there, watching you cry. you force yourself to steady your voice. “i’m leaving.” “no, you’re not.” he’s there—blocking the door. you let out a frustrated breath, shoving at him again, but he doesn’t move an inch. “subong, move.” nothing. he doesn’t even blink. “is he your boyfriend?” the question throws you off balance. your brows furrow, and for a moment, the anger is eclipsed by confusion. “what?” “that guy. is he your boyfriend?” you exhale sharply, shaking your head as you glare at him. “jesus christ, subong, really?” “is he?” “it’s none of your business,” the words are clipped, laced with venom. his eyes darken. “none of my—?” he drags a hand through his hair, like he’s barely keeping himself together. for a second, it looks like he might actually lose it. “seriously? you can’t even say no?” “why does it matter?!” you snap. “it fucking matters to me!” your heart pounds. you don’t know why it’s so hard to answer, why the words feel like they’re lodged in your throat. his patience wears thin. “fucking hell, just—” “no!” you cut him off. “he’s not my boyfriend, okay?!” you shake your head. “did you fuck him?” “are you serious right now?” “answer the fucking question,” he demands, stepping closer. you scoff, shaking your head. “you’re actually insane.” “fucking answer!” “yes!” the word rips out of you before you can stop it. “yeah, i did. happy now?”

for a moment, he doesn’t react. he just stares at you, like the air has been knocked from his lungs. his jaw clenches, his nostrils flare. but nothing can stop the thought from sinking its claws into him—someone else touching you, having you, getting what he let slip through his fingers. it makes him sick. and it’s his own damn fault. he knows he has no right to be angry. no right to feel this way. but the jealousy curdles in his stomach, and before he can stop himself, the words tear from his mouth like a whip. “you’re a fucking whore.” the second he says it, he hates himself for it. but he doesn’t take it back. your fury is instant, white-hot.“fuck you! don’t call me that!” “i’ll call you whatever the fuck i want!” he snaps. he needs to hurt you, to make you feel even a fraction of what he’s feeling. “you really don’t see how fucking pathetic that is? spreading your legs for some guy who doesn’t even matter?” the words taste like acid in his mouth, but he spits them out anyway. he doesn’t know how else to deal with the anger, the self-hatred he feels. it’s easier to take it out on you than to admit the truth—that he ruined everything, that he’s the reason you were with someone else.

your vision goes red. before you can think, before you can stop yourself, your hand swings up and smacks across his face. his head jerks to the side from the impact, and for a moment, everything is dead silent except for the sharp sound of your ragged breathing. then, slowly, he turns back to you, his jaw tightening, his tongue running over the inside of his cheek like he’s tasting the sting of your palm. “did you just hit me?” his voice is low. oh, he’s angry. “yeah, i fucking did,” you say, your hands trembling. “because you’re a fucking piece of shit!” “you’ve got some fucking nerve!” he seethes, shoving your forehead with two of his fingers, forcing your head back slightly. you slap his hand away, your own anger doubling at the touch. “do that again, and i’ll break your fucking fingers, motherfucker,” you warn. “you just slapped me!” “and you called me a whore twice, subong! i wonder how the fuck i was ever friends with you! you’re a hypocrite!” he steps closer, jabbing a finger in your face. “don’t fucking talk to me like that!” “and i told you many times not to fucking point your finger at me!” you yell, shoving his hand away harder this time. so hard his arm jerks back. “who the fuck do you think you are?! you can’t fucking judge me when you’re the one who—”

his patience snaps. he grabs a nearby chair and hurls it at the wall. it hits with a loud crack, rattling from the impact before toppling over. you flinch, but you don't back down. “real fucking mature.” “you don’t fucking get it.” “why do you even care, huh? you have plenty of other girls to fuck, don’t you?” you spit. “so why the fuck does it matter who i’m with? why is it a problem when you do the exact same shit?” he doesn’t say anything. fine. you’re done here. you reach for the door again, shoving past him. “i’m leaving—” “i lied.” his voice stops you cold. slowly, you turn back, brows furrowing. “what?” he swallows hard. “i lied about it. there was never another girl.” you stare at him in disbelief. “i just—i said that shit to piss you off. to make you hate me. but i never—” he exhales sharply, shaking his head. “i never touched anyone else when i was with you.”

your mind spins, struggling to piece together what he’s saying. he’s lying again. he has to be. “you expect me to believe that?” your voice is defensive. “i don’t give a fuck if you believe me,” he snaps back. “it’s the truth.” your throat tightens. there’s something in his eyes, something desperate, something you’re not used to seeing. “why?” he hesitates. his lips part, then press into a thin line. “because i—” he exhales sharply, looking away for a moment before forcing himself to look at you again. “because i love you. i’ve—” “don’t fucking lie to me, subong.” frustration flashes across his face. “i’m not lying, okay?! i’ve—” “sure as hell you aren’t.” “jesus—can i fucking talk?!” you huff, arms crossing tightly over your chest. your jaw aches from how hard you’re clenching it. but you don’t interrupt again. you let him speak. “i’ve loved you for so fucking long, and it scared the shit out of me. you were my best friend and i didn’t—i didn’t know how to do it. how to be with you without fucking it all up.” you shake your head, gripping your arms tighter. “you can’t just say this shit and think it fixes everything,” you whisper, voice trembling. “you loved me, and you never told me. you preferred this… this shit between us rather than just… being fucking honest. you—” your breath shudders and you stop to breathe for a moment. “you’re confusing me, subong.”

he sighs. you can see it in his eyes—the regret, the pain, the anger at himself. then, he steps closer. his hands find your face, fingers gentle as they cup your cheeks. his thumbs move carefully, wiping away the tears you hadn’t even realized were still falling. his touch is soft—so fucking soft it almost breaks you. you squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing against the lump in your throat. you shouldn’t let him do this. shouldn’t let him hold you like this, shouldn’t let yourself sink into the warmth of his hands. but you do. because it’s him. “i’m sorry, baby” he murmurs, his breath warm against your face. “fuck, i’m so sorry.” his voice is lower now, and when you open your eyes, he’s already looking at you—his brows furrowed. “i didn’t mean to hurt you,” he continues, his hands steady on your face. “i swear to god, i didn’t.” “but you did.” “i know,” he whispers. “i was a fucking idiot.” his thumbs still trace slow paths along your skin, like he’s trying to ground himself in the feel of you. you try to look away, but he won’t let you. his grip isn’t forceful, but it’s firm—just enough to keep you there. “i can’t stop thinking about you,” he says, his brows furrowing deeper, like it physically hurts him to admit it. “no matter what i do—it’s always you.” “don’t—” “it’s the truth,” he cuts in, his hands sliding down to your jaw, his fingers just barely brushing your neck. “i wake up thinking about you. i fall asleep thinking about you. every fucking song i write is about you. every stupid little thing reminds me of you.” you shake your head, blinking back tears. “stop it.” “i can’t,” he breathes. “i don’t know how.”

he leans in slightly, his lips barely an inch from yours. “tell me you don’t feel the same, and i’ll go.” your heart pounds so hard it hurts. he’s so close… and the way he’s looking at you, like he’s daring you to push him away, makes something snap inside you. before he can say another word, you grab his shirt and yank him down, crashing your lips against his. subong freezes for half a second, like he wasn’t expecting it, but then he groans into your mouth, his hands gripping at your waist as he kisses you back just as hard. he barely gives you a second to breathe before he’s backing you up, walking you straight into the wall. the impact makes a sharp gasp escape you, but he swallows it down, one hand threading into your hair, tilting your head back as his mouth moves against yours.

then it happens—your breath catches, and before you can stop it, a tear slips down your cheek. he stops. his lips hover just over yours, his chest rising and falling against you, and he pulls back just enough to look at you. “are you okay?” you don’t answer. instead, you pull him back in, your fingers curling around the back of his neck. you kiss him harder, and he lets you—lets you take what you need, lets you pour everything you can’t say into this. his fingers tangle in your hair, tugging just enough to pull your head back before pressing his forehead to yours. “tell me what’s wrong,” he murmurs, breath hot against your lips. in a broken whisper, you finally say it. “i need you.” he’s been waiting to hear that. for months, it’s been the only thing on his mind—you. every time he got high, every time he tried to flirt with someone else, every time he told himself it didn’t matter, that you didn’t matter. but it was all a lie. because you did. you always did. and now you’re here, in his arms, needing him. and he’s so fucking mad at himself for wasting all this time, for pushing you away, for pretending he didn’t want this when you’ve been the only thing he’s wanted.

that’s all it takes. he’s on you in an instant, his hands gripping your waist as his mouth crashes against yours. he walks with you, never breaking the kiss, his fingers pressing into your sides, guiding you until your legs bump against the edge of a small table. before you can steady yourself, his hands move to your hips, helping you up until you’re perched on top of it. his lips leave yours, dragging along your jaw and your neck. one hand slides up, fingers curving over your breast through the thin fabric of your shirt. the touch alone makes a soft moan slip past your lips. he swallows the sound with another kiss, deep and greedy, before tugging your shirt up, his palms skimming your skin as he pulls it over your head. his other hand moves with purpose, working the clasp of your bra. the second it falls away, his mouth is on you. you gasp when his tongue flicks over your nipple, your head falling back as pleasure shoots through you. “gonna make you feel good, baby,” he promises, his breath hot on your skin as he switches to your other breast, his teeth grazing your nipple just enough to make you squirm. his free hand slides down your stomach, unbuttoning your pants with practiced ease before slipping between your thighs. you spread them instinctively, your breath hitching when his fingers brush against the damp fabric of your panties. “you’re so wet for me already,” he says, pulling back to look at you, his eyes dark with hunger.

subong takes his time peeling your pants off, pressing soft kisses to your thighs, your knees, your ankles. once they’re gone, he hooks his fingers into your panties, dragging them down at the same agonizing pace, his lips following their path. he tosses them aside without a second thought. then he’s on his knees, hands spreading your thighs wider as the cool air hits your skin, making you shiver. “let me show you how sorry i am, yeah?” you nod slowly in response. subong leans in, his breath hot against you, and you bite your lip, anticipation coiling tight in your stomach. and then his tongue is on you, licking a long stripe up your center, parting your delicate folds, exploring your wetness. you gasp when it finds your clit, your hands flying to his purple hair as his tongue swirls around it in slow circles. “f-fuck, yeah, right there,” you whimper, and he hums against you in approval.

he focuses all his attention on it, flicking his tongue over the sensitive nub before sucking it gently into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing out as he applies gentle pressure. you feel one of his fingers slide inside you, then two, curling them upwards and hitting that spot that makes your eyes roll back. his tongue never leaves your clit, licking and sucking in perfect rhythm with his fingers, and you can feel that familiar pressure building in your lower stomach. your hand travels to the side of his face, your thumb caressing his cheek as he works you. moans grow louder, your hips bucking involuntarily against his face. “subong—” you try to speak, but the words die in your throat—the pleasure too strong. he smirks, feeling you tightening around his fingers. “that’s it, baby” his voice is muffled against you. “cum for me.” and you do, your back arching, knuckles white from gripping the side of the table, a cry tearing from your throat as you fall apart. his mouth never stops, drawing every last wave of pleasure from you until you’re boneless, panting.

you try to catch your breath as he stands, pulling you into him, his mouth claiming yours again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. your fingers tremble slightly as they find the hem of his shirt, slipping beneath the fabric. he shudders under your touch, muscles tensing before he exhales, letting you lift the shirt over his head. it falls somewhere behind him as your hands roam his chest. this isn’t like before. like the other times you’ve had sex. there’s something different in the way his fingers brush your skin, in the way he watches you like he’s afraid to blink, afraid to miss a second of this. you reach for his waistband, tugging at it, and he lets you, his breathing uneven as he watches your hands work him free. his pants and boxers slip to the floor, and he steps out of them, never once breaking contact.

“do you… do you have a condom?” you ask quietly. he stills, his hands resting on your hips as he looks at you. his brows pull together slightly. “no,” he admits, then asks, “do you?” you shake your head. “no.” “shit,” he exhales, his forehead falling to your shoulder. you can tell he’s frustrated—not at you, but at the situation. “it’s… it’s okay. we don’t need one,” you add softly. his head snaps back up. “you sure?” he asks, and you nod. “i want to feel you.” your words are the confirmation he needs. he grabs your thighs before pulling you closer to the edge of the table, spreading them apart to find room between them. his raw tip presses against your clit and you take a deep breath when he starts grinding against you, his stiff dick sliding across your wet slit. you both moan at the feeling, but nothing compares to the gasp that escapes both of your lips the moment he slides inside of you.

he’s slow at first, letting you adjust to the feeling, his hands holding you in place as he sinks in deeper, stretching you around him. you try to steady yourself, holding onto the side of the table with one of your hands again. his breath is uneven, and each slow, measured thrust makes you ache for more. but then his pace shifts. his grip tightens, fingers digging into your skin as he pulls back and thrusts in harder and faster. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the space between you, mixed with your breathless moans and his ragged groans. when you meet his gaze, his brows are furrowed, his lips parted. you can see it all written on his face: how much he’s wanted this, how long he’s been waiting, how badly he’s yearned for you. he looks like he’s barely holding himself together, like he’s afraid he won’t last because you feel too fucking good. “fuck,” he grits out, voice strained, his fingers flexing against your hips. “i missed you s-so fucking much…” his words cut off in a groan, his head dropping forward, forehead pressing to yours as he fucks you like he’s trying to make up for all the lost time. “i missed this… mmm… missed this pretty pussy of y-yours.” he drives into you harder, like he’s trying to claim you, like he’s trying to erase every trace of anyone else who’s ever touched you—muttering curses under his breath like he’s punishing himself as much as he’s fucking you. your nails scrape down his back, leaving red streaks in their wake, and he groans at the sting, at the way you cling to him. “fuck, baby—” he gasps, voice rough. “was he better than me? tell me,” he demands, his thrusts turning brutal, each one punctuating his words. “did he—did he fuck you like this? mmh? shit… did he make you cum like i-i do?” there’s anger in his voice. not at you—at himself. for waiting too long, for not telling you the truth when he had the chance, for letting someone else have you. you shake your head in response. his hand grips your chin, forcing you to look at him. “answer me.” “n-no!” you whimper “he… he didn’t, baby. only you—mmph!—only you make me f-feel this good.”

his grip on your chin tightens for a second before he releases you, his hand sliding down to wrap around your throat instead. not squeezing, just holding—just feeling you. his pace doesn’t slow, if anything, it gets rougher, like your answer wasn’t enough to satisfy the anger. “that’s right,” he grits out, sweat slicking his skin. “he could never…he could never fuck you like this.” his other hand grips your hip hard enough to bruise as he slams into you, making you cry out. you hold onto him, and he loves it—loves feeling you claim him the way he’s claiming you now. and fuck, he needs this, needs to remind himself that you’re here, wrapped around him—that you’re his. “look,” he mutters, commanding. “look how fucking g-good you’re taking me.” your breath hitches as your eyes drop, and fuck—seeing it is different. watching the way his dick disappears inside you, the way your body clenches around him, the way he’s completely buried in you, over and over again… “see that?” he pants. “you were made for me. this was fucking made for me.” his hand moves again, sliding between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight, precise circles. “shit—subong!” you let out a broken moan. “y-yeah… fuck, yeah, just like that!” a whimper slips from your lips when subong fists your hair, tugging your head back up until your eyes meet his again. “say it,” he practically pleads. “say that you're mine.” “i-i'm yours!" you gasp, your voice shaking, your whole body trembling from the intensity of him. “i'm fucking yours…mmm… always been.” “i’m yours too, baby.”

his thrusts grow frantic and his breath comes in harsh, uneven bursts. all he can hear is the sound of his name falling from your lips in desperate, breathless moans. he swears he’s never heard something as beautiful. you can tell he is close, holding you in place as he leans over you, his forehead pressing against yours. your body tenses, your gummy walls clenching around him, his fingers still pressed on your clit as he pounds into you, making it impossible for you to hold back. your body tenses, and your free hand clings to the back of his neck with desperation as you kiss him, trying to muffle your whimpering. “gonna cum for me, b-baby?” he whispers, pulling away for a moment. “gonna—mmh! gonna cum on my cock?” you can’t even nod. his words are like a spark, and you can’t hold it back anymore. your body snaps, the pleasure flooding you. “subong!” you cry out, legs shaking. he watches you, his name on your lips, and the sight of you completely undone drives him to the edge. with a final, deep thrust, he follows you, quickly pulling out, his release spilling into your lower stomach. his face contorts, a strangled gasp escaping him as he rides out his own climax. he stays there for a moment, his body pressed against yours, both of you breathing heavily, sweat-slicked skin sticking together. “i love you,” you whisper, hands running through his messy hair. “i love you too, señorita,” he smirks, his hand cupping your cheek before leaning in to give you a small peck on the lips. “i missed you.”

subong is a good boyfriend. or at least he tries to be. he still messes up sometimes, still says things without thinking, still gets into fights he shouldn’t, but he’s trying. you see it in the way he waits for you after work, hands shoved into his pockets like he’s trying to play it cool, but you know he’s been standing there for a while. in the way he walks on the outside of the sidewalk, even though you never asked him to. you see it in the way he always grabs an extra drink when he stops by the convenience store, handing it to you without a word, like he just knew you’d want one. in the way he texts you did you eat? before he even says hello. in the way he always grumbles about carrying your bag when it looks too heavy, but takes it anyway. in the way he lets you steal his hoodies, rolling his eyes when you show up wearing one but never actually asking for it back. you see it in the way he lets you mess with his hair, even when he pretends to hate it. in the way he looks at you, like he still can’t believe you’re his. in the way he says your name, soft around the edges. in the way he tells you he loves you—not just with words, but in a hundred different ways, every single day.

there’s no confusion anymore. no second-guessing, no wondering where you stand with each other. he wants you, and he’s not afraid to say it. he tells you all the time, in every way he knows how. sometimes it’s casual, like when he looks at you in the middle of a conversation, something soft in his eyes, and says, “you know i love you, right?” like he just needs you to know. and then there are times when he’s shameless about it. like the time he made it his entire mission to embarrass you in front of both of your friends, throwing an arm around your shoulders and grinning as he declared, “isn’t my girlfriend the prettiest woman you’ve ever seen? no offense to you, semi.” there’s a beat of silence before half of them go “what?!” while the others just exchange knowing looks. “wait—dude, since when?!” namgyu asks. “oh, come on,” semi scoffs, rolling her eyes. “like we didn’t all see this coming.” subong just smirks, pulling you a little closer, dropping a kiss to your cheek. he’s here, and he’s yours, and he makes sure you know it.

you’re still best friends. you still laugh until your stomach hurts, still steal food off each other’s plates, still shove at each other like you’re kids. except now he kisses you after. or before. or sometimes instead of shoving you back. he’s still stubborn, still gets on your nerves more than anyone else. he’s not perfect, but he never pretends to be. and maybe that’s what makes it feel so easy. there’s nothing to prove, nothing to question. just the two of you, exactly as you are, exactly as you’ve always been. just you and him.

if you’ve read this far, i love you, let’s get married pookie ong

[kamospeach]

three's a crowd

starring: nerd!gojo x popular!reader x jock!suguru content warning: threesome duh, spanking, mating press, oral m!recieving, lil aftercare, boyfriends that are boyfriends, not that much tbh :P peachy's yap: chat i actually loved writing this ! pls give me more pairings in my asks hehehe

“20… 21… 22… fuck s-s-suguru c’mon.” satoru panted counting each slap suguru sent to your ass while his cock suffocated in his pants. If anyone in your college knew what the three of you were doing, you’d be shunned. How many girls get to say they have the most popular athlete and the richest guy on campus in their bed? How many girls get to say they got to fuck their hot best friends at that.

Rumors went around about the three of you. People claimed you had the men in some sick reverse harem (don’t let them see you with nanami, too, the rumors would fly like a bird). But I mean, they weren’t too far off; it wasn’t an harem, it was an occasional threesome here and there.

“I won’t stop until Satoru stops trying to help himself,” Suguru said, and that scared poor little Satoru straight. His legs were spread and his fists were balled tight as he counted your next 5 smacks. The two of you were leaking while Suguru’s bulge was pressed against your tummy, that laid over his lap. “You’re such a good boy, Satoru, maybe you could teach y/n how to listen like you.”

This was all because Suguru got jealous. He always ran every man you met away, and this new guy you were serious about. So when suguru asked, you refused to give him any details about the man. Satoru tried to stand up for you, but that only got him in just as much trouble as you.

“Sugu…” you whined as he rubbed your clit slowly in small circles. Your legs were shaking from the overwhelming pleasure, your pleading eyes beaded with tears. Satoru was torn between the two of you, wanting to be submissive for Suguru but dominant for you.

“You want Satoru to teach you?” he asked, beckoning Satoru over, and he wasted no time coming over to the two of you. You nodded eagerly, reaching out to rub his poor throbbing bulge.

Suguru smirked he was a freak, and he loved watching Satoru switch. Nothing got him more aroused than watching the two people he loved the most be intimate. He was having the time of his life watching your body lay at the end of the bed while satoru fucked into you like he was deprived.

Neither of them even bothered to take off your clothes for your planned coffee date. Your shirt still on, a tit threatening to slip out, skirt bunched up by your waist, and your fishnets ripped.

The way your legs were pressed to your chest and Satoru’s body leaned over yours. He was so close to spilling his cum all over satoru’s round ass. His cock rubbed against his ass every time Satoru thrusted in and out of you. 

“You think she’ll finally learn her lesson, Toru? Think she’ll be a good girl for us?” Suguru whispered in Satoru’s ear, but you heard it anyway. Satoru was fucking you so good your eyes were rolled to the back of you head. But that still didn’t stop you from commenting.

“F-fuck.. hah… both of you,” you said, words broken up by your pornographic moans. Usually, Suguru was the one who got angry at your vulgar words, but this time, something snapped in Satoru His thrust sped up and his rhythm became sloppily and he fucked you senseless.

“Looks like you made him angry, baby. Open your eyes, look at him while he fucks you,” he instructed sending a rough smack to satoru’s ass making him whimper. You forced your eyes open, immediately looking into those big blue eyes that were two shades darker out of anger.

“It’s fuck me? That’s what you said?” he asked, his voice strained, throat dry as a desert from the series of events. His glasses were fogged up, and sweat dripped from his forehead. Suguru didn't say anything, just quietly moved from behind Satoru and knelt next to your head. His fat cock above your face and stroking his cock to the look on your fucked out face.

“Mmm toru…” You whined, looking Suguru in the eyes, knowing how he felt about eye contact. His cock twitched in his hands with each pump just from the way you looked at him.

“P-please make her suck it sugu, w-wanna see her mouth stuffed with you.” satoru whined begging his hips slowing to a halt as he hyperfixated on the two of you.

“Open for me pretty,” he instructed you to open your mouth. The minute your mouth opened he was fucking your throat mercilessly. Your jaw was hurting from the jump, and your gags were music to his ears. The sloppy spit and your teary eyes were enough to have the two men filling you full. “want you to cum with me toru, can you hold it until i’m ready?” he asked and toru moaned with a small nod.

“Yeah, I can… hah… i can wait.” his eyes were trained on the spit that bubbled around suguru as he fucked your throat. Your mascara was running down your eyes, and lip gloss was still on your lips. “Can… can y/n cum with us too sugu please?”

Hearing him whine and beg had you clenching around him. He was always so caring, always asking for you, caring about you, even when he knew Suguru would get mad. You looked up at Suguru's eyes, matching Satoru’s pleading words.

“Mhm,” he hummed, grabbing Satoru’s chin, kissing his wet lips still fucking your throat. The sight was enough to make you moan, which caused Suguru to groan in Satoru’s mouth. Satoru was rubbing your clit while fucking you making your pleasure double fucking you harder than before.

It was obvious they both were starting to chase their highs, rushing to finish. You were getting closer and closer to finishing, and you were hoping so were they. You resorted to playing with Suguru’s balls, a weak attempt at milking him, knowing he was the one who lasted the longest.

“Sugu m’ready…” Satoru, whined, looking up at him with those blue eyes, pouting as he felt his climax piercing through him. 

“Wait one more minute for me, Toru, you’re doing so good, so are you y/n you’re both so good.” he was clearly rambling now. Which was a tell-tale sign that he was closer than he let on. “So wet, so hot, fuck m’cumming. Shit.” 

“On one, mkay?” Gojo said, and the two of you nodded ready to cum when ever gojo finished the countdown. “3… 2… 1,” he said as he released inside you, the sight of your body convulsing and suguru’s dick twitching in your month had him unload more cum than usual. 

Suguru kept his cock in your mouth until he was completely drained. He used his thumb to open your mouth removing his cock letting it slap against your face. You stuck out your tongue, showing him you swallowed it all, panting like a dog. Out of breath wasn’t even the word to explain how you felt; you were exhausted. 

You could tell it wasn’t over for Satoru, Suguru still had a hungry look in his eyes. But sweet satoru was fucked out dick lip on his tummy as he laid next to you. You pushed the hair out of his face, giggling at his drowsy eyes. You leaned down, kissing his forehead, out of nowhere, hands gripped your waist, lifting you from the bed.

“Gonna start you a bath, Satoru’s not done yet.” Suguru smiled as he turned on the water for you.

“W-wait, huh, what do you mean?” Satoru asked, and Suguru ignored him as he made sure your bath was nice and warm. He even added a little bath bomb in there for you while Satoru was begging for answers. “Hey. Suguru! Don’t be like that man!” 

[halo-chainsaw]

Shut up i'm talking patreon only 7$!!!!!

The patreon podcast is out, and I have just finished listening to it!

I decided to write down some notes for those who are interested but do not have the patreon. It's a long one, but I picked out what I thought would be important + silly moments here n there

Podcast is recorded the morning of Dream's video (I'm sorry but not to Tommyinnit)

Tommy called his mom about the situation first, discussing about how it was awful (pre reddit post)

Harry wrote the "you can call me anything but do not call me poor" LOL

Tommy didn't watch the dream stream but read a synopsis, and he said that was enough

He's spoken to Dream privately several times (starting 2023), all his friends told him that dream was taking advantage of him, but he wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt

He has told dream to change how he acts, and dream has refused. Has had conversations like this multiple times.

Told dream in a conversation he was no longer speaking to him and was no longer talking to him after he talked to his mom. Was previously ignoring him but blocked him outright.

After his dream v quackity sketch dream sent him awful and mean messages.

Jack and Tommy are pissed off about people saying to "resolve it privately". They have tried multiple times to solve things privately, but Dream will take things public.

Jack had a 2 hour long call with dream on jack's DADS BIRTHDAY??? and it was about why he didn't like dream, and about dream's allegations.

the "Jack mentions Dream" account bothers Jack since its a bunch of indirect things, and him responding to messages rather than him just bringing Dream up.

Dream says Jack spreads rumors about him.

Jack does not think dream is a p*dophile, but he finds the situation(s) he was in wildly inappropriate.

Dream showed everyone his evidence against the grooming allegations in the DreamSMP discord. Jack said he told Dream it weirded him out, because either way, he was still messaging a fan, and it pissed Dream off.

Jack flat out calls Dream "stupid".

He's very pissed about the "unfaithful" rumor, and he's very vocal about it for a minute.

Jack reiterates the editor story with the 50 quid

They point out how the Dream ignores the George and Caiti situation, along with clipping Tubbo out of context.

"I can't believe he thought he could win by just lying. Especially when you've got a reputation of lying." -Jack (paraphrased/two different sentences put together)

Tommy says the video were for him, not everyone else. Makes a jab about Dream unable to use media literacy.

Tommy says Dream knows what he's talking about when he refers to misogyny. That there's so much more behind the scenes, that it's miserable.

Tommy says he doesn't want to do any of this anymore, that it's pointless. He says Youtube doesn't make him happy, that he doesn't fit in, and he wants to be done. He will still be posting to Youtube because he loves making videos, but he doesn't want to be part of the Youtube sphere/culture. He wants to be a proper comedian.

"I might as well go down sayin' what I fuckin' mean." -Tommy

brings up the "putting others down", Tommy reiterates how he's been very kind/warm to everyone, but if someone famous is being an asshole he's gonna make a joke about it. "That's what I've done with Logan, done to you, and what I'm going to continue to do."

Tommy calls him one of the most self indulgent and exhausting people he's ever met.

Brings up Dream calling him the internet police, he says that he's just sick of the bullshit. "When I see it, say it."

Tommy reiterates he can't do this much longer, that it's all pointless. Dream is just doing what he's been doing for years. He is not proud of dream and he doesn't respect him. Tells him straight to "Fuck off".

Tommy would talk to Jack, unsure if what was happening with Dream was odd/bad or not. He's a little relieved that it's in the public eye now.

Jack talks about how everyone on the server is talking against him, that no one is defending him. They've all known he's awful.

Tommy says he felt close to Dream, so he struggled with seeing the bad actions he had done. He felt skewed/manipulated.

Tommy tells a story about back when he was 14, he would annoy people in Hypixel by lobby spamming. One day he heads into a streamer's chat that he looked up to and said hello. the streamer, who was about 20 at the time, tore into him, calling him the R slur and many other horrible things. He said he felt heartbroken and shaken up. "Shit like this just happens along the way, and it's miserable, but like- for me, I just keep remindin' myself "this isn't the first time I've done this"."

Jack tried to make his disassociation as public as possible, he had told Dream to his face (during the allegations) in the DreamSMP discord that he did not want to be associated with him anymore.

Talks about how people still group DreamSMP members with Dream, and how they think every member is bad due to Dream's actions, and he's tired of it.

He doesn't like how public everything is, but he's glad people can finally see that they don't like Dream.

Tommy, from now on, is telling everyone how he feels. He's going to be blatant. (if that's what i understood from a comment he made)

Jack is still shocked that Dream chose that moment of all things to jump in. They have made comments here and there but Dream never said anything.

Jack talks about a part in his stream where he says something along the lines of "I'd understand this type of outburst if we had been bullying im for weeks and weeks. But we haven't been. Nor would that make it okay." And then someone on twitter said "Jack just admitted that they'd been bullying Dream non stop for weeks and he's proud of it!!!!" Jack says he can't believe people's ability to misinterpret.

Tommy saw Tubbo dissecting Dream's stream for 7 hours and knew that was the point it was becoming ridiculous.

Jack blatantly calls out how Dream uses manipulation tactics in how he speaks to the public. Tommy calls it painful for him to watch because it's what Dream had done to him and others in private.

Jack goes back to Dream's stream, talking about their phone call together, about how it was disingenuous and weird to bring up publicly. He says there are things he can't talk about publicly that formed his opinion.

"I just think he's like an impossibly self-indulgent, selfish man, who thinks everyone's on his own time." -Tommy

Jack thought Dream was purposefully being negligent in the way he would speak, and while he still is, he is seeing that a lot of it also comes from Dream not being able to pick up on social cues and norms. Though, he also reiterates that it doesn't excuse his awful behavior.

"I don't get how he can't listen to anyone else." -Tommy

Both of them have talked to Dream multiple times about how he acts and he never listens. Not even just them, they say "We all have really tried", which implies more members of the SMP or other personal friends.

"He doesn't seem to feel very much empathy for the pain he's caused, and if I was in his shoes- I don't know where his guilt is." -Tommy

They talk about his inability to apologize and how they can't understand it. Tommy gets a little heated. Dream has given them empty apologies and goes to do the same things again. They talk about how he doubles down over and over until no one sides with him, that's when he apologizes.

Jack calls Dream dismissive, and how its obvious that he doesn't care.

Tommy implores the audience to not imagine these dramas as Youtubers doing it, but to imagine their friends doing these things. Youtubers are not above others, there's no difference. The only difference is responsibility.

Jack points out how it's odd that they decide to post these things. It shows that they just double down on their awful actions.

Tommy ends by saying he doesn't want to continue this, but if there are things that need to be said then they will be, but on the Patreon.

Jack says he is done as well, that he's done with all his serious points, but he will be making jokes here and there. He won't be joking about rumors, but things that actually happened.

"Anyway, back to writing!" "Guys, let's all get back to coding."

[loveharlow]

need more protective jj pls!!

⋯ ♡ᵎ 💬 : i don't think i have any more hc ideas for him but here's something small :p

The bonfire crackled, spitting sparks into the night sky, a vibrant contrast to the pulsing music and the laughter that echoed across the sand. The air, thick with the scent of ocean water, cheap beer, and a hint of weed. You were nestled beside JJ, his arm slung loosely around your shoulders, the warmth of his skin a comforting anchor amidst the chaos.

"Want another one?" he shouted over the din, gesturing vaguely towards the cooler.

You shook your head, a smile playing on your lips. "No, I'm okay. This one's still half full." You held up your plastic cup, the condensation cool against your fingers.

JJ's eyes, usually alight with mischief, held a softer, more possessive glint tonight. He nodded, then, without a word, gently plucked the cup from your hand. "I'll hold it for ya," he mumbled, his thumb brushing over your knuckles before he tucked the cup into the crook of his arm, already holding his own. He knew you had a tendency to put it down anywhere. It was a small gesture, almost imperceptible in the dim light, but it made your chest fill with a certain warmth. He always did little things like that – catering to your needs, taking care of you without you ever having to ask, really.

A group of Kooks stumbled past, one of them bumping clumsily into your back. You flinched, muttering a small 'ouch' under your breath, but before you could even register it, JJ had shifted, eyebrows set into a firm frown. His arm tightened around you, pulling you closer, almost flush against his side. He shot a glare over his shoulder at the retreating figures, a silent warning in his narrowed, blue eyes. The Kooks, perhaps sensing the latent danger radiating from him, didn't even glance back.

"Dick..." He scoffed. "You alright?" he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

"Yeah, fine," you whispered, leaning into his embrace. You loved how he always had your back, how his protectiveness felt less like control and more like an unbreakable shield.

Later, as the party swelled and the music grew louder, you decided to brave the makeshift dance floor. JJ, of course, was right there with you, his movements loose and uninhibited. You laughed, trying to mimic his carefree sway, when a guy, someone you barely knew, tried to cut in.

"Hey," he slurred, a little too close, a little too familiar. JJ immediately clocked it, his shoulders tensing. "Wanna dance?"

Before you could even formulate a polite refusal, JJ stepped in front of you, his body a solid barrier. He didn't say anything, didn't even raise his voice. He just looked at the guy, a slow, deliberate sweep of his gaze that started at the kid's shoes and ended with a piercing stare into his eyes. It was a look that spoke volumes.

The guy's confidence visibly deflated. He mumbled an apology, something about "just asking," and quickly retreated into the crowd.

JJ turned back to you, a slight smirk on his lips. "The fuck's up with everybody tonight? 's like douchebag central..." he said, then pulled you closer, his hand finding the small of your back and holding you firmly against him as he resumed dancing. Every so often, he'd lean down and whisper something silly in your ear, or press a soft kiss to your temple, making sure anyone watching knew exactly where his attention, and yours, was.

JJ Maybank Taglist in replies!

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading. follow & turn on post notifs for @theharlowpost for writing exclusive updates!

©loveharlow

[semisasseater]

I COULD EAT THAT GIRL FOR LUNCH

Yeah, she dances on my tongue .

SUMMARY ‘ eating you out like there’s no tomorrow ♡

𓊆 世美 𓊇 x f!reader 㞫⠀⠀ ִ ⠀ 1,161 smut overstimulation squirting mild dominance slight degradation praise kink posses — 类型 smut pwp (porn without plot)

✴︎ LIBRARY ✴︎

‧˚⠀⠀ 🖤⠀⠀ ɞ 作者注 : i’m gonna try to pressure myself to write more so maybe 3 fics will come out today..? also i wrote this half asleep so it’s ass💔

se-mi had been watching you all night.

Her gaze never wavered, never strayed from the way you moved—how your body swayed without a care, the soft glow of dim lights casting golden shadows across your skin. You were addictive. A temptation she couldn’t resist, a craving that settled deep in her bones and refused to be ignored.

She knew what she wanted.

And se-mi always got what she wanted.

When you finally noticed her staring, she didn’t look away. If anything, her smirk deepened as she raised a brow, wordlessly daring you to come to her. And you did, of course you did. You always did.

Now, back at her apartment, the air was thick with heat, with anticipation, with something that felt like hunger but ran so much deeper. She had barely let you step inside before she was on you, lips crashing against yours, hands gripping your hips like she’d die if you slipped through her fingers.

“Missed you” she murmured against your mouth, her voice rough, needy. “Need to taste you”

Her hands were already working at your clothes, tugging your top over your head, unbuttoning your baggy jeans with practiced ease. She was impatient, barely keeping it together as she guided you toward her bed, but there was a tenderness in the way she cupped your face, in the way her thumbs brushed along your cheeks before she pushed you down onto the mattress.

“You think about me when you touch yourself?” she asked, voice dripping with smug amusement as she kneeled between your legs.

Your breath hitched. “Se-mi—”

Her lips curled. “That’s not a no.”

She wasted no time. Hooking her fingers into your waistband, she dragged your panties down your thighs, tossing them aside before spreading you open with both hands. The sight alone made her mouth water, her tongue piercing catching the light as she licked her lips.

“Fuck” she exhaled, her voice barely above a whisper. “So pretty.”

And then she was on you.

Her mouth latched onto your clit like she’d been starved for days, tongue pressing flat before flicking, teasing, devouring. The cold metal of her piercing sent jolts of pleasure up your spine, the sensation unlike anything else, making your thighs twitch as you tried—and failed—to keep still.

Your hands flew to her hair, fingers tangling in the strands as your back arched off the bed. “Oh my—s-semi fuck—”

She hummed, the vibration sending another shockwave of pleasure straight to your core. Her hands gripped your thighs tighter, pinning you in place as she worked you over, her tongue dipping lower before dragging back up, slow and torturous.

You were shaking. Your body was betraying you, giving in too easily, too quickly, but se-mi wasn’t having it.

“Not yet” she murmured, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, her lips slick and glistening. “You’re not coming yet”

She dove back in before you could even process her words. Her tongue was relentless, licking into you like she could consume you whole, like you were the only thing that had ever mattered. She moaned into your pussy, the sound vibrating against you, making you sob as your thighs trembled around her head.

It was too much. The heat, the wetness, the way she sucked your clit into her mouth just to let it go with an obscene pop before starting all over again. Your body was strung so tight it hurt, pleasure coiling in your stomach like a rubber band about to snap.

“P-please I—”

“Shh,” she cooed, pressing soft kisses to your inner thigh, her fingers tightening their grip on your trembling legs. “I got you baby just take it.”

And you did. You let her ruin you, let her pull you apart with her mouth alone, let her fuck you with her tongue until your vision blurred and your breath came in broken gasps.

The second her piercing dragged over your clit again, your body locked up. Your hands clutched the sheets, a strangled cry leaving your lips as you shattered, pleasure crashing into you like a tidal wave.

Then it happened.

A gush of liquid erupted from you, soaking se-mi’s face, her chest, the sheets beneath you. You barely had time to process it before she moaned, deep and satisfied, licking up every drop like she was dying of thirst.

“Fuck look at you” se-mi groaned, her voice thick with satisfaction as she dragged her tongue over her lips, tasting every drop you’d given her. Her face was glistening, soaked in you, and yet she still looked ravenous—like she could do this all night and never get tired.

Your body was trembling, thighs twitching as aftershocks rippled through you. Your chest heaved with ragged breaths, your mind floating somewhere between bliss and disbelief. You had never, ever come like that before—had never been reduced to this shaking, incoherent mess of a person.

But se-mi wasn’t done.

“Baby

You whimpered, legs weak, too spent to respond.

Se-mi smirked. “Did I fuck you dumb already?” She kissed her way back up your body, slow and deliberate, her tongue trailing over your stomach before she reached your lips. She tasted like you, her mouth warm and intoxicating as she pressed against you, deepening the kiss until you were melting into her.

“You taste so fucking good” she murmured against your lips. “Could eat you for every meal and still never get enough.”

Your breath stuttered, a soft whimper escaping as her fingers traced delicate patterns along your oversensitive skin. She was teasing you now, savoring you, watching every little reaction like she was committing it to memory.

“Se-mi” you finally managed, your voice weak, wrecked.

She grinned. “Yeah baby?”

You swallowed hard, trying to collect yourself, but she didn’t make it easy. Not with the way her fingers dipped lower, just barely brushing against your still-throbbing clit. Your body jerked in response, and she let out a breathy chuckle, clearly enjoying how easy it was to break you.

“Too much?” she asked, tilting her head as if she actually cared about the answer.

You should’ve said yes. Should’ve begged for a break, for a moment to breathe. But instead, your lips parted, and the word that slipped out was the exact opposite of what your exhausted body needed.

“No..”

Se-mi’s eyes darkened, her smirk widening into something wicked.

“That’s my girl”

And just like that, she was back between your legs, pinning you down as she kissed the inside of your thigh, her tongue flicking out to taste the evidence of your last orgasm.

“Hope you don’t have plans tomorrow” she murmured against your skin, her breath hot, her grip firm.

Because se-mi wasn’t stopping until she had wrung every last drop out of you.

@semisasseater

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Hello Aubrie! Goood, I love your writing so much, and I couldn't wait to send in another request!

Could I ask for Eyeless Jack and his s/o going on a date day? How it would look like and all that? (can be sfw/nsfw)

I decided to keep it just SFW this time as I was just in a fluffy vontent mood today, but you can feel free to request date night specific spicy stuff with EJ next time if you'd like :) I hope you enjoy, I'm extra tired today so my writing may be different but I had a need for EJ fluff

Your date day actually ends up being a date night with this one, as your boyfriend is nocturnal, however, he gets up a bit earlier than normal if the two of you want to spend a "day" together. Normally waking at about 6:00 pm, Jack will get up around 4:00 on a day the two of you wish to spend together. He'll spend a little while waking up, curled up in bed with you, discussing things you want to do, getting ready to go out with you, just waiting for the sun to go down more so Jack can handle being around the light (as he can't handle visibly bright light very well, hence the nocturnal part :p).

He'll make sure you get something yummy to eat for dinner, and that's usually your first spot on your date nights. The Underworld is full of restaurants that operate 24/7, so he'll take you out to eat at whichever place you'd prefer to go to, and you'll both sit and talk for a while over food. Even with the nocturnal citizens out and about, the Underworld is a lot more quiet at night, so Jack enjoys walking through it with you, enjoying the peace of it. The two of you might window shop a bit, going into any stores that catch your eye. I think if it's warm enough you two have a tradition of getting ice cream together, because there are places that serve a mix of demon and human appropriate flavors, so you can get whichever flavor you'd prefer, and EJ can get his go-to blood ice cream so he can enjoy it as well. Following that, Jack always loves taking you for another walk, this time through the forests of the Underworld. The air is nice and fresh, and the creatures running about are usually attracted to Jack, so he always gets excited by the chance to tell you what the different animals are, and because they trust him so much you can even pet them while they sit contentedly beside him.

It's not until either the sun starts coming back up or you start to get too tired that the two of you finally begin to make your way back to the mansion together. Once you get back, Jack normally prefers to enter relaxation mode with you again. You'll take a relaxing shower together, and then put on some perfectly fluffy, soft pajamas (Jack is a connoisseur of comfortable fabrics), and curl up in bed once more. Some nights you guys might put on a show in the background, or some music, or anything you're in the mood to watch and just sit, and cuddle to the background noise. However, there are also nights like tonight, when you snuggle up and read together. It always starts with both of you reading your own preferred books in silence, but then usually one of you grows more tired faster than the other (usually you, as it's generally 5:00 am by this point), and the other person will read their own book aloud for both of you. Days like these generally end with you fast asleep in Jack's arms due to your need for sleep overcoming you, and Jack will always chuckle and set his book aside, before pulling you into his chest, and finally falling asleep himself. You usually always wake before him, unless you sleep the whole day away (sometimes Jack also just refuses to let you out of his arms on purpose but shhhh it's fine, it doesn't matter), but post date day snuggles are also mandatory in this relationship, so really, date days are like two days in one because you've gotta recoup your energy from staying up so late. Even if the two of you just spend a date day curled up inside playing board games or reading, or even just silently snuggling up, Jack doesn't mind, so long as he gets to spend as much time with you as possible, anything is fine in his opinion. He's just thankful to have you there with him.

[haroun31]

Let me take care of you

●|Y!Phosphophyllite x gem!reader|●

●Dark theme--Obsession--Violence--Read only if you are in the right mind set

●I DO NOT CONDONE ANYTHING THAT IS WRITE IN HERE! IF YOU FIND IN A SIMILIAR SITUATION PLS SEEK HELP!!!

(This is an old one shot I wrote like two years ago but never posted, might had it on my book Hnkxreader on Quotev, need to think about it)

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How could this have happened? No wait, that was a question you already knew the answer to, the real question was why hadn't you done anything? You watched his mental health decline step by step, piece by piece. It had all started when Antarcticite had been taken away during that tiring winter but to tell the truth perhaps the nightmare had started even before then. Slowly like a virus, it first made sure to make its way among the colorful inclusions and then exploded in a catastrophe. 

"Im sorry. . .sniff. . .Im s-so sorry. . ."

What kind of friend were you? Can you really call yourself a friend? After all, you didn't do anything special, you only treated him with decency, like a normal friend, you never really got angry at him. It wasn't like you to get angry anyway. And deep down it made you a little sad to always see him all alone in the middle of the vast expanse of grass. Yes, he was certainly lively and a little awkward but you didn't really understand why the other gems felt such contempt towards the peppermint one. 

Clink. . .clank. . .tap. . .clink. . .tap. . .

Maybe you should have listened to them though. 

At a certain point everything had degenerated, you had lost Morga, Goshe, Ghost and Phos' head replaced by that of Lapis. Then the latter was captured and taken to the moon only for him to return completely changed. He no longer seemed like your old friend, he seemed more like a stranger to you. Since he returned from the moon he had become much clingier than usual, almost to the point of being suffocating, as if with every step you took he was at your side, as if every time you went on patrol you could feel his pearly white eye burning your back.

And then out of the blue he asked you to go with him to the moon. On the moon? At that moment you thought that the Lunarians had brainwashed him and this was another one of their stunts to capture you all.

You refused. 

And maybe it was a mistake. Like a switch Phos flipped from calm to panicked. He immediately tried to make you change your mind, even going so far as to beg you and you had the feeling that he would even threaten you if he didn't give in to your umpteenth no. You had seen how the Lunarians had changed Phos, you didn't want the same thing to happen to you. 

Maybe you should have been the one to convince him not to return to the moon but the truth was that you no longer saw him as the friend you knew and loved. That Phos had already been dead for some time. 

"I'm s-sorry, I'm sorry, forgive me. . .p-please, I didn't mean. . .it" 

Then he returned and the earth gems destroyed him and threw his pieces around the island. The one you had you put it under the pillow of your bed. A beautiful fragment of phosphophyllite. It reminded you of the past. But then he was rebuilt by someone and managed to escape. You had an idea who the culprit might have been but revealing it wouldn't change anything. 

You never saw him again until that fateful day. A festive day that should have been reserved for nothing but joy and fun. How ironic. All of you were unaware that the gateway to hell would open that night. Especially, for some reasons. For you. 

Thousands of sunspots appeared in the sky covering it with spots, then from the central one your old friends appeared and in the center of them a gem you had never seen. Gem was a kind description, he was more like a demon, devil, monster, call it what you want but that thing had no right to bear the same name as your lovely innocent old friend. 

It was a complete massacre. Most were exterminated by Alex. You had been spared from his fury only because Benito had beheaded him, now only you and Euclase remained in that room. Phos approached you two, almost gleefully stomping on all the fragments. Euclase tried to talk to him but was mercilessly beheaded before being tossed aside like an old doll. 

Now only you were left.

And you knew damn well that you couldn't do shit against him. Because fuck, at the end he was still your damn fucking friend and you cant hurt him. You already did it when you left him. So you didn't mind that much if he destroyed you. It would have been a bit like the pay for not having tried harder to save him. 

So you dropped your sword as his blade cut you in two and you lost consciousness. 

The story should have ended here right? 

"I-I. . .I just wanted everyone to love m-me. . .Im sorry please. . .you are the only one who cares about me. . .im sorry, im sorry, why did I do that?"

So imagine your surprise when you regained consciousness and the school ceiling welcomed you. You weren't fully adjusted yet, you couldn't feel your legs, a portion of your left arm and your head. Trembling hands completed what was the puzzle of your body, feeling that more and more consciousness and memories resurfaced in your mind. Did Sensei manage to calm down Phos? Did Cinnabar or Jade defeat him? 

Yet a long goopy golden string inserting your missed eye was enough to make your non-existent heart stop. Hadn't they made it? Or did Phos had a change of heart? You could hear his incomprehensible, nonsensical muttering in the background with the words he repeated the most being sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry and sorry.

He was sorry.

"Phos?" your voice was uncertain and his muttering stopped when he heard it. Suddenly the gem, demon appeared in your vision. He hadn't changed, still half destroyed with alloy spikes protruding from his neck and back. That pearly white eye stared at you with such intensity that if you had the strength you would have shuddered. From it flowed uninterrupted tears of gold that fell onto your face before sliding down and mixing with some other pool of alloy. 

He was crying.

"____. . .Im sorry! Im sorry for destroying you! I shouldnt have done it! Im sorry, im sorry, please dont be mad at me! You are the only one who was kind to me! You dont deserve this treatment please, please, please, please." he begged with an exasperated tone as his alloy coiled around you like a snake and continued to rebuild you. 

Feeling that your right arm and abdomen were solid enough you slowly sat up looking around "Phos...what happened?" All around you you could see shards of gems littering the floor. Not bodies, just fragments. As if someone had bothered to chop them all up. At the sight of such a massacre you felt like you were about to self-destruct, a small crack had already formed on your cheek and immediately Phos took your face in his hands and brought it back towards his so that you could no longer see anything. 

God, you didn't know which view was worse. The shredded remains of your friends or the demon that took over your old friend's body. 

His touch was too sweet for a monster like him and with a little powder he covered the crack "I crushed everyone"

You could perfectly see it.

"A-And Sensei?"

"I destroyed him too" he responded coldly, a rather frightening contrast to the state he was in initially. He went too quickly from one emotion to another. "What about the Lunarians?" you continued trying to look around but not being able since Phos still has a tigh grip on your face "Aechema had arrived. . .he wanted the eye of Adamant. I gave it to him and told him to leave me alone. I have no idea what they'll do now. The Lunarians who were here. . ." a dark look covered his face and the white eye almost seemed to light up ". . .they're gone dont worry."

You were worried but not for that. Why was Phos rebuilding you? Has he finally achieved his goal? He wanted to destroy Sensei right? So now he will rebuild everyone and then. . .and then you'll finally sort out this whole thing, right? "We will rebuild the others right? You're rebuilding me so the others will come back too?” You asked as his attention shifted to your broken arm. 

"The others. . ." he began, his tone was cold as inverse and it was as if a veil had fallen over his white eye as if he was getting lost in thought "They never cared about me" suddenly his grip on your arm tightened chipping the surface, his expression dark and totally no longer present in this plane of reality "No. . .they don't deserve to come back. . ." you winced at the force trying to wriggle your arm out of his grasp ". . .I wont let them-"

CRACK!

"Ouch fuck!"

You cursed holding your broken arm, fragments of the gems you were made of fallen down reflecting the sunlight. "Oh. . .oops" Phos said completely emotionless looking at the piece of your arm in his hands before trying to take your broken part and even if you tryed to back away it was no use because his alloy held you in place while he worked on fixing you. 

First he was desperate, then he was acting chill and now it was like he was emotionless?! He was such a fucking mess! A ticking bomb ready to detonate at the first mistake. You could have wriggled, screamed, rebelled but looking at the situation you were in, it wasn't as if Phos was hurting you himself, on the contrary, so you decided to let him do it. 

You will pulverized his face in the future.

Plus it seemed like taking care of you calmed him down and made him happy. His touch was loving and delicate as if he was touching the most fragile gem in the world. You just couldn't understand what was going through his mind, this was no longer Phos, but a demon with his appearance. 

Inserting piece after piece he continued his work as you watched him in silence continuing to ask yourself questions that will never be answered. Of course the most common one was, what will happen now? What does the demon in front of you plan? 

Cling, Clang, Tap, Cling, Cling

Inserting the last piece of your right arm you stretched your hand before your eyes examining the beautiful work done, your pupils then dropped to your legs, still broken, and then moved to Phos. At his side were the rest of your legs already rebuilt, all you had to do was attach them. You looked at them and then looked at Phos expecting him to finish the job or at least pass them to you. 

But his white eye simply watched you, his body giving no sign of moving. "Your uniform is destroyed" he pointed out which made you look down at it. It actually wasn't in good shape at all, in fact, it looked like you were wearing rags instead of a uniform. Kneeling at your side the demon picked you up almost abruptly making you let out a gasp at the sudden movement.

"Phos!? Wha? My legs! What about them!?" you shouted at him as you felt the alloy wrap around your body "Phosphophyllite! Give me my fucking legs! Come on!" you exclaimed again noticing how the gem had ignored you. Phos continued his advance towards where Red Beryl's laboratory was without sparing you a glance. Not wanting to play his game anymore you tried to squirm trying to free yourself from his suffocating grip but all you got was the alloy becoming more aggressive to the point of tying your wrists behind your back.

"Oi Phos! What the fuck are you doing!? Answer me damn it!"

"Let me take care of you"

That was all he said to you before entering the laboratory and taking the first clean uniform he could find then he tried to make you wear it having had a lot of difficulty in his attempt as you continued to struggle repeating that you wanted answers. That wasn't an answer! You wanted to know what was going on! Why you were the only one that Phos was rebuilding, why the others were practically reduced to dust, why he didn't want to give you your legs back! Why?! 

After your umpteenth struggle, Phos' patience was wearing thin and he swiftly twisted his alloy around your arms, pinning you practically on top of the table you were sitting on and brought his face within inches of yours. "If you don't stop I'll break your arms too. I don't care. I just need you to be conscious. Understood?" his tone was cold and his eye was empty like a doll's. 

You nodded.

"Good"

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That night Phos cried.

He cried like a baby, hugging you as he continued to tell you how sorry he was for threatening you and that it will never happen again. You didn't believed the last part. He was too unstable, the fact that he was back in his desperate phase was more than enough proof of that. For the moment you had identified 4 main phases that he tended to take on during the day, the desperate, the emotionless, the furious and the calm. The last one was your favorite. It was the only moment he was willing to answer any of your question.

The next few days were hard for you. You hated from the bottom of your soul that you couldn't do anything. Any proposal you made to reconstruct the other gems was immediately shot down and 90% of the time his mood immediately transitioned into the furious phase. Same thing if you tried to rebuild them yourself. With difficulty you dragged yourself towards them trying to sort through the thousand very small fragments. 

Punctually Phos had caught you in the act and was so angry that he grabbed your arm and broke it. He didn't give it back to you until the next day when with a loving touch he reattached it to you and then burst into tears again at the sight of your visible fractures. It was always so tiring to deal with hid mood swing. Walking on eggshell. It was not fun. And you still didn't understand why you were brought back, why only you? 

"You were kind to me, you are kind to me. My friend, my only friend. I don't want the same thing that happened to Antarc to happen to you too. I cant let it happens"

Why then not bringing the others back?

"You never know who might betray you. They destroyed me without even hearing what I had to say. . .I won't let anyone hurt you. Let me take care of you"

Which translated meant, I don't want to suffer anymore, I want to be loved even if it's just an illusion. And the only person he knew who could love him was you. 

And despite all those swing moods, despite the demon that inhabits your old friend, you wanted to help him. You felt like a fool everytime you felt pity for him, he was liyerhelding you captive! It's not fair. It's not fair how that monster uses his appearance to deceive you because he knows you're desperate enough to believe that old Phos is still there somewhere. So when he cries you console him and he absorbs that affection you give him as if it were lifeblood, desperate for more affection. Something he hasnt got in so long.

He loves taking care of you. Heal your wounds. Help you get from one place to another. Hold you in his arms. It makes him feel like he's finally useful in something, like he's no longer the pathetic old bumbling gem. It makes him feel good. Because this way he can blame his old self if Antarc had been captured, that if he had been as strong as he is now nothing bad would have happened. 

After the news that the white gem could no longer be returned, Phos no longer wanted to risk it. He didn't want to lose you too. Even though you hadn't wanted to follow him to the moon, you had always been his friend, you had treated him with so much kindness that perhaps not even Sensei had ever treated him that way. You were funny, strong, kind even if you tended to curse a little too much. 

So he was happy to be able to solve your problems. Too bad he was the one who created them. Sure he felt extremely guilty if he broke your arm but then the feeling of fixing you was too intoxicating that he simply forgot. It was so much intoxicating that sometimes he wanted to break you on purpose just to rebuild you. But of course he never did. He loved you too much. He could not. 

"I will protect you"

"From who that the only danger here is you"

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Sometimes you wondered how the gems were doing on the moon. Had they already achieved nothinghess? Were they and the Lunarians already gone? Had they abandoned you? 

But then you saw some sun spots in the sky and your non-existent heart beat faster at the idea that perhaps they would come to save you. To tell you the truth, you wouldn't have cared if they took you away but you wanted your friends to be able to be rebuilt. Obviously, however, Phos destroyed them before they could do anything. 

The only chance you had to save your friends was to take their fragments away from the school and place them in plain sight so that the Lunarians would see them and, once Phos was no longer present, take them. You were aware that you didn't know if they would actually rebuild them but it was the only way to save them. Phos kept controlling you so you couldn't. 

The demon didn't ask questions when you took a bag full of gems with you on your walks. He didnt wondered about it when you asked him to take you away from school and while he watched you scatter the fragments. He thought you couldn't stand to see the remains of your old friends anymore and he understood that. 

He had been thinking about throwing them into the sea for some time but that was fine too.

He didnt care.

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After a few years Phos decided to give you your legs back and you couldn't be more than happy. 

You finally no longer had to rely on Phos to get from one place to another. Not that you can go very far now anyway, in the end you lived on an island. Where would you have fled? In water? 

"Are you happy?"

Phos asked you wrapping his arms around you looking at you with his heterochromatic eyes. After a few years of searching he had managed to find the remains of the fragments of Lapis's head and fix it. "Im happy" he continued in a cheerful tone "I always wanted happiness and I received it with you. Only with you." closing his eyes he put his head in the crooks of your neck, a thin blanket separated you two so that you could destroy each other. 

"I love you" a lil kiss was planted on your cheek that cracked together with his lips.

You loved Phos too.

But this wasn't your adorable old friend but a demon in his guise. 

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[heretical-cogitations]

Chairon x gn!reader

Word count:  ~880

I haven’t seen too much written about him and think he deserves more love, so have this: how I can see yours and Chairon’s relationship starting and how you end up convincing him to bed you. Once again, I already have more, I could write about….

Warnings: MDNI 18+, intercrural sex (thigh fucking), Chairon being the most loving and sweet man, very brief mention of oral and fingering.

Please let me know if I’ve missed anything!!

I can see a relationship with him starting surprisingly naturally, he is the type to always greet the baseline around him and strike up small conversations, he is aware of how in awe they are of him, but he just likes yapping.

Then he meets you and you both just seem to click together. Chairon finds himself actively seeking you out, wanting to know more.

He starts looking for little things to bring back to you when he is deployed, little gifts that come with stories he can share.

Eventually this leads to you forming a romantic relationship in private, both sneaking around, to not get caught. Despite him being so careful, his brothers can tell something has changed. Chairon can’t really school his expressions well especially in the eyes of fellow astartes, and so when he is pressed about why he has been creeping away in the night he crumbles pretty quickly, gushing about you.

He is so much larger than you in every way and could so easy kill or seriously injury you without even thinking about it. So, he is petrified of being intimate in anyway with you in the beginning, it’s not at all for lack of want.

Numerous innocent kisses turning into soft moans, roaming hands and heavy petting before he abruptly stops, apologising that he can’t continue.

No matter how much you protest he won’t hear it, so you have to get creative.

Your first attempt is suggesting oral, which Chairon is excited to give but refuses once again to receive. More of your little meetings go by tension twisting tighter and tighter until you mention intercrural sex. That seems to snap that rising tension weeks if not months of skirting around what you both want crashing down full force.

He has you on your back ankles grasped in one hand, pulled to rest on his shoulder, hips held suspended in the air to be level with his own as he lathers his cock in lube before slowly inching it into the smooth embrace of your thighs.

Breath stuttering as he feels his length grind against your sex. Eyes fixated on the apex of your thighs, watching the head of his cock appear with each thrust precum smearing across your abdomen.

He realises this is close to how deep he would reach if you took all of him inside you, the revelation causing a deep groan to rumble out from him spare hand roaming the expanse of your chest to rub a thumb over that spot.

“S So beautiful, my sweet, I have craved this for so long, thought about you for so many nights.” Interrupting himself every few words with soft moans thrusts gaining speed and force, eventually bouncing you up with each slap of his hips against your arse and thighs.

Your own moans growing more needy and erratic only encouraging him to continue at tis punishing pace.

“O oh C Chai p please, I It feels so good, need more.” You sound angelic to him, hips bucking up against him.

“What do you want, sweetheart?”  hand travelling up roving over and up your body ending at your cheek cupping it, thumb rubbing lovingly over the skin beneath. Hips still grinding pace unfaltering.

Your legs are pushed closer and closer to your chest as he leans down, body curling under him to

“N need you i inside me p please.” You moan out arms wrapping around this neck pulling him as close as you can your plea repeating over and over as he pushes you closer and closer to your climax.

A low growl emitting from him, his head knocking forward forehead resting against your own. The deep timbre of his voice cut through your begging “My light, there will be time for t that in the future… I I can tell you are close, so am I.” hot breath fanning across your cheek. You pull him impossibly closer head nodding, moaning into the crook of his neck.

Your hips crashing together, as you buck up uncontrollably against his as you cum, a series of pitched moans of his name spilling out of you as you bit down into the skin of his neck. Legs trembling with each white-hot jolt of pleasure that burst through you.

He’s quick to follow hips press yours down squashing you under him as he spills his seed across your stomach, pooling where you are folded, face nuzzling into your hair as he sighs out your name.

You both stay tangled for a moment, basking in the afterglow of your orgasms.

Sitting up Chairon unlatches your arms from his neck before gently removing his grip from your ankles pressing soft kisses against them. “You were amazing, as always my dear.”

“As did you, my lord.” You hum in return serene smile spread across your features.

After this, it is less of an uphill battle to get him into bed, than it was before.

Able to coax him into fingering you with 1 then 2 and ultimately 3 of his fingers over multiple different occasions each followed with him fucking your thighs.  

He has developed a bit of an obsession with your thighs because if this.

Eventually, you convince him to actually fuck you.

But that is for another day…

[raginggeeksworld]

Chapter 12

Forever falls Apart

A/N: I know I promised not to disappear for months again, but hey, I finished first semester of university with straight A's, so that's a win😅 This is a long ass one!

We are on the highway to hell for the next 2-3 chapters, I LOVE YOU GUYS THO

P. S. Mind you, I'm on my third rewatch of Glee while writing this

[Lil' guide: the divided parts are flashbacks, and the things said in "this format" are !SPOILER! 's voice echoing.]

Taglist: @kiraflowersworld @vainillasmil157 @bookloverfilmoholic @so-get-this-sammy @ell0ra-br3kk3r @hufflepuffprincessbabe @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @bitterspoons @wonderland2425 @noorie101

Fear has a habit of altering even the sanest of minds. It's like a disease, a plague that clouds your every thought until you are nothing but a mere semblance of the person you were before. It can cloud any reasonable logic you have, making you act irrationally.

And it can make you completely useless. Frozen like a statue. Disconnected from reality. Indifferent to what's happening around you. Trapped with your thoughts. Speechless.

Kaz stood and watched as Y/N fell from the sky, leaving a pool of blood where she sank into the sea. He watched as he waited for her to come up and wave to them, probably cursing about the cold water and her wet clothes. He waited, and waited, and waited, but she never emerged. Her voice was ringing in his ears.

"Promise me, Kaz. If I show symptoms of an addiction, promise me you won't give any jurda to me. Even if it means I'll die."

Kaz felt the urge to throw up. He held onto the railing of the ship with all his might, no doubt that his knuckles were turning white under the gloves. His heart was beating loudly in his ears, making him deaf to anything else.

The feeling came suddenly and Kaz feared he was going to drown in it. His breathing became rigid as he tried to keep any ounce of control he had left in him.

"We are soldiers."

Kaz blinked and out of nowhere Jesper and Inej were looking at him, terrified. Why was Jesper completely wet? How long was he standing there? Did they found her? Or has the sea claimed her forever?

"She won't wake up," Jesper told him with a trembling voice, tears burning his eyes. Matthias was taking off his fur, while Nina began the chest compression, using her powers to restart her heart.

Her hands were already covered in blood.

Inej and Wylan stood a few steps away from them, their eyes full of horror. Kaz saw the people around him speak, but the sounds didn't reach his ears.

Oh.

"If it comes down to it, let me die. Don't let me suffer. Please, Kaz, promise me."

That suffocating feeling returned much stronger, and it made Kaz unable to speak. He couldn't look away from the limp body that was holding him mere minutes ago. The bile rose in his throat, but Kaz refused to throw up. He felt sick, and all he could think of was the fact that now Y/N was just another one of the cold bodies that were suffocating him.

Kaz felt like his heart could stop any second, but he was physically unable to take his eyes off of her. Every attempt Nina made at reuscitating Y/N felt like a twist to the knife in his chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Will you ever tell me-"

"Y/N." She interrupted him and for a second Kaz just looked at her, utterly confused.

"What?" He asked, but the girl just smiled back at him.

"You were going to ask my name. It's Y/N." Kaz only nodded, but he was already testing her name in his mind. Y/N. Y/N. He found it way too casual a name for someone like her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a muffled sound coming from next to him. Someone was trying to speak to him. Kaz didn't know who it was, and he didn't really care either. Y/N was dying. Or was she already dead? Should he go over to her? Check her pulse? Make sure she's alive? For that to happen, Kaz would've had to move and touch her skin.

Cold. Numb. Red. Void of any sign of life.

"I will march with you in times of war."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Do it." Kaz demanded on a quiet voice, but Y/N just giggled. "No." Kaz asked again as he leaned heavily on his cane, visibly drunk. "Y/N, pleaseee."

"Absolutely not. Now get inside," she told him, pointing to the open door of his room. Kaz shook his head and tried to keep his face neutral, but his blown pupils betrayed his inebriated state.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but a laugh escaped her. "This is the last time I turned into a cat while you're drunk."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cold. She must be feeling cold.

Kaz's movements were rigid, like he didn't even process what he was doing as he took his coat off and walked closer to Y/N's body on the floor. Then he stopped as if rethinking his decision, when he raised his gaze and noticed Jesper and Inej sobbing.

His first thought was that something must be really wrong if Jesper was uncontrollably sobbing. Jesper was an emotional person, but Kaz had never seen him cry, not even once.

To see him nearly choke on his own tears felt wrong to Kaz.

He looked at his coat in his hands, gripping the fabric so tight he might as well could've tore it apart. Kaz tried to control his erratic breathing, but it was harder and harder to do, the longer he kept staring at Y/N's body. The only color she had left was her own blood coating her. Kaz lowered the coat in his hand. She won't need it anymore.

Kaz felt the stares from the others, but he didn't dare look at them. He couldn't. How could he? He knew the kind of look they were giving him. Sadness. Grief. Pity. More pity. More sadness. He didn't need it. He didn't need their pity, he needed Y/N.

His Y/N. His best friend. His wife. Them staring at him with pitiful looks won't bring her back.

"I will rest with you in times of peace."

Kaz could still feel the way she was grabbing onto him on the tank. How she was holding him like he would disappear if she didn't. And after she ripped herself away from him, for one fleeting second, Kaz could see the guilt in her eyes.

That one second was already haunting him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was standing so close to him, Kaz could almost feel her heart beating. He looked at her like she was going to disappear if he didn't.

Her eyes had a faint glint in them from all the candles that she lit earlier. Kaz raised a hand to cup the side of her face and when she gently leaned into his touch, Kaz let out a gasp of breath he didn't even realize he was holding.

Y/N just smiled at him, and Kaz decided then and there he was going to change.

For the better, for Jordie…and for her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He turned away from them. He felt his eyes burning and Kaz knew if he didn't leave, he was going to break down in front of them, no matter how strong his self-control was.

This was his breaking point. Losing his brother, the only family he had left, was like a death sentence to him. He couldn't go a day without something reminding him of his absence.

Then Kaz stumbled upon Y/N. Or rather, she stumbled upon him. She was annoying and too talkative, always making some noise and seeking Kaz's company whenever he was in the same room as her. Kaz did everything to avoid her, but she was persistent and eventually Kaz got used to her constant presence. He would've never admitted it, but sometimes he asked for her companion on purpose. Although he always had a made-up excuse for it.

Kaz stepped away from them, slowly, as if he was in a daze. In a way he was. His mind kept replaying every moment they spent together. Wether it was the two of them, or a mission, or just another night at the Crow Club. Every single interaction they had ever since they have met ran through his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No matter how hard I try to erase you from my mind, you sneak back in by simply existing. It's… frustrating," Kaz said as he dragged himself to his feet, every fiber of his being drenched in the harbor's water.

Then he looked at her, and he felt his heart stop at the way she was looking at him, like he was something worth looking at.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a gentle tap on his shoulder and Kaz aggressively hit the hand away, not even looking at who it was. He kept walking, not really knowing where. The chamber? The bottom of the ship? Back to her? Should he sit down? Should he continue with the plan? He would have to create a new one, without…her.

"I will forever be the weapon in your hand, the fighter at your side, the friend who awaits your return."

Kaz didn't plan this far. He didn't plan for this, because he was sure he was going to be the one to die. His death seemed most likely to happen. Not hers. Ghezen, not her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Raffiel's fiancé stood near Kaz, watching him with a suspicious gaze. Kaz didn't know what to make of it, so he turned to her with a questioning look.

"You're just another fool under that cold exterior." She said with a faint smile as she watched Kaz look back and stare at Y/N.

"Watch out, Brekker. You look like you're falling."

I think I already did, Kaz thought to himself as he left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What was he supposed to tell her family? What was he supposed to say to her brother, when he left basically saying she was going to come home, and not him? What was going to happen when Raffiel saw Kaz return, without her?

He would probably beat Kaz until he's nothing but a sack of bones and meat. Or shapeshift into a wolf, or a dog, or something predatory and tear him limb from limb. Kaz would take the punishment gladly. He decided that if Raffiel attacked him, he will let him.

There was another tap on his shoulder, but it was harsher, urging him to look at them. Kaz refused to, even when they stepped in front of him and began shouting at him. The closeness of the other person finally made Kaz look up, only to see Jesper's tear stained face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bottle was already half empty when Kaz finally decided to sign the papers. The papers he specifically asked for. With every signature, he took another sip from the glass. He finished the bottle too quickly for his liking. Everytime he wrote the name down, a part of him wanted to burn the papers, but the other part stopped himself from doing so. He told himself he was only being cautious, that this was the rational thing to do. But deep down Kaz knew that it would take all of his strength to control himself and not run to Y/N. The wedding ring was practically burning in his pocket.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kaz got lost in his thoughts again, and Jesper desperately tried to make him understand what he was saying. As he took in the empty look in Kaz's eyes, Jesper felt like he was talking to a ghost, rather than a human person. He never could read the emotions on Kaz's face, but this time it felt as if Kaz was drained of every emotion. Jesper could see it in his eyes that Kaz's mind was elsewhere, somewhere far away from the present.

"I have seen you change at the bottom of the world."

"For fuck's sake Kaz, are you even listening to me?!" Kaz heard Jesper shout into his face, and he looked at him. Jesper still didn't know if Kaz was actually hearing his words, but he kept speaking once again. "She's breathing Kaz. She's alive." He said and felt himself tear up again.

Kaz only looked back at him with slightly furrowed brows. Internally he was confused. Why was Jesper saying this? Why is he lying to him? Was this his way of trying to…console him? He didn't need consolation. Didn't need their pity.

Jesper's words made Kaz feel like someone just punched him after a fight, right before shooting him. Jesper must've noticed his confusion, because he looked into Kaz's eyes, not breaking eyecontact, hoping Kaz would finally understand him.

"She. Is. Alive." Jesper's words were firm, not leaving room for discussion. Kaz turned visibly confused, but Jesper just repeated his words. Kaz grew more and more confused, as Inej walked up to them. Kaz was glancing between the two of them, his brows furrowed, the confusion turning into irritation.

"Nina is taking care of her. She's too weak, but she's breathing." Inej informed him, but then her expression turned softer. "Look at her, Kaz. She's alive." She nodded behind Kaz, where Nina was still crying, accompanied by a relieved smile.

Kaz was almost sure his own mind was playing tricks on him. A joke. This must be a cruel joke. He must have been in so much distress and shock that he began hallucinating. The floorboards swayed under him, but that could've been caused by the waves crashing against the ship. Either way, it felt like everything was spinning around him.

He became dizzy, and soon the familiar feeling of bile rising in his throat got his attention. Kaz focused so hard on trying not to empty the contents of his stomach that he didn't even notice when he was left alone.

His heart was beating too loud. Breathing felt impossible. There were multiple voices around him, muffled by his own heartbeat. His vision was blurry and the cane in his hand did nothing to help him walk. In just a few seconds, Kaz walked as far away as he could from the group, and when he was sure they couldn't see him, he leaned over the railing and threw up.

The cold wind did nothing to ease his nausea. Kaz felt like he was back on the barge, suffocating under the mountains of bodies. He closed his eyes to try and get a grip on himself, but as soon as he did, the image of Y/N falling from the sky replayed in his head. There was too much blood. She was covered in it.

"There is no one more loved by me Kaz Brekker, stubborn and unbreakable."

Her voice was the only thing Kaz was able to hear, and it felt like torture to him.

"Let me die."

The air was being sucked out of his lungs, and Kaz gripped the railing like his life depended on it.

"Please don't let me suffer."

There were footsteps around him and Kaz felt the presence of someone towering over him. He didn't even realize he was bending down, clutching at his chest, his breathing uncontrollable.

"Promise me, Kaz."

The anger grew in him rapidly. Her voice was haunting him. Kaz hated how easy it was to miss her, how he could recognize the change in her attitude just by her voice, how it took up space in his head, but most of all, he hated that the only thing he could think about in that moment was the fact that he was never going to hear her again.

"What about Death?"

"It takes more than death to get rid of me."

Kaz let out a humorless scoff. "Liar," he whispered to himself. Stubborn. Reckless. Convincing. She was probably the best liar Kaz had ever met, second only after him.

"In this life and the next."

Why couldn't it be this one? They just got married. Y/N just realized how to be herself, not despite, but with her power. Kaz was just at the beginning of his redemption. If saints and gods did exist, Kaz couldn't understand why they would let Y/N die.

Y/N died.

She was dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Y/N died. She's dead. Y/N is dead.

Dead.

At the edge of his vision Kaz glared at the sea like it was responsible for her death. Instead of blue, all he could see was red. The blood that coated her body. Blood, unfathomable amount of blood, that made it seem like she bathed in it.

How did she lose so much blood? Was there even that much in her? Kaz didn't know that much about biology or anatomy, but he knew losing so much blood was fatal.

Jesper and Inej shared concerned glances at Kaz's state. They retreated with a few steps after Kaz almost stabbed Jesper with the beak of his cane. His eyes were red, like he was holding back from crying, but despite that it seemed as if he was unaware of his surroundings. He would occasionally start to hyperventilate, only to abruptly stop and stare ahead of him, his mind being completely elsewhere.

The others didn't really know what to make of it, but Jesper and Inej, being the ones who knew him the longest outside of Y/N, they knew he was suffering internally. Kaz didn't really show his emotions, he wasn't the kind of person to express it outwardly. And for him to be so detached from reality that he didn't even hear what they were saying, for him to be completely locked inside his mind meant that he was overwhelmed. He was overwhelmed with his emotions and this was the only way he knew how to process the heavy load.

Jesper had an arm around Inej's shoulder, resting his head on top of hers. He was trying to muffle a sniffle, but Inej noticed it and looked up at him. "She's here, Jesper. She's still here with us," she tried to reassure him and Jesper looked up at the sky for a moment, sniffling.

"I just, I don't know what I would've done if she didn't make it." He let go of Inej to fidget with the rings on his fingers, hoping to ease his nerves. It didn't help.

"Nina doesn't know if she got affected by the jurda. She says she won't know anything until Y/N wakes up. I pray to the Saints she does," Inej told him and Jesper let out a weak scoff. "I think if she finds out I lost one of my guns, Y/N's going to bring herself out of a coma just to kick my ass." Jesper said it casually and it made Inej let out a soft laugh.

Kaz turned his head at the sound of their laugh. They weren't loud, their laugh was a quiet scoff at most, but still, it reached Kaz's ears. He looked at the two of them with such anger and disgust on his face, that for a second Jesper thought he was going to lash out at them.

He didn't. He kept staring back at them, and they could see the emotions change on his face. It turned from anger to detestation in mere seconds, and now both Jesper and Inej were waiting for Kaz to jump up and start a fight.

The hatred in his eyes shifted just as quickly as it appeared. It turned ito disappointment, raw and deep, and the unfiltered emotions he was showing made the guilt weigh heavy in their chest. Both of them knew how this must've looked from Kaz's view. He thought his wife was dead, and they were here, laughing, as if she was nothing to them.

"Kaz?" Jesper spoke first, trying to get a reaction from him, without triggering him to lash out. He looked back at them with the same glare, slowly getting up from the ground. His movements were predatory, and Jesper instinctively put a hand on his pistol, but with no real intention of using it.

He didn't know what to say. Kaz was standing in front of them, looking like he would burn them with his stare if he could. He took a slow step closer, the cane tapping against the floorboards with a loud click. Jesper finally understood how scary the sound of it actually was, especially in the silence. One wrong word or move, and Kaz was going to snap.

"Y/N is alive." Inej's voice was soft, but it had a firmness that made Kaz glance at her. She didn't break the eyecontact, guessing that Kaz was trying to decipher if she was lying or not. "Y/N is alive. She's injured, and Nina is taking care of her," she explained but the tension didn't leave Kaz's expression.

"She's going to be fine." Jesper added as positively as he could, despite his inner concern. Kaz seemed to be considering their words, still unsure if it was true or not. Jesper and Inej stood there, waiting for Kaz to process everything. Jesper almost let out a loud sigh of relief when the anger from Kaz's expression dissipated. He furrowed his brows as he looked back at them, utterly confused.

Poor Wylan decided to walk over to them at the wrong moment.

He was talking about what Kuwei just revealed about the jurda, and how it could affect Y/N, and the symptoms he noticed on her already. Kuwei stood next to Wylan, glancing at Kaz every two seconds, slightly scared of the way he was looking at them. He was right to feel scared, because Kaz was unusually silent. After Wylan quickly stopped talking, there was a few seconds of silence, where they were all just staring at Kaz, whose face was unreadable.

In three seconds Kaz was gripping the collar of Kuwei's shirt, slamming him down on the railing as if he was about to throw him into the sea. The beak of the crow was already at Kuwei's neck, keeping him from moving too much. His eyes were wide with terror as he looked into Kaz's violent gaze. It was like staring at a wild animal, that was ready to rip him limb from limb.

"Get off him, Kaz!" Jesper shouted and tried to get closer, but Kaz looked back at him with the same animalistic gaze and Jesper immediately stopped. He looked at Inej for help, while holding a hand out sigaling to Wylan to get behind him.

"Kaz, let him go. We need him alive." Inej managed to get to his side, ordering him sternly.

"I don't," Kaz replied, his voice lower than he realized. He loosened his grip on Kuwei, slightly lowering him over the railing. Kuwei began kicking for him to let go, but Kaz just tightened his hold on the silver crow at Kuwei's neck, drawing blood.

"He knows everything about the jurda. He could tell what side effects it might have on-," Wylan told him but he was quickly hushed by Jesper. "You've said enough already!" He ushered him further away from Kaz. Momentarily Kaz loosened his grip on the cane, glancing back where Wylan was standing. Wylan swallowed at the sight of the raw anger in Kaz's eyes.

That didn't stop him from speaking up again. Unfortunately for Wylan, he learned how to be confident at the worst possible moment. This time he really should've tried to be invisible instead of acting confident.

"Kuwei said it's still in her system, making it harder for Nina to heal her, because Y/N's shapeshifting might have made the injuries worse, than they were bef-," Before Wylan could process what was happening, Kaz had a hand around his face, forcing him to look up at him.

"Say it," Kaz seethed furiously, his hand tightening on Wylan's face, making his jaw hurt from the pressure.

"Say her name one more time Merchling, and they'll be uncovering your body for months," he whispered and Wylan tried to nod, but realized he couldn't because of the grip Kaz had on him. Kaz raised one of his brows as he loosened his grip, just enough for Wylan to nod fiercely. Kaz held him for a few more seconds before letting him go.

Four days.

Four damn days.

That's how long Kaz has been avoiding everything and everyone. Whenever one of them asked what the next step was when they got back, his reply was always the same. Stick to the original plan.

He was more like a ghost than a real person at this point. Jesper exchanged concerned looks with Inej, or Nina anytime he found Kaz staring at the horizon, unmoving. He couldn't wrap his head around why Kaz wasn't with you right now. They told him countless times that you were alive and breathing, that you did not die.

But it seemed Kaz was already convinced you were dead. In the past four days Jesper saw more emotion on Kaz than in the years he had known him. He didn't know wether to be concerned or relieved that Kaz was actually expressing what he was feeling.

He decided on the former. Kaz wasn't stable by any means. The emotions he showed weren't exactly positive. Anger, grief, irritation. These were the usual feelings he showed aside from his usual brooding mood.

They were walking on thin ice around him. Any word or movement could set him off and Kaz would take his feelings out on the object closest to him. The group hid most of the things around the ship, before even Specht decided he had enough of Kaz destroying everything.

After each crash out Kaz retreated to the side of the ship, staring out at the water for hours upon hours, once or twice even attempting to walk into the room Nina treated Y/N in. He always failed to do so. The furthest he got was two steps from the door. He couldn't find it in himself to actually look inside and see her.

He was convinced that once he looked, all he would be able to see was her corpse. Then he would realize the others were lying about her survival to keep him from going completely insane. Too late for that, he thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the fifth day Kaz finally willed himself to take those remaining two steps. The only reason he was able to do so was because everyone else was gathered around Nina, who was telling them tales from her childhood, trying to lighten everyone's spirits.

Obviously they didn't notice him slipping away from them. They didn't even know he was eavesdropping on them.

As Kaz stood in front of the door now, his couarge wavered. He would never admit it, probably not even to Y/N, but he never felt so anxious like in that moment. His hand was holding the doorknob for at least five minutes now, debating if he should enter or try again tomorrow.

What are the chances he could do this again? That there wouldn't be anyone to see him hesitate? How many more attempts have to be made before he finally steps inside?

Before he could talk himself out of it, he opened the door and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. At first, Kaz only looked around the dimly lit room, taking in the mess on the table. The first thing he focused on were the multiple clots thrown into a pile on one of the chairs. Bloody clots.

He was so focused on the blood, he didn't notice the movements on the small bed in the corner. He didn't even register the quiet noise, until a raspy voice interrupted his train of thoughts.

"Kaz?" The voice asked shakily, as if they had just woken up.

Kaz didn't turn to them immediately. He took a few seconds to pull himself together, before slowly, agonizingly slowly turned to look at the figure on the bed.

As soon as he looked into Y/N's eyes, Kaz crumbled.

He had to grab onto his cane along with the table so as not to fall to his kness. His legs trembled slightly anyways. The air was knocked from his lungs as he just... stared at her.

She was alive. She was breathing. She was here.

"Kaz?" She asked again, frowning a little when her movement caused her side to jolt in pain.

"Alive," Kaz mumbled under his breath, the words too muffled for Y/N to hear.

"What?" She asked tiredly, her voice no louder than a whisper as she kept staring back at him. Kaz leaned towards her slightly, as if he tried to step closer, but changed his mind and leaned back.

Neither of them broke the eyecontact. The silence was heavy with their unsaid words, the circumstances making it harder for either of them to say what they wanted.

"You're alive." Kaz whispered, but it felt loud in the silence. Y/N looked at him with furrowed brows at first. She looked at him with a questioning look, trying to figure out what he was thinking.

"You're alive." His words were firmer this time, as he let go of the table and took a step closer. Despite her tiredness and the pain all through her body, Y/N managed a tiny smile in the corner of her lips.

"I'm alive, koja," she whispered.

Kaz collapsed into the chair next to her bed.

A/N: If you read this far, first of all thank you and hope you liked it!

Second: here's the full wedding vow from Genya and David's wedding, edited to fit this story. It's one of my deleted scenes, where Y/N says it in Kerch, while Kaz says it in Ravkan♡

"We are soldiers. I will march with you in times of war. I will rest with you in times of peace. I will forever be the weapon in your hand, the fighter at your side, the friend who awaits your return. I have seen you change at the bottom of the world. There is no one more loved by me Kaz Brekker, stubborn and unbreakable."

[Bottom of the world=the Barrel]

[jermer10]

This might be a weird request but can you do one where you're dating the Mercenaries and you figure out your pregnant so you tell them?

TF2 mercs with a pregnant s/o

afab reader | this req wasn't weird at all! thank you op, and i apologize for it taking so long to write! <3

drabbles under the cut :P

Scout: - being the youngest of 8, he wasn't exactly aware of pregnancy signs first hand, though he had heard things from his ma and brothers - so when he noticed you had been sicker, sleeping longer, and having food aversions to things you would otherwise love, he had slowly put pieces of the puzzle together - doesn't wanna bring it up with you, he doesn't want to alarm you, and slyly implies getting a pregnancy test after he sees you vomiting for the 3rd morning that week - when he finds out, he is ecstatic!!! <33333 - would LOVE it if his kids were into baseball, definitely the playing catch in the yard kid of dad - has always been big on having a family, but can't help but also feel incredibly nervous??? - his dad was never there, would he even be a good dad? spoiler alert, he is an amazing dad

Soldier: - completely oblivious to the idea that you could be pregnant, and instead sends you to the infirmary thinking you had just eaten some bad bread - to his complete and utter shock, you came out pregnant - "honey, no, i was already pregnant..." there's no use, he doesn't care who made you pregnant, he was going to be a dad! - is already picturing your white picket fence american life together with 2.5 kids and a dog - doesn't believe in maternity leave, will try to get you onto the battlefield despite the fact that you are seven months pregnant and can barely walk (medic has to explain why you cannot, soldier is outraged) - the kind of guy who really wants a son but is blessed with a daughter instead and ends up having more in common with her - "CAN WE HAVE ANOTHER ONE?" he is so sweet like actually <333

Demoman: - demo is always sick, it comes with the alcoholism - but when you're sick? he is worried, like, extremely worried - at first he thinks it's the flu, maybe gastro? anything but what all the signs point to, please don't be pregnancy - when you show him the positive tests, he holds you and cries - he is so terrified at the idea of being a father, he's an alcoholic, he's never had to take care of anything in his life, not even himself - god, he couldn't bare having to explain the egregious duty of abandoning their child until they come of age, like his parents had done to him, and theirs to them - but, he also really wanted a family with you - he saw how happy this baby would make you, how excited you were to have one with him - when he sees his baby for the first time, he knows that he made the right choice

Heavy: - having three younger sisters, he knew what pregnancy was like - and when his father was executed, he knew he had to protect those sisters as if they were his own children - he absolutely loves the idea of having a small family with you, a peaceful life without bloodshed - so when you come to him, teary eyed, holding what looked like a pregnancy test, he didn't hesitate to embrace you in the most suffocating, loving hug he could muster - "У нас будет ребенок!" he is so incredibly happy - he treats you like royalty, spoils you so hard (as if he didn't already) - his mother and sisters knit you baby clothes!!!! <33333 - will not let anyone near you, he absolutely refuses any harm to you or your baby, if you get sick he ails your illness, if you are hurt he treats your wounds - you are the most precious thing to him, and now so is your baby

Engineer: - it wouldn't come as a surprise to him at all, as you had likely discussed having a baby and trying for one multiple times beforehand - that doesn't stop him from bawling his eyes out anyway - you hold each other for hours, happily crying and giggling about how your future together will look - designs all the baby furniture with added features to make your life easier - feeding bowls that prevent food spillage, chairs that are completely non slip, a baby cradle with an inbuilt monitor and mobile with little wooden tools and machinery - the most proactive father any child could ever want in their lives, he will drop everything to support you and this baby - invests in his kid's hobbies, shows up to every baseball game, every recital, every play

Medic: - medic's never really thought about having kids before - he could honestly live without ever having them - he's giving you a physical, when he notices some of the telltale physical pregnancy signs and decides to give you a test - oh fuck! you were pregnant! - immediate panic mode, he has no idea how to be a father! he offers multiple options for you to undergo surgery to remove it - if you are insistent on having this baby, he decides that he has no choice but to be a dad - at first he ignores this kid, i mean, he is a busy man after all and he never wanted this child in the first place - but this kid follows him EVERYWHERE, and he just cant help but adore the little guy - "ah, it was inevitable really, zhe little scamp just vouldn't leave me alone!" "you know you're allowed to love our kid, right?"

Sniper: - has never wanted kids, it wasn't you, really, he just didn't find them practical - i mean, he lives in a van?? where would you even fit a kid? and surely it wouldn't be healthy to raise one in that sort of environment - he sort of supposes that seeing you holding your baby would be cute, and he wouldn't mind having a little family someday - when you break the news to him, you look visually nervous - shaking, eyes wet and red, probably from crying before you even told him, it breaks his heart seeing you this way - when you finally ask what you should do, despite all common sense, he tells you that he wants to keep the baby - your reaction was all worth it to him - you immediately plan to upsize, looking for a small house together and moving in shortly before the baby is born - he fully comes around to the idea of a child after meeting his own

Spy: - the thought of having a kid turns him off, he is far too emotionally unavailable as it is - you know about scout, and you know the immense guilt and pain spy felt after abandoning him - so when you tell him that you're pregnant, he calmly asks you what you are going to do - he won't talk you out of having the baby, but he will not be active in his child's life whatsoever - you bet that he will, and so, he takes you up on that bet - he has no intent on leaving you despite not wanting this kid, if anything the idea of proving you wrong amuses him more - then, when you aren't around, he spends time with the kid, clothes it, feeds it, plays with it - and when you come home and see them together, it's safe to say he had lost the bet

[missnellcollins]

hello :)

i saw your request for some jeremy jorden characters, so do you think you could maybe write something for jack kelly ? there’s a jack kelly x reader shortage on tumblr 😔

it could lowkey be wtv, but if you want a prompt, maybe just bf headcanons & just stuff jack and reader get into ?

you don’t have to right anything out of your comfort zone, but i was just giving you a little blurb/headcanon idea :)

thanks! 🤍🤍

Dating Jack Kelly Headcanons

(implied female reader)

Note; I loved this so much, and if you want more headcanons, either Jack or other JerJor characters, let me know!

this man is a SIMP

S-I-M-P

will worship the ground you walk upon

jack has a rough exterior but deep down is the sweetest sweetheart you’ll ever meet

he’ll pick you flowers while selling papes because he’s gotta look out for his girl

he’ll come see you late at night and chuck pebbles at your window in hopes you’ll come out and see him

this man is very touchy 

he always has his arm around your waist, or holding your hand

BIG CUDDLER

this man gives the best cuddles ever

he’ll pull you flush against him and hold you close and kiss your head and play with your hair and is just so sweet

he’ll deny it, especially in front of the boys, but playing with his hair is his kryptonite

he’ll be exhausted and refusing to sleep, the moment you mess with his hair, he’s a goner.

he’s a soft snorer

but he says he’s not

but you know better 

he’ll tell you all about his santa fe dreams, that he’ll make a name for himself out west and you’ll come with him

he’ll discuss his dreams of a family with you; because of course he’s going to be such an amazing dad

he’ll draw you

CONSTANTLY

he especially loves drawing you when you’re asleep

because it’s the one time you look fully at peace, your head on his chest, arm resting across his torso, just so at peace with the world.

he’ll make you paper rings

anytime there’s a small slip of paper, EVERYTIME, he’ll fashion it so it’ll fit around your ring finger

and you keep every single one

big on pet names

princess is his default 

but sweetheart, sugar, and angel make occasional appearances

overall, life with jack is well… perfect; and you wouldn’t have it any other way!

[impactedfates]

Can you do imbibitor lunar! Dan heng x troublemaker! GN! Child reader? (Platonic)

Dan heng was supposed to babysit the reader but the reader is a little bit a trouble maker.. The reader has a soft spot for Dan heng lololo

A/N: Hihi :D I’ve returned!! Sorry for leaving for so long, but I should be able to get back to writing!! Requests are still closed for now, once all my current requests are finished and maybe some short fics and/or scenarios are written I'll open them up again. Thank you anon for the request!! And thank you for being patient with me to write this, I hope you'll enjoy this :>>

W.C: 1692

Warnings: None (I hope - Not fully proofread but I’ll fix anything once I’m back from school Ü)

Extra: Dan Heng is in his Vidyadhara form // Child reader so ofc is younger and shorter then most characters // Trailblazer is whoever you want it to be lol // Reader has been babysat for awhile by the Express (specifically Dan Heng) but now lives with the express in the fic

“[Name]!! Get down from that…NO DON’T J U M P”

March let out a small groan as she ran and stopped you from trying to jump off the fridge. She sighed and shook her head at you.

“Just what would Dan Heng think about this”

You stook out your tongue at the tired girl as she carefully put you down. Shaking her head. You were a new member of the Express family, Dan Heng had found you hiding when he was walking around Scalegorge Waterscape. And you seemed to cling to him, always hugging his tail. He doesn’t say no to it but he is surprised you seem to like him so much.

The Express like you as well!...Expect you seem to only like Dan Heng…especially when he’s in his Imbibitor Lunae form, not to say you don’t like him when he’s in his regular form, but you seem a LOT more attached when he lets you cling onto his tail.

It’s obvious to all the express (except Dan Heng it would seem) that you won’t listen to anyone but him, and on one hand it can be cute, on the other hand…it can be painful.

“[Name] All I said was that you couldn’t eat ice-cream for breakfast…it is not healthy whatsoever!”

March explained, puffing her cheeks, though maybe she shouldn’t say anything as she herself tried eating ice-cream for breakfast.

“Who’s trying to eat ice-cream for breakfast?”

A tired voice came, as Dan Heng came walking in, rubbing his eyes as he had just woken from sleep, his long hair tied back. After you joined he seemed to be in this form more often, for different reasons, one of them being you refused to sleep unless his tail was your blanket.

“[Name] is! Dan Heng tell them they cannot have it, and we’re saving it for tonight!!”

“[Name], Himeko bought them so we can have them to eat for movie night later tonight…plus having ice-cream for breakfast isn’t healthy y’know”

Dan Heng spoke gently, crouching down to your level, March stood behind him with a victorious grin. She knew you wouldn’t be able to say no to him…and she was right, you pouted a bit and looked away, crossing your arms, mumbling out an annoyed and reluctant.

“Fine.”

.

.

.

“[Name] sweetheart, please give that ba-”

*C R A S H*

Yet another mug belonging to Himeko broke right in front of her eyes. She silently mourned the mug, taking a small deep breath and looked at you.

“Y’know…your auntie Himeko liked that mug a lot sweetie…”

She spoke, gesturing to herself, but you simply stook out your tongue at her, about to reach over and knock over ANOTHER mug, this time belonging to Welt. Himeko was quick to swoop you away from it and caught the mug from making another loud noise. She placed it on a higher shelf, away from your reach even if you climbed and despite your thrashing, moved you on the Express couch.

“I heard a loud crash, is everything alright?”

Dan Heng called out, walking in, spotting the broken mug on the floor, his eyes softened and looked at Himeko apologetically. 

“That was your favourite mug…wasn’t it?”

“Yep…”

She sighed, shaking her head disappointedly. Dan Heng was quick to grab a broom and start cleaning the broken shards, Himeko smiled at his gesture and began ruffling his head as if he was a child.

“Himeko…”

*C R A S H*

Himeko froze and her head snapped towards the source of the sound, the direction of your very own bedroom. You had seemingly left quickly when Dan Heng and Himeko were chatting and now you seemed to have broken yet another thing, you came waltzing in with a bunch of credits in your hand, lifting them up to Himeko, and with puppy eyes said.

“I’m sorry auntie, here. You can buy another one!”

Himeko smiled softly at you and shook her head, carefully taking the credits from your hand. Although you probably only ran to your piggy bank (assuming that’s what you broke for the credits) because Dan Heng entered, she could tell you did feel sorry upon hearing it was her favourite mug.

“It’s okay sweetie…just…try not to do it again”

You smiled and nodded. Promising her you won’t do it again…if you couldn’t actually keep that promise, she wasn’t sure. And she was sure you weren’t sure either but. She’d forgive you again in a heartbeat if she’s being honest.

.

.

.

Welt stared blankly at your wall, the wall that had now been decorated with some of his artwork…his artwork that had been torn up and collaged up without his permission. 

“[Name]...what…is this?”

He spoke, pushing up his glasses as he closed as his eyes narrowed, darting at each page, clearly with a rip. Though he will admit that the collage…was pretty nice. Just…he wished it wasn’t from one of his sketchbooks, old or not.

“Art”

You said proudly, and sure…you weren’t technically wrong. Welt simply sighed and shook his head, crouching down to your level and carefully explained to you that you shouldn’t take things without people's permission. It isn’t nice.

You tilted your head and grinned, before grabbing his sketch book from your bed, looking him straight in the eye…you did ask but you did it while…ripping the page in the process. Welt could only pinch his nose in slight irritation…until the door to your door opened and his sketchbook was thrown behind your bed as you looked at whoever entered innocently.

“Big Brother! Look what I made”

“Huh? Oh…looks nice [Name]”

Dan Heng spoke, his eyes looking at the wall before it noticed Welt, he turned to face you with a concerned expression.

“Did you…ask Mr Welt if you could use his things?”

“Well no…”

“[Name], next time ask, Mr Welt really treasures his drawings”

You simply nodded with a small pout, honestly you thought it was an old sketchbook Welt didn’t care about…but hey. You still got a compliment from Dan Heng right? Welt could only hope you’d listen now that Dan Heng told you.

.

.

.

“Did you both really just go hunting in trash?”

Dan Hen asked with a deadpan, looking at you and the trailblazer, now filthy. You giggled a bit, scratching the back of your head. As the trailblazer was quick to defend themselves.

“THIS TIME…this time it wasn’t me, believe me. This one right here jumped into the dumpster first, so I jumped in to get them. Then I tried to catch them but they kept…SWIMMING?? Around in the piles of trash…wait can you swim in trash?”

The Vidyadhara put up his hand to silence the grey haired trailblazer, before his eyes glanced at you. Raising an eyebrow, he silently asked if this was true to which you…slowly nodded again, embarrassed. He sighed a bit and rubbed his temples, he was still calm. He simply pointed in the direction of the bathrooms.

“You two, bathe. Now.”

“But-”

“N o w.”

.

.

.

Movie Night! Finally, nothing bad happens. Perhaps that was due to Dan Heng managing to keep you calm and quiet with just his presence. But no one complains, everyones happy enough.

Everyone goes to their own room after they finish up so they could go to bed and get ready for the next mission, but they seem to find something in their room, a gift it would seem?

March's eyes widened a bit as she looked at the new camera that was decorated too! With her family, and a small note near it, reading

‘Thank you big sister!! I know you like photos right? Dan Heng helped me buy this for you, I hope you like it’

March squealed a bit and hugged the camera, thanking you a million times in her head.

Himeko’s eyes landed on an (albeit badly) made mug, decorated with various shades of her favourite colours and writing that she knew instantly was yours.

‘Best Auntie Ever!’

Perhaps she found her new favourite mug already…now for some coffee to pour into it.

Welt flicked through the pages of the new sketch book, only one drawing was made, at the front cover. He recognized your art style and smiled softly as he saw the mini doodles of the Express family and a very angry Pompom.

He grabbed a pencil and began sketching on the first page.

The Trailblazer lifted up the small trash bin pin, they could till it was custom made…I mean who would sell bins of them peaking out a bin?...

But they didn’t care, it was cute. They knew exactly who got it for them too. Carefully they pinned it on their jacket.

Yes you could be a pain for them sometimes, especially if Dan Heng wasn’t there to settle you. But they all cared for you, and just these gifts alone told them that you indeed also cared for them.

.

.

.

“But you helped me with buying them all and writing the words”

You grumbled, crossing your arms as the raven hair tucked you into bed.

“And you were the one who decided AND knew what to get them, additionally it was also your idea”

He speaks, a soft smile painting his lips. He always knew how troublesome you were, from the day he began babysitting you to the day you were allowed to actually live on the express. He knew you only really behaved around him and with the others well, your ‘true colours’ would appear. 

It was the others who thought he didn’t know you had a soft spot for him due to him calmly telling you to stop things then going on about his day, but he just knew that all it would take is a few words and you’d do it.

 But he also knew you still cared for the rest of your family. Although sure, you had your favourites, you had the one you were most soft for…that won’t change the love and care you have for your other family members. But uh perhaps you should show it a bit better…still though

They were your family.

And you were their family.

Neither of you would change that.

It didn't occur to me until after writing this that the anon could've meant Imbibitor Lunae Dan Heng like Dan Feng, also I didn't exactly write babysitting (I mentioned it) but I wrote it more so as the reader living with the Express family. To the anon who requested this I'm so sorry if I messed it up ‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥)‧º·

[loudstan]

hiii i was wondering if you would be down to do a small drabble based on that part where soobin had managed to pull yn out of the circle but with a twist? taeyong did not manage to arrive in time causing him to take advantage of her? i mean, let's be honest she would probably allow it, it's soobin after all

joke's on you because I have wanted to write this for a long time! So let's do it right now!

Warnings: manipulative soobin, cheating, dubious, not a happy ending.

You let out an exhausted sigh.

“Soobin,” you said when his grasp on your arms tightened. “let me go.”

For a few seconds, he only stared back into your eyes. 

“No,” he finally murmured, sneaking his arms around your waist and pulling you even closer.

“I’m not in the mood for your jokes,” you warned him, squirming in his arms.

“Good, because I am not joking.”

“You can’t–”

“Can’t I?” he purred. With a rapid movement, he had you with your back pushed on the wet grass, hovering over you. “Silly little human,” he teased. “Look at the time.”

Your heart stopped when you noticed the faint moonlight illuminating the fae prince’s fair skin. It was way past dusk.

You gulped. “S-soobin, please–,” your voice broke when you felt his fingertips caress your face. “Don’t hurt m-me,” you begged.

“Hurt you?” he echoed. “You know that is not what I want,” he trailed off when his thumb made contact with your lower lip.

Realizing what he was referring to, you turned your head to the side, breaking free from his touch. “Don’t– Soobin, please, we’re friends!”

He grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him again. “Friends…,” he scoffed like you had just insulted him. “Do you let all your friends court you?”

“I never–When d-did I–” you stuttered.

Soobin raised his eyebrows. “For someone who is writing a book about faes, you know absolutely nothing about us,” he sighed, using his free hand to reach for one of the berries that were scattered on the grass. “These are the sweetest berries you can find. I picked them myself,” he said casually, placing it over your lips. “Did you think I kept bringing them  to you because I am a good neighbor?” 

You were about to reply that that was exactly what you thought when he pushed the small fruit past your lips. True to what he had said, it was incredibly sweet, but now that you were aware of the implications of his gift you knew you shouldn’t accept it. So you spit it out. 

His expression remained calm, but the slight twitch in his eye told you he didn’t appreciate the attitude you were giving him. He pretended he didn’t feel you squirming under him to get free, as he unhurriedly grabbed another fruit and offered it to you.

You kept your lips sealed and scratched his arms stubbornly. He was equally, if not more stubborn, and he kept trying to feed you no matter how hard you made it for him. 

“WHY?!” He finally snapped after the 10th wasted berry. “You have been enjoying my courting for weeks! Why refuse now?!”

You stilled at his outburst. You had never seen him lose composure like this. He was panting heavily on top of you, his brows furrowed in anger and confusion. He looked so…human.

“I have never met someone as insolent and infuriating as you!” he continued. “Do you not understand the position you are in?! I reign over the entire forest and every single creature that inhabits it. That includes you. I own you!”

“P-please–” you tried to speak but you started sobbing quietly.

“Shh…,” he tried to soothe you, immediately regretting the way he had spoken to you. What was it about you that kept making him lose his cool? “I apologize,” he whispered, resting his forehead on yours and wiping your tears away gently. “That was very uncivil of me. No more tears, Y/N, please,” he begged you. 

“Y-you have to let m-me go…,” you insisted.

He shook his head urgently. “No,” he whispered, kissing your tear-stained cheeks. “Anything but that.”

“But–...T-taeyong–” 

“Does not deserve you,” Soobin growled against your lips. “Keeps disappearing and leaving you all alone. He makes you sad, Y/N.”

“No–” your protest was interrupted by the prince’s soft lips pressed firmly against yours. He moved his lips softly, but his hand on your jaw held your head tightly. He took advantage of your surprised gasp to lick and taste every corner of your mouth, moaning at the realization that he was finally tasting you. And you tasted better than he imagined.

A loud noise took him out of his daze and he quickly lifted his head to search for the possible threat. The last thing he needed was alpha showing up. Not that he would give you up now that he had finally had a taste of you. 

But there was nobody out there. 

He tilted his head and then he felt a slight tingle on his left cheek. 

He turned to look at you and saw you holding your right hand and wincing. Your palm was reddened. 

His own hand reached for his cheek as his lips curled into a wicked smirk. You had slapped the fae prince. 

“Did you really think a weak human could harm an immortal?” he asked you incredulously. 

“I… I just w-wanted you to s-stop—”

“Do not lie to me,” he warned you.

“I’m not–”

“You know I can feel everything you feel,” he reminded you, caressing your face lovingly. “I can feel your guilt, your fear… but you do not feel repulsed by me.”

You tensed and blushed.

“And now you are embarrassed,” he continued, chuckling and kissing your neck. “Oh, you love it right here,” he sighed, nibbling on a spot of your neck that had you gasping. “You exude such intense desire when I do this…” he breathed out shakily.

“Soobin–...” you whined, trying to push him away by pulling his hair. “I r-really c-can’t…”

“Y/N…” he whispered, rutting his hips experimentally and savoring the pleasure that consumed your body. “I can feel how much you enjoy this. Let go…” he meant for it to be a command, but he was practically begging you.

He could easily feed off this for eternity. He planned to.

But you were being so unnecessarily difficult. He was giving you what your boyfriend refused to give you and you were enjoying it. So, why were you rejecting him? Because you felt guilty? Because you were confused? Because you loved that bastard?

He felt a pang of jealousy and decided to try a different approach.

“This is your f-fault, you know?” he continued, trying to keep his voice even as he rocked his hips and you gave him the cutest little noises in response. “You have been so miserable these days…all you have been feeding me are gloomy feelings,” he pouted.

“I–,” you breathed out, biting your lip when he pressed his hips against yours harder.

“I spent all my afternoons here with you,” he taunted. "All to help you write your book, but you only give me insipid negative energy in return…”

“I d-didn’t mean–…” 

“I’m starving, Y/N,” he growled, suddenly stilling and looking into your eyes. “You did this to me.”

You gasped for air and pressed your legs together, embarrassed at the stickiness between your legs. You were horny and embarrassed.

“I’m s-so sorry,” you whimpered.

“Then do something about it,” he commanded. “Feed me something appetizing.”

You gulped. “T-tomorrow–”

“Now.”

“I…I can’t just feel good out of n-nowhere,” you complained.

He scoffed. “Useless human. I have to do everything myself,” he muttered, unbuttoning your blouse and pretending to be annoyed.

“Soobin!” you objected grabbing his hands nervously. 

He glared at you. He wasn’t actually mad at you. He wanted to hug you and tell you that he didn’t think you were useless, that you were the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, and that he would take care of you better than your stupid boyfriend. He wanted to treat you gently. But right now he had to stay in character. You were so close to giving in.

“We had a deal, Y/N,” he reminded you.  He omitted that he had never specified what type of emotions you were supposed to give him in exchange for his help these past weeks. You had honored the deal by letting him feed off whatever you were feeling in those moments. 

But he was hoping you were too lust-drunk and remorseful to notice.

“I know,...I’m s-sorry,” you whispered as another tear slid down your face.

He fought back a victorious smirk. “I will make it good for you,” he promised, kissing your chest and caressing your trembling body. 

You felt terrible for not listening to your boyfriend when he told you to stay away from Soobin. You felt remorseful for taking so much time from Soobin without giving him anything in return. 

But what was worse was that you liked Soobin’s touch. How could you be such a terrible girlfriend?

“What you feel is natural, Y/N,” Soobin suddenly said, sensing your guilt. “You are loyal to a man who does not tend to your needs. Your body needs this,” he assured you, massaging your breasts gently.

You covered your face with your hands and Soobin chuckled.

“W-will you–,” you gulped nervously, feeling his lips traveling further down. “Will you l-let me go when you are satisfied?”

“Of course,” he mumbled, kissing your navel and making you shiver. 

He would let you go when he was satisfied. Which would be never.

“A-and I can go home after?” you asked while he pulled down your shorts

He paused and looked at your conflicted face. He kissed your thighs lovingly and, as usual, chose his words very carefully.

“You will go home,” he declared before diving in.

He never said whose home.

[rayaswrittings]

Fuel to the fire

Rafe Cameron x Fem!Sisters bsf!Character

Synopsis: Lennon Thornton grew up on figure eight, her family well known and business partners with the Cameron’s. She spent most of her life around the golden family, hating the kook lifestyle she lived, hating what her best friends family became. But what happens when one night, Rafe is tasked by her parents to ‘babysit’ her because they were away for the weekend? Tannyhill was empty—and it certainly wasn’t planned.

PSA: This is a snippet of my fanfic I’m writing on wattpad right now of JJ Maybank… I know, ironic :/ that being said, this is in her pov, butttt it’s been awhile since I wrote so I wanted to publish a snippet to see if anyone actually liked it haha

Warning(s): 18+ only! Minors DNI, Mean!Rafe, unprotected p in v, creampie, etc. Mature themes, Language, the whole nine. Also very long! Apologies for mistakes :/

ᨦㅤ۫ㅤ୧‿︵‿ㅤ𑁍ㅤ‿︵‿୨ㅤ۪ㅤദㅤㅤׂ

"Rafe," I breathed, the need for him nearly choking me. I wanted to say something else, but the words felt stuck in my throat. I couldn't form sentences. My whole body was attuned to him now, every fiber of my being aware of the way he was manipulating me, the way he was pulling me into a place I wasn't sure I could leave.

"Shh," he said, his lips brushing against the back of my neck, making me shiver. "I’ve got you."

I barely registered the movement before he was inside me again, filling me up completely. My body arched into the counter as he thrust forward, making me gasp at the suddenness, the force of it.

The stretch was almost too much, but then the pace settled, and the rhythm was brutal, just the way I needed it.

His hands stayed firm on my hips, guiding me, making sure I felt every inch of him as he moved deeper, harder, faster. "God, you're perfect like this," he murmured, his voice a raspy growl. "Just what I needed. Who knew my sisters best friend was such a slut?"

I couldn't form a reply, but I didn't need to.

My body was telling him everything he wanted to know. I pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the kitchen, only adding to the heat between us. It was raw.

It was desperate. And all I could think about was him, the feeling of him inside me, moving with such purpose that I couldn't focus on anything else.

"Don't hold back," he growled in my ear, his voice thick with desire. "Let go again. I want to hear you, baby. Wanna hear how I’m fucking you."

Rafe's pace never slows. Each thrust feels like a direct hit, deep and powerful, making the counter press hard against my body. I try to hold on, my fingers gripping the edge of it as if it could ground me. But the way he moves, relentless and demanding, leaves me breathless and wanting more.

I can feel him everywhere, and it's almost like I can't escape the pull of him-how he's taking me, using me, and yet I still want to test him. I bite my lip, feeling the way my body reacts, but I refuse to let him think he's got me all figured out.

"C'mon," I tease, trying to keep it light, but my voice comes out breathy. I push my hips back against him, feeling the weight of him as he buries deeper. “Is this all you've got, Rafe?"

He groans behind me, his hands tightening on my hips, digging into my skin as he jerks me harder against him.

"You don't want me to show you everything I've got, sweetheart," he mutters, his voice strained, but there's no stopping him. "Quit being a brat."

I try to keep my balance, keeping up with his rhythm even as it pushes me closer to the edge, but I can't help it. I want to get under his skin, just like I always do. "Yeah, but I thought you liked when I made it harder for you," I taunt, my voice teasing and laced with challenge.

He doesn't respond with words. Instead, he grabs my wrist, pulling it behind my back with a sudden force that makes me gasp. It's almost too much, but I can't help but push back again, meeting him thrust for thrust, feeling the friction between us in a way that drives me crazy.

But Rafe's patience is worn thin. Without warning, he covers my mouth with his hand, the warmth of his palm suffocating me in the best way. My eyes widen, my pulse spiking, but it only heightens the sensation.

"Shut up," he growls, his voice low and commanding in my ear, a sound I don't think I'll ever get tired of. "You're gonna keep quiet now, understood? Don't wanna hear a fucking word from you. You've been talking enough."

I try to fight it, but it's like he knows me too well. His hand keeps my mouth sealed as he continues to drive into me, making it impossible to even think straight. The only thing I can focus on is the sensation, how he feels inside me, how relentless he is, and the ache of not being able to tease him back the way I want to.

I let out a muffled moan, frustration building, my mind buzzing with every thrust. I want to challenge him again, to push him to snap, but instead, I feel my body surrendering to the rhythm, helpless against it. The fact that I can't speak only makes it worse, more intense.

Rate's breathing is erratic now, the sound of skin on skin filling the space around us.

He slows for a second, like he's letting me breathe, but only long enough to make sure I feel the desperation in his movements. "You like this, huh?" he mutters, like he already knows the answer. “Like when I fuck you rough like this? Like the slut you secretly are?”

I try to nod, but his hand doesn't move, so l just whimper against it. My body is responding to him whether I want it to or not, and there's no escaping the heat building between us. He pulls me back into him, his grip tightening as he takes what he wants, making sure I'm completely at his mercy.

"Such a dirty girl…" he continues, his voice growing rougher with every word. "You think I don't notice how you're shaking? How desperate you are? I can feel it."

I'm dizzy, spinning with the intensity of it all, my entire body alive and buzzing with want. I try to fight it, but I can't. He's right, he knows exactly what he's doing, and my body can't do anything but respond.

He doesn't let up. He doesn't stop. And at this point, I don't even want him to. It's like everything in me is screaming to let go, but all I can do is take it, be at the mercy of his control, while he works me into a frenzy.

The heat between us was relentless, and each movement only seemed to build that burning tension. His hands were firm on my waist, guiding me as he pressed his body closer to mine. The sounds, the weight of him, everything felt overwhelming in the best way.

My breath hitched with every push, every movement, and I couldn't stop myself from reacting. I had tried so hard to keep quiet, but the pleasure was too much, and the sounds I was making were impossible to control.

"God, you're so loud," Rafe teased, his voice low, sending a thrill down my spine. He loved it—could feel how desperate I was to stay quiet, to keep my composure.

But he wasn't going to let me. He made sure I knew that, pulling me back against his chest, his body pressed flush against mine. His breath fanned against my shoulder, and I felt a chill run through me despite the heat.

His hands moved up to my neck, just enough to hold me steady, but it felt like he was grounding me in a way that made everything sharper, more intense. I reached back, my fingers digging into his neck as I tried to steady myself. My body was trembling with the pressure, but I couldn't stop it. I couldn't stop him.

"Don't fight it," he murmured into my ear, his voice rough as he continued his relentless rhythm. "You're not gonna keep it together much longer, are you?"

His words sent a surge of heat through me, and I shook my head, too lost in the moment to speak. I couldn't deny how much it felt like a release, like a punishment, but one that was just what l needed. The way he had me trembling, my body clinging to his, it was like everything we'd been holding back was coming to the surface. Years of tension, years of pushing and pulling-finally unraveled, all in one.

I could feel the tension building, every second feeling like an eternity. Rafe's rhythm hadn't slowed, and with each thrust, it felt like he was pulling me further into the chaos of it all. He was relentless, and I could feel myself on the edge.

I was too lost in him.

"Rafe..." My voice trembled as I said his name, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

His breath caught, and I could hear the satisfaction in his voice as he chuckled darkly. "Damn right," he growled, tightening his hold on me. "Keep saying my name. Feels so good when you do that."

The sound of his voice made my stomach twist, and the heat between us only intensified. He wasn't letting up, pushing me further, testing my limits. It felt like a punishment-but in the best way. The years of tension, of wanting, of teasing and avoiding, all seemed to collapse into this one moment.

His pace never faltered, and as I felt myself getting closer, I knew he wasn't going to give me the chance to escape it. I wasn't sure if he wanted to see me unravel as much as I needed to fall apart in his arms.

I didn't even hesitate this time. "Rafe," | gasped, feeling my body shake from the pressure. "I’m—“

"Yeah," he interrupted, almost smug. "I know. You want it, don't you? You need it, just like I do. You've been waiting for this as much as I have."

I could barely breathe, the sensation of him inside me, the way he moved, was overwhelming. I was so close now, and I could feel the wave building. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before-this connection, the rawness of it all.

His words were sharp, teasing, and they made me shiver. He was right in a way— couldn't deny the way he had me twisted up, how he made me feel things I hadn't even known I was capable of. But the way he said it, like it was all some kind of sick victory, only drove me mad.

Rafe's pace picked up again, quicker and harder, and the friction was becoming almost too much to handle. I could feel myself getting lost in it, my breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. I gripped his shoulders tighter, needing something to hold on to as everything around me seemed to blur.

"Can't keep quiet now, can you?" he murmured, his voice low and dripping with satisfaction. I could hear the smirk in his words, and it drove me mad.

My body felt like it was on fire, the pressure building with each thrust. I couldn't help it—l kept moaning, calling his name, unable to keep the words in. I was past the point of no return.

"Good girl," he growled, his hands firm on my waist as he pushed me further into the motion. "Keep talking. I want to hear it all."

I felt a pulse of heat rush through me at his praise, and I couldn't stop the words that spilled out. "Rafe, I-" My voice caught in my throat as I gasped again. "I can't... I need-"

"You need what?" he teased, voice still rough, but with that edge of control. He was still relentless, pushing me closer, but never giving me that release I so badly craved.

"I need you," I managed to get out, almost choking on the words. "Please, Rafe..."

A satisfied chuckle rumbled through him, and I could feel the way his chest pressed against my back as he leaned into me, just enough to send a new wave of pleasure coursing through me. "That's right," he murmured in my ear. "You need me, and I'm giving it to you. You want to fall apart, don't you? Want me to make you come undone?"

I couldn't form words anymore; it was just sounds-little whimpers and gasps that slipped from my lips with each relentless thrust. He was pushing me closer, bringing us both to the edge, and the only thing ! could focus on was the way my body was reacting, how he was making me feel in a way I didn't even know I could.

The world felt like it was collapsing in on itself, and I couldn't breathe, couldn't think—only feel. His hands were everywhere, pulling me closer, guiding me, pushing me further. The rhythm of his movements was steady, but it was starting to break apart the walls l'd built around myself. I felt like I was on the edge of something dangerous, something I couldn't stop.

His voice came low and steady, a command, a tease, a promise. "Beg for it," he said, his breath hot against my skin. "I want to hear you."

I could barely form words, my body already trembling with the anticipation. The need was all-consuming, and it felt like everything inside me was winding tighter, closer to something I couldn't control. His hands tightened around me as if he was keeping me from falling apart. And maybe I was-falling, unraveling-into something that was too much, but not enough.

"Please," I gasped, my voice shaky, the word slipping from my lips before I could stop it. "I'm so close," I whispered, barely able to speak over the pounding in my chest. "I need you. Please, don't stop now."

And then he pushed harder, faster, and I couldn't think anymore. All that existed was him, this, the feeling of him in me, moving me closer and closer to the edge. I couldn't hold back anymore. My hands grabbed onto him, pulling him to me as I begged for it-his name, his touch, everything.

"I'm gonna make you come with me," he murmured, his voice rough as he spoke in between breaths. "Be a good girl and let me hear you, baby”

I felt myself nearing that point again, that overwhelming rush, and I couldn't hold it in any longer. "Rafe, I-" I gasped, unable to finish my sentence. But he didn't need me to.

"Come on, sweetheart," he coaxed, and then, as if to prove his point, he surged against me, pushing us both over the edge. The world went white, and the sound of our breath, our skin meeting, filled the air. I clung to him as the waves hit, my body trembling in his arms.

The sound of us-our breaths, the movement, the subtle creaks of the floor beneath us-filled the space. Everything else faded. There was only him, and only me, and it felt like everything was about to come crashing down in the best possible way.

"Don't stop, please don't stop..." My words were broken, gasps slipping between them, but the need was undeniable. “I’m coming, I—“

His voice was a low rasp as he spoke again, urging me closer. "Right behind you—fuck, Len. Come on, baby. Come for me”

It was the final push, the last words that did it. My entire body tensed, and the rush of everything came at once. The sound of my breath, so loud against the quiet, filled my ears. We both fell apart in each others embrace, his cock buried so deep inside me. His hands held me close, pulling me in, and the world around me seemed to dissolve. There was just him, his presence, and the way we collided.

In those moments, I could feel everything.

Possession. Release. Tension that had built up for longer than either of us could comprehend. I didn't know if I would ever be able to describe it.

He held me firmly against him, and I could feel his heartbeat, steady but frantic, just like mine. His head dropped to my shoulder, and I could hear him breathe my name like it meant something. The space between us felt like nothing, like we were connected in ways I didn't have words for.

We stayed there for a while, just holding each other, breathing, trying to calm ourselves. But the electric buzz of everything we had just shared lingered in the air between us.

I was still pressed against him, my body heavy with exhaustion. Every breath I took was like an effort, but the tension in my chest wasn't gone-not yet. It wasn't the sweet kind of relief that left me feeling soft or content. No, it was just a damn good release, and we both knew that.

Rafe's hand slid down my neck, his fingers brushing over my skin before he gripped me, pulling me back just enough to look at me. His gaze was steady-no sweetness, no warmth-just that cocky, familiar smirk.

"Not bad for a girl who talks all that shit," he said, his voice rough, but there was a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, like he had won some game we hadn't even agreed to play. His thumb brushed against my throat before he let go and kissed me, rough and unapologetic, pulling away just as quickly. “I figured you'd be quiet for once, but... guess not."

I didn't respond. I couldn't. I was too tired to argue, too tired to even care about his words. But he didn't let it go. He kept talking, his fingers still trailing lightly along my neck, his grip surprisingly gentle for someone like him.

"You're lucky l'm not just gonna toss you off me," he muttered, a laugh catching in his throat. "You know, I could've left you there. Let you get all embarrassed and-"

"Shut up," | whispered, my voice barely audible. The words felt thick and tired, but I couldn't stop myself from saying them. I didn't want to hear any more of his teasing, not when I was still trying to keep it together, not when every part of me just wanted to sleep.

I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of the silence between us. The exhaustion felt like a heavy blanket, pressing down on my body, but it didn't stop the thoughts from swirling in my mind. It didn't stop the sting of what had just happened, or the bitter taste of his words that still echoed in my head. Rafe Cameron was an asshole-always had been, always would be. He wasn't some knight in shining armor, no matter how much he liked to pretend.

But still, here we were. Wrapped up in a mess of frustration and tension, and now... this. The quiet aftermath.

I wasn't sure how I felt. Confused, tired, maybe even a little broken. But one thing was clear: this was a one-time thing. It didn't change anything. It couldn't. I'd never had feelings for Rafe-—never would— and I was fine with that. It was good sex, and that's all it was. A relief. Nothing more.

I let my head fall back against his chest, letting out a deep breath. The sound of his heartbeat beneath me was steady, and for a moment, l allowed myself to just focus on that. It was quiet, almost peaceful, in its own fucked-up way. But I knew better than to let myself slip into that false sense of comfort. Rafe wasn't someone you let get too close, even if his presence still lingered after everything.

"I guess we're done here," I muttered, keeping my voice steady, even though I wasn't sure if I believed it. "No need to tell anyone about this."

Rafe's hand gently caressed the back of my neck, his fingers light but still assertive.

His voice, when it came, was almost too calm. "You don't have to worry about that, Lennon. I don't kiss and tell. But let's be clear-you keep your distance, and I'll do the same. This was... just a way to get the shit out of our systems. Got it?"

I didn't answer right away. I didn't need to.

We both knew the deal.

"Yeah, got it," I finally muttered, my voice low, my body sinking deeper into the tiredness that pulled me. Rafe shifted slightly, his breath warm against my ear as he spoke one last time.

"Good. Don't think for a second this changes anything. You're still a pain in my ass, and I'm still the asshole you've always known." He paused, his lips brushing against my ear. "But I'll make sure you get home safe. Don't get any ideas, though. This was a one-time thing."

I scoffed, but there was no fight left in me.

"Yeah, don't worry, Rafe. I'm not looking for a repeat performance," I said, finally pulling away and trying to collect myself.