#i wrote this in the drafts instead of my notes app

[ssongsboo]

thinking about.... eunsang + fingering / eating pussy...

no bc youre so real for this hes so yummy 😵‍💫😵‍💫

hed def tease you over your wet panties after a particularly heated make out session tbh he needs you to beg for him before he even thinks abt touching you properly. hands wandering all around your body, wanting to take in every tiniest bit of you before he gently guides you into a comfortable positition. after that he wastes no time and just lets his tongue work wonders on you, stroking your thighs in the meantime. when he feels that youre getting close he switches to use his fingers instead, he wants to be able to see all of your tiniest reactions to him making you feel good. whispering compliments and praises in between sweet little kisses. def the type of guy to hold the most intense eye contact w you when he licks your release off his fingers.

[redr0sewrites]

1.2k words into the jason todd soulmate au fic and uh. he hasn't even appeared yet. this is gonna be a doozy

[movietonight]

Last Line Challenge Part 2 - Fic Edition

Tagged by @youngpettyqueen

rules: post the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words (or however many you like).

There are some barriers to starting an argument: His sister’s pleading expression and, more importantly, Charles lacking the vocabulary and grammar to make his case. “I will not grade your conversations, but I will expect you to attend.” That is the end of the argument.

[kxsagi]

may I ask for blue lock characters headcanons on how they would propose to the reader if they have been together for more than 5 years? you can add anyone you like but this is for my one and only glorious supreme king isagi yoichi.

THANK YOU

“𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧”

a/n: i might like writing proposals more than fluff (i also have an isagi proposal fic i wrote here and i still love it sm)

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, bachira meguru, kaiser michael, mikage reo, nagi seishiro

isagi yoichi

he’s been thinking about it for months. writing drafts in his notes app. texting rin for help and getting roasted. pacing the training room during breaks muttering, “what if she says no?” even though you’ve been his person for five whole years. 

when he finally does it, it’s quiet. domestic. intimate. just you and him on a sunday morning. he makes you breakfast with heart-shaped pancakes (they’re wonky, but endearing), and insists you stay in bed. when he brings the tray over, there’s a little folded napkin next to your juice. you open it and it reads: “marry me?” in his handwriting, complete with a nervous smiley face. 

you look up and he’s on one knee holding a ring with trembling hands, eyes glassy, voice cracking when he says, “i want to be with you forever. through every win, every loss. just… us.” 

he fumbles the ring, panics, catches it mid-air. cries when you say yes. you end up lying on the floor laughing with him, tangled in blankets and feelings. 

won’t shut up about how he bagged the love of his life. reposts his own engagement post three times. 

itoshi rin

takes 7 business days to say “i love you,” so proposing is the olympics of stress for him. 

he keeps the ring in his pocket for weeks. but every time he tries to do it, something throws him off. you burp mid-dinner. you wear his hoodie. you beat him at mario kart. it’s too much. he short circuits. 

finally proposes when you’re brushing your teeth together at night, and he’s looking at your face in the mirror like, this is it. this is what peace feels like. 

mutters, “marry me,” like he’s asking if you want takeout. then freezes. stares at your reflection. 

when you ask, “wait, for real?” he just nods and pulls out the ring from his hoodie pocket. he’s literally shaking. 

later pretends he had a whole speech of “i know i’m not good with words. but being with you makes life feel… less heavy. you make things better. you make me better. so please stay with me. forever,” but forgot it. he did not say that. he ended up saying: “u cool. marry me.” 

itoshi sae

it takes him years to admit he wants to marry you. not because he doubts it (he's known since day two), but because he's scared. terrified, even. of needing someone that deeply. of showing that part of himself. 

he doesn’t want something loud or flashy. instead, he books a quiet trip to a secluded coastal town in spain. it’s the off-season, the weather's breezy, and you spend the whole day exploring sleepy streets, eating gelato, watching the boats drift lazily in the harbor. 

at the end of the day, he takes you to a rocky overlook at sunset. the water’s glowing. the sky is all peach and gold. 

and then he hands you a little notebook. every page is dated. he’s been writing you letters for five years. 

entries from after matches, on planes, in hotel rooms. thoughts he never said out loud. memories. fears. the way his chest tightens every time he looks at you. how your laugh sounds when you’re brushing your teeth. how the world softens when you're near. 

the final page just says: “i don’t want to be brilliant without you. will you marry me?” 

you look up and he’s already kneeling, lips pressed into a line like he’s holding back a million emotions. 

“i know i’m difficult. i know i get quiet. but you’re the one thing i’m sure of. please say yes.” 

and when you do, his hands shake. his breath catches. he presses his forehead to yours, and for the first time in a long time, sae itoshi lets himself cry. 

you whisper something like “i love you, dummy,” and he laughs softly, the kind of laugh he saves just for you. 

he doesn’t post it. doesn’t tell the world. 

but at the next press conference, a reporter asks about the ring “so pretty it makes influencers cry” spotted on your finger by fans inspecting recent paparazzi pics of you. 

he just smirks and says, “guess i won something better than a trophy.” 

bachira meguru

his proposal is a chaotic masterpiece. it starts with you waking up to a crayon-drawn treasure map taped to your forehead. yes. your forehead. 

he’s turned your entire city into a love quest, each stop filled with inside jokes, goofy gifts, and memories from your relationship: your favorite boba place (the cashier gives you a note), the alley you once slow-danced in (there’s a heart chalk drawing), the bench where you first kissed (a polaroid taped under it). 

the final clue brings you to the soccer field where he first told you he loved you. it’s covered in fairy lights and handmade decorations (and probably a few fire hazards). he’s waiting at the center in a suit covered in paint splatters because “i wanted to look fancy and like me.” 

he runs up to you with a goofy grin, gets down on one knee, and says: “you’ve always been my favorite teammate. wanna play life together?” 

you say yes and he tackles you into the grass. you're both crying and laughing and covered in glitter somehow. he puts the ring on your toe as a joke first. classic bachira. 

kaiser michael

obnoxiously extravagant. skywriting? rented out a soccer stadium? flash mob in berlin? absolutely. 

but here's the twist: he plays it down. tells you you’re going to a “boring sponsor event.” 

when you get there, it’s pitch black… then boom. lights, camera, roses in the shape of your name, string quartet playing a romantic song, and kaiser walking toward you in a tux. 

"everyone knows i’m great. but being with you? that’s the only thing that ever made me better." 

drops to one knee like he’s on the cover of GQ proposals edition. the ring is a custom design with your birthstone and an engraving that says “you win. i surrender.” 

when you say yes, he kisses you so obnoxiously dramatically that the quartet messes up their notes. 

later posts a selfie of you two mid-kiss with the caption “#ringed 💍 #shewonfr.” comments on his own post: “undefeated.” 

mikage reo

reo has had the ring for eight months. he’s shown it to nagi. to his driver. to the chef. to his tailor. hell, he’s almost asked you during brunch three different times but chickened out because “no, it has to be perfect. 

so, he builds perfect. 

he rents out an entire rooftop in tokyo, overlooking the skyline where you both made so many memories together. he has a custom-built garden placed on the deck with flowers flown in from your childhood town. your favorite piano music plays softly in the background, courtesy of a live quartet. the air smells like your favorite scent. 

there’s no crowd, no press, no flashy headlines, just you and him, dressed in your finest, alone at a candlelit table under the stars. 

after dinner, he leads you through a string-lit walkway where framed photos from your relationship hang like a timeline: your first trip. your first christmas. your matching sweaters disaster. the moment he realized you were it. 

at the end, he stops, takes both your hands, and says with a nervous, reverent breath: “i’ve had access to everything: money, power, comfort. but nothing ever came close to what it felt like holding your hand for the first time.” 

he kneels. his voice wavers, but his heart doesn’t. “i don’t want a future if you’re not in it. will you marry me?” 

your “yes” comes with tears, kisses, and a full dip spin because reo is dramatic and romantic and very in love. 

later, when he twirls you around to slow music, he whispers: “you made me believe in forever.” 

(he doesn't even post it on social media. the moment is too sacred. but nagi leaks it by accident with a story captioned “finally. he shut up about it.”) 

nagi seishiro

nagi never liked effort. until you. and for the first time in his life, he wants to try. for you. 

he doesn’t propose with a big event or a plan that reo drafted. instead, it happens on a normal day, a slow, rainy morning where you're both wrapped in blankets, watching old anime on the couch. 

you’re sitting on his lap. he's playing with your fingers, tracing your knuckles with soft, sleepy circles. 

out of nowhere, he mumbles, “you ever think about marriage?” 

you blink. “uh… yeah?” 

he nods like it’s no big deal. “cool. wanna marry me then?” 

you pause. “wait… what?” 

he stretches, yawns, then digs into the hoodie he’s been wearing for three days and pulls out a velvet ring box like it’s nothing. like he didn’t practice this moment in front of the mirror at 3 AM while trying not to wake you. 

“got a ring and everything. it’s comfy. like you.” 

you’re crying and laughing and he just stares at you with those tired eyes that hide galaxies of devotion. “been with you so long it’s hard to imagine not being yours. don’t wanna try, honestly.” 

when you whisper yes, he finally smiles. a sleepy, bashful smile as he slips the ring on your finger. 

he kisses your cheek and hums, “cool… now i don’t have to stress about it anymore. let’s nap.” 

(he later uses the story to brag to reo: “took me five minutes. still beat you.”) 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[luvt0kki]

training wheels | k.h.j

pairing : Professor!Hongjoong x innocent!reader ft!Wooyoung

♡₊˚( wrote this listening to ‘training wheels’ by Melanie Martinez)

summary: Too innocent for your own good, your professor's little hidden crush only grows the more he could spend time with you. You were so pure before his eyes. A sweet young woman who deserves the sweetest kind of love but still had trouble in paradise with her boyfriend…but he’ll be there for you. After all, he only wants what’s best for you and to protect you.

wc: 10.7k

cw: University AU, smut, coquette-ish fem!innocent reader, virgin reader, slightly older Hongjoong, manipulation, obsessive stalker-ish behavior, yandere behavior, corruption kink, cheating , frat boy behavior from Maknae line, oral!male receiving, there'll be more spice in the next part

REMINDER : my works do not represent the irl members in any way, this is purely a work of FICTION.

a/n: hello so it’s been awhile and this has been cooling in my drafts for so long. Special thanks to @songmingisthighs for helping me whenever I’m stuck with writing and for being one of my favourite persons on this app 😭i wanted to write something that isn’t apart of the Sway With Me universe just for a change and a breather ( I hope you guys don’t mind that). I just wanted to write.

- this is will be a two part series!

READ CONTENT WARNING BEFORE READING!

DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE, OR OTHERWISE REPURPOSE ANY OF MY WORK HERE. I DO NOT NOR WILL ALLOW IT.

Note: Hongjoong is a couple years older but he’s still young for a professor. Maknae Line is in their last year of Uni and is part of the University’s Varsity baseball team.Y /N is innocent ( smh). Kinda coquettish vibes but yuh, sweet girl.

The rain storming outside made anxiety bubble in your chest as you clutched your laptop bag and books tight. You glanced at your phone, the bright red bar of the little battery icon glaring at you. That just made your situation even worse and it didn’t help that the last message you saw was the reason you were stranded here in the first place.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart. The team meeting is going overtime tonight. Get home safe. Please message me when you’re home.”

You waited for him. You should be angry at him but instead, you were only heartbroken and sad that he didn’t keep his word. You were frustrated that you couldn’t even hate him the slightest bit for forgetting to pick you up and the sudden downpour was just the cherry on top.

“Ms. L/N, is that you?”

That voice. That familiar tone that you heard every Monday and Wednesday from 8 am til 10 am. The voice that made your Art Appreciation lecture so interesting that you’re excited to come early every morning to learn sounded from behind you.

You turned around and quickly bowed your head in his direction out of respect.

“Mr.Kim.”

The young professor frowned at your presence.

“It is you. What are you still doing here?” He asked, extending his arm a bit to glance at his silver watch. “It’s almost 11 pm.”

“I-It started raining…” was all you could say. You couldn’t nor want to admit to your university professor the real reason why you were stranded on campus.

“Indeed…,” he gently grasped your arm and pulled you into the covered shade of the hall. “Do you need a ride home, Ms. L/N? I was just about to leave and go home but I can drop you off at the nearest bus stop or if you’d like, your home.”

His offer made your heart melt. Mr. Kim Hongjoong has always been so kind and sweet to his students. He has always shown such care and patience to their studies and well-being, and as the many girls in your classroom would whisper amongst each other, he was also very handsome. Which was a fact everyone in the whole campus knew.

“I don’t want to be of a hassle to you, Sir. I can wait for the rain to stop.” You tried to kindly turn down his offer, not wanting to bother him but also you felt it was inappropriate for a student to be in any proximity to a professor alone.

“Ms. L/N, it’s late and the rain doesn’t look like it’s going to stop anytime soon. I assure you it is not a bother to take you home. I’ll be worried if I just left you here.”

He was right. Both about the rain and the time, and you’re never out this late. Well at least not alone and it made you antsy. Mr. Kim looked at you with so much care in dark brown eyes that it felt impossible to say no to his kind offer.

“O-okay.”

And that’s how you found yourself in the passenger seat of your professor's fancy car.

You looked around subtly observing the luxurious interior of the vehicle. It smelled like new leather and Mr. Kim’s cologne. Your phone buzzed breaking your little observation as Mr. Kim typed in the location of your apartment into his phone GPS.

“Baby? Are you home? Please let me know.” The text message notification shone brightly.

You let out a little sigh.

Hongjoong couldn’t help but notice your rather wilted demeanor. He looked over you in the corner of his eye as he started the car. Little did you know, he was admiring your look today. You didn’t have class with him on Fridays so seeing today was rather…refreshing. Baby pink always looked so pretty on you, he thought to himself. Your blouse almost had a ballet-like aesthetic to it, it wrapped around your torso so elegantly and gently accentuated your curves. It was matched with a very pretty flowy white skirt that wasn’t too short nor too long, and there was a thin pink ribbon in your hair, the finishing touch to your very sweet ensemble. You always dressed so cute.

“Are you okay, Ms. L/N?” He asked his voice so calm and gentle that it calmed your silent frustration.

“Not really…” you muttered your gaze down at the hem of your skirt, your books, and your laptop sleeve on your lap.

The defeated expression you wore made the older man’s heartache for you. He didn’t like to see you like this. You were like a ray of gentle sunshine whenever you entered his classroom, a doe in a beautiful blooming field of flowers that radiated warmth that made anyone and everyone around you comfortable and calm. It was odd to see you like this.

“If you want to talk about it I’m all ears,” he offered with a smile, reaching behind the head of your passenger seat and glancing behind as he reversed up his car from the parking lot.

Your heart raced at the gesture. You didn’t know what about it was making you feel all flustered and small. His kind words and warm tone made it hard to keep your emotions in. Maybe you can just tell him…a little bit.

“I waited for my boyfriend to pick me up…but he didn’t come.” You murmured, heart aching as you said those words.

Hongjoong’s heart dropped, and he raised a brow at what you just said. Your boyfriend didn’t show up?

“I know I shouldn’t be so upset…it’s just he promised. I understand he has obligations to his team…I just feel like he forgot about me.”

Your sweet voice was so small. Hongjoong wanted nothing more than to soothe you and reassure you. Underneath all of that, he was bubbling with irritation. He kept a softened and caring expression on his face as he listened to you, gripping the stirring wheel to hide his annoyance.

“I-I’m sorry to hear that,” he said so sympathetically. “You’re such a sweet girl to be so understanding of your boyfriend. If I remember correctly your boyfriend is…”

“Wooyoung.” You whispered his name, your lips between your teeth as you tried to hold back your disappointed tears and hurt.

Hongjoong’s jaw tightened.

Right.

Jung Wooyoung.

“Ah…yes. The university’s baseball star.” He was also a student in one of his classes. A heartthrob along with his best friend and Baseball Vice Captain, Choi San.

“I’ll feel better when I get home and sleep it off.” You didn’t want to talk about him forgetting to pick you up any longer.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Ms. L/N, how long have you been together?” He asked, hoping his question was not so out of the blue as he continued to drive.

“Almost three months now, Mr. Kim.” You replied, the idea of being with Wooyoung for so long making you a little happy despite tonight’s disappointment.

Lucky bastard. “Oh, that’s very recent.”

“I know…but he’s very sweet to me. He takes care of me and he really makes me happy.” You listed the good things that always made your heart flutter. Your sweet loving boyfriend who had pursued you and never pushed for anything you weren’t ready for. If you were to describe your relationship with Wooyoung, it was like the love you see in the movies.

“That’s good to hear. You’re one of my sweetest students and I’d be worried if you weren’t happy,” Hongjoong smiled, earning the reaction he wanted and expected from someone as innocent as you.

Your pretty eyes widened at his words and you looked even shyer. He wondered if that’s why your boyfriend was attracted to you.

You didn’t know what to say but there was a small smile on your face when he called you one of his sweetest students.

“Thank you, sir.”

Sir.

Hongjoong’s night was getting better than he could ever imagine. First, the surprise of seeing you still on campus alone as he left, then you accepting his offer to drive you home, and now, Sir? For a long time, he loved how that name slipped from your pretty glossed lips.

“I’m sure your boyfriend feels really guilty about not having shown up. Sometimes these things happen.” Hongjoong tried to reassure you, not really wanting to defend the University senior you were seeing but he needed to say what you wanted or needed to hear.

You take his words as it is. He was older than you so he knew about these things more than you. He was wiser. He was right, these things do happen. Wooyoung did apologize too. So maybe it’s not as bad as you were making it out to be.

Hongjoong noticed how you sat up a little, no longer sulking so cutely in the passenger seat. He smirked a little to himself, his eyes on the road. Did you trust his words that much? Was that how much power he had over you?

You were too innocent it concerned him.

You were truly a doe in a field of flowers. So pretty and so completely oblivious to the wolves hiding in the tall grass. He was sure your boyfriend was one of them and that he too had a deep dark desire for your innocence.

“Is this your place?” He pulled up outside an apartment complex, people passing by in the street as he looked up at the building observing it.

“Yes, it is!” You chirped, happy that you were able to get home safely and it was all thanks to your kind and sweet professor. “Thank you so much, Mr. Kim. I really appreciate it. I really cannot thank you enough…and talking to you made me feel better. I’m really lucky that you were here tonight.”

Hongjoong smiled, holding back from reaching over to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. He didn’t want to scare you away.

“If you ever find yourself in any kind of trouble, Ms. L/N, you can come to me okay? Here,” he reached into his pocket, getting his card but writing down his personal phone number in the back of it before holding it your way.

Like he expected you didn’t think much of it, what a sweet girl.

“Mr. Kim you’re so kind.” You took the pretty name card with his phone number in the back. “I don’t get into trouble but I appreciate this. Thank you.”

“Let me help you get inside, okay?” He got out of his car with an umbrella, going over to your side to open the passenger seat door and to hold the umbrella over you and him so that he could escort you to your apartment lobby.

You stepped out of the car and blushed when you felt his arm wrap around your shoulders to gently guide you to the sidewalk and your apartment lobby. He made sure you were dry and safe and also took note of how an access card is needed to get in. He was glad you lived somewhere so safe.

You thanked him again, unable to look him in the eyes because the warm smile on his face was making your heart flutter.

“Now I can go home without worrying if you got back safe,” he lightheartedly teased, making you giggle. He was such a kind person. “Take care of yourself, Ms. L/N. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Enjoy your weekend, Sir.” You bowed your head respectfully, appreciating how handsome he was in his coat and suit. It made him look like a character from the dramas you see on television.

Monday rolled around quicker than you thought while Hongjoong found the weekend went by agonizingly slow. As he set up his laptop in the lecture hall as other students filed in, he couldn’t help but anticipate your arrival. He kindly smiled and greeted the students who had the energy to wish him a good morning, he even kept glancing at your seat that was still empty.

Were you not well? Did you catch a cold over the weekend from the rain on Friday night?

“You really didn’t have to walk me, Woo.”

Your gentle soft voice made the professor perk up and his heart race a little. Subtly, he glanced at the door, more students entering but behind them in the hall was you.

“Hey, I still feel guilty about not having picked you up on Friday. I’m gonna make it up to you.” Wooyoung placed his hand on your waist, feeling the soft fabric of your skirt. “You’re too nice if you’re just gonna let me off the hook. I’m gonna be extra attentive, okay baby?”

Hongjoong narrowed his eyes at the young dark-haired boy, his varsity jacket telling everyone that passed who he was and the status he had in the university. He zeroed in on the hand on your waist, Wooyoung’s thumb caressing you gently and his fingers even playing with the cute ribbons on your skirt.

“O-okay,” you blushed, trying to fight back the giddy smile that was forming on your face.

Wooyoung grinned at your response and glanced left and right before pulling you closer til you were pressed against him. Your wide eyes looked up at him in surprise and you got your body tingling when both his hands rested on your waist.

Your fluster only made your handsome boyfriend grin even more with that twinkle in his eyes that always made you feel special.

“You have a nice day, okay?” He whispered and before you could respond, without a care in the world and with no shame if any other student passing would see, he leaned down and kissed your glossed lips.

Heat bloomed in your cheeks. This was different from the soft pecks and quick kisses he’d give, these were the kisses you liked from him. The deep ones that made your head feel all hazy. The one that made heat pool in your lower belly.

Wooyoung pulled back and pressed another kiss on your forehead. “I’ll see you for lunch.”

“O-okay.” You murmured, feeling everyone’s curious eyes on both of you and wanting to remain hidden by Wooyoung’s form.

Wooyoung smiled and then licked his lips. “Oh? Strawberry?”

The mention of your flavored lip gloss made you look up at him, a cheeky smile plastered on his face.

“You’re gonna have me craving you all morning, baby.” He dramatically placed a hand over his chest. “How will I ever survive? One more.” He tried to go for another kiss and you squealed as he pulled you back.

“Woo, I have class!”

“But strawberry!” He pouted as he kept you in his embrace, some students rolling their eyes at the two of you and some finding the two of you cute and amusing. Wooyoung’s teammates from down the hall caught wind of the two of you and hooted.

“Sorry to interrupt but I’ll be starting my lecture soon.”

The voice of Mr. Kim made your eyes widen as embarrassment made you want to hide from his gaze.

“Oh, Mr. Kim,” Wooyoung spoke his professor's name with no shame of getting caught being affectionate with his girlfriend. “Morning!”

Hongjoong could only manage a nod to his greeting before turning to you, still in your boyfriend’s hold and unable to look him in the eyes.

“Ms. L/N, class starts in five minutes.” He spoke sternly, his tone making your lips form a small pout.

The way you reacted to him made the older man before you swoon. God, you were too cute.

“Yes, sir.”

There it was again. The way you said ‘sir’ all defeated and cute.

“Sorry, Mr. Kim.” Wooyoung apologized. “My bad.” He removed his varsity jacket and draped it over your shoulders before kissing your cheek. “I’ll see you at lunch, baby.”

Then Wooyoung sauntered away with a swing in his step and his bag over one shoulder, on his way to his respective class.

“Sorry, Mr. Kim.” You murmured, keeping your gaze down and hugging your books to your chest as you went inside the room along with the last few students who arrived.

Hongjoong watched as you made your way to your seat. Your pretty skirt swayed with each step and he wondered if skirts made up most of your wardrobe. It must be such a delight for your boyfriend.

Loosening the grip he had on his pen as he watched the whole interaction between you and Wooyoung, he smiled at his students. What mattered the most to him was you were safe. You were here and you were safe and well. Never mind the fact that you and your boyfriend easily made up from Friday night’s incident.

You were here.

The lecture was an enjoyable one not only for the students but him as well. As he discussed the significance of art during the Roman Empire, his students were all hooked in with his explanations and discussions, and even he got carried away excitedly with every question and topic.

“Mr. Kim is so hot.” A classmate beside you, Jennie, whispered to her friend, the two of them giggling as your professor shared his knowledge with the class.

“And he’s so nice too. You think he’s a virgin?” Minsol whispered back and you felt your heart grow hot listening to them.

You fidgeted in your seat and tried to block them out, focusing on Professor Kim.

“He’s so young to be a professor. Maybe he spent all that time studying to the max, you know! Maybe he is!”

“He’s so cute.” Minsol chuckled. “But then he’s so sexy when he pushes his hair back.”

And almost as if on cue, Mr. Kim ran his fingers through his dark brown locks, pushing them back as he smiled at his students in awe at the discussion.

He was handsome. You admitted that a long time ago. Attractive? Yes. But he was your professor. It was wrong to think of him the way Jennie and Minsol were.

Til now, their voices couldn’t be blocked out completely.

“I’d gladly blow him for a good grade,” Jennie whispered, her eyes looking Hongjoong up and down.

“Jennie!” Minsol playfully smacked her friend, her voice still hushed.

“What? Just think of it. Goody two shoes Mr.Kim so kind and worried that your grades are slipping, and then you tell him you’d do anything to raise your grade.” Jennie described the scenario so vividly. “No one needs to know what goes on behind closed doors.”

Your heart was racing in your chest as you listened to the fantasy. It didn’t help that Mr. Kim was right there before your eyes as Jennie’s voice whispered discreetly to her friend such a scandalous scenario.

“But it won’t stop there.”

That piqued your interest and you felt ashamed to have been so curious.

“He has a nice car too. Imagine fucking in the backseat of that luxury car way past campus hours in secret.”

Your heart thumped strongly at the mention of his car. You had been in his car and the dirty thought of Mr. Kim being all over your body and kissing you in the spacious backseat crossed your mind.

You couldn’t help but rub your thighs together.

Hongjoong’s eyes scanned all his students, happy that they were enjoying the class but paused when he saw you. Your body was swallowed by your boyfriend’s big varsity jacket and you looked flustered, even biting your glossed lips, fidgeting in your seat.

Then he saw the two girls next to you giggling and gossiping. What were they talking about that was making you blush so much? Briefly, your eyes moved from your notebook and locked with his but you immediately looked down when you saw that he had been looking your way.

Hongjoong could only assume they were talking about him. In what way? He wasn’t sure but it was a way that was making you look even shyer and could he dare say, hot and bothered?

Then the bell rang.

“Alright, we’ll continue the discussion on Wednesday and I’ll hand you all your Renaissance art period essays that I already graded then. Have a nice day.” Hongjoong’s elegant and calm voice echoed in the lecture hall, as he made his way behind his desk, sitting out the papers.

A chorus of thanks was sent his way as the students little by little exited the lecture hall. He looked your way, watching as you packed your things and gathered your books.

“Hey, Y/N!” Jennie turned to you. “How are you and your stud of a boyfriend?”

“Oh, m-me and Woo?” Your lashes fluttered so prettily as Hongjoong pretended he couldn’t hear you and the girls.

“Yeah! We saw you two being all cute and kissy out in the hall.” Minsol chuckled as she touched up her makeup with powder.

“We’re great.” You couldn’t stop the happy smile on your face as you thought of your boyfriend.

“He’s your first boyfriend, right? Have you two…you know….”

Your brows furrowed. “Have we what?”

Hongjoong fought his sigh at how oblivious you were.

Minsol’s eyes widened as she snapped her compact closed and leaned over. “You guys haven’t?”

“What are you two talking about?” You tilted your head like a puppy.

The two girls exchanged looks of shock.

“Y/N…” Jennie leaned closer, lowering her voice even further but Hongjoong’s ears were sharp. “Are you a virgin?”

Immediately, your face was burning as you hugged your books to your chest, wanting to cover your face with Wooyoung’s jacket.

“Holy shit!” Minsol exclaimed then realized she had been loud. She looked towards the whiteboard and saw Mr. Kim looking at the three of you questioningly. “Uh…sorry Mr. Kim!”

Hongjoong only smiled and he shook his head, returning to his papers and was glad that he was sitting behind his desk as the idea of you never being touched morphed from shock and into desire. He kind of guessed you were…but dating the star athlete and heartthrob of the campus made him second guess that you were.

“Girl, you need to come with us!” Jennie hooked her arm with yours and Minsol on the other as the two of you made your way out of the lecture hall.

“Bye, Mr. Kim!” They chimed as they dragged you out with them.

“B-bye, sir.” Your little voice reached his ears as the three of you finally left him alone in the empty hall.

Hongjoong hunched over, crossing his arms on his desk as he groaned.

You were driving him insane.

What’s worse was that you didn’t even intend to do so.

He wanted you.

He needed you.

As the afternoon passed, Hongjoong made his way to his office. The hall was empty as students were in their classes or their club activities. It was peaceful til he heard hushed whispers ahead from an empty classroom, the door only slightly ajar.

The professor frowned. Were there students doing another weed deal on campus? Before concluding, through the very small gap of the wooden double doors, he took a peek.

“S-someone could walk in.”

Was that his sweet Y/N’s voice? Hongjoong’s heart began to race.

“Baby, I promise no one is. This room is always vacant at this hour.” Wooyoung reassured you, kissing your neck as his hands roamed your body, specifically caressing your thighs that were parted as he stood between them.

Hongjoong swallowed the lump in his throat.

Perched on the large mahogany desk, was you. Your skirt was hiked up higher as your boyfriend pressed against you, his paws all over your soft body, feeling you through your clothes.

“You look so sexy in my jacket,” Wooyoung whispered in your ear, his hand moving lower til they were under your skirt. “I couldn’t stop thinking of how good you looked during lunch.”

You softly yelped when his fingers pressed against your core through your cotton panties. “W-woo!”

“Awe, baby, are you getting wet? All for me?”

“W-woo,” you whimpered when he traced his fingers along your slit, embarrassed at the dirty talk.

“Fuck, you’re soaking through your panties, baby. Tell me you want me to touch you. Ask me and I’ll make you feel good, baby.”

You wanted him to keep touching you but you felt a little guilty. You had started to feel hot way earlier than your boyfriend knew. Jennie and Minsol’s hushed whispering from class about Mr. Kim…ashamedly had made you ache.

“M-make me feel good, Woo.”

Your boyfriend groaned against your neck, rubbing you through your panties. “My pretty baby. You deserve so much.”

Your back arched when he applied more pressure to your clit.

“I’ll make you feel good, baby. I promise…. but I won’t make your first time here in a classroom.” He kissed your neck messily, licking your skin.

“But Youngie…” you didn’t want him to stop touching you. He has touched you like this many times before when he came over but it never went past that. He didn’t want to force you into something you weren’t ready for but as time passed and the more you fell for him, you’ve been wanting to go all the way with him.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll make you cum. I’ll be a good boyfriend and let my pretty girlfriend cum.” He kissed your forehead, slipping his hand under your panties to truly feel you. “You’re so wet, baby.” He moaned, collecting your slick and spreading it all over your pussy.

“Youngie,” you whimpered, gripping his shirt as your thighs trembled at the delicious friction.

“I love it when you call me that,” he sighed, repressing the urge that he indeed in fact wanted to ruin his pretty untouched girlfriend. He loved you and he wanted to treat you right as best as he could. You weren’t like the other girls he’s been with. He liked how you looked at him with stars in your eyes.

Your thighs squeezed at his sides unable to close as he continued to play with your pussy, touching you heavily and the way you liked. You couldn’t help but softly moan and pant at the intoxicating pleasure.

Hongjoong was burning with jealousy. A part of him wanted to disrupt the two of you and scold the two of you for misconduct as he had every right as a professor to do so. But…you looked so pretty falling apart for your boyfriend. Brows furrowed as your lips part and sigh, the setting sun hitting your skin in such a way that the lewd imagery before him was like a movie. He could feel his desire straining in his trousers. He wanted to watch.

“Youngie,” you whimpered so prettily.

Hongjoong took note of how your back arched when Wooyoung nibbled and kissed at a spot on your neck. You must be extra sensitive there. He also imagined how soft your breasts would be if he was the one cupping them through your cute blouse.

“You close baby?” Wooyoung rasped against your ear, rubbing your clit faster, making you lean your head forward to rest on his chest.

“Nuh-uh,” Wooyoung clicked his tongue, his right hand leaving your breast to grab you by the chin, making you look at him. “Let me see your pretty face, baby.” He swiped his thumb over your lower lip and bit his lip when you suddenly took his digit into your mouth, softly sucking on it. Where the fuck did you learn to do that? “C’mon, baby. Cum. Cum for me.”

You released his thumb with a soft pop, your lips even glossier from your gloss and saliva. You were panting and moaning so cutely, Wooyoung felt he was going to cum in his pants just at the sight of you getting off his fingers. He massaged your clit faster, watching the way your lids began to droop as you blinked up at him hazily and your lips part in a cute little ‘o’.

“Youngie!” You cried out, back arching and thighs trembling as you reached your high, your pussy dripping more arousal all over your boyfriend’s fingers.

“That’s it, baby. Such a pretty baby.” Wooyoung cooed, enjoying your fucked out expression. It was addicting really. His sweet innocent girlfriend falling apart for him. If you were this fucked out by just fingers, he can’t imagine how fucking delectable you looked when he finally fucked you.

Hongjoong bit his lip as he watched you come down from your high. How your arms wrapped around your boyfriend as he slowed his circles on your clit. He wished he could see how your pussy looked, how wet it was, and how sweet the nectar it produced.

Wooyoung took his hand from your panties and brought his fingers to his lips, your eyes widening. His hand left its grip on your face.

“W-woo!”

That didn’t stop him from letting his tongue dart out to lick his digits. “You taste so sweet, baby. Maybe I’ll come up tonight once I drop you off and really have a good taste of you.”

You blushed at his words and felt heat spark in your lower belly at what he hinted. Did he mean that he was going to kiss and taste you down there? With his tongue? The idea made your cheeks grow hot but that only made your boyfriend grin.

“Oh? You’re not opposed to it?” He teased, enjoying the way you only huffed and pouted your pretty lips. “Here, baby. Taste yourself.”

Hongjoong watched as you wearily, so curiously, poked out your cute tongue to lick your boyfriend’s fingers. How did you taste? Did you like it? You batted your lashes up at your boyfriend who awaited your verdict.

“So? How do you taste?” He took your hand in his other one, just relishing the moment you two had in the orange sunset-lit classroom.

“G-good.”

“Atta, girl.” Wooyoung grinned, taking you into his embrace and kissing you again.

Hongjoong felt his head pound from how hard he was in his pants. He wanted a taste. He needed a taste.

How was he going to get close to you when you and your boyfriend were all fine and dandy again?

“What do you say, baby? Friday night? I’ll come over and we’ll watch a movie. I’ll bring your favorite strawberries coated in chocolate. Then maybe…” he caressed your cheek. “We could go all the way?”

“W-won’t it hurt?”

Wooyoung and Hongjoong’s hearts ached at your sweetness.

“Well, when Friday rolls around, and you’re not up for it. It’s okay. We’ll just have a cozy little date and make out. I’ll wait for you when you’re ready. Okay?”

His gentle voice along with his care for you made your stomach flutter. “O-okay.” You leaned your cheek into his palm. “I love you, Woo.”

“I love you too, baby.”

While you and Wooyoung basked in the moment you two found yourselves in, Hongjoong made a beeline to his office and locked the door. He glanced down and saw the bulge of his cock poking through his tailored trousers. He threw his head back, slamming it against the door as he groaned.

He was going to have to take care of it himself cause it wasn’t going to go away til he did.

He didn’t know when the stalking— okay, in his defense, following and keeping an eye on you, started.

All Hongjoong knew was, he needed to get to know you. He needed to get closer somehow, be a friend. Someone you could turn to and cry to. Plus, you lived alone, away from your parents. You needed someone to protect you.

From all the wolves that surrounded you, including that boyfriend of yours.

As he passed the baseball field from where he parked his car, he couldn’t help but overhear a group of young wolf pups gathered and talking beneath the morning sun. They all wore the same varsity jacket, making Hongjoong’s pack of wolves analogy even truer.

“So? Did you and Y/N go all the way yet?” The Vice Captain of the team asked, the young and handsome Mr. Choi.

The rest of the boys began to nudge and tease their Captain who had been tossing the baseball in his hand nonchalantly.

“Yeah, have you and little Miss all prim and proper done more than just second base?” The tallest of them, Song Mingi, joined in the teasing, the boys all grinning and tossing oo’s and ah’s. “Your girl has a nice ass.”

“Hey,” Wooyoung harshly hissed at his teammate. “Yeah, and that’s my girl you’re talking about.”

“Can’t blame Mingi. You’re with the campus’s dream girl.” Jongho added, running his fingers through his brown hair.

“Dream girl?” Wooyoung’s brows furrowed.

“Yeah! Sure she’s lowkey and literally the nicest person on campus. Hell, she even helped me with calculus. I even thought of asking her out on a date.” San chirped. “But you got to her first. Anyway, that’s beside the point, did you guys finally do it? Friday night?”

Hongjoong remained hidden behind the shadows of the bleachers, needing to know the answer to San’s question.

“We didn’t. She got nervous and you know, I have to be a good boyfriend and wait. I don’t want to pressure her. She’s a nice girl.” Wooyoung finally responded, his answer earning a groan from his friends.

Mingi stared at him for a moment. “You should be a saint. That amount of self-control is crazy.”

“Well, good things come to those who wait, Mingi.” Wooyoung grinned. “I’m a hundred percent sure my girl is worth the wait and more.”

“You’re really down bad for her, huh?” Jongho laughed softly, actually admiring the fact that Wooyoung was becoming a better guy with you.

“Y-yeah…she is. I really love her.”

“I just can’t believe she fell for you. After all the girls you slept with in the past and the parties. She still fell for Jung Wooyoung. Anyways,” Jongho clapped Wooyoung on the back. “I hope you get some soon.”

San wouldn’t relent though.

“Has she at least been…you know….giving? I know you worship the fuck out of her in different ways but has the pretty princess given back?”

Hongjoong should head back to his office before he’s caught but…he needed to know the details.

“San, she doesn’t know how.”

Wooyoung’s response made San groan and Hongjoong fought back his own.

“She’s a fucking angel your girlfriend.” San huffed his crush on you not concerning Wooyoung as he knew San would never cross the line.

“Dude, when you get to teach her, it’s gonna be so fucking hot.” Mingi sighed, thinking of who to contact for his next hookup. He needed to fuck.

Hongjoong couldn’t help but agree. To teach someone as beautiful and pretty as you, how to use your cute mouth and delicate hands…the fantasy of you between his legs while he sits on his office couch…guiding you while you look up at him for him to lead you…the young pups have a point.

“Okay, can you guys chill and not talk about my girlfriend like that?” Wooyoung lightly scolded his friends. “Anyways, you guys better be on your best behavior for tonight’s practice. I'm driving Y/N home for our date and I really don’t want to have to bail again because Coach isn’t happy with our performance.”

“We’ll do our best,” San spoke for them, sending a pointed glare to Mingi and Jongho, they’re bickering always getting their Coach to overtime their practices. “But coach hasn’t been in a good mood as far as I know.”

Wooyoung swore under his breath, worry bubbling in his chest when he imagined your disappointment and the way your eyes become glassy as you fight back tears. He really didn’t want to make you feel like he didn’t care about you again…he knew you understood his obligations to his team. He just hoped he wouldn’t forget to update you this time and keep you waiting for him.

Hongjoong didn’t stay long after that. He went off his merry way back to his office, wondering if tonight would be another chance to have some time with you again. Be your knight in shining armor if your boyfriend doesn’t pick you up again.

All he needed to do was stay in your good graces.

After all, he just wanted to take care of you…

It began with longer conversations after class, asking how you were doing and if you understood the lecture or not. Then when midterms started to round the corner he would casually stay past campus hours just so that he could ‘by chance’ be finishing up late at the same time you were finished up studying in the library.

But this time, when he found you, the sun was beginning to set and you were in one of the library aisles, in the sections students don’t frequent, on the floor hugging your knees to your chest. Your back was against the tall wooden bookshelf and you were by the window, your head below the window pane as you softly sniffled.

Hongjoong felt his stomach twist. What did your boyfriend do?

“Ms. L/N?” As softly as he could, he called out to you and he saw you visibly stiffen.

“M-Mr. Kim?” You kept your head down, too embarrassed to look up at him because he would see the tears and puffiness in your eyes.

“Are you okay, Ms. L/N?” He slowly approached, observing your body language if you would shrink away from him. He kneeled before you. “Did something happen? Why are you crying?”

You bit your lip, fighting back the way it quivered as you wanted to tell him exactly what happened but you were crying over something so silly.

A gentle warm hand softly patted your head, your heart stopping at the touch. Maybe you could tell him everything. Besides…he has been so kind to you and only ever wanted to make sure you were okay. When the two of you spent time together and talked, you would sometimes forget he was your professor and not just a friend.

And yet, your heart couldn’t help but want to be in the palm of his hand, knowing he’d be gentle with it.

When you lifted your head to look at him, the tears in your eyes had Hongjoong almost falling to his knees and wanting to embrace you right then and there. “I’ll take you to my office okay?” He offered, taking out his handkerchief and putting it in your trembling hands.

“O-okay.” You murmured.

With a guiding arm around your shoulders and making sure no wandering eyes would see the two of you, the likelihood being low since it was past class hours, the varsity teams were training and it was a Friday, he led you to his office.

You stood awkwardly in the middle of his office, clutching his handkerchief in your hand, a part of your brain contemplating the idea of being vulnerable in your professor's office. It was highly inappropriate. Should anyone find out—

You were torn from your thoughts when a pair of warm arms wrapped around you so gently. You blinked a couple of times unable to process what was happening and the beating of your heart. Hongjoong cradled the back of your head as he held you close to him, your cheek brushing against his neck.

“It hurts to see you cry.” He whispered, unable to hold himself back from soothing you then he pulled away and led you to the leather couch in his office.

You sat on one end while he was on the other, the gap between you reminding you of the intrusive thought of the distance you and Wooyoung might have soon…

“What’s wrong, darling? You can tell me, you know. I’m always here to lend an ear. Whatever it is I won’t judge you, especially when it hurts you this deeply.”

Hongjoong tried to meet your eyes that were cast down on your fingers on your lap, fiddling with his handkerchief. Was it your boyfriend? He swore if it was Jung Wooyoung he was going to teach that boy a lesson.

Hesitantly, you allowed yourself to speak freely to him.

A moment of weakness?

“I-I overheard Youngie’s friends when I was in the library…they were about to leave for practice and…” you felt that lump in your throat creep up higher, making you want to sob again as you remembered what they said. “They said that they felt b-bad for him.”

Bad for him?

“It’s a bit…tmi…sir. I’m sorry it’s hard to speak about it.” You stared at the edge of your skirt, feeling the shame and embarrassment you had felt earlier crawling on your skin.

“Ah? TMI.” Hongjoong crossed his arms over his chest, trying to play it off as if it’s nothing to make it comfortable for you to tell him. “Well, Ms. L/N, we are two adults, aren’t we not? Plus, it’s after university hours. I’m here for you right now as a friend and I’d like to help soothe your troubles if you would let me.”

It was almost too easy the way you caved into his words. Jung Wooyoung did not deserve a sweet girl like you.

“Youngie’s teammates…said they feel bad for him because I haven’t…” you paused, heat blooming in your tear-stained cheeks. “I haven’t slept with him.” Then you felt that ache in your heart return. “I don’t want to lose him, Mr. Kim. I love him so much. I-I want to be a good girlfriend.”

Hongjoong’s heart broke. His beautiful wilted rose. How dare those dumb boys speak so ill of you?

“You’re a good girlfriend I’m sure, Ms. L/N.” He reassured you with such calmness, his words made you perk up a little. “You didn’t hear these words from Wooyoung himself right?”

You nodded.

“But even though…I still want to make him feel good. He always makes me feel…” you trailed off, realizing that you were talking about the intimate things you and your boyfriend do. “It’s not that I don’t want to be with Wooyoung like that…I just…I don’t want to disappoint him.”

“Disappoint him how?”

“Wooyoung has been with girls…with experience. He’s my first boyfriend and he’s the first man to ever touch m-me…kiss me…”

Hongjoong was fighting back the attraction grew the more you spoke about your lack of experience. He couldn’t believe those boys had you questioning your worth all because you were scared to go all the way with your boyfriend.

“I-I even tried watching…videos…on how I can do things for Wooyoung…but I just am too scared to initiate it. What if I do something wrong and it goes horribly?”

“You shouldn’t need to worry about that. I’m sure your…” Hongjoong held himself back from saying what he said with jealousy. “…boyfriend would be more than happy to teach you. Has he offered to?”

You shook your head.

“Ah…I see.” Hongjoong sat back, trying to think of what to say next. “I’m pretty sure what you lack is practice…” he trod carefully, gauging your expression with each word he was choosing. “You’ll never know til you give it a try. With everything in life, you learn as you go.”

He watched as you took each word seriously, a rather sweet pensive look on your face as you nodded at his advice. Hongjoong hoped he didn’t cross the line by saying that and made things awkward between the two of you.

“If I may speak as another human being helping another,” Hongjoong continued, hoping to calm your stormy mind. “I just hope you don’t feel pressured to do anything with your boyfriend or anyone. It’s very sweet of you to want to do something this intimate with someone you desire but I’d rather you won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

You fiddled with the hem of your skirt, going over all the caring and sweet affirmations Mr. Kim was giving you. How was it you felt so safe with him? He was too kind to you…yet you enjoyed the company he gave.

When Wooyoung wasn’t able to take you home from extended practices and last minute cancellations and texts, Professor Kim was always there to somehow salvage the day. To stop the breaking of your heart with his warm smile and effort to get to know you and make conversation.

“M-Mr. Kim…”

You finally spoke. Hongjoong smiled warmly at the call of his name. He observed how your cheeks began to flush. Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you hesitate to continue. You suck in a shaky breath, forcing yourself to be brave and look him in the eye.

“Could you guide me?”

Nothing but your voice rang in his ears at this moment. Hongjoong was shocked by the question. Was it a question? With the way your eyes were bleary and glossy, how your lips were trembling, and how flustered you appeared. It was a plea.

“Ms.L/N….” He tried to resist as much as he could, knowing that if he were to cross the line, he wouldn’t be able to go back. You were his forbidden desire. If he were to take a bite, he would want nothing more than to consume you.

You knew what you asked was silly and inappropriate, and a part of you regretted asking but if you were to leave this room right now, all you would be able to think about was how Wooyoung’s friends talked about you and wonder how much Wooyoung shared to his friends about yours and his relationship.

Mr.Kim looked speechless and flustered from what you asked of him. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked.

“Mr.Kim, I-I’m so sorry,” you quickly blurted out, trying to salvage the odd atmosphere. “Please forget everything I said. Thank you so much for comforting me—

"Are you sure you want me to help, Ms. L/N?” Hongjoong stopped your rambling, taking your hand that you hadn’t realized was trembling from nerves but the moment he spoke and he touched you, your body found a sense of calm. “I just don’t want to make you do anything you’ll regret.”

Oh, he wanted to help.

“I-I wouldn’t have asked anyone else but you...I feel safe with you.” You mumbled shyly, staring at his pretty hand holding yours, his thumb rubbing soothingly over your knuckles.

“Your trust in me is something I shall cherish and I wouldn’t dare break it.” He looked you in the eyes as he said that, the warmth and intensity of them made your heart flutter. “I promise I’ll keep it strictly professional and I’ll make sure to put your comfort first.”

Your heart fluttered again. “O-okay.”

“How would you like this to go?”

“I-I’m not sure…Wooyoung usually takes the lead whenever we do anything more than kissing…” you were speaking so softly, it was pulling at Hongjoong’s heartstrings. You were so precious. “I wouldn’t mind you taking the lead…teach me how to make Wooyoung feel good.” You squeezed his hand nervously and he kept his soft smile on his face, hiding his excitement.

You’ll let him take the lead?

“Okay, sweetheart. I promise I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with okay?” He caressed your cheek fondly, forcing himself to not brush your lips with his thumb. “Tell me to stop when it gets too much.”

“Thank you, sir.” You whispered, feeling all tense as he got closer.

Sir? Were you trying to kill him? He scooted closer, your knees touching his own. “Do I have permission to touch you, darling?”

The pet name made you feel just a little bit more hotter. The way he said it, his voice a low purr, made you feel things you thought you’d only feel with Wooyoung.

“Y-yes, sir.”

Experimentally, he slowly glided his hand up the side of your thigh, the sweet gasp falling from your lips making him smirk against your neck. He brushed his lips against your neck, before whispering in your ear. “You’ve watched videos as research, correct?”

You stuttered out your response, feeling your body grow warm with the way his hand smoothed up and down your thigh, never going higher than where your skirt stopped. “I did…” Was it wrong that you wanted his hand to move higher?

Hongjoong held back from kissing your neck, testing the waters of what exactly he could do to you. His hand moved to your waist now, caressing the curve of your side then stopping so that his thumb was just below the underside of your bra covered chest.

“Why don’t you show me what you learned, hm? Then I’ll guide you along the way.” He suggested, his tone going just a little lower than usual.

And that’s how you found yourself on your knees, between your professor's trousered thighs, your eyes looking at him with such uncertainty and the willingness to learn.

“Don’t be shy. I’m sure you won't disappoint,” Hongjoong reassured you, petting your head lovingly while his thoughts were going wild at the mere sight of you all cute and demure between his legs.

“O-okay.”

As you had watched and observed, you placed your hands on his thighs. They trembled a little. What if you messed up here too? You shook the thought away. Professor Kim was going to guide you. You’ll be okay and then you’ll be able to make Wooyoung feel good too.

All of this was for Wooyoung.

You slowly slid your hands up his thighs feeling the smooth fabric of his trousers as you recounted the videos you had seen. You remembered how the woman in the video would trace her fingers over the man’s groin…but was Hongjoong even…turned on?

You remember how stiff Wooyoung would get when you were on his lap as you two made out, his hands running up and down your sides then over the curve of your ass, squeezing it.

Do you need to kiss Mr. Kim too?

Before asking, you experimentally softly placed your palm against his groin, blushing to find that he was hot and rather stiff through his pants. A shaky breath escaped him and you retracted your hand.

“W-was that not okay?”

“It was fine,” he managed a smile for you, getting hard at just how shy and sweet you were. “You’re doing fine.”

“O-okay,” you swallowed the lump in your throat, gliding your palm over his clothed groin before sliding higher, your other hand joining to unbuckle his belt.

Each gentle and inexperienced touch or ghost of your fingers over his crotch was making his cock twitch to life. It was so easy for him to be turned on…well…because it was you. It was endearing how focused yet nervous you were and once you tugged his briefs down low enough for his cock to spring up, your eyes stared at his length.

From his reclined position on the couch, his legs spread to accommodate you, he was able to notice the way your thighs squeezed to tether at the sight of him.

Your face was hot as your eyes took in the sight of his cock. It was way more intimidating to see one in person than on a screen…was it odd for you to think it was rather pretty? The head was a soft pink and it glistened with something that made your tongue somehow itch to want to try and wrap your mouth around him. Would he fit in your mouth? Would he fit in— you stopped yourself from thinking that. You can’t go all the way with Mr. Kim, you were going to do that with Wooyoung.

Feeling his warm gaze on you, you gently wrapped your hand around his length. The feeling of him hot and heavy in your palm, the girth of him, made your core pulse.

Hongjoong bit his lip at the gentle touch, the smoothness of your palm, and the dainty way you held him making him sensitive to whatever you were doing. He knew it wasn’t on purpose that you were prolonging any sort of movement, you weren’t sure what to do next.

“Tell me what you learned,” he managed to speak calmly. “Or what you observed.”

Squeezing your thighs together and inching closer to get into a comfortable position, you thought of what to answer. “In the videos…the girls take their partner in their mouth…and some just move their hand…I'm not sure what to do next, I’m sorry.” You looked away, embarrassed.

This was exactly why you never initiated it with Wooyoung. If you did and you messed up or did not even follow through, he would’ve mentioned it to his friends somehow in their talks.

Hongjoong saw how nervous you were and tried to suppress the desire to command you what to do and how you should do it, he placed his hand over yours that was softly holding his cock. He couldn’t be mean to you…as much as he wanted to completely control you and make you feel pleasure that would have you falling apart for him, he wanted to be gentle with you.

“I’ll guide you, okay?” His other hand petted the top of your head, making the nerves yo I had been feeling dwindle. You nodded.

“You have to spit on it first, sweetheart.”

His words made your eyes widen. The dirty notion was embellished with a sweet term of endearment. Hearing it from him, from the mouth where only kindness, care and knowledge was all you heard come out of it, made you feel warm.

“Spit on it?”

“I know it sounds odd but it’ll help. I’ll guide you on how to use your hand first. Don’t be shy, darling.”

His encouragement only made you want to do as he says. You told yourself it only feels weird because you’ve never done it before and Mr. Kim was kind enough to help you be more confident when the time comes for you to do it with your boyfriend.

Leaning over, you collected your saliva and spat softly. Hongjoong bit back any sound that dared escape him at the moment not ready to break the promise of being professional for your sake but the warmth of your spit and how shyly you did it turned him on even more.

“Now,” he guided your hand. “Spread it around with my precum like this.” He loosely moved your hand, letting your dainty fingers be covered by the mix of your spit and his precum. “It’ll be easier to move your hand this way, it’ll feel good.”

You nodded, feeling the slickness against your palm and how it now easily glided along his length with his hand still over yours.

“You have to hold it just a little tighter.” He closed his hand over yours a little tighter but not too tight but just enough to tell you how much pressure you should be applying.

“L-like this?” You adjusted your grip and slowly while your hand moved in slow up and down motions, he removed his hand and a deep sigh of bliss left him.

“Just like that, sweetheart…just like that.” His voice dipped lower and his head rolled back a little, giving you the perfect view of his sharp jawline and pink lips.

Your eyes kept shifting from his face and to his cock in your hand, entranced somehow by the idea of how he was feeling good by just your hand. Watching a video was completely different from actually doing it. You recalled the way a girl in a video would twist her hand as she glided her hand up and down, and you decided to try the motion.

Hongjoong hissed out a curse at the new movement. “That feels good.” His hips bucked up a little, pushing his cock up in your hand.

Feeling a little braver, you leaned forward to press your lips on the head of his cock, kissing it and feeling heat surge to your core at how warm the tip was against your lips.

Hongjoong lifted his head from its thrown back position to look at you, the sudden sensation of your soft lips on his cock turning him on further.

“You want to try that already?” He asked, his hand gripping the armrest of the couch when your doe eyes looked up at him so innocently, your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, and nodded, it was driving him crazy. It was getting harder and harder to retain any sense of composure. “Go ahead, sweetheart. Show me what you learned. You’re already doing so well. You look so cute like this too.”

His words of praise and compliments made both your heart and core throb. It made you try even harder to please him. You wondered if it was okay that you were getting wet. You could feel your slick sticking to the gusset of your panties and against the lips of your pussy.

Hongjoong moaned softly when he felt your hot tongue swirling around his cock head. He twitched within your hand continued their rhythmic twisting and up and down rhythm. He watched as you tasted him. He could see the way your brows furrowed at the taste and when he felt you take more of him in your mouth and suckle at the sensitive tip of his cock, you were making it harder for him to not buck his hips up into your pretty mouth.

“You doing okay?” He asked, gently placing his hand behind the back of your head, caressing you.

You nodded, humming, the vibrations of your sound adding some extra pleasure to the way you were giving him head.

“F-fuck, you’re doing so good, sweetheart. Such a good girl.”

The way he said that made your pussy clench. Why did that have some effect on you? It sounded so hot coming from him and it made you want to please him even more.

Eventually, you took what you could of him in your mouth, fighting back your gag reflex and bobbing your head shallowly along his cock. Your hand continued to jerk what you couldn’t fit of his length in your little mouth. You were aching so bad, you couldn’t help but let your free hand slide between your thighs to find your pussy, surprised at how wet you were. It was easy to spread your arousal all over your cunt and begin massaging your clit the way you liked, settling for the friction of your fingers.

Hongjoong noticed your dainty hand between your legs. The sight of you suckling and bobbing your cute head up and down along his cock, and touching yourself was sending him to the edge. Plus your lips tinted with pink gloss were mixing with your saliva as you continued to suck him off. You were so fucking cute.

“I’m close darling. You’re doing so well. You had nothing to be so nervous about. F-fuck.” He shuddered when he felt the head of his cock hit the back of your throat and you squeaked so adorably, the sound muffled. What a cute little slut you were touching yourself as you stuffed your little mouth with his cock. Though he was saying such sweet praises, deep down he wanted to fuck his cock into your mouth and watch you cry from taking him. He was betting you’d look up at him with wide pleading eyes with tears as you let him use you as his personal cock sleeve.

The mere thought of that sent him over the edge and without warning, he came. A small squeak left you as sudden hot spurts of cum spilled into your mouth. You latched off of him in surprise, your hand still pumping him as he came. His moans and the way his head was thrown back, made you stop touching yourself so you could focus fully on the way he climaxed all over your face.

“Fuck!” He groaned as his hand that was cradling your head gripped your hair and his hips bucked up into your hand, riding out his high. You whimpered as he tugged at your hair, the sensation making your clit throb. Why did that feel good? Why did having his release on your cheeks and in your mouth, turned you on?

“Open up, darling. Let me see.” Hongjoong tugged your hair back almost forcibly, his gaze almost predatory, it scared you a bit. You’ve never seen such a dark, menacing yet charming expression on your sweet and kind professor.

You parted your lips and he smirked.

He wondered if you knew just how cute and ruined your look right now. Pink gloss smeared over your lips and your cheeks flushed and stained with his white sticky cum, and the best of all, his seed was on your tongue.

He wished he could take a picture.

You didn’t realize you were breathing slowly as your heart was racing and he stared down at you with a glint in his eye that you couldn’t quite place.

“You look so pretty like this, darling.” His grip on your hair loosened and his hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb dipping into your mouth as you still obediently kept your lips parted for him. He smeared more of his cum all over your lips and chin, finding the idea of him on your skin so hot…it’s like he marked you. “Such a good girl.” He cooed and you didn’t know why you did what you did but you swallowed his salty release, and his reaction made it all worth it. “What a perfect girl you are.”

His praise only made your heart flutter, his words only feeding that part of you that wanted to please him…to please Wooyoung.

“D-do you think Woo will like it?” You asked, your voice a little hoarse as you sat there on your knees, looking up at him so sweetly.

Hongjoong held back from rolling his eyes at the mention of the boy who didn’t deserve you. He masked his annoyance with a smile. “He’ll like it, darling. You did really well. I mean it.” He took his handkerchief and began to clean you up, gently dabbing your cheek.

Despite the ache between your thighs, you couldn’t stop the way a smile grew on your face at the approval from your most trusted mentor.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Kim—

“Hongjoong.” He cut you off with a gentle smile, looking at you lovingly.

“What?” You stuttered that same feeling you felt earlier, the confusion of the same way he made your heart flutter like Wooyoung does.

“You can call me Hongjoong when it’s just the two of us, darling. I think with how close we’ve gotten…I’d like you to call me by my name. Don’t you think we’re rather close?”

There was something about his eyes that captivated you. It was so magnetic it was hard to not be completely wonderstruck and in control of that powerful gaze.

All you could do was nod.

“That’s a good girl…” he cooed, smiling warmly. “Perhaps, you need more guidance. You want to be a good girlfriend for your Wooyoung right?”

You did, you wanted to be the best girlfriend for him.

“I do…”

“Sometimes what you see online is not entirely reliable. I’m offering you…private lessons…doesn’t that sound good for you?”

You nodded, letting him pull you up on and onto his lap, gasping when your core pressed against his thigh.

“I’ll teach you all there is to know. I want what's best for you and for you to know exactly what you’re getting into.” He ran his hand up and down your thigh, slowly. “You don’t want to disappoint Wooyoung, right?”

“I don’t Sir…” you said so quickly.

So innocent. So naive. So dumb. So perfect for him to ruin.

He never thought he’d get to this point.

All this time, he has only ever admired you and desired you from afar. He kept his reputation as a well-loved and kind professor so that no one and you, especially you, would ever question his motives.

“Now, I think we should try this again. You did really well but I can teach you a little extra something that will make your boyfriend so, so, so happy.”

feel free to scream in my askbox about the fic I will gladly fangirl with you and I love feedback. It keeps me writing.

special tags : @khjcs @skteezcursed @caityelise99

[chrisstvrns]

blurb of chris loving his girl so much, he would do anything for her forgiveness.

warnings: light angst, fluff in the end

word count: 876

chris knew he had fucked up.  

and not in the way where he could flash that lopsided grin, mumble out some half-assed "my bad," and wrap his arms around you until you begrudgingly accepted his apology. no, this was the kind of fuck-up that left his phone void of your name, your texts, your voice. it had been three days. three days of silence, three days of you ignoring his texts, leaving his calls to ring out, and worst of all, three days since you had stormed out of his house with fire in your eyes and venom in your words.  

matt and nick had given him shit for it. repeatedly. but chris didn’t care about their ribbing—he cared that he hadn't been able to fix it yet.  

so, in an act of desperation, he did something he never thought he'd do: he sat down with an actual pen and paper and wrote you a letter. no texting, no notes app draft, no voice memo where he rambled until he hoped he made sense. just ink and regret spilled onto three long pages.  

chris folded the letter, sealed it in an envelope, and, with a determined heart, drove over to your place. he carefully placed the letter into your mailbox, texted a simple “i left something for you,” and prayed you’d read it.  

you did.  

and not only did you read it, but you also grabbed a red pen and went absolutely feral on it.  

when chris found the same envelope in his mailbox the next morning, his heart leapt in hope—until he pulled out the letter and saw your handwriting scribbled all over it, ruthlessly correcting his grammar, circling misspelled words, and writing snarky little comments in the margins.  

“you don’t blame me? then why did you fight me on it?”  

“you should’ve listened to me? damn right. make this a thesis statement instead of burying the lead.”  

“good, this part actually sounds like you mean it. keep going.”  

and the kicker, written at the very bottom in bold, underlined letters:  

“if you can rewrite this and turn it in by tomorrow, i’ll unblock you.”  

chris stared at the letter, torn between laughing and groaning in frustration. only you would take his heartfelt apology and turn it into a goddamn english assignment.  

he grinned.  

challenge accepted.  

chris spent the rest of the day hunched over his desk, muttering to himself as he scribbled out a new draft. he had never put so much effort into writing anything in his life, not even the one essay he actually cared about in high school. he read and reread your comments, taking them seriously, and making sure that this time, every word counted.  

he started over twice. the first draft felt too stiff, too formal - like he was writing a resignation letter instead of an apology. the second had too much rambling, and you’d already told him not to bury the lead. so, for the third attempt, he took a deep breath and wrote like he was talking to you. like you were right in front of him, arms crossed, waiting for him to say something real.  

by the time he finished, his hand was cramping, his desk was covered in discarded drafts, and the clock read 2:14 am. but for the first time in three days, he felt like he had a shot at fixing things.  

chris sealed the new letter in an envelope, drove to your place, and left it in your mailbox, yet again. this time, he didn’t text you - just knocked once and walked away, leaving it in your hands.  

the next morning, his phone buzzed.  

a text from you.  

chris’s heart jumped as he unlocked his phone and read the text.  

“you passed. barely. but i’ll allow it.”  

before he could even think of a reply, another message popped up.  

“come over.”   

chris didn’t waste time. he was out the door in minutes, barely remembering to grab his keys. the drive to your place felt longer than ever, anticipation and nerves tangling in his chest.  

when you opened the door, he barely had a second to register the look on your face before you were pulling him inside, your arms crossing over your chest like you were still debating whether or not to be mad at him.  

“well?” you prompted.  

chris ran a hand through his hair, letting out a breath. “i meant every word.”  

you eyed him for a moment before unfolding the letter and holding it up. “this was good,” you admitted, tapping the paper. “and better yet, you actually listened.”  

his lips twitched. “had to. i was being graded.”  

your glare was half-hearted at best. “i don’t think you understand how close you were to failing.”  

chris grinned. “guess that makes this an extra credit assignment,” he said, closing the space between you.  

you rolled your eyes, but when he hesitated, waiting for permission, your expression softened. finally, you sighed, tilting your head up just enough to meet him halfway.  

“i hate that you’re kinda good at this,” you muttered.  

chris smirked. “oh, i’m great at this.”  

and when his arms wrapped around you, pulling you in, you didn’t pull away.

────────────୨ৎ────────────

a/n: this was made based off of this post by @muwapsturniolo !! finally out of my writers slump (???) i kinda hate this sooo ?

- aurora ᯓ✮⋆˙

likes and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! ੈ✩‧₊˚

to be added to my taglist, comment on this post!

[makedonsgriva]

Random, what are your top favorite fics that you've written (feel free how much that you want to list)? Why they're special to you? Is there a specific inspiration when you wrote them?

Oh this is a pretty cool ask!

I will list five here!

1. We Should Just Kiss (Like Real People Do)

I’m actually pretty proud of this fic because it’s the first one I wrote after a pretty long hiatus and I was very nervous about it because a) it was my first fic for a new fandom b) it has explicit sexual content and I wasn’t sure if could pull it off nicely c) writing calamity xie lian and wu ming was a task alright like this fic took me almost a month i guess?? and d) since it was something I’d written after so long I was nervous my writing would be crappy

But people liked it and even I was very satisfied and pleased with how it turned out in the end! I’m pretty proud of it. Idk how I was inspired to write this fic because I started on a draft of it in the notes app of my phone while I was commuting back to home after my internship (harrowing experience fr)

(Maybe the fic made me channel out all my frustrations caused by the internship via xie lian)

2. I Really Like Your Company

I love this fic because it’s the first multi chapter fic I completed and posted. Also because it was my lifeline fr while I was grappling with many things. I’d started it as a gift for one of my dear friends and then it just became so much more. It’s so warm and comforting.

I was throwing in tropes and all cute stuff I could imagine in it and it made me happy. Writing that fic, getting comments on it made me very happy. I love that fic.

3. Once More We Try

Okay I’m actually still working on this fic and as a matter of fact I was working on its latest chapter before this and I truly think this fic has quickly become one of my favourites because I love writing all the characters in it so much. There’s so much to explore and so much to write and it’s a challenge but such a good challenge!

Idk how I got the inspiration for the fic I was just scrolling through tumblr one day and I randomly got this thought that huh what if SY had died instead of throwing Binghe in the abyss? And then I posted that idea and.

IT BLEW UP?

so I thought whoa why wait for someone else to write it when I can write it so I got down to business and here we are! It’s super fun. I love this fic so much. It’s also my first fic for scum villain fandom and I’m so glad it’s been so well received ❤️

4. Song of The River City

Another TGCF fanfic! I’ve put it on hold for now as I’m planning to complete OMWT before I get back to it. I’m actually very proud of this AU where we have ghost king! Xie Lian who had died during the hundred sword scene and cultivator! Hua Cheng (who had dispersed his soul as Wu Ming and was re incarcerated as the cultivator). I’m planning to do great things with this AU and I also love writing a darker XL.

The inspiration for this fic was that I was just thinking about the hundred sword scene and I thought, huh what if that guy died here? So I got down to work.

I love this fic and writing all the characters in it and plotting out the backstories is very fun! Especially the latest chapter where I’d posted the fengqing backstory is one of my favourites. I’m proud of it.

5. I Remember It

So this is just 100 words long and I love this fic because I feel like I managed to break mine and all its readers hearts in so few words. I love writing drabbles because they are always a good challenge for me and this one is a particular favorite of mine. The inspiration for it was actually a fic idea that I later scrapped away. The fic was supposed to be from the pov of snowbaz’s kid and her experience with them as she got older and they aged too and yeah.. somehow it turned into that.

Thank you so much for the ask!

[yaesnovels]

eternal (snippet)

blade x fem!reader

tw; battle with swords and a knife, mention of almost-but-not-really-serious injuries.

a/n: just wrote this bit in the bus on my notes app in like fifteen minutes. not proofread obvi, don‘t mind any mistakes please and thank you <3

"fuck, blade, okay. you win. i give up", you whisper breathlessly, dropping your sword that you were fighting the stellaron hunter despite knowing how much more advanced he was with his swordsmanship than you and you basically stood no chance.

"oh yeah? you give up? nice try", blade shot you a glance — nothing but hatred in his eyes — as he, too, dropped his sword but grabbed a smaller knife to hold it against your throat, the sharpness slightly cutting into your skin causing you to hiss in pain.

"i give up, ren. i—"

"don‘t. you. dare. call me ren. you lost that privilege when you betrayed me", blade pressed the knife more into your throat, just slightly next to where he would hit your carotid artery.

"blade. i‘m so sorry. i wish i had the chance to explain before you come to the conclusion to kill me like you absolutely have any right to. but i am perfectly fine knowing that i spent some of my most beautiful moments in life with you. i am just so sorry that i hurt you like that. i never intended to", you said, voice nothing but a mere whisper as some blood dripped onto your shirt and you were trying to move your head as little as possible.

before he would finally end your life.

to your surprise, he pulled the knife away. he was looking at you with tears in his eyes — something you had only experienced once in your short time as one of the stellaron hunters.

when you betrayed him and fought against him alongside the members of the astral express.

only he didn‘t know that you did this because of your love for him. because you wanted to be with him for all eternity instead of leaving him eventually because you grew old and he was stuck with his immortality.

here is a random draft i came up with. plan is to write this once i‘m back in germany on wednesday and post it by next weekend <3

this might end up having smut tho i might also just keep it angsty. not sure yet on that part.

[kerryweaverlesbian]

How do you go from Wanting to Having? I think this transition would be hard on my man Castiel.

I was going to do a cute little nice Cas Returns fic - so convinced, was I, that this would be teeny tiny that I only wrote it out here in a tumblr draft and not on my notes app! Anyway I have no idea how long this is and it is...uh...there's elements of cuteness I'd say, but it's more significantly emotional comfort of mostly Cas, ft selective mutism Dean. (Implied offscreen alcoholism.)

Cas is spat back out at 2am on a Tuesday, staggering hard onto the cold dungeon floor. It's pitch black in there, but with Cas’s angelhood restored (though still patchy) he can see well enough to find the stairs. When he tries the door, it's locked from the outside. As dungeons tend to be.

On pushing it open regardless, he finds that a cabinet had been pushed in front of it too. He's certain a human would have a hard time with it, but he shifts it aside with ease. He maneuvers it softly, aware of the time. Angels are always aware of the time. He felt the 40 years of battle through Hell for Dean's soul, he'd known the year-and-change of fight-and-flight through Purgatory, he'd counted every precious second of Jack's beloved company. The only place time didn't exist was the Empty. Or it didn't, until Cas broke it further.

He hopes, briefly, that those he woke up for aid had made it out as smoothly as him. Meg had, as ever, proved invaluable, and it had been a (tempered) joy to find Anna again. He sends silent thanks to Billie, for Their part in his return; They had been as angry as the role of Death allows that They'd been forced into Chuck's narrative once again, furious enough to value sabotaging his ending over Their objections to letting people back. Castiel had sworn that this would be the last time and Billie had said "Yes. It will." though he's sure they both know it's unlikely to be.

It's been 3 weeks and 5 days since he'd sacrificed himself to save Dean. It's strange; he'd thought since making the deal that if he was stolen away at his moment of happiness, he would fall into despair himself. To be ripped away at the time he found what he so deeply wanted, that would surely have broken him, and left him ready to be subsumed. Instead it had galvanised him. The Empty had made a fatal error; it had forgotten that stored within happiness there is always, always hope. Hope is intrinsic to happiness.

He follows that hope to the cracked open door of Jack's room: he's in there, sleeping, curled around his pillow affectionately. Castiel knows there's a knife under his pillow, but he still sleeps with his back to the door. Cas lets him be. He isn't quite ready to explain his absence in a way that would be kind to his son. He has someone else to talk to first.

Cas stops outside of Dean's bedroom. Light shines out from the cracks around the door, but he can tell through reaching out through the ether that Dean is sleeping. With a touch to the handle the door opens silently, and Cas closes it behind him, equally quiet. Every light in the room is on.

There are significantly more lights than there had been when Cas had last seen it. A cluster of floorlamps clutter the footspace, and every flat surface bares as many of the Men-of-Letters flat-roofed table lamps as it can fit. Even some of Dean's guns had been excised in favor of wiring to attach extra overheads that hang somewhat precariously above Dean's supine body.

Though Dean sleeps, a deep frown mars his brow. He's on his side too, facing the centre of the bed, though his arms cradle a bottle of scotch - opened and hours since spilled on the bedspread. To see him again in such bright light is a privilege. He finds, as he does every time that he has been reuinted with Dean, that he is indeed just as beautiful and vulnerable as he had remembered. Sometimes, near the beginning, he had made himself almost convinced that his feeling was exaggerated, his devotion practical and their connection shallow. Every time he found himself in the same room as Dean, he found himself proven wrong.

Privilege though it might be to see him like this, Castiel also wants to see his frown alliviated. Without regret, he turns his hand in the air, dimming every light to a soft glow. He spreads his hand on the mattress and wills away the wet spot that's crawled under Dean's face. Balancing one knee on the mattress Cas maneuvers the bottle out of Dean's hands, gentle and smooth, then stretches back to put it on the floor since the lights crowd the bedside.

Turning his gaze back to Dean, he finds his efforts were for naught. Without the bottle, Dean's hand has balled into a tight fist, squeezing so strongly that it shakes, and his frown has, if anything, deepened. He must be having a nightmare, though its the quietest Cas has ever seen him in one. Typically he thrashes, shouts, fights against fear even in his sleep. Now he's so still with it he seems almost dead, rigor mortised in his own bed.

Castiel remembers a time, less than a decade ago, when he would watch Dean's nightmares run their course. It wasn't impassivity that stayed his hand, but inertia. It had been an as yet uncured habit to stay out of the affairs of the Earthly, to restrict himself to speech-when-spoken-to. In short; he didn't know he could. Now, he has no such reluctance.

He curls his hand over Dean's left shoulder, a mimic of his print on his right, and slides a tender calmness into him, which finally relaxes Dean's posture. His brow smooths over, his jaw goes slack, and his breathing deepens. He's beautiful.

Then he snaps awake. A hand clamps hard over Cas’s wrist, holding him firmly and frightened eyes catch his in the dimness.

"Cas?" Dean's voice is hushed and croaked, as if he'd been sleeping for a long time.

A gentle irony strikes Cas, that Dean was resting while he was fighting his way home. It makes him smile, and that seems answer enough to Dean. He's grabbed fiercely and pulled into a thick hug, one that would render him breathless if he were a human. He holds Dean right back, deliberately softer. It feels important to be careful with him right now.

"I'm here, Dean. I'm sorry that I-"

Dean shoves Cas back and claps a hand over his mouth. Cas is caught in his serious, troubled gaze, and it takes a moment to interpret the slow shake of Dean's head.

Cas nods, and Dean draws his hand back. "I understand. I won't apologise."

Contrary, Dean huffs and rolls his eyes, as if to say, when do you ever? He doesn't speak. It's more than a little worrying. Not one to go unheard, though, Dean takes one of Cas’s hands in his and laces their fingers together, giving Cas a defiant expression. Cas’s heart catches.

"You don't have to," he makes himself say, "It's alright, Dean. What I said doesn't have to change anything between us. I love you, and that's..."

He was going to say, that's all you need to know, but Dean had rolled his eyes again and pressed a kiss to the back of Cas’s hand. At Cas's trailing off, he smirks, which slides away quickly into indecision. Dean tilts their joined hands back and forth together for a while, clearly thinking something through, and Cas lets him, trying not to squeeze too hard from his mounting, perilous hope. His hope in the Empty had been merely to live. To exist in a world where Dean knew the truth; that he is both lovable and loved. Now he is hurtling towards - something else.

It's funny (in the human, unfunny sense): he'd spent so long tamping down his possible happiness in fear of the Empty that now that it can be accessed freely, the idea of great happiness is a little frightening. What does a world look like where he gets what he wants? It's unimaginable.

He tries to untangle their fingers, at that thought, but Dean holds him fast, both with his grip and with a raised, unimpressed, eyebrow. It seems his attempt at absconding has made Dean's mind up. He reaches past Cas and opens the top drawer of his bedside cabinet, and drops a notebook into Cas’s lap.

The notebook is spiral bound and cheap-looking, its cover merely denoting the word 'Notebook' and its A5 size. The plastic of the cover is rough under Cas’s thumb. It's a far cry from Dean's leather bound hunting journals.

Correctly interpreting Cas’s tactile investigation as cowardliness, Dean impatiently flips it open with one hand to a random page.

You can have it.

That's what it says, all the way across the double page spread. Written over and over again in ball point pen, uncaring for or deliberately defeat of the evenly spaced blue lines meant to corral the written word.

You can have it, and variations thereupon: You can have it, damn it; could have fucking taken me, asshole; what do you think is supposed to make me happy now, you arrogant, stupid son of a bitch?

The me of the last is underlined so harshly that the paper is ripped. This outpouring is repeated on every page but the first, which instead says only, Come back. Those two words have been traced over enough that the message is engraved over the next three pages.

"Dean, I..." Cas begins, then has to stop, overwhelmed.

The magnitude of Dean sharing this work of grief is not lost on him. Perpetually making themselves vulnerable; is that not the story of their relationship? He follows the lines of Come back with his finger until Dean taps his chin up. He's leaned in close, the ends of his hair tickling Castiel's forehead.

He opens his mouth, but this time only manages a click in his throat that Cas thinks is supposed to be the start of his name.

"I understand," Cas says again, because he does. He brings a faintly trembling hand to the back of Dean's neck to keep him from pulling away - and, more, to keep himself from doing the same. "Dean, I never anticipated this. This is frightening to me. My heart is-"

Cas presses Dean's hand, still linked with his, to his chest, showing him the dizzying speed of its beating. Then he laughs, faintly, at having dropped another sentence:

"I think I left all my words in the dungeon."

Dean answers with a swift smile, his gaze radiating pure affection. He brings their hands to his own chest, where his heart beats just as fast. Dean kisses him, then, on his left eyebrow, then the cheek when Cas looks back at him.

"Dean," Cas says, half-warning, half-encouragement when Dean ducks around to kiss the ridge of his ear, and then "Dean..." in a half-moan when his teeth catch his throat.

Undeterred, Dean kisses whatever point of Cas’s face that strikes his fancy, rendering Cas a trembling mess before their lips even connect (which they do only when Cas holds Dean still and kisses him himself. The noise Dean makes is almost a laugh, and Cas will remember it for the rest of his life).

It's only a few minutes, though, before Cas has to stop. He's progressed from trembling to shaking, and the pleasant tingling across his limbs had turned sharply into pins-and-needles.

"I'm sorry," Cas says on an inhale, pulling away from Dean, and clarifies quickly, "I don't think I'm ready for this. It makes me too happy. I'm afraid. I can't lose you again."

Dean is tender with him, brushing Cas’s cheek soothingly with his thumb. His mouth and jaw work, and this time he gets out a "Ss", and then a "Shh".

He keeps on shushing as he wraps Cas back up in a hug, tight enough that all the rattling parts of Cas feel like they're slowly compressed back into his body. Dean breathes deeply and deliberately, and Cas copies him, noticing for the first time the room's stale-sweat-stink, and the familiar scent of second-hand gasoline in Dean's hair. It takes time, but eventually Cas is able to clutch at Dean too, which earns him an extra squeeze around his ribs.

"I love you," Cas says, and it feels too loud for the room, so he whispers it instead, "I love you, Dean."

Dean buries his face into Cas’s shoulder, in what could be charitably imagined as a nod. Neither of them says another word for the whole night.

They're both terrified of what they want to give - terrified of happiness. But in that awful, devestating, harrowing joy is the glimmer of what is going to get them through it: always, always hope.

[gayeddieagenda]

Hii! Ooo for the director’s cut thing, for Here’s my hand fic?? Unless you’d rather talk about one specific part!

fic director's commentary ask

thank u for asking! here's my hand, there's the itch is one of my fave fics i've written - i think kaitlin once said that it was the most e fic ever, which, true. i'm a sucker for fic about phone calls (emails, texts, whatever) - i love stories that take place at a distance. even before eddie in texas was real, i was obsessed w/ the idea.

i don't actually think i intended to write this fic! i had a couple other 'eddie-in-texas' fics in my drafts that were all a little longer and more involved and then i just ended up falling into writing this instead. i've talked a little about my drafting process before, but i write pretty severely out of order, so it's always interesting to go back and see what the very first thing i wrote was. for this one, the first two things i wrote were (pretty much verbatim) the dialogue that became “Sometimes, Buck. I think, with us. We know each other so well. We let each other get away with not talking about the things we really need to," and then the buck narration lines: "Want is a slow wave, with Eddie. Buck has been riding it for a long, long time."

those became some of my fave lines of the whole fic and it's so funny to me that they were also basically the very first things i wrote! writing--writing cohesively, writing full fics, getting more than just disconnected sentences to actually come together--can be such a struggle for me, but this fic was /easy/. u can tell from my google docs too: nearly every fic i write has, bare minimum, two google docs and a notes app. i start ideating in the notes app, i shift into a google doc when it gets serious, and then i open up a fresh doc for actual drafting from the beginning. here's my hand went straight from notes app -> final draft.

because it was really just went from idea to final, there's not a lot i ended up cutting. there was more in my initial outline about buck worrying about eddie that whole summer without chris. there was also more about how eddie's been flirting with buck for like 2 months, lmao. a part i reallyyyy liked and then cut was a moment where buck is like, should we be talking about this right now? bc it's been a rough summer. chris is about to come home. it freaks buck out, to try to step into something new between the two of them at a moment when it feels like soo much is going on. and eddie just kind of answered 'i'd like to.'

that's a beat ive been thinking a lot about trying to hit in some other fics i'm working on right now - when eddie ends up being the one to come to actually making a move between them more easily, and buck is the one who's scared or resistant. i think it makes a lot of sense for buck's character: he's scared of change! he's scared of loss. he's clearlyyyy putting up a lot of walls btwn himself and the depth of what he feels for eddie right now. it's a beat i want to circle back to, but it just didn't end up totally fitting here.

the last thing i'll say is that i'm sooo relieved when i get positive feedback on my convoluted-ass fics that jump around thru memories. i keep writing the same structure of fic - single scene (usually a get-together) that bounces back thru past moments or scenes between them leading up to this moment - and /i/ love it, but sometimes striking the balance between the present and flashbacks can be a little bit of a negotiation. but i literally love to write like that so i will not stop <3 <3 <3

[spiritsglade]

for that dvd commentary ask thing, from the latest fic!!

He knows how he managed it, this time, but it still doesn't feel real. His limbs are numb and he can barely hear the clack of the teeth in his mouth, clattering against each other. The winter air burns in his lungs and with every breath it's like he can feel his body a little less.

He looks up at the stars. He thinks maybe if he knew the constellations, he'd have figured it out earlier. They move throughout the year, don't they?

So what if he doesn't know? What if he died again? He's alive now, Bruce is coming, and the sky above is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

for context, this is about my fic redux.

i wrote the first draft of this entire fic on the notes app of my phone at a christmas house party thing on… i want to say the 21st? i was very close to deleting the entire second half of the fic after the divider, and ending the first on something similar to that last little line ("the sky above is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.") the only reason i kept it was literally just because i already shoved too many immortal jason todd foreshadowing bits into the first half and having them there without any payoff felt silly. but it was supposed no bruce, no batfam at all!! because the core of what i wanted to communicate with the fic was really captured in an earlier line: "He doesn't remember this part last time, the part where he's here and alive and the world feels impossibly open." [yes i was heavily considering cutting the superhero rpf. i will gladly kill my darlings!! (unfortunately this is a lie, seeing as i caved in the end.)]

because last time breaking out of the grave was only the beginning of jason todd's journey through hell. the hospital, the convalescent home, the streets, league training lazarus pit etc. there's a very frenetic energy to his first resurrection? he keeps going and going and going. time keeps slipping by he's catatonic and then he's fueled by rage, the entire timeline is filled in from retrospect. when under the hood first came out, it did not fucking matter how he came back to life, it only mattered that he came back (and came back wrong). which is to say, jason never got the chance to just. revel in being alive again? we're too busy playing out his revenge tragedy. he never had a moment where he could appreciate everything being alive offers that the nothingness of death does not. zero opportunity to sit and breathe. and i wanted to give him that.

that was, at conception, the point of the fic. i feel like it's a little weakened because now instead it's about bruce fucking wayne again but whatever i'll get over it.

okay a break down of the lines:

He knows how he managed it, this time, but it still doesn't feel real.

i'm gonna be for real, this is here because him being able to break out of a professional, expensive hardwood coffin six feet under while it's RAINING and he has FRESH injuries from the crowbar + explosion? literally fucking impossible. realistically he would have asphyxiated in there again within an hour and superboy punching the universe would have changed absolutely nothing. jason doesn't know how he managed to crawl out of his grave last time. the author doesn't know, either. but it makes sense how he managed it this time!!! i did my research!!

it does not feel real because it's still taking him time to process that he died again + probably the hypothermia's playing a part in that.

His limbs are numb and he can barely hear the clack of the teeth in his mouth, clattering against each other. The winter air burns in his lungs and with every breath it's like he can feel his body a little less.

Just descriptions of him being cold <3 and dying of hypothermia <3 i really enjoy descriptive writing. i probably could have edited it further to improve the flow of the sentences but. yeagh. cold air hurts my throat so bad it's upsetting.

He looks up at the stars. He thinks maybe if he knew the constellations, he'd have figured it out earlier. They move throughout the year, don't they?

jason does not know his constellations propaganda. i just think this city boy should get to witness the sky a little more often!! i don't know if you've seen those photos of how the sky looks with zero light pollution. personally, i will believe that's how it looks when i see it with my own two eyes. in the meantime, even my suburban hell has a pretty sky that is leagues better than what you'd get in pollution central.

So what if he doesn't know? What if he died again? He's alive now, Bruce is coming, and the sky above is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

this is feeding back into the original point of the fic. he wasn't alive before, sure but he is now!! live in the moment and appreciate it!

bruce is coming because i cannot fucking escape this asshole. if i write about jason he's always there hovering on the peripheral until i am forced to acknowledge him.

(sidenote: this is why he and jason have a face to face meeting in lies of omission ch.7 instead of the original plan, which would have saved any sort of confrontation between them for chapter like… 20. bruce just demands space. he's so annoying. go away.)

anyway this fic is pro-batfam and pro-bruce, which means! bruce coming is a good thing! it's a change to the ending of his death [bruce was too late] and his first resurrection [all the near misses that prevented bruce from finding him]. like in some ways this is meant to be an opposite thesis to then batman kills his son. if you squint. this time bruce will be here when jason needs him!!

i could not fit it in easily so i gave up, but bruce here has been forcibly benched in the cave, stuck running comms, due to injury. that's why it takes him all of 2 seconds to get on a batplane directly to jason's location.

and again stars are pretty propaganda. like guys i am so serious go out and look at the sky. i am an unironic 'do you like the color of the sky' post liker. i like that post so fucking much. you don't understand. the sky. guys. it can be blue and orange and pink and yellow and the stars and there are so many different kinds of clouds i don't think you understand how gorgeous it can be and and- gets shot

anyway.

this fic is a second resurrection for jason, one that is different from the first in every way that matters.

bruce wayne also had a support system this time so he didn't fall the fuck apart like the last time jason died <3 i didn't really have an exact figure in mind for how long jason's been dead but it's somewhere between 3-6 months. from their perspective, he straight up disappeared after a fight, so there's this weird mix of thinking he's dead but holding out hope that he'll come back. the grief is still very much present but they've managed to hold themselves together because they have each other! waves my hands around vaguely can you see where the title came from.

hm. in conclusion. being alive is pretty awesome. i recommend.

[merionettes]

part 1 of how rubicon got written is here. this is part 2, aka the essay about etc.

the thing about the storyboarding/drafting process that there is no way to describe is how totally obsessed i was for the duration. afterwards i tweeted something like, this is the closest i've ever experienced to demonic possession. i would get up, write all day—like, all day—and go to bed. turn off the lights. then i would just lie wide awake in the dark with lines and scenes and dialogue scrolling through my head until i gave in and opened my notes app. i could not turn it off even if i wanted to. and i didn't want to, i was riding that streak as far as it would take me. because i couldn't look down, right? i could sense what i was attempting to do and anything other than total tunnel vision full speed ahead eyes on the prize would mean i had to acknowledge it.

(context of what made this possible: i was unemployed at the time.)

for the first ~50k or so i was afraid that at any minute i could falter. when i got to the nationals meltdown, that was when i knew i could do it. like, no matter what happened after that, i had the willpower and the chops and i knew where i was going. even if the streak died.

but it didn't. i wrote 100k in a little under 4 weeks. i've never experienced anything like that in my creative life. 

—then obviously i had to get a new job and come back down to earth and it took 21 months to get from there to posting the epilogue. still. i will probably be chasing that high for the rest of my life. that was the part that like… made the rest of it possible. no matter how difficult or frustrating it was. that generated the roadmap. 

i've talked about this before in comments but i had insanely strong opinions about what was "right" and what wasn't. sylvain's narrative voice was a huge part of that. it's inextricable from the content; it shaped the story; it is the story. for the first couple months it also made me an unhinged stylistic tyrant. if there was one single unnecessary word that struck me as inorganic, as existing solely to make the sentence more digestible or to convey information beyond the fourth wall, it had to go. i could not rest until it did. 

once again: this is not generally the relationship i have with writing. lol. it's the demonic possession talking. this is why you have a ton of sentence fragments and stylistic tics and a refusal to let one single shred of information into the text that did not strike me as something sylvain would plausibly think or acknowledge he was thinking. and like, yeah. probably it didn't always make for the smoothest reading experience or the most satisfying narrative development. i'm dead certain there are people who picked this fic up and the bumps drove them out of their mind until they threw in the towel. i just didn't care. 

part of that was a reaction to my own old style—you know, the discomfort of shedding old skin. i'd look at those early scene attempts and see all the habits and crutches i'd been trying to move away from over the last two years and double down on The Voice. but part of it… i would get early feedback that wasn't at all wrong, like "what if [clarifying narration]," "what if [more interaction]," and i'd just think, but that's not true. in exactly those words! which is crazy.

(this is why it was fortunate this was fanfiction i was writing for free, i didn't have to compromise my bonkers experience any more than i wanted to.)

to be clear this feeling didn't last two years. i was eventually able to edit like a normal person. it did last probably longer than ideal. and the point when i was no longer running on unleaded creative adrenaline was when i started to really struggle with the middle of the story. i had to make choices as a writer, instead of relying on the purity of my divine vision or whatever, and i second-guessed myself a lot. it was much easier to feel that absolute bone-deep certainty of Right and Wrong, True and False. and the thought of fucking up when i'd gotten so far was unbearable—like, being so close to making the thing in my head reality and then dropping the ball and breaking the suspension of disbelief.

distance also made it possible to perceive what i was doing and be like, jesus mer what the fuck are you doing. why are you devoting so much of your time to a hobby, why are you investing so much of your life in something you will never be able to truly share, why are you living in a hole with no one else in it. why are you putting yourself through the wringer to get it down "right." why does it matter if it's as good as it can be. why do you care. why is this worth it.

i assume this was pretty obvious before this post, but if not it must be now. this story isn't really about figure skating. for me it's about writing; who knows what it's about for you. i didn't sit down and think, great, felix will be a metaphor. that's just how it happens. 

the experience of writing a novel for the first time: i'm saying this with my whole chest because at one point i wouldn't have, aloud. but what's the point in calling it anything else? i know exactly how much i invested in this. i'm the only one who can know. that's sort of the point. 

here's a giant collage of the inside of my head. i made it for myself and i take it very seriously. not exactly groundbreaking to say this is the ultimate exercise in solipsism. when you're doing that—what greater gift is there than to have someone else meet you in exactly the same place. any writer would kill for the kind of responses this story has gotten, and i don't mean praise. i mean the close reads, the free response essays, the total and complete validation that this thing inside your head that only you can see is real, actually. when i say thank you, it's not for liking it or praising it—it's for taking it seriously. i loved this thing. i still love this thing. thank you for taking it seriously.

[elisabethbgrace]

number one; on journaling and the fear of being perceived

dearest stranger, auto-biographical writing has always been something I've craved; an outlet for my million-thought-a-minute mind. When I was younger, I tried to keep journals in A4 Warwick exercise books, the only free paper my family had on hand – but it never felt quite right. When I was 14, with my first pay cheque in hand and a little more optimism, I indulged in envelopes and stickers and pearlescent paper. I thought if I made the entire ordeal more romantic, it would be easier to maintain on the regular. This did work for a while, I wrote maybe 10 letters to my future self over the span of 3 months. But, like most hobbies of mine, it slowly drifted out of my routine until it was nothing but an afterthought. Soon after that came the novelty stationery: a seemingly fixed gift in my Christmas and birthday registries. Time and time again I would be gifted these beautiful notebooks, with glittery covers or leather embossed with goldleaf lettering. I would pick the smoothest ballpoint pen, sit at my lamp-lit desk, and try my best to make my chicken scratch legible as I wrote the first entry. This is it. I'd tell myself, this is when I finally start keeping a journal. But now all I have are boxes full of notebooks with exactly one entry each, all of them the same introductory rhetoric. The problem I had with all of these mediums was that I was far too performative. I would spend too much time worrying what people would think instead of just writing. Though I had countless interesting anecdotes from my youth that certainly would have made an impressive journal, I would instead pen some pseudo-philosophical bullshit in a voice that wasn't my own. I imagined myself as the next Anne Frank (a statement that's definitely problematic in so many ways). And I would picture my journals being published in the future, a cursive tagline scrawled across the cover, 'A look into the adolescent mind of beloved author, Elisabeth Grace - genius of her generation'. Humility was never my forte. My fear of judgement, my inherent longing to be seen as something more than myself, caused me to burn out whenever I tried to write in a letter, journal or diary. As a result, I never got practice, and could never be satisfied with my skill set. Creating an indefinite loop of dissatisfaction every time I tried to put pen to paper. Though, even through these hardships writing, I found one spot I could always pour out my heart and soul – a sacred, glistening oasis of hope in the parched desert that is my mind. The notes app. Here, I could write whatever and whenever I wanted. I could meditate on my life problems, write shitty poems about pebbles, draft messages to my boss, and lament in a love letter that would never be sent. I could ramble, ponder, rant, be stupid, be silly and, most importantly, be myself. Without the fear of it ever being read or seen, there were zero expectations. It was a heaven-sent miracle. But as I move through my second year of university, and the deadline for my creative-writing portfolio draws closer, I find myself stuck. I've never had a problem with writing creative fiction before. I was a prolific fanfic author, and even now I'm constantly writing short stories and snippets of novels. However, despite being known amongst family and friends as 'the writer', no one has actually seen any of my work. I've always written purely for my own, self-serving enjoyment. I can look at my works and conclude that sure, they're good, but is that my own bias telling me so? And is it good enough to get into a limited-entry course? I'm terrified to show anyone in my personal life any of my writing, let alone an academic that's proficient in the art. What if I'm not as good at it as everyone expects? What if my entire degree is pointless, and I can never pursue the career I so desperately crave? And so I sit, my fingers hovering over the keyboard, every idea and article seeming insignificant compared to my own anxiety. Paralyzed.

That's why I've created this blog. Somehow sharing bits of my mind with the void that is the internet is much less scary than sharing it with anyone in my personal life. I need an outlet that can ease me into sharing my work. An outlet that is authentic to me, and my experiences. As I write this, I glance around my messy room, with dirty clothes strewn across the floor and two night tables littered with too many mugs – I've come to the (probably obvious) realization that I will never be the type of person to have stacks of journals written in cursive. I will never have neatly organized letters, or an impressive scrapbook full of curated collages. Instead I have my notes app – and now, a blog. A blog where I can post anything I want, and write whatever entries I please. Vomit a thousand words onto a page, all within the eyeline of a thousand witnesses. It's a frightening concept, but one that's also oddly comforting. This is the first step in my journey to live without shame. Yours Truly, E.B.G. ₍^. .^₎⟆

[loverducky]

i have some qs from the ask game you reblogged, if you don't mind answering!!!

o(≧▽≦)o : which fandom(s) are you most involved in? which character(s) have you written the most for?

(ノωヽ) : what do you use to write – paper and pen? in your notes app? gdocs or ellipsus? directly in your tumblr drafts?

helloooo nonny! i think you're my first anon on this blog :0 so congrats on that honor and also thank you for the questions :3

as far as fandoms i'm most involved in, i honestly? don't participate too much in wider fandom anymore? i'm very locked in (hehe) on blue lock and jjk right now, but most of my interactions are restrained to my little mutual bubble and mutuals-of-mutuals haha. i did used to participate wayyy more with the bnha fandom (rip my quarantine longfic that's still floating around out there...) but i'm still a little burned out on it (i'm so sorry keigo... birds of a feather will get more lore some day). i think as far as characters go, it's a toss up between oliver and mahito, but i think it goes to mahito solely because i wrote like a full essay on why i like his character LMAO

as far as what i use to write: depends! a lot of times i will straight up write in tumblr drafts because i like knowing how things are going to look when i post them, but i've got some ideas stored in google docs and i have definitely used ellipsus before (i really should use it more tbh). the paper and pen option is Really funny to me though because i have, in fact, written a draft of a mahito x reader in class instead of taking down notes. the grind never stops >:3 (free me)

[smaller-comfort]

⭐! Loser Takes All!

You know, I think if someone else had already written the filthy Aephorul/Resh'an tentacle smut I was craving back when I first finished the game, I might not have felt the need to write my own. I hadn't done any serious creative writing in years at that point, but the idea kept rolling around in my head and wouldn't go away. I wrote the first 2500 words of it in a draft tumblr post because typing anything in my notes app or google docs felt too real, and I had to trick my brain into thinking I wasn't actually writing anything in order to get any writing done.

It was always going to start with Aephorul's temper tantrum in the Archives, but at one point Aephorul's violence was going to take the sex in a much darker direction. That got scrapped pretty quickly, and instead there's that whole interlude where Aephorul is insistent on Resh'an's consent. I actually do think that's an important bit of characterization now, but I recognize that it might be a little immersion-breaking in some ways. And it's really in there because otherwise I was going to run up against a bunch of my own weirdly specific squicks around sex and violence. (Maybe I'll unpack that in an essay about content warnings at some point, idk. I'm not always sure where the lines are myself, honestly.)

I didn't end up cutting much from the final story- I think I deleted most of what I didn't use, unfortunately. (Fun fact, I had originally scrapped the sounding because I was getting self conscious about it; this was my first time writing...pretty much all of the kinks in there, actually. It's @kyoukhi's fault the sounding got written back in.)

You can see the tiny handful of bits I did cut here (nsfw-ish):

(This bit is actually in my notes on the tumblr post where I link to the story. Their stupid bickering is 99% of the appeal for me, honestly.)

“An eye for an eye, isn't it? You fucked my plans in two worlds. Now I get to fuck you."

It's too much. He breaks one hand free of Aephorul's grasp, so he can cover his face with it.  “That sounded better in your head, didn't it.”

“...oh, shut up.”

----

His mouth is dry. He feels too hot, as if Aephorul's hand on his bare skin has lit a fever in him. It has been countless thousands of years since he has felt anything like this, and it is awful.

He knows that he can, actually, come from this- endless, merciless teasing- he's done it before. But it had taken weeks to get to that point, and he is not going to think about the stupid sexy games they used to play with each other before everything went to shit.

--

(I think this was actually the first bit of the sex that I wrote.)

"You're such. A. Hypocrite. Play by the rules until you can't be bothered, and then you agree so readily to whatever forfeit I want- it's almost like you enjoy this."

"Should I not?" He asks, drily. It takes quite a lot of self control to keep his voice even, while Aephorul's cock- or whatever it is- twitches. "Probably should have mentioned that at the start then- ah!"

---

(the gist of this bit is actually getting reused in Save Scum, but this is what it originally looked like):

“Do you remember-”

“No.” The word comes out in a sudden, vehement snarl.

Everything stops, which is agonizing in its own way.  His feet touch the ground, and the bindings on his arms recede. Aephorul holds him in a carefully controlled collapse to the floor.

“No,” he repeats. His eyes are still sealed shut.  “Not- not to this." He trails one hand down the nearest piece of flesh he can reach. "This is fine.”

“Is it?” Hands- tentacles, whatever- wrap around Resh'an's shoulders, massaging the aching muscles there. 

“Yes,” slightly exasperated. “Just don't- don't bring up- the way things were. Don't ask me to remember.”

“Very well.” Aephorul's voice is flat and emotionless.

[dinoswordsb]

Hii

Just read ur moon hunting poem!!! I really really liked it. Would u be willing to share a bit more about it? Like the process of coming up with/working on it, inspiration, what meanings u attribute to it? I'd just really enjoy hearing more!! Thank u for writing it and for sharing it!!

Hihi sorry this took so long to get to haha

I did write a little bit about all that in the notes somewhere as a reply to someone asking the same thing, but there are a few things I didn't mention bc I didn't think they were important so I can get into that here ^^ Thank YOU for the ask and also enjoying my little piece of writing <3!

Sooo first off I do have to say, as always, that this poem was written about a character that my friend ( @stjeromeshospital ) made. You can go look at cool pictures of him over there his name is elliot prague :) This ended up being pretty long so I'm gonna put the actual deets under a read more *thumbs up

I will say this may come as a shock but the original scope of this poem was I wrote it about a couple of characters that started in a minecraft smp with some friends and they quickly grew beyond that....which is crazy to look back on. I wrote this poem for the other players to find in a book!!! and then posted it on tumblr and it got 12k notes which makes my head spin honestly. I never imagined that something I would make would ever touch so many people.

The poem itself is about a year old now, so the details of coming up with it are fuzzy, but from what I remember:

I was at work during a slow hour or two thinking about a poem my character could write for the others to find. I wanted to write something about his best friend/lover. Hunting is a prominent theme with this character, as well as feeling secondary to an older sibling, so I knew I wanted to incorporate that.

Two major images in this poem are inspired by music! Specifically there were a couple songs that I was listening to at the time that had lines that really stuck out to me. One being "Shot the moon down in a parking lot" from KW by The Accidentals, the other being September by Sparky Deathcap. The latter was more of an insp than the former overall, but I really can't NOT mention it bc it was the crux of the entire image of the moon being something TO shoot down. But as for September, the entire fourth verse was the part that really stayed with me. In particular, "The way the skin splits 'round his bones," as well as "the mud and the blood in the grass" is pretty much the direct cause behind the image of the moon turning everything white when it crashes. I wanted to imagine what that would look like, since you know, it doesn't have blood to spill or bones to splinter. So I settled on a powder. It felt haunting to me lol...I also love the way the song starts out so gentle and suddenly escalates into that climax; it really is a beautiful piece of music, and I wanted to mimic that sort of structure in my poem. I like to think I managed.

The list format is something everyone likes to praise, and I think the only reason I tried that out was because I wanted to challenge myself. I had been thinking about writing a piece for the minecraft server that was a book that was a step by step guide on how to butcher something from the characters' home world. But I used that here instead.

I also remember that I was at work when I wrote the original draft of this hwkhkgshkdh the first lines popped into my head and I didnt want to lose them so I remember specifically running to the bathroom and whipping my phone out to type them out in my notes app which is really funny in retrospect because I cannot emphasize enough how frantic i was to get it down on paper or somethign so I wouldn't forget and I didnt want to get fired for having my phone out LOL. I finished the rest of it that afternoon after I got home.

I deliberately made 32 main lines because the character this is written about is 32!

Cicadas are screaming, the phrase destruction itself, and stars are crying because in the world these characters are from they have no concept of god and angels, at least not the way we do. I enjoyed writing around that, because it was a challenge for me personally

And finally I really specifically wanted to try to capture the feeling of grief. Grief wherein you try to prove yourself but end up just ruining things, or making them worse, or really just fuck up in a way that feels like the world is ending. You want to be seen and maybe you are but not in the way you want. And sometimes it feels like this is just all you're capable of. I wanted to try and capture that because that is such a raw feeling of helplessness. But art is in the eye of the beholder so even though this is what I wrote about, I do love hearing what people attach to it when they read it :]

Theres a lot more I could point out about the inner workings of this poem, but they require a lot of context that just isnt available because I never post about the characters that are mine and afaik my buddy only really posts pictures about theirs and not writing.