#just something to encourage those seeing this

[liliavanrougelover]

The five love languages

Summary: The TWST boys top two (2) love languages.

Characters: All NRC student (-Ortho)

Warning(s): Nothing graphic but passing mention of murder and blood in Rook's

A/N: I learned that bats purr and had to add it to Lilia's section.

Riddle Rosehearts

Words of affirmation:

Riddle loves being praised. And I mean LOVES. Everytime you commend him for something, he falls in love with you just a little more. And it could be the most simple thing in the world. Washing dishes, making tea, making a tart, getting a good test grade. Anything. The moment a single praise falls from your lips, he’s as red as a strawberry. He’s not used to being affirmed, so when you come into his life and start complimenting him for every good thing he does, he can’t help but feel better than he’s ever felt. He yearns to hear your praise at least once a day.

Quality time:

He loves being in your presence. No matter what. Whether you’re talking or just sitting in silence together, he feels loved. Just knowing that you’re there with him is enough for him. The moments he values the most is when you and him are just silently sitting in his room together. He’s sitting at his desk studying and you’re doing something else. No words need to be said. And if you’re observant enough, you’ll notice the way he occasionally glances at you and softly smiles.

Trey Clover

Quality time:

He loves spending time with you. Simply just being in the same room. His favorite times is when he’s teaching you how to bake. Everyone loves talking about the things they like and Trey is no different. He also just loves baking for you. Making a tart while you sit in the kitchen with him. Your presence is a blessing to him.

Acts of service:

Trey is busy really often. As the vice housewarden, he is almost just as busy as Riddle. So if you did one of his tasks for him, he is so grateful. He loves knowing that you care about him and are taking your time to lighten his load even by a little.

Cater Diamond

Gift giving:

Cater loves getting gifts from you. Especially when it’s something he really wanted. If he mentions wanting something and then you give it to him the next day, he’s swooning. You listened to him and got exactly what he wanted. He’s going to make at least ten posts about it. He also loves giving gifts to you. He’ll take hours picking out the perfect gift to get and- if he can’t decide- might get you multiple gifts.

Physical touch:

Loves, loves, LOVES, physical touch. He loves holding your hand, hugging you, kissing you, and so on. Being able to just touch you is like a dream to him. It’s also a great reminder that you’re there. And when you initiate, he loses his mind. You love him too! Has posted multiple pictures of you two holding hands. If pictures were a love language, that would be his primary one.

Ace Trappola

Physical touch:

He loves touching you. His favorite form of physical touch is laying on top of you. It doesn’t matter if you’re laying on your back, stomach, or side he’s going to flop himself on top of you. And when he’s tired, he’ll find you and drape himself over your shoulders. He’ll stay like that until you agree to cuddle with him.

Acts of service:

He doesn’t do that much. But Riddle does give him work to do around the dorm like everyone else. Ace, however, doesn’t like doing chores (shocking). So if you take it upon yourself to do those chores for him, he’ll be so grateful. He’ll tell you that you saved his life. He’s just very happy that you did his work for him. He loves you.

Deuce Spade

Quality time:

He loves being in the same room as you. Being able to see you and know that you’re his. He can just kiss you at any moment and that’s a very nice thought to him. Watching a movie, studying or just sitting next to each other. No matter what you’re doing, he’s just glad to be with you.

Words of affirmation:

Call him smart. He loves when you call him smart, or when you encourage him to be less of a delinquent. He loves knowing that you believe in him. And he also loves knowing you love him, so make sure to remind him about that. He can’t get enough of your praise. It’s also why he likes your voice so much.

Leona Kingscholar

Physical touch:

He’s a cuddly lion boy. He’s touching you any chance he gets. Cuddling you, arm wrapped around your shoulder or waist, holding hands, kissing. Anything where he can have his hands on you really. He’s a lion and lions are very cuddly. Plus he’s warm.

Acts of service:

Leona doesn’t do much. He doesn’t feel motivated to do much. So when you do those things for him, it’s nice. He comes back to his room after being dragged to class and he sees you made his bed, or you hand him the lunch you made for him before he goes to class. It’s nice to know that someone cares enough to take care of him without expecting to be paid.

Ruggie Bucchi

Gift giving:

He’s saving more than he’s ever saved before. He’s going to work as hard as he can to buy you anything you want. No matter how expensive or rare, he’s working as hard as he needs to so he can get it for you. He even starts saving his food money to buy food for you as well. If you care about his wallet, proceed with caution before you mention wanting something to him. He’s mostly against you paying him back for the gifts, but if you insist, he’ll accept.

Acts of service:

He’s cleaning your room, making you food, doing the grocery shopping. He’ll even do your homework if you want him to. And he won’t make you pay for most of it, isn’t he so generous? It’s not a big deal to him. He does it everyday, so why not do it for you. And if you do something for him? He melts (after making sure you don’t want payment).

Jack Howl

Physical touch:

He won’t tell you, but he loves when you touch him. If you intertwine your fingers with his, wrap your arms around him, or kiss his cheek, he’s feeling euphoric. It’s so simple but it means so much to him. If you want to see him blush or watch his tail wag a mile a minute, just brush your hand against his. He’s like a little puppy.

Quality time:

He just loves being around you. His favorite times are when he’s showing you his cacti or showing off his muscles to you. He’s just ranting about his cacti to you and fun cacti facts. Or he’s bench-pressing you to show just how strong he is and listens to you marvel at his strength.

Azul Ashengrotto

Words of affirmation:

He loves listening to you praise him. And even if he pretends to be confident, he’s secretly losing his shit after every compliment. You call him smart, and he says he knows, but internally he’s freaking out. The only compliments that he’ll outwardly react to are the ones about his appearance. He blushes brightly and pauses in his work. And if you look a little closer you’ll see the small smile on his face.

Physical affection:

This boy needs to know that you don’t find him disgusting. He still replays the insults from when he was a kid. So when you hold him in your arms without hesitation or a hint of disgust, he melts into your arms and lets himself relax. And if you murmur compliments into his ear, he’s putty in your hands. Down bad.

Jade Leech

Physical touch:

He secretly craves your touch, but he would never let you know that. When you initiate, he will tease you about it, but if you’re observant enough, you’ll catch the way he relaxes into your touch. And when he initiates, it’s always in private. He never initiates PDA, he’ll only be vulnerable with you in the privacy of your or his room.

Acts of service:

He’s one hell of a butler, after all. His job is literally to do whatever Azul tells him, and now he’s doing that for you. Does he want something in return? You’ll figure that out eventually. If you do start doing things for him, he won’t stop you. He finds it sweet, and it is nice to have less work to do.

Floyd Leech

Physical touch:

Pretty obvious. He squeezes you. He squeezes everybody, but you're his favorite to squeeze. He will drape himself over your shoulder, drop his head in your lap, grab your hand, kiss you, and of course, squeeze you. And you have to let him, you're his shrimpy, after all.

Gift giving:

He will give you random objects that he found. Shiny coins or rocks, sticks, flowers, not shiny rocks. He finds something and just goes “good enough” and gives it to you. Does he expect something out of it? Yes, definitely, absolutely. But he also just wants to show his love to you. And when you start gifting him back, he’ll be so excited that you’re reciprocating.

Kalim Al-Asim

Gift giving:

He’s rich. He knows this, so he’ll buy you anything you want. To him money is an object that can buy you anything you desire. If your gaze lingers on something for a second too long, it’s yours. He’ll also buy you jewelry to match him to show that you two are dating. And when you buy him something, he gets so happy. It doesn’t matter what it is, it came from you so he cherishes it forever.

Physical touch:

He will jump on you any chance he gets. It doesn’t matter where you are or what you’re doing, he will hug and kiss you. He could be in the middle of something really important, but will stop just to give you a kiss. He’ll rest his head on your shoulder in class and will even hug you when you do something cute (he gets scolded for it).

Jamil Viper

Acts of service:

He loves when you do things for him. For most of his life, he was forced to do things for other people so having someone take care of him for a change is nice. He also likes taking care of you. He gets to choose who he takes care of now, and it’s going to be you. But he definitely prefers receiving rather than giving.

Quality time:

He loves spending time with you. Just sitting near you makes him so blissful. He’ll invite you to the parties at Scarabia, ask you to help him cook, and offer to help you study. Anything to get you to be near him. He’ll never tell you, but it’s very obvious that he’s just trying to be near you as much as he can.

Vil Schoenheit

Words of affirmation:

Vil knows he looks good, and he appreciates knowing that you know that too. However, he prefers giving rather than receiving. He will always tell you how attractive you look, how smart you are, how charming you are. He knows how terrible insecurity is and he never wants his partner to experience that. So he’ll make sure you know just how great you are.

Quality time:

He loves spending time with you. Whether that be shopping, doing makeup, at home spa dates, or testing out smudge free lipstick. He just loves being around you. Especially after a particularly busy day. He loves unwinding with you in the privacy of his room. It doesn’t matter what you two are doing as long as you’re doing it together.

Rook Hunt

Words of affirmation:

Rook is a man of many words. He’s always praising others for everything they do and that goes tenfold for his partner. There’s not a moment when he isn’t singing your praises. He’ll even tell other people just how great you are. It’s rare to not have him following you and waxing poetic about all the things he loves about you. Can you blame him? He has so much love and he needs you to know just how lovely you are.

Acts of service:

He will do anything you ask him to. You could ask him to kill a man and he’s already cleaning the blood off his clothes. He’s the guy who believes that actions are just as loud as words. He already tells you how much he loves you so now he’s going to show you. Careful what you say around him, because he will do anything you want. Anything.

Epel Felmier

Words of affirmation:

He loves when you call him strong and manly. He will carry heavy things just to hear you compliment his strength. He also likes hearing you call him handsome because he sees it as more masculine. He also loves telling you how attractive you are and how much he loves you. He isn’t as eloquent about it as Vil or Rook might be, but it’s very him and therefore very romantic.

Quality time:

Loves spending time with you. He likes walking you to your classes or dorm because it’s more time he can spend with you. He will love it if you offer to walk him to spelldrive practice and especially if you stay and watch. He just likes spending time with you and appreciates if you make an attempt to spend time with him too.

Idia Shroud

Words of affirmation:

Loser boy needs to be assured that he’s loved. He needs to know that you love him. He could listen to you praise him all day. Hearing that you don’t think he’s a loser makes his day. Or at least, that you don’t mind him being a loser. He also loves when you hype him up while he’s playing video. He just loves when you praise him.

Quality time:

Video games. He loves playing video games with you. You’re his player two after all. He’ll invite you over to play video games, watch anime, or just rant like a dork (affectionate). He just loves spending time with you and involving you in the things he does. And if you do the same, he’ll fall in love with you a lot more.

Malleus Draconia

Gift giving:

He is always giving you things. Specifically shiny things. Nocturnal fae courting rituals include gift giving. Therefore, he’s just courting you. If you do give him gifts back, he just assumes you’re married. You give him a shiny rock you found and he’s just like “Ok, I’m your husband now.” But he never stops gifting you. He can’t let the love die.

Physical touch:

He loves cuddling with you. He loves any sort of touch, but specifically cuddling. Whenever he’s near you in public, he has his tail wrapped around your waist in a protective manner. Nobody will hurt you if they know you’re his. He will also hold your hand as a way to further cement your position as his partner.

Lilia Vanrouge

Gift giving:

He will gift you the most random things. Even things you, most likely, don’t want. You complain about a bunch of rats in Ramshackle and the next morning, there’s a bundle of dead rats on your doorstep. Bat’s also gift food to their mates. I’m sure you can see where this is going. Good luck.

Physical touch:

Bat’s are very cuddly and as a bat fae, Lilia is no different. He has no concept of personal space. You’re doing anything and he’s tucking himself under your arm without a care. And he’s purring while he’s there. And if you stroke his head or play with his hair, the purrs get louder than you would think possible.

Silver Vanrouge

Quality time:

He loves spending time with you doing anything. He does feel bad, because he’ll sometimes doze off. Please wake him up when he does, he wants to spend time with you. He likes going on walks the most because it keeps him awake. He also does whatever you want. He wants you to have fun with him.

Acts of service:

He likes doing things for you. It doesn’t matter what it is, he’ll do it. Just tell him something you don’t want to do, and he’s doing it for you. He wants to lighten your load even if it’s just by a little. And if you do something for him, he’ll be grateful. He doesn’t need you to do anything for him, but he’s not going to be upset about it.

Sebek Zigvolt

Words of affirmation:

He’s very vocal about how much he loves you. He would scream about it from the rooftops, and probably has. He tells you he loves you one time and now everyone knows. And when you reciprocate, he practically combusts into flames. His face is super red and he’s stumbling over his words. It happens so much that he thinks you’re casting a spell on him every time.

Acts of service:

He’ll find time to do things for you. Yes, he does things for Malleus, and now he’ll squeeze in time to do things for you. But, oh, if you do things for him. You ask Lilia or Malleus about an errand he has to run and then do it for him. He finds out and his pride is bruised but at the same time, he can’t help but get just a little flustered.

[lordterronus]

I don't disagree with the notion that you shouldn't be sharing such criticisms unless the writer has given consent for such things beforehand, but I do think it's still fair for a reader to still be bothered when going into something expecting a work true to the Canon source material and it's characterisation only to end up with something that is distinctly not that.

Obviously writers can write whatever they want - lord knows I do and I encourage everyone else to do the same - but acting like it's unreasonable for someone to be upset that characterisation doesn't line up when they've been given no reason to assume it shouldn't I think is wrong. Fanfic will be filtered through the artist's personal interpretations, but that doesn't mean a work going in a wildly different direction than anything Canon without that being something made clear from the jump shouldn't bother readers.

The blessing and curse of fanfic is similar to adaptations in thar you get a guaranteed audience for your story, but it comes with expectations that if you deviate from, will put people off or raise questions or concerns. Of course, with fanfic you can just say that you're not going for the original characterisation. OOC tags exist for a reason, after all. And of course there is a degree to which a lot of this can be subjective. One writer can see something in a character that the reader thinks makes no sense and neither are necessarily wrong in many cases. Art is interpretive by its nature. But there will still be limits and a reader isn't wrong to recognise those necessarily.

unless they specifically asked, you don’t get to tell a fanfic writer you think they mischaracterized the character by the way. because the second someone writes a fanfic about a character, that character becomes the writer’s own version of the character. canon is only a suggestion, but whether or not an author will follow it / how much of canon an author will take is entirely up to them. you don’t get to stick your nose in their world and tell them “hey this is not to my liking therefore I think you’re doing it wrong” when you can simply leave quietly and move on to something else you may enjoy

[myfictionaldreams]

⁀➷ Crave // Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Summary: You're confident, loud, and always in control—until Eddie Munson’s praise turns you into something soft and aching.

Requested by: @peppers-hideout (they/them) -- thank you so so much for this request honestly I had so much fun writing it! Much love <3

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, pleasure dom!eddie, (eventual) sub!Reader, reader is described as extroverted to begin with, praise kink (!!), subspace, domestic fluff, teasing, dirty talk, one line of degrading, aftercare, oral (m receiving), rough sex, mentions of period

Words: 6.8k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

You were always the loud one.

The kind of girl who could walk into any room, whether it be a grimy bar off Main Street or the makeshift garage stage where Corroded Coffin practices, and just own it. Not because you were trying to. You just could. Talk with your hands. Magnetic and unapologetic. You were all coloured in the grayscale of Hawkins.

And somehow, you were his.

Eddie Munson, chaos incarnate. All black denim, tattoos and silver rings, always smelling faintly of smoke and cheap cologne, with a voice that could go from gravel to silk in the space of a sentence. He worked at the guitar store now – PickPlex - still played gigs, ran Hellfire, and cussed out anyone who disrespected one of his friends. But when he looked at you, it was like the rest of the world stopped existing.

He knew he was lucky to have found the other part of his soul. When the two of you were together, it just was. Soulmates in every sense of the word. If he was in the mood to burn down the patriarchy, you were right there with him with a lighter in hand.

You were his biggest supporter, his biggest cheerleader. There was no breaking the infamous ‘Freaks of Hawkins’, a name that had stuck with you both since high school.

You knew every little detail about Eddie, from his insecurities to his favourite pair of socks- the Led Zeppelin ones with the holes. Eddie similarly knew everything about you, which is why the shift caught him so off guard.

It started on a grey Wednesday. It was one of those Indiana days when the sky looked like wet concrete and everything felt ten degrees colder than it was.

It was your day off college, thank fuck, and you’d shown up at his trailer in sweats, hoodie pulled tight, socks mismatched and tucked over your swears. Your usual bursts of chaotic energy were nowhere to be found. No witty one-liners, no dramatic entrance, just a quiet groan as you threw yourself onto his bed, curled up like a cat, and clutched a microwave's heat pack to your stomach.

Eddie, who had followed quietly behind you, kicked the door shut, leaning casually against it, “Period week?”

You nod beneath your hood, burying your face into his pillow until he's sure you’ll smother yourself. “Feel like hell.”

He didn’t say much. Just kicked off his boots and climbed in behind you, pressing his chest to your back and draping an arm over your waist like he always did, only softer this time, his hand holding onto the heat pack for you.

Making sure you’re still breathing, he eases back your hood, happy to see your face squished on the side. This gives him the chance to kiss your cheek and nuzzle into your neck, breathing you in for a minute.

You hum contentedly, pushing your body back into his.

The calm only lasted for a moment before another wave of nausea and stabbing pain in your uterus caused a deep groan from you.

“You’re such a tough girl, baby,” Eddie encourages, voice low as he momentarily removes the heat pack, but only so he can massage the area that was aching. “So good for me.”

You went still, just for a moment.

Eddie was worried that he’d hurt you, but then he felt the shift as your body melted into his hold. The tiniest whimper slipped out, not quite intentional, like your brain hadn’t caught up with how your heart reacted.

He blinked, massaging your stomach, not daring to move anywhere else.

Just waited until your pain passed.

You didn’t say anything. Didn’t tease him or laugh it off like usual when he was trying to be comforting. You always said his praises sounded like you were a dog he was trying to pet, but there was nothing this time. You just let him hold you. Curled up as small as you can and quiet in his arms.

One arm eventually reaches out, linking your fingers through his, resting on your stomach.

And that was it. No grand revelation. No instant fireworks or declarations of love. Just a moment. But something had shifted, even if it wasn’t verbalised. Because Eddie? Eddie knew everything about you, and the way you had melted into his hold was something new.

He didn’t push it. Not yet. But he filed it away like a secret.

It was a Friday.

You’d stopped by PickPlex after your last class of the day, the sleeves of your oversized sweatshirt pulled over your hands. Your backpack slung lazily over one shoulder. You were talking about your professor’s obsession with overly dramatic grading curves while flipping idly through the racks of guitar strings like they were with your attention, but Eddie could tell something was up.

You were hovering. Lingering.

He was behind the counter, working on restringing a battered Strat for a high school kid who swore he didn’t know how the neck cracked. Eddie had one knee up on the stool, tongue between his teeth in focus, his hair falling into his face.

“Got this back today as well,” you say casually, stepping up to the counter and sliding a paper across towards him.

He barely glanced up at first, “Yeah?”

Then he saw the red circle—a crisp, bold A-.

Eddie set the guitar down and leaned forward, pulling the paper towards him, recognising the title from the essay you’d written for the last 3 weeks. “Holy shit, that’s amazing!”

You tried to keep your face neutral, but your lip was caught between your teeth, eyes flicking away, unable to hold his excited eye contact. It was small, barely-there, but he knew you. Knew that it wasn't nerves when you bit your lip like that. It was hope. Hope that someone would notice. That we would see.

Eddie’s eyes flicked from the paper back up to you. Then he beamed, a dimple forming in his cheek.

“I’m so proud of you, Sweetheart,” he’s stepping around the counter now. “My smart girl.”

You froze. Just for a single beat. Then your eyes dropped to the floor, cheeks warming as your fingers tugged at the fraying cuff of your sleeve.

There was no holding back the smile now, even if it was smaller than your usual grin.

It was the kind of smile that Eddie just knew you kept for him. Felt it like a spark down his spine.

He wraps you in a joyful hug, swaying on the spot as you sigh into his hold, his lips pressing comfortingly against your forehead.

Eddie held you with no rush to let go – it wasn’t like the shop was rushed with customers – and thought about how you looked when he gave you that praise again. The way you softened was like something that finally settled in his mind. Oh.

Eddie Munson did not rush it. Did not shove you into a new rhythm or make a big deal out of it.

Instead, he started weaving it in, casually, like it had always been there. To be truthful, it always had been. Eddie was always an affectionate and complimentary boyfriend, but never before had it had this sort of effect, like your entire personality would shift.

So he wanted to see how to develop this discovery subtly.

It started with the laundry.

You were helping to fold his seemingly endless collection of band tees in his trailer, legs crossed on the beige couch, in nothing but a bra and leggings. He watched you smooth his shirts into near little squares, brow scrunched in focus, like it wasn’t even a chore, just something you did because you were here and you loved him.

“You’re such a good girl,” he said offhandedly, reaching for another shirt.

You faltered—not enough to seem obvious, but enough for him to see. There was just a little pause in your hands, a flicker in your breath, and you didn’t look up at him.

Eddie noticed.

And when you did glance up at him moments later, your lashes were lower than usual. Your smile was gentler as you began discussing what to have for dinner, brushing past your feelings completely.

Hellfire club. Chaos, as always.

Jeff was arguing about spell slots, and Gareth was making some insane suggestion that only fired up Jeff more. And you, usually loud, chiming in with jokes or snatching the dice out of people’s hands, were seated beside Eddie’s throne, legs slung across his lap.

He reached beneath the table, finding your hand in your lap and laced his fingers through yours.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured low enough that the others wouldn’t hear.

No reason. No context. Just because he wanted to.

The muscles in your legs seemed to relax further on his thighs, like your tension melted into the floor. Your body shifted closer so that your head could rest on his shoulder, and you did not say another word.

This wasn’t you. You were usually sitting at the other end of the table, mixing in with your friends, not at his side, clutching his hand like it's your lifeline or rubbing your body against his like a cat.

It was cute. So fucking endearing. But it was out of character, and Eddie was loving it.

A few days later, you were sitting at the diner counter after dropping off some library donations with Robin, still dressed in that little corduroy skirt that always made his hands twitch and talking animatedly about an old lady who tried to tip you with a bag of sweets.

“And then she told me I had a good soul, can you believe it? Me?” Your head tips back in a laugh, reaching across the table to steal one of his fries.

Eddie’s hand catches yours, the coolness of his rings stark on your skin. He didn’t kiss it. Didn’t joke, just held it there as his thumb runs slow circles across your palm.

“You’ve got such a big heart, babe. I love that about you. That old lady was right.”

There it was.

The lowering of your gaze, your shoulders slumping, and your breath hitching. It was like your body short-circuited.

The way your lips parted, but no words came out.

You weren’t just reacting. You were responding. Physically.

Not just to the words but to Eddie. To the way he spoke. To what they meant when they came from him. You looked down at your lap, suddenly too focused on peeling the corner off your napkin.

Eddie couldn’t help it. He smiled, slowly. Grinning like a wolf ready to pounce on his prey. But not yet, he’d wait. He wanted to see just how much he could play into this discovery.

You didn’t even realise you were doing it at first.

Stopping by his work a little more than usual. Bringing him coffee, you didn’t even like the smell. Sliding into the creaky stool by the counter like you belonged there, pulling your textbooks out like the music store was just another extension of your world. Casual.

But it wasn’t about the coffee. Or the studying. Or even Eddie.

Well, not exactly.

It was about the moment you can say, “I passed my midterm.” Or, “Professor Carmichael used my essay as an example.”

And it wasn’t even the grade that made you smile.

It was the smoothness of Eddie’s voice. The way it would lower, rich like honey.

“You’re such a smart girl. Knew you’d kill it.”

“Fuck, I’m proud of you, Sweetheart.”

“My brilliant girl. Look at you.”

Every single time, your heart would beat just that bit stronger. No matter how cold, your body would ignite with heat.

Even if you tried to hide your reaction, you couldn’t. Your automatic response was to look down, trying to hide the twitch in your smile, the way your breath slowed, and the way your body softened. But Eddie always noticed. Because he always watched you.

The way you leaned closer to the praise. The posture changes like you’re settling into something warmer, safer. Like you’re trying to become smaller and compact.

His confident, social, take no shit girlfriend, going soft at the sound of a few words.

So, of course, he started offering it more.

You were trying to hide a yawn behind your hand as you leaned against the counter, brows furrowed as you read through a textbook for college. The shop was quiet as it came close to closing, so the boss didn’t mind when you used it as a place to study, keeping Eddie company.

He stood on the other side of the counter, watching you closely.

Leaning closer, his lips brushed your temple. “God, you’re so focused when you’re learning. That’s so hot.”

It would have sounded like he was teasing you if he had used any other tone. But that same low, silky voice had you instantly biting your lip hard.

And later, when he walked out from the back room and found you curled in the battered armchair near the window, knees tucked under you and your sweater sleeves covering your hands, nose buried in a battered paperback - he didn’t say a word.

Because there it was again. That softness. The unspoken request. The way you glanced up at him, slowly with eyes heavy-lidded like you’d been drifting off and just waited.

The twinkle in your glazed-over eyes, he just knew you wanted him to say something.

“You’re my favourite thing to look at, you know that? So pretty.”

And you whimpered. A quiet, breathy sound like your body didn’t know what to do with how much it wanted that kind of attention.

Eddie smirked, flexing his ringed fingers at his side before offering you one. He was ready to close up the shop, take you home in his van, and wrap his arms around you.

It hit you out of nowhere.

One minute, you were tucked into Eddie's passenger seat, your leg bouncing, and fingers fiddling together in your lap. Humming along to his latest mixtape.

The next minute, the need hit you like a train as his words from the shop replayed in your mind.

It crawled under your skin, burned low in your stomach, and made you shift in your seat, like your body didn’t fit right anymore.

You glanced over at him. One hand on the wheel, his fingers tapping to the beat, eyes focused. Casual and effortlessly hot.

You swallowed, leaning over to turn down the song's volume, “pull over.”

Eddie’s brown eyes flick to yours, “What? What's wrong?”

Reaching across the arm rests, you rest your hand over the bulge in his jeans, squeezing his soft cock. Bold and direct like you usually were. The way he always liked. But instead of the usual firm touch that had him thrusting into your palm, it’s soft, barely even a ghost of pressure for Eddie, like you needed to ask permission even though you just knew you didn’t need to because Eddie made you damn aware that you could touch him any second of any day.

Swearing under his breath, the grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white. “Jesus H Christ, Sweetheart-”

“Please, Eds. I just wanna take care of you. I don’t want to wait.”

His heads whipping towards you, eyes alarmingly wide and that alone made your thighs press together to try and ease the throbbing pressure in your clit.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Yeah, fuck yeah. Okay.”

Without wasting another second, he swerves the steering wheel, causing the van to drive off the road dramatically, gravel crunching beneath. Managing to park just beyond the treeline, Eddie shuts off the engine, dousing you both in silence.

You both climbed into the back of the van, an area perfectly filled with plush blankets, cushions, and a couple of band posters pinned above the side panels like his bedroom. It was his little getaway, whether to practice his guitar whilst watching the sunset or to smoke a joint with a couple of friends. Over time, though, it had become your haven, a spontaneous and comfortable place for an orgasm or two.

Eddie lies back in the middle, his hands on your waist with the intention of helping you to straddle his waist, but that was not your intention as you drop to your knees between his legs.

No teasing. No commentary. Just that head burning low in your belly, fueling your movements, needing to soothe the emotions in your body. If he could praise you then you were damn sure making him feel good.

Eddie watched, trying to figure out where this energy was coming from, then his mind drifted back to the response you’d give him in the store.

“Easy Angel, I’ve got it. You okay?” Eddie asks as he watches you struggle to undo his belt buckle because your hands shake so much. Another sign that had him questioning which side of you he would be getting.

You nod, avoiding eye contact, fingers gripping his jeans just because you had to hold onto something as he pushes his jeans down to mid-thigh. “Just want you in my mouth. Want you to tell me I’m good.”

The outline of his now hard cock twitches in his underwear as he hisses through his teeth. Licking his lips, he wraps his fingers around your wrists, pulling your body up so that you’re now hovering over him, his mouth so close to yours. “You’re always good for me. My girl. Always so sweet even when you want to suck my cock.”

He sees it. The way the tremble stops, and eyes glaze over, breath fanning across his face. His cock twitches again.

Eddie sits up, his mouth pressing against yours with an urgency that has him moaning first. Your lips are always so soft against his, like pillows, and they taste so sweet from the lip balm you obsessively use.

With his fingers still loosely around your wrists, your hands press into his lower stomach, just to hold onto him. Leaning into his kiss more, you mewl as his tongue brushes against yours.

With a hand now cupping your jaw, tilting your face away from him, Eddie has the perfect angle to kiss along your neck, tickling that ideal spot to have you like putty in his hands.

“Yeah,” he whispered between kisses. “That’s it, you just wannabe my good girl, don’t you?”

The answer came in a head-to-toe shiver as you pull out of his hold, shuffling further down his body once more and hovering over his crotch.

Licking your lips, you reach beneath the waistband, easing out his cock, noting how it hardened at your touch. You open without question, taking him slow, inch by inch, with that look in your eyes like this wasn’t about you at all. It was for him.

“Fuck”, Eddie grunted, hips jerking slightly. “You’re doing so fucking good for me, Angel. Look at you.”

You moan around him, taking him deeper, tasting the saltiness and something that was just so uniquely Eddie. 

He could feel the way his praises melted you From your mouth getting wetter, to your thighs squeezing together, your hands shaking as one holds the base of his cock and the other slips beneath his shirt to feel the soft layer of hair beneath his belly button.

“You’re so goddamn pretty like this. On your knees for me, just needing to hear how perfect you are.”

Your responding whimper nearly has Eddie orgasming already. Biting onto his knuckle to try and hold back, he just watches. Not thrusting, not taking. Just letting you take control and do what you like—pleasing him and getting drunk off his voice.

As much as sex was always a give and take motion, Eddie was very much a pleasure dom when it came to intimate moments. He got off on seeing you get off. Even before this revelation that his words were doing more to you than you first realised, Eddie loved nothing more than lying you back, a pillow beneath your hips and his face firmly between your thighs until you’re numb from the amount of orgasms.

Of course, with the years of dating him, you’d pleasured him, but it was never like this, never because you needed it. Not even wanted to pleasure, but needed to get him off, to hear his words, his moans, feel the hand on the back of your head with reassuring strokes of his fingers.

It was like a dormant part of your mind had finally woken up.

Your fingers graze over his balls, playing with them, and Eddie’s back arches, just about ready to blow.

“Wait- I want to finish inside you,” he gasps, trying to pull his cock out of your mouth but you’re determined and keep him in your mouth. “Fuck-! Yes, baby fuck yes!”

You both groan, Eddie deepper than you, as you swallow the hot cum down coating your tongue, lapping at the underside of his cock, his most sensitive of spots, until he slumps back in a satisfied heap.

Eddie gave himself one breath to get his composure before reaching for your body, fully intending to switch positions and repay the favour. However, you were already tugging his boxers back up, crawling into his lap like a sleepy kitten.

“I don’t wanna keep going,” you say quietly, settling your head against his chest, listening to the comfort of his racing heartbeat. Thump thump thump. “I just wanted to make you feel good.”

Eddie blinked, hands automatically holding your body closely, “You don’t want me to?”

You shake your head.

“I just needed to be close. Needed you. You always make me feel so good, so I wanted to do the same for you.”

He was quiet for a beat, trying to comprehend your words. “Angel.”

For a moment, Eddie’s worried that you’ve taken this whole praise thing the wrong way. He wasn’t saying these things to expect anything in return, and a heaviness settled in his stomach. But then he looked down at you in his lap, from the grateful smile and the loving look in your eyes and released a sigh, lips brushing against your hairline. “Of course. Yeah, sweetheart. Whatever you want, always.”

He held you for a couple of minutes, just breathing in your perfume, trying to find some composure after his intense orgasm as the van gently rocked from the breeze outside before finding any sort of motivation to drive home.

It crept into everything now. The way you’d gravitate toward Eddie like you needed to be touching him just to breathe right. The way your loud, teasing commentary during Hellfire sessions had quieted into soft chuckles.

You didn’t even notice how much softer you were around him, but everyone else did.

Dustin was the first to speak up.

“Is she sick or something?” he whispered to Gareth after one particularly mellow campaign night. You hadn’t interrupted once. Just smiled, laughed quietly, and curled into Eddie’s side like you were made to fit there.

Jeff snorted, overhearing, “Dude, she used to roast all of us for our dice rolls. Now she just smiles.”

“She’s still her and she can very much hear you assholes,” Eddie interrupts from the head of the table, his arm wrapped casually around you, his thumb rubbing slow circles into you hip as you gave the boys at the end of the table the middle finger. “Se’s just tired lately, so stop judging, yeah?”

But even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t just tiredness.

It was that look you gave him every time he called you good, every time he praised your kindness or told you how proud he was. That softness had settled deep in your bones, a kind of hush that bloomed just for him.

Still, he needed to check in later, when it’s just the two of you back in his trailer, the TV playing some old horror flick as your legs rest in his lap, his hand under your shirt resting on your bare stomach.

“You okay, Sweetheart?” he asks, trying to keep his eyes on the screen but spending more time glancing at your face, trying to see any signs that something was wrong.

You nod, idly running your hands over his forearms. “Mhm.”

“You’ve been quiet lately,” Eddie pushes, not satisfied with the response.

You blink up at him, eyes big, warm and open. “Just like being near you, Eds. That’s all.

“Yeah?”

You answer with a sweet kiss to the centre of his throat, directly over his adam's apple. “You make me feel safe, Munson.”

Fuck. That was it. That was the shift he’d been feeling. Not just a change in mood, but a change in trust. You weren’t just his loud, fearless girl anymore. You were letting him carry you a little and letting him be your softness and safe place.

The house party at Steve’s place was loud, chaotic, and everything you loved about hanging out with your friends. 

Music blasted from the stereo, and people laughed in the kitchen over spilt beer and half-eaten pizza. Eddie was by your side, sitting on the couch, nursing a beer in his hand, his head tipped back with a laugh with Robin and Steve. You were laughing, too, throwing playful jabs at Harrington’s over-the-top party-hosting skills.

But there was something different tonight. Eddie noticed it almost immediately. You were quieter than usual, a little softer. Not in a bad way, just not as loud or bubbly. Your words were fewer, your movements more delicate as you leaned into Eddie’s warmth. Your usual mischievous grin had softened, and your laugh was quieter, most distant.

It wasn’t that you were sad; in fact, it was very much the opposite. You were still in the moment, enjoying yourself, but Eddie’s gaze kept flicking to you, watching the subtle changes. The way you stared into your red cup a little too long. The way your fingers tapped idly against your knee. The way your smile was smaller and your breath softer.

The way you had been acting wasn’t even necessarily a daily occurrence, either. This softness. There were still days when your loudness would return, the jesting with friends. In fact, yesterday, the two of you had sung karaoke off-key in the local bar just because you wanted to prove that you could hold a note longer than him. He watched, mesmerised, as you stood on a chair and belted out a song with all of your heart. His girl. His beautiful soulmate. Loud and proud.

But today, there was that change once more.

“Hey, Angel. You okay?” 

Blinking slowly, like it was an effort to achieve, you give him an almost sheepish smile, resting your chin against his shoulder and breathing him in. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips as he kisses the tip of your nose. He’d seen you go quiet like this after he complimented you on a particular burn against Harrington in this current war of words.

“Do you want to come with me for a second?”

You nod without hesitation, letting him guide you by the hand as he leads you away through the crowd. By passing the kitchen, he heads up the stairs, pausing at a door near the back of his house, glancing over his shoulder to ensure no other person was following.

The spare bedroom was empty. It was a quiet sanctuary away from the party noise, but the steady bass could still be heard thumping through the floor.

Shutting the door with a soft click, he turns to you, finding you flicking on the small lamp on the bedside table. Eddie licks his lips, watching you closely, from the way you awkwardly shuffle your feet, eyelids lowered like you’re embarrassed to meet his eyes, hands behind your back giving you an innocent demeanour.

Yeah. You were definitely in that praiseful headspace right now.

Eddie was quick to close the distance, needing to feel, touch, and protect you if that's what you wanted. Your lips parted, and his mouth is on yours, stealing all of your breath, hands firmly on your waist so you’re being pulled tightly against his chest.

Your hands circle their way into his hair, clutching it tightly and playing with the curls.

Eddie eases back, but only because he is dizzy from the lack of oxygen, resting his forehead against yours as he tries to compose himself. “You’re so quiet, baby.” Each kiss he placed against your cheek was slow, like he wanted to savour the taste of every inch of skin he reached, making his journey down your neck until you’re melting into his hands. “I know what you need.”

You felt a soft shiver run through you at his words. He was so close now. His hands lowring to cup your arse beneath your skirt, the firmness poking into your abdomen from his cock aching in his jeans. 

“Eddie, I-”

He kisses you again, cutting off whatever you were about to say, deepening the movements until your tongues are dancing together, fighting for dominance in a way that you’re now ready to drop to your knees because the word Eddie, Eddie Eddie, was all you could think about. It was addictive.

“Let me take care of you. You’ve been so fucking good, so sweet for me tongiht. I can see it, baby. I can see you slipping into that space. Let me make you feel good. I know that’s what you need.”

You felt your body respond to him. The overwhelming urge just to rub yourself all over him, to feel him on you. You needed to please him, the way he always did for you.

“Please, Eddie,” you say breathlessly, chest chevy to suck in air until you’re dizzy and swaying in his arms. Your fingers release the firm hold on his hair, lowering them over his chest. “I want to make you feel good, too.”

His eyes flashed with something darker. The corner of his lips tipped up as he began to push you back against the bed, your body bouncing on the mattress, his body now hovering over yours, trapping you underneath him.

“You wanna make me feel good, huh? God, how did I get so lucky to get you, Angel?”

Your eyes are wide as you stare at him, his curls framing his face in darkness, the smell of his shampoo filling your senses. “Yes, Eddie. I just want to make you feel good. I need to.”

“Good girl,” he praises sweetly, running his hands down your body. His fingers trace the curve of your waist before slipping under your shirt, admiring the softness of your stomach skin. He pauses for a moment, just to watch your reaction.

Your hips roll, pushing his hands firmer against your body, thighs separating to give Eddie room to rest a thigh just there.

His eyes lowered, watching the way your panty covered pussy now rubbed against his jean covered thigh. He could feel the warmth of your arousal even through the denim, feel the dampness seeping through.

“I love it when you do that. I know you want to make me feel good and you will, because nothing turns me on more than seeing you cum, Sweetheart. Let’s see if you can take me, baby.”

Eddie’s gifted fingers lower to the edge of your crumpled skirt, lifting the flimsy material until your lace panties are uncovered. He sucks in a breath, even though he saw you dress in them earlier, seeing them pressed firmly against his leg had his abdomen tightening with the need to cum. With a breath that helps to soothe that fighting urge down, his fingers slid under the damp material.

His eyes close, groaning deeply as he plays with your wetness, spreading it over your pussy, soaking your clit before lifting his thumb to his mouth, sucking and tasting your juices.

“Taste so fucking good. What do you want, Angel? My fingers, mouth or cock?”

“Cock, Eddie please fuck me.”

Jeans and boxers shoved down, panties off and thrown across the room, Eddie has one hand around your jaw, possessive and dominant as he guides his cock to your pussy with the other hand.

With each inch that enters you, your walls squeeze, the thickness causing your eyes to roll back. Your fingers dig into his forearms, leaving crescent-shaped marks from your nails.

“Goddamn, baby. Always so tight for me. You love this, don’t you? Love being my good girl?”

You nod frantically, feeling his fingers squeeze just that bit tighter around your throat, not in a discomfort way but just to keep you right there.

Eddie fucked you slowly at first, deliberate and deep. He wanted to see how loud your sweet moans could be, almost wishing your friends downstairs could hear so they knew who you belonged to.

The noises coming from your cunt were just as obscene, the sloppy slick and slap as he moved in and out. You were burning from the inside out; everything started and ended with the man inside you.

“You’re takin’ me so well. So fucking good for me!”

You whined, clinging to his shoulders now as he lowered his chest to brush against yours, the clothes catching together and wrinkling as his hips chase that helpless desperation.

Then something shifted. A spark. A pulse of heat and need in your belly, tightening, growing with each thrust.

Your legs hooked around his waist tightly, grabbing the back of his hair, your voice coming out harsher than it had all evening. “Harder, Eddie. Fuck-harder, please!”

Eddie froze. Then grinned.

“There she is,” he breathed, cock twitching inside of you. “There’s my strong, fiery girl; I’ve been looking for you.”

Your pussy clenched hard around him as your continue to hold onto him.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” he groans, snapping his hips forward with enough force that he has to hold your hips down onto the bed. “Hmmm, let me just try something first.”

You’re so deep within your arousal that you don’t respond at first, eyes closed and body trembling with restraint.

“Good girl”, he praises gently, kissing your cheek.

Your inner walls tighten in a quick burst, squeezing his cock, earning a deep groan from your boyfriend.

“Mm, fuck yes, you’re my little slut aren’t you.”

Nothing. Not even a whine, squeeze of your legs, or flutter from your pussy. Eddie chuckles, sitting up on his forearms as he stares at your face. You aren’t upset, but you aren’t reacting; you’re just blank like you weren’t there anymore.

His hands cup your cheek instantly, “Hey, hey. You with me?”

You nod slowly, eyes finally having some depth and life. “I’m okay. I just-”.

Eddie leans down, kissing your nose, lips, chin and cheeks. “I know, that wasn’t for you. It’s okay. I just wanted to see if you would be interested in anything else. But, you’re my good girl, and my perfect angel just wants to be praised, doesn’t she? For taking my cock so fucing well.”

There was. That deep clench that suffocated around his cock, the one that took his breath awy and confirmed his thoughts. “Oh yeah, there she is. Tell me Angel, tell me you’re mine and i’ll make you cum.”

“I’m yours,” you sob, tears welling in your eyes at just how overwhelmingly perfect this was. 

Eddie's hips began moving more intensely than ever before, driving your body right to that perfect place.

“Again.”

“I’m yours, Eddie- all yours, always-”

He kisses you so hard you forget how to breathe.

You came with him buried deep inside, clenching like a vice, sobbing through it. Eddie didn’t stop kissing you; he rocked you through it until a new warmth began to spill into you, dripping out with more obscene wet noises and causing more stains on the sheets.

His touches softened, lips encouraged with their touches over your face, bringing your hands to his mouth, kissing each finger.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he whispers, wiping the tears and sweat from your face with the corner of his shirt.

You nod with a tremble, “I'm ok, Eds.”

“You were incredible, so fucking incredible. All of you, my strong, perfect girl. I love you so much,” he buries his face into your neck, arms scooping beneath your back to wrap you in a hug.

You’re exhausted, physically and mentally. You wish you could return those praiseful words right back to him, but you couldn’t because you needed sleep—even if your last thought was the words, “I love you too.” 

The party was still thumping downstairs, but in the quiet, dimly lit spare bedroom, the world had shrunk to just the two of you.

You were in and out of sleep. Body feeling like warm jelly, boneless and dazed, wrapped in Eddie’s embrace on the tangled bed. The room smelled like sex, sweat and Eddie’s cologne. Grounding.

Your cheek was resting against his chest, eyes fluttering shut as his fingers stroked playfully over the nape of your neck.

You weren’t crying. You weren’t sad. You were just… spent.

Eddie felt it. Every tiny tremble in your body, how you clung to him like he was the last steady thing in the world. You hadn’t spoken since you came so hard you’d forgotten your name – not because something was wrong, but because your brain had gone quiet. Floating.

Eddie had been researching different BDSM terminologies, especially since finding out that he liked to be referred to as a pleasure dom. As you began reacting so well to the praises, he wanted to see what else he could learn to help benefit you.

Which is why he now knew you did not like degrading, having had no physical or verbal response during sex.

He also knew that what you were experiencing right now was something called Subspace. You were deep in it, still floating in that blissed-out, fragile place that made you extra soft and sleepy.

“Hey, baby,” Eddie gently spoke, his voice cracking as he did so. “You still with me?”

You nod, somewhat awake, cheek still smushed against his shirt. “Mmhm.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, smiling against your damp forehead. “You did so well for me tonight. So, so fucking good. I’m gonna clean you up now, though, ok? I don’t want you to wake up later feeling gross. Need to get you nice and comfortable.”

After another barely there nod, Eddie carefully slips out of your hold, readjusting his boxers and jeans, rebuckling the belt and straightening himself. He could shower later when you were wrapped up safely in his bed.

With careful coaxing, Eddie helped you walk to the bathroom across the hall and sit on the counter. With warm water on the corner of a towel, he wiped away the sins between your legs, being careful as he moved.

You whimpered, shoulders hunching over, and legs trying to sht at the overstimulation. Eddie, ever the caring boyfriend, took his time, talking you through the touch. “I know, baby. I’m being as gentle as I can, but I need to take care of you.”

You’re practically asleep again by the time he’s stuffing your panties into his back pocket and straightening your clothes. With his leather jacket wrapped around your shoulders, he helps you down the stairs. “Let’s get you home, sweetheart.”

You barely remember the taxi ride home. You were just aware of moving around and leaning heavily against him, and of the moment when the world began to strongly smell like him and home. 

Finally, you were being helped out of your clothes and into one of his old shirts. Then, you were tucked into his bed, and he lay beside you in just a pair of boxers.

Only once you were warm and safe in the dark did he speak again, not even sure you were awake.

“Hey, how are you feeling? Do you feel alright now?”

He’s surprised when you react with a subtle tilt of your head against his chest, curling further into his hold, “Yeah, Eddie. I’m just- I don’t know. I felt so close to you earlier. I think I just dropped, is that the right word for it?”

Eddie nods, striking his fingers against your cheek, picturing your face in the dark. “You don't have to explain it, sweetheart. I get it. I felt it too”

“I just wanted to make you feel good. You always take care of me. You're always saying how I'm your best girl, and I just wanted to give that back, even if it was a lot.”

“It was a lot,” Eddie agreed. But I loved every second of it. And you were perfect. You don't need to do anything for me. You could slap me in the face, and I'd thank you for it.”

You laugh tiredly against his chest, “I'm not going to slap you, Eddie.”

“You know what I mean,” he chuckles, tightening his hold. I’ll always take care of you because you’re my best girl, and you’re going to mine forever and always, right?”

“Forever and always, Eddie.”

[chiara-hotel]

When You're on your Period Characters: HSR | Mydei, Anaxa, Dan Heng | ZZZ | Vivian, Harumasa

✧ Mydei doesn't know too much about periods, but he helps you as much as possible during this time

✧ For example, he'll go out and get you food, or he'll cuddle you to help you with your pain

✧ While dating him, he often does things for you all the time. You mean everything to him, and he doesn't want to lose you. So during your period, he usually acts the same as he normally does.

✧ Even though he often acts tough, he treats you like you're his queen, sitting beside him on a throne

✧ Mydei also becomes more protective of you because you're in pain, and would be a little closer to you

✧ When you're cramps ease up, he becomes a little less protective, but he still is protective, since he's just like that as a person, he protects those he cares about

✧ He also remembers what painkillers and pads/tampons you like to use, and he'll get them before your period starts

✧ Not to mention, he encourages you to wear a heating pad, even while you both cuddle, he doesn't mind it

✧ Anaxa knows all about periods, what might comfort you and what you need during this time

✧ Although he is sure to ask you about it directly, since he knows everyone is different with what they like

✧ He would recommend different brands of painkillers to know which one is best

✧ And he 100% would love to get them for you while you rest due to cramps

✧ Aside from working and doing your duties, he encourages you to rest as much as possible

✧ Although he wouldn't stop you from working, since your period is something that you have to live with, and he can't change that

✧ He is also willing to cuddle you whenever + doesn't mind if the sheets are bloody when you wake up

✧ Dan Heng also acts just like normal while you're on your period

✧ You might get twice the cuddles just because you're in pain and he hates seeing you in pain

✧ Dan Heng is also willing to get you any snacks you desire. He's also willing to go get the groceries for the astral express just to get whatever you desire

✧ He'll also buy you pads, tampons or painkillers while he's out, either with you or without you

✧ Since he knows you're more emotional on your period, he wouldn't mind going shopping together as well, just to keep you happy, and he loves seeing you happy

✧ He hates seeing you in pain, but he also understands that this is something that you unfortunately have to deal with

✧ He also allows you to cuddle and touch his more dragon features during this time, when he usually wouldn't let you all too much

✧ Vivian has everything about you memorized, including your period schedule, what type of tampons or pads you like, what type of painkillers you use, etc.

✧ She does have a separate period tracker app to track yours

✧ She also loves it whenever you guys have your periods at the same time, so then you guys just want to cuddle underneath the sheets all day

✧ You guys also are sure to shop for pads and such before they happen, plus she's always stocked with extra just in case you needed it

✧ Harumasa takes your period very seriously, and he might take it so seriously that he uses it as an excuse to get out of work

✧ If you work in section 6, it could be better or worse; you could either take a day off and naturally he would have to take a day off with you, or you'll stay there and make him stay there as well.

✧ If he does get the day off, he'll appreciate you 10x more that day

✧ Cuddles? Sure! Kisses? Sure! Snacks? Sure, he'll go leave to buy some right away

✧ He loves how clingy you get while in pain, cuddling him for hours on end. Although he also hates seeing you in pain.

✧ He'll get up for pretty much anything you need, and he'll also buy anything you need

✧ If it is late at night, he might complain a bit about you having to get up to change your pad/tampon, and he might follow you and wait outside the bathroom door

[covenofagatha]

A New Addiction

You've known Agatha for awhile now but when you start working with her, feelings start to develop

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: oral sex, service bottom reader, caffeine addiction, praise kink, bit of an oral fixation, age gap

A/N: This is super specific and entirely self-indulgent lmao

It’s a stupid crush. 

Harmless. Futile. Foolish. 

You’ve known her for years. She’s friends with your mom. And now, she’s your much older co-worker. 

Well, kind of your co-worker. You’re just helping out on the side. It’s the swimming unit for the Physical Education classes at the high school you went to and you’re lifeguarding after graduating college just to make some extra cash. 

Which means getting to hang out on the pool deck with Agatha Harkness for two weeks. 

The crush sort of came out of nowhere. You’d never really thought of her in that way, and you’re not sure when things changed. 

Maybe it was when she asked you deep questions when it was just the two of you sitting there and she actually listened. Maybe it was when she teased you about trying an energy drink for the first time and getting hooked immediately and still encouraging you. Maybe it was when she told you that you were funny a few days ago. 

But you can’t stop thinking about her now and the way she tilts her sunglasses down to look at you with those bright blue eyes and the way she tosses her long dark hair over her shoulder and the way she nudges you when you say something cheeky but then smirks wickedly to dish it right back at you. 

It’s becoming a slight problem, how you always want to be with her. How the class periods that she has free just drag by and you count down the minutes until you might be able to see Agatha again. How you would do anything just to have her attention on you, even though you know logically that she’ll never like you back like that. 

But Agatha brings you an energy drink on Monday, tsking when your eyes light up and you immediately reach for it when she gives it to you in the office. 

“You are so addicted,” she sighs with a chuckle when you hand it back to her because you can’t open the can. Agatha easily pops it open, nails painted a deep red that contrasts nicely with her pale skin, and she holds eye contact as she takes a sip right from the opening of it. She’s wearing shorts that show off her long legs and a light blue shirt and you can’t stop your gaze from wandering down her body.

She gives it back to you and you try to ignore the fact that your lips are touching the spot that hers just did. 

“And yet, you’re just giving me more,” you say, grinning. “You like it.” 

Agatha snorts. “And you’re crazy.” 

You take a long swig and swish the liquid around your mouth. She watches, pupils dilating just slightly. When she looks at you like that, you think she must feel something for you. 

It looks like she’s going to say something else, but she doesn’t—she just smirks knowingly and picks up her clipboard before walking out and to the pool deck. 

This is her easiest class: not a lot of kids and they’re all strong swimmers. Which means you get to just hang out with her. 

You walk with her up and down the deck, mindlessly chatting about your weekends and how the kids are doing while swimming. Agatha’s lips quirk up each time you lift the can to your mouth and you pretend not to notice, but you can’t help laughing. 

She makes you feel so free. 

When the kids are done swimming and they have free time to play around in the pool, you and Agatha sit next to each other in chairs by the diving well. You take off your shirt, revealing your sensible one-piece just to get some sun, and you think you hear her breath hitch. 

It’s hard to ignore the warm feeling spreading through you as you feel her eyes raking over you. 

—

She walks with you up to the cafeteria during lunch and you’re hoping you can snag something to eat. 

You have a second energy drink in your hands and Agatha keeps making fun of you for it. 

“One day, your heart is going to explode,” she says while shaking her head fondly. 

Lifting the can to your lips, you smile into it before taking a short sip. “What can I say? I get addicted to things way too easily. I just can’t stop thinking about them.” 

There’s a look in Agatha’s eyes, like she knows that what you really can’t stop thinking about is her. 

The cafeteria is crowded when you get there. You open the door and hold it open for Agatha, who breezes past you with a quick “Thank you.”

It’s easier to hang back, so you do. But Agatha pushes through the crowd to get food and she comes back a few minutes later to raise an eyebrow at you. 

“Are you getting something?” 

You gesture at the line of kids standing there. 

Agatha huffs. “Go up there and get something. Do you need me to hold your hand?” 

Turning out your bottom lip mockingly into an exaggerated pout, you nod, wondering what she’ll do. 

She grabs your hand from where it was limply resting on your waist and squeezes it. “Be brave and go get some food.” 

But then Agatha drops your hand and you’re almost disappointed. You nod and she claps you on the shoulder before you push through the kids to pick up a paper plate with pasta on it.  

When you come back, she’s still waiting for you and she buys your food for you. You don’t really know why she’s being so nice but you mumble a “thank you” and she smirks before waving you along. 

A few girls from her class catch you both as you’re walking back to the office and you finish your pasta while they talk to her. After you throw your plate away, she hands you the rest of her food without saying a word to you. 

Once again, you have to pretend not to care that your mouth is eating from the same fork that hers was. 

—

You’re back on the deck with Agatha. It’s only her class in the pool—just how you like it. It means it’s just the two of you, no other coaches around. 

One of her students, a girl with light brown hair and black suit, is talking to you about boy drama she’s having, trying to stall having to get in the pool. 

Agatha laughs when you say something snarky and you try to ignore the way your clit pulses. Your hands are slightly trembling, a remnant of all the caffeine you’ve drank today, and you can feel Agatha’s eyes on you again. 

“All right, Jess, you need to go swim,” Agatha says and Jess looks at you pleadingly but you tilt your head toward her coach in agreement. 

She sighs but finally goes to jump in the pool and catches up with her friends. The air is thick with something now that she’s gone and it’s just you and Agatha. 

“How is your love life?” Agatha asks and you stiffen before trying to seem casual. You pick at your nails while she leans over the side of her chair. “Any guys?” 

That makes you snort and you turn to look at her. “I’m not really into guys,” you rasp, voice suddenly deeper. 

She picks up her sunglasses and rests them on top of her head, surveying you. Her blue eyes seem to pierce right through you, and although it’s really hot outside, you shiver. 

What is she going to say? 

All Agatha does is hum and drop her glasses back down onto her nose and you bite your lip at the silence. 

Should you continue that conversation? Tell her about your failed relationships? Ask her about her love life?

“That’s good to know,” she says finally and you stare straight ahead at the pool and hope that she thinks your flush is just from the temperature. 

—

Agatha brings you another energy drink the next morning and you think you get more of a high from her than you do from the caffeine. She’s wearing a green tank top and khaki shorts and you want to get on your knees for her. 

She opens your drink for you again and takes a sip before you can. 

It’s like she wants you to think about kissing her. Like she wants you to imagine it. 

“I hate this type of schedule,” you say. The kids have only their even class periods today, whereas yesterday, they had their odd. 

She smirks and steals the can from you again to take another sip before handing it back. Her fingers brush against yours and there’s droplets on her lip that you want to lick off. “Is it because you don’t get to see me as much?” 

It is. She only has one class out in the pool on days like this. You like the other coaches well enough, but none of them give you the rush that Agatha does. 

“Totally,” you answer sarcastically so she thinks you’re joking. 

Agatha taps your chin with a knowing look and you think she must know a lot more than she lets on. “Don’t get too bored without me.” 

“I could say the same thing to you,” you quip and are delighted when she winks at you. 

She takes a step closer to you and the air gets tighter around you. All you can think about is her leaning in and kissing you slowly. 

But she doesn’t. 

Agatha just gives you a crooked smile and walks out to get her class and you trudge to the pool deck for over an hour of boredom. 

—

“How was it?” Agatha asks when you collapse into a chair in her office after the first period of the day. You’re sweating already, even though it’s still early in the morning, and the sleeves on your shirt are rolled up, baring your shoulders. 

You groan and wipe your forehead. “Those boys are the worst. And you weren't there.” 

She laughs and it’s music to your ears. “I’ll be there next period, don’t worry.” 

It pulls a smile onto your face and she holds your stare for a second. There’s something different about the way she’s looking at you and talking to you. Like there’s a closeness now that wasn’t there before. 

Agatha doesn’t act like this with anyone else, at least not that you’ve noticed. She doesn’t share drinks casually with anyone else like she does with you. 

It has to mean something, right? 

Your hand is trembling again against the desk. No surprise after downing the drink and you can slowly feel yourself start to come down from the high. 

She abruptly slides back in her chair and stands up. You look up in surprise and she puts her hand on top of your shaky one. 

“I need something from the equipment room. Come with me?” she asks, but it’s not really a question. 

And you’d never say no anyway. 

Her office is connected to the gym and she leads you into the storage room on the other side. It’s big and filled with carts of footballs and basketballs and volleyballs and hula hoops hang on the walls and big physio balls are stacked on top of shelves. It smells musty but it doesn’t take long to adjust to it. 

Agatha walks back and forth like she’s looking for something and you don’t get in the way; you stand to the side and run your hands through the line of jump ropes hanging. 

You accidentally catch one of them with your fingertips and end up pulling about six onto the floor. 

Before even thinking about it, you sink to your knees to pick them up. 

Agatha stops in front of you and you just look up at her, dropping the ropes in your hands back onto the floor. It feels like everything goes even quieter than it was before. Can she hear you breathing? You can hear yourself and you don’t know if it’s really as ragged as you think it is. 

Her eyes are dark as she peers down at you and something just feels right about this. 

She must want you too.

She has to like you too. 

Agatha swallows, strangely and uncharacteristically affected, and reaches out to brush a strand of hair back behind your ear. It’s gentle and you almost shiver. Your mouth is watering. 

You could make her feel so good right now. Your clit pulses at the thought. 

Neither of you have moved. 

Will you just stay like this until the bell rings and then pretend that nothing happened?

But then she clears her throat and your eyes dart up to watch her lips move. “You look good like this,” she says, thick and hot and you let out a strangled gasp. 

Your hands are shaking again but it’s not because of the caffeine, it’s because of your desire. Your need. 

She sees it too and smirks. “You are addicted, aren’t you?” 

Addicted to her. 

Is that what she’s asking? 

“Yes,” you admit breathlessly and she grins wolfishly and starts to walk away. You watch her, dumbfounded, until she backs into the wall only a few feet away from where you’re still kneeling and stares expectantly at you. 

And then she hikes up her shirt and unbuttons her shorts and your eyes widen. 

“But—I—you—” you stammer, not sure why you can’t just shut up. This can't be real, this is just some hallucination or something. 

“Are you going to make me feel good?” Agatha asks nonchalantly, like she isn’t about to let you fuck her, and your world tilts on its axis. 

You whimper and nod pathetically and you don’t even care that you’re crawling across a dirty floor on your knees for her because you’d do anything for her at this point. 

How did it get to this point? 

Her thighs are soft under your quivering fingertips and you don’t care if this is a dream or if she calls this a moment of weakness or if you never get to touch her again. 

She tenses as you drag your hands up further to tease the edge of her shorts and you flick your eyes up to watch her through your eyelashes as you pull her zipper down with your teeth. Her chest flares and she reaches up to ruffle her hair with her left hand. 

When her zipper is all the way down, you find a hint of gray cotton underwear peeking through and you quietly groan to yourself. You tug on the waistband and slowly drag them down her pale legs. You can’t resist the urge and you lean in to nip at her thigh and she hisses. 

“We don’t have much time,” Agatha rasps but you move in slow motion anyway, tilting your head back up, eyes travelling up from her shorts pooled at her ankles to the damp fabric between her thighs. She says your name, a testament, maybe, to how much she wants this too. 

You could tease her; it would be payback for all the teasing she’s given you the past few days. 

But you need this as much as she does. 

Agatha lets out a small noise when you lay your hands on her thighs to spread them and you scooch closer to her. You give her one last look, just to make sure, and you only find desire on her face. 

You drag your tongue over her wet gusset and everything is changed between you forever. 

Agatha slumps against the wall and you moan unconsciously at the tangy flavor before sucking on her folds through her underwear. Her hips buck and you’re surprised by how turned on she is already. 

But you can’t talk—you can feel how much of a mess you are. 

You lick at her clit through her underwear which is now a charcoal gray color with your saliva and her wetness staining it. A thrilling high roots itself in your brain at the thought of her walking around in these the rest of the day. You hope she feels how soaked she is with every step she takes.

She gasps and her hand finds your hair. Her fingers tighten and her nails scratch against your scalp, pulling a moan from you. “Hurry up,” she grits out. There’s a longer break on days like these, but you don’t know how much time is left. 

And you’d hate to leave her unsatisfied. 

You pull back and scrape your teeth over her thigh before reaching up to pull her underwear to the side. Her wetness gets on your hand and you suck your fingers into your mouth to clean them. Her top teeth sink into her bottom lip as she stares down at you. 

And then you slowly move back to her cunt, like you’re being pulled magnetically. You breathe heavily, already craving her, and you think you die and go to heaven when you drag your flattened tongue through her folds, able to feel her this time. 

She fills your mouth and your taste buds are flooded with the best thing you’ve ever had and you close your eyes to savor her. Agatha inhales again and slides further down the wall so you’re able to get more between her legs. Your fingers are digging into her thighs and they’re not trembling anymore—you’re getting your fix right now.

Agatha gasps when you lap around her clit, teasing but not giving in just yet. She makes a muffled noise and her fingers warningly tug on your hair and you smirk against her hot center before enclosing your lips around the nub and sucking. Her eyes shoot wide and she clamps her other hand over her mouth. 

Your knees ache from the floor but it hardly even registers because you can feel her clit throbbing in your mouth and her head drops back against the wall and you know you’re doing something right. 

She keens when your tongue slides down to her entrance and then curls up inside her and her hips rock again. Your nose moves over her clit and she does her best to ride your face, as much as her position allows her to. 

Her walls clench around your tongue and more wetness leaks down the side of your face but you can’t get enough. You devour her, frantically mouthing at her pussy, and you still can’t believe this is actually happening. 

“Fuck, your mouth is so good,” she groans and you moan into her. She stiffens over you and you curl your tongue inside her again. She pulses around you. 

You say something into her cunt; it’s muffled and unintelligible and even you don’t know what you’re meaning to say. 

Agatha whimpers and pulls at your hair again when you move back to sucking at her clit. “Right there, fuck, that’s perfect,” she sighs and your tongue lashes against her. 

Her pupils have swallowed up almost all the blue in her eyes and her cheeks are a rosy pink color. The vein in her forehead that you watch throb sometimes is throbbing right now as she looks down at you. 

You’ve never felt like you belonged somewhere as much as you do right now. You could live under her desk with her cunt in your mouth and you don’t think you’d be more content anywhere else. 

Agatha’s fingers are gripping your hair so hard it’s almost painful and you relish in the fact that you’ll feel her phantom touch even after it’s gone. You’ll be sitting on the pool deck next to her, the taste of her still in your mouth, and no one will know. 

It’ll be your little secret. 

“Fuck, fuck, I’m going to come,” she groans urgently and it’s as close to begging as you’re going to get from her. 

Your teeth scrape against her clit and you dip your tongue back inside her one last time before sucking open-mouthed on her and flicking your tongue over her clit as fast as you can. Agatha throbs and her cunt is getting hotter and your nails dig deeper into her legs. 

“Oh—fuck,” she breathes and you feel her come. Her thighs tighten around your head and shake like your hands were earlier and she yanks on your hair. Her lip has to be stinging from how hard it looks like she’s biting it. 

And you just keep sucking and lapping up her wetness, drunk on her taste and feel and everything. Her noises are delicious and go straight to your own cunt and you want to make her make them over and over again. 

Her clit is still pulsing; you can feel it, and you think she might come again. She has a dazed out look in her eyes as she stares down at you and her breathing is labored. 

But she shakes her head and tugs you away from her and you reluctantly let her. You sit back on your heels, gasping, the entire bottom half of your face and nose slicked with her. 

She chuckles while she takes in the disheveled mess that she’s made you into and wipes her thumb against your chin, collecting her wetness. She holds it out to you and you eagerly suck on her, bobbing up and down to make sure you get all of it. Even after the taste is gone, you don’t stop. 

“Already addicted?” she asks, soft and teasing and this won’t be the last time this happens because you think she might be addicted too. She bends down to pull her pants and underwear back up.

You nod and there’s a smug, triumphant smirk on her face. She’s so proud and there’s a burning sensation that sears through your stomach. 

The bell rings and you’re reminded that you’re on your knees in a storage room in a high school gym and you have to go out and work. 

With Agatha. 

After she just came all over your face. 

You can still taste her and smell her and feel her. 

“Go clean up,” she orders and holds out her hand for you to take. She helps you up and your knees hurt when you bend them and she laughs when you wobble on your feet. 

She looks over your body one last time before nodding assuringly and then walks toward the door. She glances over her shoulder to make sure you’re okay and you follow her out with a foggy mind. 

You already can’t wait for the next time. 

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @m1vfs @agathascoven1 @500daysofmarissa @tobeawriter98 @hapuchika @r0se16

[notatzimisce]

#this may just be how I read it may absolutely be wrong#I think it’s less of a wouldn’t it be funny if we fucked with ppls neuralinks#and more these people are idiots for voluntarily getting a brain implant as such a thing could be exploited against them#which… yeah. they are. they’re putting themselves in danger.#living out some cyberpunk fantasy isn’t worth the risks that come with it#and for those people seeing things like this may encourage them to rethink if it’s actually something they’d want or not < prev

neuralink is literally only accepting quadriplegics and people with ALS as patients, per their website. I don't think that wanting to be able to move your body again equates to "living out some cyberpunk fantasy" or makes someone an idiot. I also don't think there is any even remotely humane or ethical position that says it's okay to blame a patient for getting a medical device someone might tamper with for fun.

I understand that most of the people laughing at this funy joke probably do not know it is, like, a medical device that silicon valley normies are hoping will someday translate into a cyberpunk fantasy for them, especially considering all the cyberpunk fantasy hype being pushed around it. but until that day comes, this joke is, however unintentionally, about fucking with paralyzed people's implants

[sincerelyneo]

life is a highway | n.jm

“i wanna ride it all night long”

💿now playing: life is a highway by rascal flatts

❯ summary: Being a nervous learner driver is hard enough, but throwing in your older brother’s hot, smug, patronising best friend to be your instructor? Yeah...definitely not making things easier.

❯ pairings: jaemin x fem!reader

❯ genre: enemies to...fuck buddies? smut

❯ words: 3.5k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, arguing, hate sex, public sex, car sex, swearing, heavy petting, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do this!), creampie, dirty talk, very tame degradation kink, literally them just arguing with each other for the entire 3k words.

an: this is very influenced by the british driving experience—hence the manual car propaganda.

Look, driving a manual is hard. There’s just too much stuff to remember all at once—gears, pedals, mirrors, observations. Honestly, you don’t understand why anyone who values their sanity would choose to drive a manual car. If it were up to you, you’d be driving around in an automatic. But it’s not up to you. Because your brother, Mark, is paying for your driving lessons.

And Mark, being the car-obsessed gearhead he is, insists that everyone should learn manual—“So you can drive any car, no limitations,” he preaches. Even when you dragged yourself through the front door on the Friday night of your third failed driving test, you thought maybe, just maybe, your stubborn older brother would show a little grace. Let you switch, take the easy route.

He didn’t. Of course he didn’t.

Instead, he did something worse.

He sent Jaemin.

Na Jaemin.

Mark’s old college roommate—who, according to your brother, is the best teacher in the world, a saint suited with endless patience and encouragement. But if those qualities exist, they’ve never made an appearance around you. Because, from the very first lesson (four torturous sessions ago), Jaemin’s been nothing but a snarky, patronising ass. 

You hate him. And he hates you—clearly.

Sure, you may have driven on the wrong side of the road once. And stalled on a hill. And very nearly veered the two of you into oncoming traffic. But those were all accidents—you’re a learner. It’s not your fault.

Honestly, it’s Mark’s fault. 

Because you’re already a nervous driver, and throwing in a hot, built guy who slouches into the passenger seat like he owns the car doesn’t exactly help. Not with his long legs spread wide, and that muscled arm draped casually along the window, long fingers tapping a lazy rhythm against the doorframe.

It’s a distraction. He’s a distraction. A hot, smirking, condescending distraction with perfect teeth and zero empathy.

“The light is on green,” Jaemin says flatly.

You blink. “W-what?”

He doesn't even turn to look at you. Just gestures lazily toward the windscreen. “If you stopped checking me out, you’d see the traffic light has changed. That means go.”

Your jaw drops, and you finally peel your eyes off him, squinting at the green hue now glaring in your face. “I know, asshole.”

“Then go.”

You want to scream, but you don't. Instead, you slam the clutch, jam the car into first gear with more force than necessary, and the car jerks forward. You thank God, because you just narrowly avoidied stalling again, but Jaemin is never grateful. 

“You’re snapping the clutch up too fast,” he comments. “You have to find the bite, then add gas. Keep revving the engine like that and you’re gonna wreck the clutch.”

“I was not revving the engine,” you mutter, mostly to yourself. But of course, that doesn’t stop him.

“You were. Because you’re scared of stalling. But if you actually planned ahead and stopped rushing—”

“I won’t stall, yeah, yeah, I know.” You cut him off, gripping the wheel tighter. 

“Then apply it.”

You’re about to lose it. You hate the way he talks to you like you’re ten years younger than him—like you’re some clueless kid. It makes you want to punch him in that smug mouth of his. But that’d only prove his point that you’re immature and feed his ego. 

So, you grit your teeth, suck in a breath, and try to ignore the way your heart’s thudding against your ribcage and your palms go slick on the wheel. You’re trying. God, you’re trying. But he makes it impossible to concentrate.

“You can’t drive around in first gear, this is a thirty zone.”

“I know—”

“No, you clearly don’t—fuck—pull the car over!”

His voice slices through the air and your stomach flips violently. You yank the wheel toward the kerb, the tires bouncing as the car lurches to a halt. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Jaemin’s lip twitch (about to make some smartass comment about you mounting the pavement) but the fury in your expression makes him think twice.

The second the engine cuts, you explode.

“What the hell is your problem?” you snap, unbuckling your seatbelt and twisting in your seat to face him. “If you hate this so much, then don’t show up! Mark’s not forcing you to sit in this car with me, Jaemin. I could find someone else to help me.”

“Oh, totally. I’d love to make room for driving instructor number eleven,” he bites.

"Then do it," you sneer, slumping back into the driver’s seat with a shrug, arms folded tight across your chest.

He drags a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. "Seriously, Y/N, I’m trying to help you," he says. "But you don’t listen. You never listen—"

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must’ve missed the part where you actually helped. All I’ve heard for the past four weeks is how shit I am at this.”

“Because you’re not even trying! You act like my help is beneath you. You refuse to take any criticism.”

“Beneath me?” You laugh, bitter and breathless. “I’ve failed my test three times, you absolute dick! I clearly am trying! I’m trying so fucking hard. And all you do is sit there and mock me, which just makes it worse.”

“You need tough love! This isn’t a joke—driving is serious. People's lives are on the line. Your life is on the line.”

That makes you swallow.

“If you’re talking about that time I almost hit that cyclist, that wasn’t my fault—he came out of nowhere!”

Jaemin scoffs, shakes his head and tongues the side of his cheek. “You know what your problem is?”

“Oh, please. Enlighten me.”

“You’re so terrified of failing again, so you never give yourself a real chance to get it right. You can’t let go of your pride, so every little mistake makes you panic, and you do something stupid. And then you blame everyone else for it.”

Your jaw drops. Then a furious exhale leaves your lungs. “You are—unbelievable. You’re such a—”

“You’re not listening to me,” Jaemin growls, cutting you off. “Again. You’re not listening.”

“I don’t care. Fuck you—”

But before you can finish the very creative insult forming in your throat, his hand shoots out—fisting the front of your hoodie, yanking you toward him. And then his mouth crashes into yours. Brutal and angry and heated.

You freeze. For one heartbeat. Then another.

Your whole body goes still—except your lips, which betray you, parting instinctively for him. You sink into it before you can think better of it, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket like it might steady the way your heart is rattling against your ribs. It doesn’t. 

Because he tastes like cinnamon and black coffee. So fucking predictable. So him. And, of course, unfairly good. Which just pisses you off more. He tastes good, and you like it. 

The kiss is harsh. Messy. Teeth knock, lips drag, because even now, the two of you are fighting for control. There’s no rhythm. No grace. Just lust and resentment colliding together in the ugliest way possible.

His hand grips your hoodie tighter, like he doesn’t trust you not to pull away. Honestly, he half expected you to slap him for kissing you. He didn’t expect you to gasp, to open your mouth and let him in. Let his tongue slide against yours, hot and wet and so damn hungry.

You feel the press of his thumb against your sternum, the subtle tremble in his wrist, and it hits you—weeks of tension finally snapping loose.

It’s not romantic. It’s not soft. It’s—what the hell are you thinking?

You pull away first, shaking his grip off your hoodie. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Jaemin blinks, looking just as stunned as you feel—pupils blown wide, chest heaving. He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up further. "I don’t know... you just—fuck, you drive me insane," he mutters. "I just wanted to shut you up."

“Oh, so your first thought was to kiss me?” you snap, swiping your sleeve across your mouth like you can erase the feel of him. A small part of you is glad it doesn’t. “That’s how you deal with people who annoy you? Because if so, you need a HR department!”

“No,” he grits out, jaw clenched. “You’re not just people. You’re—you’re impossible to be around.”

"Maybe you’re the one with the issue!” you hiss. “Plenty of people enjoy my company. You just don’t know how to be around me without being a smug, condescending prick!"

His expression twists "I’m trying to fucking help you," he says. "But, clearly, you don’t want help. You just want to fight, don’t you? You want to pick a fight because that’s all you know how to do."

“Because you infuriate me!” you shout. “You barge in here, all patronising and hot, acting like you know everything, acting like you’re better than everyone, like you’re better than me—”

You don’t get to finish.

He lunges across the console before either of you can think better of it, grabbing your face and kissing you hard. Again. 

His seatbelt strains as he twists toward you. You meet him with equal force, kissing him back like you can knock some sense into him with your mouth.

He groans into it, deep and guttural, and then he’s hauling you closer, shoving his seatbelt over his head and dragging you half onto his lap. The centre console digs into your hip, but you don’t care. Your knees press against the door, your hand grips the headrest behind him. Every inch of the car feels too small for the way he’s kissing you. Too hot.

His hands are everywhere. One tangled in your hair, the other pressing flat against the small of your back like he’s trying to fuse you to him.

You gasp when his mouth trails briefly to your jaw, your throat. “You’re such a jerk,” you whisper breathlessly.

“Shut up,” he mutters, before his lips crash into yours again.

And you do. You shut up (for once) letting him kiss you breathless while his fingers slip beneath the hem of your hoodie, calloused pads dragging over overheated skin. You shiver, nerves buzzing from the way your body is betraying you in all the worst ways. With the worst person,

“You're a nightmare,” he growls against your mouth. 

“So stop kissing me,” you bite back, fingers fisting his t-shirt.

He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t.

Your back hits the glovebox as he shifts, pulling you fully into his lap. Your knees knock against the dash, thighs bracketing his hips, breath catching as you straddle him in the cramped passenger seat. Your head tips back, knuckles going white where they clutch his shoulders. 

“This is so stupid,” you murmur.

“Yeah,” he says, lips brushing your throat. “Say that again when you’re not grinding on me.”

You shove at his chest—but not hard enough to hurt. “Fuck you.”

His hands slide lower. Gripping. Pressing. Desperate. “Oh you’re going to.”

He rolls your hips against him, firm and rough, and you feel him—all of him. Hardening beneath the thin fabric of his sweatpants. The pressure sends a jolt through you, because if you’re really ‘going to’ fuck him, the size of him already has you intimidated.

You whimper despite yourself. It’s pathetic. Weak. And it turns him on so damn much. 

His head falls back with a dull thud, eyes squeezing shut like he’s in pain. “Fuck—why can’t you make those sounds with me all the time,” he groans, voice hoarse, “instead of running that pretty little mouth?”

You don’t answer. Not with words. Just keep grinding down, breath catching with each pass over his straining cock. You’re soaked. Your jeans are too tight. Everything is too hot. Too much.

“Fuck,” you pant, “you.”

He huffs a laugh, then brushes your hair over one shoulder, exposing your neck. His lips find your ear. Teeth grazing. “We’ve already established you’re going to,” he smirks. “But first—”

His hand slides between your bodies. 

“—you’re going to get yourself off on my thigh like the filthy girl I know you are.”

You’re about to repeat those two words again, but he captures them with a kiss—swallowing them down with a simple swipe of his tongue before he looks down to where you’re rutting against him.

You’re not sure when your jeans became the enemy, but they are now—tight, rough, in the way. Every twist of your hips adds to the unbearable friction, your breath catching in your throat with every grind. You’re not supposed to be doing this. Not here. Not with him.

But Jaemin’s thigh is solid beneath you, and his hands—God, his hands—know exactly where to go, how to hold you steady and drive you crazy in the same breath.

“You’re such a pain in the ass,” he grits, fingers digging into your waist. “Can’t follow a single instruction when you’re behind the wheel, but now? Suddenly you’re fucking little miss obedient.”

You want to slap him. Or kiss him. Or both. Probably both.

“You think you’re funny?” you hiss, but your voice cracks as his thigh flexes, and your hips jolt in response. “You think you’re winning right now?”

He leans in, lips brushing your cheek—just shy of a kiss. “Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, condescension dripping from every syllable, “I know I am.”

“You’re soaking,” he adds, palm skating down your front before slipping inside your jeans, into your panties.

“You are the most arrogant, insufferable, smug bastard I’ve ever met,” you pant against his mouth. “And I hate you.”

“Good,” he breathes, before surging forward again.

His mouth trails downward—jaw, neck, collarbone. Tongue licking over one of the few marks he just made. Your hips jerk when he bites, just a little too hard—and he groans  like he felt it in his own skin.

“Can’t believe you’re this wet for me and still have the nerve to talk back.”

“I can multitask,” you gasp, grabbing his wrist as he reaches for your jeans. He pauses, looking up so his eyes meet yours—and for a moment, the lust between you stutters.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asks, low and serious.

You hate how long you hesitate. Hate how breathless you sound when you whisper, “No.”

He smirks. “Didn’t think so.”

Then your jeans are open, and his fingers slide into your underwear—hot, teasing, and maddeningly slow. You cry out, head dropping to his shoulder, clutching at the back of his neck as two of his fingers start to circle your clit. 

“God, you’re shaking,” he groans, lips brushing your ear. “You’re gonna cum like this? From barely anything? What happened to all that attitude?”

“Shut up,” you whimper, grinding shamelessly into his hand. “Just shut the hell up—”

“Not a chance.”

His fingers dip lower, circling the wet entrance of your pussy before he presses in deeper, and your whole body tenses, that coil in your belly winding tighter with every thrust.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” he breathes. “Come on, sweetheart. Prove me right. I love it when you do.”

You hate him. You really do. But your body doesn’t care. It burns and trembles and demands more. Your nails dig into his shoulders as he curls his fingers just right—and then you’re falling apart, hips jerking, a strangled cry ripped from your throat before you can stop it.

Jaemin doesn’t stop until you’re trembling in his lap, wrecked and slick with sweat. When you finally lift your head to look up at him, he’s watching you intensely. Quiet for once. Hell, if you knew letting him finger you would shut him up, you’d have let him a long time ago.

Then, slowly, patronisingly slowly, he pulls his hand from your jeans, eyes locked on yours as he brings his fingers to his mouth.

You slap his shoulder. Hard. “You’re disgusting.”

He grins around his fingers. “You didn’t seem to mind a minute ago.”

“Whatever,” you mutter, still breathless. You glance down. His hands are still on your hips. “Let go of me.”

“Say please.”

“Fuck you.”

He leans in, lazily sucking another finger. “I already did.”

Your hand moves before you think—gripping his chin, nails digging into his jaw. Not a slap. Not a kiss. Just heat. Just challenge.

“You’re really starting to piss me off,” you whisper. “Keep pushing, and I might actually lose control and kill you!”

That look flashes in his eyes again—that dangerous glint that says he likes it when you fight. But instead of rising to the bait, he just smirks.

“I am pushing,” he says. “But you’re the one currently dripping down my thigh. So tell me, sweetheart…” His fingers slide into your hair, tugging just enough to make your breath catch. “Who’s really in control?”

You don’t answer. Just stare. Flushed. Still trembling, still aching. Then, leisurely, you lean in—close enough that his breath stalls.

“I am,” you bite, nipping his bottom lip as you yank his hoodie up over his shoulders. “And I’m going to prove it.”

He grins—wild and eager. “Then fucking show me.”

Your fingers tighten in his hoodie, dragging it off with enough force to make his smirk falter, only slightly. His eyes are black now—blown wide with want, with need—and for the second time ever in his life, Jaemin is silent.

He just watches.

And you take.

Your mouth slams into his, teeth biting at his lip before you drag your mouth down to his neck, sucking onto the skin to return your own mark. His hands fumble with your jeans again, this time yanking them down your thighs enough to slip your panties to the side. 

You help shove his sweatpants down past his ass—just far enough to free his cock. And then he’s wrapping a hand around himself, fisting his length with slow, deliberate strokes—taunting, as you watch with parted lips. 

He’s so big and thick and pretty, your brain starts pounding like it’s bitten off more than it can handle. You hesitate for a moment, but then you remember—this is about proving you still have control. You want this. You want to prove him wrong.

So, you slide back into his lap, straddling him fully, your bare skin meeting his with a gasp that rips through both of you. His hand slides between your thighs again, not to guide—just to tease. Just to feel how ready you are.

“Scared?” he mocks in a we whisper.

You glare, reaching down to line him up with your pussy. “Shut up.”

Then you sink down—slow, agonising—and you both break at the same time.

“Fuck—” he grits, head falling back, eyes rolling. “You feel—holy shit.”

You can barely breathe. He’s thick, hot, stretching you just past the edge of pain—grounding you in something that feels too good to be allowed. It’s not fair that a guy like him gets to be this good at fucking. But here he is. Fingers digging into your hips, guiding you into a rhythm that’s filthy, desperate, and anything but slow.

You ride him like it’s a fight. Like you want to ruin him. And he meets you stroke for stroke, jaw clenched, sweat collecting at his temple as your bodies slap together—fast, ruthless. No pretense. No sweetness.

Just want.

Just need.

Just hate.

“I hate how good you feel,” you choke out.

He bites down on your shoulder. “Say it again.”

You moan, louder this time, not caring about the volume or the fact that you’re fucking your instructor at the side of the road. Not caring that it’s Jaemin. 

“I hate you,” you breathe. “I hate you, I hate you so much—”

His hand snakes up to curl around your throat. It’s not tight but barely there. A light pressure, just enough, to make your head spin.

“Then cum on my cock,” he growls. “One more time. Hate me for it.”

And you do.

You shatter around him, body convulsing and twitching as your mouth falls open in a broken sob that catches against his lips. He follows a heartbeat later with a ruined, throaty moan, driving into you one last time as he spills inside you—deep, hot, messy.

And then it’s quiet.

You stay there, slumped against his chest  for a moment. His hand drifts up your spine, strangely gentle now, thumb brushing the back of your neck. But then, a moment later, it does hit you. 

You scramble off his lap, cheeks flushed, thighs sticky, panties already ruined as his cum starts to leak out of you. You refuse to meet his eyes.

“I still hate you,” you mutter.

“Sure,” he says, casual as ever, tugging up his sweatpants with a smirk. “I’m giving you another lesson tomorrow. Same time.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re insane if you think I’m getting in a car with you again.”

“You’ll show,” he says,” Because you want to pass your test, don’t you?”

“Yes, but—”

“But nothing,” he chuckles, brushing a finger against your cheek. “Now that I know you can follow instructions, if you listen to me—I'll make you cum again. You seemed to really enjoy yourself.”

You hate him.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi hi!!! Can I request Bob and Void relationship headcanons please! Love your work and I hope you have a good day!

Void’s section of this is possessive, controlling and kinda manipulative in a way, so I might as well put that out there for you all.

Bob is the sweetest man who’s been given the hardest time, yet he still smiles and is warm and beautiful and gentle with how he goes through your relationship with you.

Seriously this man thinks he’s the luckiest person in existence to have you in his life, he’s always waking up everyday with the thought that you were with him, it’s enough to have him smile and feel giddy and feel as if he could do anything. (He literally can do anything, he’s powerful and invincible)

Yet while all the power he has, you made him feel the most powerful in his entire life and he couldn’t even explain just how much you mean to him, he could try but feared he’d only trip up on his words and just end up sheepish and apologising for not being able to get his words straight.

But seriously you’ve blessed this man in ways you can barely understand. You’ve given him hope, security, a safe haven for when he has his really bad days and been nothing but an encouraging force when he has his good days and did the smallest things like get out of bed or shower.

Your support and understanding of his situation was something he thought he’d never get, something he feared he be called a burden for, and yet you stood by him no matter what and still confidently called him the man you loved with your whole heart and nothing less.

You didn’t see no reason to view him less when he was unable to get out of bed, but instead you kept him company and made sure he was comfortable, you reminded him that you weren’t going anywhere if he wasn’t going. You wanted to stay with him and gently kiss his forehead, caress your fingers across his dark bag and press your forehead against his and just stay there as though you were trying to reach his thoughts and tell them to cut him some slack.

All Bob could do during those low point was be on the brink of tears with how gently you cared for him while still being from enough to remind him that he should at least eat or drink a little, you didn’t care about missing out on anything, not when your partner was internally suffering and you’d gladly care for him until he wasn’t able to make it past his bedroom door. He didn’t believe that he deserved you at most time but you’d always peck him on the lips before he could even finish the sentence.

‘You are just as deserving of anything just like anyone else, if not more and I will not have you talk down on yourself, you are my partner and I will stand by your side whenever you need me to.’ You tell him earnestly, holding his face within your hands. ‘You need me and I need you just as much, if not more, I’m not leaving you to rot when I know I can at least be of some help. I love you too much to be so heartless and shallow.’

Hugs are a thing you do when words fail you, you just hold each other closely, foreheads pressed to one another as you just allowed your gently caresses and calm breathing speak how you felt at ease and at peace with one another. It was a difficult start when Bon would flinch when your hands touched his cheeks, so you took it one step at a time until he was poetically refusing to let go of your wrists, keeping your hands pressed to his cheeks as he melts in your touch, memorising it as best as he could while looking at you adoringly.

He made you feel seen and loved in a way that left you speechless, breathless but in the best way. You wanted all of his love and you didn’t have to say much to get it either as he was eager to give it to you with the soft, uncertain kisses he left upon your cheek or forehead and smiling sheepishly afterwards as he asks if he did good with burning cheeks.

‘You always do good for me baby.’ You replied, which only made his cheeks burn redder as his smile stretched across his face.

His hands can barely stay still for a single second. They need to be doing something and they’re favouring to do? Fiddle with your fingers or hold onto some part of you when you were within reach, whether it be your shirt, jacket sleeve or jeans. Bob’s fingers will fiddle with it or your fingers as you intertwine your hands, allowing him to caress your knuckles with his thumb or squeeze your hand three times to tell you he loved you.

Loving Bob was a dream come true for you, loving you was a dream come true for Bob, loving each other as deeply and a truly as you two did was something envied by all as a love as innocent and pure as yours was surly the stuff of romance books and happily ever after. You were his guiding light and he was your golden guardian.

Bob gets incredibly flustered when you wear his sweatshirts, seriously as if you couldn’t be more beautiful in this man’s eyes, you had to go and steal his sweater and make this man’s heart go into overdrive. He’s staring at you the entire day like a lovesick puppy until someone (John the prick) tells him that he’s staring and suddenly you were far too precious for him to look at.

You secretly loved his adoring staring and his inability to look away, so you smack John in the back of his head for being a prick towards your lover, saying that if there was anyone allowed to look at you it was Bob, so he should be the one to avert his eyes from you not your sweet and handsome man.

You’d fight god for Bob, he’s telling you not to but your mind is already made up. You must protect your sweet boy who runs extremely warm and is all powerful and invincible, yet you wanted to coddle him to your chest and kiss him senseless and you do. His sweet smile and soft eyes were enough to have you wanting to spend the day giving him as many kisses possible.

Forehead, cheek, nose, lips, eyelids, jaw, chin, neck, behind his ear, everywhere you will kiss this man as he stand awkwardly and giggles cutely. You smother him in affection but not too much to overwhelm him, just enough to have his cheeks flush and him holding onto your waist tightly as if he didn’t want to let go.

Loving Bob was warm, soft, sweet, gentle and kind as your first kiss was one to remember for certain, it’s gentle a little sloppy but it was worth the breathlessness you felt after pulling away from him, seeing his disheveled apparent and bewilderment within his eyes as though he didn’t expect himself to do such a thing, to take charge. You on the other hand wanted him to do it again a million times over for the rest of your shared life.

He treasures everything you give him, whether it’s plushies, they’re on his bed even if they take up half of it. He doesn’t like leaving any out, he holds them all to his chest when he sleeps with a massive smile upon his face, you could give him a bracelet you made and he’s never taking it off. It’s apart of him now forever and each time he touches it, he knows you’re with him wherever you were. He loves having a piece of you with him at all times, a reminder of who’s waiting for him or he’s waiting for every time you come back to the Watchtower from missions.

Bob is there waiting with wide open arms to hold you against him as he breaths you in, happy that you were okay.

Void

The opposite of Bob.

He’s knowing of what he wants and he’ll take it no matter what, he doesn’t care who stands in his way becuase who can take down a god like entirely like him? Absolutely no one.

You are his most precious possession and he’s a selfish dragon hoarding you away from everyone who could want you as much as he does.

Void doesn’t share and he’s not going to start now either, whoever looks at you longingly is now a shadow on a pavement somewhere. He doesn’t care about anything but keeping you all for himself, he’s selfish with you and would hoard all of your time and attention, so much so that you won’t noticed that Void has kept you away from everyone else for the entire day.

You couldn’t see him smile but you could feel that he was whenever you realised that you feel for his trap all the time.

He’s confident in his powers, he’s not concerned with anyone being more powerful than him when he was the pinochle of power itself in shadowy form. A form that can change appearance from time to time but he was perfectly content with his current one for the time being.

it was unassuming and yet still strikes that fear that something was wrong but not in the uncanny valley type of way, but close enough to understand his level of threat that was bubbling underneath.

He’s not afraid to show that you were his, not in the slightest. He’ll show off that you were his however he can with his possessive grabs and reminders that you can’t exactly escape him, for he’ll only follow you until you retuned to his arms like you should.

Got jealous of Bob and wanted whatever he had, he doesn’t like it when people have what he wants, what he desires and craves carnally. So why not just steal you away? It’s not like you minded at all, so what’s the problem?

Void is the one making the first moves, he does it in a way that tells you that this was your reality now, that he was what you should be thinking about constantly and without fail, that he should be the only thing that matters to you and no one else.

His kisses were demanding of attention, demanding you of your devotion and love and affection, things that were all his simply because you were his, his alone to love and be loved by as selfishly as he wanted.

Keeps a close eye on the people you have within your life, if he senses that they were trying to put distance between you and him, then he will rid them however he sees fit, for no one was allowed to come between you and Void at all.

His hold over you was airtight and it was near impossible to escape it as he could appear before you within a blink of an eye as his pinprick eyes stare deeply into your own, he knows where you are without having to try so hard either, he finds it humorous when you do try to escape his gaze, the hunt entertained him greatly as he followed you at a slower pace.

He makes you think you’re somewhat in control, only for the truth to come out as he reminds you that he lets you off with certain things because he loves you and only you. So you should treat him the same by dedicating yourself to him only and no one else, he didn’t care the relationship you had with others, they didn’t matter as much as your relationship with him.

Is into the whole predator/prey thing. Void obviously being the predator and you being the prey each and every time.

Knows your fears so intimately that it shouldn’t come as a surprise if you act out he’ll just trap you in your worst moments until you’ve learned your lesson, but this was a rare punishment because Void was under the belief that you could do no wrong and that it was everyone else trying to poison your mind against him.

There are moments where he acts like a gentleman towards you as he kisses the back of your hand, holding onto it tightly in a way that erased any chances of putting distance between the two of you, has his hands respectfully upon your waist but his grip was almost iron clad and kept you pressed to his chest in a manner that screamed ownership.

Void hordes you like a dragon with its gold, keeping you hidden from all, keeping you in his version of safety and protection, unable to let you go because he didn’t want to let you go and refused to do so. For you were his to have and to hold and to keep, no one else should be granted a glimpse of you at all.

[angelicyoongie]

(you're) always on my mind (Il)

— pairing: bird hybrid jimin x (f) reader — word count: 5.4k — summary: When your workplace announces that they've decided to promote collaboration between departments, you suddenly find yourself face to face with your sworn nemesis Park Jimin. Your plans to avoid him are quickly foiled as his presence turns the floor into a madhouse, your coworkers all vying for his attention. With so many people at his beck and call, why is it that Jimin is always so insistent on getting in your way?

01 - 02 - 03 / Masterlist

You stifle a yawn, blinking your bleary eyes at your screen.

It's not that the project is so demanding that it's keeping you from sleeping, it's more so ... everything else. It's been two weeks since you started working with Jimin and those weeks have consisted of jealous looks from the bird hybrid's groupies and dealing with an increasingly infuriating partner.

The thing is, Park Jimin just won't leave you alone.

"Coffee, for you."

You look up at Jimin as he gently pushes a takeaway cup over to your side of the table. He holds another one in his hand, presumably for himself, and gives you an encouraging nod as he catches your eye.

You tentatively reach out for the drink, finding it just the right side of hot as you wrap your fingers around it. You eye it suspiciously as you bring it up to your nose, giving the cup a discreet sniff. It simply smells like coffee, nothing more and nothing less. You doubt Jimin would poison you – but you wouldn't be surprised if the bird hybrid's definition of funny would be to prank you by putting something less than savory in your drink. Still, you hold his gaze as you bring the cup to your lips, determined not to give him the satisfaction of reacting if there is anything wrong with it.

You take a small sip, expecting the worst, but the taste that hits your tongue is normal. You drink a little more just to be sure but the taste remains the same. Based on the roast, you know that it's from the café down the block, the one that sells really good but horribly overpriced coffee. You've gone there with Jungkook a few times for a special pick-me-up when work has been rough but it's not something you would splurge on regularly.

"Thank you," You mumble, confused yet grateful that Jimin went out of his way to buy it for you.

Jimin's lips curve with a proud smile as he sees you enjoying the drink, his feathers ruffling happily as he takes his seat.

"My pleasure," His eyes crease under the force of his grin, the pale blush in his cheeks quickly hidden by his coffee cup.

You turn your attention back to your work, determined to get as much as possible done. Somehow it feels like you've seen more of Jimin in the past two weeks than you did Jungkook in the past three years, even though you worked side by side for all that time. It might be because Jimin insisted that you would work on the project together – squeezed into the smallest meeting room the department offers. If you're not looking at your screen, there's nowhere to look but directly at Jimin.

The bird hybrid just seems to constantly demand your attention in one way or another. If he's not sitting in front of you, he's walking around in circles, airing his ideas out loud to get your input. No matter what changes you propose, Jimin is always ready to challenge them, often turning a simple yes or no question into a discussion. He has a peculiar working style that absolutely grinds your gears but you can't deny that it works decently well.

Though, the absolute worst part of it all, is that Jimin is somehow becoming more and more attractive every day – and it's not like you can avoid looking at him. Your traitorous heart is beginning to feel confused and it certainly doesn't help that Jimin keeps pestering you about eating lunch together every day.

Even now, it's like clockwork as the time shifts to noon, Jimin's piercing eyes flicking up to meet yours as he coyly asks, "So, what are you doing for lunch today? I found this really nice ramen place just around the block a few days ago, I think you'd like–"

"Jimin-ssi!"

The smile on the bird hybrid's face turns into a grimace as the door to your private work room is flung open, his question interrupted by the same gaggle of people that never leaves him alone. The woman who called out his name, the one you've learned is another bird hybrid from Jimin's old department, sends you a hard glare when you don't immediately remove yourself from Jimin's presence.

You know this situation isn't exactly well-liked by his admirers – you've seen the frowns and heard the whispers whenever you leave the room – but she truly seems to detest the fact that you're working together in such close proximity. You're not sure what gave her the idea that you would take her precious Jimin away from her when that's the last thing you'd want to do, but you don't want to stick around to stoke that ire even more.

"It seems I'll have to decline, Park. Do enjoy your ramen though."

You quickly grab your essentials, shooting Jimin a strained smile before you slip out of the room. As scary as that woman is, you're thankful for her interruption today. A small part of you was tempted to take Jimin up on his offer for once, just to see why he's trying so hard to share a meal with you.

Shaking your head, you beeline straight for Jungkook, desperate for some fresh air and to look at something that isn't Park Jimin. You think you might be starting to go a little crazy from being cooped up in that room. That has to be the only explanation as to why you'd be willing to spend more time with him.

Of course, you should have known that Jimin wouldn't give up that easily.

You've been working on the project for a month now and despite the constant interruptions by his groupies, he never misses a chance to ask you out for lunch. He is nothing if not persistent. You have steeled yourself since that day you almost slipped up – now more determined than ever to not give into Jimin's charms. The thing is, you still can't figure out if he genuinely wants to share a friendly meal with you or if it's just another ploy to one-up you somehow. So many weeks of working together has started to shift your perception of him and you can concede that he's not as horrible as you first thought, but that's all there is to it.

You hold back a tired groan as you settle into the two-seater squished into the corner of the room, taking the tablet Jimin hands you with a muttered thank you.

The project has finally gotten to the stage where it's time to review all the ideas and plans you have so far so that you can narrow it down and choose the best direction to move forward with. Once you settle on that today, you should only have to spend a few more weeks crammed in here with Jimin before the design department takes over.

You watch as Jimin chooses the chair next to the couch, his wings looking awfully squished in that narrow space. The bird hybrid looks as unbothered as ever, tapping around on the tablet in his lap. Still, you can't shake the feeling that maybe Jimin has just gotten so used to conforming and contorting himself in public spaces that he doesn't even notice it anymore.

Clearing your throat, you catch Jimin's attention, his eyes as attentive as ever as they find yours. You nod at his compressed wings as you say, "Let's switch places, you look uncomfortable."

"Oh."

Jimin stares at you as if you've grown two heads, the purples in his eyes twinkling under the overhead light as he cocks his head. He glances over his shoulder as if he had forgotten he even had wings, seemingly considering your offer for a second before shaking his head.

"That's okay. You're tired and the couch is more comfortable than this chair anyway," He smiles.

"Park, you're crammed in there," You huff, ignoring the warmth that creeps up the back of your neck at Jimin's consideration. "You have wings, I don't. Please take the couch."

You can tell from the gentle look that crosses Jimin's face that he's going to chivalrously deny your offer once again. Before you can stop yourself, the part of your brain that maybe cares just a little opens your mouth and you find yourself saying, "Then let's share the couch at least. It would still be better than that chair."

For a moment, the shock on your face is mirrored on Jimin's. The bird hybrid shakes off the surprise much quicker, his smile brightening to a grin as he pushes himself out of the chair.

"Well, if you insist, then I'll gladly accept your offer."

The couch dips under Jimin's weight, his deep blue wings taking up so much space it almost feels like you've squeezed in another person between the two of you.

"Are you sure this is okay?"

You can tell by Jimin's shuffling that he's trying to make himself as small as possible and that just won't do. You won't allow him to view himself as an inconvenience.

Scooting forward on the couch, you leave a decent gap behind your back and the seat, making room for Jimin's wings.

"There, you can relax them a bit if you'd like. It looks painful holding your wings so tightly to your back all the time."

You look away before you can read Jimin's expression, turning back to the tablet in your lap. You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, belatedly realizing that maybe you just overstepped a boundary – that maybe it would've been better to wait until Jimin asked instead of just assuming what he needed.

Your cheeks turn warm with embarrassment as you mindlessly click around on the screen, your mind elsewhere as you try to come up with a decent apology. Judging by how Jimin hasn't said anything yet, you fear that you really did do something inappropriate.

Just as the words reach the tip of your tongue, your hands clenched awkwardly in your lap, you feel movement behind your back. Jimin lets out a deep, relieved sigh as he loosens up the position of his wings, letting them splay out as much as the couch allows. Even with the added space you gave him, his wings are so large that you can feel the feathers ruffling against the back of your shirt in tandem with Jimin's breaths.

"Thank you."

Jimin says it so softly that it catches you off-guard, your heart skipping a beat from how tender his voice sounds.

It seems it has caused your brain to short-circuit, because the next thing that comes out of your mouth is, "Are they heavy? Your wings, I mean."

Jimin is quiet for a moment. "Yes and no? They're the same as any other limb so I'm normally not very conscious of them. I don't notice the weight, but they can get tired and achy, just like an arm. Choosing to work for a human-based company probably wasn't the best decision on my part – it's not exactly made to accommodate someone like me."

You see Jimin shrug out of the corner of your eye.

"I see," You murmur.

The pit of your stomach feels unexpectedly heavy. Even though Jimin is your sworn nemesis, it still upsets you that he has accepted that hurting himself is the only way he'll be able to fit in. It makes you wonder if Hoseok is experiencing the same thing too – if the deer hybrid hasn't told you simply because he's expected as a hybrid to change himself to fit in alongside humans.

Jimin lightly knocks his arm into yours, the touch shaking you out of your thoughts.

"We should start reviewing our work if we want to go home today," He says, raising an eyebrow as he angles his tablet in your direction. "But if you want to spend more time with me–"

"There's no time like the present, let's start reviewing!" You sputter, tapping your screen rapidly in other to wake it back up.

Jimin lets out a low snort at how easily flustered you are, hiding his smile behind his hand as he begins to look through your collected ideas.

Once your embarrassment dies down, you find that the review session with Jimin goes by without a hitch. For the most part, you both agree on what ideas to keep and which to scrap, making your review session more productive than you had anticipated. You had imagined that Jimin would oppose all of your picks just to torture you, but it's quite the opposite. The bird hybrid listens and agrees with your chosen ideas and for the few he doesn't like – he provides good reasons as to why they won't work. You find yourself nodding along to his criticism, agreeing with the points you hadn't thought of yourself. Not only that, Jimin seems to do the same – in turn valuing your input and insight when you go through his proposed plans. It's such a stark contrast to the Jimin you've gotten used to that it's enough to make you wonder if you stepped into an alternative universe this morning.

You pause as you click on the next slide, your brows furrowing as you see a familiar idea. 

You had included it in your proposal to Mr. Shin, the same one you threw away and never got to turn in. So how did it end up here?

"What's this?" You ask Jimin, pointing to your screen. "I never submitted these ideas."

"Ah," Jimin glances at your tablet, scratching the feathers at the back of his neck as he admits, "I did."

"I saw you throwing out your proposal when Mr. Shin announced that he had picked mine. It didn't feel right that you spent so much time on it and didn't even get to submit it because of me so I, well, turned it in for you. After you left that day."

You blink at him. "You went through my trash?"

"Well, it sounds bad when you say it like that!" Jimin groans. "I wanted us both to have an equal chance. Once Mr. Shin looked at it, he realized that your ideas were just as good as mine and wanted them implemented. I was favored because I'm a transfer, that's all. And I would never steal your ideas – I told him that I would refuse to use your concepts if you weren't willing to work together on this project."

You're not sure you like how it makes your stomach flutter. The high walls you've built to protect yourself are crumbling more and more with each passing day you spend together.

"Thank you, I appreciate that."

The smile Jimin gives you is almost blinding, his wings curving slightly inward almost as if they're trying to get a little closer to you.

You hate to admit it but maybe Jimin isn't as bad as you made him out to be. You may have imagined him as your enemy, someone who only wanted to tear you down and steal your opportunities, but so far Jimin has been nothing but nice to you. A little annoying sometimes sure, but he's never done anything malicious.

You offer him a smile in return, noting how the tops of his cheeks seem a little more red than usual.

Maybe it's about time that you admit that Jimin deserves a second chance.

"I've missed you," Jungkook whines, clinging to your arm. "Work is so boring without you!"

"We literally eat lunch together every day," You laugh.

You use your sleeve to wipe off the layer of dust that has settled on your monitor over the last few weeks. Jungkook holds on tighter to your other arm, pouting as he says, "That's not the same."

"I know," You sigh, lightly knocking your head against Jungkook's, "I missed you too."

After six weeks of working with Jimin in that small room, it almost feels foreign to be back at your desk with so many people milling about. You're honestly thankful that the bird hybrid had a meeting outside the office today, it gives you half a day to work without any disruptions. Your poor heart needs a few hours of calm and there's nothing like Jungkook's antics to take your mind off the rather confusing feelings you've been dealing with lately.

"Soooo.." Jungkook leans back in his chair, his eyes wide with faux innocence as he asks, "How has it been working with the enemy?  You haven't complained as much the last couple of weeks."

It seems you're quiet for just a moment too long, Jungkook letting out a gasp as he exclaims, "Don't tell me Park Jimin has won you over?"

"Shut up," You huff, knocking his hand away from your arm. You bite the inside of your cheek, annoying flashes of Jimin's smile as you accept the coffee he brings you every morning – and how he never ceases to be irritatingly attentive and kind – racing through your mind.

"I guess he isn't as bad as I first thought," You concede.

Jungkook hums, avoiding your sharp glare as he turns to his computer. You can tell from the slight smirk on his face that he definitely isn't going to let this go – he's just going to wait until the perfect moment to interrogate you.

"Interesting."

"Don't make it weird," You hiss, "He's just a decent person, nothing more."

Jungkook nods. "As I said – interesting."

You rub the skin between your brows, already regretting not faking your disdain for Jimin. It seems your time apart from Jungkook has softened you too much and made you forget just how much of a persistent gremlin he can be when he thinks there's some juicy gossip to be uncovered.

You boot up your computer with a groan. You still have four hours to go before Jimin will return to the office and Jungkook is going to use every available second to interrogate you until he does. A fleeting, hopeful thought crosses your mind that maybe Jimin will come back sooner than he's supposed to in order to save you. Just as soon as you realize what you were just daydreaming about, you pinch your leg so hard it makes you wince, bringing yourself back to reality.

You were so excited to have some time away from Jimin but the moment he's gone, you're what, missing him?

You shake your head, ignoring the little flutter in your stomach that confirms you're right.

Sure, Jimin might be charming and sweet when it's just the two of you but the bird hybrid is an absolute flirt and you really shouldn't be reading anything into his advances. It's a recipe for getting hurt.

It seems the time you've spent alone with him has made you forget just how shameless he is when it comes to getting attention. You don't have to wait very long, only a few hours in fact, until that reminder smacks you in the face again.

"You're so annoying," You whine, giving Jungkook's chair a shove.

The moment Mr. Shin left his office for a meeting in another department, it was like the whole floor exhaled, low chatter bursting to life as the elevator doors closed. 

Jungkook had seen it as his chance to get some answers, his mischief mode activated, and the constant pestering was starting to get on your nerves.

"Says you," Jungkook huffs, rolling himself back to his desk. "It's a simple yes or no question! Do you like him or not?"

"I tolerate him," You say, narrowing your eyes as Jungkook grabs the arms of your chair.

He pulls your chair flush with his, his own eyes narrowing in return, "That's not what I asked."

"Too bad," You wave your hand, "That's all you're going to get."

"Don't make me tickle you," Jungkook shakes out his fingers, "You know both of us will regret that."

"Jungkook, that's inappropriate! We're at work," You hiss as you snatch one of his hands out of the air, pressing it firmly against his chest. You're not going to let Jungkook expose you as a tickle squealer in front of your coworkers just because he's curious about something you don't have an answer to yet.

"What's inappropriate?"

You jerk back at the sound of Jimin's voice, shocked that you didn't notice the bird hybrid approaching your desks. You drop Jungkook's hand as you notice Jimin's burning stare, his violet eyes fixated on where your skin touched your friend. The fact that you feel so flustered by Jimin's sudden appearance makes it hard to think, your brain refusing to catch up.

"Nothing?" You squeak. You quickly clear your throat as Jungkook snickers under his breath, adding more confidence to your voice as you say, "It's nothing. You.. You're back earlier than expected, though?"

Jimin's gaze flickers between the two of you slowly, his expression unreadable. "The meeting didn't take as long as they first assumed. They offered to take us out to lunch to make up for it but I told them I already had an appointment I couldn't be late for."

Your heart thumps in your chest as Jimin pointedly looks your way. Surely he didn't rush back just to ask you out to lunch like he always does?

"Anyway," Jimin says, "I wanted to tell you that I'm back and that we can hold our progress meeting after our break is over."

"Right, sounds good," You smile.

"Talking about taking a break–"

Alarm bells start going off the moment you register Jungkook's teasing tone. The swift kick you land on the bottom of his chair is ignored, Jungkook's doe eyes spelling nothing but trouble as he continues, "If you don't have any lunch plans yet, Jimin-ssi, you'd be welcome to join us today."

It takes everything in you to not reach out and throttle him. You have no doubt Jungkook is doing this partly for the drama and partly because he thinks he's helping you in some roundabout way, but this is not it.

"I'm sure Jimin has some prior arrangement already–"

"I'd love to," Jimin's feathers ruffle happily behind his back, his beaming smile directed at you and only you, like you were the one to personally invite him. The force of it makes your heart race.

"Great!" Jungkook claps his hands, undeterred at being ignored. "Mr. Shin won't be back until the end of the day and there's only ten minutes left until lunchtime, so how about we head down now?"

Jungkook sends you a pointed look before you can protest. "Half the floor has already left, so we won't get in trouble."

"Fine," You smile through your teeth, your fleeting plan of sending Jimin to his desk and using that time to slip away foiled before you could even set it into motion. "Let's go eat lunch, then. Together."

"Let's," Jimin grins, taking a step towards the door. The bird hybrid's wings seem bigger than before, more relaxed, as he waits for you and Jungkook to grab your things.

You drag your feet as you follow Jimin, dreading the not-so-subtle questions you're sure Jungkook will be asking to test the water for you. While Jungkook is one of your closest friends and an overall great guy, you think his biggest flaw might be how much of a meddler he is.

"You and your damn muscles," You huff as Jungkook manhandles you into the elevator, blocking any chance you have at escaping.

"Please, you love them."

You only roll your eyes in response, knowing he isn't entirely wrong. You do like the extra space his muscles provide on packed elevator rides but aside from that, you couldn't be more neutral about Jungkook's body.

"Oh?" Jimin inquires, his violet eyes staring intently at Jungkook's arms, "They don't look that big?"

"I'll show you," Jungkook puffs out his chest, gladly offering his arm to the bird hybrid as a chance to show off.

Jimin wraps his hands around Jungkook's bicep, his gaze briefly flickering over to you before it returns to the man next to him. Something awed, maybe jealous, passes over Jimin's face as Jungkook flexes his muscles.

The bird hybrid doesn't shy away from squeezing and feeling up his arm, a sly smile crossing his lips as he says, "I didn't think you could get more handsome Jungkook-ssi, but look at you."

Jungkook sputters at the unexpected compliment, his cheeks turning red under Jimin's undivided attention.

You cross your arms, something unpleasant bubbling in your stomach as you watch Jimin's touch linger, the bird hybrid offering a few more compliments before the elevator announces its arrival.

Jimin exits first, leaving a flustered Jungkook behind. He looks at you with big eyes, hand covering the left side of his chest as he says, "Oh, he is good at this. I think my heart fluttered a little."

You swallow thickly, the reprimanding voice of your past self echoing in your head, reminding you that this is what Jimin is - a flirt. You're not special for receiving a little more of his attention lately, it's all just circumstance.

"You should get that checked out," You mutter, stepping out of the elevator to catch up with the bird hybrid.

Your goal is to do everything as quickly as possible – get your food, eat, and get out. But even you couldn't have expected just how awkward lunch would be.

From the moment Jimin took his seat next to you, you could feel the other people in the cafeteria staring you all down with envy. The situation certainly isn't made better by Jungkook and Hoseok - the two of them openly gawking and giggling whenever Jimin makes a comment that's even remotely funny. You know Jimin is charming, you can't deny that yourself, but you expected a little more resilience from your friends.

In the end, you end up picking at your food, unable to stomach much with the growing pit in your belly.

"Are you okay?" You glance over at Jimin, noting the concerned furrow between his brows.

"I'm fine," You force a wobbly smile, "I think I must have eaten something bad for breakfast."

"Should I go get you some medicine? There's a pharmacy right around the corner."

"It's fine." You quickly shake your head as Jimin begins to stand up, grabbing his arm to pull him back down into his seat. The bird hybrid doesn't seem convinced, his wings ruffling with protest behind his back.

"Wait, Y/n, did you try one of the protein shakes I gave you for breakfast? I told you not to drink it on an empty stomach–"

Jungkook's voice turns muffled, blending into the background noise as you shift your eyes from Jimin and meet hers across the room.

It's the same woman, the bird hybrid from Jimin's old department, who stops by your little makeshift office every day to drag him out for lunch. She's a swan, you think, known to be awfully territorial over what they consider to be theirs. And you have no doubt that she's staked her claim on Jimin, regardless of whether he knows or not. 

But he's not hers.

And he's not yours either.

The realization feels like a shot to the heart.

Even from the other side of the cafeteria, you can tell her gaze is venomous as she stares you down. The uneasy feeling in your stomach keeps growing, clawing at your insides, desperate to get out. She's looking at you like she knows what you're thinking – what you're feeling – they all are, and you absolutely cannot let Jimin find out.

"Uhm," You hastily push yourself to your feet, "I need to use the bathroom. I'm not feeling good."

You scurry off as fast as your legs can carry you, ignoring the familiar voices that call out your name. You don't stop until you reach the bathroom that's a little ways down the hall from the cafeteria.

Locking yourself in a stall, you sink onto the closed toilet lid, hands covering your face.

"Fuck," You whisper.

You like Jimin.

You can't pinpoint exactly when it happened but in retrospect, it's obvious your feelings for him have been growing for a while now, blossoming into something beyond your control. The worst part is – you don't even know if Jimin is single. It's never been a subject that has interested you before recently and you honestly just assumed that he must be taken based on the amount of attention he always garners when he walks into a room.

You take a deep breath, lightly slapping your face to bring yourself back to reality.

Jimin might be taken but he might also not be. You won't know for sure until you ask - or well, until you get Jungkook to not-so-casually bring it up with him. You might have a chance.

Until then, you just have to go out there and pretend that nothing has changed, that all is still like it was. You still have a job to do, regardless of your feelings.

Quickly washing your hands, you brace yourself to walk back into the cafeteria. Your flushed appearance can be blamed on not feeling good – you're certainly not going to admit it's because you finally understand that you like Jimin.

You tap your hands on your trousers as you step out of the bathroom, making sure they're dry as you walk back down the hallway.

Your steps halt as you reach the corner, your feet rooted to the ground as you hear Jimin's hushed voice in tandem with another. You plaster yourself to the wall, holding your breath as you listen in to what they're talking about.

"Be serious!" A female voice hisses. The swan hybrid.

"You expect her to help you? To treat you right? She's human, Jimin-ssi, she doesn't know anything about what it means to be a hybrid."

The swan hybrid spits out the word like it's a curse, followed by the sound of annoyed, rustling feathers.

"Do you think she's going to even look at you once your little project is over? She's just going to run back to her "friend"."

Oh.

She's talking about you.

The anxiety bubbling in your stomach roars back to life, your hands shaking as you find you can't do anything but listen - your feet unable to move.

Jimin's silence feels like a knife through the heart. Surely he doesn't think anything is going on between you and Jungkook? He knows you're just friends. And even so, you believed that you had grown closer lately, so much so that maybe you would continue to talk even when the project was over. But judging by his lack of response, it seems that you haven't given Jimin that impression at all.

"She doesn't deserve you. She can't do the things I can do, babe. "

You hear a deep sigh, Jimin's, his voice tight as he admits, "You're right. I know that.  She's not you–"

Before you even realize it, you're already halfway down the hallway, feet carrying you straight back to the bathroom. Your blood is roaring in your ears, the last part of Jimin's sentence mercifully too muffled for you to hear.

It seems you got this all wrong. It doesn't matter if Jimin is single, because he clearly doesn't like you like that. It seems the kindness he's been showing you has just been him being a good co-worker, keeping things civil and friendly.

You must have been projecting your feelings onto him, reading into things that didn't even exist.

How mortifying.

You stumble back into the same stall you only left a few minutes prior, eyes burning, as you lock the door behind you. You're not sure which emotion is strongest – disappointment, embarrassment, heartbreak, but it hurts all the same.

You can only hope that Jimin hasn't noticed your growing interest in the same way as the swan hybrid had.

There's only one thing you can do to save yourself from further humiliation, to make sure that doesn't happen. 

You have to pretend your feelings never changed. That you only tolerate him at best.

You have to pretend until it becomes true again.

Maybe it's time to go back to how things were, to distance yourself. Even if you fooled yourself into hoping for something more, the truth is that there is only one thing you and Jimin can be.

Enemies.

a/n: welcome back! it sure wasn't my plan to spend two months on this chapter but i've been jumping from one assignment to another and i've been more or less sick this entire time, so it sadly took me much longer than expected :( but here we are with ch 2! there will be three chapters total for this fic, so we still have one more to go.

what do you think so far? will jimin be able to clear up this misunderstanding and will the mc trust him enough to accept it? 🫣

i would love to hear your thoughts so far and reblogs are very much appreciated 💖

[haywirecompass]

also something i haven't noticed being talked about - THE TEACHERS ARE USING IT TOO!!!

rarely, obviously, and not to the same extent but still. i was at a workshop and the teacher handed out these quotes with reflective prompts, and admitted proudly that she'd asked ChatGPT for them. she talked about easy it was to get teaching materials. this was a workshop aimed at PhD students! and it was about teaching! we were recommended to use AI to help us teach! i lost all interest in the workshop after that - if they don't respect me enough to put the effort in to create teaching materials, why should i respect them enough to put any effort in?

in that same vein, it helps me have some understanding for why students use it so much, or at least for why it is so tempting.

at my uni, the biology campus is really far away from the chemistry campus, and biochem students would often have to be late for lectures because a lecture on the biology campus would be straight after one on the chemistry campus or vice versa. if the uni couldn't respect these students' time enough to avoid that simple issue, why should they respect the uni and give it their time? why should they be expected to put extra work in to catch up on what was lost because of the uni's error? i can fully understand how that becomes "let the computer do it".

also at my uni (at least in the stem department), anyone wanting to so research at the university must also do some form of teaching as part of their contract. so you get these academics who haven't had any training in teaching at all, reading out dull, convoluted slides word for word, not being able to properly answer questions (not the academics' fault tbf but i know some that have been teaching for years and never bothered to do actual training). you also get TAs not even bothering to read the guidance, simply writing "good job" when they're meant to be providing actual constructive feedback. i can fully understand thinking "well ive put all this effort in and get nothing good back, so why keep putting the effort in?"

and in my first year, there was an absolutely brutal timetable of lectures and practical labs, each of the latyer with a lab report due 3 working days later. i know i personally have agreed with posts like "you should do all your assignments in a caffeine-fuelled haze at 3am", but in reality, i really can't see myself blaming anyone in that same spot for using a tool to help with that immense workload so that they can actually take care of their health and get the right amount of sleep. especially in that first year where maybe 20% is anywhere near to what they're interested in, but they're expected to be equally good at all of it. i'd rather kids resort to ChatGPT than study drugs, ya know?

like do i agree that there is this very concerning growing lack of critical thinking? absolutely. do i think there is truth to the merit of pushing through those intense workloads? yeah at least somewhat. do i despair for the students who are refusing to grow their critical thinking skills and are relying on AI to do it for them? of course!!!

but i just think a lot of people are ignoring that it is starting to go both ways.

at the same workshop, we were asked to research a concept, and 3 out of the 5 in the group immediately went to ChatGPT. and like, INSISTED we just use that summary. these are postgrads doing masters and PhDs. we were given post it notes to write something very simple and i had to remind people like 7-8 times that the colours of the post-its meant nothing and what the task actually was. now that is what truly scares me. these people assumingly got their undergrad degree before ChatGPT was a thing, but as soon as it became available, they gave up all that knowledge and critical thinking to make the machine do it for them. same goes for the academics encouraging people to use AI the same way.

Generative AI has destroyed academia.

In the next few decades we’re going to have thousands of people who don’t really know anything, and can’t do any critical thinking.

[imdoingjustgr8]

hey

soooo... how have any fellow td fans been coping recently

meme aside, i got """a bit""" of a vent coming below that no one's obligated to read. and if you do, forgive me if it ends up long asf and kind of all over the place. it was 5 in the morning when i began writing and i just want a place to get all my thoughts out or i won't be able to sleep in peace.

so, here it goes:

td suddenly being taken down out of nowhere and confirmed to be canceled, never to come back was a massive bummer and all, but honestly? i've been taking the news of the official td discord server's impending deletion much harder. don't get me wrong, i do feel really damn bad for outlaik, i just find him dropping td much easier to accept than seeing the first and only big dc community i've ever joined, that encouraged me to post so much sonexe art in the first place, hell, even have made a bit of a name for myself in (literally being known as "the sonexe guy") be sent to oblivion along with it.

to think that i initially only played a random goofy-looking sonic.exe roblox game out of sheer boredom, to think that i initially joined the discord to only make player reports and maybe lurk around. but when i discovered the creations channel, i've ended up checking that very channel almost religiously, posted alot of my own silly drawings, and met so many cool, funny people and amazing fellow artists that have inspired me to this day.

i've only been around for 2 (and a half?) years, so to see everything go down to shit so suddenly was really jarring. i tend to be a really sentimental guy, like "i hoard 1000+ pictures of a sand sculpture i just built in multiple angles" levels of sentimental, so the thought of all those fun interactions and discussions, creative takes and suggestions, and amazing art that i couldn't all save becoming inaccessable to look back on, to become completely wiped out soon has been pretty distressing to me. it doesn't help that most of the artists i've followed on there don't seem to have links or have posted on other platforms.

one of my biggest comforting hopes at the moment is that if anyone else from on there i've interacted with happens to see this and recognize me, artist or not, i'd be really happy to give you a follow! and to those who don't, if i might not see you again for awhile or ever, i wish you well and hope you know you're cool asf. like, i seriously feel very lucky and grateful of how nice and unexpectedly crazy-supportive everyone was, especially with my first ever sonexe post. i really mean it when i said you're all what encouraged me to post without fearing massive judgement and made me feel excited to share my silly doodles and ideas. seriously, thank you all.

also, i feel as if this is something that needs to be said, or atleast said more; i hope that people would learn to be more considerate of outlaik's pov on everything. i seriously doubt anyone would have the motivation to continue a project they wanted to move on from long ago in the first place. getting a copyright claim on his ass, having his acc and dev career at risk, still being constantly interrogated about td's return (bc of ppl making shit up) when he's already done all he could was just the final nail in the coffin for him with the game. i respect him wanting to just quickly move on and i do hope he finds successs, possibly pull even more than what he got from td with current and future projects he can fully enjoy. i'd also have to thank him and his game for bringing us all together in the first place.

ok big sappy rant over. idk how to end this gracefully i just rlly want to go to sleep atp lmao. i've been typing for 4 straight hours kill me rn

good mor-night 😪

[returnofeternity]

would sell my soul for another parents friend van mixed w the kinda vibe from ur “destroying that butch(?)” fic 😅😅 love the way u write her sooo much 🩷

van who looks like this 😩😩😩😩 van who offers you cigarettes when ur parents arent around because "you look like you need one."

van who sneaks over booze when she comes over for a family event and drinks with you in ur room, always coaxing you into taking the last shot because she likes how drunk and touchy you get. also likes to see you get caught with said booze, or the occasional weed she brings you, and scolds you along with your parents like she wasn't the one who brought it, and also smells like it.

lonely divorcee van.... your parents send you over to vans house after her wife leaves her to offer some consolation cookies that they baked, and you end up getting sucked into conversation with her on the couch for hours. not that you don't wanna be there, it's just that ur awkward and you've always had a crush on her, and maybe you feel bad that you're happy her wife left her.. and maybe she's happy too because now she can pursue you. van who tells you how oh so lonely she's been after taissa left, van scooting closer to you on the couch and putting her hand on your thigh as she explains that she needs somebody around the house... van who says she needs this as she kisses your jaw and makes you grope her chest, encouraging you to touch her on your own.

parent's friend van who always asks your parents to send you over to help her fix something. sometimes, she's being truthful and actually needs your help, and loves watching you bend down or get all sweaty while you fix whatever needs fixing, but other times, she's just lying and wants you over to fuck. but ig either way, both of those scenarios end in being fucked, so... she pays you with strap and some beer like a real butch would.

parent's friend van who still owns her store and offers you all those vhs tapes you picked out for free if you let her fuck. sometimes it's so funny seeing her be so desperate over it that you actually decline and pay for them, and the next time she comes over to the house, shes giving you these puppy dog eyes that you just cant say no to :/ after you mumble that ur going back to ur room after dinner, she quietly excuses herself to the bathroom a few minutes after and goes to your room to eat you out while you scroll on your phone :)

[karikitdemonrp]

Kari listened to Denki and looked up at him, feeling a slight weight be taken off her chest. It felt nice to hear those words. She was still hurting, still processing a lot, but having that encouragement and those soothing words from Denki helped a bit. "It... Still hurts..." She muttered, moving to look down at her hands. "I mean... Because he exists I'm here. And not only that my quirk... It's really similar to his, it's so powerful, so scary..." The child's breathing began to speed up in tandem with her heart rate at this point, slowly but it soon became noticeable that she was starting to hyperventilate as she continued to talk about all these what ifs.

"What if that made him like that? What if it happens to me? Sure I'm okay now, but what about in a year? Two? Ten? What if something happens and I take his place as the next villain, just like him? I know it's hard to say, but the thought still scares me. I don't wanna be like that but... What if I just... End up being just as bad if not worse than him?"

Kari began to mentally spiral a bit as a panic attack started to set in, taking over as she tuned out the world around her, only really hearing her heart beat as she just went into a sort of autopilot, words spilling from her mouth like a waterfall. "What if I cause so many people pain because of my quirk that I become a villain in the process without really knowing how it happened, that line blurring and I just jump over the deep end? What if I try to be a really good hero to make up for what he did but go overboard and eventually become a villain through obsession? What if I--" Then Shinso spoke, not mean or harsh, more so matter of fact. It was direct, like an arrow of sorts. Precise in its delivery. It caused Kari to snap back from her ever darkening thoughts.

She looked at Shinso for a moment, breath shaky and eyes brimming with tears. She searched his gaze for a moment then took a breath and gulped, moving to lean into Denki again, curling up with a heavy sigh. Letting a brief silence linger as she processed with the other teen said. "I... If there's apple juice then I'd like some please. It's one of my favorites. And maybe a sandwich. If they have ham and cheese I'd really like that but if not then I'm not picky. I'm kinda curious about the gummies but I don't wanna risk upsetting Denki. Kinda hungry from using my quirk for so long." She gave a faint, shivering smile. "Thank you, Shinso." She chirped softly, slowly calming down and taking a deep breath. "And thank you too Denki... Sorry you had to see me like that... Talking about... that kinda makes me panic... It's just a lot to really take in..." She muttered, continuing to just lean on Denki to rest and try to relax.

Denki sat beside her on the little bench in the med station, his arm wrapped securely around her as she leaned on him. He didn’t rush her, didn’t pressure her. He just let her sit there, feeling safe, letting the silence say what words couldn’t.

When she finally spoke, her voice barely a whisper, Denki listened with his whole heart. Every word hit him like a punch—how small and heavy it all sounded coming from her. And then the truth, that painful, aching truth she’d been carrying alone.

He tightened his arm gently around her and leaned in just a little, his voice soft but steady.

“Hey… Kari,” he murmured, glancing down at her, “you don’t ever need to say sorry to me. Not for this. Not for being scared, or hurt, or even related to someone like him.”

He touched her shoulder gently, giving it a light squeeze for comfort. “You’re not him, okay? I don’t care who you’re related to. You’re you. You’re brave, and strong, and way kinder than anyone who’s ever been connected to All for One. You’re not him, and you’ll never be him.”

Denki smiled a little, just for her. “You know what I see when I look at you? I see a kid who fought back even when she was scared. I see someone who protected herself the best she could. And I see someone who still has so much love in her heart she’s worried about me, even when she’s the one hurting.”

He tilted his head, trying to meet her eyes. “That’s what matters, Kari. You matter. And I’m really glad you trusted me enough to tell me.”

Shinso stood a few feet away, arms loosely crossed, his usually neutral expression softer than usual as he listened in. There was a pause before he added, trying to offer something small and grounding, “You need anything? I can get you some juice, maybe a sandwich or something? I saw a vending machine earlier. I bet there’s apple juice in there… or orange, if that’s your thing.”

His lips twitched with a faint smirk, trying to lighten the weight in the room just a little. “Could even grab you some of those weird star-shaped gummies Denki likes if you’re feeling brave.”

[olderthannetfic]

(Quick note: nobody involved here uses they/them pronouns. I am using they/them for everyone for anonymity of all parties involved)

Witnessed something on here that pissed me off. A person with a large following was offended when someone they were having an argument with said that they (large following) were known for leading harassment campaigns against people they disliked. Large following person denied this and called the other a bigot for saying that to a minority (which large following person is).

However, having witnessed how large following person treats those they disagree with and seeing how anyone who publicly disagrees with them receives a flood of anons with threats of sexual and physical violence and suibaiting that lasts for weeks after the interaction stops, I very much doubt the veracity of that statement. Large following person may not lead harassment campaigns themself, but their followers and friends certainly carry them out. And I don’t think a minor argument about word choice should warrant multiple messages telling someone to off themselves. Have some fucking standards.

--

One reason I've slowed down my queue lately is that I don't have time to keep up with my activity page and monitor everything, and my follower count was climbing too fast. Whenever the queue slows down, so does the activity here and so does the rate of new people finding me. I already have problems with accidentally siccing my flying monkeys on people, and that's while trying to avoid doing that.

Plenty of people don't even bother. They tacitly encourage this kind of dogpiling even if they don't directly tell people to do it... And anyone with lots of followers who blows up about this shit is probably doing more than just tacitly encouraging it.

I'd say I know who you're talking about, but there are so many of them. Haha.

If they really don't think they do that, it's reasonable to say so, but a genuine and reasoned response would have a lot more "Virality sucks, man" and a lot less "HDU! The only possible explanation is bigotry!" I'd be pretty suspicious of anyone with a lot of followers who isn't willing to recognize that there are serious downsides to it that good intentions cannot really mitigate.

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

so it goes

Marcus Moreno x f!reader | wc ~630 | explicit, mdni | ao3

summary: you meet Marcus in a bar and he's a hot flirt

warnings: no y/n, Marcus being flirty, mentions of drinks in a bar, allusions to smut

a/n: a drabble for my follower milestone event, this one is for my dearest @guiltyasdave. it's my first Marcus Moreno and I'm down bad. it's also my first fic with a Taylor song title, because I think there always can be more of those <3 thank you for beta'ing your own drabble, Jana 😅💛

I recommend listening to so it goes by Taylor Swift because fic and song go hand in hand!

All you wanted tonight was something to satisfy your hunger for something harsh and sharp edged and rough. Something potentially painful but in a pleasurable way. This bar usually serves these kinds of men, the ones that are good for one wild ride but break your back once they bucked you off and disappeared. 

And then this guy caught your attention. He looks so tame, sweet, raising his glass when a bartender serves you a drink from the gentleman over there, ma’am. He looks soft. The only sharp edge you can make out is the curve of his nose. And even that one looks like it would feel smooth. But there is something brewing, you can see it in his eyes once he settles down next to you. Some kind of magic potion is bubbling behind his eyes and you want to taste it.

He is soft spoken, but he keeps his voice so low that you have to lean in closer to understand what he is saying. Drawing you closer with his voice alone, already pulling on an invisible string, just how you like to be tricked into this game of surrender without losing your face.

He introduces himself, “Marcus. Marcus Moreno.”, and when you take his hand to shake it he doesn’t let it go. What you mistook for softness is smoothness. 

He orders you another drink and talks about his daughter growing up so fast and that he preferred some things going lento. Slow. Nice and slow. He doesn’t say that, but he looks like that. He looks like the kind of man who gives you what you need, not what you want. Slow and deep instead of hard and fast. 

His thumb ghosts over your wrist, exactly over the spot where you always apply some of your perfume. You are so close that you don't even have to lean in to hear his voice. Knees against knees, yours between his, your hand in his when he lifts it to brush his lips over your knuckles. A smooth turn and his nose is tracing the scent on your wrist.

You placed a few drops all over your body, between your breasts and your inner thighs and Marcus looks at you like he knows. An approving smile lets your heart skip a bit, the murmured I like the way you smell makes you bite your lip.

The pads of his fingers run up and down your bare arm, he's picking up imaginary lint and you can't even be bored by him using all the tricks in the book. Because he uses them for you, to get your attention. To make you smile.

“Oh, what do we have here?” He smirks and lifts his hand and you almost expect him to conjure a coin from behind your ear. But he doesn’t. He cups your jaw in his hand, his thumb brushing, caressing, the corner of your mouth. Wiping away a tiny bit of foam from your cocktail. Licking his thumb afterwards, locking eyes with you while he does so.

The other patrons, the music, the chatter, it all fades into insignificance. All that is left is him. Gaze heavy on your skin, fingers light on your face. Voice suave when he asks if he can take you home, smile honest when you say yes.

You mistook his softness for weakness, when really it’s quiet power with no need to show off. And he really likes it nice and slow. Deep strokes, taking his time, giving you more time than you would ever give yourself. Encouraging you to take what you need. Praising you when you leave your traces on his back. Catching you when you fall, catching you again. Holding you close that night. And after.

drabbles bribery masterlist

general masterlist here

dividers: @saradika-graphics

[carisisrolledupsleeves]

i come to you hands clasped begging… i’m kind of desperate for a sonny x reader where the reader is a bit of a party girl and goody two shoes sonny falls for her after seeing her in a club dancing, he introduces himself to her and spends a while trying to win her over and she relents and they go on a date. one date turns into many and reader is mocking sonny for being a bit of a square like are you sure you can handle me cos i am a lot x sonny may be a dork on the streets but proves he can handle reader in the sheets if you know what i’m saying… welcome to my island remix by charli xcx is what has provoked these thoughts and also proved i can make ANYTHING about sonny carisi

well my dear anon, i hope you are happy with the result, i hope i did a good job with your request / under a read more because i got a little carried away oops

disclaimer: yeah, its smut okay. no, it hasnt been proof-read, english isnt my first language bla bla, we're just gonna raw it (pun intended)

Welcome to my Island

All night you could feel his eyes on you. His gaze had followed you as you made your way to the dancefloor and was fixed on you as you moved to the music; your heartbeat taking on the fast rhythm of the song as you smiled to yourself. Usually you would have ignored any man on a night out with your girlfriends. Always the same greedy, sleazy look on their faces, unable to hide their intentions. But he was different. It didn’t feel dirty, it didn’t feel as though he was already undressing you in his mind. Instead, it felt like a quiet fascination, and deep down it had made you wonder why on earth a guy like that would look at you with such interest. Something beyond the usual attention a hunter shows for its prey. 

It had encouraged you more than you would admit just yet. You amped up your moves, let them become more suggestive, just to coax a reaction out of him. Sure enough, as you tossed your hair back over your shoulder you found his eyes had averted, and he was biting his lip in an attempt to hide a shy smile. Oh, what a wicked game you had started. 

He seemed so out of place, almost like his friends had dragged him here by force. You decided to give it time, wait until he had a few more beers in him; you could sense he needed a bit more courage. And then finally, after what felt like a hundred stolen glances later, he made his way over to the bar where you were waiting for your next cocktail. 

‘Hi.’ he just says and you immediately notice how intensely blue his eyes are. 

‘Hi.’ you reply with a smirk, turning towards him as you lean against the bar, new drink in your hand. 

‘I’m Sonny.’ 

You burst out laughing and feel bad for it instantly. You can’t help it though, he is almost begging to be teased. 

‘Sonny? What kinda name is that?’ you ask and he buries his hands inside his jeans pockets. Ohhh. You got him. 

‘Well, it’s not my actual name, it’s just wha-’

‘Well, what’s your actual name then? Because I’m not calling you Sonny, Sonny.’ you wink at him, twirling your tongue around the straw and even in the dim lights you can see his cheeks turning a bright shade of pink. How cute. 

‘Dominick.’ he answers.

‘Dominick? And why the hell would you have a sexy name like that but introduce yourself as Sonny? Well, nevermind. Dominick. Nice to meet you, Dominick.’ you over-emphasize his name, making it sound as naughty as you can and he blushes again before swallowing hard. 

In that moment you knew, and boy, did he know as well. He was going to lose this game. 

—--

Despite being a wild card, you weren’t into one night stands. And as much as you liked to tease and flirt, especially with him, it wasn’t your thing to take a guy home on the first night. Besides, it was way too much fun to see how far you could take this. Make him lose his mind, make him drop that goodie goodie thing he had going that might have worked with your Italian grandma but not with you. You really made him work hard for it before you agreed but you enjoyed those first few dates; he was a gentleman with manners you weren’t used to. Holding the door open for you, pulling out the chair, picking up the bill every time (which you hated), and walking you to your apartment but never even hinting at wanting to be invited up. Not even a kiss on the cheek when the truth was, you had pictured his face between your legs from the second you had laid eyes on him. Oh how handsome he was, and everything he did he did with such intensity, such intention. It made him even more attractive. You were dying to be touched by him with the same intensity, with the same intention. 

You tried your hardest. Every trick in the book. You wore your sexiest outfits, made the raunchiest comments, teased him relentlessly, got so close to him you could feel the heat radiating off of him and made sure he felt yours. All you got in return were those shy smiles, the flushed cheeks, and Dominick stumbling over his words like a little boy. Naturally you started wondering. He was obviously attracted to you. You knew he was catholic, you both were. Raised in big Italian families. But he didn’t strike you as someone who wanted to wait until marriage. 

—--

It’s your 7th date and you take him to a party one of your friends is hosting. It’s a warm summer evening and he looks so sexy in his light gray button down shirt, the bit of chest hair peeking out driving you absolutely insane. Is he unaware of the way he affects you or is he just playing dumb, you have no idea. It puts you in a mood, that sexually frustrated kind of mood. You decide to do your own thing, leave him stranded for a bit. Why should you not have fun just because he’s being a total square? Dominick watches you intently, just like he had been the night you met but you ignore him. It isn’t until you almost stumble over him sitting alone on the stairs as you make your way down from the rooftop that you finally acknowledge him again. Feeling kind of guilty but still frustrated. 

‘What is your deal?’ you ask him. 

‘What do you mean?’ he asks back.

‘If you can’t handle me then you should have never asked me on a date. I only said yes because you’re cute and I thought you’d loosen up a bit. Why pursue me if you’re scared of a girl like me?’ you cross your arms and expect him to get up and leave. 

Dominick remains quiet for a while. And now you’re the one who turns around to leave but he catches your hand and pulls you toward him, to your surprise. 

‘You think I can’t handle you? You know what I think? I think you can’t handle someone having real and true feelings for you. You can’t handle me being a nice guy. Treating you with the respect and affection you deserve. I think you’ve gotten so used to losers who only want the one thing from you that you can’t handle someone wanting more.’  

His words hit you like a brick. You know he is right. You know you can’t say anything in response because he hit the nail on the head. A snarky retort, maybe teasing him some more? It would all be useless. There’s this glint in his eyes now, one you haven’t seen before. It was always you, having the upper hand, having him wrapped around your finger, making him blush, making him stutter. But you can see it now. The mischief behind his soft, earnest eyes. Dominick’s played the game as well, leading you on, giving you the false impression that you are in control. The truth is obvious now, as you melt in his arms like putty. He pulls you closer, tighter, his lips on yours all of a sudden, eagerly. 

All you can do is nod and mumble a dazed ‘Mmhmm’ when he goes ‘Let’s get outta here’ and you cling to him all the way to the subway, barely aware as the train starts and stops moving until you get off at his stop. He more or less drags you along, pausing only to kiss you whenever you mutter his name needingly. Shit, you know it’s over for you. 

The second the door closes he has you pinned against it, kissing you again with such a force, it feels almost primal. You can’t say or do anything but hold on to him, letting him take over. The plans, the ideas you had for this moment, all gone out the window. It’s ironic how all you wanted was to seduce him, blow his mind in every possible way so he would forget his own name (Sonny, Dominick, whatever) and yet here you are, helpless as his large hands roam over your body while he’s kissing you roughly. Do what you want to me, with me, I don’t care. 

You whimper as Dominick’s mouth leaves yours and wanders to your neck, biting there, your fingers already digging into his back at the sheer pleasure of his assaults. Damn, I should have known. Good catholic boys are always freaks deep down. You giggle and his head shoots up, eyes boring into yours.

‘What’s so funny?’ Dominick asks, his voice somehow sounding stern but playful at the same time.

You hold his gaze, trying to catch your breath but you fail. His hand is on your thigh, moving under your dress until his fingers are tracing along the outline of your panties, slowly yet deliberately. 

‘I asked, what’s so funny?’ he repeats, touching you just inches away from your already damp center. 

‘The way I thought you couldn’t handle me.’ You are the one sounding shy now, like a little girl.

‘Babe, you have no idea. I’m gonna handle you all night. Over and over again. You think I didn’t keep score of all that teasing?’ he growls, his fingertips now ever so slightly sneaking under the fabric of your thong brushing over the soft skin there. 

Fuck. Oh my fucking fuck. You nearly pass out as he kisses you again. You press your body against his, moaning as you feel his erection, oh my God. There’s nothing you want more than to have him inside of you, and you squirm at the thought of it, knowing he will keep you waiting for as long as possible. 

‘Please, please.’ you beg but it’s useless. 

He shakes his head, instead picking you up and carrying you over to his kitchen island where he sits you down, his hands once again reaching under your dress to pull your underwear off with one adept motion. 

‘Let’s see just how wet you are for me, darlin’’ his fingers find your folds, making you shutter and you meet his eyes, the bright blue now darkened with lust.

Dominick spreads your slick all over his fingers before thrusting them into you, his thumb beginning to circle your clit harshly as you grasp his shoulder, your head falling back from the intensity of his touch.  

‘Fuuuuck, Dominick!’ you moan, feeling the muscles in his arm tense as he expertly curls his fingers inside of you.

There’s no slow climb. It’s a rapid ascent, straight to heaven. Within seconds. You stare into his eyes, and all this time you wanted to unleash him, he has now come and unleashed you in a way you didn’t think was possible. You can feel yourself tighten around his fingers, ready to burst but he withdraws just before you can topple over. 

‘What? No, please!’ you protest.

‘Shhhh.’ he covers your mouth with his hand softly, parting your lips with his fingers covered in your juices. 

You open your mouth and suck them in, tasting yourself, and he keeps them there as his face disappears between your legs. You lick his fingers as he starts to eat your pussy, his tongue stroking through your folds as you feel his free hand spread you open to get better access to your pulsing clit.

‘I can’t! FUCK!’ you have to stop yourself from biting down on his fingers, sucking them into your mouth again instead, making him moan and bury his face even deeper inside your cunt. 

He’s so good at this, so so good. 

‘You are so fucking delicious.’ Dominick dips his tongue into you, turning you into an even bigger mess. 

You come hard, and he keeps you in place with his strong arms as you shake and twitch, a deep and feral moan escapes your lips as he catches your wet release in his mouth, licking it all up. He sucks on your swollen nub, making you shudder again before you even come down from your climax, and your hand flies into his hair, pulling, as you press yourself against him. 

‘Almost couldn’t handle that, huh?’ he grins smugly and you want to curse him out, want to tell him to shut the fuck up but he grabs your hips and picks you up again, and you are limp from your orgasm in his arms. 

‘Ugh, I just want you inside of me.’ you kiss his neck; that exquisite, long neck, as he carries you toward his bedroom. 

‘Is that all you want?’ Dominick asks. He knows he has you exactly where he wanted you, after weeks of trying to break down your walls. 

‘No. You know it’s not.’ as soon as you’re on the bed you’re trying to distract him by unzipping his jeans but he catches your hands in his.

‘Do I? I wanna hear you say it though.’

There really is no point. You know there isn’t. You are both vulnerable now, anything goes. 

He frees himself of his clothes and you immediately want to touch him everywhere. Oh, he is so fine. 

‘I want you. I want all of you. I want us. Forever. Always. I wanna be yours, all yours. And I want you to be mine, all mine.’ you press your face into his chest and breathe him in, that heavenly scent you had imagined all over you for weeks now. 

‘Well, I’m all yours, baby. I have been since that night at the club. You were so naughty. But I was up for the challenge.’ He kisses you again fiercely and then with one swift motion he is kneeling between your thighs, his hands grabbing your waist with such strength and determination, and his hard cock just inches away from your pussy. 

His hand brushes over your slit, and you watch as he covers himself in your slick with a few strokes of his dick; fuck, he really knows what he’s doing, and it makes your brain short-circuit. 

‘So you’re mine, huh? All mine?’ Dominick teases and you nod, swallowing hard. 

He splits you open with his tip, making you whine before he slams into you and you almost choke on your own moan. Big and hard and throbbing inside of you. Good Lord, he fills you up perfectly. Dominick gasps as he watches himself getting sucked inside your wet little hole, cursing under his breath as he feels you tighten around him already. 

‘Fuck, you feel good wrapped around me like that. How did I manage to wait that long?’

‘I don’t know but you better give it to me every day from now on.’ you wrap your legs around him, digging your heels into his lower back as he starts moving with a smile on his face. 

‘You won’t have to ask, honey. I won’t ever get enough of you.’ he licks his lips, looking down at you in the most obscene way that gives you the most obscene thoughts. 

You really had been fooled by his good boy act.

Dominick is hitting your gspot so skillfully at this angle, fucking into you deeply, dragging along your walls that are still so sensitive after your first orgasm. It won’t take long until the next, not if he keeps this up. It’s almost too much. The way he looks at you with furrowed brows, as if your pleasure is all he wants to focus on. Your back arches as one of his hands leaves your waist to graze upwards to cup your breast, down over your hip and thigh. His soft touch is such a contrast to the firm hold and hard thrusts he administers. Then his hand travels further until his fingers find your clit once more, your eyes rolling back as he adds yet another sensation to your body again. How could you have ever underestimated him like this? When no man could ever make you feel like this before? There’s this knot in your stomach, making it harder to breathe, and it has nothing to do with your approaching climax. 

‘Need you closer.’ you almost cry out, surprised at the desperation in your own voice. 

Dominick obliges, leaning down to kiss you, his whole body covering yours and you sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck. You press yourself against him as his movements slow down a bit, and nothing has ever felt as intimate. Your hands wander, fingers digging into his broad shoulders as he rolls his hips against yours; long, slow, deep thrusts that make you see stars. His hot breath is on your skin as he nibs on your jaw.

‘You make me delirious.’ he whispers, his voice shaky with abandon. 

Your legs wrap around his hips, needy for the friction and he gets the hint, picking up the pace again. He’s as close as you are, you can tell by the way you feel his muscles tense.

‘Fill me up, Dominick.’ you purr into his ear and your hands wander down to his ass while you squeeze him inside of you. 

He growls, grabbing you again, his fingers digging into your hips so hard you’re sure he’s leaving you with bruises. The thought of having his marks all over you, his cum inside of you; yes when you said you wanted all of him you really meant it. And you bliss out just as you feel him pumping his hot seed, your name leaving his mouth in a sinful moan. Fuck, you’ve never come so hard in your life. It’s earth-shattering; you convulse so violently you’re surprised he’s still able to pound into you. Dominick hisses as you scratch at his skin, his lips capturing yours in a hungry kiss. 

‘That’s right, sweetheart. That’s right. Let it out. You’re so fucking sexy when you come.’ Dominick breathes, his fingers finding your clit to send another wave through you making you cry out. 

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. 

And truthfully, you have no idea how much time passes. He’s still on top of you, he’s still inside of you, and you don’t want him to move either. You want to drink in his scent, that intoxicating scent now mixed with the smell of sex which makes it even more intoxicating. You want him to imprint on your body and soul, you want to forever feel his skin against yours. Damn him for making you feel this way. 

‘I hate you.’ you joke, nudging his cheek with your nose and he looks at you with a smug smile on his face because he knows you mean the opposite. 

‘I love you.’ Dominick replies, for the both of you, sending your head spinning once again.