#lousy writing tonight…

[diorchids]

stepbrother!luke in the car !

“it’s too tight in here!” you yell as you settle on to your step brother's lap in the packed car, dress riding up as you try and get comfortable.

“shut your mouth and sit still, stop whining about everything.” luke groaned while his hands rested on your waist, holding you there as you protested. your parents ignored the both of you, your daily banter becoming normal. you shifted your hands while his hands were still planted tightly on your waist. he loved the feeling of wrapping his hands around your waist, having you under him, controlling your every move, and keeping you in place.

luke loved this. sure, it was perverse to think of his sister like this, but what’s wrong with it? you obviously don’t mind, you entertain it, even.

your dress was ridden up to your hips as you sat on him, strained cock pushing against his slacks as you grumbled.

luke’s disgusting, holding you down on him as he mindlessly rubs against you. he grinds his bulge up against your cunt as you try not to drool and cry out, digging your fingers into his thighs as you stupidly move your hips back and forth on your brothers disgusting cock.

he smirks as he quietly rubs his cock up against your sweet cunt while your mother drives. he slides a hand into your dress, groping your breast as he steals kisses and whispers perverse things into your ear.

“y-you’re a perv, you know that, right?” you whisper as you quietly moan and let your mouth fall open. luke’s hand slides down to your sensitive cunt, his fingers finding their way beneath your underwear. he rubs your clit in slow circles, making you moan softly and wiggle on his lap. “might let dad know—” your parents still oblivious to what you and your step brother are doing, chatting and humming to the music playing, “might let him know you like this, don’t you?” he asks, whispering.

“n-no, luke, don’ tell…”

luke whispers dirty words into your ear as he continues to rub your swollen nub. he ignores your protests, knowing that you secretly love the illicit thrill of getting caught by your mother.

“no—no more, luke…” you whisper before your parents get out the car, going inside the house, completely ignoring their children still in the car. “gotta get inside, c’mon…” your desperate attempts at stopping his fingers rubbing your soaked cunt.

luke continues to tease your sensitive parts, his fingers moving faster as he watches you squirm in his lap. your protests just turn him on more. “you're so fucking hot when you're trying to resist me. gonna fuck you so good.”

at first, you entertained it. this was fun, sure, but he was serious.

he unzips his slacks underneath you, strained cock pushing against his boxers before he pulls it out, hissing when the cold air hits his wet, fat tip.

luke wraps your hand around his cock and begins to thrust into it, making you gasp as he fucks your hand. “bet you want me to slip my cock inside you right now. wouldn’t that be fun?” you didn’t answer.

he takes that as a yes and wastes no time. he pulls your panties aside and thrusts his cock deep into your wet hole. he moans as he buries himself inside you, his hands grabbing onto your hips as he begins to thrust inside. “fuck,”

luke thrusts upwards as he watches you bite your lip and close your eyes in pleasure. he whispers in your ear. “god, you're so fuckin’ wet. you love this, don't you?”

he ends up cumming inside your tight hole, thick ropes rushing deep inside of you as he holds you in place, making you take it all as you moan and cry out.

maybe he’ll come into your room while you’re sleep, or maybe when you’re showering, he’ll hop inside for a bit.

[youryanderedaddy]

Oleander

Summary: Nine months ago you killed a man. Now you're sharing a drink with his brother. Life works in mysterious ways. tw: female reader, implied murder, captivity, dub - con, hate fucking, degradation, cruel reader

Sometimes you wonder if you’re a good person. It’s nice, almost, to lose yourself in meaningless philosophical battles in your own mind - it reminds you of high school, of balding teachers making you read Kant and Plato, raving on and on about dead men that will never come back to agree or disagree with the countless pages they made you write about them. It’s easier now, though - easy to lose yourself in semantics, to water down hundred years of morals and ethics into a simple question. Am I, the way I am, the way I’ve always been, good? 

These thoughts always come back when the liquor hits your system. You can’t believe Devan let you drink with him tonight. He must be getting lonely, you realize. Your hands are too shaky and slippery to hold the glass, and you end up spilling half of it over your chest anyways. Your shirt soaks the liquor quickly, and the sharp smell of sanitizer makes you feel as if you’re running through a cold hospital corridor. If you squint, you can almost imagine the needle poking at your vein to draw fresh blood. 

Devan watches you with odd fascination - as if you’re a child learning how to walk, and takes a sip straight off the bottle. Were you any less drunk, you’d be disgusted, yet now all you think about is how he’s drinking more and more of the bitter medicine, leaving less for you. And you need it. God knows you need it.

“Messy, murderous slut.” He mumbles under his breath, reaching out to you with a disoriented shake of his hand. “You ruined my fucking life, you know?” He manages to take a hold of your elbow. You flinch impulsively but his hold, in all its drunken angst, is unrelenting.

“You ruined your own life.” You intend your answer to be playful, but it comes out venomous. Maybe you both need some sleep - too bad the bottle is still half full. You pour yourself some more. “You’re 27 with no education, job or any support network. Even your parents don’t call you anymore, because, well… what even are you without him?” You let yourself get closer to the man - so close you can see his eyes illuminate in fear. His skin is warm like concrete melting under the sun. Tonight you are cruel. Tonight you are free - even as the tears fall down your freezing cheeks. “Admit it.” You inhale so quietly you barely feel your lungs. “You fucking love it.”

Even as his hand connects to your cheek in an audible slap, you can’t help running your mouth off. You are absolutely intoxicated - and the sting feels like a kiss to your lonely, untouched face. How long has it been since someone held you?

“You fucking love that your brother died, deep down. I mean, it’s the perfect excuse, isn’t it? You finally have a reason to be this fucking miserable.” Your smirk, filling up with glee - just like a child torturing a helpless ladybug on the ground, it’s so wrong yet feels so right. ”Besides being a lousy loser, of course.”

“How fucking dare you!” Devin flips you over with ease, throwing you on the ground. There is a raw, animalistic sadness in his big black orbs bleeding into his rage, and it makes it impossible to be scared. Even as his thick fist wraps itself around your throat, it’s hard not to burst into laughter. All the good hazy feelings take over logic and now the bleak feels like a big joke of nature. “Joe was… He… He was…” Everything, he tries to say, but his voice breaks into a pained howl and his breathing shallows before the word can roll off his colorless tongue. For a passing moment everything stills.

“It’s all your fault.” Your captor hisses weakly, his hand trembling around your warm inviting flesh. “I should have killed you that first day… that first night.” His fingers dance around your throat, carefully avoiding your jugular. “It would have been so easy. You do have a beautiful neck.” His voice lowers. “It wouldn’t be hard to–” He squeezes again - tight, tighter, and you see stars. “Maybe then I’ll finally be at peace.” He’s staring at you, intently, but it’s himself he’s talking to. 

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes. You can feel a certain fullness in your sides and a dull pain tugging at your collarbone from suffocation - but your mind can’t wrap itself around a single coherent thought other than to hurt him. It’s like the more you hurt him, the more it hurts inside you. “You can’t kill me.” There is no sass in your tone, no mischief - just plain cold acceptance.

Devin stops in his tracks to stare you down as if you’ve lost your goddamn mind. Then he laughs. He laughs so much his hand slips off your throat and you can finally breathe again.

“And what makes you so sure?” He finally collects himself enough to ask, leaning towards you. If anyone were to see you now, they would think you’re two lovers about to elope. “Because…” You avert your face away from his watchful eyes - there’s something about them, a wild flame that makes you sober up quicker than you’d like. “I’m the only person you hate more than yourself. If you kill me, the game is over.” You give him a sad smile. “And you’re all alone again.”

The man grabs your chin, forcing your lips to pucker up like a doll’s. “Like I need a fucked up bitch to keep me company.” He says, yet he keeps moving your head up and down as if he’s inspecting you for damage. As if he cares if you’re bruised, as if his fingers want to feel you for just a second longer. “Then let me go.” You bite back, and you watch his face go dark like a night sky. “No.” The boy - man shrieks, holding onto your arm for dear life. It hurts… but it’s also warm and tight - like an embrace, but not quite. “You deserve to suffer.” He quickly adds, pulling you closer to him. “Then torture me.” You add more fuel. “Do something. Anything.” You sink your teeth into his knees. “For once in your shitty miserable life do so–”

He kisses you. 

You don’t know how to describe the kiss. It’s neither passionate, nor aggressive. It’s desperate, yet it lacks strength. It’s a rushed thing. It’s a memory reminiscent of summer - in a quiet village, after an atom bomb. His lips are the flowers that eventually bloom before they’re stomped by soldier boots. You’re the half - lit match that turns it all to ashes. Your bodies are meant for destruction, and that’s why they fit together perfectly. 

“Let me have you.” He almost pleads once you separate, breathless, on the brink of insanity - as if he isn’t already there. His hands are on both sides of your waist, squeezing so hard it hurts, unstable fingers ready to grab and grope at any shape malleable enough. 

“No.” You wince, but your eyes remain cold and challenging. “Fuck you.” Devin replies, roughly spreading your thighs apart. “Fuck you.” He repeats as he rips into your throat, dragging his teeth against your sweet spot, making you really feel the sharp points tearing into your soft vulnerable skin. The thought of leaving his mark on you makes his stomach turn - and it terrifies him. You try not to look down, but you hear his belt hit the ground and soon his pants follow suit - and then you sense it right against your entrance. Sticky slick whiteness coats your white panties as it drips from the purpling tip so full it might burst by the friction alone.

His hard length rubs along your wet slit and with clenched teeth you anticipate the burn of the stretch, the way he’ll rip your underwear from you, your last protective shield - but it never comes. Yet you see it move in and out, in and out of you rhythmically. You can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck, his rasp groans into your ear, his hands moving your torso back and forth like a carousel. You finally look down. 

He’s fucking your thighs - through your panties, no less. 

“Hold your legs together.” The man barks at you, but his voice is so needy you can’t help giggling even as he manhandles you around like a ragdoll. “T-tighter.” You squeeze your thighs snuggly against his cock - and you hope it hurts him more than it hurts you. You throw your head back, leaning on his shoulder as you jeer gutturally, letting it all out in systematic bursts of laughter that sound more like black cigarette coughs. Or puffs. “God, you’re so pathetic.” You lazily stroke his shaft as it peeks down your stomach, oozing with pre - cum. “I bet your brother would have fucked me like a real man.”

He moves your head to the side with a brute slap, kissing you sloppily anywhere but your mouth - but it still does the trick of shutting you up. “Too bad he’s dead.” He leaves a trail of wet pecks down your throat. Your stomach is sticky. You feel disgusting. “Guess you’re mine now.”

You roll your eyes.

“Dream on.”

[wasawattpadkid]

OMG YOU’RE WRITING IS SO EFFING GOOD I can’t stop coming back to your page. Can you possibly do a poly ghost face x fem reader⚠️ prompt being something like “do you think they can hear us through the tent?” Friend group going camping. I think it would be a dangerous situation but exciting.

Thank you so much you're too sweet! I hope I did your request justice! 💕 Thanks for the ask!

Voices Carry

Summary: A camping trip can be stressful and painful. With Billy being the mule of the group his back ached. You and Stu were just the ones to help with that.

Pairing: Poly!ghostface x fem!reader

Warnings: ⚠️smut 18+⚠️ explicit boyxboy, unsafe sex, slight degrading, slight praise, rough sex, tears, cum, p in v, oral (male receiving), after care, vulgar language, threesome, power dynamics

"I hate fucking bugs." Billy said as he swatted the gnats away from his face. "How do you get their little legs apart?" Stu laughed at his own joke earning silence from the kids around him. "Lighten up guys. This'll be fun, we're going to have s'mores tonight!" It seemed you and Sydney were the only ones happy about the camping trip. "Yeah, we'll sit around the campfire and tell scary stories. You're good at that, aren't you babe?" You looked at Billy and Stu letting them know you were talking about both of them. "Damn right I am." Stu threw his arm over your shoulder. You hadn't told your friends about dating the two boys, it was only official with Stu. However they all knew about your sleeping habits.

"This is exactly how Friday the 13th started. If this were a movie we'd be doomed." Randy exclaimed as he held Sydney's hand. "I'm the only single one here I'm already doomed." Tatum took a swig of her almost empty soda bottle. "James Dean back there is single. Ask him out." Randy pointed towards Billy who wore a plain t-shirt paired with distressed blue jeans. Tatum looked at the boy with something close to disbelief. Billy shot her a tight lipped smile with raised eyebrows as he shrugged his shoulders. "He's not exactly my type." Stu laughed pointing at your shared boyfriend. "Ooh burn!"

"Since when did you get picky about boys?" Randy asked earning a slap to the back of the head. "Ow you know that actually really hurt." Billy smiled looking at his boots as they crunched the greenery beneath them. "You deserved that one bud." Tatum nodded agreeing with you. Sydney checked her map making sure you were walking in the right direction. "Can we keep moving my back is killing me?" Billy complained looking at the lousy tour guide. "I'll take it from you buddy." Stu reached out touching his partner's shoulder. You and the group were walking ahead when you heard Stu yelp behind you. Everyone turned seeing Stu hold his hand in pain as Billy chuckled to himself. "He bit me!"

Eventually you and the gang found a decent place to set up camp. "Does anyone here know how to set up a tent?" Randy asked having no clue where to start. "Does anyone know how to set up a tent?" Stu mocked the boy earning a laugh from the girls. "No dipshit, we all just walked miles with tents on our back to use as fire wood. Of course we know how to set up a tent, we're actually men." Stu flexed his arm showing off the muscle. "Does your masculine overcompensation ever get embarrassing?" Tatum quipped making Stu's face drop. "Jokes on you I don't know what that means." He stuck out his tounge making her scoff.

"Think fast Stu." Billy called pitching his bag to Stu. "Who's sleeping where?" Tatum asked noticing the two unmade tents. "Y/n's crashing with us. So I guess that leaves you, Sydney, and twiddle dumb." Randy nodded used to Stu's obnoxious jokes. "Real cute Macher." Stu framed his face with his hands showing off his teeth. "I try!" You rolled your eyes heading over to Billy helping him with the tent. "Awful big hammer you've got there." You bumped his shoulder as your friends continued their bickering. Billy shook his head with a laugh. "You and him are just alike." He said referring to Stu.

"I'd like to think I'm a little hotter." You said sitting down on the ground. Billy raised up stretching his back. He used the back of his forearm to swipe the sweat from his forehead. You were caught up in watching him when a loud crash grabbed your attention. "Are you okay Randy?" His girlfriend asked as he lay beneath the crumpled tent. "I'm fine!" He called out as Stu hit the ground laughing. After about 30 minutes or so both tents were set up. You and Tatum could've helped but watching the boys argue over who could do what was better.

Sydney started on the fire as it began to get dark. "I'll get sticks for s'mores!" You jumped up going on a hunt for skewers. "Ew I'm not putting that in or around my food." Tatum said thinking her friends were crazy. "If you're worried about germs the fire kills almost any bacteria on your food." Billy pinched the bridge of his nose. "How do you think they did it back in the old days Tate?" Stu asked sitting next to the girl. "I don't know doofus I wasn't around back then." You came back handing each person their own stick. The night continued with everyone having a drink or two and eating s'mores. Billy chased Randy around with a stick on fire as Stu cheered him on and Sydney told him to stop.

"Is this thing safe to sleep in?" Tatum asked as she looked inside of the tent Randy put up. "Yes it's safe to sleep in." Randy said aggravated that his work was thought so little of. "It looks great." Sydney kissed his cheek making his sour mood fade. "Alright well we're going to get some sleep." Billy smacked the tops of his thighs as he stood up. "If the tent starts a-rockin don't come a-knockin." Stu stuck his tongue out at the teenagers causing everyone including you make a face. "Get your ass in the tent." You smacked his arm making him laugh. You and Billy laid down pillows and blankets trying to figure out how to make the sleeping arrangement comfortable.

"I call dibs on the middle." Stu threw himself down wincing once he realized you could still very much feel the earth underneath the tent. "In your fucking dreams, she always gets middle." Billy kicked his partner trying to get him to move. "It's not that big of a deal I can sleep anywhere." You shrugged making both boys huff out a laugh. "Yeah we know. You slept the whole way up here." That was true. Traveling long distances always made you drowsy. "That just means I'm not tired now." Billy immediately looked at Stu who was grinning up at you. You turned around grabbing your backpack off the ground. The bright red pack of cards revealed itself as you pulled them from the bag. "I brought uno!" You said happily as Stu groaned and Billy couldn't help but laugh.

"I win again. Are you colorblind or something?" Billy shuffled the cards like a dealer in Vegas. You carefully watched his hands as they played with the cards. "Take a picture it'll last longer." Billy smirked seeing you staring out of the corner of his eye. "Oh sorry." You fixed your posture out of embarrassment. "It's all good." Billy's voice was low trying to stay quiet but it made you want to scream. "Are we playing another round or what?" Billy's question made Stu throw his head back with a whine. "I rather cover myself in peanut butter and go running out there than play another game of this shit." Normally you'd snap at him for complaining but all you could do was look at him. His head was tilted back showing off his neck while his tank top let your eyes run down the obvious veins on his arms. "Is anybody else hot in here?" You pinched your shirt shaking the fabric hoping to cool yourself off.

Stu perked up as Billy put away the cards. "You could take of your clothes off." Billy looked at Stu letting him know not to be pushy. "What! I'm just trying to help my girlfriend." Stu put his hand over his heart trying to seem genuine. While the boys bickered you pulled your top off showing off your black sports bra. "I didn't think you'd actually do it." Stu bit his lip as he scanned the new skin on display. "Relax I'm just getting ready for bed." The way your head was running with wild thoughts you needed the sleep. You stripped off down to your underwear knowing how hot it gets sleeping in between Billy and Stu. "It's supposed to get down in the 40s tonight." Billy warned taking off his jeans and switching them to sweatpants.

"We'll keep you warm babe." Stu kissed your neck looking at Billy as if to say "shut the fuck up." Billy shook his head peeling the white shirt from his torso. The muscles in his back contracted as he rolled his shoulders. All day he had been tense. He wasn't sure if it was the constant social interaction or the 50 pound backpack he had to hike with. Stu left you sitting on the sleeping mat as he switched out of his clothes. "Billy come here." You waved him over seeing he was uncomfortable. He walked over to you not knowing what you wanted. "Sit down I'm going to see if I can help you." Stu scoffed as Billy sat with his back towards you. "He needs more help than you can give him."

Billy flipped off his friend as Stu continued to change. "Is it your shoulders or what?" Billy leaned his head over trying to stretch out his neck. "It's mostly my neck and my shoulders. They've been bothering me all damn day." You placed your hands on his shoulders slowly rubbing out the tension with your thumbs. Billy's eyes closed in hopes the dark would make the pain a little more bearable. Stu was left in nothing but his boxers as he watched his partners. "Is that helping at all?" You wanted to make sure you weren't hurting him. "Yeah." He moaned in pain. Both you and Stu immediately looked at each other knowing how that sounded. With a nod Stu asked you to do it again.

You repeated the pattern on his shoulder pressing down on a certain spot. Another groan left Billy's lips. Billy wasn't aware of the effect he was having on you and Stu. The short haired boy walked over sitting in front of his boyfriend. Billy opened one eye looking at Stu with suspicion. "What are you doing?" He didn't trust Stu when he had that sort of hellish gleam in his eyes. "Me? Oh nothing." Stu responded as you continued to massage Billy's shoulders. "I doubt that- ah!" He exclaimed his head lulling back in pain. You didn't know if it was wrong that his pain turned you on but you were glad you weren't the only one. You pressed a kiss to Billy's neck which brought a smile to his face.

Stu's movement however wasn't as innocent. His hand rubbed against the crotch of Billy's sweatpants making the boy between you two sigh. "We can't do this right now. They'll hear us." Billy said making no move to stop either of you. You had given up trying to suppress the hunger that had consumed you all day. Billy's breath was ragged as Stu continued to rub his growing erection. You smiled against Billy's skin before whispering next to his ear. "Are you telling me you can't be quiet?" Stu tugged at Billy's waistband signaling the boy to raise his hips. Once he did Stu tugged his pants down his legs and off to the side of the tent. "I can be quiet but I know you can't." Billy bit back as his eyes closed tight trying to figure out how he could gain some control. "Who said anything about me?" You whispered as Stu pulled Billy's cock from his uncomfortably tight briefs. "Fuck..." Billy groaned knowing he lost whatever game you two were playing.

You went back to kissing and biting Billy's neck as Stu began to slide his hand up and down the boy's cock. Stu looked at you with a sense of astonishment in his eyes. Billy was a control freak in and out of the bedroom. He was always on top barking orders unless you physically tied him down. So for this to be happening was like lighting in a bottle. Stu scooted down licking a stipe up the boy's shaft. Billy's abs contracted as his hips rolled upwards. You watched happily as Stu's tongue swirled around the tip of Billy cock smearing the bead of precum around his skin. A small gasp could be heard coming from the man under your touch.

His knuckles were white as they gripped the sheets beneath him. It took every ounce of strength not to throat fuck the man who continuously teased him. Stu sat up leaving Billy needy but he'd die before he begged. "Lay back." Stu said making you move out of the way. Billy's back hit the mat as he looked up at the both of you. That little red tint on his cheeks made him look insanely attractive. "Well are you two assholes going to do anything or do I need to get myself off?" The smirk on Billy's face somehow made his words endearing. Stu leaned over whispering instructions in your ear. With wide eyes you looked up at the man. "Go ahead."

You pulled off your underwear leaving them where they dropped. Billy quickly ridded himself off his underwear leaving himself completely naked in front of you and Stu. You walked over to the man on the ground straddling his hips. Your lips connected with his greedily. Billy grabbed his cock running the tip up and down your folds making you moan into his mouth. Without a warning he slipped the tip into your entrance. You sat up properly lining him up before slowly sinking down on his cock. Billy let out what could only be described as a growl through gritted teeth. You started to rock your hips back and forth letting your clit rub against his skin.

Stu walked over helping you out of your bra as you continued your movements. Leaning down he pressed a kiss to your lips before he got rid of his own underwear. Billy watched as you pumped Stu's cock with one hand, the other rested on Billy's abdomen keeping your balance. Your lips wrapped around the tip of Stu's cock, your tongue running flat against the slit. The warmth from your cunt and the sight in front of him almost made Billy cum. "I need you to move." Billy spoke, his voice deep and worn.

You pulled your mouth off of Stu's length with a pop. "What's the magic word?" You teased. "Fuck you." Billy spat appalled you thought that'd work on him. You squeezed around his cock making a slight whimper leave his lips. "Say please." Your eyes hardened waiting to hear the word come from him. "You're a fucking bitch." He sighed in defeat. "Please." His voice was shaky only making his plea hotter. "Good boy." You tapped his cheek making his nostrils flare in anger. His fingers dug into your thigh sure to leave bruises. You started to bounce as Stu shoved his cock back in your mouth. With a grip on your hair he paced himself. Moans were loud against the tent as your thighs started to burn.

"Just like that." Stu moaned as you hollowed out your cheeks. Tears began to well up in your eyes making the world around you blurry. You looked up at Stu seeing him smile down at you. "You're so beautiful with my cock in your mouth." He complimented as Billy thrusted his hips upward. You moaned around Stu not being able to suppress your volume. "Shh." Stu wiped the tear that fell from your eye. His head lulled back with a silent moan. Billy shook beneath you needing to cum. "Stu.. I- I need her to move." His voice cracked as his restraint faltered. "Give me a damn minute." Stu had a habit of getting cocky. In a normal setting Billy would've immediately put an end to it. He'd didn't tolerate what he considered "bitchy behavior."

Stu continued to use your mouth however he pleased. "Y/n baby..." Billy softly spoke making you pull away from Stu. "Fuck!" Stu whisper yelled at the loss of your lips. Billy grabbed your waist easily pulling you off of him. He kissed your lips before he stood up. "Get on your fucking knees." Billy spat at Stu more than upset. Stu being smarter than he looked dropped to his knees in front of his boyfriend. Billy grabbed the mans face roughly squishing the delicate skin beneath his fingers. "Open. Tongue out." Stu obeyed his tongue hanging out allowing Billy's cock to easily slid in. Your fingers found your clit quickly circling the bud.

Billy was always more aggressive with Stu knowing he could and loved to take it. Billy's thighs trembled as he got close. "Y-Y/n come here please..." The willing politeness made you even hotter than before. You crawled over next to Stu sitting back on your heels. Billy pulled out from Stu's mouth letting you know exactly what he was doing. You opened your mouth with your tongue out much like your boyfriend next to you. Billy pumped his cock till ropes of cum hit both you and Stu.

He milked his orgasm till there was nothing left. Quickly you swallowed what hit your tongue not thinking of the taste. Stu seemed to have a mouth full as he swallowed. "That would be way easier with a chaser." Stu joked wiping his mouth off with the back of his hand. "Shut up." Billy said with a smile trying to clear the fog from his mind. Stu pressed his lips yours as he slowly pushed you back on the mat. Both of you had yet to finish and he was going to fix that.

His cock seemed to slam into you making your breath leave your body. He sat up holding your legs still. Stu's pace was quick and brutal making your moans come out in fractions. One of his hands fell between your legs playing with you clit. His thrusts never faltered as you slowly felt that familiar pressure build. Your face contorted in pleasure signaling you were close. Stu's free hand covered your mouth knowing how loud you could get. That band seemed to snap within you making chills cover your body. You cried out into his palm as he continued his thrusts. Once your orgasm had passed he pulled out finishing over your stomach.

Stu gasped for air not being able to breathe. He fell over on the mat trying to catch his breath. It'd be awhile since he had an orgasm so strong. Billy went into his backpack pulling out the wet wipes he had brought. The cloth was freezing against your warm skin. A small wince left your lips as he cleaned up the mess his partner made. "I know baby..." He whispered. Billy pitched the cloth to the corner of the tent telling himself he'd get it in the morning. Billy fell between you and Stu before pulling a blanket to cover you and him. "That was fucking awesome." Stu exclaimed finally getting ahold of the air he urgently needed. "You okay?" Billy asked you seeing the permanent smile plastered on your face. "I think we broke her Macher." He smiled glad everyone enjoyed themselves. Stu curled up next to Billy pulling the blanket over his lower half.

"Do you hear that?" You asked the boys listening to the soft sound of grunting. "Holy shit." Billy said as Stu giggled. "Here I was worried they could hear us." You said laughing. Your head rested on Billy's chest listening to his heartbeat. The three in the other tent went at it for another 5 minutes making you and your boyfriends laugh. Stu was the first to fall asleep, softly snoring into his pillow. "That was okay wasn't it?" Billy asked again. He could be really assertive and aggressive during sex but afterwards he'd make sure everyone was okay. You pressed a kiss to his cheek. "It was great. I'm just a little sore." Stu wasn't a careful person. He could be extremely rough but he never meant to be. You knew tomorrow he'd be carrying you around saying he was sorry for being so careless.

"Do you need anything before I fall asleep?" His voice became deep with sleep. "No I don't think so." He kissed the top of your head before getting comfortable. Within 10 minutes you were both fast asleep.

The morning sun was unforgiving. The tent did little to nothing when it came to shielding you from the light. "Morning sunshine!" Stu said looking down at your naked body. "Good morning pervert." He leaned down pressing a kiss to your lips. "Sydney made coffee if you want some." You looked to your left noticing the lack of Billy. Stu noticed your concern. "He's already up. Tatum and Randy are still sleeping." He laughed thinking of last night. You nodded letting Stu leave before you got dressed.

"Good morning." Sydney said both of you shared a moment of silent acknowledgment. "Morning." She handed you a cup of coffee which you thanked her for. Tatum erupted from the tent ready to fight anyone who said something. "Did you have a good night last night?" Stu asked making Billy look at the ground with a smile. "Suck a dick Stu. Oh wait, you did." Tatum said almost making you choke on your drink. Billy couldn't help but laugh with Sydney. "That wasn't even that funny." Stu said disappointed in his friends. Randy was the next to leave the tent earning a high five from Stu. "Randy my man!" You rolled your eyes sipping on your drink.

The day dragged on with everyone going swimming and later eating hot dogs. By the end of the day everyone was on good terms even laughing about the night previous. Sydney snapped some photos of the group making sure everyone had atleast one polaroid to take home. Billy looked down at the picture in his hand. Everyone was smiling and having fun. He hated to say it but he might just go camping again.

[mrs-saturday]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ My Number One Boy.

♥ my masterlist!

♥ pairing: sub!george russell x softdom!reader

♥ synopsis: George just needs looking after tonight.

♥ warnings: smut (duh), sub/dom relationship, george likes tits (a LOT), mommy kink, george is so so so whiny, handjobs, kinda in public (i luv driver room sex), comfort sex

♥ a/n: after Sunday, I needed comfort but I also can’t help but write sex so have this. Also is anyone interested in me starting a taglist? 

It had all fallen apart the second he came back from the steward’s room. Eyes puffy and cheeks red, lightly brushed by melancholy, George was stood at his driver’s room door, no trophy in hand. You knew exactly what had happened. Nothing pained you more than this; to see your sweet boy stripped of a win he’d fought so hard for, not of his own wrongdoing. His shoulders relaxed immediately, seeing you laying on the bed in his room, in shorts and his oversized Mercedes t-shirt.

You beckoned him over with a gentle flick of your wrist, and he came running towards you, barreling into you. After the initial shock of the taller man’s impact, you ran your fingers through his hair and pulled him tight, “Oh, sweet boy, let it out.” you crooned, and as if on cue, the man started bawling into your chest. The sobs wracked their way through his body into yours, and you ran your hand up and down his back, nails gently scratching his tanned skin.

“I-I’m a failure, Y/N-” he hiccuped softly, between broken cries, his hands holding onto your shirt like a small child who’d just fallen off their bike and ran to their mother, “I-I was so close a-and they took it away…” You shushed him gently, tilting his chin to look up at you. “George, my angel, none of this was your fault” A soft sigh escaped your lips, as you brushed his sweat-dampened curls back off of his forehead. “It was nothing to do with you, or your amazing drive today, and everything to do with a lousy team error! I swear to God, babe when I catch Toto, he best beli-” He cut you off with a soft giggle “You’re cute when you get all defensive of me” 

You smiled back, happy to see even the tiniest glimmer of positivity in the man wrapped around you. “Is there anything I can do to cheer you up, bubba?” you said, and the Brit’s cheeks went a rosy pink, as he looked up as you with shimmery blue eyes “T-take care of me please..” he whimpered, face nestling into your tits ever so slightly to hide his blush.

You knew what this meant, and were more than happy to oblige. You and George hadn’t long started this dynamic, but ever since you caught George searching for how to ask his partner to be more dominant in the bedroom, you’d had a chat and agreed to the dynamic with George. After a few tries, you had discovered George had quite the oral fixation, and a little bit of an affinity for calling you some variation of “mommy”. The man just liked to be looked after, mostly after a hard day, or a long and exhausting  trip , and who were you to say no to that little pout of his. He was still shy, however, and could never express his slip into subspace, so simply asked you to

 “T-take care of me please mommy, I need it…” his repeated question snaps you out of thinking of how this all began, and you lift his chin to meet your gaze. “Of course, my little prince, how could I say no to you?” He smiled, and giggled a little as he wiped his eyes, and allowed you to take his lips in a gentle kiss. He immediately melted under your touch, mouth slipping open to allow you to explore his mouth gently with your tongue. You slid your hands down his body to find a comfy spot at his hips to pull him closer, as his hands pawed at your shirt like a needy kitten. You pull away, shaking your head softly “Ah-ah, good boys ask and don’t paw at mommy for what they want” George whimpered, still pulling at your shirt “George, baby, good boys use their words, remember?” He nodded and looked up at you, hands unrelenting “P-please lemme play with them-” He almost salivated as you nodded and took the shirt off, revealing that you were braless. 

You sat up, patting your lap gently, and George lay his head down, humming gently as he reached to gently roll a nipple in his fingers. Sighing gently, you ran your fingers through his hair as he latched onto your breast. The sucking motion always caught you off guard for a second, but you had eased into it after the initial shock and allowed George to find his comfort in it. “Good boy” you purr, much to his delight, as you see his cock twitch in his sweats. You smirked and ran your hand down George’s slender frame, as he whimpered, sucking a little bit faster, only breaking his firm latch when you pulled his poor, aching dick from its confines.

“Oh? What’s this baby?” You smirked, as you slowly stroked upwards, eliciting a sharp but quiet moan “P-Please mommy, again”. Nodding, you repeated the motion, letting your sweet boy buck up into your hand to get more friction. You chuckle as you let him rut up into your hand, precum dribbling over your hand, clouding the sparkle of the engagement ring you’d received just a few weeks prior. 

He had resumed his latch, using the sucking motion to muffle the whines and begs escaping his lips, and you couldn't help but moan a little yourself, the pleasure of the suction, and the sweet cries of your baby boy materializing as a warm wetness in your panties.But tonight wasn’t about you, it was about the slender man thrashing his cock into your hand, and you took a little pity and began to jerk quickly, causing him to let go of your breast and let out a high pitched “Mommy- Mommy I’m so close please-”

“Use your words angel. What do you want?” You speed up the motion, knowing EXACTLY what your baby needed to feel better “P-Please let me c-cum I can’t hold it..” he begged, sounding like music to your ears. “Go on, prince, cum for me honey” you affirm, and cum he did.

Warm ropes of the Brit covered your hand further, accompanied by the symphony of his climax, and his eventual relaxation into your lap. His face was bright red, and a wide smile plastered across his face as he looked up at your “Thank you Y/N, I needed that” 

“Anytime, sweet boy, now, let’s get you cleaned up, my number one boy”

[jiminrings]

yoongi’s lullaby

pairing: yoongi x reader

wordcount: 13k

glimpse: there’s two things you can conclude from yoongi’s shapeshifting service: a) it’s great for his wallet, and b) it’s crushing for your heart.

alternatively, yoongi’s your best friend and soulmate, and you have to watch him fall in love over and over again.

[ 40% angst, soulmate au, yoongi is a capitalist (he shapeshifts and goes on fake dates then gets a load of money), fluff + wholesomeness, unrequited love (at first), f2l, self-deprecation, jealousy, YEARNING!!!, Redemption Arc I Promise ]

notes: this is part of the hlwwf universe :) and just like its predecessor, it’s also based on a song!! i haven’t felt this excited to write a fic in a while so i hope u love it as much as i do <3

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Yoongi must be the universe’s reward to you for every good deed you’ve ever done.

When Yoongi lets himself to be roped into joining in your newest fixation, it must be your good karma because you sat front-row for each one of your younger siblings’ school events.

When he reminds you to drink your water and not skip your meals, even going so far as to deliver both to you as often as he could, it must be the universe’s payment to you for watering plants and going on that one (1) mandatory tree planting activity.

When he gives you all the credentials to log into his premium streaming platforms even without you asking, it must be fate’s way of thanking you for not making a fuss whenever a barista messes up your order or when a stranger cuts in line.

Yoongi is the good in your life and he has been ever since you were teens, reminding you of what you’ve worked hard for in life because when he wasn’t so busy going through the same hardships you did, he would be at the sidelines waiting for you to finish.

Or he could be someplace else without even sending a lousy text regarding his wellbeing nor his notice that he can’t be at your awarding ceremony tonight because he’s busy doing his job, serving as a reminder that Yoongi must also be the universe’s punishment to you for your missteps and lapses.

When he comes and goes into your apartment freely as treats himself to your newly-bought groceries, it must be retribution because you lost your temper on your college roommate once for eating the leftovers you’ve been craving since the night before.

When he salvages all the spare batteries you have lying around to power up his huge clock back at his apartment, therefore leaving you to eventually spend a rainy night without flashlights because of a power outage, it must be payback for lowering the temperature in your breakroom even with the sign that specifically tells you not to.

Whenever Yoongi mentions his shapeshifting “career” (he argues that it is) to you, a gift he had been born with and one he really maximizes to the fullest potential and profit, you’re reminded how much of it is a curse to you.

Yoongi must be the universe’s greatest reward and punishment for you at the same time because while he’s your soulmate and you spend almost every day with him — you have to see him fall in love with everyone else but you, over and over again.

“You should be splitting rent with me at this point. You’re always here,” you groan as soon as you spot him on your couch, barely escaping the grogginess you’re still in from having a long night. 

His presence isn’t surprising anymore given the time you’ve been with him and how this exact situation has already played out tons of times before (him breaking into your place because he doesn’t want to be alone, you blissfully clueless until you hear raccoon-like searching in your kitchen) — it’s more irking than it is surprising, especially when you wake up at the wrong side of the bed.

“Do you not want me around?” Yoongi laughs heartily, unwilling to wipe his grin off when you don’t react. “That’s what I thought.”

He’s already beaten you to the TV and while he hasn’t had breakfast yet because he thought that the least he could do is wait for you to wake up so you could make it and the two of you can eat together, he’s getting there anyway.

“What type of horrible soulmate kicks out their other half that hasn’t had breakfast yet at 8 in the morning?” he hums, a faux pout on his face that rubs you the wrong way. You’re still pissed at him for not showing up at your awarding ceremony last night for being the top developer in your tech company, his lengthy apologetic text before you went to sleep still not doing its full effects.

“You don’t wanna tread there,” you huff, crossing your arms. “I have a lot on my chest, Yoongi. A lot of hateful, vile, factual comebacks.”

“Exactly!” he exclaims, the smile on his face telling you that he’s taking this lightly; way more lightly than you’d like him to. “We’ve had this conversation a million times before, baby. Sometimes, people just aren’t meant to be,” Yoongi shrugs, his words embedded in you now from repetition alone. “Some soulmates are only platonic.”

“That’s what you want because you’re non-committal,” you hiss, the incoming headache you have for having this conversation too early in the morning making you sit yourself on the couch. Yoongi grins because he knows you won’t kick him out at this point, slinging an arm across your shoulders while you’re still glaring at him. “Your hustle or whatever you call it is falling in love with everyone but me.”

“Uhm, correction — it’s a career,” he tuts. “I have a gift, Y/N. What, I can shapeshift into other people and I’m not supposed to capitalize off of that?”

He had only started offering his services a little more than a year ago, a byproduct of his boredom and his producing internship at the music label falling through. It just came to him in a fever dream and a drunken suggestion from you, and one website domain purchase and a socialite with a lot of connections for a first client later, Yoongi quickly made bank.

SeeAndSaw’s a trial dating service led by Yoongi, one that would answer clients’ curiosities to whether or not they were compatible with a person, and that’s where his shapeshifting came in handy. His services continue to be used for a multitude of reasons, the most common one being to see if the client would match with their soulmates (or just a random person, he’s not particular like that) ahead of their meeting. He’s also become a handy instrument here and there, breaking up with people in his clients’ behalf because they were too guilty to do so, to becoming a stand-in for clients that needed to present someone to their families for occasions.

Yoongi acts far too casual to you and not only is its time’s fault, it’s also yours for keeping him around in any way you can have him, even if it’s just as a friend. 

“I keep professing my love for you every two weeks and I’m doing it now while you’re eating my leftovers. People would kill just to have a soulmate as dedicated as me,” you frown, slowly softening the more that you’re rendered awake. Yoongi’s right, you did have this conversation a million times before and it’s the realization of it all that perhaps, at rare times, makes it hurt less.

“We’ve had this talk before,” he sing-songs, digging into the carbonara you took home that he retrieved not even one minute later since you joined him on the couch.

“For someone who makes bank fake dating people, you sure do leech off of me a lot,” you grumble, effectively quietened when he shoves a forkful of pasta into your mouth.

“That reminds me,” Yoongi grins, building up to a dramatic gasp. “I love-…” 

He trails and trails and if only you didn’t know any better, you would know that Yoongi wouldn’t profess his love for you in your living room while you were still in your pajamas eating cold carbonara. Much less, Yoongi wouldn’t tell you at all that he loves you.

“I love doing that,” he agrees, disappointed for a second when you didn’t even react to him doing a cliffhanger about what or who he loves. “My treat for you this week is to get you a new mattress. You’ll be less grumpy in the mornings.”

“The mattress can stay for a little longer. Can you just get me a new alarm system please?” you say without missing a beat, having already thought long and hard about what make-up gift you wanted him to give you from missing out on your awarding ceremony. 

“Why? Are you okay? Did anybody attempt to break in?” Yoongi asks concerned, brows knotted in worry. He grunts under his breath, shaking his head. “I already told you to move into my apartment complex so many times. It’s much safer there.”

That’s also a conversation you’ve had a million times before, all circling back to your attachment to the first place that you bought with your own money. It’s not bad per se, it just looks like it when you show it side-by-side with Yoongi’s place.

“Oh. They already broke in,” you narrow your eyes, oblivious to the panic brewing in Yoongi.

“What the fuck? Why didn’t you tell me?! Are you-…” he rants, stopping himself when he sees the irony. “Okay, I get it. You’re not funny.”

You and Yoongi eat cold carbonara in total silence, save for his grumbles of how you should never joke about your safety and yours for how he should start chipping in for your bills if he’s gonna keep showing up like this.

Yoongi swears he doesn’t find you funny. He swears it on his life when a few days later, a guy is sent to your house to update your security system. There’s a couple hundred packages of additional manual locks, along with Yoongi’s letter of how he still doesn’t find you funny, amongst other things.

Please guard your home. Don’t let anybody else in except me.

- Yoongi

( ♡ )

Yoongi despises change.

He’s with the elderly when it comes to online menus in an actual, physical restaurant, annoyed by them to the point that sometimes he just walks out. He can’t help it that he wants a nice, slightly greasy, and good menu because it just goes to show how great the food would be. 

He hates whoever invented and continues to advertise white cooking equipment that’s beyond impractical, knowing to himself that he would disown any friends or family he’ll catch using them. You spent a good two seconds more looking at a white ceramic pot that one time when you were online shopping, and Yoongi’s never been more determined to hurl your phone to the floor.

Yoongi also hates overly-modified cars and overly-decorated phone cases, because as much as it isn’t his business, he firmly believes that sometimes there are things meant to be left alone.

His voicemail is still the same one he had back in college and his standard ringtone for everyone remains untouched — everyone but you.

Yoongi knows that he’s in charge of his time given his very successful career and he worked around his whole schedule just to grant himself the luxury of sleeping in today. He wants to have himself buried in his cold sheets for longer but it’s your call that overrides his phone on Do Not Disturb, shaking him awake quicker.

“Yoongi?” you ask, too wrapped up in your internal to-do list to notice that he answered at the second ring. “Help me please.”

“Spider family in your cupboards again?” he yawns, rubbing the sleep off his eyes. God, he hopes it’s not that again. He isn’t the biggest fan of spiders either but at your insistence (and threatening last time that you’ll ignore him for a week), he forced himself to swallow down the unease.

“No, I woke up late,” you hum, once again oblivious that you’re intruding on Yoongi’s plans. He doesn’t mind though; not at all. “I just got a text about my package and I accidentally used your address again. The front desk received it.” 

Yoongi’s address has already become your secondary one at this point, from food deliveries from staying over to parcels you made him receive because you wouldn’t be home at the time. You’ve gotten used to utilizing his address, his home, so much that you forget which is which sometimes.

“Can you sign off on it as me?”

You know potential and convenience when you have it within reach, and the both of you know that your best friend slash soulmate gets a sense of pride whenever you need to utilize his shapeshifting abilities.

“Okay fine. I’ll even talk you up as a future tenant here because you’re taking my advice and moving to my building, right?” he caves in even if it took nothing for you to convince him, putting on a shirt before finding his slippers.

“What, what? Yoongi, oh! You’re breaking up,” you make a half-assed attempt in avoiding the offer once again. You could afford it with the salary you have now but aside your attachment to the place you have now, being closer to Yoongi in this context would precisely be the demise of you. “Thanks, Yoongs. Bring the package with you when you come over.”

Yoongi’s filial when it comes to you, that much you’ve noticed. He may not be in love with you but his loyalty to you is as clear as day, much of a soulmate’s but not exactly a lover’s.

It’s supposed to be like clockwork when he picks up his parcels (yours in this case) from the front desk but there’s just something he belatedly realizes now, his mouth in a grimace when he has to pry off your package from the receptionist who was unabashedly asking where you were.

He didn’t know that every time this would happen, or in any case wherein you came by yourself to his apartment and therefore passing by the front desk, the sleaze would flirt with you.

“Joohyuk from the front desk always comes off strong, huh?” Yoongi snickers the moment he enters your place, handing you your stuff instead of tossing it like he usually would.

“Tell me about it. He doesn’t give me a break,” you snort, unfazed that he doesn’t greet you with a hi anymore because your current visiting set-up has been executed many times.

Yoongi doesn’t know what to do with the unhinged anger in his brain that unfolds because from your response alone, you’re used to it. You’re used to feeling uneasy and he hadn’t caught on earlier than he should’ve, the guilt weighing down on his chest.

“Hey,” he calls out, his tone leaving you no room for objections. “I’ll receive your packages from now on.”

( ♡ )

You don’t know how you keep holding onto Yoongi despite him grasping you from afar.

It’s a melancholy enough as it is to swallow at the end of the day that Yoongi’s yours but not in the way you want him to be, along with the great possibility that it would always be that way. You don’t heed the reminder when you’re with him and that’s almost everyday of your life, the ache that you’re the only one pining after him remaining as a dull thrum. 

He seeks you in seasons but you look for him in all weathers, the great search of when you’d finally amount more to him still coming up unanswered.

You can handle seeing Yoongi often with the cue that you’re only friends despite the initials on both your ring fingers saying otherwise. You can manage with introducing him only as your close friend to colleagues and acquaintances because you don’t want to end up with a long-winded explanation how he wants you but really doesn’t.

Yoongi can deal with your moony stares at him every once in a while and your professions of love, whether sober or drunken. On the same vein, you can deal with the rejection he serves you every single time.

The both of you are adults who can handle each other, one more high-strung than the other, and it’s only in moments like these that you reach your limit. You’re awfully too aware of how easy it is for Yoongi to work, to be in love with people he only knows vaguely.

“I don’t like to see you when you’re at work.”

You’re momentarily caught with panic when you see a stranger in your living room, only being caught up to date when he’s sprawled across your couch in the same way that Yoongi does, the very same shit-eating grin he has on for giving you a fright.

You don’t know the guy at all and you don’t plan to. You try your best to separate yourself from Yoongi’s shapeshifting business, most especially his clients and the extensions of them that he has to portray. You don’t even want to hear the stories behind his appointments even if he begs for you to hear him out because he just wants someone to talk to. 

The moment you fully accept that Yoongi would belong to everyone but you is the day that you rue him.

And in a longingly heartbreaking fashion, you don’t hate Yoongi — yet.

He momentarily changes back to himself, sneaking a look at his watch to see how many minutes he has more of annoying you before going on a date just two blocks away from your place.

“Why?” he whines, and in retaliation, changes back to the stranger. “I’m Hong Dusik. I’m from the countryside, moved back to the city to do stocks, and my dimples are literally embedded in there. I’m my client’s soulmate and it’s their first date next week but she’s shy and she’s nervous, so she’s having a dry-run with me first.”

Tuning Yoongi out has become a skill you continue to hone and while it isn’t foolproof just yet, it’s helped tremendously when you want nothing more than to kick him (or any form he takes) out.

“Nice.”

“You’re icing me out, sweetie?” his voice lulls, the sweetness behind it cloying until you remember that you don’t know the guy it belongs to.

“My god, your dimples are deep,” you murmur, clutching your bag to your chest. “Switch back, Yoongi.”

“Why? Dusik’s a nice guy.”

You kiss your teeth with the annoyance of a hundred days built up, gritting out your answer that makes him falter momentarily. “I’ve heard already, but I don’t plan seeing Dusik or any other stranger in my home.”

“Aw, you’re so loyal to your soulmate, whoever he may be,” he coughs, shifting back to himself. At any other day, Yoongi’s playful nature would be met with one of your sarcastic remarks but he doesn’t get any this time, the ghost of a frown accompanying his lips.

He’s admittedly nervous when you don’t play along with him, but his urge to sneak one last word in overtakes his trepidation.

“My advice to get over me? Bone it out. Get it out of your system. Soon enough, my initials would fade.”

Come to think of it, Yoongi’s advice isn’t all that bad.

“If Dusik and his girl don’t work out, just send him to me,” you nod, retreating to your room.

“Good! I’ll-…” he grins, satisfied with ticking you off until your words sink into him, the double-take that he makes giving him an ache on his neck. “What?” Yoongi murmurs, “I didn’t mean it that seriously.”

( ♡ )

In a parallel universe or in a different life, Yoongi actually lives with you. In that reality, you’re still soulmates and the difference is that he loves you back. He doesn’t have the ability to shapeshift and you don’t have to profess your love repeatedly either.

In a parallel universe or a different life, Yoongi’s cooking you dinner. Dinner would be just takeout from a drive-thru that he transfers to plates because the two of you barely ate the bourgeoisie food at your awarding ceremony. You’re still the top developer in your tech company, but the difference is that he’s there and you get to introduce him as your soulmate and not just a friend who coincidentally bears the same initials on your finger.

In a parallel universe or a different life, Yoongi is your soulmate before he is your friend. He doesn’t condense your love for him as a mere obligation. He doesn’t bat an eye at your confessions because in that reality, he’s the one who loves you more than you love him.

You don’t have that life though — what you have at the moment is Yoongi, your soulmate, not being able to see what was wrong signing you up for a dating app. You wouldn’t have known if not for the couple hundred notifications you receive in your personal phone that you left at home.

You wouldn’t be this angry if Yoongi could just accept that he went out of line.

“How many times do I have to say it over and over again?” you yell, hands flailing around helplessly. The smug look on Yoongi’s face remains, strengthened only by his stubbornness. “I love you and it’s just always been you!”

This is not the life you pictured with your soulmate. In your head, you don’t even see a particular space the two of you would live in. The home you see in your dreams is ever-changing, the layout of it never staying the same. The only thing that stays in the life you picture is Yoongi. Your Yoongi.

“Why can’t you put me in your choices atleast? We’re soulmates and you’ve been my only choice but I’m– fuck!” you exclaim, sucking in a sharp breath when you feel a momentary stab at your chest. “You don’t even consider me to be a potential girlfriend even if my initials are on your finger!”

In another world, Yoongi doesn’t look at you with a clenched jaw when you speak your mind. The two of you have grown sick at this conversation but the difference in your world now is that you’re beyond angry at him, the frustration unmistakeable when you look at him.

“Why can’t it be me, Yoongi?” you seethe, fists clenched tightly that your knuckles turn white. “For fuck’s sake, when can it be me? When can it be my turn? When do you pick me?”

Yoongi didn’t mean for you to be heated with him. It was a practical joke, only following through with the half-hearted advice he gave you when he showed up at your apartment as Dusik. 

He just wanted to prove a point that you don’t want to give up on him as much as he doesn’t want you to stop trying for him. It’s selfish, he’s selfish. And if only Yoongi could focus on how conceited he is rather than the anguish he feels about you being angry and upset at him, he would wipe off the arrogance from his face.

“I hate your job so, so fucking much. It looks pathetic to me even if I know you must enjoy it a lot,” you burst, saying your truth that you’ve tried to minimize in order to make way for his self-esteem. “Your business is to be these random people’s dream guy but you’re mine. You’re my dreamboat, my ideal guy, my person! I’m your soulmate but I feel like shit. Just utter, hopeless shit that you visit almost everyday because you don’t want to be alone!”

He can’t put it into words but in the simplest way he could put it, being alone feels like a punishment more than it is a solace. Yoongi lives alone and he can handle it, but him tolerating it doesn’t mean that he loves it. 

It’s always been you and him, one way or another. In the trench of your love, waiting for Yoongi to come around is worth it. In the shore of your doubts however, the novelty of having Yoongi is starting to wear off.

You make up your mind then and there, the ascent from your trench to your shore increasingly coming fast by the day.

“Leave. You’re not staying the night here.”

Yoongi breaks by then, a dry sob leaving his throat while he tries to plead with the resoluteness in your tone.

“What kind of-“

“What kind of soulmate throws out their other half in the middle of the night?” you interrupt, knowing that Yoongi only mentions your status when he’s desperate. “The kind that doesn’t want to be soulmates anymore.”

You sound the most casual you’ve ever been and Yoongi’s annoyed at you for it, his eyes narrowed into slits. He’ll oblige for the night, on his way to the door when he looks at you.

“With all due respect, Y/N, screw you. You don’t mean that,” he mutters, chest heaving up and down. He’s convincing you as much as he’s convincing himself. “You’re just angry, you’re sad, and you don’t mean that.”

Your back’s turned to him when he leaves, or atleast attempts to do so because he doesn’t want to make his exit when you refuse to even look at him.

“I mean it right now, let’s focus on that,” you chuckle, already turning off the lights in the apartment without sparing a single glance at him. “Go away, Yoongi.”

( ♡ )

Unsurprisingly, you find Yoongi at your house the next day when you come home from work.

He probably has your key fob microchipped on him nowadays, your huge fight from last night not being enough to deter him from coming over. He’s a stubborn and mostly annoying stain you have in your life at the exact second, the two of you unwilling to apologize to each other.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you mutter, rolling your eyes when you set your bag down on the counter. You’re on a time crunch, the window you have of preparing yourself to look divine already closing down steadily.

“The fuck are you doing home?” Yoongi retorts just for the sake of it and simply because he wants to keep the conversation (if it was even called that) going, trying to ignore the fact that he totally bombed his comeback and makes up for it by staring at your leftover dumplings on his plate.

You’re busy fending for yourself, your eyes too preoccupied in rolling to the back of your head that you fail to notice Yoongi’s puffy with all the crying he did last night. You ignore him and go straight to your bedroom, not having enough time to multitask showering and fighting with him.

You’ve already went through your entire routine and dressed yourself up, the frustration in you only skyrocketing up when Yoongi’s still there in your kitchen.

“Either get out or move out of my way,” you say as you retrieve yourself a snack from your cupboards to munch on while you multitask, intentionally bumping your shoulder with him in the process. “I’m going out on a date.”

Yoongi heavily sighs, his fork clattering on the plate loudly. He tries to keep his emotions at bay because this is all his fault, the fight in his body tensing his shoulders.

“You’re lashing out.”

“I’m not lashing out,” you argue, looking at the clock to see if you could still fit in fighting with Yoongi between spraying your perfume and meeting your date by the front door. “Lashing out would be me bringing my date home and fucking him loudly in my room.”

He stabs the dumplings a little too harshly and a little too unnecessarily, fitting two in his mouth while clenching his fists because he knows a nasty remark is just bubbling to be said.

Yoongi’s being childish and your patience has already run thin to deal with him especially when you’re mad, the huff that leaves you sounding extremely personal.

“What are you even doing here? Go back to your house.”

“My appointment’s just at the next block. Your place is closer.”

“You could’ve just driven there directly instead of camping out here.”

Yoongi sarcastically smiles, his eyes in crescents as he makes a show of tilting his head. “Can I notspend time anymore with my best friend? My soulmate, even?”

“Stop saying the s-word,” you grit. “Don’t say that when I bring Jimin home.”

The resounding tension that envelopes the two of you finally snaps, manifesting into a scoff from Yoongi so offended and loud that it resonated in your apartment like a clap of thunder. 

“Jimin from high school? You’re exes for a reason, remember?” he exclaims, eyes blinking in disbelief because he figures he must’ve heard you wrong. “He broke up with you when he went abroad for college because he can’t do long-distance. What makes you think he’ll give you the time of day this time?”

None of his words register in your head, blissfully letting them fly over. Jimin only invited you to catch up and you obliged; it’s not like you didn’t have years of love amongst yourselves to shroud yourself in anonymisity. Plus, it’s not like he asked you to try again with him — it’s dinner. Just dinner.

“He’s already outside. Also, it’s clearly a short distance this time.”

“Don’t be smart with me,” Yoongi scoffs, standing up abruptly with his arms across his chest. “I’m gonna barricade the door if you come home with him.”

“Good. I can come home with him to his place.”

“I’ll barricade his door,” he retorts without even thinking, his brows knotted in exasperation.

“Go fuck yourself,” you narrow your eyes at him, letting your glare at him linger until you get to the front door. “While I fuck Jimin.”

“You’re so-“

Yoongi points an accusing finger at you, unable to finish his sentence now that you’ve left. You’re stubborn.

If he’s being honest, the thought of you merely giving Jimin the time of day makes him uneasy. It puts a void on his stomach and an even larger cavity in his chest.

And if Yoongi’s being more honest, he doesn’t even have an appointment nearby. He just wanted to be with you whichever way he can.

( ♡ )

Yoongi used to hate crossfit.

He hated even the concept of it because the trainers for it at the gym have a superiority complex when talking about it as if it was revolutionary; as if launching yourself a feet into the air while doing push-ups from point to point was groundbreaking.

Even his friend, Jungkook, knowsjust how much he hates it. He didn’t particularly have a preference when it comes to working out, but Yoongi’s random and unprovoked hate for random things is starting to rub off on him. They both hate crossfit… right?

Jungkook doesn’t know how to react when he sees Yoongi doing pull-ups with one hand diagonally while a kettlebell’s on the other. He doesn’t know what to feel seeing him agitatedly do push-ups while wearing a weighted vest and with his feet up on a medicine ball. 

Jungkook, for a fact, does not know what his cue should be when he sees Yoongi running 24kph on a treadmill with his eyes fixated on the phone in his hand, although he’s about 99% sure that this is not exactly crossfit.

He’s known him for years now and there’s barely anything between them that they don’t know about each other. Jungkook, however, doesn’t know the threshold of Yoongi’s emotional constipation, slightly concerned when he sees his friend’s mind drift elsewhere.

“Yoongi, are we okay there buddy?”

“Huh?” he squints, looking up from his dessert which he’s just been staring at the past two minutes.

Jungkook clears his throat, vaguely mentioning to the poor utensil in his hand. “You’re bending the fork.”

“It was already bent when you handed it to me,” he weakly counters, setting the metal down without much concern.

“I uhm, I really don’t think so.”

Yoongi only supplies with him a scowl and normally, being the filial and nosey friend that he is, it was cue for him to inquire what was going on. Jungkook likes including himself and it’s one of the numerous things he has in common with Yoongi, but it was clear as day just how differently it manifests for each of them.

Yoongi’s only been staring at the mocha crepe cake because he knows he would be incessantly interrupted by Jungkook once he started eating it, but come to to think of it, the younger hasn’t asked him even once.

He narrows his eyes at him, crossing his arms with a sly look to his face.

“What are you waiting for? I know you’re dying to ask me.”

Jungkook scoffs, rolling his eyes so passionately that Yoongi saw you in him for a second. “No, you’re dying to be asked. It’s always like this! You want to get something out of your chest but you always need me to ask first and then you pretend like you don’t like it.”

His face is far too straight and he got to the point really quickly with his delivery, his posture standing straight at the unimpressed look Yoongi gives him.

“Sorry. Your emotional constipation’s rubbing off of on me,” he hums sickeningly, batting his eyes. “Yes, Yoongi? What seems to be on your mind?”

Not even a second goes by before Yoongi breaks, his shoulders falling in recollection. “It’s Y/N. You already know my deal with her.”

“Of course I do. Aren’t we basically the same?” Jungkook tilts his head in thought. “Longtime best friends with our soulmates but the only difference is that the two of you knew at the beginning?” he continues, mixing his drink with his straw just to cushion the impending blow this conversation might inflict on him. “And uhm, that you spend every waking moment refusing her but magically, your friendship isn’t ruined over it?”

“You go on and on like an audiobook.”

He’s not the least bit offended because he does have the voice for it, but it wasn’t so audiobook-ish of him when his hands flail and his voice pitches in remembrance. “Oh also, you’re a shapeshifter! Poor Y/N has to watch you date all these people except her.”

“Which side are you on?” Yoongi looks down on his feet, the sigh that leaves him slowly weighing as much as the conflict in his mind. “There’s one more difference, by the way. I think she’s making me jealous.”

Now, Jungkook doesn’t flatter Yoongi all too much because his ego outnumbers his and that’s coming from him! But this is the one time that Jungkook has to hand it to him, his friend’s delivery and impeccable timing giving him the best chuckle he’s had this week.

“She’s intentionally making you jealous? God, Yoongi. Are we skimming over the fact that maybe she’s just grown sick of you?”

“You don’t get it!” he whines. “She’s entertaining her ex from high school. This stupidly blonde, stupidly genius, stupidly always available guy named Jimin! What a stupid name too. Seriously, he’s so-…”

The café’s well-lit and the acoustics are good too but there’s just this one cloud that forms above Jungkook when Yoongi mentions Jimin’s name, his brows suddenly furrowing in annoyance.

“Jimin?” he clarifies. “Jimin who?”

“This isn’t a knock-knock joke.”

The urge to smack Yoongi would always be larger than Jungkook’s intent to be the bigger person, his curiosity bursting at the seams. “What’s his family name, you idiot?”

“Why does it matter? You don’t know him anyway. It’s Park Jimin,” Yoongi rolls his eyes as he soothes the side of his head, equally as annoyed now. 

The gasp coming from Jungkook alone shushes the entire café, his eyes as expressive as ever and his voice even louder, forcing Yoongi to sink further to his seat until the onlookers take their eyes away from the table.

“You’re joking me!” he booms, running his hands though his hair in a frenzy. “Guy from Busan, stayed until high school, then went to Harvard for college?”

“How do you know him?” Yoongi questions but at this point the how doesn’t matter as much as the why, his friend’s expression enough to keep him at the edge of his seat.

“Because he tried poaching my soulmate too!” Jungkook exclaims, pausing between words because he’s still speechless. “It’s this long story. We’re distant family friends, then I almost lost my bond, then-…”

Yoongi shushes him, putting up a hand for the both of them to stay on track. “Can we get back to me? Can we put a pause on the Jungkook and soulmate show?”

They’re a duo of insufferable people, one more self-absorbed and insufferable than the other. Jungkook sees much of his past self in Yoongi despite the latter being older, the irony of the situation rendering him breathless.

“What do I do about Jimin? Surely, he has a soulmate and it’s definitely not my Y/N,” Yoongi desperately asks for advice even if he thinks it’s beneath him, rubbing his face with his hands.

Jungkook thanks the universe and his soulmate for shaping him to be a better person because he could now hear what he used to sound like back then and by god was he emotionally constipated.

“My Y/N?” he mimics. “Let’s get you back to bed, uncle.”

He makes the internal reminder to get Yoongi away from crossfit because the punch that lands on his thigh is definitely powerful, making him wince loudly that once agains puts the both of them at the center of attention.

“Ow! What?! You can’t just refuse to be a thing with Y/N but then gatekeep her the moment she entertains another guy. That’s not how it works, believe me! I’ve literally been there before.”

Yoongi can hear Jungkook, but he doesn’t exactly understand.

He’s not oblivious to continue refusing the parallels between him and Jungkook but surely, the way it worked out for his friend means that it would for him too, right? 

He’s in denial but he’s not there at the stage yet where he actually acknowledges that he is, stuck in the realm of hope that you’re not sick of him yet.

“Okay what if– what if we try to find out who this Jimin’s soulmate is? Look for them, pluck just one strand of hair, and I shapeshift into them? Then I’ll tell him to back off from other people and only focus on his soulmate!”

Jungkook winces, scratching his head. “That’s wrong. And unethical. You have so many things to unpack, Yoongi.”

“It’s not my fault I can shapeshift!” he exasperatedly sighs, briefly mirroring Jungkook by shifting to him just to prove a point.

“It’s your fault that you’re this constipated to be willing to go to great lengths just to steer Y/N away from Jimin!”

“What do I do then?” Yoongi groans, plunking his head onto the table. He doesn’t even have to raise his head for Jungkook to know that he’s nearing a dead end, his hope about to run out sooner or later. “What did you do?”

“I woke up. Figured I was too self-absorbed back then to realize that it’s always been her for me.”

Jungkook shakes his friend, prompting him to start eating the crepe cake he treated him to but refuse to eat because he’s still wallowing in worry over where he stands with you.

“Wake up, Yoongi,” he sighs, looking down on the markings on his own ring finger that he thanks the heavens for every single day. “The universe works in mysterious ways.”

( ♡ )

Yoongi prides himself for having 20/20 vision.

He’s always boasted about his vision not deceiving him even once, the constant praise whenever he gets his yearly check-ups fully seeping into his head.

He’s neither suffering from a hangover nor vertigo. Yoongi’s mind is in a sound and safe place which is why he doesn’t get how it could be playing jokes on him now, the most crucial of times he’s been going through with you.

Your soulmate mark has completely disappeared.

It simply cannot be true to how his initials disappeared overnight and you just woke up one day to see that they’re gone. Yoongi’s hand is gripping yours tightly as if you’d suddenly disappear too, the glare he has at your ring finger vacant and unnerving at the same time.

“It’s blank. Oh my god, it’s completely blank,” your eyes can’t seem to believe it too, a silent gasp leaving you in shock.

You’ve already said your piece but it’s not what Yoongi’s looking for. You’re not as distraught nor panicked as he is and he knows right there that you’re only fucking with him, making him sigh in exhaustion.

“It’s obvious why you didn’t study liberal arts,” he mutters, rubbing your finger furiously. It makes absolutely no sense when not a single hint of his initials peek through, the worry over his lack of a mark on you growing by the second.

“Huh?” Yoongi says under his breath, his pursuit of trying to get your stint to budge leading him closer to you to the point that your foreheads almost bump when he looks to you. “Okay, what’s the secret? You used pot concealer instead of liquid? You color-corrected? Tons of setting spray?” he tries, licking his lips that turned dry in exasperation. He’s running out of ways you could’ve executed this, mind turning up empty. “You uh, you got it tattooed over with your exact shade match?”

The dread that fills Yoongi is liquid hurt. It builds up from droplets and takes form wherever it flows, turning murky in contained and neglected spaces. He can’t move on from the hurt that’s in his chest when he glances at your empty ring finger and then to his that still has yours; that still links you to him, yet unreciprocated.

“Why is it not budging?” 

“You’re rubbing all the way to my bone,” you chuckle, unable to read the anxiousness behind his tone. He looks disturbed even, lips parted with no explanation coming to mind.

“You’ve got me, Y/N,” he painfully chuckles, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. He bites too hard that he draws blood, eyes flickering ever so often. “Where did you hide the cameras this time?”

“Yoongi, I’m telling you! It’s really blank!” you chuckle but not as easily as the last time, sensing the atmosphere in the room that only favored you but not him. “Quick, walk into the wall. Let’s see if I feel it!”

He doesn’t know how you still have it in you to joke. He doesn’t know how you’re not panicking and as much as he’s figured that this is only one of the rare times where the universe favors you, he didn’t know it would result to this.

“First, I’m not walking into a wall. Second, you stop lying to me.”

“I’m not lying! I’m really serious!” your hands raise in defense, taking a step away from him. The starting notes of your laugh start to build but it never comes out fully because Yoongi interrupts you with a bitter laugh, throwing his head back in frustration.

You’re laughing. You’re unfazed and you’re laughing at Yoongi being at the end of his rope, his worry over losing his soulmate turning unrequited.

“Well then congrats on not having me as a soulmate anymore. I’m so happy for you!”

“What’s with the attitude?” you raise an eyebrow at him, scoffing in retaliation. It had only been lighthearted (for you, atleast) awhile ago and perhaps, maybe even humorous. You didn’t expect that he would receive the news like this at all. “No, congratulations to you, Yoongi, because you’ve been whining for years how you don’t want me and now you finally got it!”

The truth you say has been Yoongi’s for the longest time and the old him would’ve been thrilled because you finally got it. You finally got where he’s coming from and he didn’t need to deal with you pining after him but now that the realization comes here, one that you say to his face — it doesn’t feel good at all.

“Yeah, and I know and regret that now because I didn’t actually think the universe would listen!” his voice raises, pointing at his chest. “Fuck me for not thinking that the universe would stop to listen to my half-hearted wishes, am I right?”

“You’re right. Fuck you, actually!” you agree in spite, practically spitting your next words. “You’re so conceited. Why are you turning on me the moment you get what you thought you wanted?”

Yoongi doesn’t get it too.

He doesn’t get how he lets the flaw of his own insistence slip through his fingers so carelessly. He doesn’t even know what he wanted in the first place and it terrorizes him to know that he might just never know why, the answer for it only seen as a distant memory of you.

He doesn’t get how long he’s retained his insistence of preserving his safety zone by trying to deter you from loving him, when in reality, you’re the epitome of security itself. He didn’t think it through at all.

Yoongi didn’t think when he spent the past few years of his life rejecting your confessions and proposals in every opportunity that he could. Didn’t even leave you hanging from a thread of hope at all that he’d like you back; just a clean, straight refusal.

He didn’t stop to consider that the universe works in mysterious ways, because if he did earlier, he would’ve prayed to make you stay despite not being the type to get on his knees at all.

“Because I didn’t actually think we would stop being soulmates! I didn’t think that there’d be a reality where we aren’t together!” his voice cracks, his hands trembling at his sides. “It’s always been us, Y/N. I’ll always want you around.”

“Do you just want me around or do you want me?” you ask, the silence that follows after it being an accumulation of the ones you’ve had to spent alone when he rejected you. “I can’t be the background noise in your life, Yoongi. Not anymore. Y-yes, I know there are soulmates that are meant to be platonic but I don’t want that,” you stress, the tears springing to your eyes. “I can’t have that.”

It’s an ultimatum you didn’t know you would ever make at all.

“It’s either you have me as your soulmate or you don’t have me at all,” you say in strength, your thumb hovering about the ghost of his initials on your finger. “I can’t stand being your friend anymore.”

“You’d throw that away?” Yoongi croaks, taken aback. “You’d throw that– us away after all this time?”

“I would.”

“Your initials are still on my finger,” he reminds, sniffling as he pushes his hair back. This can’t be. You seriously can’t be posing this ultimatum to him, one that would determine both his present and future.

“Yours aren’t on mine,” you shot back. The lump on your throat is far too large to even swallow, each breath you take making it harder for you. “For the love of god, Yoongi, can you not deflect?” 

Yoongi’s the most panicked that he’s ever been in his life and in your surprising and rarely selfish nature, you don’t even pause.

“This is a big decision, Y/N! Can’t you please just give me some time to think?”

“No. You’ve had enough time to think when you’ve been stringing me around for years.”

The hurt that bubbles up in Yoongi comes like a riptide, unsuspecting yet just as devastating. There’s no pause between his words, much too smooth and articulate for someone who’s as panicked as he is now. They’ve stayed at the tip of his tongue before and lingered in the back of his mind even longer.

“I can’t think because I’m not sure about you, Y/N! I’m not sure if I’ve always kept you around because I want us to be more like soulmates than we are as friends,” he sobs. “I don’t know if I can love you how you love me.”

The liquid hurt in Yoongi’s bones solidifies but yours evaporates. It should hurt for you — you know that it should pain you the most now. You wait and you wait for the hiss before the sting but it doesn’t come. 

The weight lifts off from you instantly and you don’t even know why or how it happens. Whatever it was though, you let it carry your burdens for you. You only painfully nod, leaving Yoongi in your own house.

Yoongi can’t love you the way you love him — it’s the answer you’re looking for now, and it’s the same answer you swallowed down when you first professed your love for him years ago. 

.

.

.

Jimin didn’t expect you to report back to him this quickly and this late at night to say the very least, his sleepiness being pushed back when you stand at his door.

You slur the words but you’re not even drunk with alcohol. You’ve walked the long way to Jimin in order to take off your mind from your fight with Yoongi but there was just something n your system, one that made you even forget who you were fleeing.

There’s no Yoongi that comes into your mind during your walk, in fact, you were starting to think that the name didn’t even make sense to you because you couldn’t put a face to it. All you knew was where you’re going and who you were going to — only Jimin.

The more you walked and the more you came closer to Jimin, it was only him that filled your mind. In fact, you didn’t even know where you came from at this point, the details a blur in your head except for Jimin who’s standing in front of you.

“It worked. He bought it.”

It’s the last words that Jimin heard from you before you quite literally froze up, eyes closing solemnly despite standing upright until you open them again, the glaze behind it shining brighter the more you looked at him.

“Jimin, my love,” you drawl, squealing in delight as you launch yourself to him in a hug. “What a handsome soulmate I have.”

Jimin flushes at the realization, frozen in his position as he only puts his hand at the small of your back, patting you in comfort.

He needs some pen and paper, his notes, and the brainpower to calculate his next decision.

( ♡ )

Yoongi makes no move to drive himself home.

He doesn’t even have the willpower to leave from where you left him, his knees giving in to situate himself on the couch where he could sink further in his self-loathing. He has half the mind to recognize that you need the space, especially tonight, even if it means leaving the comfort of your own home because he (your demise) was there.

He doesn’t know anything, other than the fact that he’s repulsive and he wants nothing more than to go seek you but he doesn’t know where he should start; if you would even want to see him in the event that he finds you.

He considers calling your phone and at this point, he’d be contented even with the line ringing or you declining. Yoongi stays rooted in your house as a placeholder that he doesn’t even know you would be acclimated to having, stuck in the very space with no purpose at all.

He’s waiting for either you or a miracle and both revolve around him being able to see you for just one more time, then another, then again and again after so. He’s waiting for you and only you, and he didn’t even think you would come through the door in first place — much more with someone else.

The door beeps open and Yoongi launches himself from where he sat, his stance protective the moment his eyes land on you and Jimin.

The guy is just as shocked to see Yoongi of all people, lips parted open in surprise. Jimin’s just about to ask Yoongi what the hell he’s doing here in the first place but he’s cut off when you grumble against his neck, forgetting momentarily that you were clinging to him by the hip the whole time.

“What are you doing with Y/N?” Yoongi questions, taking large steps towards the both of you. There’s practically smoke coming off from the top of his head, his fists clenched at his sides,

“Taking her to her room, obviously,” Jimin scoffs, attempting to dodge past Yoongi with you in tow but to no avail, the latter’s arm outstretched.

“She’s drunk.”

“She’s not,” Jimin insists, punctuating his desperation.

He moves past Yoongi this time but he doesn’t get far at all, his arm being wrung tightly. His hand awaits on your back out of instinct, the whiplash putting the both of them on edge.

“Hey, buddy, Y/N’s drunk.”

Jimin groans, prying Yoongi’s hand off him just as easily as he clamped it. “She’s not drunk! Not in that way, atleast,” he mutters, putting you closer to his chest that sets off Yoongi further. “Just back off.”

“What do you mean not in that way?” Yoongi bursts, his vision darkening. He sets out a hand once again to get you away from Jimin, his hold on you much gentler. “Asshole. I said don’t-…”

“She’s drunk, but not actually drunk!” Jimin caves, pinching his nosebridge but not before swatting away Yoongi’s hand. The latter belatedly realizes that Jimin’s not even holding onto you to keep you steady, it was purely you clinging to him. Jimin can’t put it into proper, technical terms because he’s always known that Yoongi isn’t his equal ever since high school, dumbing it down the best as he could that it physically makes him shudder.

“She’s drunk… in love.”

“What?” Yoongi squints, his face contorted into confusion and disbelief at the same time. “Are you high?”

“I’m not high. I mean it!” he groans, throwing his head back. He looks at you while you slip in and out of consciousness, his thumb underneath your chin to get you to look up. “Y/N’s literally drunk in love.”

You being attached to Jimin doesn’t make sense. What Jimin’s saying now isn’t making sense. You immediately coming to your ex, Jimin, after your fight with him doesn’t make any sense. None of everything that’s happening is making sense and Yoongi’s head is bound to erupt any time, the migraine forming in his temples giving Jimin a smaller window to explain.

“My friends and I made this drug for our company’s upcoming breakthrough and Y/N volunteered to try it out.”

“You drugged her?!” Yoongi yells, eyes wide and furious.

“I think you have selective hearing,” Jimin grits, offended at the insinuation. “It’s this drug that’s supposed to temporarily desensitize you to your soulmate, okay? It worked because clearly your initials are gone from her.”

None of them should be making sense but it does. It scares Yoongi that this whole thing could be condensed down to an explanation because it only makes it much more real; much more vulnerable.

“So I’m still her soulmate?” he asks with a lump on his throat, his rage simmering down back into sadness.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Jimin snorts, running a hand through his hair. “It’d last for a week but we have yet to know all of the possible side effects,” he kisses his teeth, going through his internal checklist. “So far, we found out that although it desensitizes a person towards their soulmate,” he trails, perhaps a little bit amused if he was saying the truth. “They cling to the first person they see.”

How awful, Yoongi thinks.

“Y/N’s drunk in me,” Jimin announces with a grin. “She thinks I’m her soulmate.”

You’re waking up little by little and Jimin figures that your unconsciousness is only temporary and a one-time thing, considering that you’re back to trying to entangle all of your limbs with him in an eager embrace.

“Snap out of it, Y/N,” Yoongi says outloud to you, completely disregarding that Jimin’s still in the room.

He even makes a move to try and pull you away from him but to no avail, his interruption only making you raise an eyebrow at him. You look at Yoongi from afar despite being near and it’s haunting, the tilt in your head giving your sentiments away.

“Who are you?” you question genuinely, brows furrowed slightly. You turn back to the person you know most in this room at the moment, who’s none other than Jimin. “Who’s he, Jimin?”

“You don’t know this guy?” he questions, his mind computing rapidly.

“Not at all,” you confirm, not sparing a single glance back at Yoongi.

There’s a tense silence because all that Yoongi could hear now is the fuzz in his brain and the pulsing of his heart, his chest deflating in anguish.

“You promise me? You don’t know this guy at all?” Jimin confirms to you once more, assessing you deeply.

“I promise. I’d never lie to you,” you say with a frown, both of the guys knowing that from your tone alone, all you’re saying is the truth.

Jimin takes it down quickly, his tone more somber and less hostile than before.

“That’s another side effect then. Not only can it desensitize, but it also makes you forget about your soulmate completely.”

The two of them are talking as if you’re not in the room with them but it doesn’t make a difference otherwise because you’re only focused on Jimin, your eyes all endeared just by the silhouette of him alone.

Yoongi can’t will his mind to focus on just one thing, his frustration coming off as a strangled yelp.

“You’re shitting me! Make an antidote or something!”

“We still have to wait out the whole week.”

“It’s like you’re just asking me to slap you!” he grits, hand outstretched already yet retreating when Jimin mocks him in return, pointing at you whose head is turned from Yoongi. Of course, you think Yoongi’s your soulmate — of course you’d shower him with affection.

“Can you guys be any louder? I wanna sleep. Please take me to bed,” your attention’s only turned to Jimin, the guy nodding earnestly.

He’s about to coax you into your room when a voice cuts into the air, an eager tap being placed on your shoulder.

“I’m Yoongi.”

You look back at the guy who introduced himself, a smile on his face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes but looks like he’s just begging to be given a sliver of attention.

You don’t mind him though.

“Hi, Yoongi,” you curtly respond, turning your back on him. “Take me to bed, Jimin.”

( ♡ )

Your vocabulary’s not affected by Jimin’s experiment at all, except for the fact that the word you utter most is his name and barely Yoongi’s.

He neither came home nor went to sleep, his mind not being granted even a single second of rest because all he can think about how this is only a mere, flawed glimpse of what you would be like if he wasn’t your soulmate anymore and it’s terrifying. It puts goosebumps onto his skin and instills the fear of fate on him, obvious by the way he’s only been functioning long enough for the past hours for the sake of reliving the same alternate reality again and again.

You come out of your room and there’s still that same dazed look on your face, eyes less crazed but more yearning. Yoongi awaits any reaction from you that would lead him to think everything that’s happened in the last 24 hours is only a figment of his imagination.

It’s early in the morning but the sorrow from the evening already hits you through a frown, your eyes darting everywhere.

“Where’s Jimin?” you ask, shaking your head. “Why am I still here?”

“You live here,” Yoongi answers, keeping his hands to himself. He begrudgingly makes the internal note to relay your momentary forgetting to Jimin later even if talking to him is the last thing he’ll ever want to do.

You gasp then, eagerly nodding your head because that one piece of information definitely traces back to you. “Oh, right,” you nod, your lip curling once again. “Why are you here?”

Yoongi’s not sure how he should answer that.

He’s unsure if he should answer that he’s here and stayed the night because he was worried sick about you after your fight, almost driven to passing out in overwhelm especially when Jimin brought you home.

He doesn’t know if he should say that in your home because it’s only rational since you’re soulmates, and that he dislikes being alone, and that being with you calms him down an infinite amount; if he could just skim over the fact that you barely have any recollection of him and will continue to do so for the next week.

Yoongi can’t determine to whether or not he should tell you that he wants to spend every second with you because should be the precursor for you to believe that you don’t want him anymore, he’s left with a memory of you, no matter how painful.

“Because I live here too,” he says a half-truth, trailing off in remembrance of you nagging him to go back to his house.

“We live together?” you question once again, your face contorted in confusion. “Why?”

You don’t even mean malice with it and Yoongi knows that exactly, the bit of realization even more painful because he knew that you would question him with snark and tears otherwise. In your foggy, Jimin-centric brain, it doesn’t make sense why you and Yoongi practically live together.

Because we’re soulmates, he wants to answer.

It’s the same question he asks himself because he doesn’t know how you let him either — when in reality, he already knows why and it’s because you love him. The even bigger question is if he was even deserving of you.

“Because we wanted to,” Yoongi leaves it at that, clearing his throat as he pushes a plate towards you that he put together on short notice. “Here’s breakfast. This is your favorite.”

You don’t even move to thank him curtly, head tilting in curiosity. You have all the questions yet he doesn’t know if he has all the answers, his heart hurting whichever way he addresses you.

“But why do we want to live with each other?” 

“Because we care for each other.” (Read: because we’re soulmates and because we’ve been friends and soulmates our whole lives and I don’t ever see us parting.)

You nod at Yoongi’s brief answer, stuck in staring off to space for a couple of seconds before you swallow down everything.

“Oh,” you hum somewhat satisfied. “You know where Jimin is?” you open a new line of questioning this time, tone picking up more. “Do we live with him or is it just the two of us?”

Jimin’s testing out his method of withdrawing himself this time, living out the remainder of the week by not making any contact with you and assigning Yoongi to report back to him. He’s not even meant to say everything to you in technical terms, knowing that he has to make up lies the whole week regarding Jimin’s whereabouts.

It’s only and should be a simple, trivial question regarding your living situation but Yoongi can’t help the hiccup that builds in his chest, heart heavy with nothing he can do about.

“Just the two of us,” Yoongi mutters, tracing your initials on his finger discreetly. It was one of the things you did when you felt like confessing to him silently, eyes not even meeting each other’s for you to tell him that you love him. He’s desperate to have you do it to him again — pathetically and helplessly pleading for you to come back to him again. “Always just the two of us.”

.

.

.

Yoongi finds it admirable that you grow warmer to him by the night, nevermind that you’re not doing it for familiarity but rather to get closer to Jimin through him.

Not once does he leave your side whenever you stroll back out to thr living room, plopping onto the couch to eat dinner made by him to which you aren’t weirded about. You no longer inquired him why he’s here, just accepting his presence because the back of your mind tells you that you’re used to him in the first place.

“I miss Jimin,” he hears you sigh for the umpteenth time, an automatic rigid smile painted on his face. He doesn’t want to hear about him at all actually, however he’d do anything just to get you to keep talking in the event that it’s the last he’ll hear from you.

“You don’t say,” he hums, tuning out his name as he tries to pretend that it’s his instead.

You can’t distinguish the far relaxed nature to Yoongi’s intonations because after all, you barely remember any of him and his quirks for you to compare his attitude to. For all you know, he’s just a calm and calculating person that you know in your life, one whose eyes just can’t stop straying to his hands.

Yoongi doesn’t want to feel like he’s mourning but the feeling in his chest is akin to it anyway, something resembling repentance rising out of it from nowhere when you let your curiosity get the best of you.

You’re unfathomably upset because Jimin’s nowhere to be found. One second you’re sighing and at the other you become molten aluminum at thrashing just to see him.

It’s painful to see you like this and he tries his best to gather you to his arms to calm you down, shushing you to the best of his abilities that annoy you even further.

“I don’t want you! I want Jimin!”

“I’m the only one you have,” he says just as urgently, releasing you from his hold but you melt to him anyway, in a fit of tears with your hands covering your face.

It hurts to see you yearn for another person who isn’t him (read: your soulmate) and it hurts more to even grasp that this could’ve been your vignette the whole time that he’s been working, perhaps even the whole time that you’ve been pining after him.

“But I don’t wanna have you,” you enunciate with a sob that wracks your body yet destroy Yoongi’s core, his intake of breath being shallower the more that you refuse him.

“Can you find him for me please? Did I do anything wrong? Maybe he’ll respond to your texts.”

“You’ve never done anything wrong,” he comes to his sense just to scold you, eyes narrowing of why you could’ve conjured up such a thing.

“But I must’ve done something,” you whine. “Jimin doesn’t love me.”

“It’s impossible not to love you,” Yoongi interjects faster than the impulsive thought had formed in your brain, his eyes stern and promising. “Your soulmate must be the luckiest bastard in the world.”

You hear him once again but you can’t understand him, the words meaning nothing to you because you aren’t even sure of the level of relation you had with him before your memory became hazy.

“But my soulmate doesn’t even love me back!” 

You have him there, ironic that you’re going through the same situation twice. You’ve went through it with Yoongi for years genuinely, while you’ve been going through it with Jimin for five days because of an experiment.

“He loves you,” he says it in confidence and assurance, his hands unknowingly making their way to grip your shoulders for you to look at him when he’s speaking the truth. “He’s a conceited asshole and he’s really flawed, but he’s trying his best to love you more than you deserve,” his voice cracks briefly, clearing his throat. “Must be hard to swallow down the fact that the universe is too generous to him because he has you for a soulmate. He must feel like he’s the scum of the earth because he has the greatest, most lovable person in the world loving him, and he used to take it for granted.”

It’s warm. Too warm, too personal, and too familiar — and in your head, Jimin is the only person in your head who fills all three boxes.

“Jimin feels like that?”

“Hmm,” Yoongi agrees, lying easily. “He also hopes that it’s not too late.”

In a moment’s notice, he furthers the distance between the two of you as if the oddly-spurred passionate conversation the two of you had never happened.

Your memory’s not acting up when you remember that you came out to join Yoongi to talk about Jimin, but now, you wouldn’t believe yourself that it’s actually the reason you came out.

This time it’s you who reaches out for Yoongi, clearing your throat.

“Who’s that?” you point to his ring finger, eyes peeking at the initials. It’s just like yours, the irony of it making you giggle. “That’s not me, isn’t it?” 

“And if it was?” Yoongi asks, eyes still gentle but his voice much too mellow to the point that you’d think he isn’t breathing.

“I wouldn’t believe you,” you answer, carelessly shrugging.

Yoongi purses his lips and he knows he should stop prodding now because the last time he did, it ended with him driving you right into Jimin’s arms to experiment him out of your life. He can’t hold his tongue now, even when he knows he’s bound to suffer from himself anyway.

“Why not?”

“Because if that’s me, then I should be in love with you right now and not Jimin,” you trail, your tone reeking obviousness. It’s clear enough for you, atleast, but Yoongi takes nothing but murkiness from it.

“Hmm,” he hums, pointing to your hand. “Why do you love Jimin if his initials aren’t on your finger then?”

“You got me there,” you snort, the words unwilling to roll off easily from your mouth. In fact, nothing forms in your mind anyway, just a mere vision that you can discern yet not verbalize. “I don’t know. I can’t explain it. I just love him.”

It’s a confession that sets you apart from the soulmate that Yoongi knows, all before you had been desperate enough to desensitize yourself to his very existence.

“You can’t explain love?” he asks gently, eyes lowering down in thought.

“Can anybody?” you counter resignedly, the concept of just settling for the fact that there’s things that are unexplainable being enough for you.

Yoongi feels the most alive that he’s felt since the past day, the smile on his face being so nostalgic and sentimental to you for some reason that it momentarily makes you dizzy.

“My soulmate can. She’d profess her love for me every chance she gets. Would do it in all the ways she could find.”

You can explain love. You’re talkative and you always have the right words to say. You have the stubbornness in you that when put to its fullest power, puts his ego to shame. You have the convincing power of a company in you, one that has nothing to its name and only its very being to prove with.

You can put love into words and it’s daunting how you can condense everything you’ve ever felt for Yoongi into the many confessions you give him. In your loud drunken spiels all the way to your silent telepathic stints — you’re the embodiment of love. You can explain love and it makes sense because you would know your own.

“She sounds like a handful,” you murmur, brows furrowed to how Yoongi describes someone who’s clearly not on the same wavelength as he is with lovesick dedication in his face.

“She’s my handful though.”

“Does she come by here often then?” your brows raise, your headache throbbing the more that Yoongi speaks to you.

“You already know her,” Yoongi smiles tightly, looking right through you. He looks at you like he’s a dog that looks for its owner, ready to be at your beck and call. “I just don’t know if you can’t recognize her.”

“Show me a picture! Maybe it’ll jog my memory,” you offer enthusiastically, already knowing that you’re missing bits here and there but maybe seeing Yoongi’s soulmate would push you to remember faster.

“Maybe another time.”

Yoongi’s turned solemn, breathing shallowly as if he doesn’t want you to have a clue that you’re even seeing him right now.

“It’s just a picture! You looked like you were gonna cry when you were talking about her,” you pout, giving in eventually. “Aw, come on! You’re not sharing her?” 

“No,” he answers almost immediately, masking his certainty with an uneasy chuckle. “I hope not.” 

( ♡ )

You feel fuzzy.

Fuzzy in the sense that you remember clearly the two days you’ve lived but operated with your mind from afar; every interaction and every word crystal clear.

Fuzzy in the sense that it’s overwhelming, the good kind this time, but still overwhelming to the point that you have to take a breather outside of your apartment that feels suffocating to be in.

You’re five days ahead of schedule, the effect of the pill that was supposed to desensitize you to Yoongi and have other as drastic side effects being cut early.

It’s only relief that fills you when you walk out and hear Yoongi’s light snores in your guest bedroom instead of the living room, alleviating your momentary guilt at leaving this time �� but only to give yourself the space to think, of course.

It’s only solace that envelopes you when you screw your eyes shut and look to your ring finger while you hold your breath, the consolation of seeing Yoongi’s initials still on there satiating you.

You’re not in your room and not even in the apartment at all. You’re not at the hallway and not even anywhere in your entire apartment complex. You’re not at the convenience store nearby where you typically go on walks just to take your mind off things and buy yourself snacks. He’s already checked and checked — Yoongi can’t find you anywhere.

He fears the worst. The absolute, most heartbreaking worst. He can’t even fathom where he got the strength to dial your number on his phone because he thought he would be faced with nothing, the proof that you’ve cut all ties with him by disconnecting completely.

Yoongi doesn’t know what possesses him when you answer easily on the second ring, your voice lighthearted.

“You’re wrong,” you hum. “Your apartment’s easy to break into just like mine.”

“Where are you?” Yoongi asks first amongst the other hundred questions he’s been dying to do so, the relief that fills him unable to be topped. You’ve just said your location but he still asks, hesitant that this may just be some cruel joke.

You stay quiet at your side of the line, looking around his place with a fondness you can’t even begin to start tackling.

“I’m at home.”

There’s nothing that comes to your mind besides the fact that it actually looks like your home. It resembles your home when you only had a mattress on the floor and no bedframe when you moved in, when you started sticking up pictures with tape that you didn’t know would ruin the walls, and when you finally found your sense of the style and had the finances and time to do it — it resembles your home all at the same time.

There’s several pictures of you and Yoongi together that line up the walls and the shelves, notes written behind them in your handwriting that you didn’t think he would keep.

Your parcels that he received with your name on it are all gathered near the doorway, the flyers of your favorite restaurants hung up by the fridge. Yoongi’s house looks more like your home and it almost brings you to tears.

He never noticed it, in fact. Hasn’t noticed the way that his definition of his home has shifted to your taste and how his definition of love turned into you. It had been gradually building through the years that Yoongi hasn’t stopped to figure that your home has become his, all to the point that he’s been living in it the whole time.

“I’m waiting,” you mutter as soon as you open the door to Yoongi who had ran all the way here in a frenzy, chest heaving up and down. “I’m waiting for you to make it up to me.”

“I’ll do that and more,” Yoongi nods in earnest and immediately leaps in to kiss you, finally feeling that you’ve given him the opportunity to breathe. 

He kisses you so endearingly that you’re surprised you haven’t done it before with him because the way he does so feels like second nature. He breathes you in until he feels like he can exhale, catching his breath as he settles his head to the crook of your neck.

“I was waiting for that too,” you snort, speaking at the same time as him.

“What I said that night-…”

“I remember,” you interrupt. “You’re not the scum of the earth, Yoongi, and I’m not the greatest person in the world either.”

“Whatever makes you sleep at night,” he rolls his eyes even if he knows a fool would see that you aren’t anything short of great. “I’m sorry for making you wait,” he apologizes, eyes flickering to yours. “But you don’t have to wait around for me anymore, okay?”

It’s a great mound of consolation that he’d be willing to trek over and over again if it means making up for everything he’s done.

“I can’t love you the way that you love me because nobody can compare to you,” he whispers, crossing his heart in promise. “But believe me, please, I’ll make up for all of the lost time and I’ll love you the best that I could.”

It’s a progress, a working one at that, wherein you’d meet Yoongi in the middle of.

“I can’t confess my love for you every two weeks-…”

“Oh shut up,” you roll your eyes, playfully attempting to break off his hug to which he doesn’t let you.

“Because that’s too spread out. I’ll do it everyday,” Yoongi finishes, the grin on his face pleasantly annoying.

“You’re the worst,” you weakly offer, letting yourself into the moment of vulnerability by abandoning your defenses.

“You’re sounding like me,” he laughs, pressing just one more kiss to your forehead.

You’re the universe’s reward to Yoongi for everything he’s ever done, the resounding desire in his whole being to just be the best he could ever be for you reverberating throughout his home and yours.

“You don’t have to ask me to love you anymore,” he says gently, eyes holding up the entirety of a truth he can’t deny. “I’d give you the sun even if you didn’t ask me to.”

[swiftsrqmantic]

Hi! Outer Banks request here:

Could you please write a JJ Maybank smut where the reader is John B's ex? One day JJ is at a party without the pogues and he's a little bored because there nothing really interesting going on, so he goes to the only familiar face he sees: the reader.

and it's their first time seeing each other after a looong time, and idk maybe the reader has like more confidence than before so they start to drink together (just a bit not enough to get drunk) and they ended up having like giggly sex.

make-outs & mai tai’s — j.m.

summary : you, john b’s ex, happen to run into jj maybank- john b’s best friend. will a couple of mai tai’s cause you to explore your deepest and dirtiest fantasies, or will you remember that “bro-code” does exist? 18+, smut,

pairing : jj maybank x fem!kook!reader

a/n : first of all, i’m horrible at writing summaries 😭 but second and most importantly, thank you so so much for being my first request!!! and my first story!!! i can’t wait to write so much more but for now, i hope you all enjoy this story!!! reblogs are greatly appreciated :) !!

you were a kook. he was a pogue. you lived on different sides of the island, and were never supposed to be seen with one another. that was until he showed up at your job for the third time asking for your phone number.

if you were to ask anyone, they would say you and john booker routledge were absolutely inseparable from that point on. the two of you were seen around the island almost every day; going on dates, hanging out at the beach, and all that fun stuff.

that was until john b meet sarah cameron, the kook princess. they began to hang out every day, which used to be a plot to get information about the royal merchant, until they shared a passionate kiss on the ferry dock.

although you two ended on good terms, you rarely spoke, which means you didn’t speak to any of the other pogues either; at least not until tonight, where you were going to attend the annual bonfire. you sat at your vanity applying your lip gloss when you got a text from your friend.

savannah: be there in ten!

you grabbed your purse and made your way to the white jeep pulling up to your doorstep.

“ready to get shit-faced tonight?”, savannah asked rolling down the passenger side window while you rolled your eyes and opened the door. “no one is getting shit-faced tonight, especially not you”, you replied buckling your seatbelt as she stepped on the gas.

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

savannah pulled up to the lot as you put your phone in your purse and squinted at the bright fire that burned ahead. “ok so before we get out, some of the girls said that john b was gonna be here”, she said unbuckling her seatbelt and turning towards you.

“okay, whatever i guess”, you said chuckling and pulling your compact out of your bag to check your makeup one final time.

“so you’re not bothered by that? because if you want to leave then we can totally leave, your call.”

“we’re not enemies, savannah. we ended things on good terms, remember?’

“okay then, let’s get our party on!”

you stepped out of the car, scoping the scene, before making your way over to your other friend, emery, by the cooler. she greeted you with a warm hug and a canned mai tai while the three of you got lost in conversation.

meanwhile, on the other side of the fire, the pogues were drinking beer out of plastic cups, looking around at their rather drunk peers.

“ok, i’m gonna be honest and just say that this is seriously lame”, jj maybank announced to the crew and took the last swig of beer out of his cup. “you didn’t have to come you know”, an annoyed kiara replied. “but he is right jb, this is pretty lousy”.

“look, sarah’s here and there’s plenty of beer to last a couple more hours, so why don’t we at least try and have a good time”, john b replied as he threw his arm around kie. jj rolled his eyes and looked towards the cooler, when he saw you holding a can, laughing and talking to some other kooks. he smirked and made his way towards you as he saw your friends running off with topper.

“care for another mai tai, m’lady”, jj asked as you turned around, shocked at the sight in front of you.

“well, well, well”, you smiled, letting a tiny laugh escape from your lips. “if it isn’t jj maybank.”

“in the flesh”, he smiled, extending his arm out to hand you another can. “i noticed you were standing alone; thought i might give you some company”.

“well please accompany me somewhere more quiet”, you said laughing and taking a sip from your new can. jj smirked and said “come on, i have somewhere we can go”.

you took his hand as you guys walked down the lot towards the beach. “so, what brings you to this party”, you asked jj. “because if i’m being totally honest, i did not expect you to be here”.

“why not?”

“i don’t know, i just…i guess i thought that things like these weren’t really your scene.”

“they’re not.”

“then why’d you stick around?” you took another sip.

“i was going to leave” he paused, “but then i saw you.” you glanced over at him and smiled lightly while taking another sip.

“so, how’ve you been? it’s been a while y’know?”

“good, why’d you ask?”

“i don’t know, i’ve just been thinking about you lately.”

“aww, i’ve been on your mind, cupcake?”

you smiled and took another sip of your mai tai. “maybe just a little.”

jj laughed to himself as your feet hit the sand. “just a bit further”. you eventually found a nice spot on the sand and wobbly took a seat.

“woah there, pretty girl, don’t fall now.” you laughed, sipping your mai tai once more and looked him in his eyes. “why do you keep giving me all these nicknames?”, you ask, slurring your words and taking the last sip of your drink.

“do you want me to stop?”

“you could do anything you wanted to me and i would never ask you to stop,” you said with a chuckle as you moved a little closer to him.

“well someone’s feeling a little confident tonight, aren’t you?”

“oh c’mon j, somewhere deep down, i know you know i’ve always had a little thing for you.” and whether it was the mai tais or not, you know what they say: drunk words are sober thoughts. and with that being said, jj swiftly put his hand to your cheek, and pushed your hair behind your ear.

“did you really mean that?,” he caressed your cheek as you leaned in closer to him. “when you said i could do anything i wanted, and you would never ask me to stop?”.

“well we’re here now, aren’t we?”

jj stared at you, and as he opened his mouth to say something, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. while he was surprised, he moved both of his hands to your hips and kissed you deeper. both of you continued to deepen the kiss as jj took the reigns and laid you down on the sand.

“wait, wait, wait,” you said as jj kept kissing your neck. “what if john b finds out?” jj raised his head and thought for a second, that swift thought followed by: “well that’s not really his problem now, is it?”

“i guess not, pretty boy,” you pulled him down to you buy his collar as you continued kissing each other, more hunger and passion followed by each kiss. you unbuttoned his shirt while he started taking off your shirt. “lift your hips for me, baby,” jj asked, unbuttoning your shorts to follow. if you weren’t already drooling at sight of him, you were positive you were now. you tried to hold back your moans as he swiftly pulled your shorts and panties down your legs, but with how close the two of you were, jj was sure to pick up on every last sound you made.

“oh no, cupcake, don’t hold back now. i want to hear all your pretty sounds,” he kissed a trail down your body as he buried his head in between your thighs. you moaned and tugged his hair as he kissed your heat and licked up and down your sweet spot. your body began to convulse as you felt yourself reaching your release.

“j- fuck, i’m almost there,” you moaned out, not caring about your volume as your back arched in immense pleasure. “let go for me, sweet thing.” your breath hitched as you sucked in a sharp breath, allowing your eyes to roll back in pleasure, finally reaching your climax. you steadied your breathing while jj kissed his way back up to your mouth.

“that was…amazing,” you spoke, regaining your breath. “oh, we’re not done yet, baby girl,” jj replied with a shit-eating grin. “trust me,” you said, reaching down to unbuckle his belt, “i know.” jj let out a small chuckle as he released himself from his boxers, smirking at your reaction to his length. “mmph, i want you so bad,” you moaned out as you kissed him, a string of saliva attached to your lips as you broke free from each other.

“you sure about this, cupcake?,” jj asked, caressing your cheek. you wrapped your arms around his shoulder and kissed him once more. “i’m absolutely positive, j. i need you.” without a second thought, jj slid himself inside you, both of you moaning at the sensational feeling you just shared.

“geez princess, you feel so good,” jj moaned on your neck, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. you moaned as you gripped on to his shoulders, tapping twice to signal faster pace. as jj sped up, you could feel yourself tighten around him as he twitched inside of you.

“j, i’m close,” you whimpered as you felt him graze your g-spot, eyes rolling back at the glorious feeling.

“i know baby, me too, comin’ up right behind you,” jj replied, slurring his words. he sped up a bit more, making him more and more irresistible to you. your nails scratched down his back as you tried to utter out the words “i’m coming”, but instead were muffled by your pleasurous moans. jj pushed deeper inside you, following close behind. you two shared a breathy kiss while jj started to kiss down your neck, helping you get cleaned up. once the two of you regained composure, you sat up and watched the waves.

“that was… truly something,” you said sighing. jj looked over at you and chuckled, saying “trust me, i know.” you and jj watched the waves for a second before you both looked over to see the bonfire spot emptying.

“looks like everyone’s heading out,” you mentioned, while checking your phone to see two text messages from savannah. “shit, my friends are about to leave, i should probably go”.

“me too, me and the gang have an early surf sesh tomorrow,” jj mentioned while he stood up, extending his hand for you to grab as he pulled you off the sand. you two held hands and walked towards the bonfire, but you stopped him before you got to close to the crowd.

“hey thank you for tonight, i had a lot of fun,” you said swinging your interlocked hands back and forth as jj spotted his friends near the parking lot. you looked down as your feet as you said “it was nice getting to see you again. i probably won’t for a while.” jj laughed as he let go of your hand and grabbed your waist tightly, pulling you towards him. you choked on a breath as you abruptly placed your hands on his shoulders for support, looking deep into his eyes as he caressed your cheek. “you’re a very funny girl, you know that?”, jj questioned as your eyebrows tilted in confusion.

“you think after tonight i’m just gonna let you run off with some other guy?” you tried to tell him off but stuttered as he forced deeper eye contact between you two. “you’re mine now, cupcake. and if i have to see you every single day to remind you, best believe you’ll be seeing a lot of me.” you smirked as jj pulled you in for the last kiss of the night. “you have a good night,” he winked as he walked off towards his friends. you exhaled as you spun on your heels, walking to go find your friends.

little did you know that tonight would be the night you became jj’s girl. forever.

[seospicybin]

THAT SONG.

PART I

Han x reader. (s,f,a)

A chapter of On Tour.

Synopsis: Han forms a rock band with a help from you, his muse who is so cynical of love. (17,4k words)

Author's note: This is for my On Tour enthusiasts. Hope you like it x

Click here for That Song playlist.

It starts to annoy him how the vocalist keep messing up the chords. Instead of focus on playing his guitar and sing the lyrics right, he's busy making eyes with the girls standing in the front.

Han recognized one of them is you, he knows you because he shares a class with you and your writing recently won the university literary contest. But why would a beautiful and smart girl like you making the eyes with such a lousy, ego bigger than his actual skill guy?

Sure, the vocalist has the looks but he wouldn't look that good if he's playing the music himself. He missed the chords and been singing off key on the last two songs, no one noticed but Han.

Han doesn't even know why he agreed to help to fill the bass tonight but at least he'll get free beers tonight as an exchange. He's ordering his second bottle even though his first one is halfway finished. He turns to the side and finds you making your way toward him.

Han knows that it's good to be true if you're coming for him but he turns to the other side finding the incompetent vocalist gesturing you to come up to him. It's so rare for him to intervene with someone's business but Han really needs to stop you from making the wrong choices.

Next thing he knows, he outstretched his hand to stop you from going to the lousy guy, "Wait a minute!"

Your forehead wrinkles in confusion and he completely understands why.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he says with a thin smile and quick comes up with an explanation, "it's obvious that he likes to sleep with a lot of girls and you're probably going to wake up with a terrible rash."

You tilt your head and thinly smile at him, "Thanks for the tip."

Han quietly let out a breath of relief, "well, you're a nice girl. You don't want to be with that kind of guy."

You purse your lips then takes a sip, "that's where you're wrong. I'm not a nice girl."

You take a another sip of beer before talking again, "and you're cockblocking your friend right now," you tell him, pointing to the talentless vocalist at the end of the bar counter.

"Friend?" Han asks, offended that you think he's friends with that rockstar wannabe.

"He's not my friend. He's a dick actually and I'm just filling for my friend," he shortly explains and now that he gets rid of Bon Jovi look alike, he can smile again.

You snicker and put your bottled beer down, "You're cute," you tell him.

That gets him flustered, no girl ever told him cute before.

"But you reek of romance and good intentions," you continue.

That gets him baffled because isn't that what girls are looking for?

"As opposed to what..." he leers over to the lousy vocalist.

"He's handsome and emotionally unavailable," you fill his blanks and start walking away from him.

Han can't believe he's lost to the lousy vocalist. As his final effort, he grabs you by your elbow to stop you from going.

"Look, I'm not looking for a nice guy. I don't do boyfriends, I don't date," you bluntly tell him.

"All I hear is don't, don't and... don't," he says in a baffling tone.

"Don't waste my time," you sharply add.

Han is aware that he's overstepping and slowly lets go of you, you're an adult anyway, you can do whatever you want and that includes doing things he doesn't want you to do.

"See you in class then," he says as he returns to his beer.

You turn around on your feet, "we share a class?"

"Creative writing," he replies without looking at you.

"What's your name again?" You ask, even though you haven't asked before.

He looks at you and answers, "Han."

You take that information with a nod then clink your bottle with him, "see you in class, Han!"

Then off you go, doing the things he doesn't want you to do and making it clear to him that a guy like him doesn't stand a chance with a girl like you. - It's inevitable seeing you in campus, especially in the class you share together.

Since you knew his name, you'd wave your hand at the sight of him but it's probably some sort of joke to you to remind him how he flirted with you that night and you rejected him right away.

Han is relentless to change your mind because it annoys him so much that you would rather flirt with someone who doesn't even have an ounce of your worth.

A few weeks later at the same bar, he approaches you after he sees you send a guy away from disagreeing with you on an argument.

"Guess you scare him off," he comments as he takes the seat of the expelled guy.

You scoff in disbelief at him then sips your beer.

"Do you want to get out of here?" He offers, shamelessly taking another shot with you.

You laugh and wipe your upper lip with your thumb, "Didn't I made it pretty clear that I have no interests on going out with you?"

Han calmly looks at you and smiles, "you and I are going to be friends," he casually remarks.

"But I don't want to be friends with you," you shortly reply, not hesitating to reject him again.

Well, Han can only take two rejection in a span of two months, he'll try again a few weeks... or maybe this is a sign for him to give up and raise the white flag. He brings his beer with him and finds somewhere else where he can quietly drinks his beer. He stops caring about your presence the more intoxicated he gets.

To his short luck, Han gets lightheaded and since he's coming to the bar alone with no friend who can assist him home, he stops drinking. He exits the bar and realizes how late it is from how crowded that he has to go through sea of people to find the door.

To sober up a little, he stands outside with the brick wall supporting him, his head is clouded with smoke coming from a group of people smoking next to him. He pulls out his phone to order a taxi when he hears your voice. His head snaps to the door of bar and sees you drunkenly walking to the side of the road, hailing your hand for a taxi.

He's about to help you getting one when a man gets to you first, holding you from behind and opens the taxi door for you.

"I want to go home," you slur your words at him.

He forces you to get inside the taxi, "we're going home, baby."

You refuse to get in and jump out of the taxi, "not with you," you tell him.

"My apartment is close so you're coming with me," he insists, pushing you back into the backseat of the taxi.

You push him away when he's about to get in after you, "No, I don't want to go home with you!"

It starts to cause a scene outside the bar and it doesn't take a genius to know that this guy is going to take advantage of you.

Han shoves his phone into the back pocket of his jeans and comes to take you away from him.

"She said she doesn't want to go with you," Han tells him right at his face, holding you steady with his hands on your shoulders.

"Who the fuck are you?" The man curses at him.

"I'm her friend!" He shortly replies despite he knows he got rejected to be your friend a few hours ago.

The man grabs you back from him and forces you to enter the taxi, "stay the fuck out of my business!"

Han shoves him back and he pulls you along with him as he's staggering to the back, sending you stumbling down the pavement.

"Ouch!" You wince in pain.

Han hurriedly helps you getting up and helps you get into the taxi.

"Stay away from you, you fucking prick!" Han warns him before getting into the taxi.

You whine in pain next to him, holding your scraped knee with your hand and lolling your head to the side, eventually resting your head on his shoulder.

"Where do you live?" Han asks, feeling bad if he has to grope you around to find for your ID or phone.

"I don't want to go home," you mumble to him.

You nuzzle your head into his neck and mumble again, "let come home with you."

Han has no other option but to take you to his messy apartment. Thankfully, you're too intoxicated to notice the piling dirty laundry or the pizza box he hasn't thrown out since last night. You run to the bathroom the second he unlocked the door and he uses the opportunity to tidy up his place, or more like, hiding the mess out of the plain sight.

He quickly grabs a clean towel from the dryer then knock on the bathroom door to give it to you. He hears the flushing sound then you open the door not long after.

"A clean towel," he offers.

You take it from him through the crack of the door and follow him outside.

"Can I borrow your clothes?" You suddenly ask.

It's like you speak a different language that he takes a moment for him to process such simple words, "my clothes?"

You meekly show him your clothes damp with drops of water, "I can't sleep in this."

"Clothes," he says with a blank expression and it takes him another moment to finally get to his closet, finding any proper clothes for you to wear.

He picks the most decent piece of clothing he has and he remembers his parents gifted him a pajama set, it's the perfect time to put it to use.

"Here," he accidentally startles you as you scan his records collection.

You take the folded clothes from him and not hesitate to take your clothes off on the spot. Han immediately turns his back at you to give you privacy even though he can clearly see you changing clothes from the reflection of the TV screen.

"Can I have a glass of water?" You ask.

"Sure," he dashes to the kitchenette and pours a glass of water which reminds him to grab the first-aid kit from the drawer.

"Thank you," you mutter as you take the glass of water from him.

"Can you please sit down?" He kindly asks.

The options are the bed or the worn-out couch filled with his books. You walk over to the bed and sits at the end of it. He squats down on the floor and looks up at you, "Do you mind if I take a look at your knee?"

You shake your head while holding the glass of water with both hands on your lap. He rolls up the obviously a size too big pajama pants and takes a closer look at your scraped knee. It doesn't look bad once he cleaned.

It's probably the alcohol that hasn't fully left your systems yet that makes you numb to the stings of alcohol pads make contact with your wounded knee. Next, Han dabs antibiotic ointment on the wound with a cotton bud and apply a bandage to finish.

"Thank you," you mutter again.

Wow! It's the first time he heard so many thank you in one night and it's coming from the person he didn't expect to hear it from.

"You can rest now," he says, gesturing you to sleep on the bed.

"And where are you going to sleep?" You ask.

"I can sleep..." his eyes drift to the messy couch and silently sigh, "I can sleep anywhere."

"Please, share the bed with me," you plead with eyes that shine for him as he stands towering you.

"Okay," he agrees but he promised himself to leave the bed once you're asleep.

The night is getting late and he can't lie that he needs to lie down after an eventful night. He is late to claim his side of the bed as you already lie there, getting yourself under the cover.

"What are you listening to?" You ask, looking at the record player on the bedside table.

Han puts it there because he likes to lay on the bed and stares at the ceiling while listening to music. Unfortunately, he happens to forget what record he was playing the last time. He peers over to your side of the bed, one glance at the record and he knows what it is.

"Uhm... Sonic Youth," he answers.

You turn the record player on and slowly put the needle on it, music starts to fill the space with riffs of one of his favorite songs.

"Spinning dreams with angel wings. Torn blue jeans and a foolish grin," Kim Gordon opens the song with her sleepy, crooning voice.

You get comfortable on the bed and turn to the side, seeing him still standing at the side of the bed.

"Come, lay down with me," you say, patting the space next to you.

It's so stupid of him that he forgot to take off his jacket, he gets ride of it before climbing onto the bed and awkwardly slouches down the bed.

He knows you're looking at him as Kim Gordon repeatedly singing, "Star power, star power, star power..."

You take a deep breathe and put a hand under your head, "Maybe I really should stop dating handsome, emotionally unavailable men," you draw conclusions out of nowhere.

Han only nods in agreement even though he can't focus knowing that he's under the same cover with you.

"Maybe we should go on a date," you come with another shocking statement.

This time, he doesn't nod even though he wanted to.

You softly sigh again and gets up from the bed to lean close to his side, "I think you'll be good to me."

He dares himself to look at you and catches you softly smiling at him. Your eyes locked in a gaze that feels more intimate than a kiss.

You slightly tilt your head to the side then press a gentle kiss on his cheek, "Goodnight!"

You settle back on the bed and close your eyes with a smile that slowly fades from your face as you slowly drift to sleep.

Han reaches for his heating cheek and touches the searing kiss you left on it, foolishly holding the back of his hand to it like it would help him reeling from the kiss. However, he can replay the moment in his head and close his eyes to make it vivid.

The song that is still playing becomes distant but he can faintly hears Kim Gordon softly sings, "Close my eyes and think of you. Everything turns black to blue." - It's like someone has just pulled him out of the water, Han wakes up from his sleep gasping for air. He expects to see it's still night and you're still on the bed sleeping next to him. Panic, he gets up at once and looks around his studio apartment with sunlight filling and brightens the place.

"Morning," you greet from the couch with a bowl on one hand.

The mess of your hair looking like a halo on the top of your head and you warmly smile as your eyes locked in a gaze with him, emitting the same warmth of the morning sun at him.

"I hope you don't mind I'm eating your cereal," you say.

Disoriented, he scratches the back of his head and unsure what to do first because he's usually will fall back to sleep, especially when he has no morning class like today.

"I–I'll just..." he barely finishes his sentence and breaks into a run to the bathroom.

Last night, he made a plan to impress you. He planned on getting up early so he can buy some nice breakfast to eat together with you. He plans on having some fresh baked goods and hot coffee with you, not his cereal and milk from his empty fridge.

"Oh, why did I fall asleep?" He asks himself and reaches for his toothbrush to, at least, make himself look presentable in front of you.

He changes into a clean t-shirt he picked up from the washing machine and walks to the kitchenette, "Coffee?" He feels stupid for asking when he can clearly you have put the coffee pot on.

"Yes, please?" You sweetly answer to him.

He fills two mugs with steaming hot coffee and brings them to the couch, he wince seeing the cluttering mess on his table that he has to put some stuff to the side to make room for the mugs of coffee.

You're busy chewing on your cereal to notice it and he peers over to see you're reading his notebook.

"Oh—" he stops himself from snatching it away from you.

You notice that he's looking at it and quickly flip shut, then put it one the top of stack, "I'm sorry but it's laying around on the table so... I didn't mean to read your journal," you apologize.

He bites his lower lip, not expecting you to read his journal filled with his writings in there. It's worse than letting you walk around his messy apartment but he can't blame you when he should have kept it somewhere safe.

"I'm sorry," you apologize again.

"It's okay," he says with a smile to convince you that it's okay for you to read the song lyrics he wrote about personal things.

"How come you never submitted your works for the literary contest?"

Han lifts his mug and watches the curls of steam from his coffee, "I don't I can compete with you."

You put your legs up and hug them in front of you, "but your writing is beautiful."

"They're not... they're lyrics," he says.

"Oh?" You lowly gasp, "so you write songs?"

"Kind of," he answers and carefully sips his coffee.

"Have you performed any of these songs?"

Han shakes his head to strongly deny, "I like writing them but not performing them."

"Why not?"

"Because I..." his word trails off once he realizes that you're getting too personal with him but it's too late to stop now.

"I don't think they're good," he concludes.

You take your mug of coffee and hold it with both hands, "Well, I never thought any of my writings are good," you share.

"But they are good," Han points out the obvious since your writings always won the literary contest for two years in a row.

"So you read them," you say with a satisfied smile.

Again, he's too late to back out now, "who doesn't?"

You take a small sip of your coffee then ask, "What do you think?"

His mug stops midair as he's about to sip his coffee, "they're good, great..."

The sound of the phone ringing from somewhere across the room interrupts the talk, after a few seconds you recognize that it's yours and it's ringing inside your purse.

"I'm sorry," you excuse yourself to get it.

Han silently drinks his coffee and catches glimpes of your conversation on the phone, it's safe to say that you need to go after hanging up the call.

"Sorry, but I have to go," you say just as he expected.

Han tidies up the place as much as he can while you're changing your clothes in the bathroom, your phone rings again as he puts records piling on his bedside table back to the shelf. He didn't mean to look but your phone is right there, lying on the bed and he can see the caller.

Alex, it's a very masculine sounded name. He doesn't want to assume anything and stops thinking about it as he hears the bathroom door swings open.

"Thank you for letting me crashing in your place," you return the clothes your borrowed from him.

"No problem at all," he sheepishly says.

You check your phone and shove it inside your purse after, "Thank you for this as well," you show him your bandaged knee at him.

"It's nothing really," he says.

It's been a long time that Han has someone over his place, especially of the opposite sex. He's been out of the dating pool for much longer than that, he doesn't know the code anymore, what he should do next?

He decides to keep himself busy as you collect your things from around the room. Han is putting the dirty dishes on the sink when you speak to him from the foyer.

"I'm free this Friday."

He turns around to see you standing with one hand against the wall and the other is strapping your shoes in place, "huh?"

"I'm free this Friday," you repeated.

He's not deaf but what he doesn't get is the meaning of those words. Does it mean you want him to take you on a date? Or you set the date for both of you? Or you want to casually hang out with him? Or you need his help again at the bar?

In other words, he's stupid when it comes to social cues.

"You want me to... uh—"

"Friday at eight?" You say.

Oh, okay, that means you want to go on a date. He stifles a nod, "sure, yeah."

"Okay," you smile seeing him being awkward.

Han may have wanted to take you on a date but you're so smart, so composed, so confident, you're everything he's not and it's impossible for him not to feel the slightest bit intimidated. He doesn't know how to impress you, he only has himself and it's not enough.

"Can you stay sober until then?" He blurts out.

You crack a crisp laugh that echoes in his studio apartment, "I'll try," you vaguely answer.

The initial thought is he wants you to stay away from drinking except when he's there with you but you took it that he was being playful with you. Well, either way, he's glad that he can make you laugh.

"I'll see you again," you say with a bright smile.

"See you again," He says back.

And Han hangs on to those words, to the promise that he can see your smile again.

-

It's eight minutes past 8 pm on Friday night.

It's past the appointed time for the date but there no sight of you yet. A few minutes shouldn't be considered late, you must be on the way here and things happen, you may forget something after getting out of the door or traffic or... there's just so many reasons why you—

Han feels a tap on his shoulder which makes him turns on his feet.

"Hey, have you been waiting long?"

He is not ready to see you, not when he's almost think that you'll ditch both him and the date. But here you are, looking at him with a smile that gradually fades into a confused one.

"Are you okay?"

He snaps himself out of it and clears his throat, "No, I'm just—" he forgot the question you asked him and try again, "I mean I'm okay."

You look up at the sign of the place he takes you for the date, "I've never been here," you comment.

Doesn't know what to do with his hands, he shoves them into the pockets of his jacket.

"Me too," he casually says.

"Huh?" You blink your eyes at him, confounded.

-

Consider both of you lucky that there's still one more table available, it's Friday night so it's no surprise that it's crowded with people. Upbeat music is playing in the big hall filled with rows of ping-pong tables mixed with the sounds of the ping-pong balls hits either the players' paddle or the tables.

You shake the jacket off your shoulder once you get to the assigned table, "I don't know how to play table tennis," you admit right away to prepare him that an accident or two is imminent.

"Me too," he innocently answers from the end of the table as he takes a paddle.

That explains why he never been here but still, why would he takes you here if he can't play?

"You're not serious, right?" You place your jacket on the empty bench on the side of the table.

"I'm serious," he says as he takes his jacket off.

You burst into laughter but he's just so clueless on why you're laughing.

"Most men would use this chance to show off that they're good at something but you..." you shrug and choose a paddle to use.

Han takes a ball from a box and bounces it on the table, "Well... I am not most men," he coyly says.

Not going to lie, that's so attractive of him, especially with strands of his curly hair falling over his face.

"Okay," you nod in acknowledgment.

You take your position on your side of the table, warming up your hands by opening and closing your hands before wrapping your hand around the handle of the paddle.

"Your serve," you give him the permission to start the game.

Han also takes his stance and throws the ball straight upward, he supposedly hits the ball when it's still hung in the air with the paddle but instead of that, his paddle flung across the table and caught by the net.

There's a dead air hanging between you and him as you both stare at his paddle stranded in the middle of the table. You look away to not embarrassed him more and see everyone is having a bottle of beer on their table.

You turn to look at him and ask, "beer?"

"Yep!" He shortly replies.

After two bottles of beers drained and a lot more failed attempts at serving the balls, you get the hang of it even though it's not to the level of what a proper ping-pong should be played.

"Another round?" You ask.

He doesn't wait but calls to order more drinks, "More beers, please!"

At the second round, your neck is moist with sweat and you can feel beads of sweat forming on your back, you plop down on the bench in exhaustion. Han gulps his bottle of water next to you, "another round?"

"I'm on a roll, sure!" You eagerly accept the offer.

"Loser have to pay for dinner?" He dares you with a lopsided grin.

It's a fair game since you're both terrible at it, you have nothing to lose except for your self-esteem. You offer your hand for a handshake at him, "deal!'

He takes your hand and firmly shakes it, "deal!"

The game is getting intense, you have your hair tied in a messy ponytail while Han has the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbow. Under the fluorescent lights you can see the evident veins coiling his arms, got you distracted more than once.

It's a tie, there's only one point needed to determine the winner. It's his serve so you prepare yourself to receive it even though your hand starts shaking.

"Don't go crying when you're lost," he teases you, bouncing the ball against the table with his hand.

"No problem. I look prettier when I cry," you shot back at him with a nonchalant shrug and a smile.

Han catches you off guard and shot a topspin serve. Fortunately, you reflex is still good despite your body is close to giving up, you shoot the ball back to him as hard as you can. He's heading to the right side to get it but too late to catch the ball right on time, it goes past him, bouncing to the wall on the back.

"Yes!" You jump on your feet to celebrate.

While Han just stands there and gives you an applause with a defeated look on his face.

"I WANT BURGERS!" You enthusiastically shout at him loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Okay, okay," he quickly responds and gestures you to calm down.

Since he's the one paying for dinner, you feel bad to order a lot of food so you take him for coffee and dessert after as a way to pay back for dinner, also because you're still hungry.

He lifts his cup of iced americano to make a toast, "To celebrate that we're no longer beginners on table tennis!"

Your hands are shaking when you lift your cup of cappuccino and he notices too, sending you both into laughters. You use both hands to lift it and carefully clink your drinks together to not slosh the content, "that was a good game," you comment.

"It was!" He agrees and drinks his coffee with a straw.

You share two slices of cakes together, he chose a cheesecake while yours is tiramisu, digging at it with forks and eating it between talks.

"Are you working on a writing at the moment?" He asks.

You wash down the spoonful of cake with coffee before answering,

"Kind of..." you vaguely answer.

"Is it for the upcoming literary contest?" He asks.

"I'm working on a lot of things at once," you share with a dry laugh.

Han nods and shoves a piece of cake into his small mouth. His cheeks are round and full when he's eating, you find them really adorable.

He catches you watching him eat and you hurriedly look away, "so..."

You remember the unanswered question on the last conversation you had with him at his place, you've been wondering what his true answer is.

"What do you think of my writings?"

"They're great. I like your choice of metaphors and yeah, they're great," he answers with mouth stuffed with food.

You sense that there's more than just great. You slightly tilt your head to the side and look at him, "But...?"

He stops chewing as you ask him that like he got caught lying. Maybe he is lying but with a good intention.

"You can be honest with me," you assure him while cutting a small piece of the cheesecake.

He sips his coffee to empty his mouth from food and properly answers to you, "There's nothing wrong with your writings," he begins.

He sits up straighter and looks at you, "it's just that... I get this impression that you're a bit... cynical?"

You lowly laugh and say, "wrong!"

You chew on the cake and stack your hands together on the table, "Not a little. I am cynical," you correct him.

Han licks his lips and presses them together into a thin line, perhaps feeling bad for analyzing your personality through your writings.

That only proves that he's not only reading for the sake of entertainment but he truly reads things between the lines. In that moment, you feel so bare and vulnerable in front of him.

"I witnessed two people falling out of love, breaking and tear each other apart until there's nothing left of them," you candidly share and put your hand around the coffee cup to absorb the warmth.

"Why would I want the same? I've seen enough for like... the last fifteen years of my existence so no, thank you, not interested," You conclude with a sad smile.

Han meekly nods as he sips the last of his coffee in silence. It's unclear why you decide to share personal things with him but deep down you know it's because he's not going to laugh at your pain.

-

With no sight of stars and the moon in the night sky, it only means that there are big dark clouds and it's going to rain soon. Han insists on walking you to your apartment even though he has to walk back to the bus stop to go home.

Notice that you're only a block away, you don't want this night to end with the tragic story you shared about your parent's divorce.

"I had a fun date," you comment.

Han smiles and he has the kind of smile that shines from the inside, there's nothing fake about it.

"It was a fun date," he says.

"I never had a date this nice before," you add to show him that you're not being phony.

"Me too," he responds.

He said those two words three times so far and you begin to wonder if you're actually suck at dates. You always skip this part and go straight to the sexual stuff, maybe that's why.

Once you both arrive at the entrance of your apartment building, you turn around and without thinking you ask, "Want to go upstairs?"

With another man, you wouldn't fuss much whether they want to come with you or not but with him, you have this force inside you to not screw this up. You look at him and can't tell if he's nervous, or surprised, or horrified. He's just standing with his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets even though the weather is pleasant.

"We don't have to do anything," you quickly mutter and immediately regret it because what if he wants to do something?

As always, honesty is the best policy. Well, that depends on how embarrassing the truth is. This one is still bearable, so you say, "I still want to talk to you."

The streetlight shines down on him, filling his brown eyes with dark glints and enthralling you to stare.

He nods and follows you inside. You feel awkward leading him to your floor, climbing the flight of stairs in silence but the echoes of your footsteps on the steps.

"Here I am," you stop in front of the door to your unit.

You rummage inside your purse for your key and push the door once you unlock it. The second you hear the song playing inside, you hurriedly close it again.

"What?" He asks you in a mix of panic and curiosity.

"Alex is listening to Sza," you answer.

"Alex?"

You forget that he doesn't know the context, you lock the door again and stand blocking him as if he would dare to barge inside.

"Alex is my roommate and she puts on Sza when she's having a guy over as some sort of code," you concisely explain.

"Ah..." he sighs in relief.

Is he relieved because he doesn't have to come inside or relieved because he doesn't want to talk to you? Is he— you never let your negative thoughts win so you find the alternative.

"How about your place?" You ask with a sly smile.

He considers it for a moment then says, "We should run then."

"Run? Why?"

"The last bus is in fifteen minutes," he simply answers.

"Oh?"

-

The two of you are drenched from running from the bus stop to his apartment in the rain, he lets you use the bathroom first to change while he prepares clothes you can borrow from him.

Han puts it on the end of the bed and you can comfortably change as he takes his turn to use the bathroom. You seem to have found comfort in his apartment which is a lot tidier after he realizes that someone could visit him uninvited.

Candidly speaking, the only person he thinks would come visit him is you.

You pull out a record from the shelf and put it on the record player, the music drowning out the sound of raindrops pattering against the window glass. As if it's your own bed, you sit with your back resting against the headboard, covering your legs with the duvet.

"Why are you standing there?" You ask him.

He towels dry his hair quickly before doing what you ordered him, sitting next to you on the bed.

"It's not like we haven't shared a bed before," you add and get comfortable by putting a pillow behind your back.

Whether it's the proximity or because he has run through the rain that makes him feel snug and warm all of a sudden, the raindrops pattering against the window supports this comforting atmosphere.

"How long have you been collecting?" You gesture to his shelf full of records.

It must be a headache to find a certain record because he doesn't organize them but you refrain from telling him.

"Some are my father's, I brought them with me when I moved out of the house and I started collecting two years ago," his fingers are playing with the lint on his sweatpants as he's speaking.

"You own some rare ones?" You ask in a curiosity.

"I have The Beatles White Album with printing number 0000523," he answers with a proud smile.

"Wow!" You exclaim in awe, you're familiar with the knowledge that the value of the album can go up significantly if it has a low printing number and he owns one.

"Just know that if I lost it, I'd know that you did it," he jokes.

"Dang! I was planning the whole robbery thing in my head," you joke back.

The rain has turned into drizzle and it gets quiet in the room, but the kind that makes him not feel pressured to fill it, a comfortable kind.

"What's your favorite song?" You ask out of the blue.

He hisses because it's like you're asking who is his favorite child. Not that he has any but he knows the dilemma.

"Don't think!" You tell him.

"Just one that pops on the top of your head," you offer an easy way to pick one.

There's this one song that automatically plays inside his head when he looks at you. It's one that he's unconsciously humming when he's in the shower, tying his shoes, or pouring himself a cup of coffee in the morning.

Not sure if you can catch the reference, he calmly answers, "Lovely Day by Bill Withers."

You nod in acknowledgment and smile, "That's a nice one!"

He turns to look at you, "and you?"

"Off You by The Breeders," you shortly reply as if you have waited a long time for this question.

Except that Han never heard of the song or the band. He feels bad for not knowing and you catch on it right away.

"You never heard of it?"

Han sheepishly shakes his head.

"You're lucky that I still have my Spotify premium," you playfully say and pick up your phone to play the song for him.

You set the volume to the highest setting then put your phone between you and him on the bed, listening to the intro of the song of low, minimal bass and guitar. The song somehow fits the moment, the singer sings like she's telling a story or a poem.

"I am the autumn in the scarlet. I am the make-up on your eyes."

That's such interesting lyrics and Han intently keeps listening to know why this is your favorite song. One thing he knows is this is one of the songs he can listen to while lying and staring at the ceiling.

"I've never seen a starlet or a riot or the violence of you."

He hears you sigh next to him and he looks to the side to see that you're crying, he knows it for sure as the tears on your cheeks reflect the lights at him. He leans and checks to see if you're okay, he puts your hair away and then tucks it behind your ear.

"Are you okay?"

You look at him with your eyes glassy and filled with sadness, "I don't want to get hurt," you croak

It must be scary for you to open up to someone when you've seen the worst thing love can do to a person. He understands the fear well because he has the same heart that lies and beats inside his chest.

It's vulnerable yeah but we are never fully broken to the point that we're irreparable.

However, Han doesn't intend to break it, he wants to embrace it, nurture it, and protect it with all of his might.

He cups your jaw with his thumb and gently wipes your wet cheek, "I'm not going to hurt you," he says with a soft smile.

More tears roll down your cheeks as you close your eyes, it's a heartbreaking sight to see.

To prove his words, he holds your face and leans in to kiss you, pouring all of his heart's content that strangely only expands in size the longer he kisses you.

Han lets go of the kiss yet holds a tender gaze with you, "I'm not going to hurt you," he reassures.

You hold the hand holding your face and softly smile at him, a smile that tells him that you've decided to trust his words.

For that, Han slowly sails into your heart and strands himself on the island inside your chest.

You rest your head on his shoulder as he puts his arm around your shoulder, welcoming you into his warm embrace. Both of you stay like that while listening to the rest of the song which encased you both in a bittersweet moment.

"I land to sail... Island sail. Yeah, we're movin'... Yeah, we're movin'..."

-

This is what he means when he says Lovely Day automatically plays in the back of his head when he looks at you.

Han has been watching you sleep for a few minutes now, leaning against the desk with arms crossed in his chest and he can vividly hear Bill Withers singing inside his head.

"Just one look at you and I know it's gonna be a lovely day, lovely day, lovely day, lovely day, lovely day."

You're pretty when you cry but even prettier when you sleep with a hand under your head, so still and so quiet, looking like an angel lost in her dream.

"Lovely day, lovely day, lovely day, lovely day," the song is playing in his head on a loop.

The sun is rising and he doesn't want you to wake up yet for he wants to stare at your face longer. The sight of the baked goods he bought from the bakery across the street is disagreeing with him, it was still hot when he bought it and it's more likely to get cold if you don't wake up soon.

Then again, how can he disrupt an angel who's peacefully sleeping and away from the harm of the world?

Well, the sound of your phone ringing can.

A crease forms between your eyebrows as you force yourself awake from slumber. The song playing in his head abruptly stops and it reminds him to stop watching you. Han gets away from the bed and pretends to be busy in the kitchenette. In his peripheral, he can see your hand groping around the bedside table for your phone and check it.

"Morning!" You sleepily greet from the bed.

He plays it cool and turns to see you, "Morning!" He says back.

"Coffee?" He asks with a clean mug in his hand.

"Yes, please?" You say with a delicate smile that soothes him like a morning dew.

"Can I stay on the bed?" You ask with a shy laugh.

"Yeah, sure," he replies, looking at you wrapped in a blanket.

Han brings your mug of coffee first and makes another trip to bring his and the bag of bakery on the other hand.

"What do we have?" You're eyeing the bag, not daring to look into it yourself.

"Breakfast," he casually says and opens it for you, the buttery smell of freshly baked goods wafting around the room.

You start with a sip of coffee then dig inside the paper bag to grab a piece, tearing at it and eating it piece by piece.

You get interrupted by your phone dings with a new message.

"Your roommate?" He wildly guesses.

"Yeah, she wants me to come home quick," you answer, "she needs the intervention."

"Huh?"

"That means she doesn't like the guy she's having over in our place and wants me to intervene, you know, an excuse to get him out of the house," you explain then lick the powdered sugar on your finger.

"I see," he says even though he wants you to stay a little longer.

Just like you heard his thought, you quickly add, "Not that I don't want to stay. She did it for me like two months ago so I kind of owe her one."

He sips his coffee and assures you, "It's alright."

You rummage inside the paper bag to get another piece and without looking at him, you ask, "I have something to ask you."

He suddenly turns rigid at the men of something to ask because it sounds intriguing, scary, and exciting at the same time.

"Yes," he grips the handle of the mug a little too hard.

You bite into the bread with a custard filling and gets on your upper lip. In reflex, he wipes it for you with his thumb and you giggle once you notice the mess around your mouth.

"And the question?" He asks, genuinely curious about what you're about to ask him before the custard gets in the way.

"Oh, yeah, uhm..." you drink your coffee and hold it with both hands on your lap, "Is it too early if I ask you on a second date now?"

That, he didn't expect to hear at all but it makes him feel the same way, intrigued, scared, and excited, it's a mixed feelings.

"No," he honestly answers with a shy smile. He's never been with a girl who's this bold and so upfront like you, he likes it though, it makes things easier for him.

"How about tonight?" You ask with hopeful eyes and even a hopeful smile.

When you asked if it's too early he didn't know it would be this early, the earliest he could think of is next Friday.

"To–tonight?" He stammers.

You tilt your head to the side and hold your mug close to your lips, "No?"

"No," he responds without thinking.

He immediately realizes you might have thought he answered out of pressure, "I would love to!"

A smile rises on your face as you bite into your bread again, "okay," you say.

Han makes the bed and then gets himself another cup of coffee while you're changing in the bathroom. He's already planning on going back to sleep after you leave.

Your phone rings again at the same time you step out of the bathroom, "Alex! Oh, my God!" You groan and accept the call.

"I'm coming!" You briefly speak into the phone then hang up.

You shove your things into your purse and put on your jacket, looking at him to say, "I'll text you about the date."

He nods and puts his coffee mug down to send you off, watching as you bend down to put on your shoes with your hair falling around your face like a waterfall.

You gasp as you stand right in front of him, "See you later?"

"See you later," he repeated, his voice tinted with excitement and intrigue but not scared.

He should have known that you're subtly hinting at a kiss as you look at him with a sweet smile on your face. This is why learning social cues is important, he missed a lot of things because of—

The next thing he knows, your lips are on his lips and your hand is fisting the front of his t-shirt, clutching at it as you brush your soft lips over his. You taste as sweet, as smooth as the custard cream you were eating earlier, he just can't enough.

Bill Withers' voice starts to fill his head again as you pull away from the kiss with a smile on your parted mouth.

"Okay, then," you hurriedly let go of his t-shirt and shyly fix your hair, "bye!"

The song keeps playing even after you leave and close the door behind you, he can hear Bill Withers singing the part where he holds the note for 18 seconds, endlessly playing in the back of his mind.

"Lovely day, lovely day, lovely day, lovely day...."

-

Han doesn't want to be late so he leaves early but when he gets to the appointed place that is a museum, he sees the sign that says closed. Is he late or come to the wrong place? He checks the text you sent him and he's right, it's the only museum with this name.

He starts pacing and thinking of calling you, that way you don't have to bother coming here.

"You're early!" You say as you come from the other direction.

"I was about to call you," he blurts out.

You sense the panic in his voice and ask, "Why? What's wrong?"

He shows you the closed sign hanging on the glass door of the museum entrance, "it's closed."

Instead of disappointed, you break a laugh and gently grab his elbow, "it's closed because of the event we're going to attend," you explain, then link your arm with his to walk towards the entrance.

Despite the closed sign, the entrance is not locked but security is stopping both of you at the end of the hallway. You pull something out of your purse and show it to them, tickets.

They let you both walk through the scanner and enter the main hall of the museum, they keep the lights low but he can see people gathering around the small stage that is set between two large marble statues with a big painting decorated on the wall on the back.

"What is this?" He asks in pure curiosity.

You take two cups of beer provided for guests and hand one to him, "It's an exclusive music session, only fifty people are invited to this," you keep your voice low to avoid the chat echoing in the vast hall.

"How did you get the tickets?" He asks along with a sip of his beer.

"From a friend of a friend," you vaguely answer.

That's enough details, he's sure that someone like you has contact here and there. He shouldn't be surprised, he sips his beer and takes a spot on the back row of people getting ready to watch with the intro starts playing from the set.

"Is it a band I know?" He asks.

You scrunch your nose at him, "not sure."

The intro is building up and getting louder, the crowd welcoming the band with a wave of applause and patiently waiting as they get ready with their instruments. There are three of them, the vocalist takes center stage with a guitar slung across his chest, the one who greets the crowd is taking the left side with his keyboard and the other one occupies the right side with his drum kit.

It's one band that he never heard before but he likes how experimental their music is, the kind that is groundbreaking and atmospheric. They mix the sounds from their instruments with samplers playing from an electronic kit, the big hall helps echo the music back at him to create this grand sound effortlessly.

With only a small group of people watching and no one pulling their phones out, it's immersive and intimate. You ditch the cup of beer and turn to look at him, putting your hands on each side of his waist, singing the lyrics the band is playing.

"I just want to love you in my own language," you mouth every word of the lyrics to him.

With a smile, you lean in to gently kiss him in the dark of the room. You pull away from the kiss and put your hands around his neck, slow dancing to the song like two lovers left alive.

-

The taxi ride home reminds him of that night except that you're sober and you're sitting close next to him, holding his hand

"What do you think of our second date?"

He looks up from watching his hand clasped with yours on his thigh, "it was nice."

You nod, "Nice is good!"

It was more than nice that he can't describe it with words, Han feels the need to assure you that, "It's the best date I've ever had!"

A smile grows on your beautiful face like a blossoming flower, "our first date is still the best but this comes close to that," you half agreed with him.

Han is getting used to seeing you on his bed and wearing his clothes, smiling as you watch him getting onto the bed to sit next to you.

"Don't you want to play your songs like that too?" You ask out of the blue.

He wanted to but he's not confident if he is that good and there's another thing too. He shakes his head and shyly laughs at the brief images of him performing his songs.

"Why not?" You ask.

"I'm not that good," he shortly answers.

You scrunch your nose in disagreement and he likes it whenever you do that, "I don't believe that."

He hates to disappoint you but that's just the truth, the songs he wrote, he's not planning on letting them out to the world for everyone to hear.

You stack your legs to one side, facing him, "Can I ask you something?"

Another question, how thrilling! He nods in excitement at what you're curious about.

"Is the second date too early for us to have sex?"

Han chokes on his saliva and stifles a cough. A part of him wants to take things slow with you but another part of him fancies you so much he can't say no to you. He should choose to be wise and choose the former, right?

"Uh... I think we should wait until the third date," he says and his mouth feels bitter saying it.

"Ah, okay," you repeatedly nod.

A moment passes in silence then you turn to look at him, "I mean, we can start by sleeping naked together," you suggest an idea.

He swallows air at the mention of 'naked' and 'together', it seems impossible to him to do that without involving anything sexual in between.

"Or we'll wait for the third date, that's fine," you quickly add with an awkward laugh.

Things are moving so fast that Han is still having a hard time processing everything that happened in the last seven days. But why would he stop when things are going well between you and him?

You wanted this and he wanted this too, as long as you both are going in the same direction, why hit the brake and risk everything going off track?

"We can sleep naked together," he says with a plain tone.

"Yeah?"

He nods and turns to sit on the edge of the bed, volunteering to be the first to take his clothes off. The bed shifts and he guesses you decide to start taking your clothes off too.

Han hurriedly gets under the duvet and watches you unclasping your bra. He stops looking as you get up to remove your underwear. You crawl back onto the bed and get under the cover, slowly settling yourself next to him, putting your hand on his bare chest.

"You're shivering," you lowly speak with your face only inches away from him, then proceed to snuggle next to him.

He stares at the ceiling because he knows, if he looks at you, he wants to kiss you and a kiss will unlock the raging desire inside him. He can feel your nipples graze his side as your body overlaps half of his body, your leg drapes around his with your foot softly rubbing his shin.

You lean into his side and place a long kiss on his neck, your hand slides down his front, stopping right on his abdomen.

"How about now, mmh?" You softly whisper.

Using your fingers, you lightly touch his abdomen making lazy circles on the skin.

"I have condoms in my purse if that's your concern," you tell him.

Han is getting weak with every kiss you place on his neck and the skin behind his ear. He turns his head to the side and is about to tell you what his concerns are but you capture his lips in a rapturous kiss.

You gently lick his lips before pulling away, "I want to do this with you," you assure him.

He doesn't know how to tell you that it's not you, it's him and his low self-esteem. He kisses you again to brace himself to speak his worry with you.

"I'm bad at it," he says.

That gets you quiet for a moment, "says who?"

He's unsure of it too but mostly it's the anxiety talking, "Me?"

You lowly chuckle and put more of your body on top of him, "How do I know you're bad if I haven't tried?"

That's what confuses him too. It's not like he has a rating written on his head for his sex skill, "I—"

You cut him off with a kiss and shut him up for good as you keep kissing him, your hand sliding lower until you meet his hardening member.

You stimulate him with gentle strokes, lightly rubbing his tip with your thumb while lowly moaning against his lips. You pull away from the kiss to say, "You can touch me."

Hesitate for a while, Han rests his hand on the arch of your back, his fingers trailing down your spine as you continue kissing him. You know how to use your lips, your tongue, your teeth, he can lay there and let you kiss him day and night. He wraps his arms around you to fully feel you against his body, skin to skin.

"How are you so soft?" He doesn't mean to say it out loud but you smile hearing his words.

You give him a long peck on the lips before excusing yourself to get the condom from your purse. His eyes follow you as you climb onto the bed.

Sitting next to his body with all of your hair draped on one shoulder, you rip open the foil packet and carefully, roll the rubber down his length. You crawl over his body and slowly put your body on top of him, continuing the fiery kisses that kindled the fire inside him.

This time, Han lets his hands freely roam your body, trailing the curve of your body, and feels your flesh molds into the palm of his hands.

You place a long peck on his lips before getting up, kneeling with your body between your bodies. You put your hand on his chest and say, "Just lay back, I'll do all the work."

He swallows air and with his own eyes, he sees you taking a seat on his thighs and wrapping your hand around his swollen cock. You rub it against your wetness which he can see and feel, it takes everything in him to not let his brain shut down.

"Oh," you moan with your eyes closed as you keep rubbing his shaft between your folds.

You roll your head around while letting out a long moan and then look at him in the eyes with a sly smile on your face. Still holding it in your hand, you position yourself and align his cock with your entrance, then you slowly lower yourself down his length.

"Oh," you moan again.

It's the sight of his cock disappearing into you that gets his jaws hanging open, you moan some more as you take all of him and seated on his thighs again. A low laugh spills out of your parted mouth as you tilt your head back, then say, "Oh, my— oh, I need a moment!"

Han feels like he's having an out-of-body experience, he's getting turned on more from looking at you doing things to him than the feeling of being inside you. He believes it's because his brain has a hard time catching up, he can only look at you with eyes wide open.

"How do I feel?" you lowly ask with a peck on his open mouth, then kiss his neck next, "Do I feel good, mmh?"

His brain is so close to short-circuiting that he can't form a verbal answer, he stifles a nod and draws a big breath instead.

As you straddle him, you take his hands and put them on your body, touching yourself using his hands, smooth as silk that he whimpers under his breath. You drop his hands on your thighs and put your hands on his chest as you start rolling your hips back and forth, at times, you move in circular motions.

Han lets out a groan as you abruptly stop moving and take his hands away from you, "Give me a moment," you say with a hoarse voice.

You flip all of your hair away to the back then plant both feet against the mattress on each side of his body. You prop your hands behind you and against his thighs as support.

In this position, Han can see his cock slips in and out of you as you bounce on top of him with your head thrown back and moaning, filling the room with your lewd noises. He can feel it now, your walls wrapping and tightening around him. His hands flew to your hips, trying to slow you down but instead of that, he gripped each side of your waist until his nails dug into the flesh.

"Oh..." you breathless moan.

"So good, so good," you repeatedly chant as your hips pick up the speed.

He doesn't mean to cum first but watching you enjoying yourself and fucking him so good gets him so overwhelmed, it just happens.

Seeing you getting tired, he helps you by guiding you to move on top of him. Your skin is moist with sweat, your breasts are bouncing with every movement and your breath is ragged.

"So close, oh, so close," you tell him between your whines.

He draws you close until your chest meets his so he can start bucking his hips from under you. His mouth is pressed against your shoulder as you're moaning so close to his ear.

"I'm cumming, oh..." you muffle your scream by pressing a haste kiss on his lips.

You whimper against his lips as you're reeling from the immense pleasure, returning the kisses with tongue and teeth clashes in your mouth. You both gasp for air the second you let go of the kiss and slowly come down from the high by cuddling each other.

Han gets comfortable touching your body now, he lightly touches you and kisses the skin that he can put his lips on as you're lying on top of him.

"That wasn't bad," you say with your eyes closed.

He notices the blissful smile on your face that can only mean everything went well unlike what he thought it would be.

You lean in to kiss his cheek and kiss his lips next, longer than the previous one, "This counts as our third date," you remark.

It usually scares him that things are going so fast but this feels right. Maybe all these times, he was wrong trying to fit everything into everyone's standard when in fact, things should go at his own pace.

He wouldn't let this slide away just because the time it took from him knowing you to date you happens in a week.

"Okay," he agrees.

You smile and place a long peck on his lips, "we're dating now," you say.

"Yes."

"I am your girlfriend now," you inform with a sly smile.

He lets out a chuckle and puts his hand on the nape of your neck, "And I am your boyfriend."

"That's right!" You respond.

"We're boyfriend and girlfriend," he remarks.

Even though it feels foreign in his mouth, he likes the sound of it. You and him, boyfriend and girlfriend.

-

TWO MONTHS LATER

Han is so used to thinking that he's the only character existing in his life. Han shopping for groceries by himself, Han does his laundry himself, Han makes coffee for one, Han sleeps alone on his bed, and he thinks of those kinds of scenarios in his head often enough to prepare himself that maybe what his future would be like.

Never once did he think another character would enter his scenarios. But looking at you walking around his apartment in his clothes, eating food from his fridge, and sleeping together almost every night, he starts to think that maybe his future wouldn't be as bleak as he thought it would be.

He also used to be by himself, he can't stand being in a room with anyone else and it's strange how fast he can adjust himself to your presence.

He's happy as long as you're around him, just like now. He's sitting with his back against the headboard, a guitar on his lap, and been aimlessly playing it yet you remain unbothered, lying sideways with a hand propped under your head while reading a book, occupying the end of the bed.

Even sharing the silence with you isn't boring, it's comfortable and nice. How can it get boring when he gets to see your beautiful face as much as he wants?

"Babe?" He calls.

You look away from your book, "yeah?"

"Want to hear a song I wrote about you?" He asks with a sly grin.

You exhale and close your book, "Okay, let's hear it."

Han takes a breath and memorizes the chords he's going to play, he begins by placing his fingers on the guitar fret to form the A chord.

He strums and starts singing, "Spinning on that dizzy edge. Kissed her face and kissed her head. Dreamed of all the different ways. I had to make her glow.”

Once he finds the rhythm, he can confidently look at you as he continues singing and playing his guitar.

"'Why are you so far away?' she said. 'Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you, that I'm in love with you?'"

With such agility, his fingers seamlessly change their position based on the chords he's playing on the fret.

"You... Soft and only. You... Lost and lonely."

He smiles as he sings and stares at the expression on your face as you intently listen to him.

"You... Strange as angels. Dancing in the deepest oceans. Twisting in the water."

He raises the note at the end and croons, "You're just like a dream. You're just like a dream."

He aggressively strums the strings to end the song and lifts his guitar in pride.

"It's good, right?" He asks with a subtle eyebrow raise.

You turn and lay on your stomach, not sure if you know that in that position, he can see your cleavage as your breasts almost spill out of your black tank top. He shouldn't be seeing those but it's easy to tell you're not impressed with the song he played.

"Three things," you simply say.

"Go ahead and tell me," he allows you with a hand gesture.

"First, you think I wouldn't know that it's The Cure song?" You ask with a hand under your chin.

He looks up and shrugs, he can't find any reason why you wouldn't know such a widely known band, "Well..."

"Second is I don't like love songs," you share with an apologetic smile.

It hits him just now that he should know you're not a fan of love songs. He agrees with a nod, "Okay, noted. The third?"

"I don't want you to write a love song about me," you say.

"Oh, come on!" He groans in complaint.

"I haven't been dating anyone in a long time and now that I have a girlfriend, I have so much to get off my chest so let me be gooey and cheesy!" He rambles and runs out of breath at the end of the sentence.

"I'm not saying you can't write love songs," you say with a subtle eye roll.

"You want me to write love songs about... someone else?" He asks with confusion.

"Or about something like your faded and worn-out Supreme t-shirt," you answer.

Han can't tell if you're trying to mock him, make fun of him or completely joking, either way, he's feeling offended.

"Can I write a hate song about you then?" He asks.

You scrunch your nose and ask, "A hate song?"

"Yeah like things I hate about you," he says with a sneer.

He picks up his guitar and places it on his lap again, "You know what? I wrote one already just now," he says.

You stifle a laugh and lightly shake your head, "The stage is yours."

Han lies about making a song in his head just now but he starts by strumming his guitar and plays a combination of chords.

"I hate your hair..." he begins, strumming two chords in between as he thinks of another lyric.

"The way it always falls perfectly in place and makes you look like a girl in a shampoo ad," he tries to fit the melody to the chords he's playing.

"Hate it when you fix my grammar and insist that it's pronounced keen-wah instead of queen-noa," he continues while thinking of another thing he hates.

"I know you're right but god please let me be a man with pride."

You dramatically roll your eyes at that one while keep listening to him as he goes through a bridge which is just him playing the same four chords on repeat.

"Hate it, hate it that I'm your boyfriend," he keeps going.

"Now people going to compare us and say you have the prettiest smile," He slips two chords in between, "but that's okay... because I have the bigger brain."

You frown at that one and throw daggers with your eyes, he takes that as his cue to stop with his make-up song and ends it with a slap on the guitar.

"So..." he drags the word as silence hangs in the air, "what do you think?"

You tilt your head to one side and stay quiet for a moment. You rub your temple is never a good sign and he prepares himself for the worst.

Then you suddenly ask, "Want to make out?"

He repeatedly nods like a happy puppy, putting away his guitar as you crawl on the bed towards him. You put your leg over his body and sit on his lap.

You smile as you look down at his face with your hands holding his face, and then you slowly put your lips on his lips, kissing him with fondness.

He no longer hesitates to touch you, he puts his arms under and around you, angling your head so he can kiss you deeper, and when he pulls away from the kiss, he drags his mouth down the column on your neck.

"Han?" You softly call.

He hums and answers your call with a kiss because that's most likely what you're going to ask him which is to kiss you again.

The hand on his chest pushes him away and keeps a few inches between your faces, "I read your journal this morning," You suddenly confess and hurriedly kiss him, knowing that he's going to be mad about it.

It's his turn to push you away with his hands on your shoulders, "You went through my underwear drawer?"

There's a surprised look on your face, "Ew, no. It was lying near the window sill," you say.

It's his habit of forgetting things, where he puts them, and forgets to put them back in its place. He's bad with his memory but the thing is you read it.

"Another thing on the list of things I hate about you," he remarks.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic," you sigh.

"I wrote about my most personal things there," he says with his hands resting on your shoulder blades.

"Like how you lost your virginity in the backseat of a car while Radiohead's most depressing song is playing in the car stereo?"

"Exit Music For A Film is not depressing," he defends himself.

"They wrote it for the Romeo + Juliet soundtrack and they didn't even play it in the movie because guess what?"

"It's depressing?"

You nod and put your hands on his chest, it's time to turn the conversation back on track, "No one wants to listen to a song about how you lost your virginity but your other songs are good."

"You should let them out to the world," you say with eyes that sparkle and make his heart leap.

He turns away to not let your charm win him over, "You know how I feel about being a singer, by myself on a stage... it's awkward," he explains.

You turn his head back to look at you, "Okay then let's make a band!" You simply solve.

"Unless you want to join then I don't have anyone who wants to be in a band with me," he says with a defeated sigh.

You turn his head back to face you again, "how about a one-man band?"

"That's even lame. I never heard a successful one-man band," he says with a chagrin.

You put on a shocked face and start to list all the one-man bands you know, "Paul McCartney, Prince, Phil Collins, Bon Iver, Tame Impala, LCD Soundsystem, M83, Sufjan Stevens... and Dave Grohl basically started The Foo Fighters by himself," you finish with a proud smile.

"Dave Grohl and I are different entities, he is in Nirvana and I'm just... me, loser," he gives another explanation that makes him not pursue music.

"Being dramatic again," you sigh and rub your temple again.

He slides his hands down your arms and squeezes your elbows, he understands that you're trying to be supportive of his passion but he's not sure of his talent.

He sees your disappointed face and lifts your chin, "I'm not that good," he says.

You don't even try to deny him, probably have enough of doing it for him.

"And I'm still mad about you reading my journal," he says with a pout.

You put your hands around his neck and draw him close, "How about I give you head to make up for it?"

That gets him hot and bothered in a second, he plays it cool as if your words didn't affect him at all.

"Well, if you insist," he says.

You chuckle and kiss him, continuing the make-out session that is put to a halt by an argument. Your hand swiftly works open his jeans and slips inside, palming his hardening member with your hand.

"I'll make you forget that you were mad at me," you whisper before kissing him down his chest and pulling his jeans down to let his cock out of its confine.

Han has already forgotten that he was mad at you the second you take all of his length into your mouth, you're lying between his legs and taking your time to please him with your mouth.

Not just that, he's slowly losing his mind as you keep sucking him and combining it with your hand pumping the rest that you can't take with your mouth.

"Are you close, baby?" You ask before putting his swollen cock in your mouth again.

"Uh-huh," he breathlessly answers.

You pull it out and gasp for air, pumping his cock slick with your spit as you ask, "Where do you want to cum?"

His brain is foggy to pick one out of so many options but you notice that he's eyeing your chest and understand it right away.

You let go of his cock to take your tank top off and let your breasts hang down your chest as you lean down over his crotch to continue sucking his cock. Your nipples are grazing his thighs and his legs twitch at how it arouses him in a newfound way, "close, baby?"

He repeatedly nods and watches you keep the stimulation going by pumping his cock at a quick pace, bringing your chest close as you're doing it.

You put all of your hair to the back, not risking any of his bodily fluid lands on it. You moan and sigh, looking into his eyes as you say, "I can feel you twitching in my hand."

With a few more pumps, the white arch of his seed erupted from the tip of his cock, painting streaks on your chest and breasts.

"You cum a lot, baby," you say with an impressed, sultry smile for him to think that it's a complaint.

You keep your hand going up and down his shaft, milking every drop of the pearly white essence. You use the tip of his cock to smear it all over and around your nipples.

Once you're done playing with his cock that gradually softens in your hand, you crawl over to kiss him.

"Are you still mad?" You ask with a sweet, sinful smile.

He puts on a dumb smile and says, "Me? Mad? I must be crazy to be mad at you."

-

Han is in the middle of his class when he receives a new text message, he should be thankful to whoever texted him because he almost falls asleep until his phone buzzes on his desk and startles him awake. He checks the text by putting his phone under the desk and smiles seeing your contact name as the sender.

"Meet me at the library steps after class," you wrote in your text.

The library steps are located on the steps of the building across the library but they call it the library steps because most students like to read or study while sitting on the steps. Not sure if you know that his class has ended, he looks around and can't find you, so he takes a seat on the steps with his backpack next to his feet.

The weather is cool and pleasant, he has an hour before his next class starts so he has time to wait and enjoy the weather. After a few minutes, he spots you making your way toward him and he gets up to welcome you, you're walking so fast and not slowing down even though he's only a few meters away.

Crash is imminent but that seems to be what your intention is, you loop your arms around his neck and pull him for a kiss. This marks the first time you kiss him on campus and it's nerve-wracking, he can't stop thinking how many people are watching him now.

He looks around the second he lets go of the kiss and finds that no one truly cares. Well, it's not like kissing on the campus ground is illegal so why should he worry?

"Oh, I have fifteen minutes before my next class so I'm just going to text you what I need to tell you," you explain everything in one breath.

"Why can't you tell me now?" He asks, perplexed.

"Because you're most likely to forget it so I'll just text you," you answer and fix the collar of his shirt.

"Then why did you ask to meet me here?" He asks again even with more curiosity.

"That's because I want to see you and kiss you," you simply answer and give him a quick peck on the lips with a giggle.

Han laughs, the kind of laugh that makes him shine from within, a part of him that he has never seen until you brought it out of him.

"Why? I can't do that?" You ask with a chuckle.

He puts his arms around you and pulls you close, "We can definitely do that."

Han takes his turn to kiss you, giving you a long, lingering kiss and trying to keep it appropriate. He endearingly brushes your hair after and tucks it behind your ear. The sun hits you right in the eyes as you look up at him with a smile that is as warm as your smile.

"I have to go now," you mutter.

"Okay," he says and presses a long peck on your lips before letting you go.

It's been months since he dated you and he can still hear Bill Withers singing inside his head.

"Lovely day, lovely day, lovely day, lovely day..."

-

The address you sent is of the house of someone he doesn't know but he recognized some faces as he walked inside so he assumed it belonged to a fellow university. You said you'll be waiting by the kitchen but it's a big house and it's hard to navigate through the sea of people without bumping into one.

After getting lost in a maze of big and expensive furniture, he finds you in the kitchen like you said, nursing a bottle of beer while leaning against the kitchen counter.

"Hey, you're here!" You exclaim as you see him coming to you.

You're going right into his arms to hug him, "Miss you," you mumble.

"You're drunk already?" He jokingly asks.

You scoff and look at him, "Not even close," you answer.

It's impossible to resist kissing you when you're this close and you're smiling at him, your hands are around him like his personal comfort blanket. Han leans in and gives you a short yet sweet kiss on the lips.

You giggle when he pulls away and hands him your beer, "I have someone I want you to meet," you say.

Han doesn't realize that someone is standing at the end of the counter until you gesture him to come. A small guy wearing a beanie and glasses perched on his nose, he dressed so casually for a party in a white t-shirt and jeans.

"This is Felix," you introduce him.

Felix smiles and offers his hand for a handshake, "I'm Felix," he says.

He gets taken aback by his deep voice, not expecting that it's coming out of this elf-like person, "I'm Han," he introduces back.

"I know Felix from my communication class, we're doing an assignment together and I found out recently that," you turn to look at Han before continuing talking, "Felix plays drums."

Now he gets your intention of inviting him to this party, you know he hates coming to things like this but he understands now.

"I told him about your songs and your dream of forming a rock band," you explain,  avoiding his eyes are you speak since you're doing all of it behind his back.

"Yeah, I'm interested," Felix says between his sips of canned Red Bull.

Han doesn't know how to explain to Felix that it's never his dream to form a rock band, it's mostly you and your steadfast conviction that that dream will come true.

"I don't—"

You cut him off by grabbing his and Felix's hand, "Now, come follow me," you say.

Han and Felix are trailing behind you as you lead the way to the basement of the house that he believes is off-limit to guests.

You open the door to what he guesses is a door to a supply closet, it's indeed that from stacks of sheets and towels on the shelf but on the back, there's another door. From the way you know that it's a sliding door, he believes you've been here but that's a question he'll ask later in private.

"Welcome to rich people's man cave," you announce.

It's a recreation room filled with fun and expensive stuff, it's a literal man cave because Han can imagine him spending most of his time here if he were the owner.

"Are we even allowed here?" Felix asks, being the only one with a conscience.

"I know the owner of the house and I've been here before," you reply but not really answering his question.

Han glares at you for now but something else behind you steals his attention away, a custom Fender Stratocaster. He goes to admire it with his hands.

"Felix, you may want to check this," you say, throwing away the white sheets covering the drums.

He gasps at the sight of it and not waste time sitting behind the drums, touching the surface of it with amazement in his eyes, "Why would they keep this sweet thing hidden in here?"

You stand in the middle of a room and watch them admiring musical instruments like they're historic artifacts. Having enough of being ignored, you say, "You guys can start jamming together, perhaps?"

Han turns to look at you and with his eyes widening, he asks, "You want me to play with this?"

"Yeah."

"Are we even allowed?" Felix asks again.

"No one can hear us playing," you reply and again, not really answering his question.

"How do you know people are not going to hear us jamming in here?" Han asks.

"Uh... I just know," you answer with a grin and a shrug.

"It's soundproofed," Felix adds as he touches the lined walls behind him.

"And it's soundproofed," you repeated his words.

Han doubts that your intention to help him form a band will go according to plan but he can't resist playing the guitar and there's no harm in playing one song.

"What do you usually play?" Han asks Felix.

"Metal, death metal, post-death metal, rock, classic rock..." he lists the genre instead of telling him the band names.

Han thinks of one famous rock song widely known by people but at the same time, he wants to test how knowledgeable Felix is within the rock genre.

"Let's play Black Hole Sun," Han says to him.

Felix thinks for a while, "Soundgarden? Yeah, okay," he agrees.

Now that the guitar is slung across his shoulder and right in front of him, he feels nervous to play it. He plugged the cable that connects it to the amplifier, he's tuning it while Felix is warming up and tightening the screws on the drums.

"Woohoo!" You cheer even though they barely started yet.

Han searches for the chords first on the internet to refresh his memory and warm up his hands, "Ready?"

Felix gives him a thumbs-up in response.

Han starts playing the riff then Felix comes in right after. It's a whole new experience for him to play a song with someone or just like what you called it, jamming.

"Black hole sun, won't you come and wash away the rain?"

with no mic, Han sings as loud as he can but it's impressive how Felix stays on the beat.

"Black hole sun won't you come, won't you come..."

He's too focused on watching Felix nailing the part that leads to the end of the song that he missed a chord, but quickly recovering from it.

"Woohoo!" You cheer again and Han almost forgot that you're in the room with them.

It was thrilling and exciting, he can feel his heart pounding with the guitar still hanging around his chest.

"That was fun!" Felix says with a grin.

Han is at a loss for words, not expecting that he'll love it this much. Maybe he's meant to form a rock band like you said. He holds his hand up at him for a high-five, "Good job, man!"

Felix excitedly high-fives him with a big grin on his face, he looks much more attractive without his glasses and Han can see freckles dotted his cheeks.

You wait until he puts the guitar down to jump at him and fortunately, he's strong enough to catch you, you press a haste kiss on his lips with an exaggerated smooching sound.

"See? I told you!" You tell him before pressing another kiss with your hands around his neck.

Maybe it's the adrenaline still lingering, he kisses you so passionately and ignores that there's another person in the room.

Another person comes into the room and surprises everyone that Han immediately puts you down, "Who are you guys?"

Han glances at you and you glance at him, there's a moment passed in awkward silence, then you make up an excuse on the spot.

"We accidentally stumbled here to get some privacy, you know," you purposely slurring your words and holding on to him to imply that you're drunk.

Han plays a long and puts his hand around your waist, drooping his eyes and putting a stupid smile on his face. He seems to buy it from the way he shifts his eyes to Felix.

"And what is he doing here?" The owner of the mancave asks.

"He..." you drag the word as you think of something, "likes to watch?"

The three of you are still laughing after getting out of the house and stopping to lean against a stranger's car, composing yourselves back from what just happened.

"You said you know the owner of the house," Han says.

"I know but we're not acquainted," you defend yourself with a sly smile.

You turn to Felix and pat his shoulder, "I'm sorry for making you a perv, Lix!"

"That's alright!" He responds with a coy shrug. He's digging into his pocket jeans to pull out his car keys.

"Where do you park your car? Mine is down the block," Felix asks.

You glance at Han before looking back at Felix, "We take public transport. We're a very eco-friendly couple," you say with a sneer.

"Ah..." Felix lowly gasps, "I remember you said your boyfriend is too nervous to drive a car."

Han wonders how much work you put into the group assignment because it seems like you shared things about him a lot rather than doing that.

"Let me give you guys a drive home," Felix kindly offers with a smile.

There's nothing phony about Felix. Han has met a lot of people in his life to know when someone is only putting up a good front but not with Felix, he can tell right away that he's a genuinely kind person.

As a way to get back to you, Han runs to the passenger's side before you and shouts, "Shotgun!"

That leaves you no option but to reluctantly get into the backseat of the car.

After turning the car engine on, Felix leaves it for a while to warm up while he connects his phone to the car stereo, "You don't mind that I put on some music, right?"

Felix is so well-mannered but Han doesn't find it obnoxious, he finds it adorable instead, "It's your car, do what you want."

Once he settles on a song, he backs the car out of someone's driveway and starts driving with one hand on the steering wheel. The song starts with a one-chord guitar strum and followed by a steady bang of drums.

"I AM IRON MAN!" You and Felix shout at the same time.

You lean forward between the seats and put your hand on his shoulder, "it's Lix's favorite band, Black Sabbath."

"Yes, I know," Han says with a snide smile.

"Why aren't you singing along?" You ask, cupping his chin with your hand.

Felix is focused on looking at the road ahead to pay attention to him and how you treat him like a baby, not that he doesn't like it but he prefers not to do it in public.

"Has he lost his mind? Can he see or is he blind? Can he walk at all? Or if he moves, will he fall?" You and Felix sing at the same time.

Han is just too embarrassed to join in but he knows you won't stop teasing him until he sings. Besides that, he can see why Felix likes this band, it's the intense and fast-paced drumming. He's doing it now by tapping his steering wheel with both hands.

Han decides to join when the song gets to the second chorus, "Nobody wants him. They just turn their heads."

"Yeah!" You exclaim in satisfaction and raise your voice louder.

"Nobody helps him. Now he has his revenge," the three of you filling the space in the car with your singing.

The song reaches the climax of heavy riffs and an impeccable guitar solo that makes him feel alive as the car glides through the night.

-

Today will be the first time for Han and Felix to do a band practice together.

Felix regularly practices his drumming and he can use the studio, one of the facilities provided by the university but its use is limited in time, they can practice on Thursday and Saturday for two hours.

"We'd better get started," Han says even though he hasn't tuned his guitar yet.

Han and Felix are in the middle of playing a warm-up song when you come into the studio, carrying drinks for them in one hand. You sit in the corner and watch them until the end of the song before handing out the drinks.

"Iced Americano for the boyfriend," you say as you hand him his drink with a kiss on the cheek.

You walk up to Felix to hand his, "Super sweet latte for the drummer."

"Thank you," Felix mutters and takes a big sip of it.

"Okay, I'm going back to sit in the corner and watch you guys jamming," you say with a smile, sitting on the stool and sipping your drink through a straw.

After taking a break, Han turns to Felix to ask whether he has studied the song he wrote to start practicing it.

"Yeah, I have but I saw that it's not finished yet?" Felix asks while tightening the screws on the drums.

"Yes, I plan on working the rest of the song together with you," Han answers.

Sure, Han is capable of working on the rest of his song himself but he wants to be in a band so every decision he's making now will not be his own.

Felix is patient yet eager to learn, he has musicality that Han believes is above him but he's unaware of it. He's humble and easy to work with, he couldn't find a better partner than him.

Two hours passed without him realizing it and he almost forgot that you were there in the room until you come his way, "Can we grab dinner after this?"

Felix packs his drumming sticks into his backpack, "I second that!"

Since the practice turns out to be a great one, it's only right for him to let the good times roll.

"I'll treat dinner!" He announces and you share a celebration high-five with Felix.

-

The practice is going well but Han feels something is missing. He's reclining on the seat after finishing his meal earlier than everyone else.

"I think we need one more member," Han suddenly shares.

You stop shoving another French fry and ask, "Why? I think you guys sound great!"

Han shrugs, he can't explain it because it's just instinct, "Two-man band is not it. You know what happened to The White Stripes," he explains with an example.

Felix wipes his mouth with a napkin and gulps his cola, "but that's because they have a half-decent drummer."

Hearing Felix's comment, you put down the French fry you're about to eat and push the plate away, "Don't you dare to drag my girl, Meg White, into this!" you say with squinted eyes at Felix.

"That's just fact," Felix innocently says.

"Three things," you say and rest your back, crossing your arms in front of you before laying out the three things on why Felix is wrong.

That's one of the things Han likes about you, you're not scared to speak your mind. He knows very well that you have strong opinions about certain things, he just doesn't like it when he's on the opposite side of things.

Felix is the unlucky one to be in that position right now but Han is more than happy to watch it from the sideline.

"First, their marriage got in the way," you begin with an obvious fact there is.

"Second, Meg took the "less is more" approach and you can get more power when you have more space and give songs character," you eloquently state.

"And third, Meg's parts are full of choices most drummers wouldn't make and that what makes her a one-of-a-kind player."

When Han thinks you're done explaining, you continue while leaning forward on the table, "'Seven Nation Army' is a perfect example of how simple doesn't mean boring. How many drummers would be satisfied playing the same beat for an entire song?" You aim the question at Felix who's looking petrified sitting across the table and too afraid to speak.

"Exactly!" You say even though he doesn't say anything but you take his silence as an answer.

"It's worth sacrificing our egos for the good of music," you finally conclude.

Han can't decide if he should stop it and risk getting trampled in the process or let it be which is a safer option.

"Okay, I'm sorry," Felix stammers.

"Tell that to Meg White!" You tell him.

"Uh... I'm sorry, Meg White," Felix apologizes again.

"Good," you shortly respond and lean back to continue eating your fries, turning back into your normal self.

After making sure you're relaxed and tame, Han decides to continue the talk about looking for another member.

"Anyway..." Han lets out a sigh and uneasily glances at you to continue speaking, "I think we need a bassist."

Felix drags his cup of soda and meekly sips it through a straw, "I don't know any bassist," he says.

"I can play bass but then I can't play two instruments at once, right?" He says with a smirk.

You lean to his side and coo, "Oh, must be tiring to be so good at everything!"

He playfully kisses your lips since you're leaning so close to him and it tastes salty. You giggle as you sit back to continue eating.

Something must have popped into his head as Felix shouts, "Ah, I have a friend who plays guitar really well."

That gets his hopes up that Han feels so optimistic about it again, "Yeah?"

"But she lives abroad now so..." Felix sounded so heartbroken when he said it.

"That's very helpful, Felix," you say while stealing some fries from his plate.

Han draws a sigh but it's too early to give up now, he has just started the band and who knows he'll find a new member soon.

"We just have to keep looking then," Han says.

"Yeah, I agree," Felix responds.

"I'll help," you eagerly offer with a sweet smile at him.

He endearingly pats your head and smiles back at you, "Of course, you are," he can't help but give you a quick peck on the lips.

You're not complaining when Han is riding shotgun again, probably not letting go of the argument you had with Felix earlier. Thankfully, Felix knows how to win you over.

"As an apology to Meg White," he says and presses play on his phone.

The iconic riffs of Seven Nation Army blast through the car stereo followed by the signature thumping of Meg White's drumming.

You break into a smile and shout, "Yeah, Meg White rules!!!"

-

Once he gets the privacy in his studio apartment, Han wraps you into a tight hug and kisses you so hard that you squeal, almost running out of breath.

"You're so hot when you argue," he says with a sly smile.

You chuckle and hold him back, putting your hands around his small waist, "Oh, you want to argue with me?"

He shakes his head and says, "No, I don't want to be on the wrong side of things."

What he said implies that you're always right about things and he knows that will win your heart with it.

"Good choice!" You say.

As expected, you reward him with a long, lingering kiss that escalates things further.

Being inside you strips him away from his sanity. He's thrusting into you hard and he doesn't know how you stay so calm and composed under him.

Your eyes are wide and awake, so still that he can see his reflection in them. You're smiling as you affectionately brush his hair to the back and caress his face.

"You're fucking me so good," you tell him with an open-mouthed kiss and you know that he needed to hear that.

It feels inexplicably intimate and raw, he feels naked than he already is with the way you're staring deeply into his eyes.

"Stop looking at my sex face," he turns to look the other way.

You chuckle and turn his head to face you again, making him look you in the eyes while fucking you.

He can't lie that he's close to his high, can no longer contain his groans so he lets them spill out of his parted mouth.

"Oh, fuck..." he curses between his grunts as he launches his cock deep inside you.

You break into laughter underneath him while he's still reeling from his high and his cock still planted deep inside you.

"What's so funny, mmh?" He asks with a kiss on your jaw.

You shake your head with your hands still hanging around his neck, "Nothing."

"You're making fun of my sex face, huh?" He says with eyes closed.

You don't answer but keep laughing even after he collapses onto the bed next to you, "Stop laughing!"

That doesn't stop you from laughing, he crawls over and puts his body on top of you, pressing a kiss to stop you from laughing.

It's a fruitless effort that you're still chuckling when he lets go of the kiss, "I hate you."

He presses a hard kiss on your mouth again and with a conflicted feeling he says, "But the sex was so good I can't hate you."

When he returns from the bathroom, he sees you already dressed in his t-shirt and lying on your side of the bed with your eyes closed.

He dives right into your arms with his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck, he puts your hands around him just how he likes it.

From the way your hand slips into his hair and softly scratches at it, he knows that you're still awake.

"So, how did it feel playing your song for the first time?" You ask.

A lot has happened in the last 24 hours but it's mostly good, practicing his song and getting to hear how it turns out is a feeling he can't describe.

What's important is this feels right to him, it feels like it's meant to be.

"It feels... amazing," he says with a dreamy sigh.

You hum in answer and place a soft kiss on the top of his head, "I just know that you're going to be great."

Your faith in him is unwavering and he starts to believe that forming a rock band of his dreams is possible and that he can create great things with this band.

"You know, Nirvana has this secret track called Sappy," you suddenly share with your voice low and sleepy.

"It's a great song and I wish that a lot of people know about this song," you say.

You pause to take a breath and quietly exhale it, "but at the same time, I want to gatekeep it."

You lift your head and search for his eyes to say, "That's you."

Han lifts his head to hover above you, putting inches between your faces, "You're saying I'm Sappy?" He jokingly says.

You sleepily smile and lick your lips before talking, "I want the world to know how great you are with your songwriting, your music, your wit, your unfunny jokes..."

He glares at you, feeling offended that you think his jokes are not funny.

"But at the same time, I want to keep it for you myself," you say with eyes that shine and show how honest you are with what you said.

It's a heartwarming analogy and he understands the sentiment in it. He hasn't shown all of his yet but you talk about his greatness like they're written in stones. Han appreciates you more for saying that and seeing through all of his shortcomings and weaknesses and unfunny jokes.

The sound of you calling his name, your laugh, your smile, your low snores, and everything that comes out of your mouth. Those are his favorite songs.

He places a soft kiss on your lips and murmurs, "You are my favorite song."

As much as he wants you to share your greatness with the world, Han wants to keep you for himself.

-

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[chatterbox-73]

Kinktober 2024.

Day 16 - Size Difference.

Erwin Smith x fem!Reader

This story is a smut story for Kinktober, I’ll be writing more characters x reader one shots for Kinktober and if you want to see a character please let me know...

You must be 18 years or older to read this...

🔞⚠️NO MINORS ALLOWED⚠️🔞

A/n: H/L/N = husband’s last name.

This is also a repost.

Summary: you rush into marriage and now your stuck with a lousy husband, however once you get recruited as an on-site nurse for the survey corps you get to know commander Smith very well

Word count: 3.3k

CW: NSFW and adult content, size difference, cheating, fingering, y/n has a lousy husband, slightly catching feelings, mention of blood, rough sex, unprotected sex, pull out, implied squirting, belly bulge and slightly commander kink.

You were never one of those little girls that wanted to get married and have kids, but here you were. You settled and got married young, you didn’t love your husband, you weren’t satisfied with your husband, the man wasn’t even your type. However thanks to some frightening life lessons from your old sister, you rushed into marriage and now stuck with probably the most boorish, narrow-minded and egocentric man in the walls.

“We have guests coming over tonight, so prepare extra” your husband demanded as he walked up behind you and rubbed a hand over your butt, before giving it a light squeeze, “alright, who’s coming? So I can prepare something they’ll like” you asked, trying to play the happy little wife and stopping yourself from recoiling from his touch, “honestly it doesn’t matter it’s just a couple of soldiers… so make anything, just a lot of it” he spoke flatly before he walked to his study.

You had finished making the meal and had now began to set the table, while you waited for the guests to arrive. As you set out the final plate of food you heard a knock on the door, “y/n, hurry up and get the door” you husband yelled from his office, you rolled your eyes and answer the door. You were then met with the three commanding officers of the military regiments.

Nile Dok, commander of the Military Police.

Dot Pixis, commander of the Garrison.

And finally, Erwin Smith, commander of the Scout Regiment.

It took you a second to come to grips with what you were seeing, at first you thought your idiot husband, must have gotten into some kind of trouble with the Military Regiments, however if he had, soliders wouldn’t be so civil as to knock on the door, they’d just kick it in and rush the building.

After snapping out of your minor panic, you gestured for the men to come in, “come in… you’re right on time, I just finished setting the table… be sure wipe your boots on the door matt” you stepped aside and let all the men pass through, “straight down, second door on the left” you instructed as you closed the front door.

All the men made their way into the dining room and you told them to make themselves comfortable while you went and retrieved your husband.

When you return to dining room with your husband in toe, you found the three men looking at the small hand carved statues and the landscape paintings, that you had created in all your spare time at home once you got married.

After marrying your current husband, he demanded you to quit your job as a nurse and become the home body, and so to pass the time you began wood carving and paint.

“Sorry if you find those unsightly, my wife picked up the hobby as a way to pass time” your husband quipped, before side eyeing and silently asking you ‘why you didn’t put them away’, however you just ignored him and walked over the the eldest man of the three, who was holding a small white horse that had a black spot over its eye, that you had caved a few weeks ago, “do you like it?” You asked with a smile, the man nodded “yes, my grandson loves horses but we’ve had some difficulty finding toys he likes” Pixis went to place the horse down, “you can keep it if you’d like, I’m not save these figures from anything special” you said, before quickly taking out a handkerchief out of your apron pocket and wrapped the small figure in it, then passed it back to the man.

“Well we should start eating before the food goes cold” you smile and walk over to the table.

You sat and listen to the men conversant as you all ate, however the topic of why the sudden visit hadn’t been brought up yet and you felt yourself becoming impatient.

“If I may impose, but what was the reason for this sudden visit” you look between the three soldiers, “oh right, of course… you see we’re here to request your’s and your husband’s services in the Military’s medical unit” spoke Nile.

Both you and your husband looked shocked, but for two very different reasons “I’m sorry, I was under the impression my wife would have no part in this, she’s not even in service anymore” your husband said sternly, and you glared at him.

“Well that’s correct, however we looked through her medical reports and were also made aware of the short amount of time she spent in the training crops before she moved on to be a nurse” Pixis stated, and your husband snapped his head towards you.

You could see the displeasure in his eyes, “you were apart of the training crops?” He raised a questioning brow and you nodded, “for how long?” He asked condescendingly, like he believed you were dropped from the training crops, “about two years” you answered and then looked to the three man, “so where do you need us?” You smiled.

Pixis shifted uncomfortably before answering, “we’ll place you, Dr. H/L/N in Orvud District of wall sheena, and you, Mrs. H/L/N will be placed mostly in Trost District of wall Rose” he looked from you to your husband, “why won’t me and my wife be working together” your husband stated. “Unfortunately there’s only limited spots in the Orvud District’s medical unit and your wife’s skills are more suited to be with the survey corps, however if you’d like to join her in Trost District, your welcome to” Nile spoke and your husband looked to you, almost begging you to reject the offer so he could work in the inner walls without looking like a horrible husband for leaving you to work in a lesser and more dangerous area, “why don’t you take the job in Orvud District?” You asked with a smile.

Your husband smiled back at you, “because dear, I can’t leave you with the survey corps that’s dangerous” he held your hand, “I’m sure I’ll be fine, besides it’d be good to get some extra money to put in our savings, it’d help when we decide to have a baby” you smiled and place your other hand over top of his.

The way you spoke made it seem like everything was your idea and you were the one who wanted your husband to work in wall Sheena, however you really couldn’t care less where he was or wasn’t, but it was always easier on you to make him look like the good guy.

You weren’t sure if the other men could tell what you were doing, nor did you care, but your husband definitely appreciated it.

The rest of the night went fairly smooth, both you and your husband signed agreement forms and got information sheets about the days you’d be picked up and your tasks in the regiments you were assigned to.

Then came the day, you had a bag packed and you were picked up earlier in the morning by carriage, you said your goodbyes and got in.

Once getting into the carriage, you sat down across from Erwin and watched as he knock on the roof to signal the drive you were ready to leave.

The ride was relatively quiet until Erwin finally spoke, “we didn’t get to talk much at the dinner but the meal was lovely” he said and you smiled, “thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it” you blushed, Erwin was a very handsome man and there was no denying that, he was your ideal type of guy, and everything your husband was not.

“So why did you drop out of the training corps? You were doing excellently, judging by the class reports we went through” Erwin held a curious expression in his eyes and you shook your head “I feel like I’d save more lives in medicine rather then in the survey corps ‘fighting for freedom’… no offence” you watched as Erwin chuckled at your words, his laugh was so hot… what were you thinking, your a married woman, you may not be happy but your marriage nonetheless.

“So what will I be doing when we get there” you asked, “well first, you’ll be given a uniform, I’ll take you to the training ground to see where you need improvement and then we’ll both write up a timetable, that will have your training times and your clinic times so you can take clients then” Erwin explained “so unfortunately for you, we’ll be spending a lot of time together” he smiled, and you chuckled, “I guess I’m lucky you’re so easy on the eye, commander Smith” you flirt and then mentally scold yourself.

You were all sweaty, hot and out of breath as you stood on a large tree branch, “are you alright?” Erwin asked as he stepped onto the same branch effortlessly “yeah, I guess I’m just a really out of shape” you chuckled and lean on the trunk of the tree, “you look like your in great shape” the man smiled and gave your body a once over, before you thanked him.

You both took off your ODM gear before moving on to hand to hand combat, you could tell Erwin was pulling his punch’s and that was until you got him right in the nose and he stumbled back a bit.

You when in for another hit, however Erwin grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him, then pushing you to the ground and pinned your hands behind your back, you look up at him and noticed he was bleeding.

“Oh my god, your bleeding” you struggle out of his grip and get up to look at his nose, “we should go inside its too dark out here to tell if it’s broken or not” you said in a panic and Erwin chuckled, “it doesn’t feel broken” you frowned at him, “yes but it could be” you pull him to his feet and drag him to the office you were assigned earlier that day.

You sat the large man on the chair and dabbed at his face, after cleaning any blood off his face you felt his nose to check if it was broken, luckily it wasn’t and so you gave him some tissues paper and told him to hold his nose until the blooding stop.

“Well I guess now is probably the best time to start working on your timetable” Erwin said as he wiped off any remaining blood from his face, “I guess your right” you said as you got some paper, ink and dip pens from a draw in your desk.

It didn’t take too long for you and Erwin to complete the timetable, Erwin also wrote a information sheet stating what services you offer and if the soldiers had any questions then to come and asked you, at the appropriate times of course.

You copied the sheet a few times and posted them in popular areas in the survey corps headquarters, like inside the barracks and in the dining hall.

It had been a week since you started working and you had requested for everyone to do a mandatory physical exam, you had started off with the young soldiers, then moved to the older soldiers and then finally to the captains and commanders of the regiment. There was a harsh knock on your door, “just a moment I have to finish up with someone” you called as you jotted Moblit’s height, weight and any physical markers you spotted while doing his exam.

“Are you ready to leave?” You asked Moblit as he slipped on his boot and he nodded, you opened the door to reveal a small grumpy man, “oh captain Levi, I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow” you smiled and ushered him in and let Mobile out, you shut the door.

“Yeah Erwin said that he was busy and asked if I could deliver the message” Levi’s frown deepened, “well while you’re here I can do your exam, if you’re comfortable?” You asked and the man nodded.

You went on with Levi’s exam, and the man was in top physical condition, took down everything you requested and asked him to dress, “while you dress I’m going to shout out some questions, please answer honestly” you said and began with your questions.

The sun began to set and by now Levi’s exam was over, you walked him out of you office and found Erwin standing across the hallway waiting for you to finish, Levi ‘tsk’ when he saw Erwin and then disappeared down the hallway.

“Oh my, I didn’t expect you here, I thought you were busy” you smiled and over the short amount of time you worked here, you’ve begun to feel for Erwin, his just so kind and handsome.

“Yeah, I finished all my work and figured if you ain’t too tired you’d be able to do my physical exam, or at least reschedule it” Erwin smiled sheepishly, “sure come in” you stepped aside and let the large blonde in, “I’ll do your examination today, please disrobe and place this towel around you” you lead him to an area with a curtain and you handed him a towel, “once your done disrobing, sit on that bed” you said and starting gathering some paper and placing it on a clipboard.

You almost dropped the clipboard as you watched Erwin sit on the bed, pulling yourself together you begin the exam with checking his ears, eyes, nose, mouth and head. “That looks all good now I need to take some measurements” you say and gestures for him to stand up, you take out your measuring tape and kick a little stepping stool over to him, for you to stand on while measuring him.

You start with Erwin’s arms, you had to fight the urge to squeeze his large muscles, but you finally managed to take length and then circumference and by god you nearly cream yourself at the width of his biceps, you then moved on to his chest measurements, your first instinct was to run your nails down his extremely broad chest and lick up his chiselled stomach, you tried with all your might to not give into your temptations, however you won’t so lucky, subconsciously you leaned in huffed in his delicious musk, while letting your finger trail down his front, tracing his abs and deep v cut, and once you realised what you did, you stepped off the stool and moved back from the man.

“I’m so sorry commander Smith, I don’t know what came over me” you said with a red face, you were obviously lying, you wanted Erwin more then anything but you were a married woman and although you didn’t love or care for your husband, you were above cheating… you think… “it’s fine, I understand, you miss your husband… it gets quite lonely here, doesn’t it?” Erwin asked take a few steps forward causing you to take a few steps back, until you bumped into the desk.

“Look at me and honestly tell me you don’t want this, if so I’ll get dressed and leave, but if you can’t…” Erwin stood over you, he grabbed your face and made you look at him, “and if I can’t?” You question and Erwin chuckled, “I’ll fuck you silly” you swallowed.

“If I’m being honest I want you, but about my husband?” You asked as you maintained eye contact, “and what about him, what he doesn’t know won’t kill him” Erwin picked you up effortlessly and walked you over to the bed, before lying you down.

You laid on your back naked moaning, shadowed by Erwin’s figure, as he pumped two thick finger in and out of you, while rubbing your clit with his thumb and quickly worked you over the edge.

Erwin pulled his fingers out of you “you should be ready for me” he pulled you towards him, so your ass was just on the edge of the bed and place his length on your mons pubis, before pushing his hips to meet yours and this aloud him to measure his length against you.

Erwin lifted his member off you and poked just under your bellybutton “this is where you’re gonna feel me baby” Erwin smirked as you blushed and told him to stop being like that. Erwin pulled back and began to rub the tip of his lofty manhood against your folds.

You moan at the way he teased you, “just put it in, I’m desperate commander” you whines and you then felt two of Erwin’s finger spread you lower lips apart before pushing his throbbing tip in you.

You gasped at the painful discomfort that came with the unnatural stretch, even your first time wasn’t this painful.

“It hurts… it- it hur- hurts” you cried as you grabbed the bed in a death like grip, Erwin gave you all the time you needed to adjust to him and once your cries of pain turned into whines of pleasure he then slowly pushed more of himself in, you cried out loudly and arched your back as his cock came to the hilt, you heard him groan as he placed a hand on your lower stomach, “shit you need to see this” Erwin said through grit teeth.

You looked down at his hand and watched as he lifted it, there you saw a bulge in your belly and you brought your hands down to it, then began to rub it.

“Mmmm so full” you moaned looking up at Erwin and suddenly the man started thrusting in and out of you, keeping your hand on your lower stomach you felt Erwin’s girthy erection drag against you tight walls, “it feels so good Erwin” you breathed out between moans. Erwin grabbed your hips and pulled you into his rough thrust, you reached out to grab his arms as you gasped out in an attempt to stop him and when you finally got a hold of his arms it just gave Erwin more leverage in his brutal pace.

When you dug your nails into Erwin’s biceps, he left you off the bed and tangled a hand into your hair, before pulling back on it causing your back to bend.

In this new position Erwin pace never slowed it just got harder and deeper, you put your face in the crook of his neck to muffle you pleads and cries.

Erwin felt you tightening around him and grunted, “you gonna cum for your commander? Huh baby?” He placed you back on the bed and roughly gripped your hips, while leaving his pace unchanging.

You nodded as the knot in your stomach tightened and your the pressure in you throbbing cunt became unbearable, just as you began to cum on Erwin’s thick cock, he quickly pulled out of you and you suddenly feel all that pressure in the cunt release in a gush, “fucking hell, baby” you heard Erwin moan and you felt warm liquid spurt onto you.

You laid on the bed with your eyes closed and panting for a while, until Erwin’s hands wiped you down with the towel.

“I know this wasn’t your first time, but there’s some blood here, is that normal?” Erwin asked as he started dressing you, you nodded “yeah, you were just too rough with me” you whine at the pain.

You were then scoop up in Erwin arms and he carried you across the room to the door on the other side of the room, which leads to your private quarters.

Erwin lays you down in bed and sat on the bed until you feel asleep.

When you woke the next morning you noticed a note on the pillow next to you, as you reached to get it you could feel a sharp ache all over your body, but most notably in your hips and lower back.

You read the note and it stated that Erwin requested the clinic be closed today because you were having a day off, after you finished reading, you dropped the note and went back to sleep, to hopefully rest off the pain.

Kinktober Masterlist

Day 15 - Jiraiya: Seeing red.

Day 17 - Asahi Azumane: A/B/O.

[chaoticsimp]

Sweet Dreams

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18+ | MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Relationship: Aizawa X Reader (NSFW)

Content Warnings: NSFW/18+, praise, light dirty talk, oral (female receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, begging, a dash of overstim?, established relationship (between Aizawa and reader).

A/N: Please let me know if I missed any. This is my first time writing smut so I'm still learning!

Summary: After years of being inactive you agree to a new mission. With the nerves creeping in, your partner (Aizawa) does what he can to help you relax.

Word Count: 2103

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It wasn’t often you accepted an assignment. You were happy to hang up your cape and raise the heroes of tomorrow. It felt like a lifetime ago that you’d spent years patrolling the streets, working in covert operations that had you shrouded in secrecy. It made it difficult to earn the respect of your students. So few had heard of your hero name and yet by the end of the first semester, you easily became a class favourite. You loved being a teacher. So, when Detective Tsukauchi reached out for your talents it surprised you how easy it was to say yes.

“You should be asleep.” You jumped at the voice and scrambled to gather the papers on the table.

“So should you.” You sighed, and you stopped trying to hide the papers having already been caught. You looked up to find Aizawa leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his bare chest, grey sweatpants hung off his hips and his tired eyes were on you. You briefly wondered how long he’d been silently standing there.

“I couldn’t sleep,” You admitted, although it was obvious. “The missions starts tomorrow, I-I guess I’m more nervous than I thought.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Aizawa had asked this more than once, but the question felt like it held more weight tonight. He moved closer to you, taking your hand in his and you knew he was also worried but didn’t want to make his worries your own.

“Yes. All-Might trusts Detective Tsukauchi, and I trust All-Might.” It was a response Aizawa had grown familiar with.

“You know, I could use the help of a certain Underground Hero.”

“And who would be left to watch my lousy kids? You could barely substitute for them,” He reminded.

“It’s hard to pull that icy glare you’ve perfected,” You teased earning an eye roll in response.

“If only they knew how intimidating you could be.” You smiled and looked back to the notes littering the dining table.

“I’m just going to go over it one more time, then I’ll…” Your words failed you when Aizawa hooked his finger under your chin, and he tilted your head to face him. Your heart sped up as his thumb ran across your lower lip.

“It’s late,” He reminded.

“I just want to be prepared,” You countered.

“Then let me help.”

Aizawa dropped his mouth to yours. The kiss was slow and sleepy, his lips were warm against yours and the slight taste of mint toothpaste had you thinking he had planned this all along. He made you stand, his mouth leaving yours to expertly hit the spots on your neck that made your breath hitch. He moved at a leisurely pace – his hands skimmed under the shirt of his you had on and found purchase on your hips. You were suddenly very aware of what little clothes you had on as Aizawa lowered to his knees. He took his hands from your hips and slipped the hairband off your wrist.

“What are you…” You felt the heat in your cheeks grow as you watched Aizawa pull back his hair, securing it in a low bun before he moved closer. You didn’t need to ask what was next as he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder and you steadied yourself by grabbing the edge of the table.

“Sh-Shota maybe we should-” Your request was interrupted when he pressed a soft kiss against your clothed cunt.

“Maybe we should…?” Aizawa’s words vibrated through your core and your nails dug into the table in anticipation as he pulled your panties to the side.

“We-We should go…go to the…” Aizawa dipped his tongue between your folds, and you shuddered a breath as you leaned into the table. His fingers dug into the thigh draped over his shoulder and you released the table with one hand to grip his hair when he pulled back. He pressed warm kisses against your thigh, and you gasped as he sucked and gently bit at your skin.

“You know I don’t like when you don’t finish your sentences,” He teased, and you almost laugh. A quick retort held behind your teeth because as much as you wanted to tease back, you wanted his face lost between your plush thighs even more.

“We should go to the bedroom,” You finally gasped. His scruff rubbed against your sensitive skin, sending chills up your back and you briefly met his gaze as he tilted his head up.

“You want me to stop?” You quickly shook your head no. You never wanted him to stop, you were addicted to him, and he knew it. The moment he put up his hair, you were a goner, and all thoughts of the mission slipped away as you used your hand in his hair to tug him closer.

“Eager, aren’t we?” He asked the question as if he hadn’t been the one to kneel before you first. You didn’t respond, and Aizawa decided not to make you beg as he licked your clit. It was late – the minutes felt like seconds, and he wanted to savour every moment. Your head fell back, Aizawa always knew exactly what you needed. He had turned eating you out into a skill, one he had mastered. He knew where to apply pressure, and just when to slow down and speed up. He knew how to make your head spin, and your thighs trembled when he curled two fingers into you.

“Sh-Shota.” Your moans were like a song, and Aizawa couldn’t get enough. The table slid a little as you pushed your weight into it, your back arched and your lips parted as he wrapped his mouth around your bundle of nerves.

“Fuck,” You gasped, and your hand jerked in Aizawa’s hair as his fingers found your sweet spot. You could almost feel him smirking against your skin as your walls fluttered around him, and that familiar coil began to tighten in your stomach. You rolled your hips, and he knew to move his fingers quicker.

“Don’t stop. Please, please just like that,” You whined as you drew closer to the edge. His fingers felt too good, and his lips suctioned around your clit just right.

“Sho, I-I’m-” You couldn’t get the words out as you tipped over the edge. Your toes curled, your thighs shook around his head and your hold on his hair became painfully tight as your orgasm crashed over you. He didn’t stop until you were done, until your back lowered and you rested your weight against the table. His fingers left you first and you slowly released your hold on his hair as his stubble tickled your thigh.

“Good girl,” He mumbled against your skin. You looked down at him as he gently lowered your leg, your balance uneven and you felt a slight twinge in your back from the edge of the table as Aizawa pulled it back into place. He wiped his mouth with his free hand and before you could say anything he lifted you onto the table.

“One more.” He pressed a kiss beneath your ear, and the papers on the table crinkled as he pushed you to your back.

“Just one more and I’ll give you everything,” He promised. All you could do was nod as he repositioned himself between your legs. He hoisted up your thighs, his hands beneath your knees as he spread you open. Your legs trembled in his hands as he ran his cock through your folds, coating it in your slick.

“Shota,” You whined.

“Patience,” He replied, but you couldn’t be sure if he was speaking to you or to himself. Aizawa let out an uneven breath as he slowly sunk into you, his grip on your thighs prevented you from moving closer forcing you to endure his drawn-out pace.

“So tight,” He breathed as he pushed himself to the hilt and paused. You tried to wiggle your hips, but his iron grip held as he met your pleading eyes.

“Patience," He repeated, and your eyes clamped shut as he pulled out slower than he had entered. You could have cried as he drew out each thrust, his hips moved in that slow methodical rhythm again, and again, and again. The coil in your stomach had already begun to retighten as he pushed your knee's back a little more and thrusted into you a little deeper.

"Shota, please," You begged. At this point, you'd do anything to have him speed up even a millisecond.

“Look at me,” He demanded, and you managed to meet his gaze through your lashes. Part of him wanted to give in, spoil you like you deserved but the other was lingering on every pant and moan that escaped your lips. It was the part of him that wanted to draw this out and relished in the way your body moved in response to his slightest adjustments. You took him so well, and if he could burn the image of you beneath him behind his eyelids he would.

“Good girl,” He whispered the praise against your calf.

“So, fucking good for me.” Aizawa hooked his arms under your legs, and you lifted yourself up from the table as he pulled you into him. Your arms wrapped around his neck as he boosted you up, using the edge of the table for stability and angling you just enough to hit that sweet spot with every thrust. 

“M-More,” Your plea is barely audible.

“What was that?” He grunted.

“More, more, more,” Your pleas hit his ear again and it made Aizawa’s hips stutter, briefly breaking his steady pace. Aizawa loved your intelligence, loved your way with words. He had watched you handle the press, students, and parents with unparalleled grace, but there was something that stirred deep inside him when he was able to turn your mind to putty, to reduce you to one-worded sentences.

“Go ahead.” For once he doesn’t make you beg more than you already had. He doesn’t take you to the edge and keep you there for however long he cared to, and you found yourself babbling thanks as one of your hands left his neck to draw circles on your clit.

“Fuck,” Aizawa breathed. He could feel you tighten around him, sucking him in so beautifully as he bounced you on his cock. Your skin was like fire against his and it was a warmth he already found himself missing.

“Sho, I-”

“Cum for me.” It was all you needed to tip you over the edge again. That coil snapped as your body tightened and your second orgasm washed over you, flooding your senses with ecstasy. Aizawa turned his head to watch you as you came, memorizing your beautiful face. Your end brought him to his own as he gave one final deep thrust and filled you as well as he always did.

“I love you,” He whispered between pants, his lips pressed gentle kisses to your cheek and neck to help you land from your high.

“I love you,” He repeated, burning the words into your skin. Aizawa was always one to show love rather than say it, but with you leaving he wanted the words to ring in your head for the weeks to come. Aizawa set you back on the table when he felt your body begin to relax, he let down your legs and you released a blissful sigh as he pulled out of you. Your hands pushed back the hair that clung to his face, and you kissed him so sweetly he thought he would break.

“It’s going to be okay,” You assured him, stroking over his stubble as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“It’s going to be okay,” He repeated, assuring himself just as much as he was trying to assure you. You smiled, your smile turning into laughter as he scooped you into his arms.

“Now will you sleep?” He asked as he carried you to the bedroom. You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before resting your head against his shoulder.

“Yes,” You promised. Aizawa lowered you to the bed first before crawling over to his side, he pulled the blanket over the both of you. His arms opened as your head found its way to his chest, and you listened to his heartbeat as he wrapped you in a snug embrace. He pressed a final kiss to the top of your head and your eyelids grew heavy as you fell into a peaceful sleep in the arms of the man you loved.

[missredherring]

For A Good Time Call... Tommy

Tommy Miller x Fat!F!Reader

Rating: R

Word Count: 3k.

Warnings: smoking. bad date and sex(off screen).

Contents: pwp. strangers to lovers. fingering. dirty talk. one butt smack. protected piv sex.

Summary: He doesn’t do anything else for a moment, just takes you in, blowing out smoke through his nose in a steady stream. You guess this is to let you have the chance to change your mind and leave, only a smoke shared between you and nothing more. It’s nice, but there’s no way you’re letting him go now. With your free hand you slip your fingers behind his belt buckle, grinning when the muscles of his stomach jump at the touch of your cold fingers, and tug him to you with the thing.

A/N: This is entirely the fault of that photoshoot with Gabriel Luna. Hot damn. This is the first part of a 3 part series. It isn't my main writing focus right now and will be worked on whenever the horny horny inspiration strikes.

Thank you so much to @boliv-jenta and @prolix-yuy for beta reading!

Part One - Part Two - Part Three

You see it scrawled on the side of the bar’s bathroom stall while you're cleaning up from a disappointing fuck. There's a hint of wetness between your legs, but nowhere near the amount there should be if he'd been any good. 

It catches your eye as you lean back and take a deep breath.

"For a good time call..." 

The sentence is left hanging, but a few names and numbers fill in the space around it. The names "Joel" and "Tommy" have a truly teen-worthy amount of hearts around them. There's even a nicely veined cock shooting cum over a dripping pussy. It is beautifully artistic and there’s even some cross hatching in the shading. 

You shiver as the night air envelopes you. The temperature had dropped while you were inside, and while it had been a little chilly when you’d stepped out only wearing your dress, now it’s downright cold. Being fat helps with the issue of bringing a coat on a night out, but it only goes so far. Your nipples pebble, goosebumps raising on your arms, and you let out a scoff when the fucking air does what your lousy date couldn’t.

Do you even want to try again tonight, or just go home? You get your phone out and swipe through to your apps, staring at them and playing a game of this or that. Uber or Tinder, sleep or the chance of someone else getting you off. You’re about to just close your eyes and pick one when you hear cursing off to the side. Glancing up you see a large figure hunched over. His hands are up around his mouth, cupping the end of an unlit cigarette as he tries to get his lighter to work. You watch him for a few seconds, listening to the winding of the friction wheel and his muttered curses as fire continues to elude him. 

“Hey,” you call over to him. “I’ll trade you a light for a cig.”

He straightens up and squints at you through the dark. There are more lights here than other side alleys, but they make the shadows even deeper. It’s a moody contrast that casts darkness over his face and body, making his white shirt glow. He shifts his weight on his back foot and looks you up and down. You don’t try to disguise the way your thighs jiggle with each step, or how the strap of your purse bisects your breasts, pulling the fabric taut over them to emphasize their movement, free of the bra you left at home. 

"Is that a good trade on my end?" he asks, interest and a southern drawl in his voice.

"It is if you wanna smoke that and not just look at it." You nod to his cigarette.

Up close you can make out more details: a thin white t-shirt tucked into dark wash jeans, covered by a coat with a fluffy sherpa lining. A silver belt buckle sits on his waist and matches his silver necklace laying on his chest. You follow the chain up, bringing your attention to his thick neck and the wild black curls that cover the back of it. His hair is just short enough to keep from calling it shaggy. He’s even got a neat mustache, goatee, and a little patch of hair right under his full bottom lip. On any other guy the whole look would be too much, but damnit does he look fucking gorgeous. 

He nods and you put your phone away when you fish out the little book of matches you’d swiped from the bar before leaving. 

It only takes two strikes for the match to light and then he’s leaning over you, cupping your hands now with his to protect the flame from any stray breeze. He inhales and the burning end of his cigarette flares. The light of the small flame illuminates his face and you find that his dark eyes are watching you. Gorgeous man. He takes the cigarette from between his lips and offers it to you.

“This’s m’last one, but I don’t mind sharin’ with a pretty lady,” he says, pursing his lips to the side and blowing a stream of smoke away from you. You feel the damp spots from his mouth on the filter when you put it between your lips. 

The opportunity to spend time with a pretty man soothes any annoyance at missing out on a full smoke, so you turn and mirror the way he’s leaning up against the wall.

“I saw you in the bar earlier, with your date,” he says. “I’m guessing it didn’t go well?”

You roll your eyes and give him a telling look. “Yep. Conversation was shit and he left me high and dry after he got what he wanted.”

“That ain’t right. Y’should never leave a lady wantin’.” He clicks his tongue. “I’m Tommy, by the way.”

You give him your name along with the cigarette and when he smiles at you laughter lines bloom around his eyes. Fuck.

The cigarette passes between you, each polite enough not to let it burn too much before handing it back, and his eyes watch your mouth as you smoke. You’re not any better: slipping your fingers around his more than necessary to give him the cigarette and admiring how his broad chest moves as his lungs expand.

The combined cold in the air and the wall behind you is enough to make you shiver, your hand trembling as you hold out the cigarette. Tommy takes it and bites it between his teeth so gently that there’s only the shallow suggestion of an indent on the filter. Another shiver creeps over you, your nipples tightening at the thought of one of them between his teeth instead. 

“My ma’d kick my ass if she knew how long it took me to offer you my coat.” He mumbles when you hesitate, too caught up in the sudden vision of your tit in his mouth and the answering clench of lust in your gut. Thankfully your own manners kick in and take over.

"Won't you be cold?" you ask even as you shimmy into the coat. The sherpa feels a little scratchy on your bare skin, but the hem hugs your hips in just the right way and the transferred body heat feels so good. 

"Want to make another trade?" he asks, getting closer. Your eyebrows raise: he's already given you the coat. 

"For what?" God, you hope it’s sex. 

"Body heat," he says. 

“Fuck. Yes.” 

The cigarette is almost down to the filter now and Tommy offers you the last of it. You take it, keeping eye contact with him as you try to inhale quickly, sharply, as to only burn a little more and leave him with the cigarette’s dying breath. It’s tucked between your pointer and middle finger when you hand it over, but he doesn’t take it. Instead he holds your wrist so gently in his big hand and brings your hand to his mouth. His breath is warm as it brushes over the sensitive skin of your inner wrist before the inhale. His lips curl around the filter and his mustache brushes over your finger.

One last flare and it’s finished, the little light passing between you extinguished. You let it drop and with a twist of his boot, Tommy grinds it into the asphalt. The movement brings him that much closer and you only remember he still has your hand when he brings it up again, this time to the back of his neck. A squeeze tells you to keep it there, so you do, eagerly tangling your hand in his hair. You can tell there’s a bit of product in it, but it’s still soft and thick. Perfect for pulling. 

He doesn’t do anything else for a moment, just takes you in, blowing out smoke through his nose in a steady stream. You guess this is to let you have the chance to change your mind and leave, only a smoke shared between you and nothing more. It’s nice, but there’s no way you’re letting him go now. With your free hand you slip your fingers behind his belt buckle, grinning when the muscles of his stomach jump at the touch of your cold fingers, and tug him to you. 

“Shit,” he says, and kisses you.

Kissing is great, it can be anything and everything you want. Another form of communication to bring people together in better understanding, but you don’t want that tonight. And you tell him so with your impatient tongue and the sharp points of your teeth. You devour him with long licks, small nips, and gulping breaths. 

Bless him, Tommy doesn’t hesitate either. His hands are on your body doing a fine job of warming you up under his coat. He grips your hips and you’re pleased when he doesn’t skip over the rolls of your sides, kneading and pressing his fingers in as he brings them up to your breasts. He moans into your mouth when he cups them and only feels hard nipples pressing into his palm under the thin fabric of your dress. You give a good squeeze of his hair, tugging at the roots just a little, and are rewarded with another moan. He catches a nipple between his fingers, gives a squeeze of his own, and you give the moan right back. Another thing passing between you in the cool air of the night. 

Another bruising kiss, tongues sliding together, sloppy and eager, before you let your hands explore. No matter where you touch, he’s all muscles under hot skin. Down from his neck to his shoulders, and over the curve of his shoulder with a drag of your nails. There’s a suggestion of softness at his stomach, a hint of roundness at his hips, and you dig your fingers into them, delight and desire shooting along your nerves when he bucks and presses into your touch again and again. 

Tommy tears his mouth away from yours, his bottom lip caught in between your teeth. 

“That asshole left you hungry for cock, huh, baby? That why you’re tryna take a bite outta me?” he says, taking in lungfuls of air. Knowing you’re the cause of his heaving chest is just another rush. 

"Are you gonna do what he couldn't and get me off? Or do I need to find someone else? You gotta brother? Think he could fuck me right?" you ask, only half joking. He’s right: you’re hot and hungry and not going home disappointed tonight. 

"Don't ask him. He already acts like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders." He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head.

"I just want to know if they'll take the weight of my thighs." You move his hands from your chest to the dimpled skin of your thighs, exposed by the short hem of your dress. His hot hands burn as they travel up and follow the hemline around to cup your wide ass and squeeze. 

"I can handle you just fine," He groans when he slips a hand between your legs to palm your mound and finds that you aren't wearing any underwear. His fingers swipe through your lips, making you tilt your hips to chase them. "See? Feels like you're gettin' nice and wet for me."

"Shut up and make me come, Tommy." 

"Yes, ma'am."

Tommy knows when to get to work, you’ll say that for him. He’s completely focused on you: the way your hips roll into his touch, the way your expression shifts when he changes angles, the noises you don’t bother to swallow when he switches the rhythm of his stroking fingers. It’s so good, and just what you wanted tonight. He nuzzles under your chin, tilting your head back to give him better access to your neck and leaves sucking kisses there on his way to your chest. 

A quick tap of his boot against your shoes has you widening your stance for him. “That’s it, baby,” he says, and uses his free hand to scoop your heavy breasts out of the dress, the neckline keeping them pressed together. 

He’s biting at them now with quick nips of his teeth, following the stings with swipes of his flattened tongue. Paired with rolls of his thumb and a thrust of his fingers, your muscles tighten and your orgasm is so close, you can taste it, lingering on your tongue with the taste of Tommy and tobacco. 

“Fuck. Just like that, Tommy. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.” 

He doesn’t. He doesn’t stop and you’re coming all over his hand, clutching his fingers as you ride out your orgasm. But you know your body better than anyone else and keep going. It’s right there, hidden in the waves of aftershock. 

“Don’t stop,” you say again, letting go of his torso to reach back up for his head. He comes willingly, mouth open and tongue ready for you as you pull him down for a kiss. You cover his hand, still inside you, with your own and press your fingers in with his own, moaning at the stretch and thrusting your hips again. Just a little more, your thumb circling your clit just right, and you come again. 

“Christ, Christ,” Tommy pants. “My fingers ain’t enough for you, are they? You need my cock too?” He’s crowding you into the wall now, no more room between you. His hot body feels like it’s on fire where it’s pressed against you. 

“I want it,” you say, nodding and knocking your forehead into his. “Are you gonna be good for me and give it to me, Tommy?”

“Fuck. Yes.” He echoes you with a grin. You kiss him again because you can and push at his chest, laughing when he stumbles back. Shrugging off his coat enough to take your purse from around your torso - if he’s as good with his dick as he is his fingers, you don’t want the distraction of it bouncing on you - you pluck out the small bottle of lube and a condom before letting it drop between you and the wall. 

Tommy looks up from where he’s wrestling with his belt buckle at the noise and whistles. “What else you got in there?”

“Necessities.” You nod to his crotch where a nice bulge is pressing against his zipper. “You need a hand?” 

“I’ll take two if you can spare ‘em.” He’s in your space again, caging you with his arms and tilting his hips up for your easy access. You tuck the condom and lube in one of his front pockets to free both hands and make quick work of his belt buckle and the fly of his jeans. His dick twitches in his boxers when it’s exposed to the cool air and you swallow at the patch of wet material sticking to what must be the head. Two dainty fingers slip under the elastic and pull the last barrier down. You can’t stop the pleased hum that vibrates through your chest as his dick springs out. Gorgeous cock for a gorgeous man. 

Tommy hisses through his teeth when your chilled fingers circle his dick, your warm palm cradling the hand as you explore the soft skin and veins there. Even his public hair is just right; dark and curling against the base and his balls. You press against him, your chest to his, kissing the underside of his jaw as you play with him. He lets you do what you want, good man that he is, and rolls his head around his neck once, before stopping your hand.

“If y’keep that up I’m gonna come, and I want to be inside you so bad.” He says, fishing out the lube and condom from his pocket and pushing his jeans and boxers further down his thighs. The muscles there bunch and if you didn’t also want his dick inside you’d be on your knees, biting and sucking there too. 

With deft hands he rolls the condom on, squirts a generous amount of lube on his dick, and spreads it with quick, efficient strokes. Usually these practical details of sex slow down the action, but not with Tommy. His eyes are burning into you, his tongue flicking out to wet his bottom lip and swiping over the red marks already showing up from your teeth. He’s breathing faster, anticipation kicking his pulse up so you can see it thudding in his neck even in the low light of the alley. 

“How d’you want it, hm?” he asks, eyes heavy on you, waiting for your word. You want him bad and you want it good, so you turn around and tug up the tight skirt of your dress. It goes easily, giving up the futile fight of staying down your thighs and bunching up at your waist, exposing your entire ass and dripping pussy to him and anyone who bothers to look in your direction. 

“Fuck,” he curses, gripping the base of his dick and pressing you into the wall. “Wait, just–” He reaches around your neck to flip up the collar of his coat on the side of your face that’s close to the wall. Your cheek is cushioned by the sherpa and won’t scrape on the concrete if you get too close. The gesture melts your heart and you’re an entire sopping mess; heart, pussy, and everything in between. 

Between the lube and your cum it’s a damn slip-and-slide between your legs. You don’t help by wiggling around and he ends up laughing into your shoulder while swatting at a buttcheek and clamping a big hand on your bigger hips. 

He lines up, pushes in, and the stretch is so good. You use the wall for support and push back against him, helping him to get as deep as he can. His other hand lifts your belly, settling over your mound, and circling your clit.

“A little slower, yea,” you sigh out. “Just like that, Tommy.” 

It’s another trade between you: thrusting desire and lust back and forth between you, building up your pleasure until it spills over, uncontrollable, delicious, and just what you wanted, what you needed. 

He’s covering you when he comes, his chest pressed to your back, both of his hands on your hips so he can get as deep as possible in the tight squeeze of your pussy. He buries his face in your neck, nuzzling between the soft skin there and the sherpa. His breath is hot and wet and the moans and grunts he’s pouring out there are so sweet they make you clench down harder on him, swiveling your pelvis around and back for just a little more. 

“One more,” he says catching his breath, and you think maybe you said the last part out loud, but he continues. “One more trade?”

“Yea?” you say, arching your neck back to catch his earlobe in your teeth. He shudders and presses harder into you. You can feel the muscles in his thighs on the back of your own, jumping and shaking from his efforts.

“The rest of the night, a hot shower - something to eat,” Tommy says, moving his hands from your hips. His palms are calloused and feel good on your skin as he strokes your belly and takes a breast in one, easing the strain as they hang from you. He holds you to him while the aftershocks roll through you both. “For whatever else you got in that purse.” 

You turn your face to him so your lips brush when you answer him. “Fuck. Yes.” 

[thebowieconstricker]

HIIIII, I noticed you are writing Lisa Frankenstein/ the creature and I just wanted to give u like a writing idea ( also the creature is SO FREAKING UNDERRATED AND HES SO FINE)

What if the readers just had a bad day, didn’t go as planned ect and the creature takes them to dance in the backyard (like in that one scene) and ends it all with him laying on the readers chest and it’s all cuddles n kisses. Like idk he seems the cuddly kind

masterlist

AN: THIS WAS SUCH A LOVELY REQUEST UGHHHH

He is SO the cuddly kind, he loves making his partner feel so special and I’m certain that after being in a grave for so long, the poor baby is touch starved.

It took me a while to get around to writing ‘cause I needed inspiration (aka today sucked and I needed comfort lololololol) anyways our beloved Creature is here to love and comfort!!!! Y’all enjoy <333

~~~

Whoever said senior year was gonna be “different” was a liar.

Three lousy years of stressing over tests, dodging shoulders in the hallways, and crying in your room for what? More homework? More essays? More friends distancing themselves from you and all you can do is watch?

It was hard to make friends in the first place, never mind keep them. You’ve never been the pinnacle of extroverted-ness, so when you thought you’d finally made some pals, you were grateful.

Even if it felt strange sometimes, like when you were always the last one to find out about parties. Like when they always forgot to save a seat for you, or wait up for you.

Like when you had found out they had all planned a movie night tonight without you.

“You can come if you want?” The only thing they could say.

Bullshit, you thought.

So, you weren’t going. You didn’t want another night of awkward small-talk and laughing at inside jokes you were on the outside of.

You had homework, anyways.

Walking to your front door, you noticed your parent’s cars weren’t home. They both had to work pretty late, but you wondered how late tonight would be.

However, this didn’t mean you wouldn’t have company.

You see, through a pretty complicated series of events, you had managed to raise a little hell of your very own. Currently living in your house was a creature, a once living man who had risen from the grave, caked in dirt and grime with electricity coursing through his veins.

A terrifying prospect, one would imagine.

Nay. He was actually just a huge dork.

You never completely understood why he had taken up such a fascination with you, but what you did understand was that the two of you shared a connection. You got each other in ways no one else had. So, after you had gotten over your initial shock at his existence, you had cleaned him up and offered him a place to stay.

Anyways, you opened your door, only to immediately hear the faint sounds of gentle piano. You smiled to yourself.

“I’m home,” you called, somewhat defeatedly. A voice grunted back. You walked to the living room and there your monster man sat, hands gliding ever-so-elegantly across the plastic keys of your keyboard. He paused his playing to look at you. Immediately, he smiled, his eyes brightening. He gave you a small wave, which you returned with a grin that didn’t reach your eyes.

Somehow, he noticed.

He quirked an eyebrow, then pointed towards yourself.

You okay?

Embarrassed, you looked away. Yes, you knew emotions were valid and all that, but it didn’t make you feel any more comfortable sharing your feelings. Avoiding eye contact, you took a breath.

“It was a long day.” That’s all you said.

You heard a gruff sigh in response, which you took to mean I understand. What happened next surprised you, though.

He actually stood up from his piano. You looked back to him and watched as he made his way over to you. He then offered a hand.

You looked at his face. When you had first met him, it was covered in sludge and moss. His face had been completely unreadable. Now, although he was still unnatural looking, his expression was compassionate. His eyes twinkled with kindness, with pure intentions. He was trying to help.

You took his hand, the small grin on your face never leaving. He nodded and gave it a soft kiss, ever the gentleman. Then, much quicker than you expected, he dragged you to the backyard.

You laughed following after him, making exclamations of “woah, wait, slow down!” He continued, and soon, the two of you were in your family’s fairy-light illuminated backyard. It was dark enough to see a few stars in the sky, but what shone the brightest was the moon. You looked out at the dark realm and, once again, your eyes fell upon the creature. He seemed at home in the darkness, a welcome sight.

He looked at you with a grin and bowed.

You giggled. “Wait, if we do this, we need music.” A small radio sat on the sidewalk around your backyard, and you quickly bent down and clicked the play button. The first few notes of one of your favorite songs rang out.

You then looked back at the creature, who flexed his wrist towards you.

Well?

You raised your eyebrows, enjoying the sass. You bowed in return, as regally as you possibly could.

And then, you were swept into his arms. The music was upbeat enough that soon enough, the two of you were twirling each other around. He lifted you into the air by your hips, looking up at you like you’d hung the moon. You raised your arms towards the sky, ‘woo’ing and laughing. Once you were back down, the two of you moved to a more gentle rhythm, lightly swaying back and forth. You steadied your breathing and he smiled looking at you.

After a while, the two of you ended up lying down side by side on the fake grass, staring up at the stars. You had leaned your head on his shoulder, finding comfort in his presence.

“Thanks for… this.” You said in a sigh. He hummed beside you. “No, seriously. This was-“ suddenly, your eyes were watery and you sniffed.

Concerned, he sat up to look at you. “Oh, no, I’m fine.” You tried to stop the tears but suddenly, they were here. Sitting up, you wiped one from your cheek. “Shoot, my makeup.” You whispered to yourself. He quickly moved his hand to gather your other tears, taking care around your eyes. His eyebrows were knitted together with so much worry.

“Sorry, I just- I really appreciate this.” You admitted between tears. His eyes widened, and then he nodded, smiling. He took your hand gently, so so gently, and gave it a small squeeze.

Once again, you leaned your head on his shoulder, then wrapped your other arm around his, a new desire to hold him taking over. His grip on your hand tightened as his thumb caressed it.

The two of you sat in silent understanding, watched only by the twinkling stars above. As the music faded into the night, you felt comforted. This horrible day was over, and now you were safely in the arms of someone you loved.

Loved. You hadn’t thought that word before.

You snuggled your face into the crook of his neck, making yourself comfortable. He laughed lightly to himself at your antics. You felt a soft kiss on the top of your head, making your face warm.

Later, you would find yourselves in a pile of pillows and blankets, stargazing. You laid upon them, fingers tangled in your love’s hair while his head rested on your chest. You’d giggled to yourself when he first put it there, but it seemed right. As one of your hands played with his hair, he traced patterns on the other. Occasionally, it received a soft kiss. As you rambled endlessly about friends and classes and anything else, he listened. Even though he was silent, you knew he listened.

Loved, you thought to yourself.

Sounds about right.

[spideystevie]

can I request prompt 13 with HANGMAN? so excited that you're writing for tgm now 🥹

i am also excited anon! thank you for requesting, i hope you enjoy <3 (1k) 

13. kissing someone’s forehead

The Hard Deck is a little busier than normal tonight, partially from the weekend and partially from the scattered rainfall you’d narrowly avoided getting caught in on your way over. Still, you’d managed to get a light spattering of raindrops on your hair and clothes. 

You hear everyone before you see them. Rowdy yells and encouraging cheers echoing from some place tucked away in a corner of the bar. The nerves in your stomach pinch and twist as you make your way over, searching for the familiar face of your best friend. 

You’d only met a few of his friends from the Navy a handful of times and even though you were explicitly invited to come out with them tonight, you were still a little nervous.

The sound of Jake’s laugh carries over the crowds, something you’d be able to recognize from any distance away in any crowd. The two of you lock eyes at the same time, almost like you were able to sense the other looking subconsciously. 

Something in you relaxes, the sight of his smile like a soothing balm to your nerves. He waves you over with the hand not holding the pool stick. It’s nice to see him around his new friends, all of them out of uniform and in their casual wear. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greets, straightening up from where he’d been sitting against the pool table. You try to ignore the swarm that grows in your stomach at the nickname and hope your smile doesn’t give you away.

“Hey,” you breathe out once you get close enough. You squish yourself into his side, your arm coming to wrap around him. It’s second nature for your hand to rub up and down his back, fingers spread. His shoulders relax and his arm comes up to wrap around your own shoulders. 

Jake’s hand squeezes your shoulder and pulls you into him even more. He leans his head down just enough for his lips to press against your forehead. It’s a gentle comfort, one that makes a gooey warmth travel from your head to your toes. 

You can’t help the smile that forms as you look up at him, his own smile making the corners of his eyes crinkle. You’re only a little bit aware of the eyes burning holes into the two of you but when someone clears their throat you blink hard and look away. 

“You remember everyone?” Jake asks, the slightest flush of red on his cheeks. Your eyes scan the crowd, taking in the familiar faces even if you don’t really remember everyone’s names all that well. Almost like he can sense this, he insists on pointing out who everybody is though he only gives you their callsigns.

“It’s good to see you, again,” Rooster says, a genuine smile on his face. He’s got sunglasses pushed onto the top of his head, though the sun has disappeared behind clouds, and he’s wearing one of those cheesy Hawaiian shirts.

“You too,” you nod, feeling a little shy in front of everyone. It doesn’t take long for everyone to resume what they had been up to right before you arrived and it eases some of the tension from your shoulders. Jake squeezes the one his hand is still resting on. 

“D’you need a drink?” he dips his head down to ask, lips close to the shell of your ear. A buzz settles beneath your skin. 

“Please,” you respond and Jake nods. He squeezes your shoulder once more, pushing his pool stick into your hand before he’s disappearing in the direction of the bar. You’re not sure what to do with it as you sit and wait.

“Do you play?” someone asks to your right, Phoenix, you think. You shake your head with a slight laugh. 

“Oh, god no. I’m a lousy shot, Jake’ll be the first to tell you,” you reply and you don’t miss the way her lips seem to settle into the smallest of smirks. She nods slowly, almost leaning against her own stick. 

“Are you two…” she trails off and you swallow, mouth opening and closing while you try to respond. You fluster, nervously twisting the stick between your fingers as you shake your head. 

“Oh! No, we..we’re not-he’s not,” you breathe out, trying to steady yourself. “We’re just friends.”

You can tell she doesn’t quite believe you from the way she hums in response, her eyes seeming to see right through you. It’s not like you hadn’t given it thought before, dating your best friend. You just tried to shove the thought as far down as it could go, never to see the light of day. 

“Shame,” is all she says, walking around to the other side of the pool table to line up a shot. You blink at her. Jake comes back not a moment too soon, a beer for him and your go-to drink of choice in hand. 

“Here you go,” you accept the glass readily, taking a generous drink from it the moment he hands it over. His eyes narrow if only slightly when you say thank you. “You okay?”

“‘Course,” you say, letting yourself smile as you look at him. And really, you are, because he has your drink order memorized and he greets you with a forehead kiss each time he sees you. He nods and takes a swig from his beer before setting it down next to your drink and taking the pool stick from your hand. 

The what-if comes naturally as you watch him set up his shot, the thought making you drink again. This time you don’t shove it to the back of your mind, you let it linger and fester in your head, wondering if maybe, just maybe it is a shame you hadn’t acted on it yet. Wondering if there’s a similar thrum of thoughts bouncing around Jake’s head too. 

Spoiler alert: there is and he’s at his wit’s end trying to contain it.

[to-myalphonse]

"Shall we?"

Neuvillette x Reader

2k+

Multiple things inspired me when I was writing this.

I hope you Enjoy!

Moon Eclispe obviously is not a real Fontaine event. It's just my excuse to write Neuvi and you dancing at a ball.

The Moonlit Eclipse, a former ball given for the Hydro Archon and her people to commemorate the fall season, was approaching. Things were busier in the Hydro country.

Shops were packed with customers, while melusines and other decorations adorned the streets. Lady Furina travels to the streets, giving little speeches to her people to get them excited for the event. She performs a tiny twirl, which elicits excitement from the spectators.

The ball was a tremendously popular event that everyone wanted to attend, but getting inside was tough for anyone who wasn't noble. Popular Fontaine and paparazzi figures had an easier time attending the event.

Middle- and lower-class people like yourself needed an invitation to even be permitted inside.

Your position as a ticket attendant at the Opera Eclaisse was going well. Given the increased amount of people you've been dealing with, today's trial appears to be quite popular. The salary was good, and the atmosphere was often chaotic, but Monsieur Neuvillette always made sure you and your coworkers were safe. You sighed softly, hoping that nothing goes wrong today.

"Hello, ticket for two?" A foreign couple comes up with funds for the latest trail. They take in the Opera House with astonishment.

"First time here?" They nod as you proceed. "This is the Court House, often called the Opera House. Monsieur Neuvillette and Lady Furina have their troubles here." You react by, giving them their change and tickets.

"Expect a bit of chaos, have a good day." You wave them away as they approach the door, until they notice a criminal being led out of the house near the other exit. He attempted to flee, but was apprehended and held once more. The couple next to you leaps and immediately enters the house.

Monsieur Neuvillette steps in for the next trial, past the man being led out. He passes you by just a single glance, surrounded by a pink aura. As he walks into the entryway where you work, his long white and blue hair sways in without a gust of wind. You gave a  smile as you watched him pass you.

His expression changed today, and he appeared to be nearly happy. As you immediately attended to the next customer, a tap on your window disrupted the image.

As you exited the Opera House, the sky was painted in orange. The bell tower in the distance is chiming, signaling the upcoming hour. You stroll outside, exiting just as the bell rings its final chime.

A gathering of people gathered near the fountain to cheer for someone. Fontaine's famed magician performed for the audience, pulling a few items from his hat. It appears that Lyney and Lynette's troupe performed tonight. Squeezing through, you make your way to the ferry back to the city.

"So what are you planning on wearing to the ball?" As you waited for the ferry, a group of girls dressed in elegant attire chatted nearby.

"I want to wear a pink dress with those pearls." Another girl scoffs, suggesting that her attire will resemble that one. A little quarrel breaks out as the girls begin insulting each other loudly.

A few spectators glared them down, but everyone else seemed to ignore them. Things became more severe as one girl was thrust into you. She turns with a humble expression until she scoffs seeing your attire. "Honestly, commoner, pick yourself off the ground; you will look pathetic." The others join in, laughing and shaming you even more.

"Sorry, ma'am, but you ran into me.” You brought up their fight only a few moments ago. One girl's arrogant smirk faded into an ugly frown, wrinkling her brow. She approaches with a pocketbook in her hand, her voice increasing.

"Do you dare to speak back to me? You are nothing but a lousy commoner." She starts swinging and smacks you in the head. Wincing, you try to get away from her, only to return the wrong way, falling into the sea.

Your uniform and hair were immediately ruined, much to your dismay. "Haha, you really needed a swim." The other burst out laughing as you swam your belongings to the platform.

Grab your belongings first, then swim back for your cap. After getting them back to shore, you noticed something was missing: your wallet. Looking around, you see it just underwater.

You dive down and grab it, unaware of the incoming aquabus. As you emerge from the water, your face comes into contact with the approaching boat before you can fully think. Pushing you back towards the platform, squeezed you until you were hauled out of the water by the approaching bus. You were gently placed back on the ground as Elphane raced off the aquabuscar to investigate.

"I am so sorry." The purple melusine bowed profusely to you as they checked over your injuries. 

"Please, board, let me take you to the hospital." "Ah, Monsieur Neuvillete, do you plan to return to the city as well?"

Is he here?

Monsieur Neuvillette attends to your injuries while Elphane ensures the boat is still operational. He assists you in carefully standing as she turns the boat right, allowing you both to embark.

"Uhm, Monsieur, I can stand now." He releases go, letting you stand. He looks at your figure before backing off.

"Uhm, you can enter now." The melusine stands at the top of the stairs before returning to position. You nod and swiftly find a seat toward the back of the steps. Monsieur Neuvillette is seated across from you. As the boat takes off, you stare out into the water.

You then sit silently as Elphane begins to speak. She asks if your trip went okay, only to receive an uncomfortable silence before moving on to another issue. You stare at your hands, embarrassed by what happened before.

"Uhm, I apologize if I made you awkward." He looks over at you.

"No, no, it's my fault for falling into the tract like that." You just wanted to curl up up somewhere where they couldn't see you. If Iudex noticed, he probably decided not to remark at all. Elphane continues her brief conversations as the boat glides back toward the court.

You hurriedly leave the dock and return home. You didn't hear anything else from the Iudex as you walked through the city towards your house.

In the days that followed, your routine continued as usual. Since Monsieur Neuvillette's schedule appears to be slightly modified. Now at work in the Opera Eclaisse, you see less of him. The people in today's trial  appeared to be less full than normal. Due to those reasons, your task began to slow down after a few hours. During that time, you were tasked with cleaning the windows and entrance. You clean the windows and sweep the floor at the entrance to Opera Eclaisse.

People in the courtroom could be heard whispering and twisting their words. AYou continue your duty until you hear Monsieur's voice calling the courtroom to order. You started blushing as you remembered how you embarrassed yourself in front of him and the Melusine tour leader the other day. You hope not to come across him again anytime soon.

As the day's final trial comes to a close, the day gradually fades into night. You wait for everyone to leave the courthouse before carrying out other responsibilities. You work intently on your tasks as someone descends the stairs. As you look up from your task, high-heeled boots come to a stop next to you.

"Oh, you're working late tonight." The man you were hoping to avoid stopped next to you.

"Ah, greetings, Monsieur Neuvillette." You keep your gaze fixed on the floor, determined not to make another mistake in front of him.

"One of my coworkers got sick, and he asked me to take over his shift, as there was no one else to cover it today." He nods, inspecting the items in your palm. As the conversation grows silent, you stroll over and put them away.

"Is there something that I can do for you, Iudex?"

"Are you attending the moon eclipse?" You stare at him puzzled; certainly he was aware that this event was not open to people of your status, right?

"Monsieur Neuvillette, someone of my status isn't allowed into the ball without an invitation."

"It's a ball for those with higher social standing to attend. Someone like me doesn't have any space there at all." You speak while still completing your responsibilities so that you can look up and return home. The Iudex stands there, watching your movements. When you realized he was tracking you, your movements became more robotic. Why was Monseiur still standing there? You gave him an answer.

"Would you like to attend?" You halt, staring at him with wide eyes. He glances back at you, waiting for your response.

"I'm not against it." He nods as he approaches the Opera Eclaisse's front doors. You shrug, lock the booth, and walk home more slowly than normal.

The night arrived as you prepared for the ball. A letter came in the day before with a gift for you, and a ticket for admission. Monsieur Neuvillette telling you keep the mask with you, should anyone deny you entrance.

You chose your best clothing and made any necessary modifications before picking up the mask that came with your admittance. The mask was the same color as Iudex's hair. You hold the mask up to your face. The mask suprisingly complemented the color of the clothing. You take small, deep breaths to relieve your nervousness before exiting into the night.

"Welcome to the Moon Eclipse." One of the men in charge of the ceremony addressed the audience of aristocrats. You could see upper-class women conversing with one another, and Monsieur Neuvillette himself standing at the front of the gathering, cane in hand. The speaker finishes his statement as music starts playing.

You pick up your dress and go far from the nobles whom were dancing. You keep your head down to avoid drawing attention as you make your way to the balcony.

"Oh, I don't believe that we have had the pleasure of meeting." A man dressed in expensive garments approaches you.

"I am Duke Myris, and you are?" He makes a slight bow before reaching out his hand to you.

"Nice to meet you." You bow to the noble and give him your name. He gives a slight nod before frowning at you.

"Name.. I don't think I've heard of you. Are you a child in the house of (insert name)?" You shake your head as his face shifts to a smug one.

"So a commoner at the Moon Eclipse." His words drew the attention of the noble women around.

"A commoner?"

"Who invited them?"

"They could have stolen an invitation; it's fitting of them to do that."

The women and other nobility slowed the music, focusing their attention on you. Sneers and critical looks were sent your way.

"I was invited." He gave a tiny laugh as the women laughed behind their fans. Your shoulders stiffened as you attempted to prove your worth here. The truth is, you are aware that you do not belong, but you should enjoy it. Monsieur Neuvillette had personally invited you, after all.

The lords and ladies' laughter halted as the man you were thinking about reached you.

"Hello, is there any issue with the person that I invited?" You push the mask closer to your face while the others gaze on in shock. Monsieur Neuvillette approaches, donning an outfit more formally than he usually does. The mask he wore matched the clothing you wore. Seeing the connections, the nobility who mocked you apologized profusely before retreating.

"Good evening, monsieur." You bow to him out of respect.

"Good evening, I see you managed to make it." You gave a slight nod, grasping the end of the mask that was held up near your face.

"Thank you for inviting me, Monsieur Neuvillette." You were ready to walk away when he extended a hand toward you.

"May I request your permission to dance with you?" You swallow anxiously and accept his hand. As you start swaying, the music begins to play. A wave of happiness seized control, and a grin rose to your face. He whirls you around, and you followed in harmony. As you dance, your inner mind screamed with joy. You attempted to calm your heart, thinking he wouldn't hear it. He focuses on the waltz, seemingly not hearing it; the music stops as he dips you.

Silence consumes the room before erupting in cheers. You look up at the Iudex, the mask taken away from your face. His blue eyes stare down at you as he gently lifts you back up.

[moonferry]

hii guys i decided to try my hand at writing for shane.

title: just trust me, you'll be fine.

word count: 2741

genre: fluff? emotional hurt/comfort

warnings: depression, suicidal thoughts, alcohol use, depressive thoughts, shane's cliff scene.

pairing: shane x gn!reader / shane x player / shane x gn!farmer

summary: shane begins to have depressive thoughts & even brings himself to the cliffside. he is soon greeted by the farmer and is reminded of everything he's grateful for

Everyday had begun to seem exactly the same for Shane: wake up at noon, go to his soulless job, drink at the saloon until ungodly hours of the night and  then pass out at two in the morning. Even the lush plant life seemed to take on an air of gray whenever Shane was around. Nothing seemed colorful anymore - like the whole world was a painful reflection of his mental state.  Occasionally, he’d “spice it up” and throw in some concerning thoughts about his life situation. Not like he particularly enjoyed these, but they added some variety into his drab life. Not good variety, but variety nonetheless.

Shane glanced at the ceiling with a loud sigh. It seemed like tonight would not be a good one. He glanced over at the small, broken alarm clock on his nightstand. 3:00 A.M. the small LED lights flashed. “Great,” Shane mumbled to himself, “Just great.” He hoisted himself into a sitting position before burying his face into his palms. He heaved another sigh as he rubbed what little sleep from his eyes. Shane knew something like this would happen. 

“This is why I don’t take naps,” he grumbled, clearly annoyed with himself. Today was one of the rarer days, well, yesterday, considering the time. Shane had been given the day off - courtesy of a “Joja family bonding day” where all employees were required to attend a short “employee appreciation” ceremony. All they received was a cup of lousy  coffee and a stale cookie - and the knowledge that they would not be paid for this time off. Not like Shane was making that much, anyway. He gladly took the day off and intended to spend it doing his favorite thing: absolutely nothing. Of course, he hadn’t intended on sleeping, but his body was begging for a break, so Shane decided to “rest his eyes” at 4 p.m. the previous afternoon. Now, at 3 in the morning, Shane was reaping the consequences. Usually, he would have enough alcohol in his system to help him sleep through the night, but it’s typically frowned upon to drink before 5 pm. 

Shane dangled his legs across the side of his small mattress before letting his socked feet thump against the hardwood floor. He slipped on the nearest pair of shoes - a worn pair of green slippers with barely enough tread left on the bottom to keep him from tripping. They would have to do. It’s not like Shane had enough to buy new ones, or that he wanted to, anyway. He glanced around at the messy state of his bedroom and felt immensely guilty. How could he do this? He thought to himself. Marnie had let him live here, had rented him this room for the lowest amount of money humanly possible, and Shane couldn’t even keep his room clean. He felt awful. 

“Ungrateful piece of shit,” Shane mumbled to himself as he felt small pinpricks of tears well in his eyes, “That’s all I am, really.” No matter what his mind screamed at him, Shane could not make himself move to clean the mess. It wasn’t that he particularly enjoyed the mess, he could just never find the motivation to clean it. Shane could barely find the motivation for anything, anymore. That worried him. He had often had thoughts about what others' lives would be without him and ultimately decided they would not be much different {or if they were, it would be for the better}. It was these thoughts that ultimately led to him leaving the small farm house and walking towards the edge of a cliff. Shane crouched down and wrapped his arms around his knees. 

“Why do I even try anymore?” Shane wondered as he glanced over the rocky ledge beneath his feet. He reached down and grabbed the nearest can - a cheap, Joja brand beer with the expiration date smudged off. He slipped his fingers beneath the pull tab and heard the familiar crisp hiss as the can eased open. Shane brought the cool aluminum to his lips before taking a hefty swig. The bitter liquid, which had normally been his friend, decided to burn his throat as he swallowed. 

“This shit’s awful,” he gagged out, nearly becoming a sputtering mess as the foam continued trailing down his esophagus. Shane took another sip anyway. He soon emptied the can and looked at it disdainfully. This was supposed to be making him feel better, not worse, so why could he not stop thinking. His mind began racing with every decision he had ever made - most of them far from great, other’s mediocre at best. 

When he looked at his problems, it seemed there was only one common denominator: himself, or that’s how he saw it at least. Others would try and make him feel better by insisting “it’s just your circumstances,” or that it was some ethereal force with a plan, like Shane believed any of it. If someone really had a plan for his life, why had it all gone to shit? He could never figure that one out. 

“God, I’m a failure,” Shane spoke, his voice breaking as a small sob choked him. He inched himself closer to the rocky ledge and looked down once again, the familiar yet horrible thoughts seeping into his brain once again. His heart ached with the weight of his emotions and another sob bubbled in his chest. Shane opened yet another can and took a drink - desperate to feel anything other than the waterfall of unprocessed emotions that threatened to drown him. No, he didn’t want to feel “anything,” he wanted to feel nothing. To become numb. To seep into the grayness around him just to experience a color other than the violent blue hues that formed his aura. To feel something other than unjustified rage at the wrong people. Shane couldn’t count how many times he had lashed out at Marnie or the new farmer. 

Shane felt his breathing catch in his throat. He was suddenly unable to think clearly. He was overcome with a large wave of regret and guilt as he watched the waves crash against the rocks beneath the cliffside. Shane dangled his legs over but some small force in the back of his mind kept him from moving any further. Another force spat terrible things at him and told him he should stop being a coward, that no one would even notice one small, insignificant speck removed from the vast universe. He remained unmoving - each voice desperately trying to get their pleas heard throughout the turmoil inside his head. 

It was all too much, so Shane did what he did best. He did nothing. While Shane was debating with himself, a small downpour had started and he was currently getting drenched. The rain was deafeningly loud and Shane felt a kinship. His thoughts blared inside his brain and he was once again overwhelmed with emotions. Shane buried his face inside the palms of his hands, his elbows resting on his thighs. Salty tears streamed down his cheeks. 

Shane didn’t seem to notice the soft crunch of footsteps behind him or squelch of mud as someone sat beside him. He only looked up when he felt the soft pressure of a hand against his shoulder. 

“Are you okay, Shane?” A quiet voice spoke. It was the new farmer. That damned, incessant farmer. No matter how rude to them Shane was, they kept coming back. They kept talking to him, of all people. As if that wasn’t bad enough, they managed to stumble upon him at his lowest. 

“What? Here to make fun of me?” Shane spat back, the familiar anger seeping into his voice. Though he had reacted with hostility, Shane was glad the farmer had approached. Whenever they were around, Shane’s mind seemed to find something else to focus on. 

“No,” They spoke, an unusual gentleness in their words. They surveyed the scene before them: Shane with a nearly empty 6-pack, maybe a foot at most from the cliff edge, completely drenched. “I was on my way home, then I saw you.”

“It’s nothing,” Shane lied. When he was met with silence, it was clear to him that the farmer didn’t believe him. Shane sighed and gave a small nod. “Fine,” he confessed, “it is something.”

“Tell me,” The farmer urged. They propped themself up and gave Shane their full attention, “If you want to, I mean. I’m not going to force you to.” 

Shane inhaled deeply, his cheeks puffing up as he took the air into his lungs. Where to even begin? He wondered. So much had been on his mind, he didn’t even know where to start. Shane simply shrugged before speaking, “Do you ever feel like you’re not good enough? No matter how hard you try?” 

The farmer stayed silent as they listened intently.

“I mean, for months now, it’s been the same shit, different day.” Shane confided, he pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped an arm around them. He thought for a moment before thinking again, “Nothing seems to be getting better, or worse. It’s just… stagnant. Like I’m living in the world’s worst fuckin’ time loop.” 

“Nothing has meaning anymore, Farmer,” He huffed before emptying another can in one gulp, “and it makes me wonder, what’s the fucking point? Why should I live to experience the same day on repeat?” 

The farmer glanced at Shane before silently scooting closer to him. They rested their hand on Shane’s shoulder once again. 

“Tell me. Tell me what the point is,” Shane pleaded. Emotion coated his voice once again. Shane sniffled and glanced down at the ground beneath him. 

“Well, I’m not an expert,” The farmer started, rubbing the back of their neck with an awkward noise, “But I think that’s something you need to answer, Shane. What is the reason you’re still here?” They hesitated a bit before adding, “Something obviously keeps you here, even if you don’t realize it.” 

Shane went silent. He hadn’t thought about it before. Obviously, something had stopped him, or he would have “left” a long time ago. Was it guilt? Or maybe the responsibility he felt for Jas? Shane wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was a culmination of multiple things: all the small joys he encountered on a day-to-day basis, like frozen pizza or the way he feels when helping with Marnie’s chickens. Shane couldn’t help but feel like he was forgetting something. He glanced over at the Farmer and noticed how the rain made their hair stick to the sides of their cheeks. Shane began to realize it wasn’t things that kept him here, it was people. Maybe he couldn’t see it at times, but he was surrounded by a town full of people who tolerated him - some more than others. This farmer, from the day they moved to Pelican town, had made the conscious effort to speak to Shane - no matter how awful he had been to them. 

“I think,” Shane started, his deep frown slowly forming into a thin line, “I think I know what it is.” 

“Oh?” The Farmer asked. They tilted their head curiously and waited for Shane’s answer. 

“People.” He replied with a small nod. “I have never been surrounded by so much life and whimsy. You can’t help but get pulled in. When I sit here, at the edge of these cliffs, I think about how different their lives would be without me. Some evil voice tells me they wouldn’t even notice – and then I remember the warm atmosphere of the saloon and how everyone warmly greets me when I enter.” A small, but heartfelt smile begins to creep onto Shane’s features. He fills his chest swell with adoration of his friends. Those people couldn’t fathom just how much they’ve changed Shane’s life, even if he does complain and grumble at them. 

“You know,” Shane started. He sat down the can nestled in his fingers and turned to look at the farmer. He saw the way the moonlight bounced off of the rain and perfectly framed their face. His breath hitched as he realized just how ethereal they looked. “There’s another thing…” 

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” The farmer asked. They readjusted once again and a hopeful look spread across their features. 

Shane’s cheeks lightly flushed. He took in their features: the perfect shape of their lips, the light dusting of dirt spread across their right cheek, the way their soaked clothing sagged and clung to their arms. “Um,” Shane hesitated. He shook his head and let out a small sigh, “Nothing.” Shane mentally facepalmed. He glanced back down at his lap. He could be imagining it, but out of the corner of his eye, a small flicker of disappointment seemed to flash across the Farmer’s features. Shane wasn’t sure, as it was gone in an instant. 

The farmer hesitated before moving their hand down and gently resting it on the backside of Shane’s hand. Shane looked up at them with a small look of confusion. 

“If you ever need me, I’ll be there, Shane. I don’t want to lose you,” They said. The farmer gently squeezed Shane’s hand and began to stand. 

“Farmer, wait,” Shane called out. He reached his hand out and grabbed their wrist. He stood up and approached them– careful not to slip on a stray rock and go tumbling into the ravine below. 

Once he had reached them, Shane took a deep breath before speaking. “I’ve been an absolute asshole to you lately. I mean, talk about a mega dick.” Shane glanced down at the muddy ground beneath the two of them. “You didn’t deserve any of it. I’m sorry. For some reason you decided to stick around – despite everything. So, thanks… for that.” 

“Of course, Shane. I mean, what are friends for?” The farmer replied, a small, humorless chuckle leaving their lips. 

“That’s the thing, Farmer. No one else has done something like that for me,” Shane confessed. He stammered over the next words as a small flush crept into his cheeks once again “It.. It really means a lot.” Shane gulped and met their eyes once again. He gently took their hand in his before adding, “You mean a lot to me.” 

The farmer smiled softly before scooting themself closer to Shane and placing a gentle peck on Shane’s cheek. Shane had never been more glad to be a coward. He was grateful to whatever force kept him from the edge. 

That was a year ago. Now, at another dreadful hour of the night, Shane lies awake in bed. However, he isn’t alone this time. He glances over and sees the farmer: they lay facing Shane, the soft curtains of sleep surrounding their face. He reached out and gently brushed a stray hair behind their ear. 

The farmer stirs awake at the soft touch and sleepily looks at Shane. 

“Everything okay, honey?” They murmur, a small yawn interrupting their speech. 

“It will be.” Shane replied. He rested his hand against their cheek and felt his heart swell with gratitude. Had it not been for the farmer, Shane would have never been inspired to  pursue the help he needed. 

The farmer hadn’t “saved” or “fixed” him, they simply showed him that he could still be loved, despite the horrors of living. Shane still experienced bad days, but it helped to know that he wasn’t alone. He had a whole support system: his lovely spouse, his Aunt Marnie, Jas, hell, even Harvey. So many people who would happily help him up if he stumbled and never judge him for falling. It was quite nice. If you were to tell Shane from a year ago how his life would turn around if he learned to rely on other people, he likely would have spat in your face. He had always assumed he could handle it himself, but some things are easier if you ask for help. 

The farmer nodded and began to drift back to sleep. Shane watched them lovingly, a small smile forming across his features. 

“I love you,” Shane whispered. When he received no response, it was clear his spouse had fallen back asleep. He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss onto their forehead before resting his own forehead against theirs. 

“Thank you for never giving up on me,” Shane spoke quietly, his words being lost to the night as he began to drift off.

AN: i hope you all enjoyed this. i wanted to try my hand at writing for shane. as someone who has experiences with depressive thoughts, i relate to shane's experiences a bit. if you find yourself in a similar situation or you also experience depressive or suicidal thoughts, i want you to know that despite what your brain may be telling you: you are not alone. it will get better. these things take time, so keep at it. please reach out to someone - preferably a mental health professional - and receive the resources you need. i know not everyone will have the luxury, so if you are unable to find a professional, reach out to family or friends. it's important to note that you are not alone. so many people care about you - even me, a random stranger on the internet whom you've never met. the world will not be the same without you. i love you, you've got this. <3

[axxa-the-allikatt]

Hi, could you write bottom Dom Jing Yuan X Top Caelus? Thank you

Of course! Thanks for the request. Sorry if it's not exactly what you asked for, I realised that you hadn't specifically asked for smut or fluff, so I kinda added both. And it's a bit lengthy too. Hope you don't mind!

***

CAUSE AND CONSEQUENCE~

***

Caelus X Lover Jing Yuan

***

One of the worst things about having a long distance relationship ship, was, as everyone knows, not being able to be in touch with them for long periods of time. And by touch, I mean to include physical too.

Although his job as a general didn't give Jing Yuan enough private time to indulge in his little 'fantasies, he often found himself making up more and more excuses to be alone. And if someone might have accidentally barged in on his 'alone time', they'd see the poor man on the verge of a breakdown, one of his legs thrown on the arm of the couch, his legs spread open as he pushed his fingers as far into his tight, needy hole as he could, shamelessly moaning out Caelus' name over and over again and whimpering about how it wasn't deep enough, about he needed Caelus to rearrange his insides, fuck him senseless, oh god anything, please~

As more and more days went by, what with Caelus and the astral crew held up in penacony, most of the people in Xianzhou began to notice the change in the General's behaviour. He was growing more and more... impatient. It was the first time in a long time the residents of Xianzhou had seen their 'Dozing General' so worked up. And since the relationship between him and Caelus were yet to be made public, the speculations regarding his behaviour were growing wild.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Jing Yuan received a message from his lover, informing him that he would be back in Xianzhou within a day or two. As he had informed, two days later, the Astral express dropped Caelus off at the Xianzhou gates, where his beloved lover was waiting for him, along with a few others who were excited to hear the stories of the penacony's incident. Oh how Jing Yuan want to shoo them off, tell them that he wanted some alone time with his lover. And if the situation was so, he wouldn't have hesitated to drop on his knees, right then and there, and give Caelus a blowjob, because he had been through so much trouble in penacony hadn't he? Wouldn't he be so grateful for his lover, who was so eagerly waiting to help him 'relax?

But Jing Yuan was sure that his lover was as excited for their time together as he was. All his confidence shattered when Caelus merely gave him a lousy hug, as he let himself be dragged away by the others, laughing and narrating something animatedly. Why wasn't he protesting, at least lying that he was too tired and that he'd rather ho home? Didn't he want to spend time with him?

Jing Yuan knew it had been a bad idea getting into a relationship with Caelus so hastily, when he'd only know for a few months. But oh how he loved being in the presence of the trailblazer, so much so that just holding hands would usually make him giddy. Had he met someone in penacony, someone who made his heart race like he did Jing Yuan's?

Just the thought made his blood boil as he slowly made his way back to his home. He would make him realise, he decided, who he really wanted. And even after tonight, if he still wanted to part ways, then Jing Yuan would accept it, not that there was much else he could do. He walked into his room as he slowly planned out all he would be needing to do tonight.

On the other hand, Caelus was trying his best to slip from the grasps of the Xianzhou residents, who seemed to be wanting every little detail of all that had gone down in penacony. He half heartedly narrated something, his heart and body twitching at the thought of going back home tonight, back to his sweet lover.

Finally after a half hour of telling the incidents of penacony, he was finally able to leave, muttering about how hungry he was, although he had eaten like a king on the astral express not an hour ago. Making his way to Jing Yuan's house, he had a skip to his walk. He entered the house, not bothering to knock, as he called out to his lover.

"Jing Yuan? Sweetheart, I'm home!" With a second, Jing Yuan was in front of him, crashing into his arms as the almost toppled over. Caelus let out a laugh as he managed to twirl the man around, pressing a kiss against the top of his head. Jing Yuan hummed as he stayed in his arms for a while longer before he began pulling him to their shared room. "Whoa! Slow down, baby, what's the rush?" He chuckled, but Jing Yuan continued to tug him along, until he was in the room, before he sent Caelus inside, and entered behind him, locking the door behind him.

Caelus took in a breath, enjoying the smell of his lover's favourite cologne. Ahh, he had missed this. He let out a surprised yelp, as Jing Yuan spun him around, then pushed him, right onto the bed. "What's the-ah" his words got stuck in his throat as his lover pushed his back into the bed, pinning his hands above him. "You know." Jing Yuan began, settling on top of Caelus, his knees on either side of his lovers hips, "you've been unnecessarily mean to me ever since you came back." He whispered as he leaned towards his ear, licking the shell.

Caelus felt a shiver run up his spine. What he had done, he had no idea, but whatever was going on now, he loved it. The change in Jing Yuan's tone, which was usually light and hearty, made him want to moan. But he merely gulped, as Jing Yuan pulled a pair of handcuffs, chaining both of Caelus' hands to the bedpost. "You deserve to be punished, don't you?" He asked sweetly. M/n only nodded, still no idea what was going on, but if it meant what he thought it meant, then god he could do this all day.

Caelus watched with heavy breaths as Jing Yuan pulled off his clothes, piece by piece, and then leaving Caelus fully clothed, began to make a show of fingering himself, scissoring his pretty hole, until his untouched cock leaked with pre cum, trailing its way down. Caelus could only let out needy whimpers, whining about how he wasn't being fair, to release the handcuffs so he could touch him, feel him, after so long. God, his pants were feeling too tight.

Jing Yuan smiled at him, as he got on top of him, finally releasing Caelus' cock from its prison, as it sprang up, already leaking with pre cum. "Look at you~" Jing Yuan cooed, "You're leaking untouched. Such a needy little thing aren't we?" He murmured as he leaned down, pressing his lips against Caelus. Really, he was happy that he wasn't the only one who was desperate. It fueled his confidence for what he was about to do next.

Caelus moaned into the kiss, finally happy to get some physical affection, before he yelped into the kiss. Jing Yuan had started riding him, and hadn't hesitated to bottom out first thing. Considering how both of them hadn't done this in a while it only took them a few seconds, before Caelus was whimpering, "Hah~ oh god~ Baby please- ohgodohgodohgod~ Cu- hah ~ pleasepleaseplease let me cum~" But of course. If he wanted it to end that quickly, Jing Yuan wouldn't have even bothered taking the lead. Oh no, this was punishment, Caelus, don't you remember~

Just before his orgasm hit him like a train, he felt Jing Yuan slide off his cock, making him cry out in dismay. "Come on love~ we aren't done yet~" Jing Yuan whispered as he slid a cock ring onto the base of Caelus' now weeping cock. At this point Caelus mind was too mushy, what with him not being able to touch himself or Jing Yuan, and his denied orgasm. The only words that came out of his mouth were repeated please's and oh god's.

Mean while, Jing Yuan was barely keeping it together, really. He was a major pillow princess most of them.. well all of the times they had sex, until today. He knew he wouldn't last as long as he wished he would. So why not make the most of it? He shuffled back slightly so that he could bend down and give a kitten lick to the red tip of Caelus' cock, then another.

Soon again, Caelus was moaning out sinful profanities, crying and begging his beloved lover to uncuff him, to please please let him touch him, please.

Jing Yuan moaned, as his cock now hit the back of his throat over and over again, making him gag. Then, finally, he couldn't help it as his hand made its way to his own cock, which was close to untouched, as he began jerking off, his hands and mouth moving in unison, until his milky white cum sprayed all over his chest and Caelus' thighs, at the same time as his lover had a dry orgasm, as he pulled back from Caelus.

He was met with the sight of his lover, his eyes watery, his lips swollen from biting on them too hard, his back arched so beautifully at yet another denied release. Jing Yuan's breath caught in his throat as lightly traced the trailblazer's smooth abs. "One more round and we'll call it even, okay sweetheart?" He asked gently wiping his lovers tears, who merely whimpered in response.

Jing Yuan pulled off the ring on his cock as his slid himself onto it, this time slowly, as he worked his way up a gentle rhythm. After what felt like forever, but was only just a minute or two, Caelus felt the familiar knot in his stomach, for the third time this night, as he released his seed, deep inside Jing Yuan, who immediately followed with an orgasm of his own.

Exhausted, yet content, Jing Yuan bounced up and down a few more times, to ride out their orgasms, as the flopped on the bed beside Caelus, cum dripping out and down his creamy thighs, as he leaned over to uncuff him, rubbing his wrists gently after he did. Caelus brought his hands down, whimpering as he did, finally feeling the blood flow into his arms.

"Sorry." Jing Yuan whispered, nuzzling his face into Caelus' neck. "Sweetheart, I'm the one who's supposed to apologise." Caelus answered, kissing the top of his lovers head.

"Although.. I still don't know what you were mad at me for."

This was when Jing Yuan realised that Caelus wasn't trying to distance himself from him, let alone cheat.

The general had been for so without him that he let himself think the weirdest of things, when the reason for his behaviour was the same reason he had fallen for him. The trailblazer was just oblivious and stupid. He was his oblivious and stupid boy.

Anyways, as I was saying, this was one of the cause and consequence of the hardships of long distance relationships.

***

Sorry if this seems rushed. I have exams going on in college, but I also didn’t want to post this too late, cuz I lose motivation quickly.

Hope you enjoyed it.

Reblogs appreciated~ Todaloo~

[misfitwashere]

Friends,

Trump called attention to the discrepancy between his height (reportedly 6-foot-3) and Kamala Harris’s (5-7½ in heels), insisting that no accommodation be made to appear closer in size.

“No boxes or artificial lifts will be allowed to stand on during my upcoming debate with Comrade Kamala Harris,” he wrote, adding that such accommodations would be “a form of cheating.” There’s no evidence Harris has sought such things. 

Nicholas Rule, a psychology professor at the University of Toronto who researches social perception and cognition, said Harris’s shorter height will be irrelevant tonight because she exudes “Tall Energy,” which he defined as “the confidence that comes from being above average height.”

I am 4-feet-10. At my highest, I was 4-feet-11. I doubt I have “Tall energy.” But if I were on the stage tonight with Donald Trump, I’d demolish him. 

To be sure, when it comes to choosing leaders, our society is exceptionally heightist. 

When I ran for the Democratic nomination for governor of Massachusetts in 2002, it seemed that the only attribute reporters wanted to cover was my height. Regardless of what I said in my speeches, the Boston Globe ran photos of me standing on boxes so I could see over the podium. The right-wing Boston Herald ran a headline on its front page charging “Short People Are Furious with Reich” because I had joked about my height on the campaign trail. 

None of it helped me with that election. But I didn’t lose because of my height. I lost because I was a lousy campaigner.

Research shows that voters do prefer taller candidates. A paper published in 2013 by psychologists at the University of Groningen in the Netherlands analyzed the results of American presidential elections dating back to 1789. They found that taller candidates received more votes than shorter ones in roughly two-thirds of all elections. And the taller the candidates were relative to their opponents, the greater the average margin of their victory. 

Among presidents who have sought a second term, winners have been two inches taller, on average, than losers. The authors conclude that height may explain as much as 15 percent of the variation in election outcomes. 

It’s similar in the private sector. A survey of the heights of CEOs of Fortune 500 companies showed they were on average six feet tall -- about 2.5 inches taller than the average American man.

Why are we so heightist? Probably because of some genetic trigger in our brain that told early humans they needed the protection of very big men. Other things being equal, large males are more to be feared and they live longer. An impulse to defer to them, or prefer them as mates, makes evolutionary sense.

In Size Matters, Stephen S. Hall writes that in the eighteenth-century Frederick William of Prussia paid huge sums to recruit giant soldiers from around the world, thereby giving tangible value to matters of inches, and revealing “the desirability of height for the first time in a large, post-medieval society.”

But hey, I’m okay with giant soldiers, big security guards, and massive CEOs. I don’t care if I lack “Tall energy.” I’m fortunate to have grown up (or at least grown upward) in a society that values brains at least as much as brawn.

Kamala will win tonight, and she’ll go on to win the election in 55 days — not because of her “Tall energy,” but because she’s smarter, tougher, and better in every way than her large, stupid, decrepit opponent.