#never written a take like this hope it makes sense

[alienoresimagines]

Just some words I've been needing to hear for a few weeks now and once I finally wrote them down, I thought maybe there were other people who might need to hear them too ❤️

You don't need to be anyone's favorite writer for your writing to be good.

The worth of your writing is not measured by whether or not you're included in fic recs or the amount of comments/asks you get.

Your works don't need to be recognized as some of The fics of the fandom to be good or worth reading.

'Popular' writers in your fandom are also just writers (and humans!!) : you don't need to impress or be noticed by them to have a place in your fandom. Fandom should be fun so don't let your brain ruin it with a misplaced sense of competition <3

You don't need to post a fic every week to be considered a writer. You don't need to write every week to be a writer. There is no limited places in fandom: come and go as you want and as life allows you to. Post when you feel like it, there is no trend to surf on to stay 'relevant' as a fic writer or a content creator. Fandom will always wait for you.

Your writing is good, and the more you write, the more you find your style, the better it gets.

Your writing made someone's day. Your writing is helping the fandom stay alive. Your writing should make you happy, and that happiness should not be proportional to how recognized you are in your fandom.

I know it can be discouraging to see tons of fic recs in your fandom and none of them including your fics. But yesterday, when I was feeling down, I re-read my own published works because they were the stories I wanted to read. And I enjoyed reading them, so much. And that is enough to keep me writing, because it showed me there is no better person to write the stories I have in my head than myself (a huge progress considering months ago, I couldn't reread something I'd written because I was cringeing too hard to get through two sentences).

Find your people that will always hype you and your fics up: you and your writing don't have to appeal to every single person in your fandom. Write niche fics! Rarepairs seemingly no one brought up before! Include headcanons and takes and interpretations you've never seen written before!

Write the stories you are dying to read, and I promise you, you'll find other people who were hoping to find that story somewhere, too.

Your writing is unique because it can only ever be yours and same goes for your stories; your writing is worth reading and your stories are worth being written <3

[cuntdevil]

★ PRETTY BROWN EYES !

he hoped to swoon you with his gorgeous brown eyes and bright personality ─── never mind the fact that he has a girlfriend.

( fic demographics. ) jujutsu kaisen, takuma ino, sexually mature | minors, ageless & blank blogs: do not interact & 5,017 words !

╰┈➤ takuma ino & shy student!reader, college!au, infidelity, virgin!reader, yapper!takuma ino, corruption kink, slight public groping, car sex, fingering, unprotected sex, pussyjob, creampie, momentary cockwarming, etc.

( anonymous said . . . ) okay, so i was wondering if you could write for takuma ino. the idea was that reader was a shy new student and he immediately becomes obsessed and wants to be with her, but he's currently in a relationship . . . smut with corruption, loss of virginity trope, and some angst . . .

╰┈➤ author's response: i've never written for takuma before so please don't shoot me if you don't feel like the characterization is correct. i was trying to go with possessive while trying to feign like he was a good guy. hopefully you like it because it was a lot of fun writing this fic!

Men are such easy creatures that it’s no wonder that they’re closely compared to animals when it comes to their instincts. A woman can be nice to them once and they’ll take it as a sign that they’re flirting when it can be the very opposite. Takuma always thought of himself as a better man, but he’s proven wrong when you call for attention. Your shadow shields him from the bright lights within the large room, where you didn’t say much to him at all. In a soft voice that barely raised above a whisper, you simply asked, “Is anyone sitting here?” 

He could tell that you were a timid thing, just by the way you instinctively crossed your arms, waiting for him to answer. He thought he was a better man for always being respectful, abiding by people’s boundaries and giving women their space. He was a sweet thing and according to his girlfriend, he could make any girl swoon with his pretty brown eyes. Boyish features that are so adorably hot that he could bag any woman he wanted— according to his girlfriend. And he never took her seriously, fanning off her words, but here he is right now, wondering if he could potentially “bag” you. And he should feel guilty, he really should, but he wants to take it as a conquest now. His curiosity gets the best of him as he asks himself, could he? 

He doesn’t realize he’s staring at you until you feel a sense of discomfort, squirming at his wandering eyes. “I’ll just— I’ll just go find another seat…”

“Wait! My seat’s—” he blurts in an effort to call out for you, but you ignore him and try to find the next open seat with someone else. He curses under his breath, the professor walking through the door and asking everyone to get in their seats. Takuma slouches as he frowns, his bottom lip jutting out as he spins back in the swivel chair as he opens up his iPad. He knew what his girlfriend said was too bullshit to be true. 

The next time Takuma sees you is at the courtyard. He was supposed to be meeting up with his girlfriend for a study session as they share a few classes together under the same major, but you had completely shifted his train of thought that he made a bee line straight towards you instead. Sliding into the vacant seat across from you, he drags your attention away from your laptop and the tupperware of sushi sitting next to it. Your curious eyes quickly turn to a grimace that you best tried to hide when you saw that it was Takuma. “...Hi?”

“Hi,” he responds back in a more chipper tone, though his insides said the very opposite as his heart panged against his chest. “I wanted to apologize about what happened the last time. I was being a creep.”

“Oh.” You hadn’t expected that, the apology catching you off guard that you didn’t know what to say, but when do you ever? He stared at you with those brown eyes. He was cute, you can’t help but admit, but there’s still something unsettling about him. You’re not quite sure if that’s your anxiety talking or just how he shamelessly sat across you, startling your peace. He had good intentions, though, so you tried your best to not put too much thought into it. At the fact that he has yet to leave, you expect that he’s waiting for your forgiveness. “It’s okay.”

However, to your dismay, he’s getting himself comfortable at your self-acclaimed table for the time being, loosening one of the straps over his shoulder as he slings his backpack onto his lap and unzipping it. He asked no questions on your preference, just making himself comfortable as he pulled out his laptop and set it open on the table. His eyes glancing over at you periodically. “Hey, what’s your major? I don’t really recognize you… but then, this is a large campus, so maybe we’re just running into each other this year.”

Should I answer him? The question rang inside your head over and over, a heavy rise in your chest coming to stand as you felt at a loss of breath. He was only trying to be nice, you figured. And it didn’t hurt to be nice back, your inner monologue reminding you. “I’m a… transfer student.”

His eyes brightened at that, eyebrows rising at the newfound information. “A transfer student, oh really?”

He went on like that for the next hour until you saw a figure coming in your direction. A girl with shoulder-length hair that shimmered from a black to a blue. Piercing brown eyes that seemed deadlier than Medusa the moment they landed on her boyfriend before her eyes found yours. They shone of unfamiliarity before they sparked to anger, her perfectly threaded eyebrows knitted together before stomping towards the both of you. “Ino, what are you doing here?”

Face contorting into confusion, Takuma turns around in his seat. Having forgotten all about his girlfriend, he nearly jumps out of his seat at the sight of her. His first instinct is to reach for the phone, the quick glance leading him to curse. “Fuck. Kazua, I’m so sorry… I—”

“Don’t worry about it.” In a flash, the young man— Kazua— brushes her boyfriend off. “We’ll talk about it later.”

You could’ve sworn you heard her say, I probably wouldn’t have gotten a thing done with you there anyway. She shoots you a nasty glare as she storms away, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Takuma doesn’t hesitate to run after her, but his footsteps stagger as he takes a second to look back at you. His movement stops, where his feet shuffle and he’s unsure what to do. It takes him a moment to muster out a “sorry!” before rushing after the angered girl to explain his side of the story. Which turned out useless as Kazua had given Ino the silent treatment— this time, he’s not sure how long for.

Takuma realizes that he really doesn’t have much charm to him in ways that other men have. He learns this through every interaction that he has with you in comparison to every other guy that’s come to approach you. From what he sees, they’re flirting with you — your eyes would light up and you would smile politely as they slid in the seat next to you. They’d spark up a bit of conversation and actually get more than an ounce of words out of you. Every time he approaches you, there’s a grimace in your eyes. Or, maybe it’s all in his head. 

He never notices how you’ve come to make space for him when he approaches. Simply sliding in the seat across from you and talking your ear off. He doesn’t pay attention when you’re starting to pay a bit more attention, your hums of ‘mhm’ are soft, but still a tell-tale sign that you have been listening— that you are listening. And if he had been truly paying attention, he’d notice the small twinkle in your eyes whenever he’s near and the way your lips curve upwards when he says something interesting or humorous. He’s so caught up in his nerves that he’s blinded by anxiety.

It catches him off guard when he finds you perched at the far corner of the bar, barely noticeable if he hadn’t known you. A bar well-frequented by students of the university, Takuma liked to come here particularly after his Friday classes in the evenings to blow off a little steam. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, it was as if you had miraculously appeared there the moment his vision cleared. It was a perplexing sight because he’d never take you for someone to go to bars. However, there you sit, dressed in a spaghetti-strapped top and a denim skirt that falls a few inches below your ass. 

There’s a shred of confidence that rises within Takuma then as he walks up to you. And he falls into routine, grabbing the vacant stool right next to you. The legs scrape the ground and make you jump in fright. Turning your head, your glare quickly turns into a gaze of familiarity, smiling when you see Takuma. “Oh, hi!”

This time he doesn’t miss the sparkle in your gaze. Have you always been looking at him that way? 

Truthfully, while this had been a Friday night where he’d have come to the bar, he had another reason to be here. His girlfriend had finally messaged him, wanting to speak about things from their short break. And usually, when this arose, he wouldn’t hesitate to meet her here, but now that he was, he didn’t feel any hope in their relationship anymore. His phone buzzed in his back pocket, but he ignored its small tickle as he was completely transfixed on you. “I didn’t peg you as someone who goes to bars.”

“I’m not,” you admit. “But I needed to get out of my dorm room… and my roommate was having some guy over.”

Takuma laughs. “The roommate kicking you out sounds more like what happened.”

You nudge him, despite the bemusement in your eyes. From finding him to be a small nuisance to accepting and genuinely enjoying his presence, you’re grateful that Takuma had shown up tonight. You had felt so out of place and your drink tasted horrible. However, you didn’t want to ask for another and waste it. It wasn’t your first time at a bar, but your first time at one alone. While you were one who enjoyed solitude, the bar wasn’t one of those places where you typically sought it. You felt stupid for coming here. Now, Takuma washed away all of those nerves.

Time washed away to something nonexistent. Takuma had ordered you something that tasted sweeter, better than your other drink. He spoke up for you when you were afraid to do it for yourself, and as the night had gotten later, he had grown more handsy with you. A subtle shift in him that you left unquestioned when you felt his hand touch your thigh, him scooting a tad bit closer to you, his legs unparting yours. He continued talking to you, eyes never deterring away from yours and you couldn’t help yourself from the captivation they held. 

Was this what they called liquid courage? You asked yourself. You hadn’t had much of either drinks, an unfamiliarity swirling inside of you as you weren’t aware whether the attraction you felt towards him was genuine or what you’ve had to drink. These emotions had been sweltering inside of you for a while, but what makes now so different? Why does this patter in your heartbeat feel more distinct than the rest?

Is it the hand that continues to be so daring as he leans closer to you, invading your personal space? How he remains so nonchalant, continuously sporting that boyish charm he possesses while he talks to you. Your skirt’s risen up significantly from its original length, and the lights have dimmed to the point where no one can really detect his movement. They can’t really see how he’s gotten his hand slotted against your inner thigh, creeping closer to what he so desires right now. 

He’s stopped talking at some point, but you can’t tell when. Fingers prodding at your clothed pussy, running smooth and tandem circles right against your clit as he watches you try to keep your composure. Your posture’s become slumped, breath becoming more jagged when he applies more pressure. He has to hop down from the stool to pull yours closer, making the wood touch each other as he’s given you no time to react. Your heart simply races as you come to gasp. He tastes sweet, but you’re even sweeter. Sweeter than he’s imagined. 

Nights where he’s spent thinking about you instead of Kazua, concealing his moans and breathy grunts as his fist is wrapped around himself. Oh, how his cock leaked deplorably to the thought of you underneath him. How he’d love to be sheathed inside of your pussy for hours on end, rutting inside of you until your sweet cunt ached and only begged for him. The smell of him was so pungent that the next day, his roommate didn’t need to hear him to know what transpired during his slumber. 

You were such a cute and quiet little thing that managed to get him so worked up, that he wanted to do the same for you. He should’ve felt ashamed the moment the bartender had interrupted, asking the both of them to leave, the moment things became too obvious. His cheeks should’ve reddened like how grew flustered and didn’t want to look anyone in the face on your way out, but he felt so accomplished within himself that he couldn’t. 

You let him lead you to his car, the small silver automobile that was parked not too far from the entrance. His mind led him to contemplate, to wonder what he should do to you, where exactly should he bring you to, but the moment he heard the click of his doors open, he grabbed your hand and let his cock do the thinking for him. You landed on the leather seats with a thud and a yelp falling from your lips, Takuma hoisting you further inside by the hips as he didn’t hesitate to reattach his lips against you. 

Your skirt no longer covered your ass, hiked up so high that it was around your waist now, your bare legs ready for the taking. The heat of his hands travel up and down your thighs, your moans sounding in the car. The moment you feel his erection ground against your core does this all feel too real. Your breath quickens, but not in its haughty need but with anxiousness as a lump starts to form. Suddenly, you’re not kissing him anymore, finding the strength within you to push him off. It has him taken aback, pulling away in concern. That hunger slowly dissipates as he searches for the problem. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I—” You diverted eye contact, finding entertainment in the back of the front seats instead as you struggled to let your confession out. When you do, it’s below a whisper, hard for Takuma to hear with the sounds of the bustling night, but he catches it— “I’m a virgin.”

It should be shameful for the way he felt jovial at the confession. Something that felt so embarrassing for you to admit was something that ignited something deep inside of him. It made him realize that he truly was no better than any other man with the way his cock stirred and how suffocating the air felt even more for you. Those beautiful brown hues within his pupils pool with a darkness that’s so carnal that it has you shrinking within his hold. “Ta—Takuma?”

He snaps out of it, leaving that headspace and returning back to normal. He gets it now — why guys find it so hot to be with a virgin. That feeling of superiority and power over someone so innocent. Gosh, he should’ve expected it. Everything about you screams the word itself. He brings himself to smile, his pearly whites seeming to dazzle in the dim lights of the street lamps shining inside the vehicle windows. Your eyes— those pretty pretty eyes look up at him with concern, but his smile makes it all go away as he utters out, “That’s fine. I’ll take good care of you.”

His fingers are back to prodding at your panties, pretty pink cotton with a wet patch right at the center. He can feel your arousal bubble at every press of his thumb against your clit, rubbing circles and the infinity symbol into you. You’ve a God-given gift bestowed to him. A blessing you truly are to be splayed underneath for the taking. You moan, every action causing a reaction as you buck your hips, begging for more. Your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt and to his skin, tugging him closer to you. You can’t think straight. There’s an ache in your back, pressed deep against the leather of the seats and the tight space is all too much. 

When you imagined this moment, you never imagined it in the back seat of a car, but you want this. You’ve convinced yourself of this and so have those eyes of his. You feel no shame anymore when he parts your panties to the side, the pad of his thumb pushing deep against you. Your juices seep from you, coating his digit in your delicacy as he goes up and down, up and down, up and down. Your inner thighs quiver, the feeling of someone’s touch much better than your own. 

He’s gentle— for the most part. He’d nip at your pump bottom lips, making them swell when he sucks at it. He marks up your skin, creating deep and dark blotches on your flesh that are too high up to be hidden with a shirt. And now that his index and middle finger have entered the mix, teasing the entrance of your sweet cunt, he’s ready to bully your insides with them in his greedy attempts to take care of you. 

He tells you, “gotta stretch you out,” when you whine. When in truth, he’s gluttonous for the sounds that you make. How, your voice gets all high-pitched and your nails dig past the fabric and more into his skin that it’s enough to bruise. However, he’ll be bashful to wake up to them. 

“Ah, Takuma!” you cry out, back arching against the seats as your chest presses into his. Bottom lip still caged by him, he bites down harshly against them and causes you to mewl out in pain. Slowly do those moans become whimpers as he batters your poor pussy with his fingers and the gnawing of his teeth against your supple flesh. It feels like a mockery when he sees you crying, cooing at you ever-so-gently as he asks, “Aww, why are you crying? I’m giving you what your pussy needs.” 

He comes to kiss them away, detaching himself from your lips to taste the salt of your tears and further soothing you with gentle kisses that contrast the drilling of his fingers. He fucks you with those two simple digits, ignoring the way your legs would flex and contract, squirming against his hold. The discomfort of the car soon went on ignored from the immense amount of pleasure, your slick drooling down his fingers as they twisted and twirled inside of you. 

A euphoric dance the two of you partnered in. It never slows down until that knot inside your stomach starts to form, a twinkle of light sparking deep inside of you as your walls pulsate around Takuma and you’re stammering out on your words. “Ino, it feels s–so good… Please, I think ‘m about’ta—”

“Yeah, yeah…” he chuckles. “I know.”

You cream all over his fingers, your body instinctively rolling your hips in efforts to feel the way you do now. He finds you beautiful like this, face contorted in immense pleasure as you gasp out an ‘Oh.’ And fuck, it’s so hot how you paint his digits in a white, that he ruts against the car seat, bashfully tasting your release. His pupils dilate, humming in delight as he presses himself down further into the seats. You’re forced to watch in awe, not that you’re complaining, bucking your hips upward in a silent plea for more of Takuma.

“God, you’re just perfect, aren’t you?” he breathes, not wasting another second with his cock concealed in his jeans. Within the tight confines of the car, Takuma shimmies out of his pants, pulling his underwear down along with it. You’ve maneuvered yourself to lean against the car door, your elbows helping you hold your weight up as you watch Takuma’s cock spring free from the tight fixtures of his pants. It’s pretty, just like him— sporting an average length and exceeding in girth. His uncut tip leaks of arousal, twitching in the stuffy car air as it wants nothing more but to feel your tight walls cage him inside. 

He bet it's nothing like his girlfriend’s. He already knows that you’re sweeter than his girlfriend’s. Your moans are even prettier and more sultry than hers. Because you have something against her, an innocence that still ties you down. And unlike his girlfriend, he’ll be the first to break it. Kazua was always straightforward, never wanting to engage in any foreplay. Never would sex last long with her, but with you? He can take his time.

Precum continues to leak from him, his mushroom head glistening in his arousal as he spreads it. So sensitive from its neglect, he hisses when he touches it. His fingers cold as he wraps his fist around it, giving it a few pumps before hovering more over you. It’s dark outside, minus the street lamps illuminating its light inside of the car. Fortunately, no one has come to see them inside. Takuma can see how your pussy still shines from your orgasm, your pussy lips parted with your creamy essence as you occasionally clench around nothing. 

His thumb has become familiar with you, pressing into your hole and eliciting a twitch from your body. He grabs your leg, a hearty grip on it as he drags you down without warning. You squeal, heart racing as your head hits the leather. Your eyes widen as both of his hands meet your hips to make the both of you further connect. He’s got your legs wrapped around him as he plays with your panties, pulling it back and letting it snap against your pussy. He watches how you flinch when it harshly makes contact with your clit, the slight jump making his cock do the same. 

With his length slotted in between your legs, he moves himself perfectly in between your folds. The pressure of his cock maneuvered in between them, alleviating an ache that was there but never to its fullest degree as you still anticipate for more. For that pop of your cherry. However, he teases you and ultimately himself. With the way he presses his tip right at your clit, letting them kiss whenever he glides upwards. 

“Please…Ino…” You beg, feeling ready for him, like you could take this big leap within your sexuality, you arch your back upwards and press it against him more. The fabric of your top and the friction of both of your chests against each other, tickling the dark nubs of your nipples and overstimulating you even further. You whine and whimper out in need, trying to pull him down and coax with the sensualness of your actions. But to no avail, he holds some restraint over himself. He wants to see how messy that pussy can get— just for him. 

Your slick drools and stains his seats, but he can’t be mad at you. How could he when he’s the cause of all of this? Outside the scene of a noisy Friday night, Takuma can hear how sloppy and loud your cunt is, how your juices sound from the motions of his cock pressed against you. The two of you is all that can be heard, yours and his wanton moans and the wet sound of your tantalizing cunt painting his cock in all that is you. It makes it all the sweeter when he finally prods at your entrance, the head of his cock barely stretching it out before you’re tensing up all nervously.

He tries his best to console you, tries telling you that you’re in the best of care, but who is he kidding when all he wants to do is ruin you. But, he still does, hushing out your nervous cries as you hold onto him so tightly. 

“Shhh…” he draws out. “You’re in good hands here—” Slowly, he enters you, careful enough not to scare you away, but still rough enough to where you’re shedding more tears than necessary. Yet, you convince yourself that it’s all part of the process, that truthfully, Takuma didn’t find pleasure in your pain. Part of it is true when the boy can’t make himself go any further the moment that he’s fully sheathed inside of you, waiting until he feels the hammer in your heart die down and until the grip on the back of his neck loosens and those pretty pretty eyes, all teary for him, finally blinks back open and a gentle nod gives him the okay he needs to keep going. 

It’s a pain that stings you at first, filled with nothing but discomfort the more he rocks his hips. But that same pain dissipates moments later, camouflaging itself with pleasure as your legs tense around him and captures him closer to you. When you cry his name, it’s no longer from the pain in your voice, but a plea for more, an approval to his ego that he’s been successful.

The rock of his car is finally the tell-tale sign that calls for people’s attention, the fog within the glass being evident to what’s happening inside. Some people hurry off in disgust, heading straight to their destination without looking back, others lingering as they find out a new kink about themselves, arousal pooling inside of their pants as well. Through all the commotion outside of the bar as people enter the establishment, whispering about it in disgust, it calls for Kazua’s attention as she’s grown mighty impatient about her boyfriend. He has never been late to the bar, but then again, he’s never been late to a study date. 

The past weeks he’s been occupied with that damn person that she never bothered learning the name of, simply looking at them and finding visceral disgust with them. It only made Kazua more upset at how Takuma wasn’t running to her anymore, pleading for forgiveness. No, he had found company in someone that wasn’t her. It made her furious. Furious enough to where she wanted to break up with him, but also not enough where she had the energy to. 

Standing from her seat around the bar, in the far corner where you previously were— with said boyfriend— Kazua calls it a night, pulling out her phone to text Takuma and tell him off and vent about how he’s such an asshole, but the whispers of some stranger before her called her attention before she clicked send. 

“They’re fucking disgusting,” a feminine voice scoffed in disgust. “Fucking like that in the parking lot— it’s not even empty!”

“Yeah, like, have some decorum and try to find somewhere more secluded at least,” their friend agrees, chiming in. “I don’t get people and their kinks these days. They’ve lost the art of shame.”

More and more people come in, speaking on the same subject, naming that the disgusting culprits aren’t too far from here. As a matter of fact, they’re a couple of steps away. In the pit of her stomach, Kazua has a feeling— a feeling that it could possibly be the man she’s been stood up by. However, she tries to convince herself that it was her nerves, her brain playing tricks on her. Nonetheless, she walks through the front door of the bar, eyes looking down both sides of the parking lot before she spots some passers-by, who just so happen to be pausing by a vehicle. They try to squint, peeping inside before they give up. 

Kazua squirms as she tries to decipher if she should seem like a perverted prick or if she should let ignorance, in fact, be a bliss. However, her feet move for her involuntarily as she clutches herself in the chill of the night. The streetlamps overhead illuminate, brightening itself on the all too familiar vehicle that belongs to her boyfriend— Takuma. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at this feeling of bliss, back no longer on the bottom of the seats as Takuma plunges within you with all of his strength. You’ve exceeded his expectations, proving better than his wet dreams about you as he fucks into your pussy in delight. His moans become louder than yours as he bashfully meets your pelvis with his. Your slick, copious amounts pour from out of you, dripping between the crevice of your ass. That familiar coil in your stomach returns once more, a reminder of what’s to come.

“Ino,” you cry, scratching at the nape of his neck. “Fuuuuckkk, I’m about’ta—”

He kisses you, swallowing your warning whole as well as your moans. He feels his cock twitch inside of you, his pace slowing when he pulls away. “Shit, me, too. Fuck, fuckin’ cum with me. Please.”

You nod, a high-pitched ‘mhm’ falling from you as your mouth goes dry. You clench around him, locking his cock to you as your pussy creates rings around the base of him. Simultaneously, you milk him dry, your pussy swallowing every bit of his release until it’s forced out and dripping down. The both of you pant from exhaustion, Takuma stilling his actions as he’s buried deep inside of you still. 

Those brown eyes of his. They look into yours with glee, the corners of the glistening as he smiles. One last chaste kiss he plants, gently gnawing down on your bottom lips as he’s about to fall against you. However, before he could do so, he heard heavy pounding against the glass. It calls for the both of you to sit up, desperately gasping for air as the two of you immediately suspect the police. However, the feminine voice that rings out in anger halts the male more than it does you. “Takuma!” Kazua yells from the outside, calling even more attention to the both of them now. “You better open up this door right now!”

( author's note. ) please let me know what you thought in the comments. i was a bit nervy writing this uwu.

[jeonginsleftcheek]

The sun to me

Chapter XV. Nurture.

pairing: hwang hyunjin x afab!reader

word count: 3.7k

chapter summary: absence makes the heart grow fonder.

warnings: multiple sex scenes, unprotected sex, creampie, lots of 'i love you's', sweet nicknames and crying, hyune is possessive again

~ Masterlist for the series

~ next part

🌼 Chamomile - healing and comfort.

Deep breath in.

As Hyunjin finally stands on the pier, watching all the people around him laughing, talking and embracing each other, a feeling of familiarity settles deep inside him.

His heart beats fast in his chest, he feels as if it will jump out and run right to you, where it belongs, like it knows he's finally back home.

He tries to calm down with more deep breaths, observing the passengers who were aboard the ship with him, reuniting with their loved ones.

Nobody waits for him on the pier but when his legs finally start working, they take him down the familiar path to your flower shop.

Memories flood his senses, hitting him hard, with sounds, smells, visions, tastes, touches.

It's almost overwhelming as he walks the quiet street, his suitcase breaking the silence against the uneven stones once more.

Hyunjin sees your flower shop coming into view and with hurried steps he approaches it.

The shop is closed on a Wednesday, and there is a note on the door.

Feeling his heart sinking, he steps closer to inspect the note, written in your handwriting.

'Closed until further notice.'

Is what the note says, fear and confusion bubble up inside him, making his stomach churn.

Hyunjin turns and starts taking big strides, walking fast with his suitcase bumping against the ground violently.

There are clouds gathering in the distance, announcing the arrival of a storm that brings the end to the hot summer season.

Hyunjin doesn't notice the clouds, his mind focused only on you, millions of thoughts and worries flashing behind his eyelids.

As he stands in front of your door, he finds himself hesitating for a moment just to take another deep breath in, scared of what will await him on the other side of the door.

Since you never answered, he wonders if you even want to see him.

He knocks and waits, your footsteps coming closer to the door, his heart beats in the same pattern as you come closer to him.

You swing the door open and gasp loudly when you see Hyunjin standing there.

Your heart almost leaps out of your chest and something inside you just wants to fall into his arms and melt into him but confusion overtakes you, as questions start multiplying in your brain, and the hurt you felt during these last few months makes your eyes water.

Hyunjin's soul vibrates when he sees you, but his heart shatters at the sight of you. He can see you're tired, exhausted even, dark circles under your eyes, that glint you had completely dull, your face hung in sadness, there's no sweet smile that would always brighten your face when you look at him.

Neither of you say anything for a moment, your eyes fall down to look at his suitcase then back up at him, and he notices that the necklace he gave you is still around your neck.

A flicker of hope ignites inside him.

"W-what are you doing here?"- you say in shock when you finally find your voice, talking over the lump forming in your throat.

So many nights you had dreamt of your lover appearing at your door, your Hyunjin coming back to you, his arms open and his lips sweet like they always were against yours and now you think it must be just a figment of your imagination.

"I came back to you. Like I promised."- Hyunjin swallows nervously.

"B-but... You never answered my letter."- you say weakly, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks.

"What? Of course I did. As soon as I got your letter, I answered and sent mine."- he looks confused.

"I never got your letter. I- I thought all this time that you moved on. I tried calling you too, but it said that the number no longer exists."

"I had to change my number. You never got my letter? I swear I sent it, I even have a picture of it."

"You really sent me a letter? All this time, you thought I never answered?"- you gulp, a tear sliding down your cheek.

"Yeah, I thought you must have a good reason. I also thought something happened to you, but I didn't want my mind to go to dark places. Eventually, I thought... I thought you just stopped loving me."- Hyunjin's eyes become teary. "I tried calling Isaac's house but then I got this letter."

Hyunjin rummages through his backpack, taking out Isaac's will.

"I thought it was you at first, that you had answered. But, it was Isaac, he left me his house."

"Oh, he did? Makes sense, he loved you like a son. It was really a tragedy and a shock."- you sniffle as you give it back to him.

"I still didn't process it."- Hyunjin looks around, the clouds are now closer and he finally notices them. "May I come in?"

"Of course, of course!"- you nod quickly and Hyunjin comes in and closes the door, leaving his suitcase in the hallway as you walk into the kitchen.

"So... you're still wearing my necklace. That must mean you still have feelings for me?"- Hyunjin asks, his heart fluttering and stomach churning in fear.

Every single day since he left, your pain grew and your soul throbbed with it before the dam finally broke and tears started flowing out your eyes freely.

"Of course I do! I thought you forgot me and replaced me. I thought I'd never see you again, that my greatest fear came true. I thought you stopped loving me."- you sobbed and Hyunjin's tears started sliding down his cheeks too.

"I could never stop loving you y/n, you're my soulmate and the love of my life. You're the only thing that kept me going this summer. I had the hardest time and wished every day to have you next to me. Thinking of seeing your beautiful face and falling into your arms again gave me courage and hope."- Hyunjin confesses.

"I wished every day to have you next to me too. Nothing made sense without you here. Not even my flowers gave me comfort, they just made me miss you even more."

Both of you sobbed and Hyunjin couldn't wait anymore, his heart and body craving you deeply, his arms wrapped around you and he pulled you into his embrace.

A choked sob escaped your lips when you felt his warmth and his familiar scent, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist.

"I missed you so much."- you cry.

"I missed you too, my flower."- Hyunjin cries too as you cling onto each other.

Almost blindly you search for each other's lips, everything else around you disappears and melts away as the two of you connect again through a kiss full of feelings yet unspoken, making up for the lost time with a fiery passion.

Your hands are restless, touching his hair, his face, his chest as he grips onto you, pulling you closer into his body, kissing you with all he has.

Somehow you stumble back and Hyunjin presses you into the wall, his hands sliding under your dress.

Your hand flies sideways from the impact, accidentally knocking down a few trinkets you had on the table, as they clatter on the floor but neither of you care.

"I love you so much."- he says against your lips, the taste of both of your tears salty and painful.

"I love you so much, Jinnie. I need you. I need you so bad."- you cry, your tears an overflowing river, wilding through your whole body and coming out in waterfalls.

"I need you too my love."- Hyunjin says with matching emotion, his hands grip your thighs as he kisses your face and neck, teeth biting into your skin and tongue coming out to soothe the pain.

"Take me, Hyunjin."- you whine, tugging at his pants, you have missed the feeling of him inside you, of being one with him.

He doesn't waste any time as he pulls his pants and boxers down, gripping your thighs and hoisting you up in his strong arms, your back pressed against the wall.

You gasp and whimper, grabbing at his shoulders.

You wrap your legs around him as he somehow manages to sneak his hand between your legs and move your panties to the side.

No more words were needed in that moment, your bodies spoke before your lips did as Hyunjin slowly pushed his cock inside you, the familiar stretch making you moan loudly as you dig your nails into his skin.

Hyunjin groans at the warm feeling of you wrapped around his length and his thrusts are immediately fast and hard as you hold onto each other like you're afraid one of you might disappear.

"Ah, ah, Jinnie, more!"- you cry and he kisses you before he grips your flesh, leaving bruises in his wake and fucking your harder, bringing you down on his cock perfectly as the tip touches the deepest parts of you.

"My love. My muse."- Hyunjin fucks into you desperately, his hips erratic and stuttering as he keeps groaning.

You already feel close, the euphoria of being in his arms and at his mercy, finally seeing his face and feeling him inside you and around you, you let go and explode on his cock, clenching around him and making him even more wet.

"F-fuck love, I need to cum!"- Hyunjin groans.

"Inside, cum inside me!"- you whine, your arms wrapped around him tightly and nails digging into his upper back.

Hyunjin whimpers loudly, his cock twitches and you feel his hot cum filling up your pussy and you take it as he rides his high, fucking into you until you get every last drop of him.

His legs tremble for a moment as you hold onto each other, breathing hard, you feel dizzy as your ears ring and finally you smile.

"You're really here."- you look at him.

"I'm really here, my love. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for letting you down and making you think I forgot you. I'm sorry for not coming back sooner or making a better effort to contact you."

"Jinnie, it's not your fault. I guess the letter got lost and created a misunderstanding."- you start as he slowly pulls out of you and you feel his cum slide down your inner thigh.

You grip onto his arms when your feet touch the ground, your legs like jelly.

"Still, I feel so bad that you were so lonely and sad all this time. I could've tried harder." - Hyunjin says as he holds you.

"I'm happy now that you're here."- you lean on his chest and he grips you tighter.

"I'll never leave you again, I promise. I can't live without you."- he kisses the top of your head, caressing you.

"I can't live without you either. I love you."- you look at him and he smiles.

"I love you so much, my flower."- he kisses you gently, sweetly to remind you of the tender love he has showed to you before, now in your arms again.

It feels as if all the shattered pieces of your hearts are slowly coming back together, making you feel whole again.

After cleaning up and brewing a fresh cup of coffee, Hyunjin and you sit on your couch, arms wrapped around each other, your legs in his lap as you don't want to spend any moment apart.

"I thought you put up my paintings. You said you were considering doing it in your letter."- Hyunjin says, his fingers raking through your hair.

"I did. I took them down when I thought you wouldn't come back. It hurt to look at them."- you sigh.

"I'm sorry, darling."- Hyunjin's arms tighten around you.

"It's fine, we can redecorate. Um, that brings me to a question."

"Yes, my love?"

You look up at him to find him looking at you with an endearing smile on his face and you can't help but smile back.

"Do you still want to move here?"- you ask quietly, hoping he'll say yes.

"If you'll have me."

"Of course I want you here. But, what about Isaac's house?"

Hyunjin bites his lip in thought.

"I have an idea. Would you like to open up a gallery with me? In Isaac's honor, I think he would love that."

"Jinnie, that's a wonderful idea!"

"I would like to have his pieces there too, a museum of sorts. And also yours if you're okay with that."- Hyunjin smiles at you.

"Ours together?"

"Mhm."- he nods, kissing you every two minutes between talking. Because it's never enough.

"I really like the thought of that. It's perfect, Isaac would totally be behind that."- you chuckle a little.

"Can we visit his grave one of these days? I want to pay my respects to him."- Hyunjin asks.

"Of course, I go there a lot to bring fresh flowers anyways."- you say and Hyunjin kisses your head.

You sit in silence for a few minutes, just soaking each other in as the thunder rolls in from the distance.

"You said you had a hard time? What happened?"- you sit up and look at Hyunjin.

"Ugh I- I kinda punched my manager. Broke his nose. He sued me and tried to ruin my career. So I had to fight him in court. He also leaked my number and I got harassed, that's why I changed it."- he shrugs.

"Hyunjin! How can you say all of that so nonchalantly?!"- you gasp.

"It's behind me now. I fought well, you'd be so proud of me if you were there."- he smiles.

"You went through all of that alone."- you shake your head and then grab his face gently. "I wish I could've been there with you to at least be your mental and emotional support."

"Baby, it's okay. I thought of you 24/7 and I was looking forward to seeing you, even when I thought you didn't answer, I told you, you were my only hope."- he convinces you with a sweet kiss.

"Is it all settled now?"

"Yes, thankfully. It was hell."- Hyunjin pauses for a second to listen to the thunder becoming louder and louder, rain slowly starting to drizzle.

"Hey, it's like that time we confessed to each other."- Hyunjin remarks.

"Better get the candles out, just in case."- both of you chuckle, actually getting up and putting candles around the living room.

Just like that night, you spend the entire time kissing and holding each other, feeling even more thankful than before that you get to be in each other's embrace.

As the rain pours down, the wind wilds and the thunder keeps rolling in, you're safe in your little cocoon. With every kiss you erase an ounce of pain, coming closer to the happiness you shared before, every doubt and fear fading away slowly, each caress compensating for the time your bodies craved each other, every smile shared between you mends your hearts, shaping you into the two lovers you once were, finally reunited and stronger than before.

And when the lights go out, only the flicker of the candles bring in the luminescence that casts the shadow of two bodies connected as one in a dance of love and passion.

In the freshness of the morning, you slowly wake up, your limbs tangled with your lover's, a smile appears on your face as you take a deep breath in.

The gentle breeze coming from your window caresses your exposed skin, as the two of you fell asleep naked, hot against each other.

The smell of fresh rain mixing with the comforting and familiar scent of Hyunjin brings you into a soft state of mind, your body relaxing even further into the soft blankets.

Hyunjin stirs awake, nuzzling his face into your neck immediately, a little groan escaping his lips.

He presses them against your pulse, lingering there, still half asleep.

Your foot slides on his calf, touching him gently, your hand in his soft hair.

"Can we stay in bed all day?"- he mumbles into you and you chuckle, pressing a kiss into his forehead.

"We can do whatever we want to."- you say and he looks up at you.

"That sounds perfect."- Hyunjin lifts up so he's on top of you and he leans in to kiss you.

Like you haven't spent all night loving on each other, your entire being craves him again.

Hyunjin's hands cup your breasts, his fingers playing with your nipples and you whimper into him, feeling ten times more sensitive in the morning.

He leaves kisses from your jawline down to your breasts, sucking on your nipple as his hand massages your other breast.

You arch into him, craving his touch again and again as his hands slowly trace down to your legs and he spreads them, fingers instantly on your wet folds.

"J-Jinnie."- you whimper as he sucks on your breasts, looking at you intently, fingertips playing with your sensitive clit and getting you more and more wet for him.

"I need you."- he presses his face into the crook of your neck, and you feel his hard cock press against your pussy.

"Mm. Please."- you whimper, hips lifting up on their own to get more friction.

Hyunjin pushes in easily, as you take all of him eagerly, holding onto him.

The tiny bit of soreness you feel from last night's activities dissolves into pleasure as he slowly drags his length inside you.

His eyes are intense on you, arms locked around your head as he leans his body on yours, moving his hips ever so slightly, driving you crazy with the little movements deep inside you.

Your legs are spread completely as you meet his slow thrusts, and Hyunjin's eyes suddenly soften and he lets out a giggle.

"What?"- you smile.

"I love you."- your heart warms up a little more every time he says it.

"I love you, Jinnie."- you say gently and he leans down to kiss you, his hips gentle and forgiving.

"Every moment I spent away from you hurt so bad."- Hyunjin gasps.

"Yes, me too. I thought I was all alone."

"You will never feel lonely again, my sweet darling."- Hyunjin keeps kissing you as both of you whisper sweet things to each other, making up for all the lost moments.

You don't know how much time you spend like that, just lazily fucking into each other as you touch, kiss and worship.

The tension builds with the sudden downpour of rain outside and Hyunjin grabs your wrists, pressing them down into the matress on either sides of your head as his hips snap into you faster.

You're so wet that he slips into you so easily, hitting you just right and you start moaning as your eyes flutter in pleasure.

"Mm, my love. So good. So warm."- Hyunjin groans.

"Made for you."- you gasp when he pulls out almost all of his length just to snap his hips hard into you.

"Yes, just for me. You're mine. Mine."- he repeats, his hips snapping faster and faster into you as he holds your wrists above your head.

"Only yours, Jinnie."- you whine, giving into the pleasure completely, knowing you're both close to the highest point of euphoria.

"Fuck you take it so well. You were made for this."- he groans as he looks at you with eyes full of lust.

"H-Hyunjin!"- you whimper as he snaps his hips into you, now becoming relentless and unforgiving.

"My muse."- Hyunjin fucks you hard as the bed creaks and your eyes fill with tears of pleasure.

He can see that you're close and he wants nothing but to see you satisfied.

"Cum for me, love. Give me all your pleasure."- he says, your bodies heated and sweaty from the exertion, only serving to ignite the passion between you more.

"Mm, yes Hyunjin!"- you whimper as you let go, thousands of fireworks exploding inside you as he keeps moving his hips until he cums, painting your insides white.

Both of you breathe hard, hands grabbing at each other before Hyunjin smiles at you.

"You okay?"- he asks gently, like he did before and you still can't believe that your lover is actually back.

"Better than okay."- you nod. "You?"

"I'm so happy. Relieved, even. Like I want to spend the rest of my life like this with you."- Hyunjin exhales as he lays his cheek on your shoulder.

"Me too, but I think we'd die from thirst and hunger pretty quickly if we never got out of bed."- you giggle as you caress him.

"I would die happy."- his hand is on your face as he traces your features.

It feels too good to move, him still being inside you and even though his cock is soft now, your pussy still clenches around it.

"Wanna go again?"- Hyunjin smirks.

"No, I need a break."- you quickly shake your head with a chuckle.

"Doesn't seem so to me, but whatever you say."- he jokes before he finally slides out of you, making you whimper when you feel his cum drip out of you.

Hyunjin's eyes are trained on your core and he gently touches you with his fingertips, playing with his cum.

"I really missed you. All of you. My bed was so cold and empty, I had to hug my pillow every night and imagine it was you."- Hyunjin says.

"I hugged my pillow every night wishing it was you instead, too."- you confess and he chuckles.

"My sweet girl."- he leans down to kiss you gently. "I still feel like I have to make it up to you, for making you feel hurt and abandoned."

"You being here is enough, Jinnie."- you say as your fingers tangle in his hair and you play with the soft locks.

"I hope so, because I don't plan on leaving any time soon."

It feels like the rain brought fall with it, as the island was starting to become empty again.

The tourists were leaving back to their normal lives, back to their jobs and their homes.

They gave you back your cove, your hill, your beach, even the little uninhabited island was cleaned out again.

Life gave you back your lover, and your heart was finally in one piece.

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @laylasbunbunny @porangporangmeong @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @simpforleeknaur @laughatdanger @lixies-favorite-cookie @linavc @quokkacidal @thisaintredwine @m00gyu @yaorzu-blog @skzfelixlove @tajannah-price1 @puccaaak @aft2rsexs @xxkissesforchanniexx @aprilmaejune77 @lilmeowneow @stayjinnie @astrobebba @danihwang882 @kaysungshine @nchhuhi @1810cl @chartrucewhore @babigriin @jisuperboard @alisonyus @minluvly @instantsoulnight @kkamismom12 @its-stayville-forever @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @lemonadeboun @eastjonowhere

[lastdivantruther]

A short (!) take on why this goofy ass page is the best introduction to HunterXHunter's characters:

Or, an alternative title, why Togashi is the best liar in the world and why it makes him the best story-teller.

I've spent my afternoon writing this because I couldn't stop thinking about the ship scene at the start of the story for a month now. Rest is under the cut.

Starting this page, as these three introduce themselves, the speech patterns they use already say something about them:

Kurapika's is polite and to the point, using the gender neutral I, 私 (watashi), while Gon's is simple with casual and more masculine おれ (ore), and Leorio's is more pompous, also using the casual おれ (ore).

When the captain asks about their motives, Gon is first one to answer, that is expected of course. As we know him he is a bright and pure and happy kid who trusts easily, right? Right?

I'll come back to it for another time. Let's look at the others.

Both Kurapika and Leorio refuses the talk about their motivations. That's the first similarity of them which is shown to us. Kurapika giving a more through answer on why, which shows his thought process clearly. He also completely ignores Gon and Leorio until Leorio annoys him.

When he is finally forced to talk, we see a polite but cold boy with an honorable and tragic mission he has to pursue. Or that's the image he wants the audience, and most importantly himself to see. We also take the first hint about Kurapika's relationship with the idea of his death.

Leorio literally shouts all his motives, and he clearly is only in it for money. This is our first impression on him, and it's what he wants the audience to see.

This is the second similarity between Leopika the manga shows us. They both lie about who they are, to their audience and to themselves. (Because we already can guess at this point that these two are not of a good actor to pull of such a lie without believing it themselves.)

Next scene shows us how much they care about this image they've drawn to hold. They even put their own, and the opponent's life to a risk for it.

And then fallowing this one is my favorite scene, where all their lies and personas shatter. It's such a simple scene but it makes us see everyone from a new light. Everyone? You might ask, Gon and Kurapika already showed their altruistic side, right?

Here, let me explain:

They are at the hull on the ship, in the middle of the storm and they both focused at each other, ready to strike.

Then, a man falls over the ship.

We already know this part. Both forget the fight instantly and run to the guy. Both fall short of reaching him. We see the moment of them realizing that their efforts are useless.

That's the scene where their true character's shown. For one thing, we see that Leorio, even though he talks like a selfish person, cares enough of another to let go of his pride (a fight he was there to protect his pride). And we see that Kurapika (and Leorio too), even though he is after an honorable mission to an extent he's ready to throw away his life, it isn't extended to things other than his mission. That they still prioritize themselves before the others. Because even though both reached out to the fallen guy to save him, they still hold onto the railings, and stop before their lives can be in danger.

I know I talked a lot but this 2 panels explain a lot about their characterization without telling us a single word.

Then here comes Gon.

At first this can be accused to Gon's altruism, him being the shounen MC, feelings, talk no jutsu etc. But there is more to that. We know that Gon doesn't care if people puts their lives in danger knowingly. We can deduct it from his attitude to Leopika's fight. No, this scene isn't there to show his altruistic side, it's here to show his single-mindedness and his instinct over people's nature.

That's the first scene he puts his live in danger without even giving a thought, and there is more to come. Rest of the scene also shows that Gon trusts people easily, instinctively, but he's mostly right about it.

Anyway, to finish up this mess of a take, what Togashi did here is to create space where characters can introduce themselves the way they wanted. Then tear it all off by forcing them to act as who they are by putting them in a life-and-death situation. And that's peak writing to me.

Finishing off with a Hot Leorio Panel.

Sayonara you weebo shits.

[sea-buns]

Forgive me if I'm a bit nervous about Gorgug this season. It's just that the last Zac Oyama pc was Colin Provolone, who was arguably one of his greatest D20 performances, if not the greatest.

Zac always does great with every pc he plays, but Colin was something else. He came out swinging with actions and words that were teeming with unspoken emotional baggage. The way Colin's presence affected the other pcs; there was this level of depth that I don't think I've seen in any of his other characters. It was understated and quiet in that signature "just a guy" way that he tends to be, while still captivating everyone instantly with just how raw it was.

Not to say we haven't seen emotional depth in Gorgug. It's just that, compared to the other Bad Kids, Gorgug's journey and progression as a character has been very... impersonal? Like, yes, he found his birth parents, and he found friends who appreciate him, and he faced his insecurities about his intelligence, and he navigated relationship troubles, and his trial through the claustrophobic bug-tunnels was a horrifically-uncanny parallel to how he's spent his entire life trying to make himself as small as possible.

But how much of that has actually changed him from the Gorgug we started with? I would agree that he's definitely happier with his life, given all the loving and supportive people that have been added to it when it used to be just him and his parents. And he's certainly grown into himself and become more self-assured in his abilities, even if he's still, and always will be, our anxious little guy. And there's nothing wrong with that. I've always liked how Gorgug was a representation of all the little things. The subtle acts and kindnesses that don't seem like much to most, but to some are everything.

We don't need another Bad Kid living in fear that their mouth could be shit-in at any moment. We've already got one-too-many.

All that being said, I just feel like Gorgug's personal story beats are much easier to sweep under the rug than everyone else's. He has the same soft and understated quality that Colin held, but they lack that extra oomph that pushed Colin over the edge from being just another guy in a series of dudes, to a character that the vast majority of us could not get out of our heads. He took someone who was anxious and softspoken, who ultimately never wanted to be violent— someone who is remarkably similar to Gorgug in many ways— and maintained that demeanor and core in Colin's character while still hitting us in the feels with character development at max velocity at every turn.

I think Zac gets better and better at this with every season that goes by. With each new character, there is always something that leaves me stunned in awe. And it's been, what, three? Four years since we last saw Gorgug?

I'm just,,, I'm cautiously optimistic but also going into a bit of a worry about what violence this man may inflict upon us

[the-busy-ghost]

Warning- this is a very petty post, but I think I'm entitled to at least one petty, pissed-off reaction every time I finish a classic novel that hit harder than I expected so take this as my quota for the year.

Also spoiler warning for a book that came out over a century ago but still, I didn't know the plot going in so don't want to ruin it for anyone else, if you haven't read it shut your eyes. (Also Local Tumblr User Going Wild Over Book Published a Hundred Years Ago That Everybody Else Already Read should probably be categorised as akey part of indigenous tumblr culture at this point).

Anyway I just finished the War of the Worlds and in between studying I've thinking about Themes and Motifs as you do, and idly looking for further analysis. I then accidentally ran into an article called 'A Quiet Place II Succeeds Where the War of the Worlds Failed' and:

Now I haven't seen any of the Quiet Place films, this is not a rant against them and of course everyone is entitled to their own opinions. But re: the ending of The War of the Worlds, I have to ask, did this guy somehow miss, uh, the entire point of the book or am I just utterly insane?

[seonghwaddict]

save a horse, ride your best friend — song mingi

in which your best friend can’t believe you’ve never ridden a dick before, so he takes it upon himself to teach you.

best friend!song mingi x fem!reader. requested by anon. genre. slight fluff. smut. best friends to friends with benefits. warnings. explicit sexual content mdni, inexperienced!reader, thigh riding, fingering, use of a dildo, big dick!mingi, multiple orgasms, unprotected, creampie, swearing, nicknames (baby, angel, pretty). wc. 4k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. this was requested a while ago but i’ve been putting it off because… i’ve never written anything about toys being used so uh, i was worried about the pacing and stuff. i wasn’t sure if you meant for them to be in an established relationship, so i went for the fwb route. IMPORTANT!!!! i lost access to my google account bc of a stupid mistake, if you sent in a request through my google form and would still like me to see it, please send it as an ask <33 i remember a few of them, but do send yours in just in case!!

listening to. need to know, doja cat // if u think i’m pretty, artemas // moonlight, kali uchis

masterlist.

it was a regular saturday evening. you were on a video call with your best friend, mingi, talking about anything that came to mind as you each ate a bowl of ramen as if you were really in the same room. he really only lived a couple buildings away, a two minute walk at most, but actually joining you in your apartment didn’t cross his mind until something interesting was brought up.

you weren’t sure what led to the conversation, but somehow it steered into the direction of something less innocent as you found yourself talking about an embarrassing date you’d gone on a while ago. recounting the story, laughing together, soon turned into a conversation about what each of you like in bed.

“oh, it’s just amazing,” mingi laughed as he gulped down a mouthful of water, momentarily pausing his rambling about how much he loves it when someone rides his dick. he ran a his hand through his short, washed-out pink hair, “honestly, my favourite thing ever since it probably feels just as good for whoever is, y’know, riding.”

based on everything he’s said so far, you came to the conclusion that he was more into giving than receiving, that he got off on seeing all the pleasure he can give his partner. so, it made sense he’d choose to mention the fact that riding him would feel good. not that you would know.

“can i admit something?”

he looked up from his bowl, sharp eyes looking almost hopeful as he nodded.

you looked around your kitchen jokingly, pretending to make sure no one sense was listened as you leaned closer a whispered, your hand cupping the side of your mouth.

“i’ve never done that before.”

his jaw dropped at that, letting out a small laugh. “you’re kidding.”

“no, really,” you insisted, going back to eating casually as if you were having the most normal conversation in the world with your best friend, “i really haven’t done… much, so i can’t confirm or deny your theory.”

“huh.” he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he thought for a moment. his head tilted and it was then that you felt how warm your cheeks felt, how your thighs were pressed together under the counter. of course, he was well aware of the fact that you had much less experience than him, only knowing about two people you had slept with. but damn. he clicked his tongue and shook his head ever so slightly. “that won’t do.”

furrowing your eyebrows, you opened your mouth to ask him what he had meant by that. he beat you to it before you could get a word out.

“i can… teach you, if you want?”

you blinked at your screen, resting your wrist on your countertop and gripping your chopsticks a little too hard. a silence followed his offer, though it wasn’t awkward. in fact, he could see you genuinely considering it as you thought it over. eventually, you gave him a tiny nod.

“i mean,” you shrugged, shifting your eyes away shyly, “sure, i guess. why not?”

he grinned, trying to hide it as he shoved a mouthful of noodles into his mouth and shoved his bowl aside. he chewed, swallowed then got up and made sure to bring his phone with him. you recognised his hallways then bedroom as he walked through his apartment. “i’ll be there in like 15, i need to buy something on the way. just wait there, and where something comfortable and… um, accessible.”

you nodded, despite your confusion, and he hung up. accessible? you looked down at your clothing—or rather, lack thereof. since you were home and not expecting anyone, you’d settled on wearing just a shirt you stole from mingi that was too large for him and much larger for you, and panties. you lifted the hem of the worn shirt, assessing how much of your dignity you’d lose if he saw your pink hello kitty undergarments that you only wore if you were doing laundry.

you could already hear him giggling at the sight.

groaning and cursing under your breath, you dropped the shirt and sped to your bedroom to dig through your closet in hopes of finding something a little more appealing. after making a mess of one of your closet’s drawers, you finally pulled out a pair of less offensive panties. they were made of soft cotton; a muted light blue with thin white lace trim, the cut shaped more like a bikini than what you call your grandma underwear.

deciding they were flattering enough, you slipped off your hello kitty pair—ignoring the embarrassing amount of wetness creating a wet patch right where it was pressed against your core—and replaced it with the new pair. as you untwisted the waistband and adjusted it to fit properly, your doorbell rang and you froze on the spot before pulling yourself together and heading to open the door.

the walk to the door felt abnormally long as you stumbled over on wobbly knees. admittedly, you were a little nervous. sure, there have been times where you wanted to do some more than friendly activities with mingi, but you never actually thought it was happen. yet here you were, opening the door for him so he could come in and show you what being a cowgirl feels like.

“hey,” he greeted you softly, stepping into your home and closing the door behind him. you noticed a small plastic bag in his hand, eying it curiously as you watched him kick off his shoes and hang up his coat. once that was of the way, he took one of your hands in your free one and pulled you to where he knew your bedroom was.

once there, he set the bag down on your bedside table and dragged you to stand between his knees as he took a seat on the edge of your bed. he looked you over, lingering on the familiar t-shirt.

“so you’re the one that took this shirt, huh?” he quirked an eyebrow, glancing up at you as he released your hand and brought both of his to your hips. his thumbs caressed the curve of your waist over the shirt. “it was my favourite.”

you laughed softly, “clearly you didn’t care enough if i was able to keep it for three years without you noticing.”

“you little thief.” his nose scrunched as he glared at you jokingly, giving you a gentle squeeze.

“if you really want it back, you can always take it.”

“nah, it’s fine, keep it. it looks cuter on you anyway.” he took a breath and gave you another once over, humming appreciatively when he moved his hands up higher, dragging the shirt with it until he caught a glimpse of your panties. you tensed, caught off guard by how close he felt. “i need you to relax a little, how about i help you loosen up, yeah?”

you nodded, averting your gaze but returning it to him when you felt him pull you onto his lap. he slotted one of his legs between yours, easing you down to straddle his thigh. his hands ran up and down your sides and few times before resting on your bare thighs, your breath stuttered and he held back a smile.

“are you still okay with this?” he asked quietly, absentmindedly playing with the hem of his your shirt. “if i do anything that makes you uncomfortable, just tell me and i’ll stop immediately and we can just watch a movie or something, okay?” when you only nodded, he continued, “i need you to say it, please.”

“i’m okay with this,” you muttered in return, resting you hands on his biceps, “and i’ll let you know if i need you to stop.”

“good, now…” without waiting any longer, he leaned forward to attach his lips to your neck, his hands slowly beginning to rock you back and forth on his lap.

you sucked in a sharp breath and clung into his arms a little tighter, your stomach fluttering at the feeling of your clothed cunt on his firm thigh, your panties dragging against your clit with ease thanks to how wet you already were. he lifted you slightly as he pulled you towards him, pushing you down as he pushed, the varying pressure making your lips part in a soft whimper. he nearly groaned at the sound, moving his lips right below your ear.

“you know,” he rasped between the licks and kisses, “i can’t deny that i’ve wanted to fuck you for a long, long time now.”

“r-really?”

mingi chuckled as he pulled back to look at your face, half surprised and half needy. he noticed that if he relaxed his hands, you’d continue grinding against his thigh.

“yeah, really. i mean, look at you,” he glanced down, one of his hands lifting the hem of your shirt to watch you ride his thigh slowly, a dark wet patch forming right where your leaking pussy sat. he bit his lip, “you look so perfect… and i bet you’d feel perfect, too.”

you nearly whined at that, fucking yourself on his thigh just a little faster as he sucked a dark mark right above your collarbone before returning to mutter dirty words into your ear.

“i know practically everything about you and your cute little body, you know. better than anyone else,” one of his hands inched it’s way up your thighs, brushing against the edge of your panties, “i’ll make you feel so good, angel, i promise.”

“mingi?” you whimpered, prompting him to lean back a little to look at you with a curious tilt of his head and a raised brow. “if you don’t shut up and kiss me right now, i might lose my mind so… please.”

his beautifully plump lips stretched into a smile as he wasted no time in practically pouncing forward and smashing his lips against yours. it started a little slow as you got acquainted with each other, despite the fact you could feel a nearing orgasm as a knot in your stomach drew tighter with each roll of your hips, but soon the kiss turned hungry.

he groaned into your mouth as you let his tongue explore, making you let out a quiet moan. mingi knew he wouldn’t be able to kiss anyone ever again. you, his best friend of all people, had the most inviting lips he’s ever felt. so inviting, so perfect and so soft. he thought everything about was soft. his hand slipped just under the edge of your panties as his other one made your grinds slow down.

you didn’t mind the slow pace, knowing just a few more rocks of your hips would have you tipping over the edge. but he evidently had other plans as he finally made your hips still completely. you pulled away from his lips with a pout. if you were trying to make him feel bad, it backfired terribly.

all he could think of as he looks at your swollen, red, wet, pouty lips is how much prettier they’d look wrapped around his cock. but he could save that for another time.

“there’s no need to rush, baby,” he chuckled, wiping some saliva away from your bottom lip.

eventually, when he was sure you had calmed down enough, he lifted you off his lap a little and turned to lay you down on your back, pressed against the comfortable mattress as he kneeled on the edge. he gripped your knees and bent them, pushing them closer to your chest with his eyes zeroed in on where your slick was leaking through your panties.

with one hand keeping your knees together and elevated, he ran his other over the fabric, pressing down on where he knew your clot would be and elicit a sweet little moan as you squirmed beneath him. he thought you were so cute like this, you looked so flustered as he gave you nothing but featherlight touches where you needed him most. for now.

“don’t get all shy on me now,” he cooed as he glanced up and noticed you covering your face with your hands, “let me see you, pretty.”

he didn’t continue his touches until you finally removed your hands, giving him a nice view of your abused lips and round eyes, pupils blown wide with lust in a way that had something stirring in his abdomen. and his pants.

he let down your knees for a moment so both of his hands could slip under the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs. he actually moaned when he saw the strings of arousal clutching onto the fabric as he dragged it away, snapping when he got too far.

“you’re so pretty, baby,” he murmured, watching your entrance squeeze around nothing, making more slick drip out.

after tossing it aside, he wasted no time in getting your knees back to the previous position and running his fingers through your folds.

“oh, fuck,” he groaned, eyes squeezing shut for a moment as you let out a moan when he tapped against your clit, “you’re soaked.”

he glanced up at you, wanting to see your face as he slowly pushed in too fingers and catching a glimpse of your hard nipples poking through your shirt. your face contorted for s fraction of s second before relaxing, your head tipping back against the mattress as you let out a whine.

he choked back a moan at the tight walls around his middle and ring fingers, the fingers of his other hand digging into your thighs. “sh-shit… you’re so tight. i’m gonna have to stretch you out first, okay?”

you nodded mindlessly, too distracted by his fingers prodding at your sweet spot to care about any words he may have said. but you furrowed your eyebrows and lifted your head when you felt both his hands leave you, finding him reaching for the bag. your curiosity outweighed your disappointment as he pulled something out.

it was a dildo. about as thick and long as the biggest person you had before, and made of what looked to be transparent silicon. your insides tightened at the sight, somehow the thought of him seemingly buying this just for you turning you on even more.

he returned to kneeling at the edge of your bed, leaning down to loop his arm around your waist and lift you up to place a pillow under your hips before letting lay back down.

“couldn’t find one my size, but this should be fine,” he held the dildo and ran the tip through your pussy, collecting wetness as you shuddered, “my cock will just have to stretch you the rest of the way.”

you breath hitched at the implication of his words. so he was bigger than that? your thighs pressed together at the thought of being completely stuffed by him. he chuckled, separating your knees enough for him to have a clear view of your pussy, pulsing and dripping and begging for his attention.

he began slipping the toy into you, filling you up inch by inch and watching your needy hole stretch around it and swallow it up. the sight had him choking back a moan, biting down on his bottom lip.

the stretch had your back arching and pushing yourself against it desperately, feeling like that alone could get you to finish. it only took a few deep strokes for your pussy to get used to the size, squeezing and writhing around it until you couldn’t handle it anymore. your arousal coated it quickly and seeped out with each stroke, squelching sounds filling the room that shot straight to his dick.

when you finally came, your toes curled and your body twitched as you let out a string of and whines and moans, little curses slipping between. he watched with fascination as you came undone right beneath him, not wanting to wait any longer to be inside you. he shoved the toy deep inside you, leaving it there as he leaned back for a moment to discard his clothes, slipping his hoodie and sweatpants off.

when you were brought back to your senses, you found yourself on his lap again, straddling his hips this time as he sat with his back against your headboard. you felt his erectile straining against his boxers and pressing against your core. you couldn’t help but rock your hips against his slowly.

“do you ever ride your pillow?” he asked suddenly, voice dropped what felt like two octaves lower than his regular tone. your eyes widened at the question but you nodded. he nodded too, his hands finding your ass and helping you grind against his clothes length. “this is a lot like that, except you have something in you… and it’s more of an up and down movement… and i’m obviously not a pillow… still, there’s really no right way to do it, just go slow and you’ll figure out what works and what doesn’t. plus, i’m here to guide you.”

he gave your ass a squeeze as if to punctuate his sentence, massaging the soft flesh in his palms. when you felt ready, you dropped your hands from his shoulders to his boxers, palming his length a few times before hooking your fingers into the fabric and dragging it down until his cock sprung out.

he definitely wasn’t lying when he said it would stretch you more than the already-big dildo. he was definitely a lot bigger than anyone else you’ve been with, well over average. you nearly dropped at the sight, wrapping your hand around him and jerking him off, eyes fixated on the angry red tip leaking precum as you passed your thumb over it.

the muscles of his abs rippled and squeezed as your worked your hands on his cock, his head thrown back against the headboard and letting out stuttering moans. all the sounds he made encourage you to sit up on your knees, guiding him through your folds and whimpering as you finally sank down on him carefully.

the two of you moaned at the same time, him at how well you squeezed around him and you at how well he stretched you. you stopped when you reached just halfway, unsure whether or not you’d be able to fit more. his hips jerked slightly as his hands squeezed your hips.

“come on, baby,” he moaned softly, looking up at you with encouraging eyes, “just a little more… we can make it fit, right? just breathe.”

you nodded and as you took a deep breath, he used his hold on your to sink you further down until he finally bottomed out. he cursed silently, the back of his head finding the headboard again as you whined and dropped yours onto his shoulder.

you felt his tip pushing against your cervix, the new feeling making a lump form in your throat as you blinked back tears. this time it took a while to get used to the stretch before you tried grinding back and forth. it was slow, almost painfully so. he was amazed that despite stretching you with two different things, you were still so unbelievably tight, hugging him in a death grip as your raised your hips an inch before dropping down again.

your soft noises were muffled by his shoulder as your hands rested on his biceps, panting and squeezing gently as every inch of him dragged against the sensitive spongy patch in your walls every time you grinded on him. soon enough you were able to lift yourself to his tip and drop all the way down, your wetness letting him slip in and out with ease.

still, you kept the pace torturously slow, savouring each bounce and grind. his hands had left your hips at some point, exploring your body under your shirt, massaging your breasts and tweaking your nipples. he lifted the fabric but kept it on your as he watched your tits bounce temptingly, your puffy pink nipples making his mouth water as he pushed himself forward to take one into his mouth.

your hips stuttered as he sucked and nibbled at your nipples, throwing your head back and arching into his touch as your grinds grew sloppy. he felt your decreasing pace, using the hand that wasn’t teasing your other breast to guide your hips once more. he angled you slightly differently in a way that made your clit press against his pelvis each time he bottomed out, the speed of your grinds picking up quickly as his hips bucked up to meet yours.

his lips detached from your bruised breasts with a popping sound as he leaned up to capture your lips in his once again. it wasn’t much of a kiss, more teeth and tongue and moans and groans than anything else as you swallowed each other’s sounds.

you finished first, pushing yourself down hard and stilling, filling yourself with his throbbing cock and pressing your clit against him. he held you tightly, burying his face in your neck to suck at all the spot he knew would get your to writhe. many tickling fights contributed to his knowledge on all your sensitive spots.

your body twitched as you returned to bouncing on his length, your juices looking at his base. the overstimulation burned a little, making your thighs and knees quiver, but you were determined to get him to finish too. and by the looks of it, it shouldn’t take much longer.

“shit, baby,” he said, halfway between a whimper and a moan, fingertips digging into your hips as he threw his head back in bliss, “‘m so close— fuck, you feel s-so good.”

his chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, bottom lip caught between his teeth. his cheeks and the tip of his ears flushed a deep red, his plush lips a few shades darker and coated in your mixed saliva from your kisses. as you adjusted the angle of your hips, something in him snapped, grabbing your hips tighter and taking over. he took over your movements, thrusting his hips up desperately as you fell forward onto his chest with the sudden change in intensity. his tip pushed itself against your g-spot continually, another knot tightening in your stomach.

the wet sounds of your cunt and your skin slapping against his egged him on until finally he felt like he couldn’t hold back any longer.

“baby, p-please— fuck— please, can i cum i-inside you?” he begged through a groan, “i— please, angel, i-i can’t wait any longer.”

you nodded against his chest with a whine, you were on the pill anyway. not a second later, he released into you, filling you up with stuttering hips. he pulled you down, flush against him and keeping you there as he emptied himself with softly muttered curses, his head dropping to press open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder.

it felt new to you, the warmth making you squirm until you came again without warning. it was much weaker this time but still enough to make you shake in his arms, panting softly after letting out a strangled moan against his skin.

after a few long moments of trying to recover from the shared orgasm, he lifted his head, one of his hands cupping your chin to tilt your head to look at him.

“so,” he started, lips stretched into a smile, “how’d that feel?”

“fucking amazing.” you rolled your eyes at how smug he looked after your confession, not protesting as he leaned forward to kiss you.

this one was much softer than the previous kisses you shared, much more tender. it was a lot shorter too, he pulled away first to rest his forehead against yours.

“yeah?” he whispered, kissing the corner of your lips, “just wait until i hit it from the back.”

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf

[sunsburns]

good luck, babe!

pairing: tashi duncan x fem!reader x patrick zweig x art donaldson

summary: patrick zwieg invites tashi duncan and art donaldson to join him at your engagement party. you think they came to celebrate you and your new chapter and put the past behind you, rebuilding lost friendships, but tashi hopes to stop you from marrying a man you never wanted.

—or: the trio crashes your engagement party

word count: 10k+ (i have a serious problem)

contains: SMUT 18+, smut with a lot of plot, post-challengers movie, fluff & comfort, angst, tashi’s pov but lowkey get's mixed up around the end, foursome, oral (fem receiving), oral (m receiving), p in v, unprotected sed (wrap it before yall tap it), homewrecking, cheating but also not cheating but also a worse third thing, three-way make out, four-way make out, dom!tashi, patrick being nasty, art being a loser, no use of y/n, situationship that lasts 13 years.

author’s note: this fic is based on this request with inspo from the greatest song on earth: good luck, babe! it was supposed to be a quick smut blurb but at this point, you all know i can’t write smut without some kind of angsty plot. everyone is super messy and there is some of the dirtiest smut i’ve written so far (it’s only going to get worse from here). this one is a roller coaster.

It didn't make sense to any of them, how you could've possibly ended up with him. 

Tashi remembered him from Stanford vividly. He came from a white-collared family, with daddy's money that bought him everything he could've ever asked for, yet he still wanted more. He played golf and polo and even dabbled with tennis but never had enough guts or skill to take it seriously. But his dad funded most of the programs and events at the school, so everyone had known him, his charm, his family, and his inability to stick to one thing even outside of sports. He clung onto a new girl every other week, a new girl wrapped around his finger only to be ultimately tossed aside like the rest of them.

"What a dick," Tashi remembered you saying once, stabbing your fork into your salad while glaring daggers at him from across the cafeteria as he bragged loudly to his fan club about how he beat you in a game of tennis. 

Which he didn't. 

You let him win. 

His parents had been paying you to coach him, paid you extra every time you let him win a set or two against you, even if it was off the record. God knows you needed the money.

"I think I'm gonna quit." You said, turning back to glance at Tashi.

"About damn time," she snickered, shaking her head. "I told you you're wasting your time with him when you could be doing something better. Like training with me."

You had rolled your eyes and poked her arm with your fork, "If I'm still trailing after him this time next week, shoot me in the head and put me out of my misery."

Almost thirteen years later, you're walking around with his ring on your finger at your engagement party. A party where your fiancé announced your upcoming retirement after a tennis career run that Tashi would’ve killed for: a six-time US Open winner; two-time gold medalist at the Olympics; and brand deals that would ensure you and the next four generations of your family lived happily under your trust fund.

Clearly, you weren't marrying him for his money.

It made Tashi anxious, because, in some way, she could see that the marriage you will have with your fiancé is far too similar to how Tashi's would have been if she and Patrick stayed together. 

Okay, maybe that was a reach.

Or maybe it's how it would've been if neither of you had gone up to Art and Patrick's hotel room that night. Or maybe it would've been Tashi's ring on your finger instead.

She couldn't shake the bitter taste in her mouth as she watched you laugh with him, your eyes lighting up in the way they always did when you were truly happy. It used to be her who made you smile like that. She remembered the late-night practices, the shared victories, and the quiet moments shared in the comfort of her dorm room. She remembered the promises you both made and dreams of dominating the tennis world together.

But she shouldn't dwell on the past, she shouldn't think about what-ifs. At least that's what Art tells her with a hand on her shoulder. Tashi glances at his hand, noting the wedding band that rests on his finger. The squeeze he gives is meant to be reassuring, but instead, it feels suffocating.

"I'll never know how he bagged her," Patrick tuts from her other side, a drink already in his hand. He holds it close to his mouth, biting the rim of the glass before taking a swig, his eyes never leaving you. His gaze is shameless, tracing the way your dress hugs your curves, how your hair shines under the chandelier lights, and the way your lips move as you speak.

"Lucky, lucky man..." Patrick shakes his head, a bitter edge to his voice.

A waiter passes by, offering hors d'oeuvres, and Patrick takes enough for the three of them for himself, setting his empty glass on the platter. As he stuffs an appetizer in his mouth, he begins to walk away, his eyes fixed on you.

"Where do you think you're going?" Art asks, his hand slipping from Tashi's shoulder.

Patrick spins around, mouth full, and shrugs. "To congratulate the future bride."

Art and Tashi stand there, watching, almost dumbfounded when they see Patrick sneak up behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle and lifting you into the air. You shriek, champagne spilling from your glass, but once you see who it is, a wide smile breaks across your face.

"Patrick!" Tashi can hear you from across the hall. Patrick lifts you again, hoisting you into the air. You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he spins you around, your laughter ringing out—a sweet melody that draws the attention of everyone nearby. "You made it!"

Tashi feels a pang of surprise. 

You and Patrick had been in closer contact than she imagined. It stings, a reminder of the distance that had grown between you after her injury, much like the distance that had grown between Art and Patrick. She never knew you had turned to Patrick for comfort. Though it made sense—Patrick was the one you invited, not her, not Art. Patrick was the one who had to ask if he could bring two guests instead of the traditional plus-one. 

But surely, you must have known that if you invited Patrick, Tashi and Art would come too, right? 

Right? 

The question churns a pit of dread in her stomach as Art starts to lead her closer to you out of courtesy.

Patrick's arms are wrapped tightly around your torso, his hand resting too low to be innocent, but you seem happy nonetheless. Happier in Patrick's arms than in the arms of your future husband. You embrace him close, the ring on your finger glimmering under the chandelier lights as you hold onto the back of his neck, your laughter finally subsiding as the spinning stops.

As Tashi and Art approach, the reality of the situation hits her harder. She's watching from the outside, a spectator to your happiness, feeling the sting of what could have been. She forces a smile; your engagement to the worst person in the world can't possibly be the thing that makes her break. Not after everything she's built since she started coaching.

Art tries to catch your eye, offering a polite smile once you let go of Patrick. "Hey."

"Hi," you say breathlessly, a bright smile across your face while Patrick swings his arm over your shoulder. You seem happy, almost relieved that Tashi and Art were here as if you doubted their attendance. "Wow, it's been so long. You guys look great."

"Thanks," Tashi finally says, the words weighing on her tongue like lead.

"You look beautiful," Art tells you, and it's rushed as if he's been trying to keep it to himself but couldn't help it once he was close enough to you.

Before you can get a word out, another arm wraps around your waist, discreetly pushing Patrick away from you to slide into your side. Patrick lets out an annoyed groan, stepping aside as your fiancé squeezes you tightly and says, "She does, doesn't she? Hey, killer."

You turn to him, about to say something, maybe greet him back, maybe introduce him to everyone. But he doesn't let you, he's leaning closer until his lips lock with yours. It takes you by surprise—you flinch at first before finally letting him kiss you properly, his hand cupping the back of your neck, pushing you as close to him as humanly possible.

Art lets out a low, awkward sigh while watching it happen before him, and Patrick rolls his eyes, stepping back in search of a waiter for another drink.

He holds onto you like you're a prize he's won. Almost as if he's been competing with everyone in the world to finally hold you and show you off. As if that's all you had to offer.

You blink, clearly embarrassed, as you clear your throat to disperse the awkward tension in the air. "These are some, uh," you stumble over your words before nodding towards Art, Tashi, and Patrick, "some old friends from college. I'm sure you remember—"

He's interrupting you again, reaching out with the hand that's not on you to shake Tashi's hand. He holds it tightly, his thumb pressing against her wedding ring. "Tashi Duncan, how could I ever forget? Still beautiful as ever."

She has to force herself to smile, for your sake. "Good to see you too—"

"You know," your fiancé starts, cutting her off, "I still remember the time you told me to suck a bag of dicks 'cause I took up your court time. Best day of my life."

"Yeah," Patrick laughs. He's found another glass of champagne to sip on, and it's by his lips when he says, "who doesn't love getting cussed out by Tashi."

You wince. "Patrick—"

"No, no. He's right. It's one out of a million. I took it as a compliement," your fiancé says, glancing at Tashi again, his eyes darting up and down, lingering on her wedding ring once more before she finally pulls her hand out of his grasp. He spots the arm Tashi has been clinging to. "Art Donaldson, I'm a big fan."

Art stiffens as if taken by surprise. "Really?"

Your fiancé is nodding, and when Art glances your way for a split second, he tugs you closer. "You're incredible. Watching you play, it's like, woah! He's killin' it out there. Too bad you've retired though, would've loved to see you play longer."

There's a faint redness to Art's face when he nods. "Oh, thank you."

"I've always wondered if I'd turn out the way you did if I stuck to tennis." Then he laughs, nudging your side. "If only this one put me to work like Tashi did to you, maybe we would've competed in the US Open a few times."

You snort and shake your head, the idea of watching the two of them even standing on the court together amusing you. "You couldn't beat Art if you tried."

Your fiancé shrugs. "Maybe Patrick."

"Stop kidding yourself. You can't even beat your nephew and he's twelve."

He hums, turning so that he'll face you. He holds your waist with both hands, caressing you gently. "You sure know your way into a man's heart, baby," he says lowly before kissing you again. It's rough and messy, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. You shriek and press your hands against his chest. He doesn't let go immediately, peeking a glance towards the trio while kissing you.

Tashi feels a knot of disgust tightening in her stomach. The audacity of him to touch you like that in front of them, as if he’s marking his territory, sets her blood boiling just a little bit. God, did no one teach this guy any kind of etiquette?

She catches Art's expression out of the corner of her eye—his jaw is clenched as he turns to look away. Patrick's lips curl in a sneer, the glass in his hand trembling slightly. He fights the urge to throw it.

Your fiancé reaches down and gropes your ass over your silky white dress before finally separating from you.

You stand there, looking flushed and embarrassed, letting him whisper something in your ear before he walks off, joining a group of men who whistle and catcall at him as he nears them. Each jeer and hoot feels like a slap to the face.

"Uh, sorry," you apologize, unable to meet their eyes as you blindly wipe at your chin to fix your lipstick. "That was... I don't know what's gotten into him. He's not usually like this. He's, uh... he's great."

Patrick scoffs, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Yeah, real great."

Tashi can’t help but frown, her heart aching as she watches you fumble. "You can't possibly want to marry him," she wants to say, but the words get stuck in her throat. She can't bear to hear the answer, especially if it's the one she fears.

Art steps forward, his face a careful mask of neutrality. "If you’re happy," he says, but there's an edge to his tone, a challenge. The unspoken words hang heavily in the air: "Are you?"

You nod quickly, too quickly, as if trying to convince yourself as much as them. "Sure, sure. I mean, what’s not to be happy about? His family loves me. I'm retiring this year, and gonna spend more time with my family. Hopefully more time with some old friends?"

"Old friends?" Tashi repeats, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. The casual way you say it, as if years of distance and silence can be bridged with a few meetings, stings more than she cares to admit.

"Yeah, before I get busy with the baby."

"Baby?" Patrick's voice is sharp, almost disbelieving. "You’re pregnant?"

"What? No!" You quickly sputter, shaking your head. Then you pause, a thought crossing your mind and you lighten up a little bit, a hopeful smile gracing your face, "But I do want kids one day. I want three."

"Does he want kids?"

"We've talked about it, but he shuts it down all the time."

"You poor thing." Patrick puffs out, pinching your arm before reaching for your hand and leading you toward the bar. "Let's bring this conversation outside, ladies. I need a smoke. And you all need a drink stronger than his champagne."

The idea of fresh air and a strong drink is appealing. After grabbing a bottle of finely aged wine, the four of you make your way to the garden outside the grand hall. The shift from the stuffy indoor atmosphere to the cool night air is a relief. 

The moonlight casts a silvery glow over the meticulously maintained garden, illuminating the path with a soft, ethereal light. You glow in your pretty white dress, the fabric shimmering as you take a seat on a patch of grass near the rose bushes. The scent of roses mingles with the crisp night air, creating a tranquil yet poignant backdrop. You glance up at the three of them who stand there, watching you.

Tashi raises a brow as you take a long swig of the wine. She didn't remember you to be much of a drinker. 

"It's not that big of a deal," you say, passing her the bottle when she finally sits next to you. 

It's as if her movement had woken the two guys and then Art takes a seat on your other side while Patrick lies down on the grass a few feet away to light a cigarette. 

You pout, "If he doesn't want kids, then we won't have kids."

"But you want kids," Tashi reminds you, but it's more of a question as if she's wondering if that's truly what you want. Don't get her wrong, Tashi loves being a mother, she would kill anyone for Lily, but you wanting kids barely before confirming your retirement threw her off a little bit.

"Of course I do." You hiccup, reaching for the bottle again. "I'm not getting any younger. It's just... he'll come around."

"And if he doesn't?" Art asks, his voice gentle but probing.

"Can we not talk about that right now? I just want to get shitfaced and party."

"Now we're talkin'!" Patrick interjects, his grin wide as he takes a drag from his cigarette. The embers glow briefly in the dark.

"Come on, everybody gather." Patrick flicks his cigarette off to the rocky pathway and snags the bottle from Art's hands. He raises it, nodding at you with that same smirk he's had for years. Snarky, cocky, and yet endearing. "To celebrate new beginnings. Even if your future husband's a dick and can't make you cum nearly half as hard as I can. Good luck, babe."

The rest of you all make a noise of annoyance, rolling your eyes. "Seriously?"

"Shut the fuck up, Patrick," Art scoffs, though there's a faint smile tugging at his lips as you let a giggle slip out past your fake annoyance.

Patrick's smile only widens at the sound of his friends' protests. It reminds him of the good old years when his biggest worry was which shorts he'd wear to his next game. "Cheers!"

As the bottle is passed around, Tashi can't help but feel a pang of nostalgia mixed with bitterness. The comradery of the past clashes painfully with the reality of the present. Is this how things are going to be like now? Is this night a call for a truce, waving the white flag so that all of you could be friends again, now as adults, making plans for brunch and getting the kids together for birthday parties?

You take another sip from the bottle, your gaze drifting towards the moonlit sky. "To new beginnings," you repeat softly, though the hope in your voice is tinged with uncertainty.

Tashi leans back, her eyes lingering on you, a mix of longing and regret pooling in her heart. Art sits quietly beside her, lost in his thoughts, while Patrick’s laughter rings out, masking deeper sentiments beneath his forced cheerfulness. The chatter and music from the hall spill into the garden, the warm lights casting a golden glow over the scene. Patrick talks animatedly about the seasons he thinks he has left in him, and to Tashi's annoyance, you encourage him.

She shakes her head at the way Patrick's eyes light up, glancing at her with a knowing look. Despite her irritation, she can't deny the comfort of slipping back into their old dynamic.

Suddenly, Art hums thoughtfully. He has been mostly quiet, listening to the conversation with occasional quiet laughs. Now, as he puts down the empty bottle of wine, he looks at you, his eyes more alive than they have been in a long time. "I had a burger for the first time in years," he announces, a smile spreading across his face as if he is proud of it.

You gasp, perking up as you reach over to hold his hands. "How was it?"

"Amazing," Art says fondly, "like heaven inside a bun."

"You should've seen him," Tashi smirks, shoulder to shoulder with Patrick, playfully kicking Art. "He was drooling just looking at the menu."

He rolls his eyes, "I wasn't drooling." When you fall silent, he looks at you again, frowning. "You haven't had one in a while, have you?"

You shake your head, "No, I think the last time I had one was when we graduated."

Patrick scoffs, "Bullshit."

You laugh, "It's true! I've been very strict with my diet. And now that I've retired... I don't know..." You shrug, suddenly getting shy as Art starts tracing stars against the back of your hand. "There are so many options, I wouldn't know where to start."

"It doesn't have to be anything fancy," Tashi says.

"Pretty sure I saw an old diner on the way here," Patrick suggests. He stands, stretching and groaning before bending over to take Tashi's hand and help her up.

You sputter, watching them all start to stand before you. "Shut up, we're not driving, you're drunk."

"But sober enough to see how badly you want this," Patrick teases, waving a finger near your face and smirking. "You're drooling."

"No, I'm not!"

"Sure you are," Art joins in, pulling you up to your feet. He swipes a thumb at your chin, "Look right there, by your lip."

"Oh," Tashi grins, "I see it."

"Shut up, Tash, no you don't." The words fall from your lips before you can stop them. The old nickname fits too smoothly as if it hasn't been years since you've called her that. Tashi smiles, feeling like a teenager again, messing around with you. She starts to walk off, Art and Patrick following her while you stand there, dumbfounded and a little breathless from their teasing.

"Where are you going?"

"To get a burger?" Tashi shrugs, and she smirks at you, a mischievous smile that makes you wonder if any of you have ever grown up at all. "You coming or what?"

You try to be reasonable, "I can't just leave."

"We'll bring you back before anyone notices," Patrick bargains, jogging back to your side and taking your arm to lead you to the exit. "Lighten up, when was the last time you had some fun?"

You don't even look back.

You find yourself laughing, nodding as the four of you make your way out of the garden. The moonlight guides your steps, casting long shadows on the path.

The walk is a blur of laughter and shared stories, the kind of carefree joy that you haven't felt in years. Before long, you arrive at the diner. The neon lights buzz softly, casting a nostalgic glow over the parking lot. You can smell the greasy, comforting aroma of burgers and fries even before you step inside.

The few people in the diner stare, watching as what seems to be a runaway bride and three wedding guests stumble and giggle over each other, lips a little purple from the wine you've all had and ordering burgers to go.

Once you have your food, you all find yourselves sitting on the curb of the diner's parking lot, the warm night air wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. Patrick hands out the burgers, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous light as he makes a show of presenting yours to you. "First bite in... how many years?"

"Too many," You take the burger with a chuckle, unwrapping it and taking a bite. "Oh my God," you mumble around your mouthful, "this is amazing."

Tashi watches you, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Told you."

Art takes a bite of his own burger, nodding in agreement. "There's nothing like it."

You shake your head, going in for more, "This is the greatest thing I've put in my mouth."

Patrick, already halfway through his, lets out a loud laugh, "Yeah, I bet."

The parking lot felt like a little bubble of the past, untouched by the years that had separated you. It was strange how easy it was to fall back into the rhythm of your old friendships, how natural it felt to banter and laugh as if no time had passed at all.

Tashi rolls her eyes, though you don't even seem phased by Patrick's joke. "I can't even get mad," you say, swallowing, "I feel like I'm eighteen again."

"Tell me about it," Art agrees. Then he pauses for a beat, chewing on her burger a little slower before turning to you. "You know, this reminds me of that time... when, you know."

"Oh," You snort and nod, scrunching up your face at the memory. "Yeah. It kinda does."

"What?" Patrick looks between the two of you, raising his brow in interest. "What time?"

"It was a long time ago," you tell him.

"Like back in Stanford," Art explains, and then he points between Tashi and Patrick with his burger, "when you two were still a thing."

Tashi sits up straight now, her full attention on you and Art. "Oh, really?"

"It was that time Patrick came for a surprise visit in the middle of our girls' night," you say, nodding your head at her, hoping she'd catch up with the memory. "And you kicked me out of your dorm so you and Patrick could... you know."

Tashi nods. "Have some alone time." She finishes for you.

She remembers that night well: you were both nestled in the haven of her dorm room, the soft glow of the television casting gentle shadows on the walls as the movie played on. You were curled up under her covers, your bodies intertwined, legs tangled together in a comforting knot. The world outside ceased to exist in those moments, leaving just the two of you in your little cocoon of comfort.

Tashi can still feel the sensation of your fingers running through her hair, the tender, rhythmic motion soothing her in a way nothing else could. The warmth of your touch lingered on her scalp, your fingers traced lazy patterns, and she remembered the way her body instinctively relaxed into yours.

But then came the knock on the door, and she felt her heart jump at her throat as she swung her legs out from under the covers and padded softly to the door.

When she opened the door, there stood Patrick, his presence almost surreal. He was holding a bouquet of carefully picked-out flowers, their vibrant colours contrasting sharply with the dim light of the hallway. His smirk was both nervous and charming

"You kicked her out?" Patrick gasps, and Tashi gives him a blank stare. He's acting as if he wasn't even there, as if he didn't stand by her desk while watching her scramble to clean up the mess the two of you made in her dorm and shove you out the door before locking it.

Patrick shrugs, that stupid smirk painted on his lips again before he finishes his burger. "Would've let you stay if it were up to me," he tells you, "The more, the merrier."

"No way," you poke your tongue at the inside of your cheek. "She wanted you all for herself."

"Please, I would've been too distracted with you to even give him my time of day," Tashi admits. "I did you a favor, Patrick. Saved you from blue balls."

He holds a hand to his heart. "I'm so honored."

"But anyway," you start, "while I was walking back to my dorm I bumped into Art, who got stood up on a date."

Patrick blinks, turning to Art. "You got stood up?"

"Was it that girl from marketing?" Tashi asks.

Art's cheeks start to turn red, the flush growing from his neck and up to his ears at the attention. "Yeah, she, uh, she bailed on me last minute."

"I remember you telling me the date went well," Patrick says. "That you guys went out late, bought takeout... you made out in your car," Then, to fuck with him, he adds, "You came in your pants 'cause she kissed your neck. Remember?"

"And that did happen," Art confesses begrudgingly, glaring at Patrick while Tashi laughs. "It’s just... it wasn't with her..."

"It... it was me," you admit.

Tashi wishes she could say she's surprised, but it's nearly impossible because anyone who knew you back in college knew very well about the big crush you harboured for a certain blonde. She knew the way you swooned after him, even if you never tried to admit it because it was too embarrassing.

"Wait, so," Tashi starts, poking at your side and drawing a nervous giggle from you. It makes her smile. "Is Art that guy you told me about, with the puppy eyes and pretty smile?"

"Okay," you puff out, blushing, "I did not say puppy eyes."

"You think I have puppy eyes?" Art asks you, his gaze softening.

When you take a few seconds too long to answer, Patrick claps his hands together and swings his arm over yours and Art's shoulders, pulling the two of you closer to him. "Aw," he teasingly coos at the two of you getting all flustered, "you think he has puppy eyes."

"It was so long ago," you say, running your hands over the soft fabric of your dress. "I don't even remember."

"I'm so sure you don't," Patrick hums, a knowing look in his eyes before he presses a sloppy kiss against your cheek.

You groan, shoving your hand in his face to push him off before you stumble to stand on your feet again, wiping your cheek from his spit. "You're disgusting," you huff, but there's no real bite in your words because there's a faint smile threatening to appear at the corners of your lips. 

You stand there for a beat or two, brushing off your dress and feeling the weight of the night settling in. You stare down at the three of them sitting on the curb, the neon lights of the diner buzzing behind you. You can see the hall where your engagement party is from where you stand; you almost don't want to go back.

"Okay," you tuck your lower lip between your teeth as you hesitate, "this... this has been fun."

"Don't leave yet," Tashi says while Art's smile drops, his face falling in disappointment.

"Yeah," Patrick rushes to stand, reaching for you, "the party was just getting started."

"I really have to get back," you step away. "If anyone finds out I left, I'll hear about it for days. This has been great. Like, seriously, I don't think I've ever laughed this hard since before..." You trail off, your tongue getting tied as you glance at Tashi, then at her knee, covered by the length of her dark purple dress. You clear your throat. "Well, uh, I better go. But thank you again, for the beer and the burgers and the memories. I hope you guys can make it to the wedding."

You start to walk away before they can say anything. Like, on purpose, as if you know that if they tried to make you stay and ditch your party, you would. You would cave to their defences.

The sound of your heels is deafening. Tashi watches you go, she watches how you wrap your arms around yourself, and it all feels too similar to how she watched you go all those years ago and never chased after you. 

"Don’t marry him," Tashi stands from the curb. She's shaky on her feet, taking long strides to walk past Patrick and hoping to catch up to you. She sees you freeze in your steps, barely out of the parking lot. You turn to look at her quickly, face falling in shock at her demand.

"What?" Your voice is quiet, hoping that your ears are betraying you.

Tashi slows down once she is close enough, the distance between you is almost nothing but the gap feels like miles. The red and blue lights from the neon sign blend into a deep purple against your skin, casting an ethereal glow that makes this moment feel suspended in time. She watches your face, sees the way your brows knit together, the flicker of anger and confusion in your eyes.

Her heart is pounding, the blood rushing in her ears almost drowning out her voice. But she forces herself to speak, her voice low and urgent. "Don’t marry him," she says again, each word feeling like it's being ripped from her chest. Her resolve, which had held firm all these years, finally crumbles.

Getting Patrick back into her life had been one of the most complicated, tangled pains she had ever undertaken. The late-night calls, the awkward meetings, the painstakingly slow rebuilding of trust between herself and Art. 

None of it had been easy.

Yet, even with Patrick back, there had always been something missing—a void that only you could fill.

She looks into your eyes, her gaze unwavering, despite the tears welling up. "Please," she pleads, her voice breaking. "Please, don't marry him." The words hang heavy in the air, a desperate plea that carries years of longing and regret. She knows that having you back won't make up for the lost time, and won't magically fix all the mistakes and missed opportunities. But she can at least try, can at least fight for the chance to make things right.

"Tashi, you can't possibly be asking me to—"

"It’s not worth it," she tells you anyway, her voice trembling with the weight of unspoken truths. She knows it’s a risk, a gamble she's taking by laying her heart bare, but she can’t hold back any longer. The years of resentment, of silent longing, bubble to the surface, fueled by the sight of you with someone else's ring on your finger. It's a bitter pill to swallow, the realization that she resented you not for leaving, but for never coming back. 

Why didn't you come back?

Tashi's words hang heavy in the air, a desperate plea born from years of unspoken desires and regrets. "Both of you want different things anyway. You don't love him," she continues, her voice raw with emotion, "it's not gonna last. One day you're gonna wake up in the middle of the night and realize I'm right. You'd hate to admit it, but I will be right. I am right. He doesn't deserve you. He's no good for you."

You scoff, "And you are?"

"You said it yourself," she presses on, her voice barely above a whisper, "You've never laughed the way you do with us. And you kept in touch with Patrick, so that's gotta mean something." It's a feeble attempt to grasp at straws. "Marrying him will just be another excuse, another stupid reason. I thought you were better than that."

Then she remembers that night before you left for London, back in 2012. It's like a distant memory now, a flicker of what could have been. The air was thick with anticipation, the tension palpable as you stood on the precipice of something new. She remembers the way your eyes met hers after your exchange with Art at the hotel bar, a brief greeting with an old friend, both of you at the peaks of your careers. It is a silent exchange of longing and regret. For a moment, it felt like time stood still, like the world was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

She remembers the smell of your perfume, the bitterness of the drink you were having and how she could taste it when she kissed you; tongue running over your teeth, nails clawing at skin, hair tangled between fingers, hot breaths and unkept promises and false apologies and a night of regret.

And then the morning came, and with it, you had to leave. And she never stopped you.

"Tashi… I can't just throw this all away for you. For any of you. You were the one who told me to leave."

"I know."

"Because you know everything, right? Because you know he's not good for me, you know it all."

"I know you."

"No, you don’t," you say, your voice tinged with hurt. "Not anymore.”

Tashi huffs, shaking her head before she reaches out, cupping your cheeks gently in her hands. Her lips hover over yours for a moment, a silent plea hanging in the air between you. She waits, her heart pounding in her chest, for you to make a move—to kiss her, to push her away, anything.

You gaze into her eyes, tears glistening in the dim light, before finally closing the distance between you. The kiss is tender, and bittersweet, a culmination of years of unspoken longing and regret. It's a brief moment of solace amid chaos.

Your hands dig into the nape of her neck, where the short ends of her dyed hair tickle the skin of your wrist. The heat of your engagement ring nearly burns her, the edge of the diamond scraping against her skin.

When you pull away, breathless, Tashi fears this will be the last time she will see you. 

"Tashi, this doesn’t change anything," you say, your voice trembling.

"It changes everything," she whispers, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw. "You know it does."

But you step back, breaking the contact, the distance between you growing with each passing moment. "I have to go," you murmur, the weight of the decision heavy on your shoulders. "I need to think."

As you walk away, Tashi watches you go, her heart heavy with uncertainty. She clings to the memory of that fleeting moment, a glimmer of hope in the darkness. 

Back in the hotel room, an uneasy silence settles among the trio. Tashi steps out of the shower, her mind a whirlpool of conflicting emotions. The press of your lips still lingers on her own, a persistent buzz that crawls under her skin. 

As she rubs lotion into her arms, she takes her time, methodically moving over each inch of her skin as if she could somehow rub away the confusion and yearning. She finishes her skincare routine, staring at herself in the mirror, almost meeting the eyes of the eighteen-year-old girl who had her whole life ahead of her. It's a constant chant in her head not to dwell in the past. 

She has to focus—she needs to find a way to pull Patrick Zweig out of the top 200 ranks and get him qualified for the US Open by the time the next season starts.

Speaking of the devil, when Tashi steps out of the bathroom, she finds Patrick lounging on the loveseat by the open window. Naturally, his shirt has found itself a home on the floor, and a cigarette dangles from his lips.

He perks up when she walks out, sitting up to greet her, "Don't beat yourself up."

Tashi rolls her eyes and climbs into the bed, letting herself sink into the soft comforter. "Shut the fuck up, Patrick. And put that shit out."

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, taking one last drag before flicking the cigarette out the window, grinning when he hears Tashi scoff. "She's a stubborn little shit," he says as the hotel door clicks open and Art walks in. Patrick hums, "Probably only marrying him to piss us off anyway. Been trying to talk her out of it for months. Never listens."

"She might listen to Tashi," Art says, turning to his wife with a hint of optimism in his voice. "Lily's asleep, by the way."

"Right, because my word is stronger than both of yours," Tashi retorts, pulling the blanket over her legs.

Art and Patrick glance at each other before nodding, "Yes."

"Well, yeah."

They all sit in silence for a while, each lost in their own little bubble. The hotel room is quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioner and the occasional rustle of the bedspread. 

Art joins Tashi on the bed, absently flipping through the channels on the television, the remote clicking softly in his hand. Beside him, Tashi pretends to read a book, her eyes scanning the same sentence over and over again without really absorbing the words. Meanwhile, Patrick rummages through the mini fridge, the sound of bottles clinking and wrappers crinkling breaking the stillness.

A quiet knock on the door makes the three of them freeze, their heads snapping up in unison. They exchange hesitant glances, each wondering if they imagined it. Then three raps against the wood sound again, more insistent this time. Patrick scrambles to the door, Art and Tashi close behind him, their curiosity piqued and their hearts pounding.

Patrick swings the door open, and there you are, a sight for sore eyes. You're still in the same dress, though one of the straps has fallen off your shoulder, and your makeup is smudged around your eyes. You hold your phone close, dropping it from your ear.

"I tried calling," you say, turning your phone so they can see Patrick's contact, a simple 'pat' with a cute tennis ball emoji next to his nickname. "You never answered."

"My phone died." He shrugs.

You let your hand fall to your front, where your fingers pull on each other nervously. Tashi can't help but notice the lack of a ring on your finger all of a sudden. She raises her brows at you, a knowing look flashing across her face before she tells you, "Something's changed."

You roll your eyes and step into the room, sliding between Art and Patrick easily. "A lot has changed." You walk until you reach the middle of the room. 

It's a big hotel room, not nearly as big as the ones Art and Tashi are used to staying in, but big and luxurious nonetheless. You fit in perfectly with your white gown and styled hair, a vision of elegance even in your dishevelled state.

You turn, facing the three of them again. "I hope whatever offer you guys were hinting at earlier still stands... I don't exactly have anywhere else to stay, unless I want to hear my mother telling me how she was right the entire night."

Tashi smirks. "You know I'm about to tell you the same thing too, right?" She closes the space between the two of you, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. Her nails brush against your jaw in a feather-light touch until her fingers pause below your lips.

"Yeah, I know."

You don't seem too upset about it. Instead, you're grinning, letting Tashi push her thumb between your lips. The gesture is intimate, charged with unspoken emotion. You're standing face-to-face when she says, "I told you so."

She leads you to sit on the bed, and you let her, nearly tripping over your heels before you land on the soft duvets. Tashi leans down, her nose brushing against yours, and you swallow your heart racing.

"You were right," you murmur. It's hard to maintain eye contact when your skin is buzzing with heat and when there's so much going on in the depths of her eyes that it dizzies you. "I hate it, though."

Her nose is cold against yours, a sharp contrast to the warmth of her breath. You let your eyes fall shut as she slowly traces patterns under your chin, pressing her thumb harder into your mouth before pulling it out. She catches the side of your face with it, making a mess with your spit.

She smiles, "I know you do."

Instinctively, and embarrassingly, there's a shiver rolling down your spine.

Tashi releases a small chuckle, and then, after a final moment, her lips fill in the small gap between you both. You sink into it immediately, heart rejoicing as her lips, warm and smooth, explore your own.

It's a little fumbly, nervous and making you tremble under her hands. Tashi loves every second of it. Her fingers grip your face tighter, mouth pressing to yours with more hunger as you wind your fingers into her hair and sigh. Between gasped breaths and soft sounds of enjoyment, she slips her tongue along your lower lip, and so you open your mouth a little wider.

Tashi ends up straddling you, making out like you're both teenagers again, putting on a show for Art and Patrick. The exhilarating butterflies twirling in your stomach match the memories, too. 

You moan softly as she pulls away from your mouth, her attention shifting to your neck. As you watch Patrick and Art make their way to sit next to you on the bed, the bed dipping, you tilt your head to the side and open up your throat to Tashi. You whimper as you feel her lips drag over your exposed skin. She nibbles and sucks until she finds the sensitive part that makes you cry out.

"Fuck," you whimper. You tug on her air-dried curls, coaxing her back up to your lips so you can enjoy the feeling of her mouth on yours. Tashi sighs, and you can feel her smiling into it while beckoning Art and Patrick to join in.

Their lips are on you in a split second, with Art pressing soft, ticklish kisses against your collarbone, and Patrick sliding his tongue from your shoulder to the back of your ear. He's moaning at the taste of you, sucking a bruise under your jaw while digging his hand into the back of your hair. 

He slowly starts to bring his sloppy kisses to your mouth, lips brushing against Tashi's and your own before she draws back. You whine, pouting as you watch her take a few steps away before making herself comfortable in the cushioned seats by a small dining table. You can't pout for too long, because now Patrick is kissing you, tugging softly at your hair until your back arches.

His tongue presses against yours, pressing as far back as he can reach, swallowing your every moan and whimper. You bring your hand up to scratch at his beard, then run your nails over his scalp. This is when Art starts to get a little bolder by running his hands up and down your thighs, pulling and pulling the long skirt of your dress until he reaches the end of it and he can touch your skin and take off your heels, tossing them aside somewhere.

Patrick traps your lower lip between his teeth, watching it bounce back into its place as he leans back just the slightest bit. You break apart with a whimper. Your half-lidded eyes meet his, then flick down to the trail of spit strung between your glistening lips. He stares at you, cheeks a little red as he smirks, "I've missed this. Missed you."

You smile, breathless as Art's hand makes its way up higher and higher and closer to your heat, his mouth is relentless with its attack at your neck. He grinds his crotch against the side of your leg and you cradle the back of his head with your other hand.

"You saw me last week, Patrick."

"Last week?" Art pulls away. His lips are parted, eyes a little dazed but focused enough to stare between you and Patrick in confusion. Tashi smirks from where she sits and shifts in her place.

"We're not all perfect, Art." You groan, rolling your eyes as Patrick laughs, reaching over you to start pulling down Art's pants who shifts in his place to let him. Once they're off, he looks at you, and it's embarrassing how fast you tangle together, melding together into a pathetic heap on the bed for Tashi and Patrick to see. 

Your lips move in tandem, his soft, pouty lips slitting against yours with ease as you lead his hands to your chest and shove them under your dress.

Art squeezes and fondles your breasts over your bra, his hips jerking against your leg again, almost desperate as his boner presses against the fabric of your dress as it has fallen down again.

Tashi startles you as she settles behind, one knee on the bed while her other long leg steadies her on the carpeted floor below. You let her tilt you backward, parting you from Art and she draws you into an upside-down kiss. The salacious kiss leaves your legs parting for the two men beside you. 

Patrick makes quick work of taking that damn dress off of you and you sputter out a pathetic moan when Art's soft hands tease your hardening nipples once Patrick gets half of it off.

Your dress eventually falls into a heap on the floor in front of the bed, you’d matched with it a white paired set underneath. 

"No fucking way," You peek one eye open slightly to see Patrick scowling while Art runs his hands everywhere he can reach, across your stomach, your thighs, under your boobs, down your back. 

Patrick tilts his head and groans, "I can't believe you wore this shit for him."

Your hand cups Tashi's jaw to deepen the kiss as you both ignore Patrick, only Art snorting out a laugh as he tugs his shirt over his head. 

Patrick slots himself between your open legs, stopping just a breath short of your aching cunt to nip teasingly at your soft inner thigh before dragging his mouth up to your neck again. He revels in the moans he's able to draw from you as he finally comes to caress your face. 

You pull away from Tashi and gasp in a breath. "Kiss me, Pat," You bite your lip, feeling your heart race as he eyes you up so openly. 

"Beg me," He counters with a quirked brow, challenging you. 

Your nose crinkles, "I'm not doing that."

"I'm not kissing you, then."

"Shut up and kiss her, Patrick," Tashi groans, attached to Art. She holds his face the same way she did with you, pulling him closer and letting the man crawl to her. But she's glaring at Patrick with venom behind it you know she can’t mean when she's trembling under Art's gentle touch as he slips off her silky nightgown.

"Come here," You beckon Patrick closer with a fiendish look in your half-lidded eyes.

"Yes, ma'am." Patrick nods, dazed as he obliges. "Anything you want, beautiful," His voice slightly slurs as the space between you diminishes once again. "I'll do anything for you," His husky voice drapes around your name like velvet as it's whispered against your plush lips.

Your hands easily find themselves tangled in Patrick's curly hair and tug him to your lips with aching want. You dive in immediately, lips meshing against and, eventually, catching against his chapped lips. 

A moan escapes from your throat and he uses it as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. From there, it's another flurry of saliva, tongue and entirely too much white-hot pressure building below. 

When you break for a breath, a string of saliva stretches between each of your red, puffy lips. Patrick groans at the sight and pulls you in for a slower, raw kiss that leaves you slick and trembling for more. When you pull apart again, Patrick plants a sweet kiss on Art's mouth before focusing back solely on you, his hand slowly approaching your white thong.

When he starts to rub, you moan into his mouth and start trailing your hand to his crotch, palming his dick. Patrick reciprocates easily and tugs at your lower lip with an impish look in his eyes. 

Lips attack your neck again, pulling you higher up on the bed. You hear pants and clothes being shed from every angle around you before you're surrounded again, hands everywhere.

While Art pulls Patrick into a kiss, Tashi cups your face again and draws you into a gentle one as you settle between her legs, your back to her chest. You rest your head on Tashi's shoulder as you heave out another breath, her hands travelling from your navel to tracing shapes on your clit, over your wet panties, spreading your legs apart with her own. 

"Please, Tash," you whimper as her fingers curl around the edge of the fabric and tug so it strains against your leaking cunt perfectly. She then decides to skim a whisper of her touch against your pulsing ache. 

You gape as Patrick wraps his hand around Art's dick, stoking it, and he lets out the prettiest little whine. Patrick slowly works his way down Art's body, running his tongue between each curve of his muscles, collecting the sweat that's been building on his skin before wrapping his mouth around him, taking all of it in one insatiable bob of his head.

Tashi's nails tickle lightly up your stomach, then in the valley between your breasts and then back down again. It has you spiralling, arching your back as she presses a kiss at your neck.

"You're being so good," she coos into your ear. Your name is only a breath out of her mouth, and she's edging your clit with a gentle roughness that could only come from a woman of her calibre. Tashi pulls your panties aside and flicks and flits about your dripping cunt like she already knows how to make you come undone.

It makes you tremble. You'd sworn up and down earlier about how Tashi didn't know you anymore, and here she is, proving to you that she still does, that she knows every curve and divot of your body, that she still knows what makes you whimper and twitch.

Your hand quickly reaches behind you, between the heat of your back and her body and finds her clit and you try to emulate how she's making you weak. Each quiet gasp you earn from her has you moaning back tenfold under her saccharine trance and she quickly starts pumping two fingers into you.

One particular flick of Tashi's thumb on your clit coupled with her lips gliding against and sucking your own in a wanton kiss sends you over the edge. You moan and cum, back arching as you relentlessly force Tashi's hand against your cunt, searching for more delicious friction. 

She takes you all, and lets you ride it all out on her fingers while swallowing every moan you let out in a lewd, wet kiss. Art and Patrick moan appreciatively at the two of you, then focus back on each other.

Before you're able to come down from your high, Art's shoving his come down Patrick's greedy throat. He swallows it all, pulling off Art's red-tipped cock with a vulgar pop that creates a trail of saliva in its wake. 

Patrick smiles down at you and leans closer, and you think he's about to kiss you but then he swerves and kisses Tashi instead, who removes her hand from your cunt and slowly works it up his thigh until she cups his balls and gives them a gentle squeeze. He moans into her mouth, winking at you amid his impromptu make-out session you were tempted to join.

You shimmy back and turn on your stomach, positioning yourself between Tashi's long tanned legs. "Can I eat you out?" You ask while kissing up her leg, and you want to hear how much she needs you. You bite at your bottom lip as you nuzzle into her juicy cunt. "Tashi?" You look up at her from where your face is pressed against her. Her sweet smell makes you sigh as you tease your tongue with her hip bone. "Please, Tash, let me taste you." 

"Yeah, go for it," Comes her breathless plea.

You finally pull her lips apart, revelling in how she squirms against your hold on her hips. 

You're on your knees, trapped arching between Tashi's long legs when you hear Art clear his throat. You give one long lick up Tashi's twitching cunt before turning around with her slick dribbling down onto your chin to where Art has sidled up behind you.

Art crawls closer to you, "Can I touch you, beautiful?" He tilts your chin up as he awaits your answer. 

When you nod, he easily descends upon your lips, placing a sure hand behind your head as he deepens the kiss into something absolutely filthy. As soon as you break apart, he kisses your shoulder, then down your spine.

Tashi guides you back to her. You allow her nails to tangle in your locks as she forces your head back down against her arching hips.

"Shit," Patrick huffs, rough hands reaching for the globes of your ass while Art's smoother ones trail up your spread, inner thighs. Tashi tugs at his dick a little harder, which has him panting against her lips.

Tashi gasps as you flick at her clit then quickly move to tease her entrance with the tip of your tongue. You flatten your tongue, dragging it across her length and repeat the motion until she whines for you to stop. 

You slurp the combination of drool and slick as you pull away with a pussy-drunk smile. She meets it with a panting, dazed one and removes her hand from your hair to push her own out of her eyes while Patrick sucks at her neck.

"Ah!" You startle forward into Tashi's tits as Art finally breeches your entrance with his index finger. 

"Eat our girl out, Art," Tashi motions for Art to lie down under your spread form to get a better angle. You can't deny that the new nickname drives you a little crazy. "Show her she's ours."

Art's soft hands draw another moan out of you as they assuredly grip your hips to keep you in place while he unleashes teasing licks against your pussy.

Tashi draws you back to her. You'd know that look anywhere—she's ready to cum.

"I want you," Her breath hitches around your name while your tongue steals the rest of her coherent words until she's a withering mess under your touch. 

Her pornstar-worthy moans ring out across the room like a beautiful symphony. Tashi's wanton noises coupled with the wet whines you're unleashing against her folds until the two of you create the lewdest duet this hotel's ever heard. 

She arches against the bedframe as she tells you her near release, tugging at your hair as she draws closer and closer to the edge.

Panting, she draws you against her lips for a sloppy, uncoordinated kiss. 

"Fuck, Tashi," You groan against her plump lips, feeling your own impending orgasm drawing near. "You're so fucking hot, I-"

She cuts off your rambling with another wet kiss. Her tongue flicks out to tease yours before sucking it into her mouth with a lewd slurp. Your hand works alongside hers to leave her shaking and whimpering against your lips as she comes undone by your hand. You smack her cunt lightly, eating the groan she feeds into your open mouth as she rides it out.

Tashi eats your moans as they echo against your messy tangling of lips and tongues.

Art's fingers start to pick up a pace as Patrick, feeling left out, starts thrusting his throbbing cock in the middle of your sapphic kiss with Tashi. You eye the two with half-lidded eyes as you share Patrick's cock with her. After only a few moments in your mouth, Patrick pulls out and releases across Tashi's and your expectant tongues.

"So fucking good to me," Patrick pants as he splatters the last of his come across your faces with a shaky groan. "Best fucking orgasm ever, swear it," He says as he encases his lips around yours, swapping his cum between your mouths before moving to Tashi to do the same.

Art moves out from under you, offering your knees relief as he lays you back against Tashi's stomach to fuck into you.

It's a slow and cruel pace, only made crueller by how Patrick and Tashi touch you like they already know where you want to be touched. Each brunette takes a side, Patrick sucking your tit into his mouth while Tashi's mouth draws you in for a kiss. Her nails tickle at your other erect nipples until you're arching off of her and into Art's thrusts, making him whimper.

"Just like that," Art whines your name. "You're so fucking tight."

It's when Patrick and Tashi move their attention down to your clit that you know you're fucked. Patrick spreads your folds with two fingers, watching as intensely as Art does as his cock disappears in and out of your hole.

"He could've never made you feel like this, right?" Tashi rasps. "He has no strategy, no real game. Just a fucking waste of space. Could never make you feel this good, this loved."

You don't need her to say his name, you know what she means. You're panting, shaking your head against her shoulder. "Never."

"Told ya," Patrick laughs into your skin. "Make her cum, Art. C'mon, man." 

"Fuck- please," You whimper, nodding. "I need to come, baby-" Without warning, you arch off of Tashi. Neither she nor Patrick stops their jerks against your clit as you gasp, eyes rolling back in your head with the thrum of a second wave creeping up on you with a steady building heat. Waves of pleasure roll over you as the tantalizing sensations become too much. You come loudly, arching pathetically off the bed as you desperately reach for Art, to hold him.

You're wriggling in Tashi and Patrick's arms as Art pulls out and releases across your expanding and retracting stomach as you pant out the remnants of your orgasm. 

"Shit," He moans, and his voice sends waves of aftershock across your body while his steady hands draw you against his naked chest for a toe-curling kiss.

You'd never been happier to have invited Patrick Zweig to your engagement party.

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[lov3notts]

"you what?"

ᥫ᭡Theodore Nott x F!Readerᥫ᭡

summary: accidentally drinking a lust potion, you asked your best friend Theo for help.

warning: smut, cursing, unprotected sex, size kink maybe? cream pie.

word count: 2.4k

18+only; minors don’t interact

“You what?” Theo’s eyes widened, you wanted him to do what? He wasn’t sure if this was a dream or not but if it was he didn’t want to wake up

Earlier that day , you had accidentally drank a lust potion. 

How, you might ask?

Well the boys (Enzo/ Mattheo) thought it would be funny to prank Draco by giving him a lust potion as payback for pranking them earlier that week

At lunch the 2 boys were there first, taking their usual spots they slip the potion to a bottle of Draco's favorite drink and placing it on the spot were Draco usually sits

One by one the group gets to the table ,leaving you and Draco left. 

Soon both of you walk in, but you seem to be in a rush

“Sorry guys I can’t stay and chat, I have to get back to studying, i’m just here to get some food to eat while studying” grabbing random things and the only drink you see left, you quickly stuff it in your purse

“Wait y/n!” Enzo saying frantically, giving Matt a worried look

You look up at Enzo as you start to zip up your bag. “Yeah?” 

“We were actually saving that for Draco, um- were having practice later and that’s his favorite”

“Omg I’m so sorry! Here-“ as your opening you bag Draco comes behind you , going to sit down 

“I actually got my own drink, y/n can have it” Dracos says while pulling out his drink from his bag,

Enzo’s and Mattheos’s eye widen.

“I- um, but we got it for you” Matt says with a bit of a shaky voice 

“Its fine, I don’t need it” as he waves his drink showing the 2 boys

“But-“ 

“Omg thank you Draco, I really have to go now guys see you later” you say as you're walking away before the boys have a chance to take away the drink.

Both Enzo and Matt try to call you back but you’re already gone, both freaking out inside. praying you don't find out what they did.

While studying in your dorm you couldn’t focus for more than 10 seconds. Thinking you might just be tired from all the studying you took a break. Getting up from your desk you head towards your bed. Laying in your bed you start to space out

At first it was all innocent thoughts, school, weekend plans but then they started to shift The only thing you could think of was pleasure. Thinking of a certain boy made your cunt throb, making your body hot

Your hand slowly creeps down to your shorts. Slowly playing with yourself imagining it was Theo’s fingers rubbing circles on your clit.

“Oh god Theo” you moaned 

but no matter how good it felt you couldn’t reach your climax. You were so needy and nothing was working. The rising heat from your body only made things more uncomfortable.

“God what is wrong with me, and why is it so hot” getting up from your bed you walk towards your desk, trying to find your drink, in hopes of it cooling you down . You picked up the bottle and before you can finish the drink you saw something written on the bottom of the bottle

“Payback- Enzo and Mattheo”

Your eyes widened with confusion. 

What?

Then you remembered how the drink was meant for Draco. 

everything started to make sense

This is why you were like this

You couldn’t even be mad at them, Your mind was clouded with the urge to get any satisfaction you could. all you wanted was any sort of pleasure but nothing was good enough. it started to get painful and a sudden thought popped in your head. Theo

he’d help right? He was really the only one you can go to. 

Your heart was racing at just the thought of Theo agreeing to help you out, being best friends all these years you had developed a crush on him, of course you never acted on it because you didn’t want to ruin your friendship 

Pacing back and forth your room, you finally decide to ask him for help. Nervously picking up your phone, you open Theo’s contact.

“Theo?”

“Hey Bella, what’s up?”

The nickname itself making you get butterflies.

 “Um- I need a favor, can you come over?”

“Of course, i'll be over in a few”

“Okay see you” hanging up the phone, your thoughts begin to consume you

What if he says no?

What if he laughs at your face and runs off

What if…

What if he says yes… 

Before you can continue, there was a knock on your door. That must be him. Slowly walking to your door, palms sweaty, you turn your door knob

“Hey, what did you need help with?” Theo goes in to give you a hug

Hugging him back, your nose is infused with his cologne  

God why does he always smell so good

He lets go and looks at you closely, he moves a strain of hair behind your ear to have a better look at you. His eyebrows frown, noticing your face is flustered and incredibly warm.

“Are you okay? Your face is warm” resting his hand on your cheek

“Yeah, um actually funny story-“ Quickly leading him to sit on the edge of your bed, holding his hands as you begin to explain

“Please just hear me out. I know it's odd ,but I have no one to go to,- just please-“ falling to your knees, begging.

“Hey hey, breathe. You know I'm here if you need anything. Now tell me, what’s up?” Theo's eyes looking at you with worry.

“Please I- I need you to fuck me” you blur out

That was the last thing Theo thought would come out of your mouth. 

You wanted him to what???

He was speechless, absolutely at a loss of words. jaw wide open

“Please, I'm sorry for asking you for this, I know it’s a lot and we’re best friends. But please I can’t take it anymore. I accidentally drank something that wasn’t meant to me and it had this effect on me. I’ve tried everything but nothing is working. I need your help please” your face heating up from embarrassment . I mean you only ever had the biggest crush on your best friend for years, but what you didn’t know was that so did Theo.

Theo had dreamt of the day he got to be with you.

How’d he spend hours pleasuring himself of the thought of you under him, on top of him and how good you’d take him in your mouth. God, was he hard the second you asked him to help you out.

How could he say no? 

Without another thought he picked you up from the floor. Sitting down back on your bed while you straddled his lap.

Looking into your eyes, moving a piece of your hair behind your ear, resting his hand on your cheek, he leaded in.  

Your soft lips on his, both whimpering into the intense kiss. Licking your bottom lip asking for access. You gladly gave it to him. 

Slowly rocking your hips on his clothed boner, trying to find any friction to satisfy you.

Slowly laying you down your bed, taking off your clothes until you were left in nothing but your matching black lace set. 

“Don’t worry Bella, i’ll take good care of you” Theo whispers as he starts to leave a trail of kisses down your body

“Theo please~” you pleaded, needing to feel something, anything.

“poor thing, you’ve must of been so uncomfortable for such a long time, don’t worry i’m here now”

He stopped to look at your lying body, face all flustered, messy hair. 

“God you’re so beautiful” he wasn’t lying, he’d always thought you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. Always jealous of your ex boyfriends because they got to be with you. But now it was his turn and he was going to give you the best you’d ever gotten, he was going to ruin every other guy you’ve been with. 

Slowly pulling your panties off, dick throbbing at the sight of your wet glistening pussy. Trying to ignore his throbbing cock and focus on you, he gives you a sweet smile. 

“You're soaking wet, so ready for me” leaving little kisses around your pussy, teasing. finally burying his face between your legs, painfully slow licks as he takes it in, savoring every moment. 

As soon as you felt his tongue, you became a whimpering mess.  

“Theo~ oh my god yes” moving your hand to his hair, giving it a little tug. 

Theo couldn’t hold it in anymore, he started to devour you. eating you out as if he’d never get this opportunity ever again

“You taste so fucken good” he groaned against your dripping core. The vibrations sending you waves of pleasure 

“More please, Theo! oh my god~” it felt so good, his tongue making you feel things you’ve never felt before with anyone else

“So polite, even when your so needy” Theo smirked as he sees how much of a mess you were for him

He starts so pump one of his fingering into you while eating you out. Soon enough you felt the feeling you were craving for

“M-so close, fuck Theo i’m so close”

He stops what he’s doing, getting up grasping on his zipper and undoing the button. Tugging his jeans and boxers off. 

“Theo? Why’d you stop? I was so close” you looked at him with teary eyes. you were so close, god why did he stop

“Sorry princess, I wanna be in you, want you cum on my cock” godddd was he hot

His cock strung out his pants hitting his stomach , you were lost for words. In no world was Theodore Nott small, he was big- huge even. you’ve never taken anything close to his size.

Theo noticed your starring

“Like what you see?” A smile tugged the corner of his lips

“Don’t worry you can take it, I know you can”

You nodded at his works 

He lined himself up to your pussy, tracing himself up and down, teasing you.

“You have no idea how long i've been wanting to do this for” 

“Fuck ,Theo please, please fuck me” you whined 

“Anything for you, love”

he slowly pushed himself into you. You both let out a loud moan. 

“fuck, your so tight” Theo was out of breath.

You felt so good around him that he never wanted this moment to end.

“fuck Theo your big” you said panting 

“You think you can take more?”

More???

“There’s more??” Looking at Theo with a disbelief face

He chuckled “i’m only have way”

“Don’t worry you can handle it, can’t you baby?”

“Mhm- yes yes, I can take it”

Pushing the reset of himself into you. bottoming you out. heavily breathing, getting comfortable with the feeling of him stretching you out. 

“good girl ,You’re doing so well for me, are you ready?”

“Yes! fuck-please move, please” you begged

Brining your legs above his shoulders and laying them there. Gripping your ankles to keep you steady as he started to thrust into you. Both a moaning mess

“Fuck fuck fuckkk, Theo-” your eyes roll back, arching your back.

“You feel so good Bella, oh god-“ panting 

“Your squeezing me tight- fuck”

One of his hands moving to your waist. fucking you harder now, unable to stop. His cock was so fucking good, hitting your g-spot every time.

“Fuck Theo just like that, don’t stop, don’t stop please!” Your hands holding onto your bed sheets as he rocks his hips.

“You like that huh? You like it when your best friend is pounding into you, god you look so beautiful, taking all of me like a good girl” he groans while leaving kisses on your ankle.

Your walls clenching at his words

He groaned again as he felt your cunt throb at his praise. 

“Oh you like being called a good girl don’t you?” letting go of your ankle to grip your jaw to make you look at him.

“Who's a good girl are you?” Theo says as he speeds up his thrusts

Looking at him with half lidded eyes “Yours, all yours!!~“ you moan

“That’s right all mine, no one can ever make you feel this good, isn’t that right love?”

 “Mhm only you, ah~ i'm so close”

“Cum for me baby, come all over my cock”

You were absolute bliss, god you’ve never seen fucked this good, yeah you’ve had other hookups but nothing can compared to this, to Theo

You moaned loudly, shutting your eyes as you reached your orgasm “im- im cumming!!” Your body shaking from the overwhelming feeling

The way your walls clenched from cumming made Theo on the verge of spilling. He continues to thrust into you through your first orgasm. He didn’t expect you make such a mess all over his dick, your cum spilling out of you as he thrusts into you

You felt Theo twitch inside of you, knowing he’s close you moved his hand from your waist to your breasts.

“Mmm so soft…” Theo whispered. leaning down, putting his tongue on your nipple, swirling it around. “Mmm Theo that feels good” throwing your head back from a little act. Theo was soon approaching his climax.  

“Fuckk- can I cum inside of you? please oh god I can’t hold it anymore, please? Fuck-” Theo begged as he tried to hold it in, waiting for you response 

“Yes!! fuck Theo cum inside me” you practically screamed as you felt you stomach tighten.

He let out a loud moan as he spilled his cum inside of you. You screamed as you felt his warm cum spilling in you, triggering your second orgasm.

Theo’s thrusts became sloppy, riding out both your highs. He pulled out and laid beside you. Dizzy and breathless, taking a moment to catch your breath.  Finally when you both got steady, you look up at Theo

“Thank you Theo, really”

“No need to thank me Bella, you can come to me for anything anytime” smiling at you.

crawling onto his lap you whispered into his ear “stay the night? I don’t think the drink has worn off just yet~”

This was going to be a long night for Theo.

ᥫ᭡reblog's & comment's are appreciatedᥫ᭡

a/n: Thank you for reading my first ever fic!! a special mention to @leona-hawthorne for being an angel and giving me feedback on my first rough draft. It helped a lot:)!! another honorable mention to @nottsangel!! Im that anon who mentioned writing their first story, hope you like it^-^ thank you both, your blogs have inspired me to start writing. xoxo

©lov3notts ,do not copy, translate or claim any of my writing or works as your own.

[unluckilyimnot]

Playing with their hair – aether, kinich, wanderer, rin, sae, sakura

note: i'm just in love with aether and kinich recently and i needed to write something with aether's hair so why not had some of my fav characters along with them. that's probably not really good but i guess it's cute. ooc

m.list | rules

Aether is used to your hands suddenly laying on his hair, running through them when you walk behind him – it’s like an urge, you just have to. You stopped on your track, bowing to kiss his head, inhaling his shampoo a little and hummed at the sweet scent.

“You took my shampoo again,” you mentioned, not in a warning way, more like you appreciate it. He nodded lightly, delighting himself from the feeling of your hands still running through his hair, scratching his scalp a little before kissing it again.

Sensing that you’re about to go away, his hands take yours gently and his head bent down to look up at you. “Already leaving ? We can both take a break…” he said, subtly implying you to not stop yet, making you giggle.

“Sure, we can.”

That’s basically how he ended up sitting on the floor between your thighs, watching a movie while you brush his hair for him, kindly letting your fingers run down his beautifully long hair – trying small, low buns to one high ponytail.

“Having fun ?” You can hear the smile in his voice, amused as always when he let you enjoy his hair more than he does.

“Always.” you said while kissing his nose from above, hiding the tv from his sight for a mere second but he still whines at you for doing so. Such a crybaby.

Kinich sighs as he feels your hands examining his hair again. “Would you stop doing that ?”

He knows you’re not doing this to annoy him, yet it always kind of stresses him to picture you scanning his scalp without any invitation to do so. He also knows that you don’t care about what he says, continuing to play with his hair while you swipe away some dandruff here and there.

“What’s the matter,” you talked back, seemingly frustrated. “You never say anything when it’s to help you fall asleep.” you argued, feeling really satisfied when he doesn’t find anything to say after that. It for sure helps a lot, he can’t argue with that, but he really hoped you could realize that it works all the time and not only when he wants it to – which means he was getting sleepy, slightly closing his eyes while he still had a lot to do.

A satisfied sigh escaped his lips before he could hold it in and you hummed teasingly. Your hands moved from his head to his chest, your arms caging him against you and you laid your head on top of his. “Tired already ?”

“Shut it.” he sounded harsh but he still rested against your chest as well, feeling at peace being so close to you. He wasn’t really tired but if you let him, Kinich would for sure appreciate some quality time with his head in your chest and your hands in his hair. Not that he’ll say it to you.

Wanderer honestly never mind when you ask him if you can play with his hair, he’s usually already busy and not moving so someone touching his hair while studying doesn’t change much for him. He won’t say that it doesn’t make it easy to concentrate since he, sometimes, tends to focus on this more than on the words written in front of him but he still appreciates how peaceful it makes him feel when he’s particularly worried or stressed.

Your hand running through his short strands of hair takes him somewhere else where he doesn’t need to worry as much, he likes it, even if he would never be physically capable of telling you.

“You’re braiding it ?” he asks, half absent in his question – he just wanted to confirm the feeling of your fingers brushing past his cheeks repeatedly. You hummed softly in response, leaving the braid dying the second you let it go since his hair was too short to handle it. It doesn’t discourage you though, and before he can ask what you’ll do next, he can already feel your steady movement back to the same scheme and a soft chuckle left his lips.

“You want me to stop ?” you asked under your breath, probably still concentrated on what you were doing but still caught his sigh.

“No, it’s fine. Go on.” he assured before stepping back again into his study, more than relaxing by this short break.

Rin loves movie dates to his core, but it always gets him when you start touching his hair in the middle of the movie. It's like he's never getting used to it and he's jolting a bit every single time, making you chuckle. But you always kiss his head as an excuse after. 

There's something relaxing when your fingers start to twirl around his short hair, making him wonder who appreciates it the most between you and him. Because he for sure loves it. 

His mind drifts away easily despite himself and how badly he wants to follow the movie. He always finds some way to lean into you, craving for more like a cat and more often than not, he ends up laying on top of you. 

“Don't fall asleep this time Rin,” you joke while scratching his head playfully. He simply nodded, absorbed in the movie more than you gave him credit for. He just didn't want you to stop.

Sae hates it when he feels your hands finding his hair in the middle of the day. He spends quite some time styling his hair in the morning, even if it doesn’t look like it, and you being nearby automatically becomes a danger for that.

Not that he doesn’t like you touching his hair, he’s fond of it, he wishes he could die with you touching his hair, but not during the day. So as soon as he feels it, he immediately gets up and warns you. “Please don’t.”

But he knows it can't be helped and soon your lips meet his, kissing him sweetly – your successful way to distract him – so you can end up with your hands reaching the hair in his neck. Twirling your fingers around it, pulling ever so slightly to annoy him but he still lets you. Not without a sigh against your lips, but he knows damn well he can't hold you back when you're determined to do something. 

He wishes he could keep his hair pretty for the day at least once in a while but he can't blame you ; both of you like it very much. He can forget his image for yet another day if that means he can appreciate the relaxing feint of your fingernails on his scalp. Even if lately it's starting to be everyday, he won't mention it – or not seriously. 

Your smile is more precious than some good hair day. 

Sakura still isn't used to you touching his hair, he hasn't been used to gentle gestures in his life before coming here  –  especially regarding his looks. The second your hands find his hair, he flinches by reflex even if he knows that it’s only you around him. He doesn’t turn you down anymore though since you always let him know how you love his hair, for the color or the fluffiness ; it’s just the best thing in the word and it got to be your boyfriend’s hair. You must be blessed. 

You still try not to frighten him too much, and start by touching his shoulders then going up to his neck and finally the hair in the nape of it. Twirling it lightly with your fingers and you’re sure to catch him snapping his head to you with a blush. 

“What are you doing ?!” he asked as always, flustered but not telling you to stop anyway which made you smile sweetly. 

“I’m playing with your hair ? You want me to stop ?” you tilted your head to the side, trying to act cute and confused so he doesn’t have the heart to tell you no. And with a resigned look but his brows still frowned, he compiled without adding anything.It’s a win, once again. 

You then slowly but surely brush through all his hair, tossing it one side to another, mixing the two colors together then separating it again like a puzzle. That’s something you grew to love, separating his hair for him and that’s also your best excuse to touch it even when there’s people around. Even if he’s not fond of it.

He tends to lay a bit in your hand when you do so, or when you stop your hand in his hair, quietly liking the feeling now that you’ve given him some time. Not that he’ll say it to you, never, but he doesn’t need to for you to know. It’s just like you to notice how he relaxes around you and when you do it. There’s a small smile on your lips when he tries to catch your eyes but looks away instantly, blushing again, and it makes you wonder when he’ll stop blushing around you. 

“You’re cute, Haruka,” you said, brushing away his bang to kiss his forehead. And without a second of hesitation – when in fact yes, but you tried to ignore it –  he was arguing with you about how he is NOT cute, simply proving your point again and again.

Let me know if you like it !

[hxney-lemcn]

I Love You~ — NRC Students x gn! reader

summary: How Twisted Wonderland boys react to you saying "I love you."

tw: stalking (Rook), slight angst for some, mainly fluff.

a/n: this is the most I've written for for so many characters. I hope I did them well, I even wrote for characters I'm not confident in. Also, I swear they don't all just say I love you too back, Heartslabyul boys are just too sweet not not (for the most part).

wc: 4.5k (~200 each character)

Master List

Your feelings had been building up over time. It got to the point that it felt like all your feelings were bubbling over. It was only sooner or later that the depth of your love was going to spill. You only hoped that it wouldn’t scare him away.

❥ Riddle Rosehearts

It wasn’t the first time you said those damn words that sent his heart into cardiac arrest. ‘Love you,’ You would chime playfully as he seemed near to scolding you for something or another. He hated to admit how effective those words were on him, it didn’t help how you said it so casually. Yet this time was different, your tone being nothing but soft, your eyes nothing but warm…he wasn’t prepared for this. Avoiding your loving gaze, Riddle could feel his brain melt, his tongue felt like lead, and his heart was beating erratically. When your gaze turned worried, shying away the longer he stayed silent, he somehow gathered the courage to respond.

“I-I love you too.”

❥ Trey Clover

It was no secret how much you both cared for each other. You both seemed like a married couple to the other students. You never really needed to say anything out loud because your love was shown through actions, the way you both smiled at each other, and how the other was always on the mind. Yet hearing you say those words out loud shocked him. What shocked him even more was how much he longed to hear you say it again, and again, and again. It didn’t take long for him to regain his composure, smile brightening as he didn’t even hesitate to respond.

“I love you too~”

❥ Cater Diamond

He always hid behind a smile and a flash of his camera. People would say his care for you only ran skin deep, but you knew otherwise. You had managed to wiggle your way through Cater’s walls and that scared him, but it also brought a sense of relief. His compliments towards you were genuine, showing you just how much his fans loved you (an extension of his own love). He’d always say he loved you playfully, sending a wink your way making you nearly combust…and you’d respond in kind (unknowingly doing the same to him). So when you said those three simple words, your tired eyes fluttering shut as you snuggled into his blankets, he felt like he was going to puke. He felt like a complete coward that he could only reply back after you had fallen asleep, vowing to show you just how much he cared the next day.

“I love you more than you know.”

❥ Deuce Spades

We all know that Deuce isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, yet you found that endearing. The way he showed his care for you was so obvious it was hard to ignore. How he clearly favored you over Ace, sending threatening glares to any student who dares to look at you the wrong way. You had never felt safer than when you were with Deuce, so you’d try to reciprocate…yet he always seemed to outshine you in your made up care competition. Yet you quickly found his weakness after he shied away after you hugged him once. So when he did something so endearingly silly, it was only natural for those three words to slip…rip Deuce. He stammered, face blazing red as he tried to wrap around what you said, trying to untangle any hidden meanings. Bashfully, he couldn’t meet your eyes as he responded.

“I…love you too.”

❥ Ace Trappola

This menace. He flexes all the time, claiming how you must love him with the way you follow him like a puppy. Yeah…he makes it hard sometimes. So out of spite you’d go to Deuce, causing Ace to sulk. It was in those moments that you realized he was lowkey (highkey) projecting his feelings onto you. It helped you deal with his unabashed praise for himself. You found yourself teasing Ace back, poking him and irritating him (he did find it annoying but he’d rather your attention be on him then anyone else). He’d show off during his games, always looking towards you and making him a clumsy mess on the court. When you finally muttered how you felt (somewhat bitterly) Ace felt his brain shut down for a second before quickly rebooting, a shaky smirk on his face with bright red cheeks as he replied. 

“Of course you do! Who wouldn’t- OW! Okay, okay, I l-like you too I guess.”

(bro couldn’t even say love you back 💀)

❥ Leona Kingscholar

To anyone who didn’t know him, they’d think he was indifferent to you, if not annoyed by you. Yet to your and Ruggie’s keen eyes it was easy to see his affection for you crack through his impervious exterior. How he’d drag you with him for his constant naps, how he’d let you play with his hair, and how he’d glare at anyone who seemed to get a little too friendly with you. Leona didn’t like being vulnerable, after all, showing your belly meant submission and death. So when you said those three words he’d dreamt of you saying, how lovingly you were staring at him as you fiddled with one of his braids, he felt his scowl worsen at the fluttery feeling in his chest. His green eyes glanced away, his face softening back into a neutral expression.

“I better be the only one you say that to, herbivore.”

❥ Ruggie Bucchi

He’s another one that people can’t tell if he likes you or is using you. Whenever you were seen with him you were helping him with chores (in reality you only helped him so you both could relax together afterwards). It was clear how much you cared for him, bringing him snacks, helping him with chores, offering to pay for his meals (rip your already bare wallet). In return, he’d share with you. A feat that no one had ever seen him do before. Ruggie never felt guilty for taking/getting food…that was until you never seemed annoyed by how much he took from you. So he felt it was only fair if you had some too…you did pay for it after all. He found his tail wagging when you smiled at him, hugging him, or even when you ruffled his hair. So when you said that! Those words he never expected to be uttered from your lips, let alone aimed at him, his tail just couldn’t stop moving! No matter how composed he seemed, it was like his brain was on fire (insert that spongebob clip).

“Shishishi, I suppose I might feel the same…the price for that information is the other half of your donut. Shishi.”

❥ Jack Howl

This guy. Definition of tsundere. Acts like he wants nothing to do with you while sticking by your side for as long as he can. The nice thing is that he helps you become more healthy. He never forces you, but you feel more inclined to join him in his ‘morning’ jogs (his morning jog is way too early for you so it's technically his second jog of the day and he calls it his wind down jog). Everyone can tell how he feels for you, it's clear in the way his eyes are always searching for your comfort, how he steps in when someone gets too pushy, or when his tail sways when all your attention is on him. Another guy you feel super safe with. The two of you were studying when you said it, atmosphere warm. Jack’s ear twitched, unsure if he heard you correctly, eyes searching yours for confirmation. When you gave no indication that you were joking or being silly, it felt like his heart flipped.

“I…care about you…as well.”

❥ Azul Ashengrotto

He is sneakily unseaky about his feelings. One moment he’s treating you like an actual valued guest with no hidden intentions (😒) and the next he’s lowkey (highkey) flexing on you. Mixed signals because you aren’t sure if he’s trying to make you feel bad about yourself or if he’s trying to make himself look better to you. “Oh don’t worry, this won’t put a dent in my pockets,” He’d say with a smug smirk (you’re lowkey side-eyeing him). One time you poked him to see how’d he react and it was super amusing. Ran away with the brightest blush you’d ever seen claiming he had work to do…yeah…right. When you realized he is in fact trying to impress you (and realized it was really fun to tease him with affection), you became more comfortable around him, looking forward to the next time you could visit the Mostro Lounge. It got to the point that Jade would just bring you to the VIP room (if Azul wasn’t busy swindling a poor soul). When you spoke those words it came out of seemingly nowhere, Azul spilling ink all over a contract he just finished writing. He was so close to darting out of the room, face ablaze, hands trembling. Do you know just how powerful those words are? 

“P-perhaps…d-do you…I-I think…” (You broke him, don’t worry he just needs time to collect himself. He loves you too 💖)

❥ Jade Leech

Rip. It kinda takes a lot to catch his eye (do you even want that?). He found it amusing how kind you were, you wouldn’t make it for a second in the deep (k…). Yet what really caught his eye was that you were a green thumb. How you recognized one of his mushrooms and the gleam in your eyes as you stated all you knew about it (not much, but more than anyone else he’s met). Now you have a scary eel that pops up every now and then. Jade only cared about mushrooms, but now on his hikes he’d spot a plant you liked (every now and then bringing it back for you). Downside, you now had Floyd’s attention as well. I mean c’mon, his brother finding interest in someone? He just had to check the guppy out…thankfully Jade stopped him from squeezing you (a true testament of his care for you). The words spilled out of you when Jade had offered to…’help’...with a certain…’problem’ of yours (an annoying student who wouldn’t leave you alone). A look of pure shock washed over his face before it quickly turned into a cunning grin, something that sent the hairs on your arms to raise. 

“My my, what a bold statement. Please, treat me gently would you?~” (He did not forget about your ‘problem’)

❥ Floyd Leech

Rip #2. You know he cares (sometimes) when he stops calling you guppy (sometimes he does it just to annoy someone cough Riddle cough). Your case was a mix of both. One time when Floyd wouldn’t stop poking your cheeks you poked his nose with a ‘boop’, and he had deemed you boops. Also wouldn’t stop booping you back after that. He is not ashamed at all. He’d squeeze you, drape over you, pick you up, poke you, nearly kill you. The usual. You always would pretend to be annoyed (although sometimes that annoyance was very real) and Floyd always found your reactions hilarious. Although he had his bad moods, 6/10 times he’d feel better when you booped him. Jade would tease him, Azul would ask you over to the Mostro Lounge more often, even Riddle would avoid you (because where you were Floyd had to be nearby). When he was in a bad mood and you booped him while saying “I love you~”, Floyd froze. Sharp eyes watching your every move like the predator he is, a wide grin revealing his sharp teeth. 

“Awwww, I love ya too Boops! Now lemme squeeze ya!” 

❥ Kalim Al-Asim

Where do I even start? He’s loving on you the moment he sees you. Hugs, cheek kisses, hand holding, it's all normal to him. He cares about you so why wouldn’t he show you? Poor Jamil, he was really stressed at first, unsure what your intentions were. So to start, you had to prove yourself to Jamil, Kalim had accepted you the moment his eyes landed on you. The more you hung out, the clearer your affection for Kalim shined, and you two were basically a married couple at this point. It was easy to care for him, reciprocating his affection without hesitation. Idk there's not much to say about him, he’s just a loving and carefree guy. It was when you both were winding down, hanging out with just the other, doing some homework (one of the ways you proved yourself to Jamil). Your dreary eyes watched as Kalim swayed in place, his eyes soon meeting yours. His beaming smile had all your defenses down, words falling out without you realizing it. It wasn’t until Kalim jumped at you, squeezing you tightly, face nuzzling into your neck.

“I love you too! We should get married!”

(😅)

❥ Jamil Viper

It’s admirable that you managed to break down Jamil’s walls. He was even more surprised at how your attention would always seem to land on him instead of his insufferable prince. No matter how much Kalim basically begged for your attention, your eyes would always drift to Jamil, a warm smile on your lips when your eyes met. He showed his affection for you in how he looked after you. He had grown up taking care of someone, and although he found himself hating Kalim for his position, for Jamil’s spot in the world, he found himself enjoying caring for you. He loved how your eyes lit up when he offered you lunch, he had made too much anyways (riggggghhhht…), he felt his heart flip when you offered to help clean up or when you offered to help braid his hair. It was still hard for him to wrap his head around the fact that you truly cared for him and had no ulterior motives. His heart beat erratically when you said those words, when you looked only at him so lovingly, how your hand caressed his cheek so tenderly. It was all so overwhelming and he pulled away, pulling his hood up to hide his blush. His tongue felt heavy and he wasn’t sure if he had the heart to let himself be so vulnerable.

“Let’s continue this later…but rest assured I feel a similar way.”

❥ Vil Schoenheit

Ohhh boy. Vil, as much as I love him, might be a bit overbearing at first. If anything, you’d feel ashamed about yourself at first. You never seemed to be good enough as Vil would always find something to pick apart about you. You’d eat too many carbs, your uniform was wrinkly, your eyebags seemed to be more pronounced. When you snapped, crying and pleading for him to just stop, that you knew you weren’t beautiful or perfect like him and you didn’t want to hear it anymore, Vil had to rethink how he showed his care. He didn’t say those things because he thought you were ugly or terrible, he only wanted you to better yourself. To become more healthy and to take better care of yourself. Reflecting, he realized just how mean he seemed…enter the spoiling. Instead of nit picking you, he would give you stuff without a word. You found yourself with skin care products made by him (he didn’t want to taint your skin with bad ingredients), he would bring you a balanced lunch (perhaps breakfast and dinner too, if you’d be kind enough to join him), and he’d gift you outfits that complemented your figure perfectly (sometimes he’d have to get them costume made). It was a bit of a shock at the drastic change, but you found yourself doting on him more as well. You both were having dinner together, Vil complaining about his coworkers and you talking about whatever you were into at the moment. When he mentioned something he’d think you’d like you found yourself sweetly telling him you loved him. He was astounded, eyes locked on yours. As much as he tried to be composed, he couldn’t deny the fluttering of his heart or the heat on his cheeks. 

“I love you as well, my sweet potato.”

❥ Rook Hunt

This man 💀. At first you were terrified. Man was literally stalking you. You even went to the professors for help because excuse me? Stalking bad. And as much as Rook took amusement in your actions, he decided to finally get to know you…face to face (he already knew a ton about you). You gave him bombastic side eye when he first was trying to talk to you. He’d pop out of bushes (strangely no leaves stuck in his hair), he’d appear right behind you…one time he seemed to appear from literally nowhere. Against your own will, you warmed up to the freak. When he wasn’t continuously complimenting you, you found him to be funny. Rook is also unashamed about his love for you, he’d shout it from the roof tops if you asked. He also took the fact that you were warm to him as a sign of affection. You didn’t nearly deck him for popping out of the bushes this time? Oh mon chéri, his heart melts that you felt his presence to be so comforting. It felt weird, Rook had complimented you many times, spouting about how much his heart yearns for you. You almost didn’t want to tell him that you loved him, a bit spiteful since you knew how smug he’d look afterwards (you’d never live it down either). Yet when Rook handed you a rose, spieling about how it could never compare to you, you found yourself crumbling. Instead of that smug look you expected, he looked genuinely happy. Green eyes bright and shining, smile so wide you thought it split. Yet that gleam soon looked like that of a predator who finally caught his prey. 

“Mon chéri, my heart weeps with joy, I cannot imagine a world without your brilliance shining. Avoir son cœur est la plus grande récompense.”

❥ Epel Felmier

Epel is a tough nut even if he looks cute. He’d tease you mercilessly (Ace moment) on some days, while most he found himself complaining to you. Vil would work him tirelessly, and he can handle tough work! You’d sneak him candy or some jerky (that was more manly than candy). He found himself always trying to impress you, whether it be carrying something heavy or showing you his grades (he improved from last time okay). He loved how you complimented his strength or his intelligence, but deep down he was scared you saw him as a cute prim boy that Vil was trying to turn him into. If anyone tried anything with you he’s the one you’d go to, making his chest puff in confidence. Of course he’s trying to not fight so Vil won’t punish him, but a stern talking too wasn’t out of the picture. You both were relaxing under a tree. You mindlessly watched Epel as he carved an apple, handing you pieces when they were cut perfectly. Another one who can’t handle it when you say it. Eyes wide, shoulders hunched, face matching the apple he was holding. 

“Ya c-can’t jus’ s-say that! Y-you tryna k-kill me? ‘Tch, you’re lucky I like ya too.”

❥ Idia Shroud

He’s such a simp. Some days he can barely squeak out a word to you, hiding himself in the comfort of his hoodie, others he’s flexing on you about just how much more he knows about a game than you. When he’s feeling extra generous (trying to get y’alls intimacy meter up to max) he’ll buy you the fancy currency in your favorite gacha game, go on, do as many ten pulls as it takes to get your favorite character up to max level. His favorite moments are when you both are watching an anime together, in the same bed…it makes his heart explode just thinking about it (dudes on the opposite side of the bed 💀). What makes him care for you even more is how you interact with Ortho. You two are his favorite people and seeing how well you both get along just further warms his heart. When you muttered those words to him, he literally screamed. Hoodie up, hiding under his blankets, his hair the brightest pink it’s ever been. He felt light headed and he was sure if he opened his eyes his vision would be spotty.

“G-gah! Your charm is maxed out! It’s n-not fair that you had the special dialogue to insta kill me.”

❥ Ortho Shroud (platonic only obvs)

He is just a little ray of sunshine. He’s the reason why you got so close to Idia in the first place. He’s always on the hunt for any potential friends for him and his brother. You were always sweet to him, doting on him and calling him cute. Ortho honestly thought of you as another sibling (might as well be with how much you hype him up). Ortho would always try to accompany you if he had time, always ‘hinting’ at you to visit his brother (bro is not hinting, straight up just asking). He felt his cpu warm as he processed his happy feelings at watching you and his brother get along, as well as when you always brought Ortho over to join you both. It didn’t take long for you to tell Ortho you loved him, I mean he was just so adorable!

“I’m so happy! I love you too!”

❥ Malleus Draconia

I hope you're ready to become a royal beside him. He shows he cares with grand gestures (which Lila helps make them smaller gestures). Malleus is used to people fearing him, and the fact that you didn’t? Man was gobsmacked. He shared his interests with you, and you shared yours with him. He would research anything you said that he didn’t understand (it was even better if you were the one teaching him). If you thought your affection was spilling over, Malleus’ was flooding. It turned into him giving you fine jewelry, clothing, flowers, food, you want it, it's yours. He cared for you greatly, and he was unsure how else to show his affection. You gave him a hug? He’d hug you now as a greeting. One time you booped his nose and he went cross eyed following your finger. You’d almost spilled your guts then (I’m surprised you didn’t cus that shit’s adorable). You always confused him with your cute forms of affection, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. It seemed impossible for you to keep in your love any longer on a bright, moonlit night. As you stared into the night sky, you spilled those three little words that unknowingly sealed your fate. Malleus felt his heart be set aflame, eyes taking you in. It was then that he finally thought of a perfect ring for you. 

“I love you as well, child of man. More than you could ever imagine.”

❥ Lilia Vanrouge

As silly and carefree as he was, Lilia wasn’t ready to love again. He had his family, and that was all he cared for. So when he found himself messing with you more, missing when you weren’t around, wanting to cook for you (rip #3), he felt scared. Love never went well for him, it was almost like he was cursed, and those he cared for were ripped away from him. Yet you were so sweet, trying his food and trying to give him pointers on how he could improve. The cute scared face you made when he popped out of nowhere. Gosh you made it so easy to love, it was honestly unfair. He was supposed to be the cute one! You can’t go stealing his title! You also found it a struggle to love Lilia. You knew he was older than time itself (💀), and honestly you felt a bit weird for falling for him. I mean, you were so much younger, and he was a fae. It just seemed like a lot, so you kept your feelings to yourself. That was until one night, Lilia was tucking you in since you fell asleep on him, and you muttered those cursed words as you drifted off. He actually avoided you for a few weeks after that, and you felt embarrassed that you slipped. It wasn’t until he could no longer avoid you, missing you too much and having thought it through enough.

“I hope you understand the weight of your words, after all, us fae stay with our partner for life.”

❥ Silver Vanrouge

He is so easy to get along with. He’s always looking out for you, offering you snacks when you're hungry and handing you water when you haven’t drank any yet. While he does find himself dozing off a lot, he appreciates when you try to poke him awake or go over the material he slept through. No one even questions your status, they just assume you're together with how lovey dovey you both act. He’s fallen asleep on your shoulder more times than he can count, his soft hair tickling your neck. He’d apologize when waking up, but you were too entranced by not only his beauty but the cute animals that now surrounded you both. Not to mention the way your heart would pitter patter as he would promise to defend you, his shining eyes showing complete seriousness. You had whispered your love for him when he was sleeping, gently playing with his hair. You thought he wouldn’t hear, but boy were you wrong. His soft eyes blinked open sleepily, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Am I dreaming? I hope I’m not, because I love you too.”

❥ Sebek Zigvolt

Another tsundere ass. He gets overwhelmed by his feelings for you so often I’m surprised your eardrums aren’t permanently damaged from his constant yelling. It was confusing for him because the only other person he felt a somewhat similar feeling towards was Malleus Draconia, and you were nowhere near the level of the future king of Briar Valley. He’d take his strange feelings out on you, inadvertently pushing you away. Thank the sevens for Lilia (or not) because the bat fae would always have something to say about Sebek when he’d see you. “Have you heard of how brave Sebek was?” “Have you seen how cute he is when his face turns red?” Thankfully, Sebek got used to the pitter patter he felt when you smiled at him, no longer scolding you for…smiling? Another one that you learn tends to project. He’s degrading you for being human? Well he’s half human too, so he probably feels the same about himself more than you. Which causes you to try and compliment him more…which leads to him shouting, cycle repeats. I hope you brought ear plugs, cus the moment you spilled your guts, the soft atmosphere turned harsh. His face lit up red as his shoulders rose to his ears, be prepared for a flustered, shouting croc.

“C-cease your tempting words human! I-I only have eyes for Waka-sama! I have no time for foolish endeavors that will ruin my position! W-wait, don’t l-leave! I n-never said I didn’t f-feel the s-same!”

[hussyknee]

People seem to think this is fake because it's written in English. Apart from the racism in believing that Arab doctors and nurses aren't fluent in English (a second or official language for half of Asia), Palestinians have deliberately been addressing their audience in English on every social media, from journalists to children, because they know speaking English to Westerners immediately makes people more human in their eyes. Because language is one of the ways the imperial cultural hegemony conditions us (yes, everyone in the world) to see who qualifies as "people" and who are simply a mass of bodies who were always made to suffer and die. Gazans know this deeply, which is why they have been using English to beg and plead through social media, "We're not numbers! We're not numbers! We're people like you, we speak your language, we deserve to live!" all the while they're systematically slaughtered.

Israeli forces also encircled Al Shifa Hospital yesterday and bombed it for several hours while shooting dead anyone trying to flee including medical staff moving between buildings. Not sure whether it's still continuing because WHO lost all communications with its staff there a few hours after. The last new report said that thirty-nine babies had been removed from the incubators before the power went out. It's extremely unlikely they will survive.

Please understand that these atrocities depend on the war of attrition between governments and public attention. The momentum of public outcry is difficult to sustain through repeated stonewalling and bureaucratic intractability. When we're flooded with these reports and a sense of futility and despair replaces the anger, it allows compassion fatigue to set in and the violence to become normalized. Massacring hospitals, killing sick children and openly targeting humanitarian aid workers (Netanyahu just declared the UNRWA is in league with Hamas) will become simply more news articles that fade into the background, and open genocides will soon become part of the "lesser evil".

Take care of yourselves how you can, take distance where needed, but please never tune out and give up on the two million people for whom we are the only witness and hope. Never stop boosting and sharing the news and posts you find, never stop getting out there and joining every protest you can, however small. Anger burns out, which is why activism must depend on an immovable sense of justice and uncompromising value for human life. It's not just about Gaza, it's about the kind of evil our generation will be coerced into accepting as unchangeable and inevitable hereafter.

[lcvemiyuki]

"in proximity" | hq, ushijima

content: ushijima asking for help on English is one thing--him sitting just inches away from you is another

tags+warnings: fluff, ushijimaxfem!reader, thirdyear!ushijima, tendou+semi appearance, not proofread

character(s): ushijima

word count: 1.6k

a/n: im sorry in advance this was written on the bus LMAO

Brown shoes pattered as the students of Shiratorizawa started to cluster in the slightly filled classroom. It was lunch break, and you decided to stay in with your feet bouncing slightly and earbuds in, the music blasting so loud it could be heard from the external world. It was so loud you didn’t pick up on the dress shoes cladding on the wooden floor. You were so focused on reading up the next lesson for English that you didn’t feel a tall, looming presence in front of the desk.

“[Y/N].”

A few more seconds passed until an unknown hand plucked your right bud out of your ear.

The muted classroom suddenly filled your hearing, and the chatter of classmates could be heard crystal clear. Your eyebrows furrowed at the action, and you trailed your eyes to follow up the cladded arm until you reached a calm, yet slightly tilted head.

Wakatoshi Ushijima.

Your mouth clamped shut with only a slight hum in response to the stunned and sudden intrusion of the ace on your academy’s precious volleyball team.

Your puzzled expression had you blinking your eyes more than usual, causing him to only slightly clear his throat.

“I know you may not know me, but you’re [Y/N], right?” His expression remained unchanged as if carved from stone. It almost felt like you were in deep trouble with how a million eyes darted right at the two of you.

After quickly glancing around the now hushed classroom, you peered back up at him and nodded, “Of course, I know who you are, Ushijima-san.”

The pressure of possibly being the next target of rumors in the upcoming week terrified you. It was astonishing at the rate and creativity these students could create over the slightest piece of information.

He only nodded in return and began to rummage through the black book bag slung across his body. It took him a moment to finally find what he was looking for, and he stretched out his unwavering hand to reveal another English textbook.

“I was hoping you could tutor me for the upcoming finals.”

“Huh?” You quickly zipped your lips shut as the thoughts in your head blurted out.

Okay, that really stumped you; your eyes scanned the area for some sort of snicker or nudge of the arms as a sign of a prank.

But that wasn’t part of his nature, was it—no, he meant business with how his sandy-brown eyes never left yours.

It wasn’t like he was trying to hide it either. His voice was crystal clear and projected enough for everyone to chime in. You would expect that from the volleyball captain, yet he still needed your help with English.

“What do you need help with?” you continued.

There was a short pause as he suddenly moved away from your gaze, his hand reaching out for a vacant chair and pulling it up next to you. The slightly grating sound of the chair legs scraping against the wooden floor paused any remaining conversation in the classroom, drawing all eyes to the two of you.

His sudden presence filled your senses in seconds as his side profile came into view. The scent of fresh laundry lingered in the air as he was near. You could see the fine details of his chiseled jawline, and the determined set of his brow. Up close, it was no surprise he looked even more handsome.

Suddenly, your palms felt a little sweaty, and the room got a little warmer.

His intense focus and proximity made it hard to breathe steadily. His huge frame caused him to lean back on the small wooden chair, making it creak slightly under his weight. Meanwhile, your frame remained sort of uptight, your back straight as a rod, in fear you might accidentally touch him.

The sheer size of him was overwhelming; his broad shoulders seemed to take up more space than the chair allowed, and his legs spread slightly to accommodate his height. His arm brushed lightly against yours as he reached forward, causing a spark of electricity to shoot up your spine.

He placed the blue textbook next to yours, his large, calloused hands moving with surprising gentleness. Flipping to a certain page, he revealed a passage that had been neatly bookmarked, as if he already knew exactly what he needed help with. The text was underlined and annotated in pencil, showing his efforts to understand it on his own.

His voice, low and steady, broke the silence. "I figured you would be the best to tutor me."

He glanced over at your in-progress notes, his gaze unwavering and thoughtful. The closeness of his presence made the air around you feel charged, every small movement amplified your heightened awareness.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "I... I’d be happy to help, Ushijima-san."

He nodded appreciatively, his stoic expression softening ever so slightly. “Thank you. I won’t take much of your time. It’s quite difficult to find time after school to study.”

As you started to explain the notes you had been working on, you couldn't help but feel the weight of his gaze on you. It was intense like he was studying every word you said, every movement you made.

The sliding door abruptly slammed open, the force of it causing a few heads to turn in surprise. An overly excited redhead waltzes into the room, a completely annoyed companion trailing behind him.

“I thought I saw ya in the window while walking past, Ushi!” Tendou explained, his mouth wide open with a pearly-white smile, eyes gleaming with mischief. His voice echoed through the now silent classroom, making sure everyone knew of his arrival.

Ushijima barely reacted, his focus still on the textbook in front of him, but a faint sigh escaped his lips. You, on the other hand, jumped slightly in your seat, your eyes widening at the sudden intrusion.

Tendou stopped just inside the doorway, leaning against the frame with a casual, almost theatrical air. Semi stood beside him, his expression shifting into one of mild entertainment at the sight. “And look who you’re with! [Y/N], right?” Tendou’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he peered over in your direction, taking in the view of the English textbooks and your notes spread across the desk.

You nodded, trying to compose yourself. “Yes, that’s right.”

Tendou grinned wider, not moving from his spot. “Tutoring, huh? Just like we sai—uh, thought so!” He straightened up slightly, trying to awkwardly save himself from the slip-up. His eyes darted everywhere as he looked around, trying to gauge the room’s reaction.

The ash-blonde friend next to him raised an eyebrow in amusement, then let out a small scoff, clearly entertained by Tendou's ridiculous attempt to cover up his mistake.

Ushijima glanced at his teammates, his expression unchanging as he blinked up at the two.

“Yes, that’s right.” he parrots you as he responds to Tendou.

Tendou chuckled, his voice carrying easily across the classroom. “Well, we wouldn’t want our star player struggling with finals, would we?” He shot you a teasing grin before wiggling his eyebrows.

Tendou clapped his hands together, the sound startlingly loud in the quiet room. “Alright! Let’s go and nourish our starving bellies, Semi-pooh,” he cooed, waving a hand towards the sliding door.

Semi’s eye twitched as he muttered a curse word under his breath. “Don’t call me that,” he grumbled, his annoyance clear, but he still followed Tendou out of the classroom.

As they left, Tendou continued to chatter animatedly, his voice fading as they walked down the hallway. Semi’s occasional responses, a mix of chuckles and sighs, echoed faintly back into the room.

You were left there dumbfounded in your chair as you couldn’t help but glance back at Ushijima. He, on the other hand, resumed his notes like nothing had happened.

‘Huh, that was weird.’

You decided not to think anything of it.

𓇢𓆸 Later that day

“I told you to sit across from her, not next to her!” Tendou’s voice echoed out from the locker room, a blend of exasperation and amusement in his tone.

Ushijima glanced up from his phone, intrigued. Tendou’s rants were a familiar occurrence, but this time, there was a sharpness to his words that captured Ushijima’s attention.

“You were practically crowding her! I could feel the awkward tension all the way from the doorway!” Tendou continued, his arms waving dramatically as he paced back and forth. His eyes were wide with mock horror, clearly relishing the chance to tease his stoic friend.

“I thought it would be more efficient,” Ushijima said, his brow knitting slightly.

Tendou snorted, laughter reverberating in the confined space. “Efficient, huh? Sure, let’s go with that.” He gave Ushijima a knowing look, his eyes narrowing with playful suspicion. “Come on, Ushi, we both know why you really wanted to sit next to her.”

Ushijima’s expression remained impassive. “I respect her intelligence.”

Tendou’s grin broadened, his enjoyment evident. “Mhm? And you wanted to be close to her too~”

Ushijima’s gaze dropped back to his phone, his fingers idly tapping the screen as he sat on the dark wooden bench, his posture relaxed.

“That’s why I suggested you ask her for help,” Tendou said, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he leaned against the lockers. “You needed an excuse to spend time with her.”

The room was filled with the familiar silence Tendou was accustomed to.

He clapped Ushijima on the shoulder, his cue that he was taking off. “You’ll get the hang of it. Just remember to give the lady a little space next time.”

Ushijima remained seated on the bench, fingers navigating to his contact list. At least he got one thing right: asking for your number.

want more?

⤷ masterlist.

[nightmare-niko]

Pretty When You Cry [Father Charlie Mayhew x reader]

pt. 2

Word Count: 1916

Warnings: manhandling, kinda munch! Charlie, one slap, mean! Dom Charlie, blasphemy (they fuck in the church😬)

A/N: not my gifs! I have the originals reblogged on my page😘 this was actually already being written and then I got an anon request for basically exactly what I was already writing!! Hope ya like it hehe 🙃 i also dont really ever write like this kind of smut so i hope i did good!!

Copying or translating my writing is not allowed. If you see my work on another site it is stolen. Reblogs are appreciated and encouraged.

You weren't a religious person by any means. But staying the night at your parents had you up early, trying to find the most church-appropriate outfit. of course, your parents failed to tell you that they were planning on bringing you along to church. Your skirt was a bit too short. But it is not like you had room to complain with such short notice!

You remember going to high school with Father Charlie— or as you knew him Charlie. The two of you didn't run with the same crowds-- but you knew each other.

Now, here you were. Paying no attention to the words coming from his mouth and all attention to how good he looked. Damn-- maybe you should have shot your shot years ago when he was a personal trainer.

As you watched him at the head of the room, you allowed your mind to wander.

One extremely long and boring sermon later, you stand awkwardly behind your parents as they talk to what Seems like every member of the church. God how you regret agreeing to come-- It's not like you knew anyone here- none of your friends went to church. But here you were, being judged by middle-aged churchgoers. How fun.

The sound of your name being called catches your attention.

You whip your head around to the noise, "Father Charlie!" The name is unnatural as it falls from your lips. You quickly look at your parents- too engrossed in a conversation. “It's been a while!" You awkwardly step closer to the man.

He hums, "It has been, hasn't it? The first time in the church as well.”

“Well, you know...” You gesture back to your parents.

"I'm assuming this wasn't on your schedule.” He looks you up and down, “Given your attire.”

You gasp sharply, heat rising to your face as you pathetically try to pull your skirt down. "I-uh,” you try to think of an excuse, "I didn't pack any pants..." You lie-- lying in a church is one thing but to the priest?

If Charlie sensed your lie he didn't comment on it. "Well, I hope you enjoyed today's sermon.”

"I did!" You lie again, a little too enthusiastically.

Charlie narrows his eyes at you, "You weren't paying attention, were you?" His voice is playful.

"No, I was not," You quickly confess.

He laughs, you have to fight to not stare shamefully at his beautiful face for too long. "That's odd— because when I looked at you, you looked very focused," He teases.

“I wasn't paying attention to your voice. Just your fa-" you stop in your tracks. Utterly petrified at the situation you have just found yourself in. His eyebrows raise in surprise at your slip-up. “I mean I didn't even know that you could see me in that crowd-- I-I- just figured that-”

“That every time we locked eyes it wasn't on purpose?” he finishes your thought.

You nod pathetically, your shoes suddenly extremely interesting.

Charlie takes a step towards you, the proximity making you look up at the man. Has he always been that tall? "I want you to go into my office and wait for me.” His voice is a seductive tone you have never heard him use before. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“But what about my parents?” you ask, voice just above a whisper.

“Dont worry about them,” he assures before walking away. Leaving you standing alone— stunned.

To say you were terrified was an understatement. Sure, you weren't in any danger-- at least you didn't think so. What exactly had you gotten yourself into? Here you sat, in a priest's office. Surrounded by biblical Imagery. And you were 99% Sure you were soaked through your cotton panties, you didn't care. No one but you was going to know... right?

Five minutes turned to ten. You sat anxiously in the chair across from Charlie's desk. A clock on the wall ticked away obnoxiously. You had figured when you walked in it would take him a while for him to return. how long should you wait? Has he forgotten that you were sitting in his office, impatiently waiting? You didn't dare to snoop, or even scroll on your phone. Charlie said to wait for him, and that's what you would do.

For thirty minutes you're alone in that office. you straighten your posture when you hear the clicks of Charlie’s boots nearing. The sound of the door opening makes you flinch pathetically. You don't dare turn around. Eyes glued on the desk in front of you.

Charlie is silent as he moves around behind you. Your pulse pounds in your throat at the anticipation.

“You seem nervous.” You tense at his voice, still refusing to turn around and face the man.

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, “I am nervous, Father.” You press your thighs together in an atempt to find some sort of relief to your throbbing center.

He groans quietly from behind you, “look at me.”

Like a magnet your head whips around to look at the man. His sharp gaze made your breath hitch. You felt hazy as he stepped towards you. Your eyes locked on his as he comes to stand right in front of you. Your breath quickens when he captures your chin in between his thumb and pointer finger.

Charlies predatory gaze on you deepens, his lips curling into a smirk, "you--" he rubs the lipstick on your mouth, smudging it. "Are such a pretty mess for me, darling.”

You bat your eyelashes up at him, “I don't know what you mean, Father.”

He grips the sides of your face harshly, cheeks smushing together into a pout. “Showing up to my church dressed like a slut—” he spits, “shamlessly eyefucking me the whole time like you were the only one in the room.”

You whimper at his words— he was right of course. But that didn't stop your face from flushing in embarrassment.

“Now look at you. Slut. Sitting before me like a doe as if you didn’t wait in my office hoping I would come in here and fuck you like the whore that you are.”

You moan shamelessly when he lets go of your face, while your whole body was screaming at you to submit to the man before you. You could help but push his buttons just a little bit further.

“You know for a priest you sure do have a filthy mouth—” His eyes narrow on you as you speak. “im such a slut but here you are hard in your pants over a damn mini skirt.” If looks could kill, you’d surely be dead. You needed more.

You open your mouth to speak again. But before you could even get a sound out, Charlie strikes his large hand across your cheek. You moan again, “fuck!”

Wordlessly, he turns to the desk before you. You watch curiously as he haphazardly pushes the clutter on his desk onto the floor. Your hands tremble in anticipation as you watch him bound towards you. He effortlessly picks you up from the chair you sat on, as if a reflex you cross you’d ankles behind his back as his hands greedily grip your thighs and ass.

He gently places you on the recently cleared off desk. A stark contrast to the way he effortlessly hoisted you from your seat. You attempt to grind down in the wooden desk under you for some kind of stimulation, but Charlie’s grip stops you.

“So impatient,” he purrs. He captures your lips in a quick, gentle kiss. You whine at the loss of him, but you don’t have to worry for long as his hands greedily grasps at your skirt, tearing at your legs. He leaves you with one last opened mouth kiss as he begins to trail wet kisses down your neck.

He mumbles something you can’t quite hear. But you don’t really care when he sinks to his knees, his strong hands prying your legs open. He trails more kisses to your inner thigh all the way up to your core. He licks a stripe over your soaked through panties, your legs try to close but his hands are holding your thighs open. His eyes lock on yours as he pulls them down your legs, the speed agonizing as you whimper. In a second his lips are back on you, his wet kisses up your thighs driving you mad.

“Charlie,” You thread your hand through his hair as he bites and licks at your heat like a starved man.

He mumbles a quick “no,” as he pulls away from you. His chin slicked and shiny from you. The scene is pornographic, if you had a camera you’d take a picture. He fumbles with his belt buckle and throws it to the side, the metal clanking to the floor loudly. You shamelessly stare as he stands back up, towering over you again he gets close enough that you feel his breath on your face.

“Look at you,” he tuts. You lurch forward— pulling him into a greedy, filthy kiss. When he moans into your mouth it’s the most heavenly sound you’ve ever heard. Pushing you back into the desk, once again he’s muttering something, a prayer. You paw at his zipper and he lazily watches you has you pull out his angry cock.

“Please?” You beg, tears welling up in your eyes from sheer sexual frustration.

“Since you asked so nicely~” he steals a quick kiss before dragging his leaking tip through your folds.

He pushes into you fully in one smooth motion. Your back arches up off of the desk, wood painfully digging into your spine. You didn’t care— all you cared about was him.

Fast sharp deep thrusts have you screaming as the sounds of skin ring throughout the office. You curse- throwing your arms over your head. Charlie’s mouth gaping while he groans, pressing and thrusting himself into you.

"Just, like that, oh.. god." You wail as he slams himself into your g spot repeatedly.

Charlie greedily paws at your clothed breasts as his hips slap into yours. You clench around him— you can already feel your orgasm building from the rough pace set. Charlie’s hips stutter from your action and you clench again. A low groan leaves his beautifully shaped lips as he digs his fingers into your hips.

You moan— you try to form words but Charlie feels so good inside of you that your brain feels like mush. He seems to be able to tell your close however by the way his thumb reaches down to rub sloppy circles onto your clit.

Your vision turns white as you come undone. Your nails dig into the desk below you as Charlie chases his own release. He leans down, pressing kisses into your cheeks and necks, unlike the kisses before; these are gentle and caring. You hiss when he pulls out of you, missing the feeling of him inside you immediately.

“How much convincing will it take for you to come to next weeks service?” He breathily laughs against the side of your face.

“If it’s gonna end like this again— none at all.”

♡︎༻🌸༺♡︎

Tag list (If you want to be added just comment!)

@Nallasstuff @chmpgneprblem @qoopeeya @lilybellalana @sleepysongbirdsings

[greengoblinswifey]

White Boy of the Month- Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

warnings: smut, jealous!reader, unprotected sex, oral(f receiving) creampie, praise kink, established relationship, this monstrosity i conjured up.

author’s note: i’ve only ever written smut for characters and not actors so i feel a bit weird about this, hope you guys like it regardless. ps: his irl gf is the coolest ik she be breaking that dick, this is all just fantasy <3

Nicholas was everywhere these days. TikTok’s new “white boy of the month”, and it seemed like everyone had taken notice. You were lying in bed, scrolling through TikTok, watching yet another edit of him. The one that kept popping up on your feed was to "Shake Dat Ah" by Bossman Dlow, and it had blown up. The video cut perfectly between slow-motion shots of him smiling and laughing, looking so effortlessly handsome with that amazing body. You couldn’t help but watch it on repeat.

You were so engrossed in it that you didn’t notice Nicholas walking into the room until he stood by the bed. Your eyes widened as you quickly tried to scroll away from the TikTok, but it was too late. He caught you.

“You’re watching the edits again, aren’t you?” Nicholas chuckled, his lips curving into that playful smirk you knew too well. “Enjoying them?”

Your face warmed, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. “I enjoy having you in front of me way more,” you teased, giving him a wink.

He grinned and joined you on the bed, lying beside you. He nestled his head on your chest, his face resting against your tits as he made himself comfortable. You resumed watching the TikTok, this time paying attention to the comments. As expected, they were filled with thirsty women.

“He’s so hot, I can’t take it!” “Nicholas Chavez is my husband now, no one can tell me otherwise.” “I’m gonna need him to come over here and shake dat ah for me.” “Fuck me daddy.” “I need him so fucking bad.”

You rolled your eyes at the flood of heart-eye emojis and wild comments, but couldn’t help feeling a slight twinge of jealousy. Nicholas, sensing your shift in mood, peeked up at you.

“Jealous?” he asked softly, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You hesitated, scrolling through another comment about how someone wanted to marry him and have him deflower them. “Maybe just a little,” you admitted, though you couldn’t help but smile down at him. “It’s not like I can’t see why they’re obsessed.”

He reached up, placing a kiss on your collarbone, his eyes never leaving yours. “They can have the edits, but I’m here with you.”

You exhaled softly, letting go of the jealousy. You knew you had him, right there in your arms, and no TikTok comment could take that away. “I guess I can deal with it,” you teased, your fingers brushing through his hair. “As long as you remember who you really belong to.”

He laughed, his breath warm against your skin. “Always.”

The energy between you and Nicholas shifted in an instant. His playful demeanor was gone, replaced by something far more intense. Without a word, he reached up, pulling your tank top down just enough to free your tits. Your breath hitched as his warm hands cupped them, and you tossed your phone to the side, the TikTok edits now a distant thought, though you’d definitely be watching and gushing later. Your fingers found their way into his hair, gripping softly as he kissed down your body, leaving a trail of heat in his wake.

When he reached the waistband of your panties, his lips pressed firmly against your clothed pussy, making you gasp. Without hesitation, he grabbed the fabric and, with a sharp rip, tore them off with his strong, muscular arms. The rawness of the action sent a jolt of arousal through you, and you felt your body respond immediately.

“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice low and commanding. Your eyes met his, and he smirked. “No woman in any comment section will ever feel my tongue on them like you do right now.”

Before you could respond, his mouth was on you, ravishing your clit with fierce hunger. His tongue moved in circles, sending wave after wave of pleasure through your core. His finger slid inside you, curling in just the right way, making you whimper. When he added a second finger, your body couldn’t take it anymore. Your back arched off the bed as you came hard, cumming all over his mouth and fingers, your moans filling the room.

Nicholas didn’t stop, his lips and fingers continuing to work you through the orgasm, his eyes locked on your face. “So pretty,” he murmured between licks, “Your pussy looks so pretty. You look so pretty when you cum.”

Your chest heaved as you came down from your high, your mind hazy with pleasure. His words sent another flush of heat through you as he pulled back slightly, his lips glistening. “I’m all yours,” he whispered, his fingers still inside you, moving slowly. “And you’re all mine.”

“I’m yours Nicholas,” you whimpered and he smiled.

He pulled off his boxers, his big, thick cock springing free, standing hard and ready. The tip was a bright, flushed pink, curving just slightly, making your breath hitch in anticipation. He settled between your legs, teasing your clit with the head of his cock, rubbing it slowly, sending shivers through your entire body. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, desperate to feel him inside you.

He positioned himself at your entrance, and slowly, so slowly, began to push in. His cock stretched you inch by inch, your tight pussy gripping him as he filled you. He let out a deep hiss as he sank deeper, his body trembling from the pleasure. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his voice strained with restraint.

You clung to his arms, gasping, “You’re so big,” the words barely a whisper as he continued pushing inside, his thick length stretching you to the limit. When he was fully inside, he paused, his forehead resting against yours, both of you breathing heavily before he started to move, pounding into you in deep, steady strokes.

“You’re my beautiful girl,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire as he thrusted into you. “And I’m yours. Forever. No one’s ever gonna take me away from you.”

Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through you, your clit rubbing against his hard, muscular body as he drove into you. His pace quickened, and you looked up at him, heart racing at the sight. His disheveled hair fell into his half-lidded, pretty eyes, his lips flushed and parted, groaning your name over and over like a chant, like he was worshiping you.

Your own lips parted in a moan, his name spilling from you like a prayer, like he was your priest, the only one you could ever confess to. The pleasure built inside you with every thrust, his body, his touch, his words claiming you completely. He wasn’t just fucking you, he was worshiping you, and in that moment, you were lost to him, praying with every moan, every cry of his name.

Nicholas could feel how close you were, your breath quickened, your moans growing louder, and your pussy gripped him like a vice. His eyes darkened with desire as he watched the way your body reacted to his every thrust. His cock throbbed inside you, and with a low, husky voice, he rasped, “You’re so beautiful, baby. You’ll look even more beautiful cumming on my cock while I’m fucking you like this.”

His words ignited the fire inside you, pushing you past the brink. With a sharp cry, your orgasm crashed through you, and your body trembled uncontrollably. Your pussy tightened around him, squeezing him as you came hard, your walls pulsating and clenching around his thick cock. He groaned deeply, feeling every spasm as you drenched him, but he didn’t let up. He kept thrusting, his pace relentless, pushing you through the waves of pleasure, letting you ride it out fully.

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” he growled through clenched teeth, still lost in the tightness of your body. His hands gripped your hips tightly, feeling your warmth and the way your pussy gripped him like you never wanted to let go. He thrusted in harder, determined to give you more, to show you just how much you drove him crazy.

His own release was building fast, but he held back just long enough to murmur against your ear, “It’s my turn now. And you know what I want.”

Without hesitation, you arched your back for him, pressing your ass high in the air, presenting yourself to him as he moved behind you. Nicholas positioned himself between your legs, guiding his cock back inside you with one swift, hard thrust. You moaned at the feeling of being filled up again, his cock stretching you as he pounded into you from behind.

His grip tightened around your waist, and each thrust was more powerful than the last. His hands occasionally left your hips to deliver firm slaps to your ass, the sound of his hands meeting your skin echoing in the room. “God, look at you,” he growled, his voice low and thick with lust. “So fucking sexy. And this ass, so fucking perfect.”

You glanced back at him, your half-lidded eyes catching sight of his toned, muscular body—his abs flexing with every thrust, his biceps bulging as he held you in place. His messy hair framed his chiseled face, and the raw look of pleasure etched into his expression was enough to make you moan his name all over again, lost in the sight of him.

The pleasure built quickly inside you once more, your pussy gripping his cock tighter, squeezing him as another wave of pleasure started to overtake you. Nicholas could feel it too, his cock throbbing inside of you as he growled low in his throat. “I’m gonna cum,” he warned, his voice strained. “I’m close, baby.”

You were desperate, your voice needy as you begged, “Please, Nick, cum inside me. I want it. Fill me up.”

He hesitated, smirking as he slowed his pace for just a moment. “I can’t hear you,” he teased. “You’re gonna have to say that louder, baby.”

Your desperation heightened, and you practically screamed it this time. “Cum inside me, Nick! I need it! Please!”

With a deep, guttural groan, he slammed into you one final time, holding you close as his cock pulsed inside you, releasing thick, hot spurts of cum deep within you. He moaned your name as he came, his hands gripping your hips tightly, pressing you against him as he filled you up. He didn’t pull out right away, instead, he relished the feeling of being inside you, his cock still throbbing, every muscle in his body tense as he savored the moment.

Before you could catch your breath, he swiftly flipped you over, pulling you on top of him. His cock was still buried deep inside your pussy as he shifted the position, thrusting up into you gently now, making sure you squeezed every last drop of his cum out. You whimpered softly, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, your pussy gripping him as he guided your hips slowly.

Nicholas gazed up at you, his hands tender now, caressing your waist as he whispered between kisses. “My baby. You’re so fucking beautiful. I love you so much.”

You leaned down to kiss him softly, your heart swelling at his words. “I love you too,” you murmured, your voice tired but full of affection.

Nicholas kissed your forehead and whispered against your skin, “I’m so happy my career’s taking off, and no matter what, you’ll always be by my side, and I’ll take care of you every step of the way. You deserve the world.”

You smiled softly, resting your head on his chest as he moved to get up. “Wait,” you said, stopping him. “Don’t go. I just want to stay like this, with you inside me, and I wanna listen your heartbeat.”

He grinned, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you close again. “Okay, baby. Whatever you want.” He kissed the top of your head and settled back, letting you rest against his chest, his heart beating steadily beneath your ear as you both drifted off into a peaceful, satisfied slumber, completely wrapped in each other.

[skzdarlings]

everything ; skz ; werewolf!felix x reader

requested by @yongbbokkie: if possible, can I have Sunshine!Felix with the prompt/s: ❛ i'm waiting for your permission to let me have my way with you. ❜ and ❛ do whatever you want with me, i'm yours. ❜

((maybe it's a pining from afar situation and something puts them in close quarters and Felix just can't help himself anymore))

read on ao3

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: werewolf!au. friends2lovers. miscommunication and misunderstandings followed by resolution and smut. mentions of reader being in a past abusive relationship though the circumstances are not detailed. not omegaverse just werewolves but mentions of rut cycles and slightly different physiology.

this is, um, the wettest thing i've ever written. there is no other word for it. so much come, masturbating (reader walks in on felix), pervy masturbating using reader's stuff lol, massive breeding kink, multiple rounds, scenting, possessiveness, throat-grabbing, biting, pussy eating, squirting, dirty talk. did i mention come.

word count: 15800 words. (hope it makes up for the delay hehe)

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy <3

-

For a few moments, Felix is yours.  There is no awkwardness, no reluctance, just dancing, just friendship. 

The club is packed so tightly, the lights and music as roaring as lightning and thunder.  The extra stimulation overwhelms the senses, even werewolf senses.  He doesn’t think and neither do you.  You just dance, finding each other in the bouncing circle of your half-drunk friend group.  He smiles and you take his hand, letting him pull you across the dance floor and into his arms. 

You’ve missed this smile.  You’ve missed these arms.   

Sure, Felix is still your best friend and he is never truly far.  The distance is not literal, just emotional, and that is so much worse. 

Ever since his werewolf genes kicked in, ever since a pack took him in, things have just been… different. 

Right now, you can pretend nothing has changed.  You are far away from ivory moons waning over woodlands, of werewolf packs and supernatural powers.  His senses are diluted here, overpowered by so many moving bodies and so much wild noise. 

Felix smiles, that wonderful big smile that crinkles his eyes so sweetly.  Lights flash over him, his blonde hair nearly glowing, his freckles like stars.  He’s your best friend again.  All yours for a few precious moments. 

He’s bigger than he was, you think, with a bit of a flush, as you dance closer to him, his arms circling your body.  Or maybe I just never noticed before. 

Felix is not very tall, but he is not small either, lean and athletic and confident in every inch of his body.  It feels like he is everywhere.  Every time a strobe light flashes over him, he seems a little closer.  You breathe in his cologne, subtler than it used to be because his sense of smell is so powerful now, but still recognizable. 

You are definitely not a werewolf, but you are captivated by that smell.  Something oak, woodsy, masculine but pretty.   So very Felix.  You want to bathe in that smell, luxuriate in him.  You spent so many nights curled into his side, sharing his bed, wearing one of his hoodies, that you associate that scent with everything good, safe, and home. 

His hands dance up your sides very softly, his breath puffing across your cheek as you dance and dance.  One song pours into the next.  You lose track of time.  In forgetting the world, you forget yourself.   You slide your arms around his shoulders and press close to him. 

You used to hug him like this so easily, but you have hardly touched him at all the last few months.  Felix could never be cruel to anyone so he has not outright rejected your usual closeness, but it is obvious that your touch now makes him uncomfortable.  The last thing you ever, ever want to do is hurt Felix.   So you have followed his lead.  Every time he accidentally pulls a face –  a displeased twitch of his nose, an upset furrow of his brow – you have backed away.   

It’s just the werewolf senses, you keep telling yourself.  He’s more sensitive now, that’s all. 

He still hugs the others.  The werewolf boys love rough-housing, in fact, tumbling all over each other constantly.

That’s different.  Yes, very different than this, right here, right now, his hands sliding down your sides – slowly, like he is memorizing the shape of your waist.  He squeezes your hips and it fills you with heat.  His hot face touches yours, cheek to cheek.  The music is pounding, a frantic sound, but you are slow dancing, keeping to the rhythm of your heartbeats where they beat against each other. 

You slide a hand up the back of his neck, into his long blonde hair.  You feel the shudder move through his whole body.   It makes your legs feel weak, realizing the effect you have on him.  It seems impossible, especially with how much he has pushed you away, but there is no way he is shivering for any other reason.  He cannot possibly be cold.  The club is packed and, besides, he is not human.  He runs hot. 

So hot.  He radiates it, burning where your bodies press together.  Felix has always been the sunshine that keeps you warm, but this is a different heat.  You know better than to succumb to it, knowing this moment will pass, but right now it is so easy to cling to him, to breathe him in, to feel like the world is just you and him. 

The real world soon returns.  It’s getting late so your friends call it a night. 

“We’ll drop you off, yeah?” Chan says to you.  Felix lives with him and the other wolves now.  They all have their own apartments but they live in the same high-rise.  You live a few blocks down, close, but not quite belonging. 

“I don’t mind walking,” you say. 

You do not want to intrude and you do not want to make Felix uncomfortable.  He doesn’t even know Chan is offering you a ride because he standing so far away. 

Felix is looking at his phone, slouched against the car while everyone organizes themselves.  He is wearing a leather jacket, a white shirt, blue jeans, his long hair falling into his face.  You want to brush it back, feel it between your fingers.  You want to lift his face and see his smile.    

But he doesn’t look at you.  Now that you are outside, now that the heat has dissipated and the cold breeze carries your bland, dull, human scent, now that he can remember you are not special and not like him – now, he is someone else, and you are too, and it is cold and dreary and miserable. 

“What?”  Chan says.  He is such a good pack leader and a good friend, but it makes him utterly oblivious to little dramas like this.  “You’re not walking by yourself this late at night, don’t be crazy.  Come on.” 

The pack leader does not take no for an answer.  Even though you are not in the pack, being human, there is no refusing Bang Chan.  He grabs you by the wrist and drags you to his car. 

Jeongin is in the front seat.  Seungmin takes a back corner before Felix can lift his head, before he even knows you will be in the car too. 

Felix looks tense when realizes he is trapped with you.   Whether he takes the middle seat or the other corner, you will be beside him.  If standing together outside is so intolerable, then being in a car is going to be torturous.  

“I can walk,” you say to him. 

“What?”  He shakes his head.  When he smiles, it is not his usual smile, not something real.  You know the difference.  His proper smile brightens you but this smile makes your heart sink.  “Of course not,” he says.  “C’mon.  It’s late.  Let’s get home, yeah?”   

“Yeah,” you say, but he is already gone, taking all sense of home with him.   

You take the middle seat.  Felix rolls his window down and leans towards it.  His eyes are closed the entire journey, the wind blowing across his tired face. 

Seungmin is also a werewolf but he does not seem bothered by your human scent.  Jeongin and Chan, the other packmates, likewise seem indifferent, chatting about everything and nothing, totally unperturbed.   And you must cross paths with many werewolves during the day, but no one ever seems bothered by you. 

Felix is the only werewolf who seems to have a problem with your scent.  You do not know what it is that affects him so deeply.  You have tried changing soaps and shampoos but nothing seems to help.  It must be something natural to your human body.  Humans do not smell like werewolves in general.  Werewolves release pheromones that humans cannot smell, and it is important in forging interpersonal dynamics.  That includes romance.  Werewolves mate for life.  You know they find their true mates through smell as much as the other senses.  They are biologically wired to pursue their perfect match based on all those senses. 

You are not a werewolf.  You can never be his true mate.  In the few months since he fully and rapidly developed his werewolf senses, Felix has withdrawn from you even though he promised it would never separate you. 

You used to talk about what would happen if his werewolf genes activated.  He comes from a family of werewolves but the gene lays dormant in certain carriers.  Most werewolves develop in puberty if they develop at all.  Some people never develop their wolven senses or powers.  A minority, like Felix, are triggered by something in adulthood and succumb all at once. 

It was always a possibility, however minute, but he promised things would stay the same.  He said you were his person, that best friend did not even suffice as a word to describe your love.

You’re my world, you know, he said one night, speaking with the sort of earnest sincerity that only Felix could, his deep voice rumbling in your ear as you cuddled into him.     

You wanted to say it back but you were hurting at the time.  You ended a bad relationship a year earlier.  It took your tender heart far too long to realize how badly your ex-boyfriend was treating you.  When Felix found out the details, he was furious, though he kept it down around you.  You had never seen your best friend so emotional.  He became even more protective in the aftermath. 

He showed you, time and time again, what real love is supposed to be.  It doesn’t rush or demand, it doesn’t manipulate or coerce, and it doesn’t ask you to be small.  He would hold you all night if that’s what you needed.  He would make you laugh and let you cry. 

You slowly realized true love had been in front of you, all this time, begging to be seen. 

At least, you thought so.   After such a bad relationship, you were taking it slow, and Felix never rushed you.  You thought, maybe, one day…

But just when you were ready, everything changed.  The werewolf gene unexpectedly activated.  Felix was admitted to a wolven hospital and underwent his first transformation under a full moon.  When he came home, he was different.   Sure, he was still Felix, with his long dyed hair and his many freckles and his sun-kissed skin, but his brown eyes were so very different when he looked at you. 

If he looked at you, which he avoids these days.     

“Home sweet home,” Chan says, parking the car outside your apartment building. 

Felix wastes no time getting out of the vehicle, practically spilling onto the sidewalk in his haste.   He holds the door for you but averts his gaze. 

You thank Chan, say good night to the other boys, then you shuffle across the seat and step out of the car.   Felix still does not look at you, pretending he is distracted with something across the street. 

You are a little tipsy, your emotions easily riled.  You want to say good night so it will finally prompt him to look at you, but you are suddenly very choked up.  Thoughtlessly, you touch his arm instead.

He flinches.  It feels worse than a slap.

You do not look at him again, hurrying to the building before he can see the tears in your eyes. 

Miraculously, you hold them in until you reach your apartment.  You are one foot in the doorway when the tears spill, all the emotions you’ve suppressed over the last few months finally flooding free.  The door falls closed with a slam and the whole world collapses under you.

You drop right there, knees pulled up to your chest and face buried in your hands. 

You spent so many nights like this, crying all alone until you worked up the courage to tell Felix about your bad relationship.  He was immediately understanding.  It was so foolish to fear he would ever judge you.  He put an arm around you and held you all night.

He is the person you want to call when you are hurting.  It is agonizing to be without him.  He is the one person you need and the one person you cannot call right now. 

You let yourself feel sorry and miserable.  When the tears have subsided and you are slouched against your door, empty and tired, you make a decision to end this.  You have spent too much of your life collapsed on the floor and crying on your lonesome.  You refuse to do it again. 

As horrible as it is, you need to distance yourself from Felix.  This slow deterioration of your relationship is excruciating.   If he decides to reach out, you will be there, but you simply cannot continue to compromise yourself. 

You somehow manage to wash up and get in bed.   You sleep through the morning and rise late, delaying the inevitable a little longer by scrolling on your phone.  Felix used to be the first text of the day but there is nothing from him.  You would usually message anyway but today you put your phone aside and get out of bed. 

So much of Felix is in your apartment.  Borrowed hoodies, games, books, and so much more.  Items are littered everywhere from the bedroom to the bathroom to the kitchen and back.   It takes an hour and you are not sure you find everything because he is so inextricably woven into your living space.  You do not even see it anymore because it – because he – is always there. 

You fill a cardboard box.  Your plan is to walk the couple blocks to the high-rise and return it with a vague explanation.  You are not sure what to say.  Perhaps it is best to opt for brevity.  After all, this is not a break-up because you are not a couple. 

No, you think, staring at the full box with watery eyes, this is worse. 

You make it a few steps out your door before you drop the box.  It is way, way too heavy for you to carry two feet, never mind two city blocks.  Already panting with exertion, you stare at the box taking up a huge slab of the narrow corridor. 

You really don’t want to ask him to come get it, nor do you want to make multiple trips.  You are scared that if you give him the opportunity, he will try and reassure you that nothing is wrong and you don’t need to do this.  You’ll believe him in the moment, but then it will start all over again.  

Like ripping off a bandage, it has to go all at once.  It’s time to heal. 

You push the box, budging it down the corridor inch by slow inch.  You reach the elevator and press the call button.   You calculate the logistics of pushing and shoving the box for two blocks, mostly concerned the cardboard will rip if it snags on something outside. 

Lost in thought, you don’t see a person in the elevator and accidentally shove the box at him.  He yelps, a loud cry of surprise as he jumps aside.  It makes you leap out of your skin, shooting upright to look at him. 

Some of your despondency leaves at the friendly face of your neighbour.

“Changbin!” you say.  “I’m so sorry.  I didn’t even see you there.”

“Hey now,” he says, winking, his handsome face plastered with a grin, “I’m not that short.” 

“No, of course not,” you say, laughing along with him. 

Changbin is a werewolf as well.  There are a lot of packs on this side of town because the large national park is nearby.   The wolves like to use the expansive forest when the full moon cycle swings around. 

“Moving out?” he asks with an eyebrow quirk.

“Ah,” you say.  “Not quite.”

You explain your predicament, that the box belongs to a friend and you need to somehow reach his apartment building two blocks away.  Changbin, ever the charmer and ever the helper, immediately offers his aid. 

“Oh, you don’t have to—” you start, but he has already swung the big box into his arms.

Werewolves do have supernatural strength.  Changbin looks strong, with big biceps and a stocky frame, never mind the supernatural enhancement.   He doesn’t even break a sweat.  The box might as well be empty for all the difference it makes to him.

He is kind enough to walk two blocks to the high-rise.  You chat on the way and find the conversation flows easily.   You also can’t help but notice he has no problem with your scent.  It really is just Felix who seems so repulsed. 

You ring the buzzer for Felix’s apartment but there is no answer.  You try a couple more times, embarrassed because Changbin is waiting.  Fortunately, he is very non-plussed, humming to himself while you ring the buzzer. 

After a few tries, you ring Chan instead.  He answers promptly and you explain the bare bones of the situation, that you have a box for Felix and you would appreciate if he could pass it along.   Chan agrees, of course. 

Maybe it is for the best. You can leave the box with Chan and not even have to confront Felix at all.   

Chan buzzes you into the building.  Changbin walks you to the elevator where he puts the box down.  You thank him profusely but he waves it off and states he was happy to help. 

It looks like he wants to say something more, looking at you while he rubs the back of his neck.   In the end, he says he will see you around and departs.

You exhale.  The worst of your nerves have dissipated since Felix is not even home.  You have been the one instigating your interactions the last few months so you figure if you just quietly step back, he won’t even notice. 

It pains you to admit it, that you could disappear from his life and he would just… not care.  You stuff those feelings down, down, down for now.  You prepare a friendly smile for Chan so he doesn’t ask too many questions. 

When you reach the pack floor, you give the box a good shove into the corridor.   Chan lives directly across from the elevator so you don’t have far to go.

Except there are voices in the corridor.  You turn towards the sound. 

An awful chill freezes in your blood, your whole body going rigid at what you see. 

Felix is home.  He is standing in his open doorway, half-dressed in a pair of jeans and nothing more.  His long hair looks more dishevelled than usual, like someone has been running their fingers through it. 

Someone.  He is talking to a young woman.  You don’t know her too well, simply that she is the only female werewolf in Chan’s small pack.  She is wearing more clothes than Felix but still very casual in shorts and a t-shirt, barefoot like this is her home.   You suppose it is, much more her home than yours.   

She belongs.  You do not. 

Her and Felix are standing close while they converse.  So close.  They speak to each other in hushed tones, her expression tender and sympathetic while Felix winces in seeming pain.  The details of their conversation are inarticulate at a distance but their voices are nonetheless audible. 

Your scent reaches Felix first.  He straightens so fast it would be comical under any other circumstances. 

Nothing is funny right now.  You feel like a complete and utter fool, standing in his corridor with a box of his things like he cares about them at all.  He has already moved on.  You were in denial, a stupid little human girl still clinging desperately to old memories.   

“I better go,” the woman says.  She leans up and kisses Felix on the cheek, gives him a little wink and mumbles something only he can hear.   She turns and walks into the apartment next door, giving you a genuinely friendly wave.  She has always been polite to you and you have no reason to dislike her.  You can only wave back pathetically. 

Your hand slaps your side when she disappears into her apartment.  You and Felix look at each other. 

He looks guilty.  Sweat dots his hairline, streaks his bare chest, and his face is flushed.  It is very obvious what he has been doing all morning.  

The thought of such a fantasy was once tantalizing.  The sight of him, like this, would make you dizzy. You remember the last time he casually took off his shirt, the swoop of desire that moved inside you, a sensation you did not even know you could still feel after your bad relationship.

Now that swoop is just nausea.  There is no pleasure in it at all.   

You are completely mortified. 

“Hey,” Felix says.   His deep voice breaks on a high-pitched twinge.  He clears his throat.   “Um,” he says.  He runs his fingers through his hair, mussing it even more.   He can’t seem to bring himself to meet your gaze, eyes darting all over the corridor but never you.

You curl your fingers, nails pressing hard into your palm. 

“Look,” he says, clearing his throat again.  “We need to talk about—”

You don’t want to hear it.  You can’t hear it.  You are hurt and embarrassed and devastated.  Why couldn’t he just tell you he wanted to pursue a werewolf?  It makes sense, biologically, and you can hardly fault him for the desire.   Honesty would have hurt but not like this.  Now you have to suffer the rejection of the only man you ever truly loved and suffer the fact you were not even worth a conversation. 

It is too late to talk.    

“It’s fine, Felix,” you say.  All your messy, menial scripts crumble in your mind.  Emotion takes over, bitterness and pain and irritation.   “I brought you your things,” you say, pointing to the box.  His eyes dart there for the first time, brow furrowing.  “If I find anymore, I’ll give them to Chan.  He’ll pass them along.”

“Um, what?”  He looks from the box to you. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” you say, blinking back tears.  Your feelings come out in fragments, word after word with little coherency.  “After everything I went through last year – I just – this is too much.  The werewolf thing – I just – I can’t.  I’m sorry.  I can’t have you in my life like this.  Thank you for your friendship.  The memories will always be important to me.  But it’s for the best we don’t see each other again.”

You had not planned on so much finality, but that was before.  Now you need to leave.  If you stay here another second, you are going to fall apart. 

“Good luck with everything,” you say. 

You turn to leave but he says your name.  You suck in a breath, wait a beat, and slowly turn back around. 

Felix walks partway down the hallway, his whole face screwed up with pain and confusion.  His mouth is moving but no words are coming out.  Finally he closes his eyes and shakes his head, slamming a hand into his hair. 

“Hold on,” he says.  “Hold on, I – what are you talking about?  You – you don’t want to be friends?  How can – You can’t—”  That deep voice breaks again, fracturing with emotion. 

A part of you knows that you are being too harsh, letting your own emotions dominate your words.  Another part of you is too heartbroken to care. 

“It’s for the best,” you say weakly, your voice barely more than a breath of a sound.  “Really.” 

“For the best?” he asks, voice pitching up again.   He has not looked at you so intensely for so long.  “How can you say that to me?”

Much to your horror, he starts crying first.  His tears seem to catch him by surprise too, his expression puckering as he tries to stop it.  A hand flies up, covering his eyes.  He shakes his head rapidly. 

“Felix,” you whisper. 

“For the best?” he repeats.  He drops his hand and takes a shuddering breath. 

You avert your gaze.  You can’t stand to look at his eyes so full of tears, his face so strained with hurt. 

“Did something happen?” he asks, taking a few more steps towards you.  “Was it – was it me?  You said – the werewolf thing –  Did I do something?  Please, please tell me.”

He doesn’t even realize how much he has withdrawn from you.  He is bad at controlling his face, as evidenced now, so he probably has no idea how blatant his repulsion has been.   Maybe he thought he was being subtle.  Maybe he thought you wouldn’t care, that you were just his friend and you would be content to relegate yourself to the sidelines of his life.  Maybe that is all your fault after all. 

If you were a better friend, you would have coped with his new feelings.  You would have been happy for him.  If you were a better friend, maybe he would have told you sooner. 

“You deserve a better friend than me,” you say. 

He looks at you like you are completely crazy, his head tilted, his eyes narrowing. 

“What?” he asks.  “Where is this coming from?  Please, I don’t understand.  You can’t be saying what I think you’re saying.” 

“I already told you,” you say, as calmly as you can.  “I just can’t do this anymore.  Our lives are heading in different directions and I – I – I just need to go.  I want to go.  Please.” 

You have known Felix all your life.  You were children together, hapless youths on a playground that immediately loved each other with the easy, thoughtless affection of childhood. 

He reminds you of that child now, innocently standing in the corridor with his arms hanging limp at his sides and so much bewilderment on his freckled face. 

“You want to go?” he repeats, voice low, soft.  

You nod.  After a second, he nods back, bottom lip still quivering.  A fresh stream of tears spill over his eyes.  He hiccups on a sob, turning away and covering his face.

“Fine,” he says, speaking between shaky breaths.  “Go.  I can’t – I can’t keep you here if you want to go.” 

“Thank you,” you say softly.  The elevator is still waiting when you press the call button.  You step onto it and say, “Good bye, Felix.” 

As the doors close, you hear another choking sob.  You name is lost in the sound.    

The door closes. 

-

The regret is instantaneous.  You stare at your phone for hours and even debate returning to his apartment, but in the end you do nothing. 

You replay every moment, from seeing him with the other werewolf to his confusion and your departure.  It was a long, long walk home, tears streaming down your face as your mind went back even further, remembering every moment of your friendship. 

How could this have happened?  You and Felix have always been open with each other.  He was the first person you confided in about your bad relationship and he immediately did everything to save you from it.  But when it was the other way around, when the werewolf gene activated, he turned away from your friendship.  You poured your heart out to him, trusting he would catch it and keep it safe, but he did not feel the same way. 

Secrets, confusion, heartbreak.  It plays on a loop in your mind. 

It is the middle of the night when you get a text.  He has not messaged in a while, not in a substantial way.  If you scroll back on your phone, you can see the disintegration of communication, the days when he would send message after message with any and every thought slowly petering down to brief replies and a vague acknowledgement at the very best. 

This message is more.  You can hear his voice when you read it, can picture those dark eyes. 

Tell me this isn’t real.  Please. 

You feel sick.  You are angry at him for being the one to withdraw only to suddenly turn on his heel.  You are angry at yourself for reacting so drastically and immaturely.   Mostly, you are just sad. 

If I did something, I’m sorry, he writes.  I’ll never stop being sorry.  I’ll fix it.  I’ll keep my distance.  Just don’t say I can never see you again. 

You type a reply, then delete it, then repeat.  

You say nothing. Every time you try, you see him and her in that corridor, you see him flinching from your touch, you see him recoiling at your scent.  It twists and tangles with memories of warm nights and tender smiles.  You wipe your tears and remember when he did it for you, his thumb so gently sweeping your cheek.  He used to touch you like you were precious to him.  Now he flinches from your touch.    

He does not text the next day, or the day after, or the day after that.   You are not sure if it is better or worse. 

After about a week, he messages again, stating, I miss you.   

You are at your work desk but he immediately seizes your full attention, as he always has. 

You stare at your phone.  You take a breath.   You have had a few days to decompress, to let the wound bleed.  It is still sore to the touch. 

You write, I miss you too. 

You do not check your phone for a while, listening to the relentless buzz as he sends eager message after eager message.  It feels like the old days for a minute, but slows to a stop when you do not reply.  You read them back later, his pleading, his sweetness.  It makes you spiral, on the one hand wanting to take it all back, but on the other hand picturing his flinch, his disgust, knowing it is only a matter of time before your heart breaks again. 

You do not reply.  He takes the hint and gives you a few more days, then he messages, I still have your stuff in my place too, you know? 

I know, is all you say.  I have more of your stuff too.

As predicted, you have been finding his things all over the apartment.   Even things which are technically yours are still stamped with his memory.  He helped you move into this place after the break-up.  He took you shopping and paid for so many things to get you back on your feet.  Everything from blankets to cushions to plates make you think of him.   This was just a room before he made it a home.  Without him, it is just a room again. 

There are a couple days of silence, then some of his packmates start messaging you.  You don’t think he is sending them after you, as Felix would never manipulate or coerce you like that.  They reach out of their own volition, curious because they have not seen you in a while.  But it is all so overwhelming, so you throw your phone under a pillow and go for a walk.

That is when you run into Changbin again.   His smile is charming as ever when he strikes up a friendly conversation.   

“I was wondering,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, not-so-inadvertently flexing his big bicep when he does, “I was going to ask a couple weeks ago, when I helped you with that box – ah, I was kicking myself after because I didn’t see you for a while.  But – I thought we had a nice conversation.  Maybe you and me could do something.”

“Do something,” you repeat.  It sounds like he is asking you out which is a little perplexing, because he is a werewolf and you are a human.  Surely nothing serious can come of it.  You used to think it was possible, as there are plenty of movies and romance novels to prove it, but your personal experience has led you to other conclusions.    

“A date,” he clarifies, grinning that handsome smile.  “You and me.  My treat.  No pressure.  I just think you’re clever and, ah, very beautiful, and I want to know you better.” 

A polite rejection is on the tip of your tongue.  You are not in any emotional state to try dating someone right now.   But you think of Felix and that woman in the corridor, and you think of your phone buzzing, and you think of another long, lonely night stewing in it all.   

Changbin must be looking for something casual anyway.  A werewolf would not truly settle down with a human.  Maybe this is a good opportunity to put yourself out there. 

“Sure,” you say.  “I’d like that.” 

Changbin takes you out a few days later.  You actually do enjoy yourself.  He is very charming and it is easy to talk to him, plus the date itself is very fun.  He takes you out for food then to an arcade, flopping at every game in a hilarious spectacle.  

“I’m a werewolf,” he complains later.  “I’m strong!  Those games were rigged.” 

You giggle, wrapping yourself up in the jacket he leant you.  You are walking back to the apartment building, the warm evening giving way to a cool night as you make the trek.   It is enjoyable until you reach the building, at which point you start to panic.  Does he expect to be invited into your apartment?  Does he expect… more?  The thought leaves you dizzy and not in a good way.  Changbin is so very handsome and so very likable.  Going out with him showed you that you can enjoy yourself without the crutch of a lifelong friendship. 

You don’t need Felix. 

But you still want him. 

You try to go back and find the moment it all went wrong, try to picture a different ending, but it feels impossible.  A foolish fantasy from a girl still clinging to the dying dredges of hope and affection.  There is a wonderful, handsome man at your side, a werewolf at that, and your mind is somewhere else. 

Changbin remarks on it, politely but nonetheless curiously.  He gives you a penetrating look, like he knows something is wrong and there is no use lying. 

You sigh. 

“I’m sorry,” you say.  “I just… I recently broke-up with a friend.”

“With a friend?” he asks, eyebrows jumping with surprise.  “What kind of friend?”

“A close one, very close,” you say.  “We’ve known each other forever, you see.  He’s the most wonderful person I have ever known.  He’s good to everyone, open-hearted, kind, warm.  I have truly never known a better man.  He just makes every room a little brighter when he’s in it.  You would like him, I think.  Everyone does.  He’s a werewolf but the transformation only happened for the first time this year.  Since then…”  You sniffle.  “Things have been different.  Werewolves are biologically wired to be with other werewolves and form packs… I think my human status just started affecting him negatively.”

“Biology,” Changbin says like it is a foreign word.  He looks at you with a cocked eyebrow.  “It exists, yeah, but werewolves still have hearts, you know?  It’s nice finding other werewolves so you aren’t alone, but it isn’t necessary.  Love is complicated.” 

That does give you pause for a moment.  A logical part of you knows it is true, that plenty of werewolves make relationships work with humans, but that is almost harder to accept.  If it’s just biological, then it cannot be helped.  But if it’s a choice—

“So he isn’t biologically wired to hate me now that he’s a werewolf,” you say miserably.  “It’s just something he chose to do.”

“Now, I didn’t say that,” Changbin says.  “But, if that is what happened, he’s an idiot.  If you were that obviously in love with me, ah, I wouldn’t let you go that easy.” 

“I’m not in love with him…”  The lie tumbles without an ounce of confidence.   Changbin just gives you an amused look.  Embarrassed, you drop your gaze.  “It doesn’t matter,” you say.  “He doesn’t feel the same way.  Believe me, I know how he’s been looking at me, or how he won’t. That’s why I walked away.  I was holding onto a friendship that once was and a fantasy that will never be.  It’s time to be reasonable.”

“Ah, I don’t think love is very reasonable,” he says.  “But you should stay true to yourself and do what’s right.  And, in the mean time, if you need a friend…”

You exchange smiles.  A weight lifts off your shoulder as Changbin changes the subject to friendship between you.

“I would like a friend,” you say.  “Thank you, Changbin.” 

“Ah, it’s been fun.  But give me back my jacket,” he teases.  “Since we’re friends I don’t need to impress you.  I’m cold.” 

 “I thought werewolves run hot,” you say, laughing.  You shrug off the coat and hand it to him. 

“Eh, a little bit, maybe more than humans.  But the blood really only gets hot during a rut cycle,” he says.

It is a casual statement.  He is too preoccupied with zipping up his jacket to notice you get a little flustered. 

You know a bit about ruts, namely that werewolves have a cycle which span a few days every month.  It’s a fertility and reproduction thing, pushing developed werewolves to find mates and, well, mate them.   It is a common part of the werewolf lifestyle so it is fair for Changbin to so casually mention it. 

It is not because of Changbin that you feel flustered.  You are thinking about Felix that night at the club, how burning hot he was compared to everyone else.  Now that you think of it, not even Chan felt so hot when he grabbed your wrist, nor Seungmin beside you in the car.  Felix, though, was radiating heat.  Was he starting a rut cycle?  Perhaps that explains why he was so hot and sweaty the next day during your confrontation. 

You remember the other werewolf in the corridor.  Your heart sinks again.  Was she helping him through his rut?  Then again, she left the second you arrived.  Why were they even in the hallway?  If she was spending his rut with him, surely they would have been inside together, not yapping in the hallway... 

“You look worried,” Changbin says. 

You are gnawing your bottom lip, eyes darting around as you contemplate that day.  At his words, you blink to attention, doing your best to shake the anxiety. 

“It’s nothing,” you say.  “I’m just confused about so many things right now.” 

“You know, if this guy really is so great and wonderful – and I think he is, if someone like you loves him so much – then he will probably be happy to answer your questions so you don’t feel so confused.” 

“Ugh.”  You slap a hand over your eyes and shake your head.  “Why do you have to be so decent and mentally competent and right?” 

“Jutdae,” he says, then flexes an arm and squeezes a bicep through the jacket.  “And lots of protein.”

You laugh again.  With a few more words of thanks and a promise to catch up again soon, you give him one final good night hug.  He says he might meet up with some friends so you part ways, Changbin strolling while you head inside. 

You look at your phone, considering his words as you ride the elevator to your floor.  Changbin is right.  Giving Felix the silent treatment is not helping you or him.  Even though the conversation will probably be uncomfortable in so many ways, you should talk to him.  It might not repair anything, but at least you will have closure.  That wound cannot heal so long as it is still bleeding and festering. 

You are drafting a text message in your head when you step off the elevator. 

Then you lift your eyes and stumble to a stop. 

Felix is sitting outside your apartment door.  He is wearing jeans and a blue flannel, a denim jacket on top of that.  A habitual joke is on the tip of your tongue, seeing him so decked out in his favourite colour.  It disappears at the morose look on his face.   

His long blonde hair is down around his shoulders, neglected black roots peeking at the crown of his head.  He looks a little wan and very tired, his head lolled to the side. 

He scents you before he sees you, eyes fluttering closed for a second, then he looks at you. 

He really looks at you. 

Felix always has such a softness in his gaze, but this look is searing.  It moves through you, a forceful heat twining its way around your insides.  It holds you in captivated thrall as he stands, one black boot thumping against the ground with the force of his push as he straightens himself out. 

That piercing looks crinkles as more of your scent registers to him.  His face twists with revulsion, except it is even more severe than usual.  It is so disturbed that it makes you think his past expressions were not disgust at all, because this face is so terrorized by whatever he smells. 

“Where were you?” he asks. 

You have been staring at each other in silence for so long that his voice reverberates loudly in the corridor.   It makes you jump as the smoothness of his deep voice pours into you.  It’s only been a few weeks since you last heard him speak, but somehow you forgot how profoundly that voice could affect you, especially when he drops it so deliberately. 

“Out,” you say.  You are so flustered that your body goes into defense mode, your tone sharp when you say, “I don’t need your permission for that.”   

That softens the slash of his gaze.  He shakes his head. 

“No,” he says softly.  “Of course not.  I’m sorry.”   

His apology is so sincere, eyes searching yours for something beyond the surface.  You feel like he is speaking to you without words, somehow conveying a lifetime of love in the way he looks at you, saying, it’s me.

You soften too, in every way, your voice and your posture, your heart and everything inside you.  So soft and malleable, all that heat expanding in every direction until you can imagine yourself radiating it like he did.  It feels so inappropriate to be aroused when there is so much drama between you, when a serious conversation needs to be had.  But he is looking at you so intensely, colours of emotions playing across his face.  A shaking breath draws your gaze to his lips. 

He says your name.  It feels like a touch.  You feel dizzy again, this time in a very good way, despite yourself.   

You hear his sharp intake of breath as you step a little closer.  Your scent is affecting him.  It makes him do a double-take, looking at you up and down without any subtlety.  It is blatant, searching.  For lack of a better word, predatory, a wolf on the prowl, scenting something it wants, maybe needs.   Your skirt is long, sweeping past your knees, but you feel like he can see past it somehow. 

His eyes, low on your body, flick up to your face.  Your knees knock.  That hungry look twists into something repulsed again, his brow furrowing.  It darkens his whole face.    

Of course.  He is disgusted with you and your boring human scent and he always has been.  You cannot give into hopeful delusions. 

“What are you doing here?” you ask in your most casual tone, striding up to him like you are unaffected by his presence. 

He steps to the side, staring while you fumble around in your purse for your keys. 

“I wanted to talk,” he says. 

You stare into your bag, rifling through mint wrappers and lipsticks and bus tickets.  You can feel his eyes, practically burning a hole in the side of your head.   You want to be chill, want to laugh and tell him he’s acting weird, to knock it off.  You want to be indifferent, remind him there is a distance between you now and his staring is not appropriate. 

Then he puts a hand on the door, near your head.  He moves around you, undeniably scenting you as he goes.  His other hand comes around the other side, caging you between him and the door.  Your back is to him but you can still feel his gaze, shivering when he breathes you in.  

You swallow, cringing at the wave of arousal that moves through you when his nose brushes the back of your neck. 

Werewolf instincts, you remind yourself, trying to find the resolve to snap him out of it, except that’s not what you want.  You want him to press right against you and put his mouth on your neck, to taste everything he is scenting. 

Until you remember he hates the scent.  So much so, he makes a guttural noise that sounds like a growl, rumbling at the base of his throat. 

You expect him to flinch and move away.  You imagine him shaking his head as he abandons his efforts to reconcile because you’re just not worth it. 

You are not expecting him to say, “Why do you smell like another werewolf?” 

“What?” you say.  “I – I don’t—”

“Yes, you do,” he says, taking another deep breath.  “It’s all over you.  Who is he?” 

Oh, you have been wearing Changbin’s jacket for the last half-hour.  You did not notice any smell but you are not a werewolf.   To Felix, you must be utterly smothered in it.   You wonder if it smells like a sex pheromone, given Changbin was taking you on a date, maybe permeating a desire your human senses did not notice. 

Whatever it is, it has Felix riled in a way you have never seen before.  He has been very careful to hold himself in check around you.  The worst of his werewolf symptoms have been hidden from the start.   It is part of why you are so hurt, that he would not trust you with it. 

Now it overrides his good sense.  His nose swipes the back of your neck again, his fingers curling against the door where his hands sit. 

“He’s just a friend,” you say. 

“A friend,” he repeats.  “He doesn’t smell like a friend.” 

“Well, he is,” you say.  All your desire, heartbreak, and desperation swell inside you, bursting like a firework, hot and crackling.  With a pounding heart, you turn around to face him, intent on confrontation when you snap, “Why would that even matter to you?” 

You look into his eyes.  He is so close, arms around you, that woodsy scent enveloping you.  It feels like coming home, falling into his gaze, letting the heat wash over you as he stares back.  There is something animalistic about his intensity, a predator with its hackles raised, sights set and hunger striking.    

“Felix,” you whisper, voice heavy with a thousand questions that never manifest. 

One hand leaves the door.  He grabs the back of your neck, not roughly, not cruelly, but with an undoubted and irrevocable command.  It makes another firework burst inside you.  You gasp. 

That gasp is interrupted when he dives in without any hesitation, his mouth thoroughly claiming yours in a hot, desperate kiss. 

Whenever you dared to fantasize a kiss with Felix, it was always soft, a little brief, giving it time to grow.  You never imagined so much heat overwhelming you all at once, that his mouth would be so ravishing.  You didn’t even know a kiss could move through your whole body, that when he puts his tongue in your mouth it would feel like he is already fucking you, your body throbbing with want. 

It is not just werewolf instinct because you react too.  You drop your purse on the floor and put your hands on him, one on his chest and the other his neck, clinging to him like he clings to you.  He takes it as invitation, his other hand leaving the door to hold your waist.  His grip is powerful, but despite the supernatural strength it does not hurt.  No, Felix would never hurt you.  Oh, it was so stupid to think he ever would. 

He makes a sound that has you whimpering in turn, the low grunt pressing at your most vulnerable places.  The kiss is open-mouthed, hot and wet and messy. 

He walks you back that final step, pressing you to the door.  He cups the back of your head so you don’t hit it.

You grab the collar of his denim jacket and yank on it, pulling him even closer.  You are completely delirious with him. Everything that has happened and everything that will happen is wholly unimportant as he slots his whole body along yours. 

His leg pushes between your thighs, his hips pinning you to the door.  The thought would have you terrified a year ago, but now it just feels right.  Of course it feels right, because this is Felix, who has seen you at your most vulnerable and healed you, who has caught you every time you fall.  He will always fix what hurts.  He will always take care of you. 

Your body knows it, begging for him, hips rearing towards him.  It presses his thigh against the juncture between your legs, makes it so your flimsy skirt doesn’t matter at all.  You are not thinking when you start to rock against him. 

You forgot your body could feel so much pleasure. 

“Oh, fuck—” he says, his already deep voice somehow even lower as he curses.  

You squeak as he holds you against the door, deliberately rocking his thigh between yours with more pressure and speed than you could manage.  It makes a torrent of mortifying sounds spill past your lips, but he gathers them all up lovingly, tastes them on his tongue as he chases down your gasping breath.  Every little mewl, every breath, every squeaking hiccup is swallowed up by him. 

“Come for me, please,” he whispers, roughly.  It sounds like begging despite how much physical power he has over you.  It would scare if it was someone else, but that supernatural strength doesn’t matter because it bends to you, waiting for your permission.

You just barely remember you are in the corridor.  You hope no one chooses now to step out of their apartment.  You wonder if the other werewolves on the floor can scent whatever pheromones Felix must be giving off. 

It doesn’t matter.  You’re hurtling towards an orgasm and you can’t stop it.  You’re going to come on him, just like this, fully clothed but so wet that you can feel it gushing as he grinds his thigh against you. 

You grab onto his belt, feeling the curve of his bulge just below your palm.  It makes his breath stutter and it makes you surrender.  Your body seizes and your pussy throbs as you come, a strangled cry in your throat while rocking desperately against him.   

It settles slowly, the world coming back in increments.  You are breathing hard, clinging to each other, bodies still pressed so tightly together.  You can feel his heart beating hard and fast.  It keeps rhythm with the lingering thrum below. 

So much for conversation.  Grinding all over Felix in a semi-public space was not in the plan at all. 

“Oh my god,” you say, voice breaking as you are hit with realization.  You push at him and he goes obediently. 

“Fuck,” he says, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head.  He runs his hands through his hair, shakes out the length of it while breathing erratically. 

Your heart is still pounding.  You put your hand over your chest like that will calm it down. 

Felix looks at you.

You recognize this look. 

This look – this is the face you have been mistaking for disgust.  Now that you have seen him truly reviled, snarling at Changbin’s scent on your body, you realize it is not disgust, not at all.  It’s pain, a wincing, cringing desperation as he fights to keep everything inside him. 

It is barely contained right now, his chest still heaving, his fly still bulging, hands shaking at his sides as he stares at you with open need. 

“Oh my god,” you say again.  You lean against the door for support, closing your eyes to try and make sense of the world.  You see the events of the last month play out, the months before that, going back further and further until you shake your head to clear your mind.  “I just—”  You open your eyes, meet his anxious gaze.  “Just give me some time,” you say.  “I – I need to think – I’m so—”

“It’s okay,” he says, hands out to placate you, but careful not to touch you.  He forces himself to smile despite his own emotional tumult.  Sweat breaks out on his hairline.  “Take your time, I – I’m sorry, I didn’t come here to—I just wanted to talk—I—”

“I know,” you say.  “I know.” 

He nods sharply, clearing his throat as he turns awkwardly to the side.  He points vaguely behind him, stutters something like, “I’ll go, um, I’ll just—”

He turns on his heel and walks away, taking the corner to the stairwell so fast that you blink and he is gone. 

You can hear him bounding down the stairs.  You stand there, listening until he is too far to hear. 

With every limb shaking, you pick up your purse and finally fish out your keys.  You manage to turn the key in the lock and step inside before you crumple to your knees. 

This time your thoughts are a very different whirlwind, just as confused and just as emotional, but so conquered by sensation that you find yourself just sitting there, touching your lips, thinking of him.

There is a lot to think about.

-

You realize you have been wrong about so many things.  You and Felix should have spoken a long time ago.  You have both been skirting each other, tentatively regarding the other, worried you might hurt them.  It resulted in you both getting hurt anyway.   

You are so, so scared of making that hurt worse.  It makes you hesitate. 

A day goes by.  Felix respects your space.  On the second day, when you contemplate reaching out for a conversation – a real conversation – your phone buzzes. 

You are surprised to see that it is Bang Chan. 

Hey, he writes.  I need to talk to you right now.  It’s about Felix. 

Your heart-rate shoots through the roof, terror obliterating every other emotion.

Is he okay? you write.  What happened??

Look, I’m just gonna say it, Chan writes.  Felix is in rut.  You know what that is? 

Yes, you say. 

At first, you are relieved he is not hurt and it is something so mundane.  Then you are flustered as you recall the other night.  You remember the heat between you, the way you came on his body and the way he begged for it.   Even now, you are more aroused than embarrassed, shivering as you remember the way he looked at you. 

Right, Chan says.  Look I promise I’m not asking you to sleep with him or something.  I wouldn’t do that.  You have no responsibility for anything.   But you also gotta know that dumb kid is in love with you, right?  Like… insane in love.  Like… won’t let anyone else see him or help him even though he’s a new werewolf, hasn’t had that many ruts, and it hasn’t even been a whole month since the last one. 

You watch as each text appears, your adrenaline building with every word.  The phone shakes in your tight grip.

Didn’t someone help him with his last rut? You ask.  I saw her at his apartment.   

What??? Chan answers quickly.  No.  I sent her over to see if he needed anything, because he kept telling me to fuck off because I was telling him to call you.  I’m telling him again but he still won’t listen.  You know he thinks he’s a monster right? 

You are still reeling from the revelation that he and the girl were not an item at all, that they were truly just having a conversation.  He was flushed and sweaty because he was in rut, not because he spent all morning with her.  You were the one racing to conclusions, not even giving him a chance to explain.  You remember him stepping towards you, asking to speak, but you cut him off before he could.  You assumed he just wanted to reject you. 

Chan says Felix is in love you.  Is it possible that after a conversation with another wolf, he was gathering the courage to tell you, only for you to say you never wanted to see him again? 

Now you read the last message and your heart sinks, a painfully heavy weight in your gut.     

A monster? you write.  What do you mean? 

That doesn’t even make sense.  Felix is the kindest, most loving man you know.  Assuming werewolves are monstrous is such a medieval thought that it never occurred to you for a second that he would feel that way. 

Yeah, Chan says.  Look, he never told me the details because he said it wasn’t his story to tell, but he told me that you went through something really hard and that was why he didn’t want to stress you out with the werewolf thing. It can be pretty intense, especially at the start, and especially when you’re already an adult.  He spent his whole life thinking he was one thing only for everything to change really quickly.  He was really scared of coming on too strong and losing you because of it.   

You made his worst fears come true, you realize, numb as you stare at the screen. 

You know Felix, Chan writes, He’d rather just suffer alone than have someone else feel it too.  I told him to trust you more, that you would want to help, but there’s no getting through to him when he’s like that.  I love the guy but he can be kinda stubborn.

You both have a stubborn streak.  The last month of drama attests to that. 

What do you want me to do?  you ask.  You have more answers but you feel just as lost as before, maybe even more. 

Can you just talk to him please?  Chan says.  He holed himself up in his apartment and he won’t let anyone in.  He stopped answering my messages too.  Ruts are a Molotov cocktail of hormones.  They’re intense even if you’re experienced and he isn’t.  I just don’t want him to get hurt and not do anything about it because he doesn’t want to bother anyone. 

You remember Felix in that corridor, arms hanging limp at his sides, looking at you with so much hurt and sorrow.  Despite that, he didn’t pressure you to stay.  He listened.  He let you go because he thought you wanted that.  He stood by himself in that corridor, crying over a box of his things that he thought had a home with you. 

Tears blur your vision.  You have to rub your eyes before answering Chan. 

I’ll go to him, you write.  I don’t want him hurt either.

I know you don’t, Chan says.  You have a spare key to his place?

Yes.

Good, Chan says.  He’s not answering his door so you’re gonna need it.  Give the guy a smack for me, hey? 

His joke makes you laugh, though it is strained. You give yourself a second to compose yourself then you are on your feet.  You are in a loose house dress and tights, face bare and hair undone, but you do not waste another second.  You know you can be yourself around Felix no matter what.  You wish he understood the feeling was reciprocated.

This time, instead of running away, you run to him.  This time, you will make him understand. 

-

The two city blocks pass in a blur.  You have never moved so fast in all your life, bumping into slow stragglers as you barrel down the street. 

By the time you step off the elevator on his floor, you are warm and out of breath.  You wipe a little perspiration off your forehead as you approach. 

You were so frantic in your determination to arrive, there was no time for nerves to materialize.  They strike all at once, twisting anxiously as you knock.   You wait a minute but he doesn’t answer, just like Chan predicted.

You take a steadying breath and put the key in the lock.  Hand over your heart, you push open the door and step into the apartment.   

It does not look any different from the last time you were here.  Even your slippers are still by the door.  You disregard them now, stepping out of your shoes and venturing forward with a nervous little patter. 

If you were a werewolf, maybe you would have scented a change in the air, but it smells and feels familiar.  The apartment is very still, maybe a little warmer than usual, sunlight streaming through the windows. 

You finally hear a sound.  You leave the small foyer and make a very clumsy entrance into the room. 

You can hardly blame yourself for stumbling.  Felix is sitting on the couch in nothing but a pair of jeans.  It looks like the same blue jeans from the other night.  Yes, in fact, you are sure they are because you can see the faintest streak on his thigh.  You were embarrassed to find you were so wet that it came through your panties and skirt.  You wondered if it got on him. 

You certainly have an answer now.  

Felix is touching himself.  He is slouched back on the couch, his bare chest damp with sweat, his knees spread apart.  His jeans are pulled open and it looks roughly torn, the zipper snapped off the fly.  His hand is wrapped around his cock.  One of your t-shirts is clutched tightly in the other hand.  He is holding it against his face, covering his eyes, mouth, and nose.  He is clearly chasing the scent, knuckles whitening with how tightly he grips it.     

His abdomen clenches as he approaches a climax.  You watch as he quickly wraps the t-shirt around his cock, fucking the material.  His eyes are closed, head thrown back. 

You snap to the realization that he has no idea you’re here, so overwhelmed with your scent from the shirt.

You quickly cover your eyes with both hands and yelp his name. 

His reply is a startled yelp as well.  You peek at him through your fingers, watching as he frantically stuffs the t-shirt between the couch cushions.  He tries to stand at the same time, fighting to close his pants over an uncooperative erection that does not seem to be going down. 

“Fuck, sorry, I – hold on, fuck – I can explain—” he stammers. 

“Um, me too,” you say.    

He can’t get his pants closed but he gets himself tucked back inside.  He keeps a grip on the fly with one hand, the other running through his long hair. 

Then he is standing there, flushed and out of breath.  You slowly lower your fingers from your face. 

There is a moment of silence, both of you startled.  After a bit of staring, he cracks a nervous smile.  You tentatively return it. 

His brow smooths out, his dimple poking into his cheek.  He chuckles first, then you laugh, then you are laughing together.  It feels good, letting out all the ridiculous tension. 

“Why, uhh, why are you here?” he finally asks. 

“Um, Chan texted,” you say. 

“Oh, for the love of—”  He cuts off his own tirade, shaking his head and exhaling heavily. 

You twist your hands together, fingers budging in a nervous fidget. 

“Um, he told me… he told me…”  You forget your precise words because Felix meets your eyes, holding your gaze in his.  You lose yourself in the depth of his dark eyes.  You think your heart is beating loud enough to hear.  

You look away, overwhelmed by the intensity of his stare.  Your eyes stray to the couch, to your t-shirt poking out between the cushions.  You are startled by a jolt between your legs, like a lightning bolt of arousal, the previous scene suddenly resonating with clarity. 

“I—”  You almost choke on your words, so much nervousness, so much fear, so much need in your voice.  You meet his searching eyes, stepping forward as if compelled by them.  “I thought my scent disgusted you.” 

He blinks back at you, your words taking a moment to settle.  Then he furrows his brow and tilts his head.  A bit of hair falls forward and he tucks it back. 

“Uhhhh, what?” he asks.  “Dis—disgusted me?  You thought—”  He looks back at the couch too.  He is very flushed, his rut no doubt keeping him suspended on a perpetual edge, and his ears darken with a richer tinge of red.  “Um.  No.”  He laughs at the ridiculousness, looking at you with wide, blinking eyes.  “I, uh, I definitely don’t – I think you – I mean—”

“Um, yes,” you say, clasping your hands together again.  You rock a little on the balls of your feet.  “Yes.  I can see that, um, I think you’re not disgusted.”

“No,” it comes out on a breath.  His eyes drop from your face down your body.  You look so simple, but he looks at you like no one has ever been more beautiful.   “No, I’m not disgusted.  Why did you think that?”

“You, um, you make faces sometimes,” you say.  It sounds so petty and silly to say out loud, but it’s time to get it all out there.  “And you’ve been so distant, Felix.  I thought that maybe, now that you’re a werewolf, you didn’t want anything more to do with me.” 

His face scrunches up with bewilderment. 

“Nothing – nothing to do with you?” he asks, voice breaking where it pitches up.  It would usually make you laugh, but now is not the time as you stare back, all your insecurities and vulnerabilities on display.  He does not laugh at them either, taking a small step towards you with a tender look on his face.  “I could never feel that way,” he says.  “You’re my whole world. I – I’ve told you that.  You’re my – you’re my person.”

“Chan said you felt like a monster,” you say softly.  “I wish you would have told me how you felt.  I could have told you that you aren’t a monster, not at all.   You’re my person too, you know.” 

He exhales, shoulders deflating.  He rubs the bridge of his nose, thinking of something to say.  Eventually he shakes his head and drops his hand. 

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” he says.  “You’ve been through so much.  I couldn’t – I couldn’t ask you to take care of me too.”

“Felix,” you say, throat cloying with emotion.  You take a step closer as well.  “Felix, you’re not a burden.  I wanted so badly to take care of you.  I – I love you.”

The word love resonates like thunder.  It pierces the air, leaves a ringing aftermath. 

“You – you love me,” Felix says, like the words are incomprehensible.  “As a – as a friend – or?”  He tries to look disinterested but completely fails, staring at you with all that intensity again. 

You combat the instinct to make yourself small, to hide your vulnerabilities, to retreat into denial and just smile prettily.  You hold his gaze.  When you smile, it is honest and affectionate. 

“I love you, Felix,” you say.  “As more than a friend.  As everything.” 

“Oh,” he says.  His hand goes back into his hair, untucking it from behind his ear just to tuck it back again.  His eyes dart everywhere like he is replaying the scene and scanning it for answers.  He blinks at you.  “Oh.” 

“Yeah,” you say, with a small laugh. 

“But you – you never wanted to see me again,” he says, then lifts his brows, expression all at once understanding.  “Because you thought I didn’t want you.  Oh my god.  I’m such an idiot.”

“I’m not the brightest either,” you tease.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, closing the distance yet again with another step.  He forgets the state of his clothes and lets go of his pants, too wrapped up in his words to notice the startled drop of your eyes.  Not much is exposed, just the shape of his hips and a stubborn bulge, but it still leaves you sweating. 

“Look,” he says.  “I – I can’t just say I love you.”  Before your heart can sink, he continues frantically, “Because it’s not enough.  I do, I do love you.  The werewolf gene activated for you.  The doctors asked if I had been in any dangerous situations that might have triggered it and I said no.  They – they said it sometimes activates in peril, when you feel the need to protect yourself.  That’s what happened to me.  Except it wasn’t because I wanted to protect myself.  I wanted to protect you.”

“Me?” you say in a small voice, like you can hardly believe it.

“Yes,” he says, smiling, both hands moving as he talks.  “I felt so helpless, watching the way you were hurting.  I wanted to protect you.  I never wanted to see you suffering again.  I tried to be calm around you but pushing it down just made the feeling more desperate.  My wolf, it’s like my heart.  It’s just an animal, you know?  And it only understands loyalty and love.  And the first time I changed, I didn’t think like a person, no, but I thought of you all the same.  They could barely keep me contained in that hospital.  I just wanted to run to you. I wanted to protect you.  I wanted to keep you safe. Staying away from you… it’s been killing me.”

“Me too,” you say, so filled to brim with emotion you think you might burst.  “Oh, Felix, me too.” 

A laugh spills out of him, more of a release than humour.  You take another step towards each other, this time close enough to clasp hands between you. 

“I wish you would have told me,” you say.  “But it’s my fault too.  I know I’m still recovering in some ways.  I’m quick to think little of myself.  But I shouldn’t put you in the role of the mean voices in my head.  I’m sorry too.  So, so sorry.” 

“How could you think I’d ever be disgusted with you?” he asks in a low voice. 

When he cups your cheek, a shiver moves down your spine.  You straighten, leaning into his touch, looking at him with wanting eyes.  He swallows hard, staring back. 

“It was silly,” you say.  “I even thought you were seeing someone else.  That werewolf lady in your pack.  I thought maybe you wanted a werewolf mate and I wouldn’t be enough.” 

“That’s crazy,” he says.  “You’re my everything.” 

“And you’re mine,” you say.  

You touch his arm, just the lightest caress of your fingertips.  His skin is so hot it makes you gasp.  Your cool fingers must be a balm because his eyes close and a little sigh parts his lips. 

“Uh,” he breathes, eyes still closed.  “Sorry for what you, uh, saw, coming in—  I promise I don’t usually – ruts are just—”

You step a little closer.  You can feel his breath on your cheek when he breathes in and out. 

His hands drop to his sides as you lean in and kiss his neck.  It is just a chaste touch but it makes his eyes fly open.  He looks at you and you swear his eyes have never been so dark.   

“You want me,” he says.  When you nod, he releases another deep breath, a massive exhale of relief.  “Ruts are… intense,” he says. 

“Mm,” is your gentle reply.  Your eyes run down his bare skin, fingers itching to touch.  You meet his gaze.  “But it’s you, right?” 

Some romances depict ruts as an out of control haze.�� Though Felix is certainly more intense, it is your best friend’s familiar eyes locked on yours.  You realize it actually makes him the vulnerable one, all his desires so blatant, his needs on the surface, unable to hide them for a second.  You understand why he held back, especially while you were in recovery.   There is so much of him. 

But that is what you love.  You can never have enough. 

“Yes,” he says.

His deep voice is so rough that it makes you whimper.  His hand jumps at the sound, settles on the back of your neck like it did yesterday.  Anticipation tingles from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes, every inch of your body aware of him, desperate for him. 

“Yes,” he says again, staring at your mouth.  “Yes, it’s me.” 

Your breath catches when he squeezes your nape.  In the back of your mind, you recall all those little courtship rituals of werewolves, the instincts that manifest between them and their mate.  A gentle squeeze of the nape is a request for your submission, for you to put your trust in his strength and his affection.  

You do, utterly.  You rest your hands on his waist, your cool palms against his hot skin, making his eyes flash with hunger. 

“What are you waiting for?” you ask, his mouth so close, kissing a tantalizing promise.  

He smiles that real smile, eyes crinkling sweetly, sunshine radiating with all that heat. 

“I told you, ruts can be intense,” he says.  “I’m waiting for your permission to let me have my way with you.”

“You have it,” you say.  Your eyes drop to his chest and you run your hand from his collarbone all the way down to his abdomen, watching the muscles tense under the caress of your fingers. 

You smile at him, swiping at his hot skin with your fingertips as you step back.  He lets you go, hands dropping to his sides.  He moves when you do, like his whole body is tethered to yours, magnetized to your core.  Each step you take, he follows with a fixated prowl. 

“Do whatever you want with me,” you say, peeling down a strap of your dress.  “I’m yours.” 

His steps gain speed, his smile brightening.  In a matter of seconds, he is chasing you into his bedroom, laughing behind your trail of giggles as you scamper ahead of him. 

He catches you around the waist inside the bedroom, pulling your backside into his front.   The straps of your dress are both lowered and you hold it to your chest with your hand, heart pounding from excitement and the little chase. 

You make a sweet sound when his nose swipes your neck.  You tip your head, offering more skin.  It is a good thing his grip is so strong, because you tremble when he exhales, breath caressing your skin.  He gathers your dress in his hands, plucking the fabric out of your grip.  He pushes it down your body and it puddles on the floor. 

“Felix,” you say on a sigh when he kisses the back of your neck while working his fingers under your bra.  You help remove it, dropping it onto the floor.  You rock back against him when he touches you.  He uses both hands to cup your breasts and squeeze. 

“Can’t believe you thought I was disgusted,” he says.  “Like I didn’t spend my whole last rut in here thinking about you.” 

“Y-you did?” you ask, with a little whimper, because his open jeans are not doing much to shield him and you can feel how hard he is against you.  

“Yes,” he says, a hand coming up to circle your throat, gripping it possessively as he puts his teeth in your neck.  It makes you jump in his arms, body shaking. 

He holds you tight against him, the denim of his pants rough through the thin fabric of your tights. 

“I’m sorry for all that,” you rasp.  “I must have made it so hard for you.”

“Mm,” he says, grinning against your neck.  “You made it very hard.”

“Pfft.”  You slap a hand over your mouth when laughing.  “That was a terrible joke.”

“Mm. True though.” 

You squeak when he nudges you forward, so close to the bed that you stumble right onto it.   He climbs up behind you, grabbing your hips and flipping you onto your back. 

“At first, I was just sad,” he says. 

He leans back to grab something off his bedside table.  You admire the length of his body as he does, the low-slung jeans, the sheen of sweat across his chest, and his subtle, slender musculature.  

You meet his gaze when he comes back.  He is kneeling over you, a cocky grin on his face.  He gathers his hair and ties it with the band he just grabbed. 

“Then I really thought about it,” he says.  “Mm, yeah, thought about hunting you down.”  He straddles your thigh, his hands planting on either side of your head.  “I’d find you and I’d remind where you belong.”  He leans down, kissing along your jaw.  “With me.  Under me.  Moaning my name.  Forgetting about everything else.” 

“Did you—”  You start but gasp, his mouth on your throat, biting, sucking, licking.  You arch your back, leaning into his mouth as he works his way down your body.  “Did you… like with my shirt… when I saw you before…”

“What?  Did I get off to your scent?” he asks.  “Yes.”  His hand follows his mouth, fingers curling into the band of your tights.  “I told myself I shouldn’t.  The last few ruts I managed.  It wasn’t fun, mostly too hot, but I got by.  But – you weren’t coming back, were you?  You left so many pretty things here that made me think of you…”

He abruptly kneels upright.  He uses both hands to grab the waistband of your tights. 

“Found one of your cardigans,” he says.  “Soft, like you.  Put it on my pillow and fucked my hand like I wanted to fuck you.” 

He rips your tights open with little effort, tearing right down to the thigh. 

“Put it on my face,” he says.  “Tasted it.  Like I wanted to taste you.” 

You moan for him, threading your fingers through his hair as he gets between your legs and opens his mouth on your pussy.  He licks right through the material of your panties, like he doesn’t care at all, tormenting you with the obstruction until it is soaked through.   You say his name over and over, your thighs already shaking just from warming up. 

“Mmm.”  He pushes himself up again, his mouth wet, tongue sweeping over his lips.  He grabs your panties by the waistband and tugs them down. 

By now, his jeans have slid down his hips.  He is so hard, beading at the tip, as wet for you as you are for him.  You watch as he uses your panties to quickly jerk his cock, gathering the wetness at the tip, then tossing them over his shoulder. 

He falls back on top of you, face between your legs, licking you with nothing in his way. 

“Wanted to find you,” he says between teasing kitten licks, looking up at you, smirking with the flick of his tongue.  “Wanted to make you come so hard – mm, fuck you so good…”  He slips two fingers inside you.  Even though it has been some time, they move with no hindrance, your pussy so wet that he sinks right in. 

“Yeah,” he says, momentarily going cross-eyed with his face so close to your pussy, watching his fingers move in and out of you.  He grins when you clench around him.  “Show you we were meant to be,” he says.  “Just like this.”  He licks you again, fingers moving so quickly that it sounds as obscenely wet as it feels.  “Wolf or not.  Knew you were mine.  Was gonna make sure you know too.” 

“Ohh,” you say, tugging at the blankets beneath you.  “Who are you and what have you done with my sunshine Felix?” 

He laughs, a low chuckle, the vibrations moving in your pussy.

“Mm, I’m right here, sweetheart,” he says.  “Right… here…” 

Then his mouth is occupied, little licks replaced with broad strokes of his tongue, then a repeating pattern that has you swelling and gushing on his tongue.  You come so hard that it makes you dizzy, head thrown back as you squirt all over his thrusting fingers. 

“That’s it,” he says, kissing your wet thighs. 

While you are recovering, he grabs you and moves you.  He arranges you neatly in the middle of the bed, making sure you are comfortable.  Then he lets down his hair and removes his jeans.

“Felix,” you say, though it is generous to describe your voice as anything but a needy whimper.   

He runs his hands up and down your trembling thighs, coaxing you open with murmurs of sweet nothings.   You let him in, stringing your arms around his neck as he fits his hips between your legs and leans over you.   You feel the head of his cock against your pussy, still throbbing with aftershocks.  You are clenching around nothing, needing him, so ready you could scream. 

You don’t scream, but sigh, like you are relieved when he gets inside you, like this is what you have been missing all along.

He takes his time despite the fever of his rut.  Maybe because of it.  His senses are so heightened, the pleasure felt so strongly.  He groans, eyes closed, putting his face in your neck and breathing deeply as he slowly rocks into you. 

“What were you thinking,” he murmurs, lips moving on your throat, “Trying to run away from me?” 

“I’m – I’m sorry,” you say, interrupted with a hiccupping little uh-uh when he rolls his hips and you feel him deeper, harder, faster. 

“You thought I wanted someone else?” he asks.  “Impossible.” 

Your eyes are closed, head thrown back.  He grabs your chin and pulls your face to him, says, “Look at me.  Right now.” 

You do, blinking your eyes open.  His thumb rubs your bottom lip and you open your mouth.  You don’t even need to think, instantly accepting the intrusion of the digit, sucking on it while holding his gaze. 

It would have terrified you a year ago, with anyone else, losing yourself to instinct like that, opening yourself up so willingly.  With Felix, it feels right, it feels good. 

“It’s you and me,” he says.  “You understand that?”

You nod, humming affirmatively around his thumb.  It rubs over your tongue, opens your mouth a little more.   You want to close your eyes with every rolling thrust into you, but he tugs your face back to him when you try. 

“You’re my mate,” he says.  “Just you.  It’s always – always been you.”  He groans on the second always, picking up some speed, making you whine against his fingers.  

He is so hot, clearly in the grips of his rut fever, but you cling to him, accepting everything he has to offer. 

 “Gonna be mine,” he says.  “That’s right, yeah?”  You nod frantically.  “Yeah.  Gonna put a ring on your finger.  You’re gonna be so good to me, aren’t you?  Gonna let me take care of you.  Gonna be my mate.  Gonna have my children.  You and me.  Home.  Oh, yes, sweetheart, that’s it—”

You clench so tightly at the mention of children.  It catches you off guard, your body’s visceral and immediate response, faster than your brain compute can why.  You have told Felix you want children one day, in the future, back when you were just friends and it was an abstract thought.  Thinking of a home with him, having his children, making a whole life together, being bound so completely …

“Fuck,” you say, his thumb sliding out of your mouth.  He cups your face to keep it locked on him, your lips brushing each other. 

“Look at me,” he whispers. 

You do, though you are so close that you barely see him.  It feels like he is everywhere, everything, around you and inside you.  You melt when he kisses you, stealing your breath as he claims you so completely.  You kiss back, messy and haphazard, all heat and wetness, but it feels good.    

“C-can’t get pregnant,” you say with a pout, a bit delirious from getting fucked, letting the words roll thoughtlessly off your tongue.  “B-birth control.”

“I know,” he says.  He moves a little, gets up so he can hold your hips and pull you onto his cock with every thrust.  “I’m stronger,” he says, just as deliriously, watching where his cock moves inside you.  “Yeah.  Gonna fill you up so much, it’ll happen anyway.  It can’t stop me.” 

He holds your hips, keeps you in place.  He thrusts into you deeply and says, “You’re mine,” and thrusts again, “You’re mine,” and thrusts again, “You’re mine,” and comes inside you. 

It is not quite like all the werewolf pornography, with exaggerated knots on preposterously sized cocks, but werewolf physiology is still a little different than human.  That difference is exacerbated on a rut.  You feel it as he comes, the way he swells and gets harder, just enough that you feel your fullest as he releases.  Pushing at you walls, stretching you around him, making you his without question. 

He doesn’t really soften after, the rut sustaining him, but the swelling goes down.  Even then, not entirely, as you feel a sharper burn when he pulls out of you.  The flicker of pain is oddly tantalizing, a biting sensation on top of so many others.  It ripples through you, makes you moan. 

Your whole body is twitching, eyes closed as you come back to yourself. 

You look up at Felix.  His eyes are between your legs, his hand running up your thigh.  You feel his thumb spread your pussy open, feel his release spilling out of you.  That is the other different element; with a werewolf, there is a lot more of everything.  

Though you know your birth control will function regardless, when you feel all that inside you… for a moment, you believe he might be strong enough to overpower it. 

It makes you giddy, pleasure moving through your body.  He smiles at you, all sunshine and sweetness.   Then he takes control of your hips and puts himself back inside you.  The refractory period on a rut is virtually nonexistent on the peak day, which is usually the second day, which is today. 

“You okay?” he asks, rocking into you slowly even though he fits so easily now, your body made to take him. 

You nod, sliding your hands over his shoulders.  You scratch across his back then up in his hair, making him grunt and close his eyes.  He leans down and kisses you, continuing to fuck you until you are making all those sweet sounds again. 

“Good?” he asks, kissing your jaw, your neck. 

“Good,” you say. 

“Not too much?” he checks. 

“Mm, no,” you say.  You give him a teasing smile.  “Not enough actually.”

“Oh, really?”  He laughs, eyes big with playful incredulity.  “Should I growl and bite more?”  He makes a playful snarl like the werewolves in all the erotica. 

It makes you laugh.  You can’t remember the last time you laughed while having sex, but it feels so good, just as good as all the hot, desperate stuff.    

“Hmm, maybe not,” he says, laughing too.  “Maybe all the making-a-bitch stuff is a bit much, hm?” 

It seems you will learn more about yourself than him over this rut, because that also makes you clench involuntarily.  He blinks with surprise, mouth in a soft ‘o’ as he looks down at you.  He laughs just a little at the look on your face, a low chuckle as his grin widens. 

You cover your mouth, blinking innocently up at him. 

“Oh shit,” he says.  “I see.” 

You pout when he pulls out of you, but there is little time to feel bereft because he flips you over onto your front.  Your face lands in the pillows, then he yanks you down the bed.  

Oh, it feels filthy suddenly, because the new angle opens you up and you can feel come dripping out of you.  It catches his eye too, because he puts his fingers there and stuffs it back inside you.  

With little effort, he gets you back under him, pushes down your shoulders and lifts up your hips.  You feel him at your entrance again, pushing the tip past the rim. 

“Is that it?” he asks, dropping his voice so low yet sounding so sweet.  “You want me to make you my bitch, baby?” 

He slams home, holding your hips up while pounding into you with relentless measure.   You grab a pillow to hold, yelping and whining into it as he fucks you with wild abandon.  

For a few seconds, you succumb to that single-minded animalistic pursuit, and you really do believe he can put a baby in you.  You start babbling the desire – begging for it, asking him to fill you up. 

“Please, please, please,” you say, gasping. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he says, draping himself over your back, not stopping his hips for a second.  “I got you.  I’ll give you a baby.  So good for me.  Made to take it from me, yeah, baby?” 

 You know you are going to come again, his angle and precision too much to withstand.  Sure enough, you are coming all over his cock in a matter of seconds, squeezing him into another orgasm too. 

He kneels behind you, throws his head back while coming.  Then he grinds inside you like he is trying to get it as deep as possible. 

“Oh, Felix,” you say, whimpering when he pulls out, still hard, the burn less this time because you are so filthy wet that he slides so easily.   You can feel his release gush out of you, his fingers chasing it, pushing back into you. 

He rubs at you until you are rocking your hips and coming on his fingers.  It is so much stimulation that your eyes water and your nose starts to sniffle. 

He rolls you over and cups your face.  You open your mouth instinctively, tilting your head to expose your neck.    He looks at you like he can’t really believe you are exist and that you are here. 

“Wow,” he says.  The hand on your face slides so he can put his thumb back in your mouth, letting you suck on it like it is giving you life.  He clenches his jaw, makes a rough sound, presses down on your needy tongue.  “Next time,” he says, while starting to put his cock back into you, “Your mouth.  And my mouth.  You’re gonna sit on my face for hours.  I’m gonna take care of you.  Oh—”

He is halfway inside you when you reach up, putting your hands on his chest.  He stops immediately, pulling out, taking back his hands, looking at you with a concerned tilt to his head. 

“Will you lay on your back?” you ask, voice hoarse. 

He blinks, like for a second he doesn’t understand words, but then he obeys.  His hair is in absolute disarray, a veritable lion’s mane.  He rakes it back, smooths it down as best he can.  He never takes his eyes off you, watching as you sit up, as you climb on top of him, as you put him back inside you and set a slower pace. 

“My turn,” you say, smiling.  “I want to take care of you too.” 

He smiles, putting his hands on your hips but not guiding them.   He lets you take the lead, moving on top of him, finding all the ways to make him moan and close his eyes and twitch inside you.   

You make him come twice that way.  After the second time, he finally starts to soften enough that you can take a break. 

You lay down beside him, squeaking with surprise when you press down on your belly and a little more come gushes out of you.  You look at each other, his face the picture of total innocence despite his hand in it.  You swat his chest, rolling onto your side and putting your head on his chest. 

He laughs, putting his arm around you, stroking your back. 

“You know I do mean it,” he says, looking down at you.  “I want everything with you.” 

“Me too,” you say.  You kiss his chest, then his neck, under his jaw, making him sigh contently.  “I love you, Felix.  Everything about you, wolf and all.” 

“I love you too,” he says, pressing you close, kissing your forehead. 

There is a long moment of content silence.  He strokes your back, up and down, lulling you to a dozy state.  It is too early to sleep and, besides, the sheets need changing before that – even though you suspect they will just be dirtied again. 

You are contemplating these sweet mundane nothings when he says, “You’re in the pack, you know.  As my mate.  That makes you one of us.” 

“Does it?” you ask. 

“Yes,” he says.  “I’m telling you this, because you’re a packmate and Chan is leader, but you’re my mate, so you have to take my side and tell him to fuck off when he tries to say I told you so.” 

You laugh, shaking your head and playfully rolling your eyes. 

“Sounds good,” you say.  “Hmm, I might go have a shower before… the next… round…” 

You do not have to look down to know that he is hard already, his blinking gaze revealing all.  You giggle together and kiss again. 

“All right, fair enough,” you say, eyes closed, exposing your neck obediently when he cups your nape.  You press against him, moaning softly when he scents your neck then sucks a bruising kiss there.  “It can wait,” you say, smiling.  “We’ve been waiting for this long enough.” 

“Mm,” he says, already slipping back into his feverish need.  He grabs you and pulls you back on top of him. 

There is not much talking for a while, but there is some laughter and plenty of smiles, and for the first time in a long time, you are looking forward to everything that follows after.