#ngl I projected hard to him

[momentomori24]

How would you rank Wolfgang’s outfits in official arts (his Eden’s Island swimwear, his two Valentine’s Day outfits, his Christmas outfit, his Halloween costumes, etc.), including his usual suit?

28/10 ACROSS THE BOARD NO QUESTIONS ASKED

That's it. That's my ranking. He's literally perfect in all of these it makes me want to blow him up 😭 It should actually be illegal to be this beautiful and then being able to slay in every outfit to boot and then die first

[zirkkun]

hazuki is a wild character (at least to me) in the sense that he was in literally only 2 scenes, one of which very short, and he feels so insanely important to the plot in a way where i desperately want to write about him but we have so very little info that i feel as though i am scraping up bread crumbs that are crushed into the earth for a semblance of something to work with

[enhaflixer]

campus crush!sunghoon x f!reader

stats class. keep ur glasses on when u fuck me. statistical analysis with ur tongue. thats abt it. sunghoon word porn ngl ENHA HARD HOURS (kinda) 18+ MDNI

-

You're late. Again.

The digital clock on your phone reads 3:10 PM as you sprint across campus, your backpack bouncing against your spine with each step. Statistics seminar started ten minutes ago, and Professor Clarke has definitely noticed your absence by now. Not that it's unusual—you've made it a habit to burst through those doors at exactly ten minutes past, a whirlwind of apologies and bright smiles.

"Sorry, sorry!" you announce as you push open the computer lab door, slightly out of breath.

Twenty pairs of eyes swivel toward you, but Professor Clarke doesn't even look up from his laptop at the front of the room.

"How kind of you to join us," he says dryly. "We were just assigning semester project partners."

You flash him your most charming smile as you slide into an empty seat. "Perfect timing then."

A few people laugh. You've mastered the art of diffusing tension with humor, of making your tardiness seem like a quirky character trait rather than a genuine inability to manage time. It's gotten you this far in university.

"As I was saying," Professor Clarke continues, "this statistical analysis project will count for forty percent of your grade. You and your assigned partner will select a dataset, develop a hypothesis, and use STATA to analyze your findings." He gestures to the complex statistical software displayed on the projector screen—the same software that has been giving you nightmares since week one.

You glance around the room, hoping you'll be paired with Olivia or Zara—friends who wouldn't mind carrying the team if necessary. But when Professor Clarke reads off, "Sunghoon Park and..." followed by your name, your heart does something unexpected.

It skips.

You've noticed him before—it's hard not to. He always sits in the same spot three rows from the front, always arrives fifteen minutes early, always has his notebook open at the exact moment class begins.

What you haven't fully appreciated until now, as you turn to locate him in the room, is just how devastatingly handsome he is. His dark eyes find yours immediately behind stylish wire-rimmed glasses that give him an irresistible intellectual appeal. One corner of his perfectly shaped mouth lifts in the smallest acknowledgment, and a strand of black hair falls across his forehead when he nods at you. The combination of his reserved demeanor and model-worthy looks creates an effect that makes your stomach flip. He's the definition of a hot nerd—the kind that makes you temporarily forget about statistical analysis altogether and wonder what he'd look like with those glasses slightly askew, his usually perfect hair disheveled.

After partnering announcements finish, Professor Clarke instructs everyone to move next to their assigned partners to discuss project ideas.

You gather your things and make your way to Sunghoon's station, dropping into the chair beside him with dramatic flair.

"Fair warning," you say brightly, "I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing with this software. Like, none. Zero. Statistical analysis to me is deciding which café has the shortest queue."

You expect a sigh or a look of disappointment—it's what most serious students do when they realize they've been paired with you. Instead, Sunghoon's expression softens.

"It's okay," he says quietly, his voice carrying just a hint of an accent. "I'm... not an expert either."

"But you always look so focused during class," you say, gesturing to his immaculate notes.

He shrugs, the movement slight and controlled. "I write everything down. Doesn't mean I understand it all."

When he opens the STATA program and navigates through a few screens with apparent ease, you lean closer.

"Okay, so you're being modest. You definitely know more than I do."

"Barely," he admits, and you catch the faintest hint of a smile—not the polite one from before, but something genuine that makes you want to see it again. "I just know how to make it look like I know what I'm doing."

"That's an important life skill," you laugh, pulling your chair closer to see his screen better. "So what kind of data are we analyzing? Please say something fun like ice cream consumption versus happiness levels."

Sunghoon doesn't laugh, but his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners. "Actually," he says, "we can choose almost anything that interests us."

You bump his shoulder lightly with yours. "See? We're going to be great partners. I bring the wild ideas, you bring the common sense."

"Is that what they call it?" he asks, and there's a hint of playfulness in his voice that catches you off guard.

"What would you call it?" you challenge.

He considers for a moment, adjusting his glasses with a single finger pushed against the bridge. The gesture shouldn't be as attractive as it is. "Survival instinct."

You laugh, genuinely surprised. "So I'm dangerous?"

"No," he says, turning slightly to face you better. "Statistical software is dangerous. You're..." he pauses, seeming to search for the right word, "unpredictable."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It was meant as one." The quiet confidence in his voice sends a small thrill through you.

Professor Clarke clears his throat at the front of the room. "I expect project proposals by the end of next week. Choose your dataset carefully—it will determine the scope of your entire project."

You glance at the clock. Only fifteen minutes of class remain.

"So, partner," you say, lowering your voice as Professor Clarke continues, "when should we meet to figure this out? I promise I'll try not to be ten minutes late."

Sunghoon's mouth quirks up at one corner. "Would you actually show up if I said 8 AM at the library?"

"Now you're just testing me," you whisper back.

"Coffee shop after class on Thursday?" he suggests instead, his voice equally quiet. "The one behind the science building?"

"Beans & Books? You've got good taste." You nod approvingly. "I practically live there between classes."

"I know," he says, then immediately looks as if he wishes he could take it back.

"You know?" You raise an eyebrow, intrigued and slightly pleased.

A faint color appears high on his cheekbones. "I've seen you there. You always order something different and then type furiously on your laptop."

The fact that he's noticed you before, observed your habits even, gives you a little flutter of satisfaction. "And what do you order, Sunghoon Park? Let me guess—plain black coffee, no sugar."

His eyebrows lift slightly. "Close. Earl Grey tea."

"Of course," you nod sagely. "Sophisticated."

When class ends, you gather your things slowly, suddenly reluctant to leave. Sunghoon stands, slinging his messenger bag across his chest in one smooth motion.

"Thursday, then," he says, as if confirming an important business meeting.

"It's a date," you reply with deliberate casualness, watching his reaction.

His expression remains mostly neutral, but you don't miss the quick blink, the slight pause before he nods. "For statistics," he clarifies, but the slight upturn of his lips betrays him.

"For statistics," you agree solemnly, though you're already wondering what other subjects you might explore together.

The coffee shop meeting goes surprisingly well. What you expected to be an hour of awkward dataset discussions turns into three hours of conversation that meanders far beyond statistics. Sunghoon, it turns out, has layers beneath his reserved exterior—he plays piano, reads philosophy for fun, and has a dry sense of humor that catches you off guard and makes you laugh harder than you have in weeks.

By the end of the evening, you've not only selected your dataset (coffee consumption versus academic performance—your suggestion, which he surprisingly agreed to), but you've also learned that his stammer appears when he's either nervous or passionate about a topic. You find both instances equally endearing.

When Friday's class rolls around, something shifts. You arrive only five minutes late (progress), and the space beside Sunghoon, which is usually empty, now seems to be waiting for you. You slide into the seat and he glances up from his notebook, the corner of his mouth lifting in that subtle way that's becoming familiar.

"You're almost on time," he says quietly, amusement in his eyes.

"Don't get used to it," you reply, but there's no bite to your words.

Throughout the class, your awareness of him is heightened—the way his brow furrows when he's concentrating, how his fingers tap thoughtfully against the desk when Professor Clarke asks a difficult question, the scent of his cologne when he leans closer to point something out on your screen.

After class, you find yourself hesitating as you pack up your things, watching as he meticulously organizes his notes.

"So," you begin, aiming for casual, "I was thinking... we should probably meet again this weekend to work on the project." You pause. "My roommate's gone for the weekend. We could use my dorm? Fewer distractions than the coffee shop."

Sunghoon looks up, his expression unreadable for a moment before he nods. "That would be... efficient."

You laugh at his choice of words. "Very statistical of you."

"I meant—" he starts, a hint of that stammer appearing.

"I know what you meant," you interrupt, grinning. "Saturday at four?"

He nods, adjusting his glasses. "I'll bring the data analysis. You bring the coffee."

"Deal."

Saturday arrives, and for the first time in your university career, you spend thirty minutes tidying your room before a study session. You tell yourself it's just basic courtesy, not because you care what Sunghoon thinks of your living space.

At precisely four o'clock, there's a knock at your door. Punctual as always.

You open it to find Sunghoon standing there in jeans and a simple button-down shirt, his laptop bag slung across his body. He's swapped his usual wire-frames for slightly thicker black glasses that somehow make him look even more attractive—scholarly but with an edge.

"You're making me look bad with this punctuality thing," you say by way of greeting, stepping aside to let him in.

"Sorry?" he offers, clearly unsure if he's actually done something wrong.

You laugh. "I'm joking. Come in."

Your dorm room is standard—bed, desk, small seating area with a loveseat and coffee table—but you've made it yours with art on the walls and plants on every available surface. Sunghoon takes it all in with curious eyes.

"I like your space," he says, and it sounds genuine.

"Thanks. Where should we set up? Desk or coffee table?"

"Either is fine," he says, that formal politeness still present even after your hours in the coffee shop.

You end up at the coffee table, sitting side by side on the loveseat, laptops open. For an hour, you actually make progress on the project. Sunghoon explains correlations in a way that finally makes sense, and you discover you have a talent for visualizing data in creative ways that makes his eyes light up with approval.

But as the afternoon wears on, the small space means your shoulders keep brushing, your knees occasionally touch, and each point of contact feels increasingly deliberate. When you reach for your coffee at the same moment he reaches for his tea, your hands collide, and neither of you pulls away immediately.

"Sorry," you both say at once, and then laugh.

"Great minds," you add, but you're distracted by how his eyes look behind those glasses, warm and focused entirely on you.

At some point, you shift positions, both of you turning toward each other to discuss a particularly complicated aspect of your analysis. Your knees are definitely touching now, and the loveseat suddenly seems much smaller than it did an hour ago.

"So if we compare these variables..." he's saying, but you're watching his mouth form the words more than listening to their meaning.

"Hmm?" you say, forcing your attention back to the screen.

He turns to look at you fully, and you realize how close your faces are. "You're not listening," he says, but there's no accusation in his voice.

"I'm distracted," you admit.

"By statistics?"

"By you."

The words hang in the air between you. Sunghoon blinks, his expression shifting from confusion to something more intense. He swallows visibly, and you watch the movement in his throat.

"I'm... distracting?" he asks, his voice lower than before.

"Extremely." Your eyes lock on his glasses, the way they frame his dark eyes, how they complete his devastatingly attractive intellectual look. "Especially with these on."

His eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. "The glasses?"

"God, yes," you breathe, moving closer. "You have no idea how fucking hot you look in them."

A flush spreads across his cheeks, but there's a new confidence in the way he holds your gaze. Without warning, he pulls you forward into a kiss that has nothing of his usual restraint. His laptop slides forgotten to the coffee table as you shift closer, and then somehow you're straddling his lap, your hands on either side of his face as you deepen the kiss.

When you break apart to breathe, his glasses are slightly askew. You straighten them gently, then run your fingers through his usually immaculate hair, deliberately messing it up while keeping the glasses perfectly in place.

"You're so sexy," you murmur against his mouth. "I've been thinking about this since the first day we were paired up."

His hands find your hips, holding you firmly against him. "I find that... statistically improbable," he manages, but his breathing is as uneven as yours.

"I'll show you improbable," you whisper, grinding down deliberately. His glasses fog slightly from the heat between you, and the sight sends a thrill through your body. "So fucking hot," you repeat, unable to stop yourself.

His hands slide beneath your shirt, exploring with a surprising boldness that makes you gasp. "We should—" he starts, breathing heavily.

“Yes,” you agree, already pulling him up from the loveseat, walking backwards toward your bed while keeping his mouth on yours. “The project can definitely wait.”

You fall back onto the mattress, pulling him down with you, careful not to knock his glasses off as he hovers above you. They’ve fogged again from the heat between your bodies, and something about that sight—this controlled, precise man coming undone while still looking every bit the hot intellectual—pushes you past any remaining hesitation.

“Leave them on,” you insist when he reaches to remove his glasses. “Please.”

His lips curve into a smile that’s nothing like his usual restrained expressions—this one is knowing, almost wicked. “If that’s what you want,” he murmurs, lowering his mouth to your neck.

“It’s definitely what I want,” you gasp as his teeth graze your skin. “Along with… everything else.”

There’s a playful air to each touch, a slow building of tension as you both start to peel away layers. You tug at the hem of his shirt first, sliding it up inch by tantalizing inch until he lifts his arms to help you pull it off. He returns the favor by slipping a hand under your blouse, fingertips teasing over your ribs. Every time he tries to hasten the pace, you grin and slow him down, dragging the fabric just a bit more before letting it fall away, leaving him momentarily breathless. The sound he makes—caught somewhere between a groan and a laugh—sends a thrill through you.

Time seems to blur as clothing is discarded piece by piece, inhibitions falling away with each new revelation of skin. The afternoon sunlight filters through your curtains, casting everything in a warm glow.

At some point, you find yourself above him, both of you completely bare except for his glasses, which have somehow remained perfectly in place despite everything. You pause for a moment, taking in the sight of him beneath you—all lean muscle and flushed skin, those wire-rimmed glasses still perched on his nose, slightly fogged from the heat between your bodies.

“You’re staring,” he whispers, a vulnerability in his voice despite the intimate position.

“Can you blame me?” You lean down, placing a gentle kiss on his lips, then another, and another, each one growing more insistent. “God, look at you.”

His hands find your hips, steadying you as you continue to kiss him, his glasses occasionally bumping against your face in a way that only heightens your desire. There's something impossibly erotic about him being completely naked except for those glasses—the contrast between his exposed body and that one remnant of his studious, put-together appearance.

"You're so fucking sexy," you breathe against his mouth. "How does anyone focus in that statistics class with you sitting there looking like this?"

He laughs softly, the sound vibrating against your lips. "I could ask you the same question."

Your kisses become more urgent, your bodies moving together with increasing need. The heat between you builds with each touch, each whispered encouragement. Sunghoon's usually careful movements grow bolder, more instinctive, as your hands explore each other's bodies. His glasses, still perfectly perched on his nose, begin to fog at the edges first—just a light mist that catches the dim light of your room. But as your passion intensifies, as your breathing grows more ragged and synchronized, the lenses cloud completely.

When you pull back to look at him, you can't help but laugh softly at the sight—this brilliantly composed man now completely blinded by the evidence of your shared desire, those glasses that make him look so irresistibly intellectual now rendered useless by the heat radiating between your bodies. To your surprise, he laughs too—not the polite chuckle you've heard in class or the soft amusement from your coffee shop conversations, but a genuine, uninhibited sound that seems to come from somewhere deep inside him. It's rich and warm and completely unguarded.

"I can't see a thing," he admits, his voice husky with desire and amusement. His hands find your face despite his temporary blindness, thumbs tracing your cheekbones with unexpected precision. "But I don't need to see to know exactly where you are."

"Is that so?" you challenge, your breath catching as his fingers trail down your neck, across your collarbone, mapping you with deliberate attention.

"I've been studying you," he murmurs, his touch making you shiver despite the heat between you. "Memorizing. Analyzing patterns." His hands continue their exploration, finding every sensitive spot with remarkable accuracy. "It's very... statistical."

You laugh against his mouth. "Only you could make statistics sound sexy."

Through the fogged lenses, you can just barely make out how his eyes darken at your words. "I have other statistical terms I could demonstrate," he offers, surprising you again with his boldness. His accent becomes slightly more pronounced when he's like this—another detail you've grown to cherish.

"Show me," you whisper, and he does—his hands and mouth conducting a thorough analysis of cause and effect, of stimuli and response, until you're clutching at his shoulders and gasping his name. All while those fogged-up glasses remain perfectly in place, the final vestige of his composed exterior while everything else between you unravels into glorious chaos.

You’re already bare beneath him, skin flushed from teasing and anticipation, but the only thing still clinging to his body—those damn glasses—make it so much worse. Or better. Definitely better.

Sunghoon hovers over you, gaze dark behind the lenses, lips swollen and slightly parted as he takes in the sight of you. You should be embarrassed at how wanton you must look, legs spread for him, body already trembling, but he’s the one who looks wrecked. His composure is gone, shattered somewhere between the desperate kisses and the way you dragged your nails down his back.

His lips quirk. “Still want me to leave them on?”

“Don’t even think about taking them off.”

His smile turns wicked, and then he’s moving—kissing, sucking, trailing his mouth down your body with purpose. His fingers dig into your thighs, spreading you wider, and then he’s right there—close enough that you can feel the ghost of his breath against you, the heat of it making your stomach clench.

He doesn’t start slow. No teasing, no light flicks of his tongue just to test the waters. Sunghoon eats you like he’s been starving for this, like he’s been waiting for the moment he could taste you, drown in you. His tongue is hot and relentless, curling against you just right, pressing where you need him most, sending shockwaves through every nerve in your body.

But what really undoes you is the feeling of his glasses pressing against your inner thighs, the cold metal contrasting with the heat of his mouth. Every time he moves, every time he adjusts his angle, the frames shift against your skin—slightly rough, slightly smooth, a reminder of exactly who is between your legs and how absolutely ruined he’s making you.

You fist the sheets, hips jerking up into his mouth, but he pins you down effortlessly, a strong arm wrapped around your thigh to keep you exactly where he wants you. He groans when you tug at his hair, the vibrations shooting through you, making you gasp his name.

“Fuck, Sunghoon—”

His response is a low hum against your clit, and your whole body shakes. You feel the damp heat of his breath, the slick slide of his tongue, but more than anything, you feel the weight of those goddamn glasses as they drag along your skin, fogging up even more, smudging against your inner thigh every time he moves deeper, harder, sloppier.

The sheer filth of it makes you clench around nothing.

Sunghoon notices, because of course he does—because he’s been studying you this whole time, memorizing what makes you gasp, what makes your thighs tremble around his head. And he’s smug about it, too, because when he pulls back just enough to glance up at you, lips glistening, glasses just barely slipping down his nose, he smirks.

“You like that, don’t you?” His voice is raspy, breathless, wrecked.

You don’t even try to deny it. “Yes—God, yes, don’t stop.”

Sunghoon’s smirk deepens, and he doesn’t make you beg for it. He dives right back in, tongue flicking, sucking, his grip on your thighs tightening as you lose yourself completely. The drag of his glasses, the precise way he adjusts his angle to push you higher, the way he groans into you like he’s getting off on this just as much as you are—it’s too much.

The coil in your stomach snaps hard, pleasure crashing over you so intensely that you barely realize you’re pulling at his hair, moaning his name like a prayer, like you might fall apart completely if he stops.

Sunghoon doesn’t stop. Not right away. He works you through the aftershocks, his tongue slow, methodical, lazy in a way that makes you shudder from overstimulation. Only when your body twitches beneath him does he finally pull away, chin glistening, glasses fucking ruined.

You’re still gasping when he crawls back up your body, hovering over you, his mouth right there, his glasses so close you can see the way they’re fogged-up and smudged with sweat.

When you finally collapse beside each other, spent and satisfied, his glasses are askew once more. You reach over to straighten them, and he catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm.

"So," you say, when you've caught your breath, "should we tell Professor Clarke we've found an interesting correlation to study?"

Sunghoon laughs, the sound free and unrestrained in a way you hadn't heard before today. "I don't think this is what he had in mind for the assignment."

"His loss," you murmur, snuggling closer. "I'd say our statistical analysis was very... thorough."

"We should probably actually work on the project at some point," he says, but makes no move to get up.

"Tomorrow," you promise, running a finger along his jawline. "I think we need to collect more data first."

His eyebrow raises above the rim of his glasses. "For the sake of academic integrity?"

"Absolutely," you agree solemnly, before dissolving into laughter.

The statistics of probability have never been so compelling.

-

Over the next few weeks, your statistics class takes on an entirely new dimension. What was once your least favorite part of the week has become the highlight—not because you've suddenly developed a passion for data analysis, but because of the subtle dance that unfolds between you and Sunghoon twice a week in that computer lab.

The Monday after your "study session," you arrive to class five minutes early—a personal record. Sunghoon is already there, of course, and the moment he sees you, his ears turn slightly pink. When you slide into the seat next to him, now officially your spot, he gives you a small smile that feels like a secret.

"You're early," he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

"I had motivation," you reply, letting your knee brush against his under the desk.

His eyes flicker to your lips for a fraction of a second before returning to his notebook. "I hope it wasn't just for... statistical analysis."

"Depends on how you define statistics," you whisper just as Professor Clarke calls the class to order.

Throughout the lecture, you're acutely aware of every movement Sunghoon makes—how he adjusts his glasses when he's thinking, the precise way he takes notes, the occasional glance he throws your way when he thinks you're not looking. Halfway through class, you deliberately drop your pen between you. When you both reach for it, your fingers touch, and he doesn't pull away. Instead, he hooks his pinky finger over yours for just a moment before handing you the pen. The small gesture sends a flutter through your chest.

After class, you walk together to the coffee shop without needing to discuss it. Somehow, it's already become your routine.

"How's the dataset compilation going?" he asks as you find a small table in the corner.

"That's what you want to talk about right now? Really?" You raise an eyebrow.

A faint smile plays at his lips. "We do have a project due in three weeks."

"Always so responsible," you sigh dramatically, but there's fondness in your voice. "It's going fine. I've got the coffee consumption survey data from about fifty students so far."

He nods approvingly. "That's a decent sample size for our purposes."

When your drinks arrive—his Earl Grey and your excessively complicated latte—you notice something different about him. He's still quiet, still thoughtful, but there's a new ease to his movements, a softness around his eyes when he looks at you.

"What?" he asks, catching you studying him.

"Nothing," you say, then reconsider. "Actually, not nothing. You seem... different."

He takes a sip of his tea, considering. "I feel different," he admits after a moment. "With you."

The simple sincerity of his words catches you off guard. For all your flirtatious confidence, his straightforward honesty disarms you completely.

"Good different?" you ask, suddenly feeling shy.

"Very good different," he confirms, and beneath the table, his foot rests against yours. Not by accident.

By the third week, you've fallen into patterns that blend the academic with the intimate. Your Tuesday and Thursday afternoons are devoted to actual project work—usually in the library where the public setting keeps you reasonably focused. 

Your Saturday “study sessions” in your dorm room are significantly less productive in the statistical sense, though you joke that you’re certainly collecting plenty of data on other variables.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes every time you say it, but you know he loves it—loves how eager, how shameless you are when it comes to him. Because every time you spread your legs for him, every time you drag him into another compromising position, he never tells you no.

Case Study #1: The Textbooks

It starts with an innocent enough setup—Sunghoon sitting cross-legged on the floor, back against your bed, flipping through a statistics textbook while you sit across from him, pretending to study. But it’s boring. He looks too good in his glasses, sleeves rolled up, the slightest furrow in his brow as he concentrates. And before you even realize you’re moving, you’re crawling into his lap, straddling him right there on top of the book.

He barely has time to exhale your name before you sink down onto him, making both of you groan.

The hardcover digs into your knees, the pages creasing beneath you, but you couldn’t care less. Sunghoon is buried inside you, stretching you open, warm and deep and perfect, and the only data you’re analyzing is how his breath stutters when you roll your hips just right.

“Fuck, you’re unreal—” he pants, hands gripping your waist, watching you through the slightly fogged lenses of his glasses as you use him, ride him slow, grind on him like you want to ruin him.

You do. You want to wreck him just as much as he’s wrecking you. The friction, the delicious drag, the way his hands squeeze your hips to urge you to go faster, harder—it all shreds your self-control.

By the time you both come undone, gasping and clinging to each other, the textbook beneath you is thoroughly creased, sticky, ruined. Neither of you even bother looking at it.

Case Study #2: The Desk Chair

Another Saturday, another useless attempt at studying.

Sunghoon’s seated at your desk this time, one leg lazily spread, hand bracing his forehead as he tries to focus. But you’re kneeling between his legs, and the moment you reach for his zipper, his entire body tenses.

“You’re insatiable.”

“And?” You tug his pants down just enough to free him, palming his length, watching him harden in your hand as his breathing turns shallow.

He leans back, exhaling sharply when your lips part and you take him deep. His hand finds the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as you swirl your tongue around him, tease him, make him fall apart.

His glasses slip down his nose as he watches you, half-lidded and dazed, jaw slack as you take him deeper, sucking, hollowing your cheeks, making obscene little noises that drive him insane.

He trembles when he finally spills down your throat, groaning your name, head thrown back against the chair.

And the moment he catches his breath, he drags you into his lap, flips you onto the desk, and fucks you stupid.

Case Study #3: Against the Window

Another week. Another “study session.” Another location.

This time, you find yourself pressed against the glass of your dorm window, palms splayed, breath fogging the pane as Sunghoon pounds into you from behind.

The curtains are open.

You don’t know if anyone can see—if someone walking by on the street below can look up and spot your bare body, the lewd way you’re bent over, Sunghoon’s hands gripping your hips as he drives into you with punishing force.

But you don’t care.

All you care about is the way he grunts into your ear, his glasses slightly askew, one hand slipping down to rub your clit, making you jerk and gasp his name as pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave.

“Keep your eyes open,” he growls, voice thick with lust, dragging his lips along your shoulder. “Look outside. Look at what a mess you are.”

Case Study #4: The Shower

It’s late, and you should be asleep. But instead, you’re pressed up against the tiled wall of your tiny dorm shower, water scalding hot, steam curling around you as Sunghoon lifts you up, holds you against him, and fucks you slow, deep.

His glasses are gone, finally.

They’d fogged up the moment he stepped into the shower, and the second you’d made a joke about it, he’d taken them off and set them on the sink. But you don’t miss them too much—not when his mouth is on your throat, sucking bruises into your wet skin, not when his fingers dig into your thighs, keeping you in place as he rolls his hips into you with exquisite precision.

You come twice before you finally stumble out of the shower, exhausted, dripping, completely spent.

And the moment you walk back into your dorm room, still naked, Sunghoon picks up his glasses, slides them back on, and gives you a look that tells you he’s nowhere near finished with you.

Case Study #5: The Floor (Again, Because You Can’t Stop)

At this point, you don’t even make it to the bed.

You’re both desperate, panting, **clawing at each other like you can’t stand the idea of being apart for another second.**The moment Sunghoon pushes you onto the floor, you’re already wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him down, gasping when he fills you in one smooth thrust.

It’s fast, dirty, messy.

He grits out your name, one hand bracing beside your head, the other gripping your thigh, holding you open as he slams into you, pace brutal, relentless. The carpet burns on your back will be worth it.

He loses his glasses at some point, but you don’t even notice—you’re too busy coming apart beneath him, clawing at his back, moaning his name like you’ll never get enough of him.

Maybe you won’t.

Because the second you catch your breath, still tangled up in him, you’re already thinking about where you’ll fuck next.

What surprises you most is how much you enjoy both versions of your time together. The project, which should be tedious, becomes engaging through Sunghoon's perspective. He has a way of finding patterns in chaos that makes even the driest data seem fascinating. And through your influence, he's learning to approach problems more creatively, to see beyond the rigid frameworks he's always relied on.

"What if we visualize it this way instead?" you suggest one Tuesday, sketching a completely unorthodox chart on the margin of his meticulously organized notes.

His initial reaction is skepticism—you can see it in the slight furrow of his brow—but he considers it longer than he would have three weeks ago.

"It's unconventional," he says finally.

"But?"

"But it might actually work better for presenting the correlation," he concedes, and the smile you give him is so bright it makes the student at the next table look over.

In class, Professor Clarke notices the change in both of you. Your questions become more insightful, Sunghoon's responses more animated. When you present your initial findings mid-semester, the professor actually seems impressed by your unusual approach to visualization.

"An interesting methodology," he comments, adjusting his own glasses in a way that reminds you of Sunghoon. "Unorthodox, but effective."

You beam at Sunghoon, who ducks his head slightly but can't hide his pleased expression.

After class, he catches your hand as you're packing up—a gesture he would never have initiated before.

"We make a good team," he says quietly.

"The best," you agree, squeezing his fingers before reluctantly letting go. Public displays still make him slightly uncomfortable, and you respect his boundaries.

-

It's during a rainy Friday evening in your dorm room, six weeks into your relationship (though neither of you has officially labeled it as such), that something shifts again.

You're sprawled on your bed with your laptop, Sunghoon sitting at your desk reviewing your latest statistical findings, his glasses reflecting the blue light of the screen. Classical music plays softly from his phone—another new development. He's been gradually introducing you to his favorite composers, and you've found you actually enjoy the background music while working.

"Your scatterplot is missing a data point," he says, turning to look at you.

"Mmm, probably deleted it accidentally," you reply, not looking up from your position. "Is it important?"

"All data points are important," he says, but there's amusement in his voice rather than criticism.

You roll onto your back, laptop balanced on your stomach. "That sounds like something that would be on a statistics department t-shirt. 'All data points matter.'"

He laughs—a sound that's become less rare but no less thrilling to hear. "I'd wear it."

"Of course you would," you tease. "With your glasses and a pocket protector."

He makes a face at you. "I don't own a pocket protector."

"Yet," you add with a grin.

He shakes his head, turning back to the screen, but you catch the smile he tries to hide. After a moment, he speaks again without looking at you.

"My parents want to meet you."

You sit up so quickly your laptop nearly slides off your stomach. "What?"

Now he turns, his expression a mixture of nervousness and something softer. "I mentioned you during our weekly call. Multiple times, apparently. My mother... noticed."

"You talk about me to your parents?" You can't keep the pleased surprise from your voice.

He adjusts his glasses, a gesture you now recognize as his tell when he's feeling vulnerable. "It seems I do."

"What do you tell them?" You set your laptop aside, giving him your full attention.

"That you're brilliant in ways I'm not. That you see solutions I miss." He pauses. "That you make statistics class the best part of my week."

Your heart does that skipping thing it did the first day Professor Clarke paired you together, only stronger now.

"Sunghoon Park," you say softly, "are you saying I'm statistically significant to you?"

His expression turns serious, though his eyes remain gentle. "With a p-value approaching zero," he replies, and though it's phrased as a joke, his tone makes it clear it's anything but.

In statistics, a p-value approaching zero indicates an extremely high likelihood that an observed effect is real and not due to chance. It's the closest thing to certainty that statistics allows.

You cross the room to where he sits, gently taking his face between your hands. His glasses are slightly smudged, and you resist the urge to clean them, focusing instead on the eyes behind them.

"So," you say, "when do I meet these parents who raised such a statistically significant nerd?"

He laughs, pulling you into his lap in a move that would have seemed impossibly bold from him just weeks ago. "They're visiting next weekend. Dinner on Saturday?"

"I'm there," you promise, sealing it with a kiss.

-

The day of your semester project presentation arrives with an unexpected lack of anxiety. You're prepared—more prepared than you've been for any academic presentation in your life. Partly because the subject has actually become interesting to you, but mostly because working on it meant spending hours with Sunghoon.

You stand beside him at the front of the class, watching him explain your methodology with a confidence that wasn't there at the beginning of the semester. His voice is still quiet, still measured, but there's a strength behind it now, an assurance that comes from truly understanding his material. When he gestures to your creative visualization on the screen, there's a hint of pride in his voice that makes your chest warm.

When it's your turn to present, you catch him watching you with undisguised admiration. You explain the correlations you found between different types of coffee consumption and various academic performance metrics, throwing in jokes that make the class laugh and complex statistical terms that make Professor Clarke nod approvingly.

"And in conclusion," you finish, "we found that while caffeine consumption generally correlates with improved academic performance up to a point, the type of environment in which the coffee is consumed may be an equally significant factor."

"Furthermore," Sunghoon adds, stepping forward to stand beside you, shoulder to shoulder, "we discovered that the companionship variable—whether students studied alone or with others—showed the strongest positive correlation with both satisfaction and performance outcomes."

His eyes meet yours for a brief moment, and you know he's not just talking about the data anymore.

When Professor Clarke gives your presentation an A and commends your "complementary analytical approaches," you resist the urge to high-five Sunghoon in front of everyone. Instead, you wait until you're outside the building, then throw your arms around him in celebration.

To your surprise, he lifts you slightly off the ground in his enthusiasm, spinning once before setting you down, his face flushed with excitement and mild embarrassment at his own uncharacteristic display.

"We did it," he says, adjusting his glasses which were knocked askew by your hug.

"Was there ever any doubt?" you reply, reaching up to straighten them properly. "We're statistically significant, remember?"

His smile softens, and right there on the path outside the statistics building, with students streaming past on their way to other classes, he kisses you without hesitation or self-consciousness.

"What was that for?" you ask when he pulls away, delighted but surprised by the public display.

"I've been collecting data," he says, his eyes crinkling behind those glasses you've grown to love, "and I've formed a hypothesis."

"Oh?" You raise an eyebrow. "And what hypothesis is that, Mr. Park?"

He takes your hand, lacing his fingers through yours as you begin walking toward the coffee shop that's become your place.

"That I'm in love with you," he says simply. "And unlike most statistical conclusions, I'm one hundred percent certain."

You stop walking, turning to face him fully. "That's a bold statistical claim. Absolute certainty is rare in your field."

"I have compelling evidence," he counters, and the confidence in his voice, so different from the hesitant student you met months ago, makes your heart race.

"I might need to review your data," you tease, though your voice catches slightly.

"Extensive observation over time," he begins, stepping closer. "Consistent results across multiple variables. Reproducible effects." His voice drops lower. "Significant positive impact on all quality-of-life metrics."

"Very scientific," you murmur, your hands finding their way to his chest.

"I thought so," he agrees, his eyes serious despite the playful exchange. "So my conclusion stands."

You rise on your tiptoes, pressing your forehead to his. "Well, as someone who's conducted a parallel study, I can confirm your findings. The evidence suggests I'm in love with you too."

His smile, rare and full, lights up his entire face. "Independently verified results. The best kind."

“Should we celebrate this breakthrough with coffee?” you suggest, already knowing his answer.

“I was thinking maybe we skip the coffee today,” he says, surprising you again. “I have other hypotheses I’d like to test.”

“Professor Clarke would be shocked at your dedication to statistical research,” you laugh, letting him lead you in the direction of your dorm instead of the coffee shop.

“Some variables,” he says with newfound confidence, “are worth studying in depth.”

You lean in close, pressing your lips right against the shell of his ear, and whisper the kind of filth that would make even the most shameless person blush.

“Then why don’t you pin me down the second we walk through that door, shove your face between my legs, and eat me so fucking good I forget my own name? And when I can’t take anymore, you’ll flip me over and fuck me like you’re trying to imprint yourself inside me—deep, rough, until I’m crying and drooling on the sheets, too dumb to do anything but take it.”

Sunghoon stops breathing.

You feel the exact moment your words hit him—his entire body locks up, his grip on your wrist tightens, his jaw clenches so hard you swear you hear his teeth grind.

His glasses fog immediately.

A strangled noise escapes him, something between a curse and a choked groan, and then he’s moving.

Not just moving—dragging you, fast, purposeful, like a man on a mission.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters under his breath, voice wrecked, dangerous, and it sends a thrill straight through you.

By the time you reach your dorm, he’s already reaching for the door handle, barely keeping himself together, and the second it clicks shut behind you—

You know he’s about to make good on every single word you just whispered.

That, by any metric, was statistically significant indeed.

-

TL: @ziiao @beariegyu @seonhoon @somuchdard @naurwayyyyy @bloomiize @zzhengyu @annybah @ijustwannareadstuff20 @ddolleri @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway-143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @cristy-101 @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586 @cybe4 @starniras @wonuziex

[oikarma]

sweetener

pairing: franco colapinto x reader

summary: time to start promoting your documentary about lewis hamilton. the best place for publicity is in the pit lane, but there seems to be another hamilton fan on the grid-nevermind, there might be new contender for franco colapinto's heart.

a/n: google translate. i don't speak spanish sorry 😭 here's a happy, cutesy one in celebration of franco becoming alpine's reserve driver!

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liked by f1, lewishamilton, and 3,530,927 others

yourinstagram I'm sure you all know of his triumphs, but there are many struggles that have been forgotten.

tagged: lewishamilton SEVEN UP: THE LEWIS HAMILTON STORY out in theatres April 4th, 2025.

view all 149,103 comments

user1 who put her in charge 💀 hasn't she butchered enough projects

user2 hope the FIA didn't have a say on this one

user3 pfft watch half the documentary end up being an argument on why lewis should've won abu dhabi 21

user4 mother hard at work!!

user5 does this mean she's doing a press tour?? what's the equivalent of a press tour for a documentary

user6 on her live a while back y/n said she would be doing some promotional interviews with lewis and there was a rumor that she'll be showing up at the first few races of the year

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liked by lewishamilton, francolapinto and 5,053,782 others

yourinstagram Now and then. We interviewed Lewis after his first day at Maranello and after his last race with Mercedes.

tagged: lewishamilton

view all 394,332 comments

user1 you can hate her but she got the GOAT scheduling interviews with her

user2 to be an oscar-nominated director and to work with lewis hamilton 🙏 life goals user3 It's literally just PR. It's his film of course he has to show up to talk to her about it user2 @/user3 hello?? he doesn't HAVE to show up or do anything most documentaries r released after the subject(s) pass/r in no condition to comment and neither lewis nor the film need pr it's all a matter of politeness user3 someone's defensive...

user4 he looks so much happier! shame he wasn't wearing red though it's almost like he's still repping mercedes

user5 love that for him but pls whoever picked that outfit needs to be talked to

francolapinto GOAT 🐐

user6 franco being a fan as always user7 SKDFJDS he's so unserious i love him

scuderiaferrari it was so cool seeing you on your factory tour 🤩

yourinstagram anytime, admin!

user8 well didn't merc fumble rather badly on that one

user9 😔 end of an era...but it was great while it lasted

user9 ngl i like the grey. it's still kinda jarring seeing him in BRIGHT RED.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by francolapinto, charles_lerclerc, and 340,771 others

scuderiaferrari Best director in our hearts! Academy-nominated director Y/N L/N graced our paddock today for the Australian GP ❤️

tagged: yourinstagram

user1 franco in the likes...ariana what are you doing here

user2 he better take the alpine seat permanently i NEED to see him on the grid

user3 admin have you watched we live in time yet?

scuderiaferrari have watched all of miss y/ns films at least twice. that one destroyed me. ☹️ user4 admin getting a little relatable here

user5 uh oh someone's salty about her losing to jacques audiard

user6 let's be fr though he totally deserved it more user7 but did you see how he snubbed cynthia during her nomination? rude asf at least y/n has class

charles_leclerc Consider yourself booked for my documentary

yourinstagram let's not get ahead of ourselves charles. alexandra on the other hand... alexandrasaintmleux what an honor 🥰 user8 LMFAO

user9 slayed the house (garage?) down

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── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by roscoelovescoco, francolapinto and 410,932 others

yourinstagram thanks for having me this weekend 😚 now say hi to the real star of the show

view all 30,814 comments

roscoelovescoco come back soon please

yourinstagram anything for you <3 user1 SHE MET ROSCOE IVE NEVER BEEN MORE JEALOUS OF ANYONE IN MY WHOlE LiFE

user2 jaw dropped

user3 the color is so cute!!

francolapinto blue looks good on you. wanna match sometime?

user4 franco trying to convince alpine to invite her LOL user5 he shot his shot and it fell flat to the ground yourinstagram sorry, i prefer red

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by alpinef1team and 673,410 others

francolapinto back on the grind 💪

view all 49,126 comments

user1 did he-

user2 i think- user3 what- user4 can someone finish their sentence please 😭 im so lost

user5 franco you could use me until my body and mind broke but all i'd ask is if tomorrow works for you

user6 my heart just stopped

user7 am i overreacting or is this a response to y/n's comment about liking red better

user8 THAT'S WHAT I THOUGHT user9 right but mb he just wore a diff color shirt user10 this clashes w all his feed though he's either in light blue/white/navy

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

francolapinto has added to their stories

[ translation: i like my coffee bitter, but she's pretty sweet ]

replies

oscarpiastri you finally tried the swiss roll?

francolapinto it was so good 😋 i had two!

yourinstagram you literally called me sour and bitter

francolapinto all my teasing's in the name of love yourinstagram right.

user1 who's she franco??

user2 the only time i ever use google is to figure out wtf franco's writing on his stories

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

yourinstagram has added to their stories

replies

lewishamilton how was he?

yourinstagram decent. did not yap as much about you as i expected lewishamilton i guess meeting me reduces a bit of the obsession yourinstagram it's okay lew, he DID ask me how you were doing, what you thought of him, and what it was like working w you lewishamilton maybe he just got sidetracked

francolapinto mi preciosa

yourinstagram okay. francolapinto you like me a bit more, no? yourinstagram you tell me franco

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by alexandrasaintmleux and 790,148 others

yourinstagram きれい

view all 61,493 comments

user1 no idea what she said but pop off queen!

user2 her feed...😭 it's so pretty

user3 y/n will we see you @ suzuka??

yourinstagram 🤫 user4 NO WAY I THOUGHT THEY'D WRAPPED PROMO BUT YAYAYAY

francolapinto no hablo japonesa pero te amo en español (i don't speak japanese but i love you in spanish)

user5 am i. seeing things? user6 franco we talked about this you can't be thirsting over random girls it'll make you look like a simp francolapinto @/user6 ¿simp? cualquiera estaría por ella (simp? anyone would be for her) user7 oh the way i will mourn when the pr team gets ahold of him user8 and the way she ignored him 💀

user9 my fatal flaw is thinking that if i had a camera i would be taking pics like these too

alexandrasaintmleux heavenly

yourinstagram muah muah user10 @/charles_leclerc your girlfriend is in love w someone else

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

francolapinto added to their stories

viewed by f1gossipofficial and 87,029 others

replies

user1 oh my GOD they're DATING??

user2 y/n folded

user3 franco how'd you bag a baddie like her

user4 one chance mi amor

yourinstagram who took the photo?

francolapinto may have asked a very nice vendor to take pictures of my gf on our first date 🥺 yourinstagram didn't know you had enough rizz to get a girlfriend francolapinto yeah me neither i think she likes me because i get awkward around her

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by lewishamilton and 928,137 others

yourinstagram he likes it when i'm mean

view all 60,438 comments

user1 she hard launched him on her main?? omg y/n you are a changed woman

user2 his biceps...

francolapinto i like being degraded sue me

user3 HELLO? user4 franco never let them change you yourinstagram weak.

user5 he's such a puppy for her oml

user6 goals fr

lewishamilton pay up.

yourinstagram we didn't even make a bet?? charles_leclerc @/yourinstagram if you'd just waited ONE day yourinstagram @/charles_leclerc you bet on my relationship?? francolapinto i appreciate your confidence in me lewis yourinstagram @/francolapinto idiot. you don't even know what the specifics of the bet were

[cryptidmickle]

hi your amnesiac au has me in SHAMBLES plsplspls im crying sobbing stabbing the floor

im so glad i discovered your blog 😭 your art is so lovely and nice and just. Yes. eats everythibg snd leaves no crumbs /silly

PLEASE i require more info about amnesiac au.

could this happen to the other Beasts? if it can happen to Shadow Milk, it might be possible with the others, should their Ancient counterparts get lucky with their attacks

does Shadow Milk gradually become less of an ass? does he seek answers as to Why he was so awful? does he care at all?

how horrified is he at the revelation that he was such a huge issue for the faeries + PV, if at all? he already doesn't know much about himself, so would not knowing he was such a problem, such an awful person, terrify him, considering he doesn't remember any of this?

idk. i personally would be so so incredibly horrified and terrified that i was so terrible and..well, monstrous, if i may. i kinda project onto Shadow Milk im ngl so that's probably why im saying any of this

IM SORRY THIS IS SO LONG im just so,,, AAAUAGTHYBHLRHTLBFLTTKG /POS abt this entire au. hoenstly it inspires me; both your art and your ideas and concepts

hope you have a good day!! stay safe /gen

SOBS IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE THIS AU!!! i read all the tags on my posts btw so if any of u went crazy in there i saw it and went crazy w u. im deranged and mentally ill if u cant tell.

i would say the cracking of the souljam and loss of power is very possible for the other beasts! the amnesia however is a Very special case of pure vanilla fucking up the spell he cast

the other beasts would be depowered and much weaker, but retain their memories...... actually, would their corruption break as well since the souljam disconnected entirely from them? hm, i think redemption would be more possible if an ancient got a lucky shot, in that case

shadow milk does in fact become less of a jerk! what with no longer being secluded in a spire losing his mind and sense of identity all by himself, his personality is forced to become. eh. LESS THORNY.

pure vanilla is socializing him like a dog and he is NOT enjoying it. but i am. put that guy in situations.

shadow milk does in fact seek answers to why he did so many terrible things! he knows his... current personality isn't the greatest, but he can't imagine doing some of the things described

he feels a certain disconnect to the him others describe terrorizing them to the him of present, while he feels bad for what happened to them he doesn't really feel apologetic because was it really him? how's he supposed to know?

should he feel sorry because it technically was him, just.. evil? would that excuse it if he doesn't feel sorry at all?

this is where shadow milk and white lily have similar dilemmas because they both have previously done terrible things to others, especially pure vanilla. they feel bad about it, they dont wanna hurt him or others like that ever again

but then this is where they separate because shadow milk doesn't feel at fault, he doesn't remember doing all those things, he doesn't even know who that was! you want me to grovel forever about it? pathetic, what's done is done anyways, why not try to do something now?

white lily absolutely despises that mindset as she's competing with pv over who can hate themselves more, and she is winning. she thinks they both deserve to repent forever for their crimes but is constantly reminded of the fact that she remembers but shadow milk doesn't! she knows what she did, why she did it, it was bad and terrible, but she understands and that's what's important and she must repent for it

shadow milk doesn't know, he doesn't know anything at all and theres even more that they can't tell him as he's apparently been evil for centuries. it's hard to argue that he needs to feel bad when the personalities are truly separated.

......i went on a ramble again.

he doesn't feel bad about what he did but he is in fact, very unnerved that he may be capable of those actions again, and with pure vanilla trying to teach him to be good and kind its...... panic inducing sometimes, that maybe he can do something terrible again, that the evil is possibly just lurking under the surface and hes fooling himself and everyone around him

[pullupinarari]

The Secret of Us [LH]

II. The Flame of Us

summary: a 5 chapter miniseries in which Lewis chooses you to coordinate one of his new projects, but the instant spark flicking between the two of you makes the professional lines grow a little blurry. do the both of you feel the same?

author’s note: the very much awaited chapter two is finally here! i'm not allowed to have any more horny hours after this one istg 😭 thank you girls for all the support you showed me on the first chapter of this plot that I love so much! hope you enjoy this 🩷

warnings: yall this is a big ass smut with very little plot ngl 😭 MINORS DNI!! p in v, protected AND unprotected sex cause i'm crazy, some hair pulling and a lot of filthiness. let me know if i'm missing something!

• masterlist

wc: 10 171 - English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated

After Lewis’ invitation, you are left confused, divided between a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’, your hands softly trembling as your brain tries to process his words. 

Standing in the middle of your office, with your desk working as a wall between your bodies, your eyes are connected to his, while you’re both trying to read each other. 

Lewis’ hand is tightening around the arm rest of your chair, an attempt to hold himself up so his knees won’t buckle at the suspense you’re creating, the silence diving in between your bodies being enough for his blood to rush with anxiety. 

Please, Y/N. Don’t leave me here like this. I don’t know how much longer I can take it. I need an answer. 

It’s like the four walls surrounding you are getting smaller and tighter as the minutes go by, making it harder for you to breathe while you continue thinking about his offer. A dinner out, with your company’s most important client, behind your boss’ back? It seems like the perfect plan to get you fired, honestly - and you’re not in the mood to lose your job, right now. 

Your brain keeps telling you to decline his invitation, to please say no, for yours and everyone else’s sake. Don’t create a problem where everything is peaceful and nice. You like your job, your boss isn’t that bad, you have a good position at the company, and if nothing is going wrong, why would you actively try to find a fire to burn yourself in? 

On the other hand, your heart - that stubborn little organ that always likes to play hard to get, but that somehow, has softened up so much at the sight of Lewis and the little moments you’ve shared - it’s the responsible one for all the doubts clouding in your mind, for the warmth erupting through your chest every time his name pops on your phone screen. And it’s the one telling you to accept it, to have dinner with the man in front of you, to enjoy some more alone time with him out of the cage that your office currently represents when you’re together. 

Each emotion has a different weight on your shoulders, making you feel almost incapable of making a decision. You have given your all to this company, during the years that you’ve been working here - you have worked many extra hours, more than you were supposed to, even taking a series of work projects home, to finish in the middle of the night, losing all sleep so you could change projects overnight, just because the clients decided so. 

And still, having met so many different people, no one has ever made you feel the way that Lewis does. No matter how wrong this might look, it definitely doesn’t feel wrong inside of you whenever he gets close to you, whenever you hug, when he leans over your chair so you can notice his perfume. And maybe you need to put yourself first for once, instead of continuously giving your all to your work and career. Where does your love life stand in the middle of all this, in the end?

Taking a deep breath, you finally decide to break the uncomfortable silence that felt enough to drown your bodies. 

Fuck it. He’s right, it’s been time already. Give yourself a try, Y/N. - you think to yourself.

- I guess you win, Lewis. And I really do like Italian food. - a smile is attached to your words, feeling the weight of your choice already, scared of what can happen, but still confident about your decision. 

Suddenly, the world stopped for Lewis, feeling that the most subtle glimpse of happiness has spread across his entire body, lifting away all the worries and anxious thoughts that were consuming him lately.

You said yes. You accepted his invitation, he is officially going to take you on a date. The man can’t even believe the words that just left your mouth, letting the widest of smiles finally show up in his face, as he leaves his place from behind your desk, walking over to meet your figure again. 

- Are you being serious? - he whispers, almost afraid of breaking the bright bubble that you got him into, right now. His fingers are careful when reaching for your face, gently caressing your cheek, making you blush while you nod your head ‘yes’ at him.  - Yeah? - he confirms again, earning another nod from you, laced with a loving giggle escaping your lips as he keeps insisting.

- Italian it is, then. Saturday night? I’ll pick you up - Lewis tells you, his chocolate eyes melting into yours as he continuously gets lost in them, leaving him to fight the urge to taste your lips while he’s still caressing your skin.  - I guess we got ourselves a deal, Hamilton - you smile at him, defying the tone by calling him by his last name instead of the first, as you usually did. And somehow, the way you refer to him always makes his eyes darken a little more, his heart feeling hot in his chest, making him gulp, desperate to restrain himself from showing you how badly he wants you. 

Instead, he just nods at you, with a different sparkle covering his eyes now, a fulfilled smile on the man’s features - already wishing for time to pass by faster, eager to see you outside the four walls of your office. 

Inside of your minds, it feels like Saturday takes a while to arrive. Both yearning for the day to finally be here so you could go out together, getting to know the versions of the other that are forced to be kept away when you’re surrounded by a professional environment. 

The weekend finally comes, and while some shy rays of sun are trying to wake you up, the ping on your phone, indicating that you just received a new message, it’s what really pulls you out of your slumber. 

Lewis’ name pops on the screen, and there’s a tingling feeling growing in your belly already, a blush spreading on your cheeks, as if it’s the first time that he texts you. 

‘Good morning, Y/N. I know we’re out of office hours, but I had to email you some important info from the suppliers, about the new pieces we were planning on doing. Please take a look if you can. By the way, wear something fancy tonight. I can’t wait to see you - I already know you’ll look stunning.’ - the text reads, and it amazes you how this man has the ability to make your face burn, stealing a giggle from you even with just a message. 

Sighing softly, you reply back with a simple ‘got it. I’ll check the email asap’ - ignoring his compliment, not wanting to give into his ego that much already. Working on some tasks you had to get done for work, time passed by a little faster, until it’s almost time to get ready for your date with Lewis. 

It’s almost impossible not to feel nervous, and that goes to the both of you. While your heart is racing in your chest, your hands softly trembling when you zip the dress you had chosen for tonight, Lewis is still diving inside his closet. The man who is constantly seen in public events, always causing different reactions with his outfits, is now feeling the pressure to look his absolute best, just for your eyes to see - the most important ones for him.

At 8 pm sharp, your doorbell rings - just as you had agreed. Applying some perfume, you gather your jacket and purse, taking a deep breath before opening the front door of your house. 

Once you do, your eyes fall on Lewis - sharing an anxious smile with you, while slowly eyeing your figure from top to bottom, his gaze burning you already, as he needs to refrain from biting his lip at the sight in front of him. 

If he could have it his way, he would forget all about the dinner reservation that he prepared for the two of you, dying to just dive into your lips, tasting your flavour, finally allowing his hands to freely roam through your silhouette. 

But tonight is about more than just that, it’s about the opportunity to get to know more of you, the secret sides of your personality that you can’t show him during office hours, so the man forces himself to take a deep breath, regaining his senses and trying not to drool at the sight of you - something that he has been forced to do in every single meeting with you, as well. 

- Absolutely stunning, as always, Miss Y/N - the man finally speaks, reaching for your hand to kiss your knuckles like a true gentleman. 

His silliness always makes a smile appear in your features, mentally cursing yourself as you feel your cheeks growing red already. Oh boy, you already know this is going to be a long night. 

- You don’t look too bad yourself, Sir Hamilton - there you go again, playing with his mind with the damn ‘Sir’ title, that always seems to fall from your lips in the most sultry way that Lewis has ever heard.

Both of your insides are already catching fire just at the strong presence of your auras colliding, trying to meet once and for all, only to be interrupted by your will to keep your composures, not letting the little devils on your shoulders to win just yet. 

Opening his arm just a little so you can intertwine your arm with his, the man shows you a wink.

- Ready to go? The restaurant awaits for your gracious presence - both of you laugh in unison at Lewis’ words, who’s slowly feeling some of the anxiety leaving his body for good, growing confident and comfortable the more he makes you laugh with his jokes. 

You knew that the man would bring his up game tonight, but you never expected to have an entire balcony just for yourselves, allowing your eyes to admire the best view of the entire city, while having dinner at one of the most prestigious Italian restaurants in London. 

Your job allows you to live a comfortable life, to travel around the world, to eat at some of the best restaurants there are, but that’s not the most important part of life for you. And tonight, it’s like you don’t even know how to act. 

Sitting at your table, you look around, noticing every detail of your surroundings. The small, romantic candles that are strategically positioned on the table and throughout the entire space you’re staying in.

Lewis sees your eyes wandering around the balcony, admiring the place he booked for the two of you. However, he feels like he’s losing you, craving your attention already, wanting to feel your eyes on him again. So, his fingers gently travel through the table, meeting yours in a soft, deliberate movement. 

Grounding you for a second, bringing you back to reality, to the person in front of you, he finally catches your gaze, giving you a soft smile as his fingers keep touching yours, a small gesture that you are soon to reciprocate, feeling how warm his skin feels when compared to yours, how the night seems to grow quiet while you’re focused in the other’s touch. 

- Hey, you - Lewis says, his tone low and soft, almost slow, as if his brain is trying to decipher the best way to kick off this evening.  - Hey - you giggle softly, feeling shy when compared to the magnitude of the space surrounding you. - There was no need for all this, Lewis. I would’ve been just as happy to have McDonald’s inside your car, parked somewhere where we could see the sunset. - you say, truthfully, feeling slightly out of place at all the fanciness surrounding you. 

You are a simple girl, above all. And Lewis knows it. Throughout these last weeks, he learned how you don’t really care about fame, power, and fancy restaurants. He learned that you would rather have breakfast at your favorite small bakery, next to your house, instead of having a breakfast typical of five star hotels. How the scones he would bring you, would absolutely make your entire day when you were stressed, desperate to go home and find one of your books, cooking your favorite meal just to make you feel a bit more sane. 

He knows that you would be fine with a nice pasta or even just a pizza, better even if you would ask for it in takeaway, eating it with your pajamas on, while watching your favorite show in his company. And that’s one of the infinite things that he loves about you already. But tonight is a special night for the two of you, so he decided to do something different - realizing that you really deserve something as special as you are, in his eyes. 

- I know - he giggles at your idea. - Maybe we can do that on our next date, how about that? 

The tips of your fingers are still intertwining, moving to caress the other’s skin from time to time, even when the waiter puts the dishes in front of you two. It’s a comfortable, small touch, that carries all the meaning of how badly you don’t want to let go of one another. 

- Already thinking about a second date, Hamilton? You don’t even know if you’ll survive this one, yet - you joke, an eyebrow raised at him in a provocative tone, smirking at the way he loses his composure at your wittiness. 

You might be joking, but Lewis knows that you’re right. He feels himself on the verge of losing his sanity just by the way your hands are connected, he needs to force his brain to stay in this moment, and refusing to picture where this night might take you two, feeling like he could run out of air if he gets to feel more than just your hand in his. 

- You’re right, Miss. But I plan on making it out alive, I plan on both of us enjoying tonight as much as possible without killing each other in the process. And maybe we can repeat these sorts of events, no? Amongst other things… - he cracks a bit, feeling his cheeks growing a bit warmer as well, trying to disguise it with a sip on his cup of wine. 

You might repeat it, if tonight feels worth the second part to everything that’s playing in your mind so far. It’s like your fingers are tingling to get Lewis out of the jacket that’s safely covering his tattoos, his toned chest, the strong arms that you just picture wrapped around you, while his plump lips are attached to your neck - making a devilish grin appear in your face the more you pay attention to your thoughts while looking at the man in front of you.

The way you two get along so well, as if you’ve been friends for years, amazes you. How the conversation seems to flow so effortlessly, laughs, giggles and blushing cheeks erupting between your figures, making the night seem warmer, cozier, away from all the pressure that once was felt in the pit of your stomachs.

It’s like the world outside doesn’t exist. As if you don’t have to worry about your work duties, about you and Lewis being business partners, your brain not even thinking about your boss and how he would completely lose his mind if he found out that you and Lewis Hamilton are out on a date, on this Saturday night. Tonight, none of that matters to you.

As time passes by, the touches between your frames start longing for more, the tips of your digits touching, slowly become completely intertwined fingers, trying to feed yourselves off the small crumbs of warmth you can get from the other, when the table insists on distancing your bodies.

Once you two had finished your dishes, Lewis decides to get up, stretching his hand for you to take, carefully welcoming your body closer to his, finally savouring your proximity without a table in between your figures.

There’s not an ounce of shyness pooling in your body anymore, not after feeling so comfortable around the man in front of you - so, you take the first step, gluing your shape to his, until he is wrapping his arms around you, your hands gently caressing his chest through his buttoned up shirt. 

Your eyes don’t leave each other’s features, even with the most breathtaking view of London in front of you - Lewis is everything you want to look at, engraving all his details in you, in the same way he keeps focusing all his attention in you, an enamoured smile splattered all over his face, his hands softly rubbing your back, as if you are the most precious thing he has ever touched. 

- This view is gorgeous - he says, smiling even wider when the sparkle in your gaze matches his.  - It sure is - you agree, making the man lose it a bit more as he feels the intensity growing between your shadows, to the point of becoming absolutely unbearable. 

There they are: the butterflies, flying from your stomach into the air, surrounding you and Lewis, creating an invisible string that just seems to pull your bodies together more and more, as if that was possible - wishing you could melt your skin into his, at this point.

One of the man’s hands leaves your back, finding its place on your cheek, putting a strand of hair behind your ear, giving him more access to your details, carefully touching you, seeing the way you’re suppressing a smile out of embarrassment. 

Burning in desire for each other, you both reach for the other’s lips, almost at the same time, finally giving in to all the building tension on your bodies, that just continued growing for weeks on end. 

With Lewis’ hand safely cupping your face, one of your hands reaches for the man’s neck, both of you holding the other as close as humanly possible, your lips finally savouring each other - getting to taste the sweet cherry that both of you have been craving for so long, dreaming of it to the point of almost driving you insane. 

And now, it’s definitely driving you wild. Your tongues finally meet, clashing together as you explore the other’s mouth, the adventure feeling so new yet so familiar, as if you had known each other’s body for so long, from daydreaming about this moment so much. 

The world completely stopped now. Everything went silent, and it’s just you and Lewis living this fiery moment between your souls, sharing all the emotions and sensations travelling through your bodies with one another. 

Neither of you wants to break the kiss, insisting on remaining connected, even if you’re running out of breath - searching for oxygen in the other, breathing each other’s warmth and passion. 

But once you’re forced to distance your mouths, desperate to catch some air, your lips still long on his skin, caressing his cheek lovingly, as your foreheads remain glued, your noses touching, maintaining the typical eye contact that you two are used to already. 

There’s a moment of silence, but neither of you needs to say anything: your bodies, your connection speaks for yourselves, and the infatuated smiles on both your faces aligns with the soft eyes, caring touches as you try to come even closer to each other, Lewis reaching out to hold you safely in his arms again. 

It definitely doesn’t feel real. After dreaming about it for so many weeks, it finally happened - your lips finally met, in an ardent, burning reunion that held all the desperation travelling between your bodies since the first time you saw each other, after all the times where your mouths threatened to kiss on their own will. 

Lewis is in awe, completely in love with you, without a doubt that you are everything that he wants, everything he needs, giving him all the feelings he wants to keep close to his heart, sensing the way they make his heart beat faster, the type of adrenaline that he only finds when he’s near you. 

Without enough words to describe this moment, the man reaches to catch your lips in his again, giving you another long kiss, showing you how badly he wanted this to happen, how many times he pictured this moment, and how perfect it is in reality, way better than any dream he could have while being alone in between the sheets of his cold bed. 

- Your lips are sweeter than any scone we could have at your office - he jokes, after pecking your lips a few more times. 

This is the type of intimacy that you never had with anyone else in your life - the type of connection that you can feel in your soul, reaching the darkest corners of your insides, not leaving one single part of you unnoticed, seeing you in your entirety. 

Breaking the tension between your bodies, you feel yourself relaxing as you wrap your arms around his neck now, allowing a chuckle to escape your lips as you roll your eyes playfully at his words. 

- You’re such a prick - you complement his inside joke, seeing the way he feels comfortable to laugh out loud now, feeling his shoulders shake under your touch, his giggles being enough to make flowers erupt inside of you, leading to new butterflies to appear.  - Yeah, but you seem to like it quite a lot - he whispers teasingly, capturing your lips in his again, in a sloppy yet hungry kiss, trying his best to hold all the impatience running through him at the anticipation of having more of you. 

But he can only do so much, so Lewis’ hands slowly travel down your waist, testing the waters at the way you react when he reaches for your bum, gently rubbing it while you are one who looks for his mouth now, growing needier for him just as much. He smirks into the kiss, hearing the almost unnoticeable little hums that you let out as his hands continue touching your backside, grabbing your ass hungrily as he deepens the kiss again - showing you how he can’t wait to get out of here. 

However, he still has some remarks to make. Admiring the figure in front of him, his eyes land on the navy blue dress that you carefully choose for tonight, one that hugs your body perfectly, leaving very little to his imagination, but one that desperately leaves him wanting more and more from this date.

- You look divine in this dress, darlin’ - he says sweetly, with a hint of seductiveness in his tone, while his hands are still dedicated to your ass, through the fabric of your outfit. 

You know, that’s why you picked it for this date. You were sure that it would drive Lewis mad, and you can’t control the knowing smirk that shows up on your features when he compliments you. And finally, you decide to play your last card:

- What if I told you that I only chose it so you could take it off? - you seductively whisper in his ear, reaching to bite his ear lobe, chanting victory in your head as you notice the way he physically reacts to your words: gulping, his hands tighten the hold on your bum, unable to hold himself back from landing a cheeky little slap on your left ass cheek, before growing serious and asking you “what are we waiting for, then?”

With fire in your eyes, you leave the restaurant, hand in hand with the man whose perfume keeps igniting a burning desire inside of you, making it almost impossible for you to keep track of everything that’s happening around you.

The atmosphere between you two could set everything ablaze inside the car, as you steal glances at each other’s features, silly smiles showing from time to time, mixed with soft, teasing giggles that can be heard from time to time - while you notice the way Lewis is gripping the steering wheel harder, the more your hand insists on travelling through his leg, your lips ghosting on the skin of his neck, making him desperately loosen up the tie that was keeping his outfit and composure all together.

It feels like the car ride back to his place is taking forever, especially in his mind, having you teasing him during the entire time, exploding with anticipation as he finally gets to park his car inside the garage.

The sync you two share could be felt from miles away, so you are both fast to leave the car, your bodies meeting again as Lewis holds you closer to him one more time, your lips hungry for the other’s, almost as if you can’t breathe without the air he brings to your lungs, anymore. 

When his hand snakes around your neck, bringing your face closer so he can deepen the kiss, it’s like everything else stops, existing in this moment just the two of you, in a deserted world that’s just inhabited by the two hungry souls inside of your bodies. 

Sloppily walking to the door, the man can barely pick the right key, struggling to leave your lips untouched, untasted by his own, longing to be close to you as soon as he needs to break the kiss, even for just a second. 

Closing the door behind you, it’s like both of you can feel the weight of all the invisible ties that were once holding you down, leaving your figures. Finally, in between four safe walls that allow the two of you to do everything you want, without any pressure, masks, disguises, having the freedom to be honest with yourselves, with your dreams, needs and desires. 

With your back pressed against the door, your mouths connect again, the passion emanating from your lips, so strongly that it can be felt through each goosebump showing in your skin, your touch making electricity running in Lewis’ veins.

Growing impatient, the man picks you up, his toned arms holding your shape like it’s nothing, his mouth exploring down the skin of your neck while you’re sighing lightly, biting your own lip when realizing how lucky you got tonight. 

His jacket falls to the floor just before he starts carrying you to his room, your fingers playing with the tie that’s still loosely hanging around his neck, smirking at him, both anticipating the following moments. 

Once your feet feel the floor again, you pull him by the tie, connecting your bodies as your fingers start to untie the buttons of his shirt, reading him between the fire mirroring his gaze on you.

He’s enticed by you, by your touch, by the way you seem to make the most powerful wave crash in his body, soul, while seeming to calm him down at the same time, your soft skin soothing all his nerves, wanting to feel more of you, delving himself in the depths of everything you are, everything that you mean to him. 

Once his upper body is in full display for you, your eyes take a second to admire the sight, your hand shamelessly reaching to feel his muscles, to travel between every crevice of his abs, holding yourself to his biceps as if you are on the verge of losing your balance, due to his presence. 

Reaching for you, his hands land on your hips, taking a moment to appreciate you, your beauty, your intensity, the fact that you are, finally, here with him. The tip of his nose nudges yours gently, making a smile appear in both of your faces, and the sparkle in his eyes is noticeable as he shares a loving gaze with you. 

Connecting your lips once more, he quickly distances your mouth, dedicating himself to the skin of your neck, using all his endless time on you, not wanting to rush this moment, wanting to properly taste you, savour the sweetness of your skin, warming himself through you, sharing the connection that’s bonding you together. 

You lean your head back slowly, silently giving him more access to your skin, humming and whining quietly when he finds your sweet spot - your soft sounds giving him the hint, that he happily takes, committing some more minutes to the places that make your back arch, the warmth of his tongue being enough to make you spiral just by feeling him licking the favourite places of your skin. 

His left hand is carefully cupping your face, moving your neck gently as he switches the places he wants to focus on, while his right one is still safely holding your hip, keeping you in place so he can explore your collarbone, landing open mouth, wet yet soft, sweet kisses everywhere he can reach - your shoulder, the part of your chest that your cleavage allows his lips to reach. 

Your hands softly touch his muscles, noticing how they seem to tense the more he grows desperate to get you out of your dress, ready to destroy the barrier that the fabric keeps representing between your bodies, craving to see you in your entirety, anxious to show you just how badly he wants you, needs you. 

Finally, his hands roam your back, reaching for the zip of your dress, slowly undoing it in a matter of seconds - looking at the excited expression in your face that you can’t seem to hide.

Tonight is all about you, for him. He wants to make the most of it, for both of you, hoping he will be able to show you everything you make him feel, how you hold the power to make his heart pump blood faster into his veins, making him weak at the knees everything your hand touches his.

As his hands slowly slide the dress down your body, his lips follow the movement, landing countless amounts of the softest kisses he possibly can give to the bits of skin that he’s slowly unveiling for his eyes, his fingers feeling every curve of your shape that soon comes into full display for the man. 

You feel the warmth of his mouth in between your breasts, down your stomach, one of your hands reaching for his braids, caressing his scalp as he continues dedicated to your skin, to the point of getting on his knees once the dress completely falls to the floor. 

He looks up at you, his big, chocolate, sweet eyes focused on your face, trading glances as he continues to land kisses on your upper thigh, your hip, his fingers caressing your legs, feeling addicted to how soft you feel to the touch, how your perfume seems to make him feel even more obsessed with you. 

Getting up and undoing his pants, letting them fall to the floor as well, he finally meets your body without barriers, your figures gluing to each other again as soon as your mouths touch again, your hands diving in the other’s shape, discovering every corner of the body that you both have been dreaming about incessantly. 

His touch is absolutely lethal. Neck kisser, hips grabber, travelling through your body with just a one way ticket - not planning on coming back after touching heaven with his bare hands.

No heels, no dress, you’re just in your skin, just like Lewis, having the thin fabric of your underwear separating your cores, but feeling how ready he is for you when he finally lays you on the bed, softly grazing his bulge on your center, groaning in between the fight that your tongues keep enduring - opening your legs wider for the man that’s still trying to refrain from moving too much, wanting to enjoy each second of having you all to himself.

Still, you probably feel even more impatient than him, eager to finally get what you came here for, so your nails softly graze the skin on his back, reaching for the band of his boxers, letting him know how badly you want to feel him.

- Eager, aren’t we? - he jokes lightly, his teeth biting your bottom lip gently, hearing the needy whines erupting from your body as you give him puppy eyes. - As if you don’t want me just as much, Sir - fuck, maybe you should stop playing with his head. But maybe you are way too determined to end this night with a victory, desperate to feel him, all the details of his body, wanting to forget about life and all the problems clouding your mind for a moment, while he is making you moan out of pleasure. 

He chuckles slightly at your provocation, ready to completely lose control, so he can finally show you how you have been playing with fire all this time - more than prepared for his flames to connect with yours, burning you two together as you allow your figures to be consumed by the insatiable blaze of pleasure erupting between you. 

But if that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get. Lewis wants to give you everything you ask him for, willing to run around the entire world to grant all your wishes - just so he can reciprocate the immense feelings and sensations that you create on his body and mind.

And if he was feeling a bit nervous in the early evening, right before dinner, now the heat running through his veins makes him feel like he’s being completely electrified by your silhouette, your gaze, your touch - and oh girl, you have no idea what you’re in for, tonight. 

His hand lazily travels down your body, reaching for your panties, his fingers teasingly playing with the band, while his lips finally wrap around one of your nipples, his tongue caressing it until goosebumps are dressing your skin again. 

Your sounds are soft, sweet - traveling to Lewis’ mind, making him feel even weaker than he already is, wanting nothing more than to continue to listen to your moans and whines throughout the entire night. 

Ignoring the band of your underwear, he decides to give in to your pleas - but just a little bit, as his digits slowly start to rub you through the fabric that’s still covering your core. And still, you feel your entire body being set on fire, by the pressure that he strategically applies when reaching your bundle of nerves, his lips still sucking on your right nipple as if the man’s life depends on it. 

His fingers feel how wet you are by now, how ready you are to take him - all of him, wanting his body to possess yours, to cloud your mind until you even forget about your own name. The thoughts travelling through his mind, mixed with the sensations of your wetness, your fingers slightly pulling on his braids, your whines, begging him to touch you more, to give you more, to finally give his all to you, are enough to drive him absolutely wild. 

  Lewis is naturally a dominant man, so the more you open your legs for him, your own fingers trying to grab the band of your panties, desperate to get rid of them, he is the one holding your wrists gently, taking your breath away with another kiss to your lips - while his hands finally reach for your underwear, ripping the fabric apart so you don’t even have to worry about sliding them down your legs.

His action makes a smirk appear in your face, wrapping your lips around his tongue, sucking it lightly as your hand pulls his face even closer to yours - silently letting him know how you like it rough, how you had waited long enough for this moment, how you’re done with the teasing, your fingers reaching for the shape of his hard dick in his boxers, reminding him how he needs to get rid of those, as well. 

Grunting in your mouth, he gets the hint, using all his strength to abandon your figure on the mattress, feeling his skin growing colder as he finally gets up, moving to grab a condom from the bedside table, sharing a teasing, intense gaze with you as his own underwear leaves his body, now. 

His dick looks painfully hard, making drool form in your mouth at the sight, seeing how his hand safely wraps around his member, hissing as he touches himself lightly. Biting his lip, his eyes never leave yours, both losing your minds at a distance, showing just how needy you two are feeling for your bodies to finally merge together. 

Putting on the condom, Lewis meets you on the bed again with a different side of him showing, now. He wants you, all of you, and he wants to give you everything you wish for this moment, forgetting about the hours, the fact that tomorrow will arrive either way - focusing only on this night with you, putting to the side all the different thoughts about an entire life with you, for once. 

He collects some of your wetness with his tip for some seconds, your foreheads touching as your eyes speak for yourselves, your lips savouring the other’s as he gently pushed himself inside of you. 

Both breathing out the air that you were holding in out of anticipation, Lewis’ arms wrap around your figure, bear hugging you so he can feel you closer, while you’re wrapping your legs tighter around the man’s waist.

Giving you a moment to adjust to his size, his lips are quick to adorn your entire face with kisses, wanting to make it as pleasurable and easy for you as possible, in need to feel your body melting with his, so you can feel as carefree as you can. 

With your lips meeting again, the makeout session between your bodies grows hotter and needier, letting him know that he can move, that he desperately needs to move, as your arms snake around his neck, touching his hair, nails grazing on the skin of his shoulders. 

Feeling your warmth and sliding into your wetness is enough for Lewis to let out the hungry man inside of him escape. Starting off slow, he really wants to take his time with you, but the more you groan in his ear, pulling on his braids, the more he feels you are growing needier for more action, more friction, encouraging him to move until sparks are flying from your frames. 

Focusing on the feeling of his hard dick pressing your walls, to the point of making you see stars, you beg him for more, definitely not wanting him to take it slow with you, not wanting to feel like you are making love in this night that reeks of desperate sex, made to solutionate the heat erupting from the both of you, nothing else. 

The more Lewis picks up his pace, the more your sounds grow audible, echoing through the four walls surrounding your bodies, his mouth attached to the sweetest spot on your neck - licking it, sucking on it until purple bruises are showing up on your skin, making him smirk to himself at the sight, the closest he will ever be to mark you as his. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he fucks you rougher, feeling the way his cock keeps hitting your favourite spot, your moans mixing with the sound of your skin clapping, your hips meeting as you try to move your waist, taking him the best you can. 

Pumping pleasure into your veins, Lewis can’t hold back his own whines and groans, feeling your nails scratching their way down his back, your walls wrapping around him tightly, driving the man absolutely insane as he hides his face in the crook of your neck - only for you to pull him by the braids, connecting your lips in a hot kiss again, your tongues playing with each other until saliva is dripping down your chins. 

It’s hot, sensual, needy, loud, rough, and you don’t know how much more you can take, feeling a bubble slowly growing in the pit of your stomach, as he keeps hitting your g-spot effortlessly, making sure you won’t forget about tonight.

In the middle of his rough, accelerated thrusts, he still takes some time to kiss your cheeks softly, to compliment you, letting you know how good you feel, how you are taking him so well - words that you don’t pay enough attention to reply to. 

You feel yourself on the verge of hitting your climax, growing desperate at the way he keeps moving inside of you - fast, rough, desperate, almost writing his name on your skin, as his lips keep sucking bruises on your chest, his hands travelling through your figure sensually. 

Even if your mind is turning blank already, your pussy throbbing and clenching around his dick, you still try to use all your strength to cut it off, to distance his body from yours, noticing how Lewis immediately stops his movements once he feels your hands on his chest, slightly pushing him away - leaving him with furrowed eyebrows, a confused look on his face. 

- Did I do something wrong? - he immediately asks, only to be shushed with your index finger touching his lips. 

A sultry smirk is covering your features, taking control of the situation now, as you roll Lewis’ body over, so he can lay on his back. Kissing his entire chest, that’s moving up and down as the man tries to catch his breath, you soon find the path back to his mouth, licking his lips softly, only to be met with his hunger once again - his tongue meeting yours halfway. 

He’s enticed by your actions, curious to see what move you’ll put out now, and your movements definitely surprise him. 

Your hand reaches for his dick, wiggling your eyebrows at him once you slowly start to remove the condom from his member - seeing how his eyes widen, his voice calling your name softly yet sternly, trying to catch your attention, so you won’t do it. 

Shushing his troubled mind with another kiss, you let him know that it’s okay, that you have everything under control - winking at the man in front of you, your fingers working to finally release his cock from the condom wrapped around it. 

Now, you are in control, and you feel the most powerful ever when you move to straddle Lewis - only to see him biting his lip again at the view, his hands travelling up and down your sides, stopping at your boobs so he can pay some attention to them, massaging them until he feels you melting at his touch again.

But the melting doesn’t last long. You were so close to your orgasm, but this isn’t how you want tonight to end - in a bear hug, kissing Lewis as you reach your highs, acting like a couple all along. You. Are. Not. Making. Love. 

Turning your back to him, you work your magic, moving so you can slowly connect with him again, sinking down on his dick in a reverse cowgirl moment. You can’t see it, but Lewis is biting his lip again at the sight of your ass in full display for him, feeling his hands touching your ass cheeks before you start moving. 

But this isn’t your first rodeo, and Lewis needs to understand that. Leaning your body so you can hold yourself to his ankles, you start moving your hips up and down, in a seesaw movement that has the man whimpering under your figure in minutes. 

Feeling each other raw only makes your bodies feel hotter, his member diving in your ocean, feeling each inch of your wetness dripping down his shaft the more you bounce on him, sensing how incredibly warm and tight you are for him - leaving him to hold your hips strongly as he admires your silhouette getting all the pleasure from his body, as the man meets your movements, thrusting up inside your needy cunt, harder and faster by the minute. 

On the other hand, you don’t know how you are keeping it together, being left completely speechless at the way Lewis manages to fuck you so good from this new angle you just found, making stars cloud your brain, not being able to say anything besides the filthy, loud moans leaving your throat right now, as you feel every vein of his hard dick moving in your walls, so fast and rough that you know that he is engraving every detail of his dick inside of your pussy, at this point. 

But this is what you wanted all along, and you can’t hide the victorious smile on your face - that you are happy that Lewis can’t see, right now. Your brain keeps cheering at the way you seem to have him wrapped around your finger, having him doing everything you want, allowing you to use him for your pleasure - something that you plan on keeping up.

For you, this isn’t making love, for Lewis, it’s exactly the opposite: if love is fire, you definitely have a lot of flame - especially to set him alight. And that’s how, minutes later, you are whining at the way the tip of his dick purposely hits your g-spot again, feeling so full of his cock that you never want him to stop, this sensation to end, feeding all your dreams and wildest fantasies with him, now. 

You beg him not to stop, and the man’s hand travels up your spine, making you shiver, only for his fingers to intertwine with your hair, making you arch your back in his direction, his other hand on your hip, almost trying to hold you in place as you continuously sink on his cock, drenching him with your juices as you feel the bubble in your stomach almost bursting.

- Touch yourself, baby girl. You wanted me to be rough? Here you go. Now do as I say - his thick, hoarse voice says, entering your ears and travelling through your veins almost with immediate control over your movements, hearing him moan as he notices your hand snaking between your legs.

Your fingers feel your wetness as soon as you reach for your clit, touching yourself in a way that you know so well now, feeling so familiar yet so new as you try to focus on your movements while Lewis’ dick is still buried deep inside of you, not letting you stop for a second. 

Still, you circle your fingers around your pearl, rubbing the juices that are dripping out of your cunt on it, your digits almost escaping your favourite spot to touch at how wet you are, now. 

Your loud moans suddenly disappear, leaving you with just small, needy whimpers to escape from time to time as you focus on your pleasure, on touching yourself as your body starts clenching again, your muscles growing stiff as you can see your release so close already, chasing it the more you rub your clit, as if your life depends on it. 

With a final, deep thrust coming from him, you final hit your high, hearing Lewis moaning behind you as he continues buried inside of your pulsing cunt, emptying inside of you - just how you wanted, exactly how you begged him to do some seconds ago, feeling his cock twitching in between your walls, the more he milks his seed inside of you. 

Regaining your breaths, soon you’re leaving your place on top of him, realizing how his arms are already open, waiting for you to join him. The sight makes a genuine smile appear in your face, lying your head in his chest as you both sigh, your body focusing on the way his arms immediately wrap around your figure, his lips kissing your sweaty forehead, his gentle eyes looking at you as if you are the purest thing he has ever seen - even after all the filthiness that filled this room for the last hour or so. 

The space surrounding you two is comfortable, almost as if it was meant to be, leaving very little space for words, both of you focusing on the other’s gentle touch instead, and the way you just made each other feel. And the soft warmth erupting from his shape is enough to put you to sleep in minutes, especially after feeling your body so tired and sore from the latest activities that took place in today’s agenda. 

Waking up to soft kisses landing on your forehead, some fingers gently playing with your hair, you open your eyes to an adorable Lewis, who's looking down at you with a loving smile plastered all over his face, whispering a soft ‘morning, darlin’ to you.

Last night exceeded all his expectations. To him, it was way more than just sex - it was the common share of the connection that makes your bodies merge into one, taking each other to heaven and back in a matter of minutes, leaving him to feel some butterflies tingling in his stomach just as he reminds himself of how it feels to kiss your sweet lips, how his hands seem to belong glued to your silhouette, travelling through your body during sex, and rubbing your back softly, playing with your hair right after, so he can make you feel loved and desired.

He has been awake for a while now, admiring your peaceful figure while his mind came up with ideas to surprise you. The man wanted to get up, go to your favourite bakery to grab the infamous scones you always share, and maybe even pick some flowers on the way home, so he could see your shy smile on your sleepy features, like he has been dreaming about for so long. 

But, the way you looked so beautiful, so safe and protected to rest on his chest, made him give in to his plans, forgetting about pastries and flowers, acting selfish one more time so he could enjoy every second of having you nestled in him, feeling you so close to the point of even thinking about tattooing your moles in his veins.

Smiling back at him, your lips connect for the first time this morning, making sparkles appear one more time - something that you would pray it wouldn’t happen again. But, shrugging it off, your hand caresses his cheek softly, as you take a deep breath before lying further more into his chest, wanting to feel him closer too. 

Last night was incredible - of course it was. Lewis touched you in ways that no other guy ever did, changing your perspective of desire, neediness, showing how a man acts if he really wants you. 

You know you are not the one for him, you could never be. To be honest, you just wanted to be one of his girls, even for one night, so you could kill the fire erupting between your bodies, finally getting a taste of each other. 

But, as you wake up, the feeling of cuddling him, of being safely wrapped in his eyes, makes your heart shift a little more.

- Never thought you were the cuddle type - you break the silence, a curious smile on your face as you notice his eyebrows furrowing almost in a comical manner. - Oh, baby girl, there’s a lot of things that you don’t know about me yet - he chuckles, kissing your temple as his words make you stare at the horizon for a second.  - Yet? - you can’t stop your mouth, the question escaping your lips before you could even process it.

But instead of considering your reaction weird, he just gives you an honest smile before replying.

- Uhum. I plan on seeing you again, and again, and again - he states confidently, landing a soft kiss on your lips in between each repeated word, sealing his promise. 

Leaving your lips, his mouth is slowly starting to travel down your body again, his eyes shining as he looks up at you while he kisses your chest, moving to the skin of your stomach in seconds.

As much as you want this, there’s a bitter voice in the back of your head, taking you out of the transe that Lewis’ touch always gets you in, forcing you to interrupt his loving actions. 

- You know we shouldn’t do this - you say insecurely, your voice small when compared to the way he makes you feel so powerful and important to him.

He is fast to stop his actions, moving his body to be by your side again, noticing how your eyes look big and even somewhat scared in your face. He knows what’s in your mind: if your boss finds out about any of this, your job will be on the line, and you don’t want to flush your career down the drain because of a man. 

Still, he tries to lighten up the mood, nudging the tip of his nose with yours gently, until he sees a small smile threatening to appear on the corners of your lips.

- Shouldn’t we? This feels pretty right to me - he says, kissing your lips with a light aura surrounding him, almost as if he can send some of that tranquility to you.  - But we are business partners, Lewis… - you try to argue, only to be met with a rejecting look on his face, shaking his head ‘no’ at what you’re trying to imply. - Stop. - I’m not doing anything - you try to reason with him, only for him to wrap his arms tighter around your figure, nestling you in his chest again. - You’re trying to find excuses for what we did. Stop. Nobody cares if we’re business partners, please stop thinking about how your boss won’t be happy if he finds out about us. This happened because we both want each other - he says, in between sultry kisses to your lips.

And just like that, he shushes away all your fears, wrapping you in a soft, easy bubble of love. Soon enough, his arms are picking you up from the bed in bridal style, walking over to the bathroom so you two can have a shower.

It’s weird, but soothing - the way he makes you feel, how you two are so comfortable around each other, even while being naked without having sex, seeing how he hugs you from behind as the water dripping on your skins warms both of your bodies.

- Thank god it’s sunday and I get to have you all to myself - he says in your ear, kissing your shoulder softly, never wanting to let go of you.

Yeah, thank god for the F1 breaks and weekends without work, that help you relax in the comfort of Lewis’ arms, almost making you believe that you could get used to this on a daily basis. 

The shower is filled with laughs, gentle touches, loving kisses, lots of music playing in the background, making you forget about how this man almost drove you to insanity due to the way he touched your body last night - definitely leaving marks on your figure that will forbid you from forgetting about him for some days. 

Still, his touch is as soft as ever when he’s rubbing your back, your belly, your legs, insisting on kissing your features nonstop, voicing out loud how you’re the most gorgeous woman he has ever seen, making you blush while you try to cover your pink cheeks from him. 

- I’m going to go get dressed, baby. Take your time, okay? I don’t want you to rush - Lewis informs you, pecking your lips once more before leaving the shower, with a different plan in mind. 

You stay there for a bit more, hoping the warm water can help you soothe the sore sensation in between your legs - and also leaving you with some time alone to think about everything that happened, and how the pet name he just used made a tingling sensation erupt through your entire body. Maybe you like this, maybe you could really get used to this, to see him more, to have more soft moments by his side, besides the sex scenes that you still envision to have with him. 

Putting on a tracksuit, Lewis leaves his house for some minutes, trying to make his plan work now. Rushing, the man goes to the closest bakery, buying some scones, cookies, croissants and a bit of everything that he can see on display, really - not knowing if you are craving something different for breakfast today. 

The man wanted to stick to his initial plan, but the line at the bakery was longer than he expected, and he starts growing scared that you might have left the shower already. So, on the way back home, he picks a small flower from one of his neighbours’ neatly kept vase. 

Stepping out of the shower, you call Lewis’ name, only to be met with silence. Walking around the house, you find it weird that it’s empty, you being the only soul inside of the space right now. There’s a hint of disappointment hitting your heart right now, you can’t lie. You don’t know why he left, why he would leave you alone at his own place, but maybe this is just a sign that you can’t get used to this on a daily basis. 

“It was a fun night, and that’s all it was” - you think to yourself, moving to put your dress from last night back on, a frown on your face as you gather your belongings, getting ready to leave this house as well. 

As you are searching for your purse in the living room, not knowing where you put it in the middle of all the events that took place last night, the front door swings open, startling you as you are met with Lewis’ figure again.

His eyes grow a bit when he sees you in your dress again, his eyebrows furrowing before speaking.

- Are you leaving, love? - he asks quietly, almost as if the thought of spending the day away from you is making him sad already.  - Well, you left as well, so I thought it was a hint for me to go - you try to explain, stuttering a bit at how nervous his presence is making you feel again, and you can’t quite figure out why.

Surprised by your words, he walks over to you.

- A hint? Baby, I went to get us breakfast! - he shows you the bag from the bakery. - Got us scones, of course, some croissants, cookies, and a bunch of other things because I didn’t know what you wanted - now it’s his turn to give you a nervous smile, handing you the small purple flower that he picked for you. - And this is for you. 

How does he have this incessant power in himself to soften up your stone cold heart so much? To the point of almost feeling small tears tingling in your eyes, forcing you to push them away as you take the flower from his hand, smiling like a teenager, feeling the damn crimson painting your cheeks one more time. 

His fingers caress your cheek lovingly, almost afraid of seeing you run away if he gets too close. But still, he lets his feelings show, doing what his heart keeps begging him to do.

- Please don’t go, baby. We don’t have much time just to ourselves outside your office, and today it’s sunday… Unless you don’t want to spend the day with me and you really want to leave, of course - he is rambling, his eyes looking into yours, reading you as another smile erupts from your face, taking action to kiss his lips. - I was really craving a croissant and a coffee - you joke, noticing the relieved sigh that escapes his body, sharing another enamoured smile with you. - Choose a t-shirt from my closet, love. I’ll set the table.

It’s been a while since you’ve had such a nice, carefree, light sunday, feeling safe enough to be wrapped in someone’s arms as you share scones and kisses, cuddling up on the sofa while watching silly movies and sharing funny life stories in the middle of it. 

And in between all the worries that show up from time to time, there’s still something that erupts inside of you - something stronger than all the intrusive thoughts that might try to ruin your moments with Lewis. Something that shows you how much you enjoy the time spent by his side, in a way that you never thought you would. 

It even leaves you to believe that, in a parallel world, if things maintain this level of intensity between you two, you might even allow yourself to open up a little more to the man that’s right in front of you - cooking dinner as he shamelessly dances and sings to his playlist, making the most genuines smiles erupt from your figure, ones that you definitely hadn’t seen in a long, long time. 

[alicenpai]

my piece for the Hemisphere: a Witch Hat Atelier seasons themed zine! thank you for having me! they're having a leftovers sale until stock runs out 🖋🍀🌷🍁❄🌧 WIPs + inspiration board + symbolism under the cut! got some requests to put this on my inprnt! the site has sales very often & you can grab it as a small or big size print.

I had a pretty good idea of the composition from the get-go. I took inspiration from art nouveau (primarily Alphonse Mucha), German fairy tales, and some 1920s perfume ads. I wanted the girls to look like fairies, akin to The Root Children by Sibylle von Olfers.

Olly just didn't work out in this drawing due to time restraints. I do love him very much though.

I actually kinda stopped making illustrations like these (including the TGAA/DGS tarot card + TGAA/DGS zine pieces a while back) because they were starting to get very hard on my arm, as I had an RSI (repetitive strain injury) a few years back during school. (Not putting the onus on the zines at all ofc! I genuinely love working with zine projects! it's def a me thing WAHAHAHA. my style was getting too anime and too detailed for my liking and everything was just taking forever to finish ngl. but I didn't have time to experiment with a more simple style outside of all of my deadlines)

I think that realizing you need to stop is okay. It's something that Shirahama teaches us in her story and I want to learn to take it to heart.

---

MILD SPOILERS AHEAD (for those who havent read the story I guess)

each character's symbolism:

- Coco - spring, clovers - Coco is the quintessential spring girl, and I wanted her to symbolize new beginnings, and oh boy did Coco bring a big one. The four leaf clover in particular symbolizes luck and good fortune - to some characters, Coco may have brought fortune, to others her presence brings misfortune, take that as you will.

- Tetia - summer, gladiolus - the name "gladiolus" comes from the Latin word "gladius", meaning "sword", based on the shape of the flower. you can interpret it as "you pierce my heart", perfect for a girl like Tetia, who has a contagious energy, with a romantic and grandiose nature.

- Agott - autumn, marigold - I read somewhere marigolds symbolize strength and power, perfect for our little magical powerhouse Agott. They can also symbolize jealousy (yellow flowers in particular have this association), which reflects on her rivalry with Coco in the beginning.

- Riche - winter, snowdrop - The white color of snowdrops has a strong connotation to innocence, which reflects on Riche's wish to stay a child forever. It can also symbolize rebirth and new beginnings (like Coco's clovers), as the snowdrop is the first flower to bloom in the spring, when the snow has not yet melted. I wanted the concept of "rebirth" to associate with Riche's friendship with Euini, and of his sort of "rebirth" into a new being.

- Qifrey - he does not have a flower per se, but as the caregiver and educator of the four girls, he represents the rainy season - precipitation being the one thing that binds all of these seasons together. (Note some areas of the world do not have a rainy season like where I live). I think somewhere along the line I wanted to put hydrangeas behind him, to really bring out the "rainy" theme, but the thought probably got lost somewhere in translation...

- bg flowers - honestly I just picked whatever. white lily, daffodil, hydrangea, zinnia, tulip

[angel-eyes05]

to leave the warmest bed i've ever known

pairing: spiderwoman!reader x miguel o’hara 

summary: after miguel’s fight with miles, you confront him in his office

warnings: this whole thing is basically one big argument there’s SO much angst, implied suicide attempt, HUGE ATSV SPOILERS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS MOVIE, im projecting a little in some parts of this ngl (i cried writing a certain section of this, you'll know it when you read it lmao), mentions and descriptions of blood, gore, and death

word count:  4.1k

notes: i watched the movie yesterday…and miguel is on my mind. but i remember reading this namor x reader fanfic after i watched wakanda forever of a similar idea to this and i loved it so this is HEAVILY inspired by that fic, but just make it miguel. i would link it but ngl that was so long ago and i dont remember the author. if i end up finding it again ill put it here. also, just pretend miguel has been doing this whole spider society thing for a couple of years at least, it just needs to work like that for this ik its probably not canon but just roll with it lmao. and yes the title is a taylor swift lyric im so glad you noticed (im so sorry she's in my brain rn with the eras tour)

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The anger boiled up inside your chest as you stormed your way across the lobby. Hundreds of different Spider-Man variants were scattered across the area, some more injured than the others. It sickened you sometimes. How he had so many people under his grasp and just decided to throw some of them at the walls sometimes, not caring how hard they hit the floor because they were all just ammo to him. How despite his denials of it, that’s probably what your role was to him as well. Nothing more than a bullet in his massive machine gun.

You normally tried not to think about it, how his determination towards his goal sometimes meant lack of care for others. But this time he had just gone too far. You always had a soft spot for Miles, watching closely on him whenever Miguel would let you go though scanners of all the different variants. You admired his struggle, but eventual success to taking up the previous Peter’s mantle, and always hated how Miguel talked about him. You knew there was no way Miles could’ve asked for any of this. For the pressures and struggles of being a Spider-Man, for everything causing such a strained relationship with his parents, for the death of his uncle, and for what will be the eventual death of his father. You definitely didn’t.

Ok lets do this one last time. Eh, whatever, there’s probably gonna be 50 other introductions after this one so it doesn’t really matter.

Being Earth-837’s Spider-Man has never been easy. Especially since you were bit when you were only 13 (another reason you sympathized with Miles and Gwen). Your life had followed the order of canon events to a perfect T, your older brother killed in a fight with a robber only two months after you were bit. You tried to overcome the burden of your powers by trying to live as normal of a teenage life as possible, but it was mostly in vain, having to give up multiple friendships and relationships in fear of those you love getting hurt. This was only elevated when your boyfriend Peter was murdered in the crossfire of an encounter with Doc Ock. You didn’t understand. You couldn’t. What you had done to deserve all of this. All you did was just be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You wonder sometimes what would happen if someone was in the same place you were when you got bit. If someone else went to the closed down area of that museum and ran into that spider. That stupid spider that ruined your life. Those thoughts slowly started to disappear for a bit. For a few years things were easy. Things seemed like they were finally going in your favor.

You were 25 when it happened. The last canon event. Ever since you were a little girl you hated your mother’s job. Losing nights of sleep over if she would come home or not. She always did though. She was good at her job. Too good though. Good enough to get promoted to police captain, which for who you were, was basically sealing her fate. She saved so many people that day. You were too busy fighting Venom to notice how much collateral damage you were causing in the process. Your mother’s job was to evacuate all the citizens away from the fight. She died shielding a child from incoming debris. A noble way to go. But god was it gruesome. You found her after the fight was over, two metal poles impaling her. One through her stomach and one straight through her face, pools of blood growing bigger below her as she was left there, all the paramedics busy trying to save the heavily injured. You froze when you finally recognized her, unable to at first due to how mutilated her face was from the pole. Suddenly, you were transported back to being a six year old, falling asleep outside the door to your mother’s bedroom so you would know exactly when she would come home. Purposefully falling asleep in her arms so that she couldn’t go anywhere.

When you used the key she had given you to get into her apartment that night, and you slept in her room, desperate to intake anything left of her before she was fully gone. You doused yourself in her perfume so it still felt like she was standing right behind you. You had always loved her smell. The smell of vanilla, curl product, and fancy perfume. They were attached to memories you had of her. Trying on her heels when you were a kid to try and be fancy like her. Smelling her hair in the morning before school to comfort you before she left for work. Despite all of this bringing you comfort, all it really did was cause further denial in your heart. That one day you were gonna hear the keys clacking in the keyhole to your apartment one more time. That’s all you really wanted. You would give everything up in a heartbeat just to hear her police scanner go off one last time. But it wasn’t going to. And it was your fault. Deep down you knew it was. You should’ve done a better job controlling the debris. You had always been a messy fighter, but you didn’t know it was going to mean anything until it was too late. 

How you got up to the top of that building is still a blur to you to this day. But next thing you know, you were looking at the New York City skyline from the very top of the Empire State Building. And at the very edge too. You heard some sounds behind you, but you just decided it was the wind howling from how high up you were. You were just so tired. Everything and everyone you loved was cursed all because of you. And with your mother as the most recent victim, you decided you finally had enough. You took a deep breath, eyes overflowed with water, as you set your foot forward.

Your plummet was interrupted by a sudden contact you felt to your forearm. Shock filled your body as you turned around to look at what had stopped your attempt. The blue hand was massive, nearly wrapping back around onto itself as it held onto you for dear life. You finally looked up at face that the hand belonged to. The mask that covered the massive figure was a strange one. Blue with strange red silhouettes for the eyes. It kind of reminded you of…your own costume? That couldn’t be though there was no way. This must be the afterlife or something. You already jumped and that's why you didn’t remember your way up to the top. This was some kind of creature trying to stop you from jumping down to hell below. His breaths were heavy and loud, almost like he was desperate to stop you. This convinced you that this was real, which caused you to try to escape from his grip. He was stronger than you, and was putting up a huge fight. You were slick though. Once you were out of his hand, you closed your eyes and quickly made your jump. Everything flashed before your eyes. Your brother, Peter, your mom. You were hoping to see them soon. This was very quickly interrupted again when you suddenly stopped falling. Something had attached itself to your stomach. You opened your eyes. A web? This web was much different than yours though. It was glowing a bright, neon orange.

The man was holding onto the end of it tightly with both hands. His mask then disappeared to show his face. His was long, matching how big the rest of his body was, defined cheek bones sticking out. Brown wavy hair slicked back with a few loose strands flying out in the wind. The look of desperation on his face stook out most of all. Why did he care so much? He didn’t know you, and you definitely didn’t know him. “Let me pull you up. Please,” he said to you between shaky pants. You stared at him for a bit before nodding. He slowly pulled you up with the string of his web, each move more careful than the last. As soon as your feet were planted safely back on the roof of the building, he wrapped you up in his massive arms. You appreciated the gesture, but you didn’t return it, still very confused about why he was so concerned. He was so big around your body though, you couldn’t help but feel a little comforted, feeling his still shaky breaths against the hairs of your neck. Soon after, he clicked on some buttons on his neon orange watch and led you into a portal.

The rest is history. You’re grateful he found you that day. It allowed you to meet so many people, Peter B., Jess, Gwen, Hobie, Ben, Pavitr, Margo. They all related to you and you felt like you could share things with them that you couldn’t do with anyone else. You had grown especially close to Peter and Jess, both of them having been in the game for a long time, just like you. They both knew how you felt, having lost so much and growing so tired after so many years. Peter even named you as Mayday’s godmother when she was born, a gesture that caused you to nearly kill him with your hug. Miguel though was different. He wasn’t nearly as social as the rest of your friends, but you found yourself having much more intimate moments with him (in more ways then one). You eventually found out why Miguel was so concerned for you the day you met. He had taken interest in your abilities early into looking for variants for his little “project”, but refrained from roping you into something so dangerous while you were still in your teens.

Once you were old enough though, he started paying more and more attention, hoping to catch you in a fight and recruit you then. But he was always pulled away with more important duties to attend to. That was until he witnessed your canon event. He had seen it happen so many times before through his scanners. It was going to happen. It had to in order for your universe to not collapse in on itself. But for some reason, yours hurt more than the rest to him. Especially how you coped with it. Seeing you wrap yourself up in her blankets and clothes broke his heart. He knew where this would lead to. That’s why he was there that day. To save you. He had to, or he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. You got your own watch immediately, along with your own room in the Spider Society headquarters. He stayed close with you for the first month of you being a member of the team. When he wasn’t out on missions, he was with you. You didn’t really know what to label you two as, but whatever was going on, you liked it. And he did too.

That is until Miles came into the picture. Once Miles was bit, all hell broke loose for Miguel. He was always in some alternate dimension catching some Spider-Man villain who got out and rangled them back over here, falling back over to you more beat up and bruised than the last time. You couldn’t imagine how much stress he was under, the fate of the entire multiverse up to him. You had some ways of helping him relieve his stress, but you wish you could convince him that he wasn’t alone in this. But nothing ever got through to him. He had become distant, aloof even. You tried bringing it up to Jess every so often, but she would just brush it off.

“That’s how he’s always been.” Not to you he hasn’t. This week has been hell though. With Spot making it over to Miles, Miguel had been going into rages all week. You had put up with it for now, but that was all about to stop. Watching how harsh he was being on Miles, throwing so many Spider-Men at an innocent boy, risking all of their lives in the process. Disregarding everything Gwen and Peter were feeling and then throwing Gwen back into her broken world with nothing. He had gone too far. No one else was going to stand up to him about it, so you knew it had to be you. Maybe he would listen, maybe he wouldn’t. It didn’t really matter. He just needed to hear it.

“It’s not worth it you know.” The voice snapped you out of your thoughts, stopping you in your tracks. “You know how stubborn he gets over these things,” said Jess, trying to convince you to save your breath. “I don’t care. I have to at least try,” you responded, monotonically. “I just don’t understand how you can follow him so blindly and not see what he’s doing is wrong.” “Because he isn’t wrong. I don’t know about you, but I’m not just gonna stand by and let some kid’s stupid decisions destroy another Earth,” Jess argued. “He’s just trying to save his dad, I can’t understand how that makes him such a bad person,” you said, finally turning around to face her, shocked when she was closer to you than expected.

“You know exactly why. Don’t be so naive, y/n,” she shot back. “You can’t stop me,” you said staring straight into her. She shrugged. “Then I can’t help you.” She began to walk away. You did to, until you heard her say. “You don’t know how much he cares for you.” You turned around to face her again, but her back was still to you, her head tilted ever so slightly to look at you. “If you really do care for the kid, watch what you say to Miguel right now. Cause you might just give him the final push he needs to do what needs to be done.” You didn’t give her a response, and just simply kept walking. You felt Jess’ eyes on your back as you entered the elevator to get up to Miguel’s office.

The elevator ride up felt longer than it should’ve, as you tried to gather all of your thoughts and emotions together so even if he didn’t listen, your words would still stick with him in some way. You didn’t necessarily want to hurt him (though your fists were telling you otherwise), but you did want him to be aware of what he’s done. Once the doors finally opened, all of that work flew out the window as rage took over your body again, seeing Miguel up there looking at the scanners. The fact that he looked just as normal as he always does made you furious. It’s like nothing happened.

“You know, I could hear you coming in from the lobby,” he said, almost stopping you in your tracks. You hated when he did that. Claiming that he knew what your every move was going to be. Like you were under his control or something. “Yeah, well then you must’ve heard me talking to Jess, which means you know exactly what this is about,” you shot back, stopping to where you could see him perched up there. “Why don’t you just save me the conversation about morality and just come up here and kick my ass already. It’ll save both of us time,” he said, not even taking his eyes off the scanners to look down at you. This only added to your fury. “That’s not what I’m here for Miguel, so don’t you dare try to twist my words here. What you did to that kid was fucked up and you know it.” “Oh yeah, then why didn’t you try to do anything to stop me?” he questioned.

“Because I’m not stupid Miguel. I’m not gonna try to take down hundreds of Spider-Men at once.” “Oh, cause you’re so much better than that?” This wasn’t like him at all. That gentle, kind, and caring Miguel you once knew was gone, taken over by some sort of personal vendetta he had against Miles. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but this all needs to stop before it gets taken too far. You’re getting into a fight you can’t win. That kid’s strong and so are his allies. And if you go any further into this, I won’t be here to help you.” He stayed still and only turned his head to look at you. “And what makes you think that you’re so important to my plan that it’ll fall apart if you leave? Have you really become that pretentious?”

Your body froze. Have I really? No no no, that’s exactly what he wants. If you begin to doubt yourself now, you’ll stay and nothing will change. You knew you were right. He was trying to crumble you down, but you wouldn’t let that happen. “And you really think that one kid is going to ruin something that you’ve been working for for years? How insecure you’ve become.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, turning back away from you. You did the same, wiping off your face in anger. “I hate it when you do tha-,” you said as you turned back around, but were cut off to find Miguel standing there right in front of you. He was close. Too close to your liking, although in any other circumstance you would’ve found this attractive.

He tilted his head up, but his eyes were down staring daggers into yours. You hated how much he tried to make himself seem more superior to you. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he repeated, this time slower as if you were a child. “He’s just a kid Miguel,” you said in a low, quiet voice. “An anomaly. And a dangerous one at that.” “God Miguel, all he wants to do is protect his dad, do you know how insane you sound right now?” you said letting out a slight laugh when you finished. You backed away from him a little. “He doesn’t know how much damage he’ll do with this. Saving his father will only prolong the inevitable. His world will be gone within hours if he does this. All I’m trying to do is make him understand,” he tried to explain. “By trying to kill him.” “You always have to exaggerate the situation,” he said palming his face. “But that’s essentially what you’re trying to do isn’t it? Why not snuff out the problem entirely by taking him out!”

He signed and began to walk away while you were talking, bringing up your anger even more. “Yeah, use all the power you’ve accumulated over the years and just take out the small problem! Except this isn’t just a fly on the wall Miguel. This is a child! An innocent boy who didn’t ask for any of this to happen to him, just like how we didn’t. I get it, I’m sorry that this job is stressful, I really am. But that gives you zero right to act the way you are!” You were screaming at him at this point. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want your emotions to get the best of you. But he was being too stubborn. This was the only way you thought you could get to him. You might not have wanted to, but you needed to hurt him now. It was the only way.

“You can’t be so power blind that you refused to accept the fact that there could be a way around Captain Davis’ death. You said we saved Earth’s before, I’m sure we could do it again.” Your anger only kept rising when he kept walking away and didn’t respond. “This is a personal thing isn’t it?” you asked calmly. You knew it was working now when he stopped walking. “Yeah, it it. You won’t let Miles get his happy ending. Because why should he be pardoned of his burden while the rest of us have suffered so much. While you’ve suffered so much.” The answer to your question was confirmed when Miguel stayed silent. “Just because you didn’t get the life you wanted Miguel, doesn’t mean you have the right to stop other people from getting theirs.”

You knew you overstepped the line when Miguel turned around and started walking towards you, fury burning in his crimson eyes. “Yeah, so what! What if that is what this is all about! You should know better than anyone how much this job takes away from you!” he screamed at you, backing you up into a wall. “Why should he get to be let off so easily, while people like you and me have to suffer so much? Don’t try to turn me into the villain here when I know you’re thinking the exact same thing, y/n.” He wasn’t entirely wrong. You had wondered it at some points. “I won’t let you turn this onto me Miguel, this is about you,” you fired back. “Oh no, you’re not getting off that easily. I know you’re thinking it. And you’re right. Why should Miles get let off so easily when you’ve lost so much.” He held your hands in his, trying to connect to you. “And you have mi vida. You’ve had so much taken from you and it’s unfair. Why should he only have lost one person when you’ve had three taken from you. Your brother, Peter, your moth-.”

He was cut off by your hand striking against his face in a harsh blow. “If you’re smart, and I know you are, you’ll keep those three out of them. I won’t let you drag their names through the dirt for something as stupid as this.” You both stood there for a while, both of your eyes looking towards the ground, hoping it would open up to swallow you both as an escape from this god awful conversation. You never wanted it to come to this. In all honesty, you cared for Miguel. You might’ve even loved him, if you were even capable of doing such a thing. You hoped he felt the same way about you, but in a job like this, he always had at least one wall up around you. It just wasn’t worth it anymore. You were too tired to keep trying for something that was most likely going to fall apart in the end. 

“You’re still going after him aren’t you?” you asked, finally breaking the silence. Miguel looked back up at you. “You can’t ask me not to. You know better than anyone why this is so important to me.” He moved his hand up to cup your cheek and kissed your forehead gently. You let it sit there for a minute out of habit before pushing it off your face. “And you must know why I can’t stay anymore then.” His shoulders dropped. “Whatever this thing between us is. It’s over. I can’t stay beside someone who can’t see what he’s doing is wrong.” Miguel’s dropped hand turned into a fist of anger. “Fine,” he spat in your face. “I don’t need someone like you in my way. You’re just a liability to this anyways.” He began to walk away from you back to his scanners. “Just don’t come crying back over to me when your little plan doesn’t work out, cause I won’t help you.” He used his webs to pull himself back up to the platform to keep looking for Miles. You stood there for a second, gathering yourself.

Five years. Out the door just like that. It bewildered you how easily a bond like you two had could be broken all because of one teenager. You began to make your way for the door before you said. “When this is all over…don’t try to find me.” He didn’t respond. Once the elevator doors opened, you rushed inside, desperate to get away from him. So many thoughts rushed through your head as the doors closed and you sunk down back to the lobby to leave. You didn’t have much of a plan. This could end up being a horrible idea. Your gut told you it was the right thing to do though. And that was enough for you. You walked out of the headquarters lobby with a new heart and a new mind, ready to take action for your new plan.

First though, you had to find Gwen.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: god that took longer than it should've. dw dw i'll do a part 2 if enough people ask for one. im not 100% sure how im gonna do a part 2 cause yk....idk how beyond the spiderverse is gonna go so tbh, we're just gonna make it go the way i want lmao. thanks for reading, ik this was kind of a long one lmao

NEXT CHAPTER

[astralis-ortus]

gummy bears

✱ college student!hj x gn!reader

— art school is hard—at least having a muse makes it a little easier.

w.count → 1.8k genre → fluff...? warning → mild cussing, as per usual♡ a.n → hi!! i'm back with a new face addition to the page! hahah honestly i thought it would be either minho or seungmin first but ngl hyunnie has been tugging on my hearstrings lately he's such a silly little mandu i love him sm :( hope you guys find the story as enjoyable as chris' side of the blog, and also if anyone is interested for a commission there are slots available still♡ ⋆ see masterlist

has it always been this… weird?

your attention should’ve been sealed at the projected slides once the professor started the countdown on his infamous ‘how-long-can-i-yap-before-my-students-fall-asleep’ course, but holy smokes—even breathing seemed like a major task when you could barely peel your thoughts off the boy sitting a few rows in front of you.

hyunjin has always been the main attention-grabber wherever he went—and that includes yours.

it’s not like you denying it either. he is gorgeous, and even the heavens know you couldn’t help but glance in his direction whenever he’s in the room. hell, even a few of your initial sketches for last semester’s projects were inspired by hyunjin. it’s as if he had slowly solidified his spot as your muse—but what is this odd feeling gently fluttering between the rows of your ribcage?

a buzz from the pocket of your pants startled you out of your trance, and while you thanked the gods for sending you down here with a habit of putting your phone on constant silent, you peeked at the notification patiently perched on the screen of your phone—one nearly causing you a minor heart attack on the spot.

hyunjin: spot next to me is empty, you know

right—you forgot your position from a mere classmate-slash-secret-admirer has been upgraded to an actual acquaintance-slash-almost-friend of hyunjin’s, all thanks to that one final project from art history 101 class last semester.

you: being at the back is peaceful, thanks hyunjin: says the one who rushed for a front spot for literally any other class lol hyunjin: cmon, saved the spot for you

lord—now you’re genuinely glad you decided to wear that crusty baseball cap of yours today, or literally everyone would’ve noticed the way your cheeks had burned up into a bright shade of crimson.

you: geez hyunjin: cmoooon hyunjin: or i’ll literally ask mr. kang to move you here

the way your head snapped to find hyunjin’s playful yet determined gaze headed straight at you was not something you would’ve ever thought to add to your bingo board.

ever.

you: no you won’t hyunjin: try me

your eyes nearly doubled in size when you returned your line of sight in hyunjin’s direction, only to see the slow, comical way the long-haired guy is raising his hand while keeping his eyes on you, lips tipped up into a masked grin.

“yes, mr. hwang?”

fuck.

you scrambled on your phone while mr. kang—as well as the rest of the attendees of the class, fixed their eyes on hyunjin, quietly wondering what would come out of those lips of his.

“oh, i’m just wondering if—"

you: FINE I’M MOVING you: JUST SHUT UP you: PLEASE

And you swore you could see the way his lips turned into a victorious grin through the back of his head.

“if?” mr. kang repeated, seemingly a little impatient at hyunjin’s antics. to be fair, you actually felt the same way.

“if you have any movie or documentaries related to the topics you will be teaching this semester,” hyunjin’s voice rang loud and clear—as if the question had been his initial motive all along, and you’re simply a victim of his little magic trick.

“personally i do learn better through those mediums, mr. kang,” hyunjin perfected his question, smile as innocent as a puppy, and as he looked around the hall, scanning the dozens of nodding heads to his statement,

hyunjin made sure to lock eyes with you for a second longer.

“and i think my friends agree with me.”

“you’re an ass,” you hissed as soon as you secured the seat next to hyunjin, shooting daggers out of your eyes while the latter chuckled. given, hyunjin’s question did made your move less suspicious since mr. kang actually took a liking to the idea and decided to substitute one of the assignments into this movie presentation group project, but still—you were so close to losing your dignity in front of dozens of your peers, on the first day of the new semester.

“would’ve been easier had you listened the first time,” he playfully retorted, remnants of victory still glimmered in his eyes, “and now you know i’m a man of my words. win-win situation for both of us.”

“as if,” you groaned in annoyance despite failing to even make a dent to hyunjin’s victorious grin. “you are the only one benefiting from this, mr. hwang. i’m merely a victim in this scheme of yours.”

“ouch—mr. hwang? really now?” hyunjin placed a hand over his heart, pretending as if he has been shot despite the wicked smile plastered across his face, “do you really want to hurt me like that?”

if you were to be honest, you do enjoy your playful bickers with hyunjin. it made him less of a muse and more of a… human. a regular college boy, who just so happened to be blessed by the goddess of beauty herself and sent here with an exceptional heart of gold.

like he’s just a boy.

“seemed fair enough,” instead, you replied with a mischievous grin while greeting a couple of hyunjin’s friends joining your little group.

“1-1, mr. hwang.”

the massive numbers displayed on your phone screen further validates the exhaustion you felt looming over your shoulders. it’s only the first week of the new semester and you’re already held up on campus way past your classes—how are you supposed to survive the rest of the school year?

to be fair, you really do love what you’re studying right now. it’s what you’ve always wanted to be since you were a child, and to be able to live out your inner child’s dream is one of your prides—but god, it did not make things easier to actually do.

just as you slipped your screen away, sparing yourself from a bunch of exhausting thoughts as your footsteps led you to your bus stop, a pack of gummy bear suddenly popped out of thin air in front of your eyes, causing you to stumble backwards onto the—

warm surface?

“i’m not a gummy sharing type of person, but i think you need this more than i do.”

pushing yourself off the other’s figure, you didn’t need to turn around to figure out the person’s identity—but you did anyway.

“gee, thanks mr. hwang,” you playfully snickered, snatching the bag of gummy and popped one unfortunate strawberry flavored bear in your mouth, “didn’t know you’re so kind.”

over the past week, you found out that you surprisingly have quite a lot of classes together with hyunjin and a few of his friends. you’re thankful he dropped the ‘i saved you a seat’ act by the third class you shared and let you actually sit amongst your friends, but in ways you don’t even understand, you somehow kept getting sorted in the same groups as hyunjin. well, at least now you no longer freeze up while hyunjin’s around.

“oh, can you drop that already,” hyunjin groaned, lips pursing into a subtle pout, “the others are starting to call me mr. hwang too thanks to you, you know.”

you couldn’t help but let a chuckle slip past your lips to hyunjin’s protest, already with a picture in your head about the whining he would’ve done once his closest friends started to pick up hyunjin’s objection to the nickname and used the name against him. how adorable he would’ve—

wait.

adorable?

hyunjin’s supposed to be simply your muse—maybe a friend at best! you don’t call your friends adorable, do you?

“you started it!” shaking your head in an attempt to rid the word from the nooks and crannies of your brain, you instead defended yourself while offering hyunjin the pack of gummies at the same time.

“what do you mean i started it!” hyunjin groaned, still popping a gummy in his mouth in the process, “i was just simply requesting your presence at the spot I have reserved for you!”

“and threatened to embarrass me if i didn’t move!” you deflected, playfully glaring at the latter. “don’t you dare omit that part, you sneaky weasel! i thought I was going to have to drop the class due to embarrassment!”

the crease between hyunjin’s brows grew thicker when he realized he couldn’t counter your protest, resulting in another pout to form on his lips, now clearer than before. it made you feel a little guilty—did you go a little too far? was he offended by the—

“i just wanted to get closer to you.”

…wait.

wait—what?

“i know it’s a lame excuse,” hyunjin’s groans turn muffled as he hid his face behind the palms of his hands, “it’s just—i don’t know, i find you fun? i know we just started talking after that group project but i like talking about stuff with you and even after the group project ended i just kept finding myself wanting to talk to you? i just—”

“whoa whoa—slow down!” you instinctively grabbed hyunjin’s shoulders; not too hard to shake him off, just enough to gently ground him back from his rambles. “breathe, you don’t need to explain anything to me, hyunjin. just breathe.”

well, frankly you do need an explanation—just… not from this adorably frantic hyunjin.

no, scratch that—just frantic.

not adorably.

just frantic.

hyunjin’s face was nearly the shade of the gummy bear packet you still had on your hand, and as much as you didn’t want to embarrass him more than he’s already feeling, your lips seemed to have their own plans when they curled up into a grin.

“don’t even say anything,” he warned, fingers now pointing at the rapidly growing grin on your face. “just don’t.”

you would honestly love to comply to hyunjin’s wishes, really—after all, you’re the type to honor and respect your friend’s wishes…

but is he just a friend?

“I’m not!” you stated, but despite throwing your hands up in a sign of defeat, hyunjin knew better when he noticed the constant degree of smile etched across your face,

“I just never would have thought that the campus crush,” you emphasized, trails of laughter already slipping past your lips in harmony to hyunjin’s exasperated sigh, “the mr. hwang hyunjin himself, is quite clumsy at making new friends.”

hyunjin was genuinely dumbfounded at your accusation.

“no i’m not!” he protested, subconsciously following your footstep as you got ready to catch your nearing bus, “it’s not that i’m bad at making friends, i just—”

hyunjin’s explanation were cut short when your bus finally arrived, prompting another frown to appear on his face when you hopped on without sparing him another glance. dejected, hyunjin turned around and—

“hyunjin!”

the speed at how quickly hyunjin turned on his heels at your voice nearly made you giggle. from one of the opened windows from the back of the bus, you locked eyes with hyunjin and smiled.

“text me your excuses and we’ll see if you’re actually good at making friends!” you shouted as the bus began to drove away, only allowing you to witness a faint ‘okay!’ along with an excited wave before hyunjin disappeared behind the curve of the crossroad.

well, maybe hyunjin is adorable after all.

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[the-teufort-nine]

Can you do the mercs with an autistic scientist wife, who loves books, music and butt pats please? (Preferably spy, medic, Engie, scout and sniper please!!) thank you!!! Have a good day!!!

this you? XD ahaha im sure you loved that this took me forever to answer😬

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ Mercs x Autistic/Scientist/Wife!Reader: Books, Beats, and Butt Pats ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Featuring: Spy, Engineer, Scout, Medic, and Sniper

Spy:

You got this man to settle down and marry you?! Good lord, you must be magic.

Big sugar daddy energy from Spy ngl. Expect to be treated to lavish gifts from him often. Deep in the grips of a new hyperfixation? Prepare to be gifted something related to it every week or so.

Loves how smart and driven you are. After years of working with moronic lunatics and madmen, you are a welcome change.

Will go out of his way to get you hard to find records and books if you are mad at him.

You can try and get him to quit smoking, but unless its a huge trigger for you, he probably won't, even if you show him what his lungs probably look like.

Probably won't pat your ass, since he's a

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁Gentleman. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

But he might give it a squeeze if you two are in the mood ;)

Engineer:

ASS MAN ASS MAN A S S M A N

You're this man's wife? Butt pats ahoy! No, seriously, you're getting your rump lightly smacked on the daily.

Really enjoys having a partner that is near or on the same intellectual level as him. He would still love you if you weren't, but its really nice to have someone aside from Medic that he can talk shop with.

I hope you like country music, because Engie built every single music playing device in the house, which pretty much gives him complete control over the music choice when he's home.

Let's be honest here; this man is probably also autistic.

Your interests may not be the same, but you two like to be together when you're engaging with them. The parallel play goes crazy.

You two definitely have matching reclining chairs in your living room that you read your books in. Comfortable silence your beloved <3

Scout:

God, please stick around. This man needs someone in his life who isn't a deadbeat good lord-

He will happily listen to you talk about your interests any day, even your science related ones, but do not expect him to understand anything above, like, a seventh grade level.

ADHD 🤝Autism power couple

Butt pats? Hell yeah! Grass grows, birds fly, and brotha? He's smacking your ass like a set of bongos.

Household music is an equal mix of your interests and his. Expect to hear Tom Jones in the mornings; he likes to play his records while he makes breakfast.

Can't read nearly as well as you, but he really likes listening to you read.

Medic:

Like Engineer, this man appreciates a wife with a good head on her shoulders and a t h i c c ass.

Will give you butt pats, but be warned! There is a 50/50 chance his hands are covered in blood.

Probably also on the spectrum.

He probably introduces you to German music and literature, and will happily teach you the language if you ask!

Need some less-than-legal supplies for a project or experiment? Don't even worry, queen, your man will provide. <3

You are definitely going to live longer than most humans. Even if an accident takes you out, Medic surgically grafted your soul to his a long time ago, so not even death will do you part!

I think you two would dance to your shared records together pretty often.

Sniper:

Butt pats? Nah, butt bites.

FREAK behaviour with this man. He is a wild bushman who lives in a van and who's most developmentally impactful social interactions came from insane, bloodthirsty mercenaries who were not even close to being normal. How did you get him to propose.

A good listener though! He remembers the little things that you mention, and will often surprise you with something related to an interest of yours, even if you only mentioned it once.

Not a huge music fan, but he lets you have total control over his van's radio. You are the only one who gets this privillage.

Asks you to preserve small animals for him sometimes. He likes to keep them as decorations.

Please invent something to counteract those Mann Co. kidney enlarging pills. Please.

Loves reading with you! This man enjoys silence, and he actually really enjoys a good book or two when he had downtime.

[rapturously]

Idk exactly what to ask for, but I have an ✨idea✨

Dwayne who seemingly has a penchant for choking his SO. He just loves the little whimpers and moans they make, and the way they squirm.

Really basic, ik 💀. You can take this and run, or simply enjoy this thought with me, but I wanted to share 🥰

moving in stereo.

( dwayne x fem!reader. )

➾ pairing ; dwayne x fem!reader.

format: one-shot — requested.

word count: 5.9K.

warnings: SMUT (mdni), making out, dirty talk, cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving), bloodplay (he’s a vampire), breast-play, biting, hair-pulling, scratching, breeding kink, scent kink, p in v sex, missionary position, rough sex, begging, unprotected sex, mating press (a little bit), choking, bruising/marking, dwayne is hot

author’s note: i am so obsessed with him, it’s not even funny ngl :’) also, I have a couple of other fics/drabbles that I’ll probably post tonight too, I’m definitely feeling very inspired! If you haven’t voted on my poll, please do so! thank you guys sm for your continued love & support !! ❤️

Beads of blood filled your mouth as you absentmindedly chewed at the skin of your cheek, flesh taut between your back molars — you hadn’t intended to bite down as hard as you did. A singular glance at Dwayne’s hands had contorted into shameless ogling, smitten hues discreetly flickering over the veins and smudges of grayish grease coating his fingers.

He had a way with machinery that transcended you — he often claimed that it was simply natural instinct, but your running theory was something buried in his past life. Dwayne was known for his stoicism and quiet demeanor, neglecting to educate you on his background.

It must’ve been a life of hard work — otherwise, his hands wouldn’t have appeared so rough and calloused. They weren’t smooth and spindly like Marko’s, or pretty like Paul’s. They were taut and thick, dexterous and built for destruction, if he let it.

Hands that had held you many times before, touched you in ways that you longed to feel again. A shudder rolled down your spine as you daydreamed, mind floating into a fantastical haze of lascivious thoughts. If it weren’t for the presence of the other boys, a tendril of drool might’ve leaked from the corner of your mouth.

“It’s fucked, isn’t it?”

Paul’s agitated groan reverberated throughout the cavern as he crouched beside his boombox, slapping a palm against the top of the speaker, as if that would cure all ailments. His brows furrowed together, lip curled in annoyance as he knocked his hand against the machine a second time — for good measure.

“You’ll ruin it if you keep it up.” Dwayne’s monotonous remark echoed from the opposite side of the lobby. He was entrenched in repairing his motorcycle after it had gotten vandalized by a Surf-Nazi who didn’t live to tell the tale. Paul’s beloved stereo was the least of his concerns.

“How are we gonna listen to Alice?” A begrudging sigh escaped Paul, whose theatrics weren’t out of the ordinary. He huffed, falling in a dramatic heap along the edge of the dilapidated fountain. “Can’t you fix it, Dwayne?” He asked, peering toward his brother, who seemed entirely uninterested.

Silence filled the chasm between them, prompting you to stifle a smile. Dwayne didn’t enjoy being bothered whenever he was working on a project — he was always one to see it through until the very end.

David and Marko emerged from their abysmal resting place. Once the sun disappeared behind the ocean and dusk consumed dawn, the boys became wildly active. “Paul,” David’s voice carried, always domineering without even trying. “Let’s go.”

Disappointed in the lack of closure for his treasured boombox, Paul relented, rolling off of the stone bannister with an exaggerated sigh. He ruffled your hair in passing, and smacked Dwayne on the way out, who didn’t flinch or move a muscle. He simply exhaled — you could sense the twinge of irritation in his sigh alone.

Paul snickered, hopping up the ledge alongside David and Marko. “See you later, bud.” He sneered, waving at you as he departed with his brothers. Once the trio slunk away into the moonlight, it left you and Dwayne by yourselves in the cave.

You could’ve watched Dwayne work for hours, captivated by the way he dismantled the machinery, handling the finer pieces with nimble digits. He was wrist-deep in the grease-laden guts of his motorcycle, surrounded by a myriad of scrap and parts. His dark brows were furrowed together in stark concentration.

Intrigued, you abandoned your perch — a rickety, velvet-cushioned chair that had come with the hotel’s ancient wreckage. Paul’s stereo was sitting along the ledge, awaiting a tune-up that you knew Dwayne would inevitably provide. You sat down, inspecting it for any damage — it looked unharmed, on the outside.

“Do you think it was a user error sort of thing?” A burst of laughter escaped you as you opened up the hatch for the cassette tapes, noticing a rather banged-up copy of Alice Cooper’s Constrictor from ‘86. It was a good choice — you had to commend Paul’s taste in music.

Dwayne’s soft, bemused huff was all you needed to hear, prompting you to smile. You never mistook his tranquil, halcyon demeanor as indifference — he was a man of very few words. Even his temper wasn’t violent or tempestuous, like that of Marko or David. His placidity in most things was what drew you to him in the first place.

Being a human amongst a den of rancorous vampires wasn’t your intention, but you were happy — happiest with Dwayne, above all. He was the best boyfriend you’d ever had, not that it was a lengthy list. You idly fiddled with some of the switches on the boombox, removing and reinserting the cassette before closing it up.

Much to your chagrin, the stereo didn’t work — maybe it wasn’t Paul’s imagination after all. You gently nudged it back along the ledge, abandoning it for now. “How come you didn’t go with the others?” You inquired, folding one leg over the other, tapping the heel of your boot against the dusty stone.

There was a slight shift in his body language — a mere shrug of his broad shoulders, accompanied by the noises of metal clanging, gears twisting, and then he grunted. “I’m not looking for dinner.” Dwayne replied, matter-of-factly. He was in the midst of replacing the engine on his bike, placing the damaged part aside, hands stained in dark ichor.

With a soft hum, you pushed yourself off of the ledge, wandering over toward Dwayne’s scrapyard — a rather cluttered corner of the cave that acted as a makeshift garage. You sat along one of the flat outcroppings of rock, opting to watch him fix up his motorcycle. It would intrigue you more than messing with the boombox ever would.

His pearlescent teeth clenched around a wrench, clutched between his maw as he focused on putting the new engine back in. There was a quiet appreciation that he held for you — you were always respectful of his hobbies, if this even counted as one. Dark eyes flickered toward you, sitting there in your billowing sundress like some statuesque angel.

Dwayne appraised you in his usual silence, eyes carefully raking along your physique, as if he were undressing you through gaze alone. His jaw tensed, a fire beginning to spark within his chest, threatening to spread like an encroaching wildfire the longer he ogled you.

Sundresses were a hot commodity — and they never lasted, either. Dwayne made sure of it, and once he got his hands on you, that pretty fabric shielding you from him would cease to exist. He made it up to you with the gift of another, but rest assured, it would be shortlived.

It was a mutual feeling, the silent staring. His keen hues settled along the supple curves hiding just beneath that thin veil of fabric while you were captivated by the visual feast of strong, capable hands and taut forearms. You folded your hands within your lap, beginning to absentmindedly chew at your inner cheek again.

Your scent wafted throughout the short distance between the both of you, heavy with hints of your favorite perfume, a saccharine concoction that Dwayne had grown accustomed to. He loved your smell — it was unique to you, invading his senses as he continued his work.

Those strong, muscled hands of his were buried in the underbelly of the motorcycle, carefully placing the new engine back inside. He began to fasten it all into place, removing the wrench from his mouth, quickly fixing it all up with a series of bolts, screws, and metallic plates.

“I’ll teach you sometime.” Dwayne was, oddly enough, the one to shatter the comfortable silence between the both of you. He prided himself on playing mechanic — his ability to handle such equipment and repair it was rather renowned. Once he was satisfied with the job, he sat back, peering toward you.

Warmth oozed from those earthen-brown hues of his, coupled with a subtle adoration that only he possessed for you. Your smile only served to further it, the only thing to make his dead heart pump to life again.

“I’d like that,” You mused, canting your head to one side. “I think you should fix Paul’s stereo, too.” Even if Dwayne had brushed him off before, he would fix it and have it ready for him whenever he came back. It was the right thing to do, anyway.

Dwayne huffed, lips twitching into a threadbare smile, wrought with traces of amusement. He didn’t say anything — he didn’t need to. He wiped his hands off along the crimson cloth he carried in his back pocket, ridding his hands of engine grease and oil.

He stood, filling in his full height as he bent down to give you a kiss, hand carding through the back of your skull. It never failed to make you shudder, haplessly squeezing your thighs together as you reached for his forearm. Powerful, taut muscle flexed underneath your fingertips, and his kiss briefly intensified before he withdrew.

That familiar aching sensation flickered to life between your legs, a dull arousal pooling within your stomach. You wanted nothing more than to cling to him, beg for another kiss, but Dwayne was already over to the stereo, inspecting it for any damage it might’ve had.

For Dwayne, your mind was exceptionally loud — he could read your thoughts, hear them screaming from afar, which he happened to smile at from where he stood. The feeling was mutual, but he wanted to make you stew in it for a little while — it heightened the experience.

As he dismantled the stereo, you decided to go elsewhere — to Paul’s nest, which wasn’t the brightest idea, but he had an impressive collection of cassette tapes. You began climbing toward the rocky slope that led off into alcoves, using some of the ropes hanging about to pull yourself up.

“Where are you going?” Dwayne asked, seemingly finding the source of the boombox’s disarray — there were pieces of tape stuck in the machine.

“To see what Paul has to listen to,” You mused, nose wrinkling in amusement. “It’s the least that he can do for you since you fixed it. We should go listen to music.” Truthfully, Dwayne owned that stupid stereo just as much as Paul did — joint custody, you’d called it.

Hawkish, dark hues drank you in from afar, and Dwayne decided that he’d indulge himself in your wishes, picking up the boombox by the bottom. The handle had been broken off long ago — courtesy of Paul, once again. He simply trailed behind you, briefly pressing his hand against the small of your back when you made it up the incline, keeping you steady.

Paul’s nest was notoriously cluttered — in a very fascinating and macabre manner. It was littered in trinkets, things he’d taken from people he fed from, bones and all, or general thievary. The boys were all like this, but not to Paul’s level.

Posters of hair-bands and metal groups hung all around the rock, illuminated by flickering candlelight. It smelled faintly of marijuana, decorated by a patchwork array of tapestries, clothes, and stolen jackets. The guitar he’d lifted off of a traveling rock group sat on his bed — he always talked about starting a band.

A mountain of cassette tapes lay in a semi-organized heap, many of them taken from Videomax or anywhere he could find them. Dwayne simply stood at the fringes of Paul’s nest, watching as you picked through his extensive collection. You smiled at the handful you’d grabbed, rejoining Dwayne as the two of you made for his nest.

In an amusing juxtaposition, Dwayne’s nest was noticeably simplistic — yet, his personality was scrawled all over it. He liked to read, keeping a trunk of books, tools he’d taken from garages, and some trinkets stashed away in a large piece of a drawer.

He hadn’t bothered to invest in a bed for several decades — not until he got entangled with you. When Marko had mentioned it to you in-passing, it was rather intriguing, but you never asked Dwayne about it.

With the stereo now placed at the foot of his makeshift bed, placed atop a rather rickety wooden trunk, you ejected Alice Cooper from the hatch and put in The Cars, instead. Dwayne happened to regard this choice with curiosity, sitting along the edge of the mattress.

Moving in Stereo began to drift through the alcove, and you promptly fell back against the plush surface, tucking your hands atop your chest. “This song reminds me of you.” You murmured, gazing at the cavernous ceiling, focused on the jagged edges and outcroppings of rock.

Dwayne seemed curious, twisting slightly to face you. Even when sitting, he towered over you, indomitable and immovable, a wall of sheer strength and muscle. “Why does it remind you of me?” He wanted to hear your answer, eyes flickering toward your exposed stomach.

You smiled, somewhat embarrassed, but you decided to answer him anyway. “I don’t know,” You began, rolling over onto your side, propping yourself up with one hand. “Just a bit of a mystery, but alluring. It’s pretty magnetizing.” With a soft exhale, you began to pick at a stray string on one of the blankets that covered the mattress.

“Magnetizing,” Dwayne echoed, withholding the urge to smirk. Instead, he joined you, laying on his side as he mirrored your position, face mere centimeters away from yours. “You got a way with words, girl.” His chest shook with a brief huff before he leaned in to kiss you.

If a kiss could have destroyed you, this was it — Dwayne’s mouth consumed you, intensified by your seemingly innocuous words. He tasted good, like spiced smoke and the faint bite of copper.

You were eternally grateful to The Cars — Dwayne was careening into you, broad chest flush against yours, veined hand grasping at the base of your skull. Thick digits massaged at the nape of your neck, coaxing you close until there was no space left between you, lips voraciously tangling with yours.

He ripped all wisps of air from your lungs, as cold as ice as he shrugged off his jacket. Arousal reactivated inside of you, no longer dormant as your warm hands reached for his chest, feeling broad muscle underneath your palms. He felt like a god — chiseled, forever perfect — you were sometimes in-awe of his beauty.

In awe — Dwayne smirked against your mouth, unable to help himself when it came to your overactive imagination and racing thoughts. He pushed his hand underneath your shirt, fingers tracing along your curves as he began to feel a familiar tightening in his jeans.

Your scent thoroughly intoxicated him — your natural musk, the cling of perfume, the arousal coalescing between your thighs — it was a perfect amalgamation. Dwayne exhaled, sitting up and taking you with him, hands hooking into the hem of your shirt as he peeled it off of you.

His lips were on your flesh again, hands tearing your thin brassiere apart with ease, reveling in your warmth. Dwayne pressed a string of kisses along your neck, feeling the thrum of your pulse point pound against his mouth. The shorts you wore still clung to your frame, but they wouldn’t be for much longer.

“Dwayne,” You sighed, The Cars becoming nothing more than atmospheric background noise. Liquid heat pooled between your legs, a shiver rolling down your spine as he laid you down against the mattress, covering you with his body. Your eyes locked together as he stared down at you, gaze boring right through you. “I need you.”

Dwayne kissed your neck, sucking enough to create a hickey before he traveled to the base of your throat, peppering kisses across your collarbone. “Where do you need me, sweet girl?” His husky, warm baritone made you shiver in delight. Those eyes raked over you in rapture, full of reverence.

“Everywhere,” You whimpered, goosebumps coalescing along your spine. Dwayne’s huff of laughter made you smile, and you quickly urged him closer for another kiss. His mouth crashed against yours, passionate and blistering, full of an unrestrained want. “I’m yours.” A sweet moan tore past your lips.

A wave of possessiveness swelled up inside of him, coupled with that innate desire to keep you all to himself. Dwayne didn’t have an issue sharing with his brothers, but you? No — you belonged to him, and him alone. A growl rippled across his broad chest as he tore his lips away, returning to your sternum.

There was a prowess to him that the others didn’t possess — Dwayne was emotionally intelligent, just as vicious in the same breath. He was an enigma of so many things, drawing you in with his arcadian charm. Your fingers reached for his dark tresses, perusing through as he kissed your chest.

“You’re beautiful,” Dwayne’s affectionate baritone rumbled across your flesh as he continued his slow, deliberate string of kisses, making his way to your breasts. He trapped one nipple between his lips, gently suckling on the sensitive mound, the other hand tugging at your shorts. “Perfect.” He uttered.

You sighed, fingers tangling within his mane of black tresses, pulling and carding through. It felt silky between your digits, like velvet. Those veined, calloused hands gripped along the meat of your hips, strong and unwavering as he lifted you to discard your shorts.

Arousal pooled between your legs, honey-thick as it toyed with Dwayne’s senses. He wanted nothing more than to drown himself between your thighs, devour you until you were a trembling, mewling mess. Your thoughts shamelessly echoed that sentiment, prompting him to reach toward the apex of your thighs, hand breaking past the waistline of your panties.

Dexterous fingers languidly slipped along your slick cunt, making a line right for your clit. Your body responded in a near-violent fashion, hips jolting up into him, hands curling within his hair. “D—Dwayne!” You whimpered, chasing after the friction his hand provided. Those dark hues hadn’t left you, transfixed on your smitten countenance as he kissed your stomach.

He looked big when his body was spread over yours, but when he began to slink toward your thighs, he was hulking, a massive wall of muscle. Dwayne’s kisses continued, littered all across your pelvis and thighs, fingers still winding you up as he pushed in between your legs with those broad, bronze shoulders.

His visage was rugged with a fine layer of dark stubble, tangible as it scratched against your inner thighs. He curled his hands into your panties, and instead of removing them, Dwayne simply tore them asunder, leaving remnants of fabric behind. The alcove reverberated with the sounds of material being ripped apart.

A thin sheen of arousal painted your cunt, scent stinging his nose in the most pleasant way possible. The velveteen flesh of your inner thighs were layered in faint bite marks — his own, from the past. He looked to you for approval, thumb lazily circling around your clit.

“Please.” You huffed, head bobbing up and down in an idle nod as he moved his lips toward a patch of flesh, unmarred by any bites. Dwayne was always very sensual, and even when he fed from you, it felt so lascivious. Your body jolted, hips writhing closer as he began to bite down.

Dark, earthy-brown hues melted away into pools of a golden-red, unnaturally vibrant. The initial sting of his bite made you wince, but he was always gentle with you when it came to feeding. As sharp teeth drew blood, a low growl reverberated throughout his chest, causing you to shiver. Your fingers continued to trace through his mane of black hair, a myriad of moans escaping you.

Restraining himself from taking this further, he had his fill, kissing over your now-healing bite. Dwayne licked his lips, effortlessly tossing both of your legs over his broad shoulders as he tugged you closer. You were somewhat folded at the hips, but you didn’t care.

Dwayne’s gaze was incendiary, intense — he stared you down from his perch between your thighs. You were visibly flustered, staring right back, nearly shrinking away altogether. He kissed your thighs, mouth dangerously close to your aching cunt. “You ready, girl?” He asked, inhaling another gust of your scent.

You nodded, feeling every fiber of your being scream with desire, and you wanted him terribly. “Yes,” You whimpered, hands having splayed out at your sides instead, no longer buried within his hair. “Dwayne, please,” His deliberation made it worse. “I want you so bad.” Your hips wriggled again, desperate for his mouth.

A warm, hearty chuckle emerged from his lips, making his herculean form shake between your legs. “Just relax,” He soothed, noticing how coiled and poised you were. Those strong, veined hands wrapped around your thighs, keeping you spread apart. The flat of his tongue lapped across your slit in one long stroke. “Relax, Mama.” His voice made your head swim.

Relaxation wasn’t exactly your forte — you were too wound-up, too drunk with desire to simply sit still and melt into the mattress. Dwayne’s tongue began to lap you up, greedily consuming every drop of your sweet arousal, working along your cunt. His fingers clamped hard, enough to leave behind the inklings of bruises, etched into your flesh like his personal brand.

Your thighs threatened to squeeze at his head, but he kept your legs firmly planted on his shoulders, pinning you down and rendering you immobile. Your taste saturated his tongue, and he only chased after it, dutifully lapping at your slit as his nose absentmindedly grazed against your clit.

Dwayne was relatively silent — and you didn’t mind in the slightest. The only ambiance happened to be The Cars, your delighted moans, and your boyfriend’s deep, rumbling grunts. His tongue worked wonders on your aching slit, cunt clenching pathetically around nothing as he lapped you up, gaze flickering towards you.

Your countenance was a vision of beauty, all contorted into an expression of complete and utter bliss. Your hips writhed, with very little room to go considering that Dwayne had you locked down, arms bracketed on your thighs, keeping you caged in against him.

A heavy fire burned bright within the pit of your stomach, demanding to be extinguished. Throaty, noisy moans escaped you in droves, vocalizing your delight as Dwayne vigorously lapped at your cunt. He alternated patterns, between soft and exploratory and recklessly needy. His mouth occasionally brushed over your clit, causing you to shiver.

Each time he ate you out, it was almost like the first time all over again — blissful, filled with a lust-infused passion that threatened to swallow you whole. Dwayne was beyond attentive, savoring you as if you were the most delicious meal he’d ever had.

He lowered himself toward the mattress, musculature flat and poised between your thighs. Those strong, thick arms kept you held in-place, keeping you locked in as he continued to lap at your core. His hips rocked forward, harshly grinding against the bed to relieve some of the friction.

Much to your surprise, Dwayne got off on pleasuring you above all else. There was something intimately carnal about it, knowing that you only made those sounds for him, only let him touch you. Your hips jolted forward, met with a barrage of an eager tongue and mouth as he lapped at your cunt.

Dwayne grunted, lips opting to purse around your clit, instead. Your reaction was visceral, moans ascending to an excitable crescendo as your hands flew toward his hair. He grunted again, attempting to vocalize his own satisfaction of you pulling and tugging on his dark tresses as if they were reins.

A burnished-gold coloration had swallowed brown irises whole, flickering down towards your blissed-out visage. Your body had a mind of its own, twitching and writhing as his mouth relentlessly assaulted your aching cunt. Pleasure licked acros your frame, burning along your sensitive nerves. He was vigorous and attentive, throat itching with a dull, familiar ache.

Hunger could wait — Dwayne merely placed that feeling into the recesses of his mind. His tongue continued to cascade across your slit, lapping at your arousal before he returned his attention to your clit, suckling on that bundle of nerves. He steered you towards your orgasm, mind swimming with a thick haze of lust, overwhelmed by your heady scent.

“Dwayne!” Your voice carried above the nest, echoing throughout your cavernous surroundings. Fortunately, you were alone — you had little desire to mask how you felt about him. Needy digits gripped at his tresses again, hips bucking into his mouth until you were simply a pile of mush, unable to respond.

You were lost to the white-hot heat of your release, an explosive sensation that caused you to quiver and spasm in delight. A glittering perspiration danced across your hot flesh, sparkling from the glow of the candlelight. “Dwayne,” You huffed, a whimper emerging from the back of your throat as he dutifully cleaned you up.

He released your hips from his ironclad hold, crawling along your body until his broad frame nestled between your thighs. That taut, muscled hand rest against the base of your throat, digits gingerly squeezing on either side of your windpipe. You initiate a rather tantalizing kiss, able to taste yourself upon his tongue.

A clattering sound resonates in your vicinity, Dwayne wrestling his belt off of his hips as his jeans sag upon his frame. He’s swift, wrangling his pants aside with one hand, the other clutching onto your pretty throat like a vice, evoking a string of sinful noises from your mouth. You kiss him with a desperation that he matches tenfold.

His hips brush against yours, and the distance is nonexistent, closed by your stoic paramour, whose normally-cold gaze reflects with a semblance of warmth. Your hands clamor for his broad shoulders, sinking into the expanse of bronze skin, nails clamping down when he drags the head of his cock against your cunt.

“Speak up, sweet girl.” Dwayne grunts, lips ghosting above the shell of your ear. He thoroughly enjoyed your begging on occasion, with this happening to be one of those occurrences. His lips briefly press against the side of your face, stubble grazing across your silken complexion.

With an agonizing pace, he continued to toy with you, pushing his cock against your entrance, but declining to go any further. A pained whine escaped you as you tilted yourself closer. The hand around your throat squeezes, effectively commanding your attention.

“Please,” You sputter, squirming in delight whenever those veined digits tense around the slender expanse of your jugular. “Dwayne, please,” Your simpering pleas are met with a hiss as he sluggishly sinks into you, inch by inch. He lets out another shallow rumble when your fingers brazenly dig into his shoulder. “Please move!”

Cold-blooded and dangerous — but not to you, not now. The icy temperature of his flesh swallows the warmth wafting from you as he invades your space, musculature eclipsing any light. His shadow falls across you, visage awash with his own carnal delight. You’re tight around him, aided by your arousal.

Another satisfactory snarl rips forth from his mouth, echoing next to your ear. You wrap your legs around his broad hips, gasping when he began to move. His cock hit new depths, pulling halfway out before Dwayne pushed himself back in again. His pace was rhythmic and passionate — not sloppy or too rough.

The pad of his thumb draws circles along the curve of your jawline, the rest of his hand tight around your windpipe. You moan, legs locked like a vice as he continues to roll his hips forward, cock battering its way into your cunt with a domineering force. Dwayne was taking it easy on you — if he lost control, it wouldn’t be very pretty for either of you.

His lips find yours, kissing you fervently as you reciprocate in a flurry of passion. Heat bled from you, arousal seeping from your core as Dwayne continued to rut into you, one hand splayed beside your head. The sparkling sheen of his ring glints in the lower light, mouth relentlessly assaulting yours in a barrage of kisses.

Dwayne grunts into your mouth, but the entanglement is shortlived as he moves to cover parts of your neck in kisses — whatever parts aren’t covered by his hand. You feel the sudden scrape of razor-sharp fangs drifting over your flesh, testing your resolve. You shudder, eyes fluttering shut as you grip and pull on his hair.

Sometimes you simply forgot that he was a specter of the night, a fanged creature who had the capability to rip you apart at any moment. His fangs continue to hover across your neck before they retracted, lips replacing them as he kissed your pulse point. There was an added element of thrill and exhilaration as you whimpered, his name spilling from your mouth over and over again.

You nearly see stars when he pistons himself into you again, slow and savoring you, enjoying the sluggishness of it all as Dwayne continues to drag out his thrusts. Your cunt clenches pathetically around his length, prompting you to whimper and moan, goosebumps coalescing along your spine.

“More,” It was incoherent, a string of needy babbles that escaped you in droves. “Dwayne, please,” You whimpered, chewing at your lower lip. In the midst of his own pleasure, Dwayne’s calculating stare flickered toward you — it wasn’t a good idea. “Please, please fuck me.” You begged, hearing the growl that echoed deep from within his chest.

“You sure?” Dwayne didn’t want to hurt you, but he was inclined to obey your needy command. Another grunt escaped him as he steadily rutted away into your tight cunt, deliberating in the midst of it all. “Won’t be gentle.” His stark warning was concrete, you knew this — you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into.

Swallowing the growing lump within your throat, you nodded several times over, digits gently curling around his wrist. “Yeah.” You panted, chest fluttering with a tight sensation as he gave you a hasty, passionate kiss, a parting gift as he squeezed at your jugular. That steady rhythm began to pick up instantaneously.

Dwayne made sure to watch you closely, gaze hawkishly trained upon your body as he began to fuck you. The intensity and the heat rose like a tidal wave, consuming the both of you as he pounded away at your poor cunt. Your legs rattled like leaves, attempting to stay locked around his waist.

The taut muscles of his shoulders and abdomen worked in-tandem, body effortlessly exerting strength. For him, it was nothing — for you, it was a different experience entirely. He was rough, manhandling you with one hand as he grabbed at your hips, enough to leave behind faint impressions in the form of bruises.

Moving in Stereo still swallowed any background noise, encompassing the whole of Dwayne’s nest. You were a complete and utter mess, devolving into a puddle of sweet moans and needy whimpers, especially whenever he applied pressure around your throat. He squeezed whenever he thrust into you, force akin to that of a barely-restrained battering ram.

Even in his self-proclaimed roughness, Dwayne was still executing some measure of restraint. “Mine,” His thunderous voice swarmed you from all sides as he fucked you into submission, gritting pearlescent teeth together as he approached his climax. You kept nodding, back arching into his touch.

“Dwayne,” Dwayne — it feels like the only word you’re capable of saying, rolling from your tongue with a wanton moan. You tug on his tresses with an urgency, feeling his hips grind against yours, flesh kissing flesh with unyielding thrusts. His cock continues to bury itself deep inside of your needy slit until it can go no further. “S—Shit! Right there!” You cry.

He huffs, musculature flat against you, chest to chest as you coax him in for another kiss. You whimper into his mouth when his tongue tangles with yours like a heat-seeking missile, teeth breaking the thin skin of your lower lip. Pearls of crimson trickle onto his tongue, fusing lust with hunger — all for you.

Dwayne didn’t stop, showing no signs of stopping as he fucked the both of you through an orgasm, painting your cunt in hot ropes of seed. He doesn’t pull out, a sensation that the two of you feed off of. If it weren’t for his vampirism, you’d be round with his children — the fantasy would continue to linger on for as long as he pleased.

“Shit, Mama,” Dwayne’s strained baritone sends shivers throughout your body. He rarely talks during sex, and this felt like a treat as he continued to thrust into you, feeling your nails dig angry crescents into his shoulder. He groans, savoring the feeling of your constant tugging on his mane of dark tresses. “You’re perfect.” His voice tapered off into a possessive growl.

You want to scream, a raging fire surging throughout your body before it finally comes to an end, extinguished by Dwayne’s rough rutting. He could’ve kept it up, continued all night long with his cock stuffed inside of you, but humanity was both a blessing and a curse. Your thighs shook underneath his grasp, and he began to slow, pressing kisses along your collarbone.

His hand left behind a searing brand around your throat — whether or not the imprints are visible, it’s the sensation that refuses to leave. Your windpipe feels a little sore, but it’s a pleasant burn as he comes to a crawl, nestling his forehead against yours.

The excitement and blissful thrill of the moment steadily begins to fade, composure replacing a very heavy lust. Your heart thrums beneath your breast, beginning to crawl to a more uniform beat as you nudge forward, kissing Dwayne again. Your lips are swollen, split down the middle with a patch of dried cruor.

Dwayne’s exhale of relaxation comes after, and the tension within his body unfurls. He kept himself inside of you still, feeling your poor cunt clench around his cock when he adjusted his position. His kiss is astoundingly tender this time around, able to taste the pang of copper upon your lip, accompanied by your natural sweetness.

A sense of euphoria overwhelms you, body feeling wonderfully heavy as Dwayne peppered kisses all along your jaw and collarbone. “You alright?” He murmured, making sure that he hadn’t pushed the limit with you. It was easy to become lost in the moment, forget about your humanity.

You nodded, wincing slightly when he pulled out of you, resting his head against your stomach, arms encircling themselves around you. “Better than alright,” You mused, tracing your fingers throughout his hair. “You think Paul will mind that we borrowed his stereo?” Laughter burst forth from your mouth.

A bemused huff escaped Dwayne as he reached over with one muscled arm, hitting the ‘NEXT’ track on the boombox. He pulled you close, nose wrinkling in disdain as Drive by The Cars came on — it wasn’t exactly his taste in music.

“Like you said,” He rumbled, peering up at you with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. His arms effortlessly tugged you down to his level, lips twitching into a faint smirk, rare for Dwayne yet mesmerizing all the same. His mouth brushed above yours. “Joint custody.”

[evilminji]

Ngl, I'm kinda really big on "Accidentally Fixing Things While I Was Off, Minding My Business/Indulging My Hyper Fixation"

With a side of "huh, why do I hear jaws music?" *Og!Protagonist Approach-ith*

Cause like? Who WOULDN'T want to play around with QI? Talismans? Get REAL deep into the esoteric Cultivation Lore??! What do you MEAN "boring", native to this universe!? This shit is MAGIC! We're literally playing with MAGIC here! I can write squiggles on a peice of paper and BEND REALITY! Concentrate REAL hard and have the universe around me just... shrug and OBEY!!!

That's SO COOL!

Sweet backflips and flying swords! Mythic animals! Forget being a wizard, this is WAY better! *cackles in glee*

Imagine if a SI-OC aims for a Peak that was never even brought up in Cannon! The Talismans and Artifacts (don't get them started. Yes, it's both two seperate fields. But somehow ALSO a spectrum? And can be both at once, depending on the age of the object? No one else is quite sure...) Peak. She finds her people.

First you study the general, then you specialize.

Everyone there can info-dump for HOURS on their niche field of study! Lots of cross Peak cooperation! Half of them are never ON Peak because they can't MOVE their objects of interest! Gotta study them at location! Which, yes, includes hidden realms! AND THE CREATION OF THEM.

Their last Peak lord? Fuckin DIED to Tianlang-jun's sealing. Their CURRENT Shizun? Hates the Old Palace Master with the fury of ten thousand suns. Bastard just... just DUMPED a project like "seal a Heavenly Fucking Demon Emperor" on everybody LAST MINUTE. And WIPED OUT an ENTIRE GENERATION of Masters.

If ANY of them work with ANYONE from Hau Haun? They are DEAD to him.

DEAD.

So like.... fuck those guys. It's the formal stance of her Peak. Fuck those guys forever. *spits*

Oc agrees. Cause wtf. That sounds like it was unreasonable and deeply fucked up. And that kid of demon? SUPER dangerous! Good thing there aren't any more of them! She says... having never read the book. Either one. Granted, things KINDA sound familiar? In that her brother used to talk about a series from overseas he was slowly moogle translating to read.

But like? It's the Multiverse. Not impossible odds. Maybe her soul just clung to a Cultivation Universe that VAGUELY sounded familiar, over the countless that DID NOT. Not like she knows how Reincarnation works...

Anyway~ Back to her projects!

She's industrious AF. Exceeds her Talisman goals. Constantly. Which means she gets to keep or sell the extra (it's motivation to work hard). She likes to give some to people who look like they need um. Like that miserable kid on Qing Jing. She sees him every time she stops by to hit up their, frankly, Gucci Library. VERY fancy.

Here, kid, have some warming and protection talismans. Perimeter alert ones. Kinda weird you go through so many, but meh, I don't know your life. Want one of my practice Qiankun pouches? It's ugly af. But since our peak makes them, I gotta practice.

The kid gives her snacks. They're pretty good, not gonna lie.

He IS... kinda creepy though. Very "you should skip school tomorrow" quite kid with too intense eye contact. You... uh... you GOOD, kiddo? Wanna talk? Should... should she, like, do something about this, or.....

No, no! He insists. With the flattest, fakest smile she's ever seen outside of a Serial Killer. He's Fine™! No need to worry about HIM!

......okay, but, see, when you SAY shit like that....

Creepy™ "probably gonna murder everyone on Qing Jing" kid aside? She has a GOAL! Wants to make a MEDICAL Hidden Realm! Yeah, that's right!! See, you can dictate the "rules" of reality (somewhat) inside the Realm you create, right? SO! It occurred to her! She should make a Realm?

That DOES NOT ALLOW QI DEVIATIONS!

Something that forces the Qi inside one's body to smooth and heal! Calm and rich! Like Ling Xi caves but for healing instead of breakthroughs! It could be a lifesaving realm, where one goes to ride out a Qi Deviation or face their heart demons! In an environment that will not ALLOW them to fatally spiral!

Of course, she needs to find a whole bunch of rare and soothing legendary flowers to plant. Trees, too. A couple rare beasts, known for their intensely soothing auras. Just... REALLY stack the odds. THEN off course, she'll have to lay the ground work of the realm itself. Find a good place to PUT it!

Maybe Qian Cao Peak? Or could she connect it to to the Ling Xi to take advantage of the natural Qi and protection the mountain itself gives? She would need permission either way... she should draft a consultation request...

All this? As the immortal conference gets closer and closer. Fate LOOMS.

Only to slide wildly off the rails, as she get approved by THE SECT LEADER to make her "Anti-Qi-Deviation Realm" in the Ling Xi Caves as her final project. Her Master Work as an Inner Disciple, as it were, Proof of studies and skill. All HE saw was "anti-Qi-deviation" and thought "this could totally help Xiao-Jiu". Immediately gave the go ahead.

(And as for Lui Qinggi? This is NOT a new idea of hers. She'd long gotten Mu Qingfang on board. What luck, for EVERONE involved, he was in the caves that day. Once again looking for a good place to anchor the realm, for a maximum effect to ease of access ratio.)

She anchors the Realm. Starts planting like mad. Transferring her legendary Soothing Plants and Soothing Trees. Constructing a few buildings in accordance to the feng shui MASTER she hunted down and consulted. Requests Shen-shibo himself come and be in charge of paintings and other decorations, as he IS the master of the scholars peak.

(And most at risk of a Lords or a Qi Deviation. So would be a splendid test case.)

(Is what she does not say...)

(But they are both aware of anyway.)

And? Shen Jiu? Has... never felt so calm and safe in his LIFE. Unnatural! Doesn't like it. Disgusting. What coddling nonsense! He's never going... going... to go... *stands at the entrance and glares, like the realm personally offended him* *carefully inches back inside like an abused cat*

He stops paying attention to his peak almost immediately. Yes, he does his job. But... his brain is no longer wrapped up in it. Obsessive over it. Constantly comparing and jealous and spiteful. Don't get him wrong! He's still a petty, spiteful, bitch of a man. But...

True, restful sleep? Changes a man. The complete lack of constant minor Qi Deviations, like mini-seizures, in the night. Throughout the day. Constantly wearing him down, tearing him down. Exhausting him and hurting. That... gentleness. Calm. Escape from pain, which he has lived with for so, so long.

What was he doing? Comparing himself to brats?

Being jealous of and competitive of tiny little IDIOTS. They're morons! He's a Peak Lord. He's WON.

He starts ignoring Bingge. Noticing things he'd overlooked before, in his exhaustion. Like the fact that his daughter is, apparently, very susceptible to rumor mongering and not AWARE she is just and ONLY his daughter. (Ying-er, sweetie, Baba loves you... but sometimes you make him very tired...) (also it will be a cold day in hell, when he allows to to marry that little cretin. Chose better.)

Oc? Getting SLOSHED with Mu-shibo! WOOOOO~☆ we DID IT!!! The Realm was a SUCCESS! We're GENIUSES! We can't wait to see how this develops!!! *celebrating noises*

Immortal Conference, happens. SI-OC? Just graduated. Missed it. Meh... it should be fine. Still... here, kiddos. Her backlog of Talismans and pouches. Never know when that might be useful! Oh, hey, Creepy I mean, that Kid from Qing Jing who thankfully hasn't killed anybody yet! Still got the Weirdly Intense Eye Contact, I see! You all packed?

....that's... a little light.

Here, Talismans and Pouches, just like the kids from her Peak. Stay safe, okay? There's food and water in there. Medicine too. Some emergency blankets. Flares and stuff. Don't hesitate to use um. They are made to be used. Everybody be good!

And remember! This conference isn't worth your life!

[♡Luo Binghe Will Remember This♡]

W...why do I hear jaws music? Hello? Helloooo?

Cause like? Shen Jiu? Doesn't throw him in. He's too busy saving students he Actually Cares About. You know... like a RESPONSIBLE Peak Lord. But does that STOP fate? Ha! No. Down Binghe goes! With a bunch of pouches he begged of Talisman Peak disciples who were dropping out. Since... they didn't need them... *puppy dog eyes* c-could he steal borrow them?

He ends up in the Abyss with a small warehouse of supplies. Which is GREAT! Will get him through this hellscape!

Assuming he can protect it.

Every meal. Every night of sleep where he DOESNT have to twitch at every sound, thanks to the talisman arrays. Every drop of clean water. Scrap of medicine. It's a reminder of the One(1) Sister who was nice to him at no cost. Didn't want to fuck him, use him, in some way. Have him a part, like some sort of emotional crutch. Was just... kind. For the sake of kindness.

Saw him, not the mask he wore, and recognized he'd be strong. (Why else would she look so wary?) And he wants and wants and Wants AND WANTS.

Aren't I strong, now, Shixiong? Aren't you so very proud of me? Look how powerful Luo Binghe has become! I came back for you. Brought back the things you gave me. A little stained, but that's okay. We can make new ones. Can finally move on. No more Cang Qiong. Isn't it great? Tell me it's GREAT, Shixiong.

Please stop running. Or I'll have to burn the mountain down.

@mayfay @legitimatesatanspawn @babbling-babull @hdgnj @spidori @leftnotright

[etoileee]

please please please tell me what percy is like😛

PERCY JACKSON IN MY DR Ψ

I’m so sorry this took so long! I don’t know why but I genuinely find it so hard to describe literally anything from my dr, like when I’m asked for example what Percy is like, I can’t come up with words that describe him... I just get these abstract thoughts and emotions that I associate with him.

It might be the fact that I'm dyslexic lmao but going on;

I don't consider Percy Jackson intimidating, but he definitely can be 1000%

He isn't shy at all, for example when I first met him we made eye contact, and he DID NOT look away. like I won't lie sometimes when I make eye contact with people I try and see if I can make them look away first just for the fun of it, but no he put my ass in my place that day.

I made a post talking about how people too often forget that he's a New Yorker and borderline juvenile and a lot of you thought it was funny but I am SERIOUS SEND HELP

He's a bit blunt, very honest. if he doesn't like some shit you're doing he'll tell you. I mentioned in my last post that he isn't afraid of confrontation and truly I mean it, I'm the type that tries to avoid it but once the opportunity presents itself he jumps to it, and he WILL fight ur ass, especially if it's someone he cares about that's on the line.

besides that part of him, I also noticed he is very protective. again, especially about people he cares about. he is the type that will defend you if he's with people who are talking badly about you and then tell you what they said about you then never talk to them again.

In my dr him and I just recently met so I haven't really experienced protective Percy, he did end up defending me two times, once during Capture the Flag and once when we were training, and both times I was honestly shocked. like I know his fatal flaw is his loyalty, but I didn't think he would say anything in my defence.

When I told him "You didn't have to do that" he got annoyed. dead ass told me "Why wouldn't I?" alright then... lemme shut up

HE IS SOOO SASSY

He's leading the sassy man apocalypse I've watched him roll his eyes when Dionysus talks or literally when anyone says anything he doesn't like... like okay princess calm down.

It's honestly really funny though I giggle a lil when I notice him getting annoyed.

something else I noticed is that low-key he's good with kids and it's really cute to watch. He's awkward as hell yes but he's good at helping them not doubt themselves.

I watched him help a group of what I think were nine-year-olds with sparring, he was a bit of an awkward teacher yes but after a few encouraging words their little doubtful faces went away, and once they got it right he would be like "See? I told you, you could do it."

Those memes that are like "Percy from his pov" and it's him just thinking he's an average teenage boy and then the "From everyone else's pov" and he's like a god are so accurate he's a little bit mesmerizing ngl.

overall I like Percy, but we're both trying to figure each other out and its so obvious. I wouldn't say we're friends yet, but we might be getting there. slowly but surely 😭

as of right now our relationship is that of two people forced into a group project for school that are slowly getting to know each other

[i-dont-wanna-be-me-anymore]

“I Win” | Cagefighter!Logan x Cagefighter!male!reader

Logan x Male!Reader

HC’s about Logan and a cage fighter mutant!male reader

Warnings: blood and violence, mutant!reader, mention of guns, sexual implications, Logan has a pain kink?

Request by: @keigohawks

A/n: so, this was kind of a request that i saw, so I figured why not since I was already like in love with Logan. Also, Im ngl. Watching DP&W, i left the theatre feeling both sad cus of the end credits, and a little turned on.

SET PRE- X-MEN (2000)

—

• When Logan first met him, he wasn’t entirely what he expected. He actually wasn’t even looking at him when he saw him.

• Logan had been facing away from the wall as he heard people booing and yelling strings of curses at the man who just entered the cage. He turned and saw who he was up against. The man was beautiful, so much so that Logan had to do a double take upon seeing him.

• When the match started, Logan waited for the man to swing or at least do something, but he didn’t he just walked along the sides of the cage, watching his every movement. So, Logan charged at him, the metal in his bones making a hard impact as he punched the side of his face, watching him hunch over and spit out blood before he looked up at him, grinning.

• One thing led to another, and after several minutes of the two throwing each other against the walls, kicking each other’s stomachs, socking one another in the face; Logan ended up pinned down to the floor with the fighter’s fists swinging at him, left and right.

• Logan suddenly grabbed his arm and looked up at him, blood seeping down into his teeth from his injuries as he looked up at the man, smiling.

• The man squinted and pinned Logan’s arms down as he put them across his body, choking him with his own arms. Logan tried to use his enhanced strength to get him off, but it was no use, his efforts seemed pointless as the man was left un-harmed by his touch. With that, his vision went black.

• When he woke up, he saw the man sitting across from him, playing solitaire. Logan looked over the man, seeing that any sign of injuries on his face had gone away, or healed up just as soon as he got them.

• “Who are you?”

• One simple question led to him and the unknown, well now known, man to travel together in his truck.

• Logan had never had someone willingly want to go with him, it was always people looking for rides, people stealing his truck (and learning that it wasn’t the best thing to do), but now he actually had someone to talk to.

• Someone that he could actually call a friend.

• Y/n, he learned to be the unknown man’s name, was quite possibly the one person that actually care about him.

• And it even showed when he stuck by his side when finding out about the “X-Men.”

—

A/n: Short and sweet, also guys, I am currently between projects right now. I’m working on two TUA projects. One is Five x reader, that’s on here, and the other is an entire fanfiction, like s1-4 fanfiction, but I’m still on season 1. Anyways, that’s kind of why I took so long posting this. Lmk how this is and if you guys liked it

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | 9.5

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 1.2k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, takes place sometime before the NAS conference!, it's a lil sad ngl - lowkey giving unrequited love vibes

—a/n: my loves, merry christmas eve/merry christmas <33 i wish you all a very happy holidays! i'll try my best to get the space between us three - 03 up this friday, but with xmas and all, it might be a tad bit late. 😅 ty for your support and your patience, i'm v grateful for every single one of you!! ily 💕

Jiung has always cared about you since he met you. He's always been good about it, too. Never suffocating you, while at the same time making himself available whenever you needed him. He was there when you cried over your exes and ex-flings that didn't deserve shit, he was there when you just needed to get away from the house. 

He was there when you were trying to figure out what to do with your life— helping you brainstorm and listening to all your if's, and's, what if's. He was there when you needed someone to hold your hair back when you were too damn drunk. He was there when you felt too high and contemplated life when you took a hit of a blunt at a party.

He was there when you doubted yourself, when you just needed someone to reassure you that you were doing enough.

"Sorry. I got caught up with some stuff in lab." You rush over to the table, plopping your things down with a loud sigh. Jiung had been waiting for you at dinner for close to 30 minutes, his texts and calls going unanswered after a simple 'running late - be there soon' text from earlier. It was most likely a mix of you being busy, along with the crap service in the basement. 

"All good. You okay?"

"Yeah, I am." You smile at him, a little flustered. You actually were caught up with some project-related things; it was one of those days where things weren't going your way and you were running into every issue you could possibly run into. "Today was just not my day in lab."

"What happened?"

"What didn't happen?" You sigh. "I might ask for your help later with something. I'm not sure I can figure out what's wrong, but you might know some good routes to take." Jiung nods. "But, I don't wanna think about it right now. Need food." You pout.

"Okay, let's get some food in you then." Jiung chuckles. "Why don't you get your food first while I stay with our things?" You nod.

"I'll be back." The NAS conference was coming up soon, but it felt too busy to be excited about the event. Things were ramping up in both labs, and even though a lot of your time had been spent with San, you were busy trying to push your work in the lab in order to help Sunwoo add to his poster presentation. It was a bit of a risk, and you weren't sure the both of you would be able to pull off good, updated results in time— but the universe seemed to be on your side despite all the trials and tribulations you had to endure.

While grabbing your food in the dining hall, a call comes through on your phone and it's San. You can't help but smile to yourself, quickly swiping right to answer. You press the phone against your ear while you continue browsing the various options for tonight's dinner, biting your lip when San greets you so sweetly like he always does on the other line.

You had been planning to hang out with Jiung at the apartment after dinner, being in each other's company like before. Catching up on shows. Plans will probably change now.

"Hi baby. Hope your day wasn't too bad. Are you busy tonight?" San asks.

"It was okay. Ran into some issues in lab but nothing that can't be fixed. I'm at dinner with Jiung and we're probably gonna just hang out at the apartment after."

"I'm sorry, love. As long as you're okay?"

"Mhm." You reply in a sing-song tone. 

"What were you and Jiung gonna do tonight?"

"Hang out and chill. Probably put on one of ours shows we need to catch up on."

"I see. That sounds fun, love."

"Mhm." You repeat. "Why, what about you?"

"Nothing. Just be my old man self at home." You snort.

"You said it, not me."

"Yeah, yeah." He laughs. "I just got done working out and was hoping you'd come over."

"I can."

"Sweetheart." He laughs. "You should enjoy your time with Jiung."

"I can always see him whenever and wherever. I can't necessarily do that with you." You slightly pout. Jiung searches the dining hall to see if there are other familiar faces grabbing dinner right now. His eyes land back on you, brows knitting at the way you're talking on the phone and the little mannerisms he's picking up on.

The way you're preventing your smile from getting too big.

Speaking shyly.

Pacing around the room but not really looking at the dinner options.

You're definitely occupied, and Jiung had been noticing for awhile now. He just wasn't sure what it was, and he didn't wanna ask nor did he wanna assume. He figured you'd tell him eventually, but time seems to be passing and instead of you telling him everything like you normally do—

He knows nothing and you seem to be more distant than he's used to.

You hang up the phone after nodding a few times, finally approaching the staff to place your order. You grab your container, along with those chocolate chip cookies you love so much before swiping your ID card and heading back to the table.

"Sorry, Jiung. I gotta go after dinner. Gotta fix up this mess in the lab." You plop back down onto the seat.

"I can come with you? We can take a look together."

"It's okay. I'll just text you about it if I can't figure it out."

"Do you want me to come by later instead then?" You shake your head.

"I'll be there for awhile." Jiung cocks a brow up. "I promise it's all good. I'll let you know if anything comes up." Jiung shrugs. "I'm sorry."

"Mm, it's okay. We can always catch up on our shows later on." He gives you a small, reassuring smile; one that masks how sad he feels deep down. How hurt he feels after the umpteenth time of being put on the back burner. He gets up and heads over to grab his food, internally sulking at not being able to spend time with his bestfriend yet again.

Now, he doesn't necessarily feel like he's there. Not like he used to be. And not by his own choosing, no—

It's because you seem to be distancing yourself more and more each day and he's not sure why.

He's never seen you like this.

Or maybe, he's just not good at navigating this.

Luckily though, he's a bit sidetracked when he returns to the table— eating a rice bowl that he ordered just to order. You update him about things in lab, and the both of you are able to share a good conversation about how things are going, stories about your friends. You laugh and crack jokes with him in your usual fashion. He teases and pokes fun in his usual fashion.

It feels like the old days.

And it makes it hard for him because he sees the same person he's cared for, loved, after all these years.

Yet, there's something about you that's different and he can't necessarily pinpoint it.

He can only hope you're okay, and that you're happy. Doing the right thing. Taking care of yourself properly.

When the end of dinner comes, he still doesn't know what about you is different or who is making you different. He's left standing there, watching as you speed off to the Choi Lab; dealing with the awful, lonely feeling that punches him in the gut every time you part ways without saying much lately.

You don't feel like you're there anymore, and it's unfortunate.

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling

[yunwangja]

undercurrents | signal 16

masterlist | next signal

it was eating you alive. you like kuroo. you want kuroo. so much that it hurts. you needed to see him, or you think you were going to die. and it frustrated you so much everytime he had a new excuse to tell you. you wanted to rip your hair out whenever you saw another cold message from him.

you knew that this wasn’t him. this wasn’t kuroo. you hated how you didn’t know what was going on inside his head. you couldn’t do anything about it. you couldn’t even ask. and once you did, he just dismissed it.

one night, you even ranted to tooru about how stupid he was being. why is he being like this? he would always make you tell him what was going on in your head, but why couldn’t he do the same to you now? weren’t you close enough? didn’t he trust you like you did with him? or maybe, did he hate you? but why? because of that one time you declined his offer to lunch? but why?

and the final blow was the date. that fucking date with that partner of his on that project he was so busy with. so all this time, while he kept rejecting to see you, and being cold, he was developing feelings for this person? is that why he was acting that way? because he didn’t want to talk to you anymore? was he even sad during that time? was he really going through something?

or was he really not fine and that person helped him through it? that’s why they went on a date? but you could’ve done the same for him. but he didn’t let you. did it happen after you were too busy to hang out that one time? so does this mean he does hate you? does he like that person? what’s going to happen after that date?

you sit on your bed, osamu's text still on the screen. you don't need to read it again. you know what he said, and deep down, you know he's right.

you're too tired, too worn out from overthinking to keep holding yourself back.

"fuck it," you mutter under your breath, grabbing your phone with shaky hands. you can't keep doing this to yourself, wondering and worrying about what might have been. if you're going to get hurt, so be it.

you dial kuroo's number, not even sure what you're going to say. all you know is that you need to hear his voice, to see if there's anything left to salvage. the phone rings, your heart pounding in time with each tone.

"hello?"

a soft, unfamiliar voice greets you. your stomach drops. you blink, caught off guard. the voice is calm, too calm. you swallow hard, pushing down the rising wave of emotion.

"um, hi. can i ask who this is?" you ask, your voice flat, devoid of the energy you had moments ago.

"oh, sorry," she replies,

"i’m alisa. i was kuroo’s partner for his project."

notes

:)

:D

hehe im kinda excited ngl

btw ! undercurrents will be ending next week (like we're on the last two signals now! AHHHH)

anyway : D

taglist: @lvtilzs @rarararararq @iamfontenlos @kurooswifeyy @secretsunsetsociety @kagsnumnine @yumiecheesecrackers @tojirin @jaynawayna @noxva08 @zahrawr-writes-fanfics @mawenskiblue @smellysluna @cccccccccccleo @winniethepooh-lover @akirqx @cupidsblonde @kukkurookkoo@emotiandon @urslytherin