#no one could ever make me choose between them

[timmydraker]

Tim Drake who has a half-Chinese mother named Dai Lu Feng who travelled to study history in various countries and eventually met Jack Drake, an American archeologist who instantly fell in love with the assertive and intelligent woman.

When she eventually agrees to move to America, she had an argument with her parents that makes her cut them off, one she says is due to money when ever asked but is actually because of Drake.

Obviously they don’t have a problem with him being a white man, it’s more that he’s a white white man. He’s entitled, rude, and disrespectful to anyone he deems below him. He’s not obvious about it, but it’s clear he doesn’t really approve of Dai Lu’s family due to their middle class status but she can’t seem to see that, too enchanted by the fact that he listens to her talk about ancient history.

He seems to think class is all that matters, but most odd is how he treats his partners heritage.

When Jack tells her she will need an English name, she isn’t upset or surprised as that’s very normal and her father had already given her one, that being his own mother, Janet.

When Jack tells her to be cautious with who she speaks to incase they pick up her rather well hidden accent, she assumes it’s because Americans can often be cruel to Chinese due to all the propaganda and stereotypes.

When he tells her that she doesn’t need to keep her traditional clothes with her all the time, that they can stay safe in China, she isn’t as sure but at that point thought she would be returning frequently.

When she gets pregnant and excitedly tells him, she hears him over the phone with his ‘Gentleman’ friends saying, ‘Yeah, but she’s only half Chinese, so it’s not really interracial, is it?’ And then ‘Nah, the kid will look more like me, male genes are stronger and anyway, he won’t be learning Chinese so who cares!’

Dai Lu has the until thought to correct him ironically, the thought of defending her language which is Mandarin, thank you, stronger than it’s been in a long while. She’s so used to him not wanting her to talk her home tongue she’s stopped questioning it, stopped feeling that slight guilt of absorbing her culture and home.

Maybe it’s because she used to be bullied for it, that she always thought she would one day have to choose between being a Chinese woman like her mother or a professor in England like her father had been.

And Dai Lu is a smart woman, but she’s also just a human being. She gets scared, especially when it comes to the few people whose opinion she cares about.

What if she tries to go home to her family, to her parents and her sister, only to be shamed for running away from her husband just as she gets pregnant! What if they are mad at her for leaving? What if they judged her? What if she went back to China and everyone knew she abandoned her husband?

She didn’t need his money but damn it if she didn’t want his love.

Timothy Jackson Drake is born with his father choosing his names, his mother looking at him with a smile and heavy sadness is her eyes.

She knows he will be questioned on his heritage, that he will be called vile things, and she will teach him how to handle and respond to such things.

Janet will need to, because Tim looks so much like her and his father will blame him for it.

When Tim receives his mother’s inheritance and everything else she left him in her will, he finds a book he used to read with her as a kid.

Within The Velveteen Rabbit is a letter that reads as follows,

“My dear sweet boy,

I know I wasn’t the best mother to you, I know I should have done more. Been braver.

Alas, all I have to offer you to show my remorse and my love is the name I wished for you to be called, that you would have been given if I had been brave enough to return to my mother.

I love you, Shoi-Ming Feng, now and forever.”

Tim smiles for the first time after loosing her.

They weren’t as close as they could have been, but they lived each other.

He would always remember her teaching him of his culture in whispered voices while Jack was out of the house, of the small jade ring she kept hidden in her make up bag, and of the way she taught him the language she was to never speak in front of her husband as best she could.

Tim calls Bruce and asks him if he could be brought into the man’s care permanently, on the condition is last name be Feng-Wayne.

Bruce agrees without a second of hesitation.

[prlssprfctn]

"Who Is Afraid of Little Old Me?" is so Jason Todd core, and you are READY for this conversation.

'The scandal was contained

The bullet had just grazed

At all costs, keep your good name

You don't get to tell me you feel bad'

You tell me it is not about that one time Batman had finally faced Red Hood, with Joker being between them - as a reminder and a choice - ended up throwing a batarang in his neck (while Jason barely hurt him) and never told anyone else about this?

Is it a wonder I broke? Let's hear one more joke

Then we could all just laugh until I cry

And you tell me this is not about Jason's death? About his last minutes with Joker, about how they forever imprinted in the core of his memory, to the point that sometimes he laughs at them instinctively, until the realization doesn't kick in?

So I leap from the gallows and I levitate down your street

Crash the party like a record scratch as I scream

"Who's afraid of little old me?"

I was tame, I was gentle till the circus life made me mean

"Don't you worry, folks, we took out all her teeth"

Who's afraid of little old me?

Well, you should be

Is it not Red Hood who is back again, trying to return to Manor to remind others what happened to him?

So tell me everything is not about me

But what if it is?

Then say they didn't do it to hurt me

But what if they did?

… I wanna snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me

You wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me

Had Bruce and Dick ever wanted to hurt Jason, both in the past and in the present? No. Did it still happen? Is Jason still the one to live with these memories, unable to explain how it makes him feel? Yes.

So all you kids can sneak into my house with all the cobwebs

I'm always drunk on my own tears, isn't that what they all said?

That I'll sue you if you step on my lawn

That I'm fearsome and I'm wretched and I'm wrong

And if I say it is about Jason and all the kids that came after him that doesn't fully know who he is, but heard stories of Red Hood and violent Robin? They don't know a little boy who thought Robin gave him magic, the boy that died a hero — but they know Red Hood. And they heard of what a doomed, angry Robin he used to be.

And you hurt me

And you taught me

… You caged me and then you called me crazy

I am what I am 'cause you trained me

What is it if not Jason's POV towards Bruce? He is the crazy one now, a killer, a wrong one (not to mention these comics, where they actually threaten to send him to Arkham or Blackgate), but he is his father. His mentor. Still.

And some additional parts I want to add, because I think that they speak volumes too:

- "But my bare hands paved their paths, you don't get to tell me about sad"? I can't fully explain to you what I mean by putting this quote, but it is about Jason, crawling out from his grave (literally) and it is about everyone who stepped on the Robin path after. It is about his family making his death and grief about themselves at some point, leaving him nothing;

- "If you wanted me dead, you should've just said. Nothing makes me feel more alive" just one sentence — it is Jason about the batarang incident;

- A little detail, but I heard a lot of people complaining after the song's release that "Who is afraid of little old me?!" parts were at first loud, and they expected it to get to the full scream, but only ever got it becoming weaker, almost a whisper-like. And it is so Jason, too. Because he returns to scream, to yell, and he does at first. Until his anger washes out under disappointment and realization that he will never be chosen in a way he chooses people. And he doesn't scream anymore. Just whispers.

[antinousletmehit]

Could you do an Odyssey Telemachus with reader whose got a bit insecure cause the suiters are degrading them to some extent and now there questioning what telemachus sees in them? thank you in advance!!

The suitors were at it again. Their voices carried through the halls of Odysseus’s palace, their crude laughter and mocking words cutting through the air like a blade. You had tried to ignore them, focusing on your tasks, but their jeers grew louder, sharper, and aimed directly at you.

“Telemachus must be blind to be with someone like that,” one of them sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.

“More like desperate,” another chimed in. ��He could have anyone, and he chooses that?”

You froze in place, their words echoing in your mind. You felt the heat rise to your face, shame creeping up your spine. Were they right? You’d always known the suitors were cruel, but hearing them degrade you so openly—it made you question everything.

By the time you reached Telemachus’s chambers, the weight of their words had settled heavily on your chest. When you opened the door, he was there, sitting by the hearth, sharpening his sword. His eyes lit up when he saw you, but his smile quickly faded when he noticed your expression.“What’s wrong?” he asked, setting the blade aside and rising to his feet.

You hesitated, unsure if you should say anything. But the look of concern in his eyes pushed you to speak. “It’s the suitors,” you admitted quietly. “They… they said things about me.”

Telemachus’s brow furrowed, his jaw clenching. “What things?”

You looked down, unable to meet his gaze. “They said you could do better. That I’m not… enough.” Your voice broke on the last word, and you felt tears prick at your eyes. “Maybe they’re right. I don’t know what you see in me.” The room was silent for a moment before Telemachus stepped forward, his hands gently gripping your shoulders. When you finally looked up at him, his expression was a mixture of anger and determination.

“Don’t you ever say that again,” he said, his voice low and firm. “You are more than enough. You’re everything to me. Do you hear me?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he wasn’t done. “Those pathetic excuses for men have no idea what they’re talking about. They don’t know you like I do. They don’t see how strong, kind, and beautiful you are. And they sure as hell don’t get to make you doubt yourself.”

Tears spilled over as you whispered, “But what if—”

“No,” he cut you off, his grip tightening slightly. “There’s no ‘what if.’ You’re mine, and I’m yours. And anyone who has a problem with that will answer to me.”

He released your shoulders and picked up his sword, his eyes blazing with fury. “In fact, I think it’s time I reminded those bastards exactly who they’re dealing with.”

“Telemachus, wait,” you said, grabbing his arm. “You don’t have to—”

“Oh, I do,” he said, his voice dripping with venom. “They insulted you. They insulted us. And I’m not going to let that slide.”

Before you could protest further, he was already out the door, his sword in hand. You stood frozen for a moment, torn between stopping him and letting him go. You Eventually let him go, just to see a mix of his and the suitors screams

[babydollslibrary]

MINE (JACK’S VERSION) — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

published: August 6th, 2023

summary: in which careful y/n goes down memory lane with Jack, which leads to their first real fight

notes: i had to make this ‘Mine (Jack’s Version)’ because i already have a Trevor fic titled ‘Mine’

GIF by rask

my legs rest upon my boyfriend’s, his hands laying gently on top of my calves, our bodies slumped on the couch.

“remember that broken dresser drawer that you cleared out for my stuff?” i reminisce through broken laughter, making Jack’s face go pink and his head falls back as he chuckles.

“i didn’t realize it was broken when i cleared it out!” he defends himself, his right hand squeezing my left leg lightly.

“sure, you didn’t!”

“i swear!”

“okay, i’ll believe you.” i coo, pinching his cheek. he swats my hand away, capturing it in his and pulling it to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles.

“ooh, i’ve got one!” he exclaims. “remember the first time we sat by the water on the dock?”

“how could i forget? you put your arm around me and then we fell into the water because someone leaned too far forward.” Jack lets his mouth fall open in mock shock at my words.

“yeah, you!” he accuses and i shake my head rapidly through my giggles.

“nuh-uh! it was you!” i poke his chest.

“okay, it was me.” he pouts, his bottom lip sticking out, and i can’t resist sitting up and pulling his face to mine; crashing my lips onto his.

he pulls away first, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

“you are the best thing that’s ever been mine.” it’s spoken in a whisper, like a well-kept secret between just us. but there’s no secrecy, we’re loud and proud with our love. so loud with it, that Trevor regularly calls us disgusting.

“yours since August 2nd, 2021.” i bite my lip, busying my hands by ruffling them through his freshly trimmed hair.

his brows thread together, his nose crinkling.

“what?” i question, my hands stalling at the nape of his neck.

“that’s not the day we got together.” he laughs as if i’ve told a joke, but his response only makes me lean away from him.

“yeah. it is.” i state matter-of-factly.

“no…” he drags out, his tone makes me feel like i’m dumb, but i know i’m not. “we got together June 24th.”

it’s now my turn to furrow my brows, in complete confusion.

“no, Jack.” i insist. “we started dating on August 2nd.”

“i can guarantee; we did not.” he huffs, and lightly pushes my legs off of his lap. my hands untangle from behind his neck and i scoot backwards to fully see him better.

a normal couple probably wouldn’t be having this argument. but we’re not necessarily a normal couple.

we never had that defining moment of ‘what are we?’. we flirted heavily, we went on a few dates, and then one day he called me his girlfriend and that was that.

we’ve never really celebrated our anniversary, both agreeing that we’d only start if we get married in the future. so, i guess in a way, this misunderstanding is on us. we never bothered to clarify the date we got together, because i guess we both assumed we had the correct dates.

now, i can’t say i know where he got June 24th from, but i know August 2nd is the day he called me his girlfriend for the first time.

“i don’t know where you got June 24th from-” i start, but he cuts me off instantly.

“i don’t know where you got August 2nd from.” he snaps defensively.

it’s my turn for my brows to furrow, my face twisting in a mixture of confusion and hurt.

i can’t believe him.

i rise from the couch, choosing to leave while my emotions are still semi-intact.

“where are you going?” he questions. “gonna go check your planner? see that i’m right?”

oh, that’s low.

i know his words aren’t intentionally harmful, but using my planners against me is a new low.

Jack knew from the moment we met, that i was a meticulous and careful person. growing up, my father was never a punctual man, careless with time and with life. as a result, i started keeping planners. i filled them with important dates and appointments, things to do and things i refused to let myself forget. i was a perfectionist with them.

i mellowed out a bit with them when i started dating Jack; not as detailed, not as on top of things. when he found i had calmed down with them, he called me his ‘little rebel’.

now he’s using them against me. thinking that i’ll just go check and see that he’s right and i’m wrong.

“don’t do that.” i mumble, turning back around to look at him. he’s stood off the couch now, arms crossed over his chest. “don’t use my planners against me.”

“okay, then go look at them! see that i’m right!” he argues loudly, a hand flying up to point towards our lake house bedroom.

“i don’t need to look at them! because i know i’m right!” i belt, tears roll down my cheeks now and i’ve lost any attempt to stay quiet due to the 2:30am timing.

how can he even think we got together so early? he never asked me.

“August 2nd, you called me your girlfriend for the first time!” my finger pokes towards his chest. “i know because i went home that night and immediately wrote it down.”

done with this argument, i leave him behind in the living room, opting to go for a walk. the front door slams shut behind me, and i let out a sob.

Jack and i have never actually fought. in our entire two years together, we’ve never had a yelling fight like that.

my legs carry me towards the street, and i hear the front door open and slam shut once more. Jack’s footsteps follow behind me, speeding up until i feel a hand wrap around my arm, pulling me back to him.

he spins me around, my chest now pressed against his. he looks down at me with soft eyes, a frown pasted on his lips.

i brace myself, waiting for him to call it quits, as i’m used to. first sign of a disagreement or fight, and guys have always left. called me difficult or said i was too much.

but his next words take me by surprise.

“that was the night i first called you my girlfriend?” he questions, shaking his head lightly, as if he’s surprised.

“i thought you were my girlfriend from the night we first…” he trails off and it takes me a moment to realize what he means.

June 24th. the night we first slept together. the night we confessed we liked each other.

“oh.” i breath out. “you never actually said anything about it or asked me. i always just thought that you called me your girlfriend on August 2nd and i didn’t oppose so that was that.”

i sniffle as he chuckles, his hands coming up to cup my face, his thumbs wiping away my tears.

“we probably should’ve figured this out a long time ago, eh?”

“yeah, i guess so.” i shrug.

“why were you crying, baby? it wasn’t that serious. just a little hiccup.” his blue eyes stare deep into mine, and i get shy under his gaze.

“i thought you were gonna break up with me.” i confess in a whisper. “it’s what i’m used to.”

he’s quiet for a moment, just staring at me in shock before he presses a kiss to my forehead, his lips mumbling against my skin.

“i’ll never leave you alone.”

[wadewnstonwilson]

do you want to play a game?

summary: Wade Wilson (Deadpool) finds himself strapped to a sadistic torture chair in a room filled with gruesome contraptions, yet he remains gleefully sarcastic, much to the frustration of Jigsaw's ominous puppet.

word count: 1.6k

trigger warnings: violence, gore, torture, body horror

authors note: this was a headcanon idea someone posted a while back and asked to have a fic written about it, if it was you please let me know so I can properly tag you!

The room was dimly lit, a mixture of cold steel and rusted iron making up its gruesome decor. Wade Wilson, the infamous Deadpool, sat in the center of the room strapped to a chair, surrounded by a series of sadistic contraptions clearly meant to inspire terror. For most people, this would be the worst day of their lives. But Wade? Wade was thrilled.

“Well, hello, Mr. Saw!” Wade chirped with all the enthusiasm of a kid meeting their favorite mascot at Disneyland. His voice echoed through the dimly lit, blood-streaked room, cutting through the oppressive silence like a hot knife through butter. Strapped securely to a steel chair, Wade looked more like a man sitting in for a casual dental cleaning than someone caught in the clutches of a notorious serial killer.

The room smelled of rust and mildew, the air thick with the metallic tang of dried blood. Around him were a variety of deadly contraptions: gears, blades, and wires all meticulously arranged in a manner that suggested their designer had spent a bit too much time watching home renovation shows. Wade wasn’t scared. If anything, he was curious.

He squinted at the giant monitor flickering to life before him. The screen revealed the infamous Jigsaw puppet, its soulless eyes staring back at him with what Wade could only interpret as disapproval. “Okay, seriously,” Wade continued, completely ignoring the ominous vibe, “do you get these machines wholesale, or are they custom jobs? Because I gotta tell ya, the craftsmanship here? Chef’s kiss.”

The puppet’s expression remained unchanged, its head tilting slightly as if processing Wade’s commentary.

“I mean,” Wade went on, craning his neck as much as his restraints would allow, “are those hand-welded joints? No, really, this is top-tier work. I’ve seen Avengers tech, and honestly? Kinda mid compared to this. Do you have a Pinterest board for inspiration? Or do you just wing it?”

The puppet’s voice crackled through the speaker, distorted and menacing. “I want to play a game.”

“Oh! Oh!” Wade exclaimed, practically vibrating in his seat with excitement. “Twister? Monopoly? No wait, let me guess—Candyland! I love Candyland. Can I be the gumdrop guy? No one ever lets me be the gumdrop guy.”

The puppet’s eye twitched. Or, at least, Wade imagined it did. “Your constant need for validation and unrelenting irreverence have landed you here. If you do not escape this trap in time, your body will be—”

“—ripped apart, blood everywhere, yadda yadda, we get it. You really need a new schtick, Jiggy. I mean, what’s next, making me choose between tacos and chimichangas? Ha! Joke’s on you—I don’t choose. Ever.”

A metallic whir sounded as the trap sprung into action. Sharp blades inched closer to Wade’s arms, clearly designed to slice them off unless he solved the contraption before him.

“Neat,” Wade muttered, leaning as far as the straps allowed to get a closer look. “Do these things come in red?”

------

Logan Howlett prowled through the shadow-choked labyrinth of the abandoned city district, his boots crunching softly against the cracked pavement. The air was thick with the stench of mildew, rotting wood, and despair—an oppressive cocktail that clung to his heightened senses like oil on water. Neon lights flickered weakly from the occasional shattered sign, casting brief, eerie glows across graffitied walls and broken windows. This place had been dead for years, left to fester in its decay.

It was the kind of place Wade Wilson would love.

That thought made Logan’s scowl deepen, his jaw tightening as his claws slid out of his knuckles with a soft snikt. The silver blades glinted faintly in the dim light, their familiar weight offering a grim reassurance. Wade hadn’t answered a single one of Logan’s calls in days. Normally, that would’ve been a welcome reprieve—Logan wasn’t exactly the type to miss Wade’s incessant jokes or ceaseless chatter. But this time, something was off. Wade didn’t just not show up. The guy was like a damn cockroach, always turning up where you least expected him, unkillable and annoying as hell. For him to go silent? That meant trouble.

“Where the hell are ya, Wilson?” Logan growled under his breath, his gravelly voice swallowed by the shadows around him.

He came to a halt, sniffing the air. His hyper-sensitive nose twitched as he sifted through the various odors polluting the area—garbage, oil, rat droppings, the faint tang of rusted metal. And then he caught it, faint but distinct: the unmistakable scent of blood. Not just any blood. Wade’s.

Logan’s teeth clenched as he closed his eyes and inhaled again, isolating the scent. It was there, mixed with sweat and... something else. Fear? No. Wade didn’t do fear. It was exhaustion. Pain. The kind of pain that would kill a lesser man ten times over.

His claws slid back into his hands as he moved, quick and silent, through the maze of alleys. The scent grew stronger, more focused, leading him deeper into the heart of the district. He passed crumbling buildings with boarded-up windows, their skeletal remains groaning in protest against the night wind. A flicker of movement caught his eye—a rat scurrying across his path—but he ignored it. His focus was razor-sharp now, his instincts taking over as he tracked the trail.

The scent led him to a narrow alley that terminated in a massive steel door. It was dented and rusted, the kind of industrial barrier that screamed bad news. A faint smear of blood marked the handle, barely visible in the dim light, but Logan’s eyes caught it immediately. He placed a hand on the door, pausing for a moment to listen. His sharp hearing picked up the hum of machinery inside, accompanied by faint, muffled voices. Or maybe just one voice.

“Wilson,” Logan muttered, his voice a low rumble. His claws unsheathed again, a primal response to the growing anger roiling in his gut. He pushed the door, and it gave slightly under his strength, creaking open just enough to let him slip inside.

The interior was worse than he expected. It was a labyrinth of machinery and steel, a factory of nightmares brought to life. Gears turned noisily, chains rattled, and the faint smell of burnt metal stung his nose. The walls were lined with grotesque contraptions, each one a testament to the sadistic mind that had designed them. But Logan barely registered the horror of the place. His focus was on one thing—the idiot who’d managed to get himself into this mess.

Wade’s scent was stronger now, the blood fresher. Logan followed it through the maze of corridors, his movements a combination of raw instinct and calculated precision. Every muscle in his body was coiled, ready to strike. He rounded a corner, his sharp hearing picking up something new—laughter. Muffled, but undeniably familiar. It was Wade’s laugh, laced with exhaustion and a little bit of hysteria.

“Son of a—” Logan bit off the curse as he quickened his pace.

The sound of his boots on the grated floor echoed faintly, but he didn’t care about stealth anymore. He could feel the beast inside him clawing at the edges of his control, the primal part of him that wanted to tear through whatever or whoever had put Wade in this situation. The scent was nearly overwhelming now, and as he rounded another corner, the sight before him stopped him cold.

There was Wade, suspended in the middle of the room by a series of chains and straps. His suit was torn to shreds, revealing patches of raw, bloodied skin that glistened under the harsh, flickering lights. A grotesque contraption of blades and gears hovered dangerously close to his body, clearly designed to inflict as much pain as possible without delivering a killing blow. Not that Wade would die, of course. That was the point, wasn’t it? Keep him alive. Make him suffer.

And yet, despite the carnage, Wade’s maskless face split into a wide, bloody grin the moment he saw Logan.

“Logie-bear!” Wade called out, his voice hoarse but still infuriatingly cheerful. He waved weakly, his hand slick with blood. “You found me! Took you long enough, you big, hairy softie.”

Logan’s growl was low and guttural, his claws snapping out with a metallic snikt as his gaze swept over the room. His chest heaved with barely contained rage, the feral side of him threatening to take over. He took one step closer, his amber eyes locked on Wade.

“You’re a goddamn idiot,” Logan snarled.

“And you’re a goddamn knight in shining adamantium,” Wade shot back, coughing slightly but still managing to sound insufferable. “Now, how about you get me down from here before I lose more blood? Not that I’m complaining—I mean, it’s great for weight loss, but—”

“Shut up, Wilson,” Logan snapped, but his claws were already slicing through the chains holding Wade. He caught the mercenary as he fell, holding him awkwardly but securely.

“Aw, you do care,” Wade muttered, resting his head against Logan’s shoulder.

Logan didn’t respond. He was too busy glaring at the room, silently daring anything—or anyone—to try stopping them. The beast inside him wasn’t done yet, but for now, it could wait. First, he needed to get Wade out of here. Then, he’d deal with the bastard responsible for this.

“Let’s go,” Logan growled, carrying Wade toward the exit.

“Thanks, Daddy,” Wade murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion but still managing to be as annoying as ever.

Logan sighed. “I should’ve left you in the chair.”

[bitkahuna]

“I love you, Bilbo.”

“I love you too, Thorin.”

The rest of their picnic would be filled with cloud gazing, sharing stories of their childhoods, and gentle laughter. Both of them relished in the warmth of the day and each other's company. Each would remember that day as one of their happiest.

Bilbo's tattoos danced with life as he performed small feats of magic, creating patterns in the grass or making flowers bloom for Thorin's amusement. The acts were small. But each and every one made Thorin smile. Made him laugh. That was when a hand gripped Bilbo’s heart as he realized he was absolutely hopeless. He’d do anything for that smile.

“What’s wrong?” The king would ask as he noticed the unshed tears and pained smile.

“I didn’t know love felt like this. More than I ever imagined anything could feel like. And it’s just so much.” The hobbit shook his head. “Do you know I would do anything for you?”

“Bilbo, ye done so much. Killed for me.”

“I would live for you, too.”

Thorin was silent for a moment, his mouth agape before he closed it. “Ye already have. Died, and gave up your paradise to come back to me and to Erebor.” He shook his head. “You never had to leave your hobbit hole in the first place for a dwarf you didn’t even know, on a mission that would have been doomed if not for you.”

“I’d choose it again.” His lip trembled. He didn’t know why. “I think I would always have chosen you.”

Thorin’s fists clenched, biting back any tears that threatened to fall. “I love you.” Was all he could say. “I choose you.” Was all he had.

That moment between them in the restored forest of Erebor, a forest that hadn’t been whole since Thorin was a child, would be one of their last moments of peace until it was time to retake Dol Guldur.

-----

lmao they gay

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

THE VIRMIRE SURVIVOR SURVIVORS

Spectre Ashley Williams & Spectre Kaidan Alenko "Not a lot of other people have had my back since the beginning..." Mass Effect: Legendary Edition (2021)

[casualavocados]

Learn from who? Learn from you?

Chen Bowen as CHEN YI & Chiang Tien as AI DI KISEKI: DEAR TO ME (2023)

[possamble]

What are your headcanons about Marcille's mom if you have any? It's interesting that what drew Donato to her was cause she lived the history he studied, or that was said somewhere at least. She must've had an interesting life.

so this was going to be just a normal answer but then I realized I have a Lot of Things To Say. so here goes, a compilation of what we know for a fact from the canon, what I've extrapolated from the visual cues and details, and my theories based on all of that.

Things we know for a fact about Marcille's mother because they were explicitly stated in the manga and supplemental materials:

She was a court mage for a Tall-man kingdom at the southern part of the Northern Continent

Donato, a court historian, fell in love with her because she had lived through the history he was studying, and he courted her for 17 years (age 15 to 32) before getting married

She was a cheerful person who rarely showed extreme emotion and took things as they came

She always cooked a huge meal for Marcille on her birthdays

She remarried a gnome after Donato's death and a short distance away from Marcille's childhood home

Pipi, Marcille's pet bird, was actually older than Marcille and originally belonged to her mother (bird died at 62)

She was extremely heartbroken when Donato died and ultimately ended up instilling a deep fear of mortality in Marcille with her words

the only time she showed extreme emotion in front of her family was when Donato could no longer eat his favourite dish near the end of his life.

She scolded Marcille for being cruel to ants (implying she can have a stern side when needed)

Things that are explicitly shown but mostly through visual cues

She has a very distinctive style of dress always involving a ribbon choker (mirroring Marcille's habit of always wearing a matching choker with any of her outfits that don't cover her neck)

She was almost stereotypically good at housekeeping and traditionally "wifely" things (very frequently depicted wearing an apron or doing some domestic chore when not at work, seems to have been an avid cook).

She knits? (also, note the affectionate smile as she's looking at Donato and Marcille reading a book together in the full panel)

She was as excited for Marcille's milestones as Donato was.

She didn't tell Marcille much about elven food

(there are a couple things that this panel in particular implies:

She lived a good deal of her life (if not being born and raised) in a mainly elven country in the West, implied by her knowing enough of an elven region's cuisine to prefer Tall-man food over it

seems to have a pretty carefree and casual demeanour overall, if this is how she replied to Marcille asking her about it (sounds like she never gave her culinary preferences that much thought to begin with)

slightly related to number 2, it seems like she and Marcille had a fairly casual parent-child dynamic (especially in comparison to the Toudens' memory of their father)

(local elf tastes Italian food once and never goes back))

However, she seems a lot more... serious in most of the other times we see her? Almost like the very stereotypical archetype of a graceful elf.

Subsequent conclusions about her personality:

Usually pretty carefree and cheerful at home, has been a loving and attentive parent throughout Marcille's childhood (while not being so doting that she didn't discipline Marcille).

Slightly more conjectural theories on her personality:

Had a much more graceful and professional personality at work, which would explain the more serious portraits we see of her.

Given that both she and Donato had positions at the royal court, it seems a little odd that she'd go out of her way to do all the housework herself, so maybe she just enjoyed doing it?

Now taping all the evidence together and toeing the line between analysis and fanfiction:

It's clear that she loved Donato very much and was utterly devastated by losing him. But there's one thing that really stuck out to me in what little we see of her:

Doesn't she seem... angry? The way she's gritting her teeth, clutching the tablecloth, and how this is the first and only time we see her eyes opened that wide. In the following panel, you see her being quiet and dejected after her initial outburst. She's still crying very intensely, but her brows are furrowed, and she's not really responding to Donato's affection in her body language.

We're not told the details of how she felt about losing Donato other than that it upset her. But this, to me, implies that she was angry and resented that he was aging, that the end of his life was approaching. An "it's not fair" type of preemptive grief. And if this was the first and last time she cried like this in front of her family, she was either very good at coping in private... or very bad at letting herself feel unpleasant emotions until they become unavoidable and end up overwhelming her.

It's not too remarkable a detail on the surface. It's even reminiscent of what the audience has seen of Marcille. But... when it comes to the big picture, you'd think an elf who voluntarily chose to marry a tall-man and have a half-elf child would have been better prepared for this.

It kind of recontextualizes her cheerfulness to me.

"I'm sure everything's gonna be okay!" (or some variation thereof, depending on what translation you have).

And this is stated to contrast her extreme grief when finally confronting Donato's failing body and eventual death. But I'm wondering if... maybe this optimism was why she was so upset. What if she went into all of it thinking "everything's gonna be okay"? What if she was a little young by elven standards, and just followed her heart thinking that her own resilience would get her through anything?

Of course, only to get completely overwhelmed when she actually loses Donato. She turns into a completely different person. And that's heartbreaking on its own-- but what the audience sees is the effect it had on Marcille. Can you imagine being her, watching your invincible and upbeat mother suddenly lose all the light in her eyes in one go?

I've already made a huge post about how I think Marcille models her "work persona" off her mother, but another thing that stuck with me as I was looking for more details in the manga was this:

copy pasting from the other post i made about it lmao it's like... the second she resigns herself to lifelong pain and terror, there's another portrait of her mother facing her like this. with their heads bowed, in mirrored body language of resignation and despair and sorrow. Except it's posed like Marcille is still looking at her mother but her mother is looking away.

It took me a second to realize, but I think that it's a visual metaphor for the fact that Marcille's mother was the only long-lived role model she had-- and she failed to model healthy grief for her daughter. I don't say this as an accusation or to disparage her as a character, but just as a matter of fact. In her, Marcille was seeing herself older and losing a short-lived spouse or loved one of her own, and all she saw was hopelessness.

But her mother didn't mean to instill hopelessness and terror in her. She wasn't really thinking of how it would truly affect Marcille at all (at least, that's how I'm interpreting her looking down and away from Marcille in the metaphor), she was just sad. And she, in her own way, was trying to protect her daughter and help her prepare for future losses.

What she meant was "loss is inevitable, and you have to learn how to be in pain but live on anyway." What Marcille heard was "loss is inevitable, and you will be scared and hurt for the rest of your life."

Again. Marcille's mother doesn't feature explicitly in the story the way her father does -- but in so many ways, her shadow, her silhouette, her reflection is always hanging over Marcille.

All that to say... headcanon-wise (everything from here on is 100% without evidence lmao), I'd like to think that she matured and realized that she failed Marcille. I imagine her being regretful about it, wanting a chance to fix it but never finding a way to insert herself back into Marcille's life when Marcille is so so so busy becoming the most accomplished mage possible. I imagine her being herself again, now, so many years after her loss and after remarrying -- but with her cheerfulness tempered with a lot more wisdom and the pain of having gone through loss like that. I think the second Marcille actually tells her what happened in the dungeon, she'd want to go running to her daughter again -- if Marcille tells her the full truth instead of just being embarrassed she let things get that far. (oh, the tragedy of her wanting to be more like her mother and an accomplished adult who doesn't need to be babied... being embarrassed to actually tell her mother how much she fucked up...)

There's also the tension of her having remarried -- I know that there's at least a little bit of resentment that Marcille harbours about that, because she's childish like that at heart even if she makes an effort not to externalize it. I think that her mother would be aware of that, potentially adding to her sense of guilt and apprehension at trying to reappear/intrude on Marcille's life. I honestly don't think Marcille has met her stepfather -- or even considers him a stepfather rather than "mama's new husband" and kind of a total stranger. I think she and her mother actively don't talk about it in their correspondence, like an elephant in the room.

but, ultimately, I think her mother is on her side no matter what. Ancient magic? Dark necromancy? Sure, she'll feel guilty and like she was partially responsible for setting Marcille down such a painful path, but she wouldn't care. that's her daughter!! she would've moved back west and been petitioning for her at the court, buying a house right next to the Canaries barracks and visiting her every day that she wasn't on a mission. And if her husband had opinions on Marcille becoming a "dark arts user," he either gets over it or it's divorce with him. Yes, she might have had her optimism completely humbled by losing Donato like that -- but she's still headstrong and self-assured and she doesn't care what people think of her. It's her way or the highway and she's always going to be in Marcille's corner.

(She also needs a name lol. I went with Juno, just to be cute about "Marcille"s closest real life equivalent being Marcella, which is the female version of Marcellus, which in turn is a diminutive of Marcus, which was derived from Mars. Absolutely in love with Marcille potentially being named after Ares/Mars the fucking god of war btw)

[spotaus]

Late Night quick thing (New Age Sillies)

Bad news: That joke post about including Reset + Orchid is definitely not canon. (I legit got sad thinking about Reset being in a universe where Orchid isn't- because their stories are so so intertwined- but Nightmare 100% would NOT risk the whole twins exploding Error's soul thing.)

Good news: This means I COULD include Kane (Reset's older brother who usually dies in timelines where Reset is born) and use it to develope his character a bit more! Also! Perhaps a Blue × Dream kiddo is finally in the stars for me to design?

[tytonnidaie]

i love to read meta of knives as an abuser and nod my head thoughtfully at all great points and then once the post ends i go back to considering him as my darling son who never did anything wrong ever

[asclexeposting]

sometimes i feel jealous of cisgender people but then. i dont it’s whatever man. no wait i am. i am very jealous of cisgender people in a fucked up way. what

[absentlyabbie]

seriously, though. i work in higher education, and part of my job is students sending me transcripts. you'd think the ones who have the least idea how to actually do that would be the older ones, and while sure, they definitely struggle with it, i see it most with the younger students. the teens to early 20s crowd.

very, astonishingly often, they don't know how to work with .pdf documents. i get garbage phone screenshots, sometimes inserted into an excel or word file for who knows what reason, but most often it's just a raw .jpg or other image file.

they definitely either don't know how to use a scanner, don't have access to one, or don't even know where they might go for that (staples and other office supply stores sometimes still have these services, but public libraries always have your back, kids.) so when they have a paper transcript and need to send me a copy electronically, it's just terrible photos at bad angles full of thumbs and text-obscuring shadows.

mind bogglingly frequently, i get cell phone photos of computer screens. they don't know how to take a screenshot on a computer. they don't know the function of the Print Screen button on the keyboard. they don't know how to right click a web page, hit "print", and choose "save as PDF" to produce a full and unbroken capture of the entirety of a webpage.

sometimes they'll just copy the text of a transcript and paste it right into the message of an email. that's if they figure out the difference between the body text portion of the email and the subject line, because quite frankly they often don't.

these are people who in most cases have done at least some college work already, but they have absolutely no clue how to utilize the attachment function in an email, and for some reason they don't consider they could google very quickly for instructions or even videos.

i am not taking a shit on gen z/gen alpha here, i'm really not.

what i am is aghast that they've been so massively failed on so many levels. the education system assumed they were "native" to technology and needed to be taught nothing. their parents assumed the same, or assumed the schools would teach them, or don't know how themselves and are too intimidated to figure it out and teach their kids these skills at home.

they spend hours a day on instagram and tiktok and youtube and etc, so they surely know (this is ridiculous to assume!!!) how to draft a formal email and format the text and what part goes where and what all those damn little symbols means, right? SURELY they're already familiar with every file type under the sun and know how to make use of whatever's salient in a pinch, right???

THEY MUST CERTAINLY know, innately, as one knows how to inhale, how to type in business formatting and formal communication style, how to present themselves in a way that gets them taken seriously by formal institutions, how to appear and be competent in basic/standard digital skills. SURELY. Of course. RIGHT!!!!

it's MADDENING, it's insane, and it's frustrating from the receiving end, but even more frustrating knowing they're stumbling blind out there in the digital spaces of grown-up matters, being dismissed, being considered less intelligent, being talked down to, because every adult and system responsible for them just

ASSUMED they should "just know" or "just figure out" these important things no one ever bothered to teach them, or half the time even introduce the concepts of before asking them to do it, on the spot, with high educational or professional stakes.

kids shouldn't have to supplement their own education like this and get sneered and scoffed at if they don't.

[vogelmeister]

(when i say general i mean standard 2 and 2 unit is advanced)

[simpjaes]

CUNNILINGUIST ― s.jy (ft. p.sh)

Unfortunately for you, no man has ever given you some good head. Fortunately for you, your best friend is more annoyed by it than you are. It’s just a favor, right? or the one where your best friend jake eats you out as a way to admit his own feelings for you, also, apparently sunghoon existing is an issue.

minors dni! | kindly leave feedback and reblog to give bestie jake conflicting feelings

WORDCOUNT― 16.1 k

PAIRING― jake x afab reader (ft. sunghoon)

CONTENT― a lot of waiting, like to the point it even annoyed me, very fluffy stuff , typical best friends to fuck buddies to “actually, I had feelings this whole time”, jealousy, jake is whiny and needy when he’s horny, reader thinks it’s cute. angst if you’re a baby about it

OTHER CHARACTERS― sunghoon as the mutual friend who bangs reader

NOTE― this was originally written by me on my other blog [@/ncteez], if you’ve read it before, that’s why!

smut tags under cut:: 

smut tags― BIG DICKED BESTIE, pussy eating (he gets IN THERE), masturbation in the form of dry humping a mattress and then into his hand, finger fucking, cum eating, sunghoon hook up, morning sex, lazy fingering, lazy fuck, dirty talk , unprotected sex, awkward build up,raw grinding, no blowjob in sight sorry lmao, deep penetration, cream pie, kind of cum stuffing but like not entirely intentional, cheesy love stuff 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“What? Again?” Jake says, leaning back against the couch with a groan and a smack to his own forehead.

“Yeah, so basically he went down on me for less than a minute but expected me to, like, go long enough to ‘swallow’ or whatever.” You continue the story in a frustrated huff, shaking your head in self-pity.

Jake groans louder, leaning himself forward again and swiping his drink from your coffee table to take a long and thoughtful sip. 

“How many times is that, then?” He says between sips, glancing around the room as if he’s in deep thought. “I can’t help but think you pick these kinds of guys on purpose at this point.”

You look at him in mock pain, grabbing his drink and taking your own thoughtful sip of it.

“I dunno, they always talk big game during phone sex and stuff. I figure eventually one of them will live up to it.” You drone on, internally marking your recent date’s name off of your call-back list. 

“Be honest with me, have you ever actually gotten good head? Like how would you know if they’re bad if you have nothing good to compare them to?” Jake asks, letting you mindlessly drink his beverage.

It’s not weird to be having these types of conversations with him, if at all, something would seem off if you didn’t. He’s the only person in your life that you’ve ever felt this close to. At this point, you think he’d have to chase you down with a bloody hatchet for things to be awkward. Which is…kind of interesting, you guess.

“Well, I mean,” You think for a moment too long for his liking, but he gives you the space to finish your answer. “It feels good and all but it’s not like I’ve ever gotten off by it.”

“Correction –” Jake starts, blinking right at you. “You’ve never been given the chance to get off on it.” His bright  smile shows through his words, and you’re sure he’s mocking you at this point.

“Yeah, yeah. Yada, yada. I have terrible taste in sexual partners but to be fair, it’s not like the pool is that big to choose from.”

He nods in agreement, humming as if to end the conversation and still watching you sip at his drink.

“Would you be opposed to–” He pauses, making eye contact with you. “Y’know, I could do it for you.”

You pause, nearly dropping his drink out of your hand but thankfully your grip actually tightens on it instead. You swallow as you look at him, searching his face to see if this is some kind of joke.

“Jae-fucking-yun,” You deadpan, sitting his cup back down on your coffee table and leaning toward him, staring him down. “You’d really do that, for me?”

You bat your eyelashes at him, mostly playing it off as a half-joke just to see if he’s fucking with you or not. 

“How else are you gonna experience it?” 

You stare him down harder.

“You say that like you’re some sort of pussy-eating-god,” You narrow your eyes. “Are you?”

He shrugs casually with his little smile, leaning back on your couch and stretching his arms out. One of his hands lands behind your shoulder and you lean into it. 

“I’d let you be the judge of that if you’re up for it.”

Finally, you decide that he’s definitely not joking and you’re definitely gonna do it because like, that’s your best friend. Experiencing your firsts with him comes almost as naturally as walking. You had your first kiss with him, albeit it was a dare. You experienced your first concert with him, your first break up, your first failed exam, and even your first legal drink in a club. What’s so bad about letting him eat you out?

“Right now?” You ask, quirking your brow and tilting your head.

“Now, tomorrow, next week. Whenever.” He runs his hands through his hair as he says it and only now are you starting to really tune into his features that you’ve already found handsome.

Day after day you’ve seen him on this couch and in other states of dress without really thinking twice about how his lips would feel on you (despite that short first kiss). You’ve seen him kissing all up on other people, you’ve seen him in the club with wet lips from alcohol, you’ve seen him all messy and eating spaghetti at his parent’s house– but for some reason, his lips seem different now. His sleepy eyes seem different, his messy hair seems like something that should be tugged on, his fucking jawline– 

“Why’re you staring at me like that?” He looks at you up and down as if he’s judging. “You wanna go right now?”

You nod slowly, letting the traces of any lusty thoughts you’ve had about him in your life come to the front in waves. Then you quickly shake your head.

“Wait, no,” You roll your eyes more at yourself than him. “I haven’t showered since my date, maybe I should, uh…”

“Uh – yeah. Please do.” He grimaces, that same dopey smile coming back after a moment. 

“Fair.” You roll your eyes. “Gonna go shower then.” 

Part of you wonders if like, he’s being totally legit. For all you know, you’ll get out of the shower and he’ll be too busy doing something else, or like, he’ll go home or something. No hurt in seeing though.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

In the bathroom, you can’t help the feeling in your chest at even the thought that this may be about to happen.

Excitement. That’s what you feel. Not because it’s Jake. Well, maybe a little bit because you wanna see what his tongue is all about but more so because you’re about to get some presumably good head.

You shower thoughtfully, cleaning every part of your body and feeling little goosebumps rise and fall with each sensation of your air conditioning snaking its way past your shower doors. When you get out, you lotion your body so you’re all nice and soft and brush your teeth just in case things go a little further. You’re not expecting it to, but y’know, nothing wrong with having fun if it comes to it. 

After all, he’s doing you a favor by going down on you, the least you can do is smell good, be soft, and totally prepared for if he were to suggest more, right? Right. Anyway, you’re all showered up and opt to just let your hair do its own thing as you throw on your shirt and shorts. You ignore the panties at this point, because why not?

When you get back to the living room, Jake isn’t there. Naturally, you check your bedroom and there he is, still his normal self and lounging against your headboard while flipping through videos on his phone. 

“And she’s back,” he comments, reaching a hand out as if to invite you to your own bed. “Change your mind yet?”

“Not even for a second,” you smile as you take a spot in front of him, your entire body facing him as you pull your knees up and lay your chin against your arms. “Have you?”

He seems to fall into a more serious tone now, locking his phone before tossing it to the side and flicking his eyes up to look at you, scanning your legs in the shorts. 

“No,” he chokes back, shocked to see straight between the gap of your shorts and actually lay eyes on the point of this whole situation for the first time. “And you’re not wearing anything under those shorts.”

You watch his face and the way it turns from your best friend into something you’ve seen time and time again from men you’ve gone home with. It’s sexy on him though, for some reason.

“Figured I’d save you the trouble?”

He smiles, now moving himself toward you and reaching a hand behind to cradle your head. 

“Lay back,” he says softly, in a voice you’ve only heard a few times from him, “you could have left the shorts off too though.” He adds with an even softer laugh.

For some reason, it makes you feel shy. His hand guiding you to lay back all while grabbing the pillow from behind him and placing it under your head so that you’re nice and comfortable.  You watch him look at you and honestly, it’s in a way you can’t remember him ever looking at you before. If this is how he looks at other women, you may be a little jealous. 

It feels more intense right now than you thought it would.

“You’re being weird.” You say offhandedly, looking away from him and trying to keep the heat from flushing to your cheeks. 

“You’re letting me eat you out, how am I being weird?” He leans up from you, putting two hands on your knees but still waiting for your eyes to meet his again. “You want me to act like the other dudes? Dip my tongue in then wrap it up?”

You groan, rolling your eyes back to him and analyzing the way his big hands drape over your knees. 

“Okay, fair.” You admit defeat, feeling his warm palms move down the back of your thighs and to your ass. 

“Lift up,” He says, quickly pulling the shorts off of you when you do as he asks. 

“Oh–” He gasps quietly. “Damn.”

He stares directly between your legs, bracing his hands back at your knees and spreading your legs a bit. He angles his head in different ways to really look at you, seemingly enamored with your pussy as a whole. 

“Look who’s staring now.” You chuckle, instinctively hiding your face from him despite knowing he isn’t looking up at you.

“Yeah– I am,” he admits, now adjusting himself on the bed to lay down, his head easily slotting between your legs as he rests his chin on your lower belly and looks up at you. “You can pull my hair or do whatever, I’m just gonna…like, start I guess. Tell me if it’s something you don’t like.”

As normal as this isn’t, he’s speaking similar to how the two of you had taken on projects before. He typically takes the lead but offers you control more often than not. All you can do is nod at him, trying to comprehend that it’s your best friend’s head between your legs right now.

When he pulls his head back up with one last nod of confirmation, the first thing you feel is his fingers slipping up your folds, the other braced on your thigh and holding your legs open. You release a short sigh of relief at the feeling and he instantly smirks at it. 

“I haven’t even started yet,” He whispers, glancing up at you before fixing his eyes back on the expanse of your pussy. He uses his ring and pointer finger to spread your lips open, and the middle finger to rub against your hole only for a brief moment before he licks his lips and releases his own sigh of relief. “God, Sunghoon would be so jealous right now.”

You look down at him, wanting to ask him what the fuck he’s talking about and why he’d bring up Sunghoon right now, but you find yourself staring at him instead. Breath caught in your throat with the way his eyes meet yours before letting his tongue hang from his mouth as if presenting it to you in a cheeky way.

He’s so fast with it too, with the way he replaces his middle finger with his tensed tongue, forcing you to swallow your words and hold your breath even more. You can feel him lick and nibble against each of your lips before moving inward, flattening his tongue to lick one long, languid, and wet stripe up until meeting your clit. 

He wraps his lips around it, sucking once, hard, before releasing it and pulling back to look at you.

“This okay?”

Goddamn him for making you have to talk right now. You’re still trying to comprehend the fact that he said Sunghoon, fucking Sunghoon of all people would be jealous that he’s doing this right now. That’s definitely a question for later, because yeah, it’s fucking okay. 

More than okay. 

You nod to him, throwing your arm over your eyes and instinctively bucking your hips up towards his hovering mouth. 

“Oh, that was hot,” He groans out his compliment, watching the way you hide your face before he pulls his eyes back down and uses his fingers to spread your pussy open wider, enough to see your hole pulsate when he dips down to blow against it, “I can see how wet you’re getting, Is it because of me or is it just because someone is playing with your pussy?”

You half groan half moan at that, mostly because hearing these words from him is something that feels entirely too sexual. As if he hasn’t already tasted you, as if you’re not spread out by his fingers right now. You ignore his words, yet, your brain holds onto them with white knuckles and your hips buck toward him again.

“Not a talker, got it.” He notes, watching your hips chase his breath. 

He watches for much longer than you’d like for him to, and you’re about to lift up and accuse him of being just like the other guys but he shuts your thoughts off so fucking fast when you feel his lips on you again. 

His tongue explores every part of you, licking and sucking against areas you didn’t even know would feel good until his mouth lands against your clit again. This time, you can’t help it, you grind up and he hums at it as he braces your legs open just enough to skew his head and move his tongue back down. 

He’s slurping. Lost in the moment as he does it. Tasting you in full and getting a warm, pleasant feeling each time your legs try to close and your hips buck up for more. He…can’t believe this is finally happening. Fucking finally.

Unsure if you’d let him, he tries anyway. He stiffens his tongue, circling your hole before pressing just a bit, giving you just enough pressure that you feel frustrated. So frustrated that you’re the one who ends up finishing his attempt at something new. You reach down and lace your fingers in his hair, and let out a soft, needy little moan for him. 

That sound forces one from his chest too, he can’t help it, really. With the way you’re grabbing his hair and holding his head in place, pressing yourself against his mouth so much harder than before. Ah, he really, really loves doing this for you. 

To think any man would already be done? To think anyone could like, not wanna eat you out? Insanity. Stupid, stupid fucking men.

He can taste how wet you are now, truly taste it as he stretches your hole as much as he can with his tongue and another groan of his own. It’s probably embarrassing, truly, but he doesn’t care. 

Both of you are moaning at this point as you hold his head in place and grind your hips harder than you think you are. He loves it, you love it. So much that you really are barely comprehending that your best friend could do this the whole time?! And never told you until now?!

Jake is just as drunk on the moment as you are though. Totally lost in the scent and taste of you as he continues to lap away, constantly trying to prove that you can and will get off from his mouth alone. And honestly? It’s at the point that he figures he can use his fingers now too considering you let him spread you open with his tongue. What’s a little more gonna hurt, anyway?

The taste of you alone has him in heaven, cursing any man who didn’t take advantage of your pussy against their mouth. He can easily slip a finger into a hole this wet and needy, gasping in awe before glancing up at you. 

God, the way you immediately ride his finger, no huff or sound of irritation that he’s pulled his tongue back now. Your face. Fuck. 

He watches as you shamelessly chase the small amount of pleasure he can offer in terms of just head and fingering. He can imagine how hot you’d be without that shirt on, with your legs around his hips, with your mouth wrapped around him. You look blissed out, soaking his finger and keeping your hand in his hair, mindlessly grabbing and scratching at him. 

Making quick work, he goes back for your clit, circling his tongue around the bundle of nerves and noticing how you ride his finger harder. He can’t help but smirk against you when you do it either. 

The movement of your hips constantly humping against him is enough, and he can’t help but groan at the sound of your slick squelching out of you and warming his chin, he can’t fucking help but grind his own hips forward when you act like this. His cock is so painfully hard for you right now, at the taste of you, that all he can do is chase the mattress beneath him. Tensing his muscles and moaning against your clit shamelessly at the jolts of pleasure he gets from it. 

He slips another finger in with ease, feeling how much wetter you’ve gotten in the way the slide is filthy and audible. You groan out at that too, feeling his tongue flick relentlessly against your clit and only now moving your free hand from your face and trailing to your stomach. 

You can’t even talk, so you don’t. You lift your shirt up until you can at least rub against your nipples, just to heighten the pleasure your best friend is so graciously giving you.

His eyes roll back when you do that, only to fall back on you and get a frustrated grunt from him. He’s a bit annoyed that the shirt is still covering you despite your hand under it, fondling yourself. He’s thinking with his cock, so fucking aroused that he doesn’t think twice when he aggressively lifts your shirt up to your chin and watches the way your fingers poke and prod at yourself.

He inhales a sharp breath at the image, and his hips fuck harder against the mattress at that. His fingers speed up and now he’s focused. You feel him all over you from the waist down, his tongue flicking and lips sucking against your swollen clit, his fingers relentlessly fucking into you, your fingers heightening those sensations by playing with your own tits– then, oh, then you notice. 

Jake, you’re best fucking friend, is so goddamn horny that he’s dry humping against your bed and whining out moans against your clit. Probably to avoid asking for more, to avoid making you feel obligated to get him off too, to avoid anything you may not want or consent to. And that’s why he’s your best friend.

It doesn’t take long after that, your hips come to a stop as you watch him get himself off all while getting you off, and you find your orgasm bubbling up much faster than if you’d have imagined solely because of the image in front of you.

“Jake, you’re fucking whining.” You groan almost as needy as he does, rolling your hips up in a stutter. 

He was almost gonna stop, because yeah, he is whining. Gasping for air but only tasting you, only swallowing up the moans you give to him, only inhaling the dull scent of the fruity soap you used when you showered. But, you moan louder after you say that. You like it. You like seeing him act so desperate. So he continues, shamefully reaching one of his hands between himself and the bed and quickly shoving it down his pants, circling around his cock and continuing to fuck into it. 

If he thinks hard enough, you’re what he’s fucking right now, and technically, he is. With his fingers and mouth at least. When your hips stutter more, he fucks harder against his hand and holds his fingers inside of you as deep as he can get them. There, he sucks against your clit until you’re the one whining louder. 

You’re shocked at how quickly you’re getting off. Releasing a splash against him in a breathy, choked up sob. Nearly squeezing his head between your thighs to the point he almost misses the way you breathe out strings of praises toward him. But he hears them. 

He definitely heard you say that he looks sexy with your hand in his hair, and god, did he ride off of the fact that you encouraged him to get off with you. Regardless of if you knew if he could or not, regardless of if you knew his hand was providing just enough pleasure for him to do just that. 

There, as your orgasm subsides with his tongue still flicking your sensitive clit, you watch him writhe his hips against your mattress, his eyes slammed shut, and his breath coming out in pornographic moans. So this is what Jake looks like when he cums. It’s desperate, but somehow, it feels passionate too.

You’re all dazed after the fact, pussy pulsing and tingling from the loss of his lips and fingers once he pulls back and lays against your bed with a lazy smile. His pants are uncomfortable, but he doesn’t mind as he wipes his hand across his shirt and watches the way you catch your breath. 

“So,” He tries to say, clearing his throat. “I– um– hope that’s what you needed?”

You’re shy. You’re never fucking shy, especially towards Jake, but god. 

“Um, yeah,” you sigh out, lifting from the bed and looking back at him. Part of you wondering if that’s what it’s supposed to be like when someone gives you good head, or if that’s just…what it’s like when Jake gives head.

For some reason, you genuinely don’t think another man would ever eat you out to that level again. There’s no way, based on experience. 

“It was definitely what I needed.” 

He nods in a shy way, reminding himself that his pants are fucking nasty right now. So, he goes to stand up and extends a hand out to you. 

“Let’s go clean up.” 

You shake your head, not at all wanting to move from this bed. He nods again, pulling your shirt back down for you and leaning to look at you. 

“I’m gonna bring you something to clean up with, and I’m gonna shower.”

You smile at him, a bit dazed as you make yourself comfortable on your messy sheets as you think hard about the fact that this dopey motherfucker really never told you how good he was at this? Rude.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake looks all proud of himself when he comes back to your room and cuddles into bed with you much like he always has. 

“I didn’t expect to sleep over, I have work in the morning.” He whispers in a rasp against your back, curling around you like the perfect big spoon. 

You’re quick to turn on his work alarm on your phone, like you always do when he crashes during weeknights. Because, what best friend doesn’t have alarms set for each other anyway?

After a few more long moments of silence, you try to talk. Mostly because your brain is swimming with the fact that, like, you’re not sure but it’s just– wow. 

“Hey, um–”

“Hmm?” He hums out in a sleep-heavy voice.

“Did you actually enjoy doing that?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I literally came in my pants.” His sudden louder voice causes you to jump, but you relax back into his gasp. 

“Oh,” You think hard. “Is this gonna change stuff between us?”

“Probably, but not in like, a bad way. More like in the can-i-eat-you-out-all-the-time-way.” He responds with mock-confidence, shifting a bit and hugging you closer to him, as if to hide the way he’s trying to make this sound like a joke. For his own comfort, really.

You smile.

“And don’t tell other dudes my secrets.” He adds.

“I won't.”

Jake has his own smile from behind you, wondering if he really is just that good at eating pussy. The truth is, he’s done it a handful of times but he was just really really interested in doing it for you. For…reasons.

・・・・・・THIS WAS ORIGINALLY TWO PARTS, NOW IT’S ONE. YOU’RE WELCOME・・・・・・

“Hey, um,”

“Hmm?” Jake hummed out in a sleep-heavy voice.

“Did you actually enjoy doing that for me?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I literally came in my pants.” He responded in a sudden, louder voice. 

“Oh,” You think hard. “Is this gonna change stuff between us?”

“Probably, but not in like, a bad way. More like in the can-i-eat-you-out-all-the-time-way.” 

You remember the conversation that happened after he went down on you like it was yesterday, and he’s a goddamn liar. Nothing changed in your friendship with him, and he certainly doesn’t ask to eat you out all the time either. If anything, you’ve felt disappointed time and time again with the aftermath of that night.

It’s weighing on you in a strange way. At first, the weeks following the first and apparently, only time Jake went down on you, you almost expected him to ask for a repeat. You wanted to return the favor. You wanted him to ask but he never did. Even when he came over to hang out, even when you tried to lay down hints.

Nothing changed.

In fact, he doesn’t even talk about it. He doesn’t look at you as if he’s tasted you, and he doesn’t act like he came in his palm against your bed, right in front of you. He’s just…Jake. Sweet, caring, aloof, Jake. And you’re just you. Except you want to be someone else at this point. Someone that he does feel differently around after that.

Maybe you weren’t a memorable event for him when it comes to intimacy. Maybe he prefers to pretend it never happened? Maybe he was really just doing you a favor and intending for it to never go past the initial act. Even with his sweet words after the fact. Maybe, that was just to reassure you so it wouldn’t be awkward. 

You’re a version of you who wants to know what the fuck he’s thinking about. Did it taste bad? Did he get cold feet about it all? Arguably, if things did get weird after what happened, you’d feel more comfortable than you do with the situation as it stands. 

It is weird now, but only because it’s not weird for him. 

Even now, as you lay across the same bed where he had his head nestled between your legs, you can almost feel the tingle of what it felt like. The way his hair tickled your thighs, and the way his fingers laid against the flesh of your legs. The sun is beaming in through your windows and it still doesn’t feel as warm as it did when he cuddled against you that night. It’s been weeks and your heart is sick for him by this point. Sick with confusion, angst, lust, maybe even love if you think hard enough. 

You miss him a lot more than before as you throw your hand up to your face in a gentle slap as if to knock yourself out of it. This is insane. Every day you wake up feeling this way, thinking of him, and where you stand with him. It wasn’t like this at first, you truly expected him to come back for more and now you’re just sitting here with a loop of reasons as to why he never did. 

Insane. You’ve gotten head from so many people and didn’t think twice about them the next day, Jake is different though. You knew he would be too.

Why is Jake any different? Why do you miss him so badly right now? Why couldn’t he pick up on it either? Even worse, why do you feel like doing that with him was a mistake?

He’s with his parents for the weekend, and you’re here still thinking about shit that should have been released with your orgasm. 

You haven’t gone on any dates since that day, you haven’t met up with any one other than him to hang out, and at this point you’re starting to feel a little pathetic for falling in so deep. It’s entirely one sided, he makes that very clear.

So, naturally, you hop up with the confidence of a damn lion and decide that today, it ends. You will stop making it weird between the two of you, if he has even noticed anyway. You’re gonna get dressed, look hot as fuck, and sit on your couch swiping left and right until you find a hot piece of man that’s willing to take you out tonight.

That’s when something dawns on you. You remember Jake briefly mentioning Sunghoon to you, which seemed more like an implication if anything at the time. 

Why would Sunghoon be jealous of what happened? You can admit to being attracted to him but it’s not like the two of you hang out often or anything, and it’s also kind of a rule for yourself that you don’t fuck within the friendgroup. Jake was an exception, solely because that’s your best friend. Or, well, was your best friend. 

Now though? Who cares about these little rules you create for yourself? You need a confidence boost. You need your mind to be taken off of this little spiral you keep falling into. Most of all, you need to be proven wrong that you can still get off without it being him. 

So, texting Sunghoon? Easy. 

Thankfully, Sunghoon texting you back at lightning speed seemed even easier for him. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Well, Sunghoon sure did a great job at getting your mind off of Jake for the past couple of hours. 

You lay here in his bed, feeling your body tingle from the sensation of just how well he lived up to the promise of a good time. For hours he touched you, licked against you, fucked you. And yeah, you did fucking enjoy it. 

But why now? Why did you only just decide to give Sunghoon a shot? Why are you lying in his bed, with his heavy arms thrown across you as he snores gently behind you, feeling the need to cry? Why do you wish it was Jake, your best friend who seemed so eager to please and then suddenly leaped ten feet back as if he never suggested it in the first place? 

Your brain is confused despite your body relaxing itself from the state of bliss you were able to experience. You really did enjoy this time with Sunghoon and think that maybe, if you continue to make late night visits to him, the need for your best friend will weaken in time. 

God, if only Jake would just talk about it.

And you fall asleep thinking about that. About how you’ve let your feelings weaken you to the point that it’s genuinely hard to enjoy being pleasured by someone who actually has the capability. 

And, well, you wake up much the same, except Sunghoon was quite quick with his fingers upon waking up himself. Showing you that even if the person you want doesn’t have a thing to do with you, he sure does. 

“Good morning,” He rasps in a sleepy voice, fingers already traveling down your stomach as he hugs up against you from behind. “Glad you finally came through for me.” 

You quirk a brow. Right, Jake is the whole reason you're here. If not for mentioning him, at least.

“I finally came through?” You chuckle, your body jolting at the ticklish sensation of his lips brushing the back of your neck. “You knew I was single, why didn’t you call me?” 

You feel a harsher kiss against your neck, and his fingers only travel further down now. 

“Bro code.” He whispers, dipping his fingers between your still naked thighs. “I’m not overstepping if you’re the one asking for it.” He slides his fingers gently back and forth between your legs, trying to work you up. “And you did.” 

You think hard about that. Bro code, overstepping limits, not coming onto someone unless they do first solely because someone must have asked him not to. And you’d think even harder about who that someone might be, but instead your brain is quickly thrown into the morning sex routine Sunghoon must offer to all of his lovers. 

You enjoy it too, the small moments of bliss where you’re not in your head about what you could have possibly done wrong with Jake for you to end up feeling this way. It’s a brief moment of numbness though, feeling his fingers pleasure you gently can only do so much to quiet your thoughts. 

“Are you saying one of your friends had dibs on me or something?” You laugh in a half-joke, arching your back to rub your ass up and against the bigger and warmer man behind you. 

“You could say that, I’m assuming he missed his chance though–” Sunghoon whispers snidely, now satisfied with how you already drip for him and sliding one of his fingers into you. His other hand, being used to hike one of your legs up and against his hip to open you up for him. “You wouldn’t be here doing this if he didn’t.” 

You clench around his finger unintentionally, pretending you don’t know who you’re both referring to. Mostly because there’s no way in hell it’s your best friend, seeing as how he’s acting like you don’t exist outside of platonic friendship with him. Then again, who else could it be? Jay? Heeseung? Fucking Jungwon? As fucking if. 

“I guess he did miss his chance–” You breathe, now allowing yourself to give into the lazy and slow pleasure being offered. “Deeper.” 

And he listens. Sunghoon goes deeper and deeper with one finger, then two, then three, up until you slip his fingers out of you and plead through your body to have more. Deeper still, holding you from behind, plunging in as if to intentionally fuck the confusion out of you. As if to, maybe, prove that Jake isn’t the only man who can please you now. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

When you eventually find yourself walking through your front door, you do feel better. Sunghoon did have some type of capability to make you feel as desired as Jake did. After all, it’s not often that you sleep over with a man, better yet get fucked again as soon as you wake up with him. 

Even so, you know Jake will be back tomorrow, wanting to hang out yet again as if nothing happened. Thankfully, with Sunghoon around, maybe you can pretend alongside him. Maybe even forget it ever happened. 

You can argue that for the first time, you’re even a bit annoyed when you see his name pop up in your notifications with a call as if you’re not right in the middle of texting Sunghoon. It’s not that you were trying to go back over to his house or anything, but man, he sure is trying to get you to come back for a third round already. 

Maybe you just like when people are eager to please you, or maybe you don’t like to feel as if you’re the one chasing another person. Still, you answer Jake, seemingly releasing all of this resentment you’ve built up for him in an instant. 

“What?” You huff into the phone, feeling it vibrate with another text from Sunghoon and wanting nothing more than to see what his fourth reason would be for you to come over not even two hours after you left. 

“What?” Jake responds in confusion  to you. “What do you mean ‘what’?” 

“I mean what do you want? I’m busy.” You huff again with a roll of your eyes, flopping back on your bed. 

“Oh god, something happened.” Jake groans, though he was simply calling you because he missed your voice. “What’s wrong?” 

“No, not really. Was just trying to figure out what I’m doing tonight when you rudely interrupted me.” 

Something is off, Jake can feel it. Your voice has a bite to it, one that feels like you’re mad at him. Not to mention, he knows what you mean when you say you’re trying to find something to do for the night. He tries to reserve his feelings though, despite wanting that something to be him. 

“Oh, I know there’s an event at one of the clubs downtown tonight I think. Jay mentioned it–” He pauses briefly to hear another annoyed breath from you. “You’re not gonna go with him?” 

“Nah,” You wave off dismissively. “I think I’m just gonna go hang out with Sunghoon.” 

You don’t notice at all the brief and panicked silence for a solid second and a half before Jake reacts.

“Wait, what?” He says quickly after managing to process those words, trying not to sound as panicked as he knows he feels. “Sunghoon? Why?!” 

God, he knew he shouldn’t have said anything about Sunghoon that day, but his confidence was overflowing and he couldn’t help but boast at the time. It’s come back to shoot him in the dick, knowing full well that Sunghoon has been trying to get you into bed since he fucking met you. Hearing you ask for him in this context is something that makes his blood run cold. 

“Relax, I was with him last night. It’s kind of like, maybe gonna be a normal thing now.” 

You refuse to pick up on Jake’s tone. He had all the time in the world to make you feel something other than confusion, and this is just fucking petty at this point. He clearly doesn’t want to have anything with you, so why in the hell should you just sit around hoping? Waiting? 

“Sunghoon? You want to fuck Sunghoon?” He asks in a lower tone, trying to convince himself that he has to be mishearing you. You can hear him shuffle around and close a door behind him, showing that he doesn’t want his parents to hear him. But the frustration showing blatantly in his voice is somehow…satisfying. 

“I already did. I figured he would show me a good time since no one else can, and he did.” You shrug with slight disobedience. Resentment bubbling up in your gut to the extent that you almost want to grill him for having any type of opinion about it. 

Jake hangs on those words for a second. “Since no one else can.” 

He really thought he was the one who could do it for you. 

“Yeah, but–”  Jake starts, feeling like a child almost in the way he protests despite not being in a position to have a say in who you sleep with. “You know what? Nevermind. Do what you want.” He adds blankly, hanging up before you can get another word in. 

Honestly, he doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong because you acted like he was fully capable of doing everything right. Hanging out with him consistently after the fact, not making it weird, flirting with him, asking him to sleep over. 

He wasn’t sure if he should ask you for more or if he should ask you to be his girlfriend first. The whole reason he’s with his parents right now is because he felt the need to run home to his Mom for girl advice. Embarrassing? Yes, but he really wanted to do things right. He cares about you. 

He needed just one single weekend away, and the second he’s gone you’re out fucking other dudes? Fucking Sunghoon? 

By now, that asshole is probably feeling like he’s on top of the world for getting to touch you. Not even he has done what Sunghoon managed to do with you by now and he can’t help but feel pissed about it. 

Whether you’re his or not, Sunghoon never should have been a fucking option. 

So, he calls you right back, pushing back the feeling of how pathetic it seems considering he’s the one who hung up on you. Then, when you don’t pick up, he immediately feels his stomach drop. 

You must be talking to Sunghoon, you must be setting up a time and place to meet with him. And Jake has heard that Sunghoon knows how to fuck. Other people have said he’s good in bed. Surely, if you’ve already been with him once and you’re still wanting to go back to him, those other people weren’t lying. 

To Jake, it feels like he’s losing you to his own friend with each passing second, and it’s weighing so heavy that spamming your phone with calls to interrupt whatever it is you’re doing right now feels like the right thing to do. In fact, it feels like it is the best thing in the world to do. 

He calls again. You don’t answer.

Again.

“What?!” You answer, annoyed. 

“Why would you even want Sunghoon?! Is he really that much better than I am?” He doesn’t think before he says it, because if he did, he wouldn’t have been able to say it at all. 

It’s his turn to experience that awkward silence because in all fairness, you don’t know how to respond to that. You feel annoyed now, you feel confused and quite frankly, blind sided. Since when did he care? 

“What’s that supposed to mean? You came onto me once and then never followed up.” You dead-pan at yourself in the mirror across your bedroom, speaking into the phone with a voice that seems scolding. “I don’t see why you’re mad that I’m hanging out with Sunghoon. We aren’t dating, Jake.”

“Since when? Who said I didn’t want to do it again?” Jake argues back in a whispered voice, showing you that he still can’t be as loud as he’d like to be. He chooses to ignore that last sentence though, pretending as if it doesn’t strike him in the center of the heart. 

“Nobody! That’s the thing, you haven’t said anything about it. Not that you want to, not that you don’t. You’re just being you and it’s driving me up a fucking wall.”

Pause.

“You’re mad because I didn’t make it weird?” It’s like his brain clicks. 

“Pretending it didn’t happen somehow makes it worse.” You lower your voice, ignoring the string of texts Sunghoon is sending you and listening closely to what Jake might say next. Your heart is racing through this hushed argument, and it feels good to admit that you kept thinking about it, even if he hasn’t.

“I wasn’t pretending that it didn’t happen,” He pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “I just wasn't sure what the next step was.”

You’re fucking appalled.

“Jake, I have been flirting with you since it happened because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. You’re the one who didn’t make any moves, so I figured you wanted it to end there.” You sigh loudly, but somehow feel a bit lighter. “Do you have any idea how that fucked with my confidence?”

Jake sighs along with you on the other end of the line. 

“That’s why I was annoyed earlier, and that’s why I’m going to Sunghoon’s tonight.”

“What?” Jake’s voice raises a bit higher. “Still?!” 

It’s the fact that he’s trying to explain himself. Had he known that you were confused by his lack of, um, touching you, he would have done it every day since it happened! Yet, you’re still considering Sunghoon an option? Knife to the heart, honestly. 

Or maybe he’s not being clear enough with you about this. 

You, on the other hand, nod your head as you hum a confirmation to him, smiling and wondering if this conversation will turn into an event that would, perhaps, have you cancel the hook-up with Sunghoon.

“Why? Are you jealous?” You pry.

“You really called him, and now I’m just sitting here in my old room trying to find a way to get to you before he does….again.” An inhale. “ Yes! I’m fucking jealous!” 

You remain silent, trying to pretend that your pettiness isn’t solely to confirm what he seems to be implying to you. Then, an unintentional chuckle leaves your lips. 

“Why are you laughing?!” His voice is raised again, and he doesn’t seem to stop spilling what he needs to say. “I wanted to do that for you for years and you somehow still didn’t know?” He pauses. “I always made it weird between us, what? You thought I treated all of my friends like that?”

You just listen, feeling your heart beat in time with each word he speaks. Strings of sentences like, “I’m going to kick his ass.” and “You thought I’d just eat you out as a friend?! You’re insane.” and “I would have come home last night if you wanted to feel good so badly, why did you have to go see him, of all people?” 

The confirmation of Jake being the friend who forbade Sunghoon from making a move on you is right there, clear as day. 

“Ah, so the Jake I know isn’t the Jake everyone else knows?” You respond, trying to force the tingling feeling in your gut to calm itself. Hearing him be so blatant to you has your heart doing flips, and it’s not an easy task to make it stop.

“Of-fucking-course not!” He rolls his eyes, you can definitely tell. “You had me wrapped around your pinky from day one.”

“And you really thought that, with the way you seemed so uninterested–” You pause, processing his words. “I would have asked you to come home from your parent’s house to get me off? For what? Funsies? You thought I'd be brave enough or selfish enough to ask such a thing?” 

Jake sighs deeply, seemingly fed up with the situation. 

“It wouldn’t be because you are selfish.” He breathes out, almost angrily. “And for the last time, I’m not uninterested. I was just trying to do things right. I don’t just want to fuck you, you know.” 

“And you didn’t think to tell me until weeks after you ate me out?” You smile harder, trying to contain the heat flushing over your cheeks. “Until after I thought I had a pH imbalance and maybe you were just grossed out by me?!” 

“I’m genuinely shocked you didn’t know already. Made me think you weren’t interested enough to like–” He pauses, not wanting to be too telling. “I guess waiting and being polite isn’t really your style. I should have known that though.”

You let him continue, because you can tell he’s simply taking breaths and small pauses to figure out how to express his thoughts to you. 

“You can’t tell me that over the years, you never once noticed how often I stared at you.” He lowers his voice again, softening it to an extent that you actually feel the butterflies fly from your belly to your chest. 

”The fact that I jumped in head first and offered to do that for you? I didn’t think I had to tell you at this point…”He breathes out a chuckle through the line this time. “And for the record, I couldn’t get enough of it. I was just trying to like– I don’t know.”

You listen to him breathe deeply, again. 

“I didn’t want you to think I was in it just for the sex, I guess.”

There. There it is. You’re nearly kicking your feet, feeling him confirm feelings and erase any hint of doubt within you. Despite never truly noticing that he treats you differently compared to his other friends, despite never thinking too hard about the way he looks at you. 

“You acted like it wasn’t a big deal, Jake. I’m not joking. If that’s how you act when you like someone, you shouldn’t blame me for not noticing.”

“I literally tongue fucked you.” He dead-pans. “Friends don’t just do that.”

“I thought we were friends who could do that.” You argue. “But I guess you’re not quite looking to just remain friends, are you?” 

“No,” Jake sighs. “Mom told me I needed to take you out on some extravagant date and express my undying love for you with a handful of red roses, but I guess this is just how it’s gonna be. After all, this is you.” 

“And this is you.” You confirm. 

“I was going to come home tomorrow and try to lie our way to the restaurant, which I still can, if you want. You kind of fucked up my plan though.” 

You pause at his words, suddenly feeling like shit for not realizing sooner. In your defense though, if he really did like you from day one, you didn’t exactly have a chance to see how he would have acted without feelings. The Jake you know is your best friend, and someone you trusted with everything, you thought he treated everyone as well as he treated you. That’s why, when he didn’t change, you couldn’t read him anymore. 

Then again, all of this could have been fucking avoided if he had just voiced it to you. 

“Romance is dead and it’s your fault.” Jake tries to joke, his soft tone somehow coming out even softer as he waits for some type of response from you. 

“So, are we done fighting?” You ask meekly, tapping your finger against your phone and looking up at the ceiling with a smile that by now, you can’t escape. “Since you’ve just expressed your undying love for me and I very much wouldn’t mind going on a date with you so we can work this out face to face?” 

“Are you still going to fuck Sunghoon?” 

You laugh. 

“Oh yeah, for sure–” To his silence, you immediately take it back. “Oh my god, relax. It’s a joke.” 

“Get better jokes, asshole.” 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“What the fuck?” Jake deadpans into the phone, his heart beating far too fast for his health, but vibing with it anyway because by tomorrow night, he’ll be next to you again. “You seriously had sex with her?!” 

“Hey, she’s the one who called me.” Sunghoon shrugs as he listens. “To be fair, Jake, I did tell her that someone else had dibs on her.”

Jake slaps his forehead and rolls his eyes. 

“You’re such a dick– I told you at least three hundred times that I like her! I don’t have dibs.” He gripes, trying to pretend that he’s not imagining Sunghoon with you, the person he wants the most. 

“Damn right you don’t, because she seemed to have a great t–” 

“Sunghoon, stop. I don’t want to know what happened, but like, stop texting her.” 

Sunghoon’s brow raises in curiosity. 

“Ah, did you finally make a move?”

If there’s anything Jake knows Sunghoon won’t do, it’s go for a woman that is actually unavailable. He has his fun, and he’s not one to turn anyone down if he has an interest in them, bro code be damned. And yeah, he’s still a little pissed at him for hooking up with you…but, it is true, Jake made you feel like he wasn’t even an option in his attempts to be a gentleman. 

Still, boundaries need to be set now. Real boundaries.

“I did, and I would really appreciate it if you back off. I’m trying to make something out of this, you know?”

Sunghoon lightens up, sighing at his loss of a would be fuck-buddy that seemed more promising than some he’s had in the past. 

“Jesus, you’re serious about her aren’t you?” He smirks as he speaks, feeling proud of Jake for finally stepping up for himself. “I mean, I can totally see why. Please excuse me as I mourn that sweet, sweet, pu-” 

“Sunghoon.” Jake warns. “Shut the fuck up.” 

“Relax, jesus.” Sunghoon plays it cool, though he actually is mourning it a little bit. “Good on you though. I’ll back off, don’t worry.” 

Jake rolls his eyes yet again, his love-hate relationship with Sunghoon becoming more fond than ever by this point. Only because the confidence he had in himself before all of this wasn’t entirely where it needed to be. It’s true that he wasn’t exactly a pussy eating god before, nor could he even say he’s amazing at sex but, when it comes to you, he can’t help but be excited. He wants to do it all, be it all for you. 

Never in his life has he eaten pussy like that, and never in your life have you felt a mouth so eager to please between your legs. 

Sunghoon could have been something, but he couldn’t have been Jake, ever. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The day couldn’t go by any slower than it already has. 

Jake comes home tonight, and by home, you mean to your apartment where he doesn’t live. 

Your mind goes in loops on what could possibly happen. Scenarios of him getting cold feet and ignoring that any of this happened at all again. Scenes of him unlocking your door, closing in on you, and kissing you before you can even say “hello”. Images of his hands on you, his mouth on you, what it would feel like if he were to…well, oh.

You snap yourself out of it, every bad scenario in your head gets replaced with one where you’ve got Jake working himself on and inside of you. It’s making you feel hot, insane, and entirely too horny for the proposed date night full of talking that needs to be had first. 

Then you freeze, your hand on the handle of your mug as you wonder a bit too hard. 

What if he doesn’t show up at all? 

You did run off the second he left the city and fuck one of your mutual friends. Arguably, you were equally as bad at communicating with him as he was to you during the past few weeks. Sure, you flirted, but was that even enough when he literally put his tongue inside of you “as a friend”? 

God, he’d have every right to not show up. To move on, to never speak to you again. 

You’ve been so stupid. Both of you have, stumbling together but apart into something neither of you could even begin to navigate. For you? Sex is easy. Feelings though? That’s where it gets complicated. Yet, still, you find yourself more willing than ever to let these feelings roam free if he accepts them at face value. 

Solely because of how shitty it felt when you were trying to pretend that Jake was nothing but a one time thing for his sake. 

And when the time comes, after hours of brooding, getting worked up, and feeling insane, you’re looking like a mess when he knocks on your door. So much for looking good for him. You’re an absolute fucking wreck when you open that door and dead-pan stare at him and his bags. 

“Hi,” He smiles, not quite making eye contact because he really is kind of embarrassed by all of this. “I’m here.” 

You step back from the door, eyes remaining on him. 

“You’re here.” You say quietly, watching him step into your apartment and drop his bags. 

You feel his breath before you hear his voice. So much closer than just moments before, right up against your ear, and his arms wrapping tightly around you. 

“Felt like I was gone for too long–” He whines slightly against you, breathing in a breath and taking in your scent. “Didn’t know I could miss you like that.” 

You fucking melt. Out of all of those scenarios and fantasies in your head, this wasn’t one of them. Which goes to show that Jake is the one person in this world who can surprise you time and time again. You’ve hugged him like this hundreds of times, but this one, oh this one. He feels so close after feeling so fucking far away.

“You were gone for two days,” You smile, nuzzling against him and gripping his waist in your own hug. 

“Two days too long, though.” You feel him smile, that little upturn of his lips pushing his cheek up and against you as he chuckles and pulls back.  “We don’t have a lot of time, but we can still make it to the restaurant if you still want to go? I can shower when we get back.”

You pull back, offering him a small nod and feeling a bit let down. You wanted more, especially after that hug. The fact that he can contain himself right now feels isolating. Are you the only one who has a vibrating brain right now? He really wants to have the conversation at the restaurant? 

He really wants to do this the right way?

You look like shit, but arguably he might think he looks worse considering the long trip back to you. Still, the restaurant is the chosen option to have this conversation, and you’re ready to get it over with so that finally the two of you can take a step forward. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The restaurant is nice. There’s a buzz of conversations surrounding the two of you but most of it feels muffled because the only sound you can truly hear is Jake’s hushed and awkward attempts to get the ball rolling. 

“So, I guess that’s why I went to my parent’s house. It’s embarrassing, I know–” He says before you cut him off. 

“Tell me how you felt the past few weeks when we were together.” You say boldly, wanting so badly to have the confirmation that he really does want this, and that he suffered much like you did.

You watch a fan of rosy tint cross his cheeks as he breaks eye contact with you, looking to the table and then back up at you. 

“Okay, um–” He stiffens a bit, glancing around to make sure no one is looking or listening in. “When we weren’t together, it was a lot easier for me to think, but when we were together, I could only really think about one thing.” He admits, nodding to himself. 

You look at him curiously before you see his eyes light up in panic.

“No! No, no. Not like, sex…” He looks down. “I mean, yeah maybe sex too but mostly I just couldn’t stop thinking about ways to make you want me more than anyone else.” 

Your heart swells at his panicked save, and then the words that follow. 

“I think I already did want you more than anyone else.” You admit back to him. “Even if I didn’t know I had feelings until you did that to me– I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”

He smiles, reaching over the table as if to ask for your hand. 

“What about you? What did you think about when we were together after that night?” He asks for his own confirmation now. 

“Sex. Mostly, I guess. I felt like no one else would ever be able to make me feel that good again.” You look away, feeling ashamed and seen. “Goddamn, I sound so dramatic.”

Jake snorts, laughing at how he should have expected this but the confidence boost is a happy surprise to him. 

“To be fair though, Jake, I think I had my feelings and my lust for you mixed up.” You continue. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I still feel both of those things every time I see you, or even think of you.”

“Feelings and lust?” He nods with a smile and wiggling his eyebrows, his eyes glistening in the warm lighting of the restaurant. 

You nod in confirmation, side eyeing the waitress who walks over to take down your order. 

Both of you are somehow dissociated outside of each other, there’s no way you’re not because you don’t recall what you ordered, nor what he ordered, and he appears to be feeling much the same. The moment she walks away, he’s continuing. 

“I was really that good, huh?” A smirk from him, and a nod from you. 

“What about right now then? How do you feel when you look at me?” He follows up, looking down at the table. 

“Both of those things.” You dead-pan, squeezing your legs together as you look at him and feel the warmth radiating from even this far away. The confirmation of feelings is enough by itself to have your thoughts in the gutter about him, especially after weeks of wanting him. 

Especially after having to be in this stupid fucking restaurant in the first place.

He quirks a brow before lowering his voice, his eyes drooping a bit. 

“Do you have any fucking idea how badly I’ve wanted to get my mouth on you?” 

God, there he is. That same bold best friend who originally suggested eating you out in the first place. Not entirely unfounded that he said it, but fuck, your cheeks are searing. 

“Jake, we’re in public.” You warn, knowing damn well that you’ve not been able to think of anything else either, but for the sake of the foundation of this relationship, you want to tame yourself a little bit.

“Since we started hanging out, every fucking time.” He continues, ignoring your warning. “I would get so mad when you’d go to your little hook-ups. Sometimes I even wondered if you did it intentionally to piss me off.” 

Your cheeks are still hot, but now there’s a bit of guilt filling you. 

“You really had no idea how badly I wanted that to be me?” He continues with his streak of confidence, unintentionally dirty talking to you solely because he, genuinely, cannot deny his attraction or his feelings for you by this point. “Even right now, I want nothing more than to have you to myself.”

You pause, the guilt leaving you in an instant as it’s fully replaced with Jake’s eagerness to have you in full, finally. 

“Why–” You sigh, dropping your head into your hands to hide your face from him. “Why are we at this restaurant again?” 

You feel his hand reach back over to you, removing your hands from your face and dipping down to look at you. 

“It’s so fucking hard to contain myself right now. I can admit that.” He whispers, blinking at you. “If you feel satisfied with where we stand, I’d be more than happy to leave this table now and prove everything to you.”

An instant nod from you, and an instant confirmation from Jake. 

You’re both out of the restaurant before a single sip of water, before a single visual inspection of the forgotten food the two of you ordered, and before any doubt could creep in to ruin the electrifying atmosphere you were indulging in with him. 

For Jake, his self control wavers with each passing moment as you sit next to him in the car. You look so calm as he drives as quickly and safely as possible back to your apartment, shaming himself for ever considering the two of you go in the first place. Still, the outcome is somehow more satisfying. Both of you wanting to leave just so you can truly be alone together? He couldn’t ask for a better night. 

Still, your calmness contrasts the way his insides vibrate the closer he gets to your place, and he wonders how the fuck you manage to do it. If you were to simply glance at him at the right moment, you’d see his entire body melt in the fantasies of what the two of you may be willing to do tonight. 

Years worth of pining in his head and heart are bubbling up now. You’re inviting him in, you’re accepting him, you’re wanting him back. 

What he doesn’t know though, is that you are quite literally imagining yourself wrapped in chains to this seat. Why? Because if it weren’t for those astral chains, you’d be on top of him in an instant, reassuring him that if there’s anything in the world you’ve wanted within the past few weeks, it’s him. You’d be apologizing for never taking note of his feelings before, and kissing away all of the moments he wished he could have had with you before, replacing them with very real, firm, hot kisses. 

Thankfully though, you manage to tame the beast from within and somehow, so does he. Up until you get through your apartment door and the electrifying atmosphere sizzles away in an instant. 

You expected to have the confidence to, quite literally, jump on him as soon as your door closed. Instead, you find yourself standing in awe at the entryway. 

Jake, on the other hand, would love nothing more than to have you right this moment, speeding and parking crooked be damned, he will not allow it just yet. 

“Listen,” He reaches out to you, pulling you up and against his chest. “I need to shower before I let myself do anything.” 

You breathe a sigh of relief, noting that the awkwardness came from the fact that Jake’s energy is seeping out of him, lust and worry for possibly not being as clean as he’d like to be for this. 

It feels strange, actually. You can imagine you’ve had many hook-ups with men who wouldn’t even consider a shower before inviting you over. 

“Hurry up then, before I decide to call Sungh-” 

“Don’t you fucking dare make that joke right now,” Jake squeezes you tighter against you, hating himself for constantly bringing up reasons to wait. 

“If we are going to like,” He pauses, struggling to say it out of pure nervousness that you might change your mind. “You know, be exclusive, Sunghoon’s name is forbidden.”

You chuckle against him before shoving him back in a playful way. 

“Deal. Now, can you fucking hurry?” You roll your eyes playfully, internally a little thankful for the short moments you will have to prepare yourself for this. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Damn this shower for feeling so good. Jake could fall asleep under the warmth if it weren’t for the fact that he’s been half-hard this entire time and truly fighting with himself on how to approach this situation.

It’s kind of awkward, actually. Knowing exactly what the two of you are about to do but having to wait even for fifteen minutes makes it seem like you both have a scheduled hook up and nothing more. 

It’s not a hook up though. Jake is finally where he’s always wanted to be with you, in your shower priming his body to go absolutely fucking insane on you. Before, when he ate you out, he really was controlling himself. He wanted to do more with you so bad, and now? God…

He’s flushed as he finally makes his way out of the shower, length still stiffening and softening with each thought that passes. He can barely look at himself in the mirror without wanting to laugh at how embarrassing he truly is. 

You’d probably laugh too, and he’d love the sound of it. 

Then, he’s faced with a dilemma. 

You, on the other hand, find yourself lying quietly in your bedroom after doing your best to fix the mess of yourself for whatever Jake may offer. Waiting for him, and ultimately wondering what the fuck is taking him so long when you finally hear the bathroom door open.

Faintly, you can smell your shampoo and body wash that he used as you hear him make his way to the living room and not find you. 

Then, you hear him making his way to your room. He doesn’t open the door any further than it already was and instead, stands behind it quietly before muttering out. 

“Um,” He starts, putting his hand on your door and only peeking his head in. “I wasn’t sure if there was a point to putting my clothes on–” 

Fucking pause.

God, he must sound so stupid saying that, especially after looking into your room and seeing you lying against your bed changed into the exact same pajamas you put on the night he initially made a move on you through the guise of friendship. 

Well, now it’s not even a question and he was right to assume that all he needed to do was wrap a towel around his waist and come to you. 

You watch his eyes travel your body curiously, a smile forming on his face.

“If you’re wondering if I put panties on this time too,” You smile, reaching a hand out as if to invite him to open that door and come have at it. “I didn’t.”

That’s all it takes, really, to have him pushing the door open and not-so-calmly making his way to your bed. 

Seeing his naked and damp chest is one thing, but smelling your scent all over him is another, especially when the first thing he does is practically envelop you with his body and plant his lips straight on your own. 

The first real kiss. Despite his lips having been on you before, you melt into it and find yourself forgetting how differently he’s acting now compared to before. He was so confident, so cocky, and now he’s almost docile. Meek. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” He leans back to whisper, adjusting his body so that he’s more comfortable and leaning down on one arm while the other holds your cheek. “Can’t believe you let me eat you out before ever letting me actually kiss you.”

Your face heats up at the comment, making you feel more scandalous than you ever truly tried to be. But he’s not wrong, and you regret making him feel like eating you out was the only way to get to your heart.

Strangely though, it was the way to your heart. Him doing that for you practically threw you into the deep end in search for more, from him, specifically. 

“Can’t believe you decided that you should just eat me out rather than admit your feelings for me.” You counter with a smile, lifting your head to kiss against him again and pretending you can’t feel the weight of his length under the loosely knotted towel on his waist. 

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” He says through the kisses, quickly losing the ability to speak when you lick against his bottom lip and, ultimately, take control of the act.

He wonders what your mouth could do to him. His entire body reacts to the way your tongue flicks and licks against his own, it takes everything in him to try and control himself from pushing too far too soon– until he realizes that there is no reason to control himself now. 

Never has making out gotten him this turned on, and it’s not a surprise because it’s you. 

He half moans, half chuckles into your kiss when he does it, pressing his hips down and against your thigh much like he did previously to the very mattress he’s got you lying against. 

“There’s so much I want to do,” He finally admits, pulling back from the kiss and hanging his head to feel how his cock reacts to the flesh of your thigh. “Please, let me do all of it.” 

You sigh, somehow feeling a pang of arousal radiate between your legs despite not yet being touched there. The weight of him on you is enough, and all you can do is nod and await the ways he intends to relieve himself with you.

Hours of head, he could give. Even more hours of burying his cock between those pretty lips and watching you return the favor for him. His confidence grows as your body moves under him, waiting, waiting, waiting for what he will do next. 

First, he plants another kiss to you, pressing his hips hard against your thigh with a breathy sigh before moving his lips down, against your neck. 

At the same time, his hands work their way up your loose shirt, cupping one breast in his palm and easily teasing your nipple with his fingers. He works his lips down the center of your clothed chest, down to your stomach, and then up again. His nose nudges your shirt up with each kiss, until his lips replace his fingers and he’s sucking your nipple into his mouth.

You’ve never felt so wanted in your life with the way he appears to be savoring you. Leaving his own pleasure neglected once again, his entire focus is on you. You arch your back up a bit, hands shooting to his head and cradling it there against your breast. 

He groans when you scratch against the nape of his neck, wiggling your hips under him and chasing the sensation that his mouth manages to send to your clit. He groans again when your nipple remains firm between his lips, and he begins to nibble. 

And this time, he moans when he manages to trail one of his hands down just to see how much it will take of this to get you wet. He tucks one hand under your shorts, only to find that you’re already dripping, soaking his fingers with a mere single slide up your folds.

“Fuck,” He sighs as if it’s a compliment when he pops his mouth off of you, flicking his head up to look at your already dazed eyes. “Already?” 

You glance away, embarrassed by how badly you want the man who was once your best friend, and is now….more than that. You can feel his fingers graze and gently play around with the heat your body has already released for him, rolling your eyes back each time he pretends he’s going to offer pressure to your clit. 

He’s fucking teasing you, and you know it.

He knows it too, because of fucking course he is. After years of torture, wondering if you’d ever manage to get wet at all with the thought of him, here you are, dripping under him when all he’s done is kiss you and fondle your nipples. 

Briefly, he remembers how needy your hips were when his tongue was seeping into you. He remembers the taste of each thrust you pressed against his face, and the smell of how badly you needed him at the time. 

As used as he was by you that night, he wants nothing more now than to pull those same desperate moans from you, to taste the wet inside of you that no man ever managed to release for you. 

“I feel like I’m going insane,” He finally breathes out, still toying with your folds and keeping an eye on the way your eyes glare back at him. “I want you so fucking bad–” He stutters now, instantly sliding his fingers into you and scooting down on the bed at lightening speed, pressing your loose shorts to the side just to get the taste of you against his lips again.

Your legs instantly shoot over his shoulders, and one of his hands reaches up to hug your thigh against him as his tongue immediately laps at every dip and crease of your cunt. His eyes nearly roll back at being able to experience this again, his fingers holding firm without a single movement just so he can feel your body confirm that you want him just as much. 

The clench around his fingers are enough, and he licks around them only for a moment before returning his lips to your clit and giving you all he’s got. 

All he can feel is your legs tightening around his head, nearly lifting your ass up and off of the bed, all he can hear is his own moans vibrating through him each time he hears you react. 

Arguably, even after that brief moment of teasing from him, feeling his mouth so eager, much like before, sent you straight into a blissed state and made you forget about the restaurant, the shower, the weeks of pining before this. His mouth is so warm, and his vibrating moans sooth your clit through its desperate attempts to beg for more. 

You can’t help the fact that your legs hug his head, or the way your hands shoot down much like before, scratching through his hair before dropping down and spreading yourself open with two fingers solely to expose your clit in full to the assault of his tongue he’s giving you. 

He missed you so much, he missed this so much. Never again will he leave you wondering, from this point forward, you should be well aware that if you so much as pushed him to his knees and lifted a leg over his shoulder, he’d be eating like a fucking king. 

Still, even with his immense love for kissing your pussy until your legs shake, there’s more to be experienced here than just this. His pace slows with the reality of that, and only now does he move his fingers with intent, and he pulls back to see how you’re spreading yourself for him, even as your legs fall from his shoulders.

“Fuck.” He rasps, lips glistening with a mixture of his own saliva and your slick. 

You lend him a drunken smile, nodding slowly as you focus in on the way his fingers scissor you open. Within a blink though, his face is right there hovering above you, staring intently at the way you react to his fingers. 

“You look so good right now, you know that?” He compliments, leaning down again to plant a kiss against you, only pumping his fingers in faster when your kiss appears to be more hungry than his own. “God, I can feel you squeeze my fingers–” 

And it’s true, he’s seeing stars solely because he can feel the clench of your pussy walls pushing his two fingers together, almost pushing against his attempts to scissor you open and curl them into the spot inside he knows you have. He can only imagine how good that would feel if he were to…

His eyes squeeze shut in a drawn out moan at the thought, his own kiss growing more hungry as he releases the towel from his waist and quickens the pace of his fingers inside of you. 

You can feel him press his cock against you, and the weight of it only becomes heavier when his fingers pause inside of you just so he can slip them out and use those same slick-coated digits to hold his length down and against you before he slides it between your lips. Now coating himself in the same wet sensation. 

You listen closely to his moan, knowing that he seems fond of neglecting his own pleasure to the point of doing near-embarrassing things to get it back when he needs it the most. It’s strangled, almost. You can hear him swallow around it when he slides up harshly, bumping your clit and causing your shorts to stretch against the crease of your thigh. 

He seems so…desperate. Yet, he can have anything he wants. 

“Keep it spread open–” He mutters when he feels you try to remove the hand that had been holding your pussy out on display for him. “I want to feel all of it.”

God, you’ve never heard him say something so sexy. Easily you do as he says, now using both hands to hold either side of your pussy open for him, and feeling the underside of his length slide against your hole. 

You let out a pleased sigh, despite your shorts becoming a nuisance at this point. It’s easy to forget you’re still wearing them though, because they only become drenched more and more as the moments pass with Jake.

You can genuinely just assume that his cock must be aching as he does this, leaking all over you. That’s something you don’t mind at all, because the stimulation is far beyond what you could ever ask for. 

“Jake–” You try to speak, only to be cut off by his hand sliding under your head and his lips attaching yet again to you.

There, you can’t help it when you remove your hands and shoot them up to his face. Holding him there, feeling the way his jaw moves when he licks into your mouth in a desperate attempt to get as much of you as he can in this moment. 

His hips fuck forward much like they did into his palm all those weeks ago, and the anticipation of if or when he finally plunges it into you drives you to kiss him just as hard as he does you.

There is nothing but the sound of kissing in the room save for muffled moans from both of you, entirely tangled up together as he does nothing more than grind himself against you. His hand cradling your head and the other still pressing his length down and against you as close as he can manage. Yours, cupping his cheeks as he kisses you, up until you run one hand down to take over for him.

In that moment, with his free and now shaking hand, he pulls back entirely and just looks at you.

He’s out of it, entirely gone from this world as he stares down with his hair drying by the minute from that shower, messy as all hell with darkened hooded eyes. He continues to stare, each thrust against you becoming pointed to the extent that it almost feels like he’s already fucked you for hours. 

And then, you feel it. The weight lifting, your shorts being stretched until they’re sliding down your thighs and off of you, and then the warmth as he adjusts his hips just barely enough to line up with your quivering hole, practically begging for him to stretch you out for the first time. 

His eyes falter only for a moment when he realizes that this is a moment he will never forget. The way you look up at him with glassy and needy eyes, out of breath, seemingly loving him as much as he’s always loved you. 

“Yeah?” He whispers, not breaking eye contact even for a moment. 

“Please.” You mutter out, not fully intending for it to sound so broken.

And as broken as your voice was in that instance, he grows much weaker by it. Dropping his head with a deep sigh, a smile, and then a chuckle.

“You really, really, can’t look at me like that and expect me to be gentle…” He pauses to look at you again. “For your sake, please tell me to slow down.”

You can barely comprehend a word he’s saying when you can feel the head of his cock teasing where you need it the most. 

“Please.” You rasp out again, wrapping your legs around his waist and forcing his body forward, ultimately sliding the tip of his length into you yourself. 

“Oh, fuck–” He chokes out before sucking in a breath and letting out a moan at the feeling. His body jerks at the sensation, the sound of your voice, the way you pulse around him. “Fuck, so good.” He continues to mutter, controlling himself for only a few seconds longer just to see if you have the ability to understand that he truly and honestly will not have the ability to go easy on you at this point. 

“Deeper.” You plead, squeezing your legs tighter around him, uncaring of his attempt to control the situation. 

That’s all it takes. Your broken voice already had him shaking, and now he’s giving up any and all control that he could have possibly hoped to have. 

Right there, with your legs hugging his waist, your hands gripping the pillow behind your head, and his hands finding purchase on either side of your shoulders, he sinks himself into you as deep as he can go and feels as if the life is being choked out of him over how fucking good it feels. 

He throws his head back in an erotic and attractive moan of relief, allowing you a glimpse at the expanse of his stretched neck, naked of any marked territory. Still, your vision goes white when the stretch hits you.

So big, so strong on top of you. You can imagine he really could fuck you hard, you hope he doesn’t go gentle on you at all, actually

“Shit, please,” You moan brokenly again, releasing your pillow and gripping his forearms. “Jake, god–” You have no words to describe how good he feels inside of you, you couldn’t begin to fathom trying to explain to him how perfect he is. 

It feels deep, deeper than you ever could have imagined. His length alone should have been enough to tell you that, but you hadn’t yet factored in the girth of it. So heavy inside of you, touching each soft and sensitive surface your pussy has to offer. 

Your body jolts in adjustment, knocking the breath out of you despite him not moving just yet. 

“Shh–” He soothes, not at all actually wanting to hush your cries for him. In fact, he’s simply saying it because he could quite literally release at any moment if you continue to speak and clench him like this. And when he finally looks down at you, he can’t fucking help it.

His hips move at their own volition, and he was right in believing there is no gentle fuck to be had here. He slides out only slightly, with the intent to fuck you as full of him as he can. He wants to stay deep, because you asked, and he wants to keep you feeling stretched around him because he can truly never get over the way you look and sound right now. 

You shake at the feeling of him pressing impossibly deeper into you, keeping his hips flush against you before snapping his hips back more now. A slightly empty feeling inside of you being filled once again within a second. 

His moans sound beautiful, he feels beautiful, and all you can do is stare up at him with watery eyes and a slack jaw, wondering why it took him so long to do this with you.

Wondering why it took you so long to want it at all, when now, you think you could never feel this good with another person again. 

His arms flex in your grasp with each thrust, and his eyes land on each visible part of your body before he weakens his stance and lowers himself to you, hips still fucking you open at a pace that’s only becoming more and more rapid, more and more fucking blinding. 

“Yeah, yeah–” Jake suddenly chimes with out of breath words, kissing you before you can comprehend or respond to those words. “No one has ever reacted like this for me–” He continues, pointing his thrusts harder into you. “Feels so good, so tight around me.” He chokes up at the last few words, stuttering his and picking up a different pace.

This time, those harsh thrusts pull back further, emptying you before slowly pressing into you again. 

“I want you to remember how this feels,” He continues, seemingly rambling against your lips with each slow thrust. “No one will ever fuck you like I will.” 

Your hooded eyes shoot open with arousal at his confident boasting. Those words feel so final, as if it isn’t even a rule, but a logical fact that only the two of you could ever find to be true. 

You can’t even manage a response, and instead moan before tucking your lips up and against his neck, using one hand to grip his hair and skew his head. 

That once naked and markless neck is no more. He is yours, and you’re lucky enough now to know that this is exactly how he wants you to feel. 

“Ahh, you like that?” He questions your reaction to his words, feeling your hips make attempts to meet him halfway with each thrust. “You like when I talk?” He continues to urge your sucking lips to speak out to him, to answer him, to boost his ego just a bit more. 

“So much,” You nearly whimper against his neck, moving your lips to another spot. “Love when you’re confident like this–”

He’s in heaven hearing those words. As if it’s a confirmation that he wasn’t just talking dirty. You both truly take those words and will fuck by them from this point forward. He truly doesn’t want anyone else, and hopefully, you’d never give another person the chance to make an attempt to fuck you the way he does. 

And then the room falls silent again, as if Jake is focused on reminding you with each passing second that he’s never been more sure or right of something in his life. Despite you already believing him, the way his cock pulses inside of you is enough of a reminder even if he had never said it in the first place. 

His pace quickens again, and then slows, and then stutters. Only to fall back into a good rhythm before his entire body starts to shake through the act. 

You wonder if this is it. Is this how his body reacts when he’s about to cum? Is this what his face looks like? Is this what his eyes do? Did his arms strain like this the first time? Did his moans come out as choked and desperate? 

None of that matters, because as quickly as it started, he buries himself into you again and stays in that one spot, shaking and timidly looking down at you. 

“Don’t move, please, don’t move.” He practically begs, losing himself to the way your hips chase the feeling of constant stimulation. “Stop moving.” He pleads again, pulling his chest from you and sitting up on his knees, keeping his cock in place deep within you. 

You watch him, unable to keep your hips still, and he watches you– trying to keep his orgasm under control before seeing your fingers trail down your stomach and to your clit.

There, he loses himself, watching you rub the soft spot just above where his cock stuffs you full. 

“I can’t,” He chokes out, snapping his hips back and allowing himself to get lost in the feeling. “Fuck, I really can’t.” He continues to mutter out, pressing his strings of cum ever deeper inside of you as he feels every muscle in his body tense. 

It feels so sensitive, but he can’t stop moving, feeling his cum fill you up to the point it’s surely being pressed out of you by his desperate length wanting nothing more than to stay inside of you.

You moan through it with him, encouraging him to lose himself inside of you, and he’s so beautiful when he does it. The fact that he does it at all has your body tensing on its own. Teetering on the edge of your own orgasm with the way your fingers almost aggressively chase after the feeling he appears to still be releasing inside of you.

And then, emptiness. You are left empty and dripping, fingers still chasing your release before–

“What the fu–” You moan, squeezing your eyes shut at the feeling of his tongue instantly back on you. As if he’s looping back to the beginning of it all, uncaring of tasting himself solely because through it all, he can still taste you. “Jake, Fuck–yes, right there.” You continue to groan when he replaces his tongue against your hole with his fingers, fucking into you as quickly as he can before nudging your fingers away and taking over the chase of your orgasm. 

You’re entirely amazed by how eager he is to pull it from you, and that alone is enough. The desperate ways in which he decided to pleasure you right in this moment, it’s enough.

Your hands instantly reach for his hair, gripping so tightly that you can hear the pained sound he lets out at the sheer force behind it. You very nearly rub his nose in the mess he’s made of you out of the sheer arousal you feel through your orgasm. 

You’re seeing white, feeling his fingers expertly work you open and somehow don’t feel disappointed at all that you didn’t get there before he pulled out of you. You can still feel him dripping out, fingers squelching and sliding through the mixture of both orgasms inside of you. And his tongue, good lord his fucking tongue, licking up every bit and eagerly flicking your clit at a pace much faster than he offered before.

And now, you find your legs nearly kicking him across the room. As soon as the orgasm subsides, your body goes into overdrive with the overwhelming sensitivity between your legs and all he can do is laugh at the way you practically do kick him.

Right off the bed, actually, he tumbles. 

You lay there, staring into space as you attempt to bring yourself back to reality when you see his messy hair and glistening eyes peek from the edge of your bed at you. His shoulders huffing with each deep breath he takes. 

“Jesus fucking christ.” You manage to gasp out, spread eagle and almost completely naked on your bed save for the forgotten shirt that’s still pushed up to your collarbone. 

He makes his way back up to you, pressing your legs together, lowering your shirt, and planting his heavy dead-weight right on top of you. 

A solid ten minutes pass as the two of you lay there in the mess you’ve both created. Heavy breaths turn to easy, balanced breaths together. You can barely hold your eyes open when he finally rolls off of you and right up against your side. 

“Can I ask you something?” He mutters, throat dry and stomach growling embarrassingly loud. 

“Hm?” You hum out, entirely ready to just sleep in the mess.

“Are you always like that?” He questions, a little hint of doubt breaking his confidence. “Like, did Sunghoon see you act like that too?” 

You crack your eyes open and instantly turn to face him. 

“You’re insane if you think Sunghoon is that good. I’ve never used the word ‘please’ in my life.”

Jake glances away, thinking to himself and letting those words sink in.

“Well,” He starts, pausing and feeling that little pit in his stomach return. “That’s a lie because I’ve heard you use your manners at least twice in the years I’ve known you.” 

You smile, loving that the two of you can still be somewhat catty and playful even after the fact that you just realized how insanely in love with him you are. 

“Jake, no one has ever made me act like this in bed.” You try to reassure him. “I don’t think anyone else could, besides you.”

He smiles with a nod, running his hands down your body before pausing at the half dried cum that managed to make its way up to your stomach. And then? He groans. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It’s insane really, that all it took for you to fall in love with the person you think you were always meant to love was him admitting it. Even more insane that he decided to take the route that involved faux playful head, with no feelings attached despite his feelings being deeply fucking attached. 

Still, the route taken to get to this point, he thinks, is fitting for the two of you. Especially now that he can look at Sunghoon without wanting to strangle him, and he can look at you knowing you’d very much invite him to strangle you, you know, considering the fact that you’re now trying to explore every sexual realm in the fucking universe with him.

Even with the desperate need to have you under him any chance he gets, and the fucking, and the arousal, none of it shines brighter than the small intimate moments he has with you that aren’t weighed down by pining or lust. 

As playful as the two of you are together, there is so much love here. So much love to still be discovered too, and he can’t help but feel excited by it. 

Romance isn’t dead, despite how the two of you tried to fucking butcher it. 

[solxamber]

And I Choose...

In which you pick the dorm you want to join

Part 1: Choose Us

Heartslabyul

You never thought you’d see the day when you’d be willingly moving into Heartslabyul, but here you were, standing at the entrance with your bags (and Grim, who was loudly complaining about the lack of a tuna fountain).

Riddle was the first to greet you, looking as composed as ever. “Welcome to Heartslabyul,” he said, hands clasped behind his back. His voice was formal, but the slight upward twitch of his lips betrayed his excitement. “I trust you’ll follow the rules properly now that you’re part of this dorm.”

Before you could respond, Trey appeared beside him, looking far more relaxed. “We’re glad to have you here,” he said with a warm smile. “I already saved you a slice of cake—figured you’d need a snack after all the chaos today.”

Bless this man. Truly.

“Say cheese!”

You barely had time to process Cater’s voice before you were blinded by the flash of his phone. “Oh my Sevens, the new dormie vibe is immaculate! This is totally going on Magicam!” He snapped another selfie, this time pulling you into the frame. “And guess what? I’m using my clones to make moving day a breeze! You’re welcome!”

True to his word, Cater’s clones were already grabbing your stuff. You stared in disbelief as three Cater clones carried a single small bag together while laughing like they were in a cheesy sitcom. Efficiency clearly wasn’t their strong suit, but at least they were trying.

And then there was Ace and Deuce. The moment you’d announced your decision to join Heartslabyul, the duo had erupted into what could only be described as the most uncoordinated, chaotic victory dance you’d ever seen.

Deuce was spinning in circles like he was trying to summon a tornado, while Ace alternated between bad breakdancing and finger guns pointed at no one in particular. “We won! We won!” they chanted, completely ignoring the way Riddle’s eye was twitching in disapproval.

“You know,” you said, watching them make absolute fools of themselves, “I think I made the right choice.”

Grim snorted from his perch on one of your bags. “You’re surrounded by idiots, henchhuman.”

“Maybe,” you said with a grin. “But they’re my idiots.”

Savanaclaw

The moment you announced that you’d chosen Savanaclaw, chaos erupted.

Jack’s tail started wagging so hard it was like a propeller trying to take off. You half-expected him to lift into the air. “You won’t regret it,” he said, his usually calm voice brimming with excitement. “We’ll make sure you feel at home here.”

Ruggie wasted no time grabbing you in a headlock and giving you the noogie of a lifetime. “I knew you’d make the smart choice! You, me, and all this bribe cash—donuts for a whole year, easy! You’re officially part of the Savanaclaw hustle now!”

“Ruggie, I swear, if you ruin my hair—”

But the true shocker was Leona. At first, he played it cool, lounging lazily in his chair like your decision was no big deal. “Hmph, took you long enough,” he said, voice dripping with fake indifference. But then, as if he couldn’t help himself, the corner of his mouth lifted into a smug grin.

And that’s when he pulled out his phone.

“Leona, what are you doing?” you asked, watching as he sidled up to you with the confidence of a king.

“Taking a picture. Gotta rub this in a little.”

Before you could protest, he snapped a selfie of the two of you. Then, with the smoothness of a man who knew exactly what he was doing, he took another.

One went to Vil. The other went to Malleus.

The captions?

To Vil: "Looks like I win. Stay beautiful, princess."

To Malleus: "Better luck next time, lizard."

You groaned, face burning. “Leona, was that really necessary?”

“Absolutely,” he said, slipping his phone back into his pocket and smirking like the cat who caught the canary. “Welcome to the pack, herbivore.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help smiling. Maybe Savanaclaw wasn’t such a bad choice after all.

Octavinelle

The second you announced you were choosing Octavinelle, chaos descended faster than you could say “Mostro Lounge.”

Floyd let out an earsplitting cheer and, before you could blink, scooped you up and tossed you into the air like a beach ball.

“Shriiiimpy’s ours now!” he cackled, catching you before launching you up again like he was testing the room's ceiling height.

“Floyd, please!” you yelled, your life flashing before your eyes as you flailed. “I don’t wanna meet the Great Seven this soon!”

Eventually, Jade stepped in, placing a hand on Floyd’s shoulder. “Now, now, Floyd. Let’s not accidentally lose our new dormmate to an untimely accident. We wouldn’t want to scare them away before they’ve even unpacked.”

Floyd, grumbling, set you down but kept a firm arm around your shoulders, as if daring you to second-guess your decision.

Jade, meanwhile, adjusted his gloves with a serene smile that somehow felt a little too sharp. “Welcome to Octavinelle,” he said smoothly. “It’s wonderful to have you with us. I assure you, you’ll be treated with the utmost care here.” He looked way too pleased with himself, his gaze lingering like he was already planning your initiation.

Then there was Azul.

Azul looked like he’d just won a billion Madol jackpot. His eyes gleamed, and for a moment, it seemed like he was going to break into a little dance right there in the lounge. But then, with Herculean effort, he composed himself, clasping his hands and clearing his throat.

“Well, this is certainly a wise choice,” he said, adjusting his glasses like he hadn’t just been doing mental cartwheels. “I’m honored you’ve decided to join Octavinelle. We’ll make sure all your needs are taken care of.”

But then… he slid a very familiar-looking contract across the counter.

“Of course,” Azul added with a dazzling smile, “just a small formality. You see, this document simply guarantees that you’ll remain a proud Octavinelle student until graduation—oh, and a few other things.”

You stared at the contract hoping it might spontaneously combust. “Azul. I literally just joined. Can I have a minute to breathe before I sign my soul away?”

“No rush, no rush!” Azul said, not looking remotely deterred. “Take your time. But, ah—do keep in mind that signing sooner ensures the best possible benefits…”

As Jade handed you a drink (which you were very suspicious of) and Floyd draped himself over you, already talking about all the “fun” you’d have together, you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d just made a deal with the devil.

Still, as Azul's smug smile softened into something almost genuine, you decided it wasn’t the worst deal in the world.

Scarabia

The moment you announced your decision, Kalim was on you like a whirlwind.

“YOU CHOSE SCARABIA!!” he yelled, tackling you into a hug so tight you thought you might pop like a balloon. Before you could even gasp for air, he was spinning you around the common room like you were some kind of trophy he’d just won.

“This is AMAZING! We’re gonna have so much fun! Parties! Feasts! Adventures! You’re gonna love it here!” Kalim babbled, his infectious excitement making it hard to even feel dizzy despite the rapid spinning.

“Kalim,” you wheezed, clutching his shoulders, “please put me down before my life flashes before my eyes.”

“Oh, right!” he said, gently setting you down with a sheepish laugh. “I got carried away. I’m just so happy!”

As you tried to steady yourself, a much calmer—but no less relieved—voice spoke from behind Kalim.

“I’m glad you chose Scarabia,” Jamil said, his expression carefully composed, though you could see the faintest hint of relief in his eyes.

You blinked at him, surprised. “Really?”

“Yes,” Jamil replied, crossing his arms and glancing away like he didn’t want to elaborate. But after a beat, he sighed and added, “You’re one of the few people here who keeps things balanced. With you around, maybe I’ll have a chance to stay sane.”

Your heart melted a little at his quiet admission, even as Kalim jumped in again, declaring he’d throw a party that night to celebrate your move.

“Let’s get food! Music! Oh, we should decorate your room! Jamil, can we hang up those golden lanterns I found last week? And—”

“Kalim,” Jamil interrupted, pinching the bridge of his nose but unable to hide the faint smile tugging at his lips, “one thing at a time. Let them breathe.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the dynamic, feeling a warm sense of belonging already. Scarabia might be a lot, but it felt like home.

Pomefiore

The second you announced your decision, Epel let out a laugh so sinister it would’ve sent chills down a villain’s spine. “HA! TAKE THAT, EVERYONE ELSE!” he shouted, whipping out his phone to snap a selfie with you.

Of course, Rook popped into the frame with perfect timing, striking an overly dramatic pose as Epel sent the picture straight to the first-year chat. “VICTORY IS OURS!” was the only caption needed.

Before you could even blink, Rook had swooped in, bowing theatrically. “Ah, mon cher, your choice has blessed us with the most magnifique triumph! Let us celebrate with a dance!”

You barely had time to protest before he twirled you around the room like you were in some period drama. His excitement was so contagious you almost didn’t notice when he dipped you dramatically—until you felt yourself tipping back, only to be caught by Vil.

“Honestly, Rook,” Vil sighed, steadying you with all the grace in the world. “Do try not to give them whiplash their first day.”

He turned to you, his usual poised demeanor firmly in place, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed his true feelings. “Welcome to Pomefiore,” he said, his voice soft, yet commanding. “You’ve made the right decision.”

You were about to respond when Vil, ever the perfectionist, immediately began fussing over your uniform. “Honestly, you can’t be seen like this. Your tie is uneven, and—Rook, stop standing there and help them adjust their collar properly!”

As Vil worked, meticulously fixing every little detail, you couldn’t help but notice the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. He might’ve been playing it cool, but there was no hiding how pleased he was to have you here.

Epel and Rook, meanwhile, had started arguing about who deserved the credit for your choice, while Vil made it very clear that it was his influence that sealed the deal.

And just like that, your chaotic new life in Pomefiore began.

Ignihyde

The moment the words “I’m choosing Ignihyde” left your mouth, Idia froze like someone had yanked his power cord out. His hair flickered erratically, and for a second, you thought he might actually pass out.

“Big Brother? Big Brother!” Ortho shook him frantically, his mechanical arms making a soft whirring sound. “Stay with us! They chose us! You can’t glitch out now!”

Idia finally snapped back to reality, though his face was still pale, his hair sputtering like a dying neon sign. “W-Wait, what?! You…chose here? Are you serious? This isn’t like, a prank, right? Did Ortho bribe you?!”

“No pranks, no bribes. I chose Ignihyde,” you said, trying not to laugh at his genuine bewilderment.

He blinked rapidly, processing your words. “B-But the PowerPoint… I thought it was way too cringe. I mean, I had like, fifty slides about food optimization! Who’d find that interesting?! You were supposed to be like, ‘Ew, no thanks,’ and leave!”

“Actually, I thought it was kind of cute,” you admitted, watching as his hair flared a bright pink.

“C-CUTE?! AAHH, STOP, YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THINGS LIKE THAT!” He clutched his hoodie like his heart was going to short-circuit.

“Big Brother, calm down!” Ortho interjected, practically beaming. “They chose us! Isn’t this the best thing ever?”

Idia rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze darting anywhere but at you. “…So, uh, do you wanna, like…celebrate or something? I-I mean, I know you probably have better things to do, b-but if you wanna…play a game or something, that’d be cool.”

You smiled. “I’d love to.”

Ortho let out an excited cheer and zipped over to hug you tightly, his arms surprisingly warm. “Welcome to Ignihyde! I’m so happy you’re here! This is gonna be the best!”

As Ortho buzzed around you, already listing off all the things you could do together, you caught Idia sneaking a shy glance your way. His hair was still flickering pink, and he looked like he couldn’t believe this was real.

You weren’t sure what life in Ignihyde would bring, but if it meant seeing Idia like this—flustered, happy, and maybe a little hopeful—you knew you’d made the right choice.

Diasomnia

The moment you announced you’d chosen Diasomnia, Sebek practically burst into flames.

“OF COURSE YOU CHOSE DIASOMNIA!” he boomed, puffing up with pride. “It’s the only logical choice! With the Young Master here, there was no other dorm worthy of your presence!”

Silver chuckled softly at Sebek’s theatrics, stepping forward with a kind smile. “Welcome to Diasomnia. I’m glad you’re joining us. Let me know if you need help moving your things—I’ll be happy to assist.”

Before you could respond, Lilia appeared out of thin air, laughing like a mischievous ghost. “Ah, welcome, welcome! We’ve been expecting you…or at least, I have. Let me go fetch Malleus so he can hear the good news himself!” And with that, he vanished in a puff of green smoke, leaving you blinking at the empty spot he’d occupied seconds before.

Malleus arrived moments later, his towering presence filling the room. His emerald eyes softened as they landed on you. “I heard you’ve made your decision. Have you truly chosen Diasomnia as your dorm?”

You smiled up at him. “Yeah, I chose Diasomnia.”

The way his face lit up was unlike anything you’d ever seen. His usual composed demeanor melted into something warmer, brighter. He almost looked…giddy.

“This pleases me greatly,” he said, his voice rumbling with quiet joy. “Come. I’ll give you a proper tour of our dorm.”

You didn’t even get a chance to answer before he gently ushered you forward, beginning the grand tour of Diasomnia. Lilia popped in and out of nowhere as you walked, adding bizarre and entirely unnecessary facts.

“And over there,” Lilia said, gesturing to a decorative suit of armor, “is what I wore when I once tripped and almost spilled soup on Malleus when he was a child. Ah, good times.”

Malleus sighed but didn’t stop him. “This area is the library. Feel free to browse the shelves at your leisure. I can show you my favorite tomes later.”

“And this hallway is where Sebek shouted for the first time when he thought Malleus was missing! Nearly shattered all the windows,” Lilia added with a grin.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the whole thing feeling so surreal yet oddly comforting. Silver walked quietly beside you, throwing in the occasional useful tidbit, while Sebek followed behind, grumbling something about Lilia not taking the tour seriously.

By the time the tour ended, you felt strangely at home. The eccentricity, the warmth, the oddly familial atmosphere—it all wrapped around you like a cozy blanket.

Malleus turned to you, his expression soft but sincere. “You’ll be safe here. I’ll personally see to it.”

Lilia smirked. “Safe and well-fed. I’ll whip up something special to celebrate!”

“Please don’t,” Sebek muttered, but you just laughed, already feeling like you belonged.

Secret ending: Ramshackle

When you finally dragged yourself back to Ramshackle, you were met with Grim, lounging on the couch like he hadn't a care in the world.

"Well, henchhuman? Which dorm are we moving to? I hope you picked the one with the best tuna," he yawned, tail flicking lazily.

You slumped down next to him, groaning. "None of them."

Grim's ears perked up. "Huh? What do ya mean, none of them?!"

"I told Crowley to just fix the worst parts of this place. I’d rather stay here. Everyone’s so excited for me to join their dorm—I don’t wanna disappoint them."

Grim blinked at you, then shrugged like it didn’t matter. "Eh, as long as you're still my henchhuman, I don’t care. Besides, this place has character! And by character, I mean it’s haunted, but still."

The next day, Crowley gathered the staff and shared your decision with them. You’d half-expected him to brush off his promise, but to your utter shock, the teachers actually…pitched in.

Vargas showed up first, flexing dramatically. "Alright! Time to show these walls the power of my biceps! I’ll have this place sturdy in no time!" He started hammering away, though you were slightly concerned when he tried to patch a hole in the ceiling using a workout bench.

Trein followed, shaking his head disapprovingly. "This building is a historical relic, and it deserves proper restoration." He brought Lucius along, who mostly supervised by napping in different corners.

Crewel arrived next, snapping his gloves on. "We’re not half-assing this. Ramshackle is getting a full makeover. And you’re going to help, pup. Start scrubbing those floors. Chop, chop!"

Even Sam surprised you by popping up with a toolbox and a grin. "Can’t have my favorite customer living in a death trap, can I? Plus, a little investment in the neighborhood never hurts business!"

The repairs were chaotic but effective. You spent days dodging Vargas’ overly enthusiastic demolition attempts, enduring Trein’s lectures on historical preservation, and running errands for Crewel while he barked orders like you were a rookie in boot camp.

By the end of it, Ramshackle was almost unrecognizable. The roof no longer leaked, the walls were sturdy, and the floors didn’t creak like a ghost was stalking you (though you were pretty sure the ghosts were still there, just quieter).

Grim looked around, nodding in approval. "Not bad, huh? Maybe this place isn’t such a dump anymore."

You smiled, patting his head. "Yeah, it’s still home."

And as you settled back into your slightly less ramshackle life, you couldn’t help but feel a little grateful. Sure, your dorm might not have been the flashiest or fanciest, but it was yours. And that was more than enough.

Masterlist