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solifloris · 10 months ago

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≡;-꒰ 𝑿𝑨𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑹 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓

╰┈➤ ❝ xavier x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : 5+1 trope, pwp (porn with plot), porn with feelings (a. LOT.), poetic descriptions, fluff, with slight angst undertones, references to cards “moment’s respite” “close feelings” “fragment of time” "lightseeking obsession", unrequited but actually requited love, yearning, miscommunication, love confessions, reader is drunk in scene 5, slow dancing, kissing, heavy petting, grinding, fingering, clit play, slight nipple play, multiple orgasms, first time sex (with each other), vaginal sex (raw), needy sex, creampie, praise, dirty talk, use of pet names “angel” “my starlight”. lmk if i missed any tags !! ((slightly unedited))

wc : 13.4k (😭)

an : PHEW OK. i'm going back to my roots guys ... this is LONG, embarRASINGLY LONG but. if you want to skip to the Fun Part, that's in scene 6 (which is like. more than half of the entire thing really) !! also, play the song as you read i promise you won’t regret it <3

taglist : @spotted-salamander @darlingdummycassandra @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valyvinny [sign up here!] / +tyty @unluckywisher for beta reading a part of this the other day 🥺

AO3 LINK 🔗

Five times he couldn't say “I love you”... And one time he actually did.

—ᴏɴᴇ.

“Do you think Lemonette will finally stop bothering us for a while?”

You stifled a yawn as you walked up to your apartment, Xavier’s own footsteps following not too far behind you. The yellow wanderer had been roaming the city causing trouble, and you thought you’d gotten rather sick of seeing its face around—especially now that it had kept you both awake, the threads of sleep having slipped from you both the instant your watch went off. In that moment, a glance at the time told you that it was well past midnight. The sky surrounding the building was darker than dark, light from neither the moon nor stars enough to bring you out of it, the only comfort being the dim gleam of the hallway lights.

“We gave it a good beating, at least…” came his reply, and you shouldn’t have been so surprised to hear the grogginess present in his voice—as if he hadn’t been a large part of the reason Lemonette was rather… annihilated, for lack of a better word.

You smiled.

“Yeah, and no less thanks to you for it,” you chuckled, stretching as the door to your apartment finally came into view. You realized that you’d never once thought you wanted to be in bed any more than you did in that moment.

A momentary silence fell, and you stood by the doorway, turning around to face him.

Xavier remained still.

He seemed contemplating, scanning over your figure, fingers reaching out tentatively… only to fall back to his sides.

“Xavier?”

The call of your voice prompted a shake of his head, and a hint of embarrassment flashed briefly in his eyes.

“It’s nothing,” he mumbled.

It wasn’t nothing.

“You’re not… injured, are you?”

A smile spread on your lips, then.

So he was worried.

“It’s just a scratch,” you shrugged. “You know how it is. Just the usual stuff, I don’t even need first aid for it. It’ll be fine.”

Still, he didn’t move.

“So… Will you be able to sleep okay?”

It was almost comical how he said it, what with how obviously sleepy his own gaze had turned. Eyelids heavy, slow blinks in your direction, as if everything he was doing in that moment was with the intention of conserving as much energy as he could… He was tired. Just as tired as you were. Just as jolted out of his sleep as you had been.

You nodded your head, and reached over to give his shoulder a pat.

“I’ll be okay. Really. Maybe it’s since I’m tired from all of that, but I feel like I could get some pretty good rest! I don’t want to keep bothering you with my sleeping problems, anyway…”

Your eyes met, then.

Xavier’s searched yours, as if trying to ascertain that you weren’t just brushing it off. And this time, he seemed to let impulsivity win—or, whatever it was that made him reach out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

His touch was soft. Gentle. Much like it always was; much like he always was, especially when it came to you. It lingered, the feeling of his skin against your ear, settling to rest by your cheek—and perhaps that was what made it feel more intimate, and soothing, than it otherwise would have been.

You didn’t know it could be so comforting just to look at someone like this.

To share a pause in thought, to enjoy the presence of each other… to have a little bit of your worries melt away the way that they did…

The moment offered more solace than you thought it ever could.

But Xavier tended to have that effect on you.

He always made you feel safe.

“Xavier?” You mumbled, your hand reaching up to rest on his wrist.

“Mh?”

“Um… Thanks. It’s not so bad, even if Lemonette had to bother us tonight. Since… I have you, after all.”

And at that, you watched him smile.

Somehow, the dim lighting around his figure made him appear all the more ethereal than he usually did.

“I think the same,” he nodded.

His hand dropped back to his side, then. His mouth opened and closed for a moment, as if trying to weigh what to say next, before he took a prompt step backwards.

“...Goodnight.”

It was soft, the way he said it. You could have missed it if you weren’t paying attention, and something told you that it wasn’t quite… what he had meant to say.

Still, you smiled.

“Goodnight, Xavier.”

In the end, it wasn’t so bad, like this.

—ᴛᴡᴏ.

How many days was it, now, that you’d found yourself in such a situation?

You stood in his kitchen, hands on your hips, looking at the tray of cookies in front of you. Much to your dismay, they were mostly charred, or otherwise deformed, or otherwise… much too expanded to be considered presentable. Your gaze raised to meet a very expectant one, blue eyes nearly twinkling, and you thought—how could he be so confident?

“Xavier,” you started, and you crossed your arms for emphasis.

It was in an instant that you saw him deflate. If he had ears like a rabbit—a thought you’d had for quite some time now—you were certain they would be folding over his face in near-mortification.

Or guilt, perhaps.

You weren’t quite sure which one it was.

You were sure, however, that it was difficult to scold him properly with the kind of expression he was giving you.

You reached up to scratch your cheek; “It’s not terrible… I mean, you’re getting better…”

“...I followed your instructions, though…” You watched him lean over the counter to take a look at what had become of the cookies, and then he, too, found his nose wrinkling in distaste. “They don’t turn out very well, do they?”

“On the plus side… They don’t taste bad!”

To make a point, you held up a cookie and took a cheerful bite.

“...Well, you know. Aside from the burnt ones, I guess…”

A pout formed on his face with ease, and with the way he’d been leaning over, you were able to notice the slight flutter of his eyelashes with every blink.

For a moment, your heart skipped a beat.

“How are you so good at baking?” he sighed. “I know you’ve been trying to help… But is there something you’re not telling me?” His voice sounded a little dejected, more emotion seeping into it than usual, and you could see his desire to learn reflected cleanly in his gaze. Xavier wasn’t often this expressive. You knew he was genuine with all of this, and especially with all of the impromptu baking lessons that he’d dragged you into.

Not that you ever complained, of course.

To you, any moment you got to spend with him was one of comfort; an opportunity you could never bring yourself to pass up on.

Even if these moments often ended up in…

You took another look at the cookies.

Well, burnt things.

You couldn’t help but laugh.

You knew you weren’t supposed to, and you watched his expression change from one of gloom to that of bewilderment. His eyebrows furrowed slightly as if trying to understand your sudden outburst—and with Xavier, you found, it was this expression that you so unabashedly adored. The confusion made him seem akin to a lost puppy, innocence in his eyes unveiled, a sincere glimpse into the person he didn’t often let you see.

This, with the way the sunlight streamed in through the window, the placement of his kitchen aptly weaved into the path of the sun, made the moment all the more heartwarming.

This was why you could never decline his invitations.

If only to see a little bit more of him the way that you were…

Your laughter settled into a grin, and you shook your head.

“Nothing, it’s just… Xavier, you’re so… So…” You made vague gestures with your hands, trying to find a suitable word. “So cute.”

The confusion in his face no less settled at that, but he crossed his arms. “...Well, so are you.”

You paused.

Your eyes widened.

In retrospect, it wasn’t as if this was anything new. Quips like this would often come out of nowhere; you’d learned to get a little bit used to it. That was the Xavier you were familiar with.

But there was something about the way he said it this time that made your heart skip another beat.

It had been doing that quite often in his presence, as of late.

The softness, perhaps; the directness, perhaps—or maybe it was the way the depth in his eyes made it seem a little more real. He met your gaze head-on, never wavering, never taking back what he’d said.

But in another split second, that moment was gone—and just as you had meant to tease him, now it didn’t seem like the words held much weight for him. There was an easy smile on his face, his eyes softened ever so slightly, but then he reached out for his own cookie to taste. And it was almost as if he hadn’t said anything at all. It was so typical of him to act so nonchalant about it.

Perhaps, part of you wished that he had said something more.

You cleared your throat.

“A- anyway,” you dusted some crumbs off of your clothes, “you can just—you know, try again later? You could follow along with a demonstration, or something… Maybe it was a little much just to recount the recipe to you. But, I really still think you’re improving! This’s a lot better than the last time we baked already, so with more practice I think you—”

Your words felt swallowed down in your throat, his eyes watching you with such intensity that you nearly had to take a step back.

“You’re amazing.”

Huh?

“You’re good at a lot of things. I don’t think I know what I’d be doing with all of this if you weren’t here.”

Again he spoke, with the follow of silent words that, to you, seemed like they never really made it out of his mouth. Like there was something more, something else he would have loved to say out loud, but he… didn’t.

As if he were holding back.

He took the tray from you, setting it aside, his eyes following the sunlight. You noticed him squinting slightly when he found its source, acting, as always, as if he didn’t just say something that could get the butterflies in your stomach acting up. As if the push and pull that had consumed most of the days you’d been spending together as of late didn’t… exist.

You almost didn’t know what to make of it, until he opened his mouth to speak again.

“Can we do this again, sometime?”

“I—huh?”

“I like baking with you.”

His head turned back to face you, and there was a small smile playing on his lips—one that mirrored the one you’d had just moments ago.

“Let’s do this again sometime.”

It wasn’t a question anymore, but a statement.

You swallowed down the fluster in your throat, feeling as if the implications of his words were a lot more than just… This.

But you offered a smile. “O…okay. Yeah. I… I would like that, too.”

It was so difficult to say no to him.

…Not that you’d ever want to say no, anyway.

—ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ.

He would do that quite often, you found.

Your eyebrows knitted together as you glanced up from your textbook, only to find him, chin in his hand, not at all paying attention to the book laid out in front of him. Blue eyes bore into your own, and though that selfsame flurry of butterflies whirled around in your chest, you only crossed your arms at him in response.

The library was quiet.

You were the only ones here at this hour, quite early into the morning, save for a few people scattered in their seats here and there. The only sounds were a few hushed whispers every now and then, the rustling of paper, perhaps the sound of a book closing, a chair scraping. Menial sounds, if only to add to the environment.

Sure, it was a perfect conduit for thoughts to wander, for sleeping to be induced, but—but he promised. He promised to help you study for this exam, or at the very least, that he would study with you so you wouldn't feel alone in it.

Yet here he was, not taking it as seriously as you'd hoped him to.

“What are you even looking at?” you nearly whined, your voice lower so as not to disturb the people around you that were reading. “A library is made for reading, you know…”

You didn't know how to feel at the expression he gave you, rather relaxed and unconcerned, head moving in a little nod. He gestured towards the open book before him; “I have a book,” he spoke matter-of-factly.

You gave him a pout.

“Yes, but you're not reading it…”

“I'm… doing more important things.”

“...Like what?”

“Studying.”

You couldn't tell if he was being serious, but his words definitely made it seem like he was playing around. In fact, had his tone not been so direct, you could have thought he was mocking you.

“Are you making fun of me?” you huffed. “If you didn't want to come here with me, you could've just said so, you know.” You made a face, and then promptly rolled your eyes. “You're not even looking at your book. What are you studying, then?”

And then he smiled.

And it was less irritating to you than it was worrisome, for there was something about that smile that made you feel caught.

Though in what, you weren't quite sure yet.

“Xavie—”

“You.”

You blinked, your words cut off, your brows furrowed in confusion. “...What?”

“You, I'm studying you.”

He reached over and brushed against your hair, knuckles just barely grazing over the side of your head, nearly akin to a slight flutter of the wind. In an instant, you felt a faint trace of dust fall down onto the table. Your eyes followed it, the moment passing in silence.

You bewilderedly blew it away.

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak just yet, only quite having the mental fortitude to look back up at him, the confusion on your face ever more evident.

“There was something in your hair,” he smiled.

Your face flushed, then, and you weren't unaware of the particular gleam in his eyes. He might have been stating the truth, but he was obviously still… teasing.

“Xavier—!”

A finger to your lips, this time, and there was no holding back the smile that formed on his own.

“Shhh,” he spoke quietly, “it's a library. You have to be quiet.”

You couldn't help the way your cheeks bloomed into shades of pink, and you lowered your head back to your book, defeated.

He didn't know the things he made you feel.

There was little sense left in you to find some kind of retort.

—ꜰᴏᴜʀ.

“You have kind of a funny interest in all of these legends,” you mused, following him with more careful footsteps.

Your eyes focused on the cone of ice cream in your hands, delighted at the appearance that you were promised. Though you had to plod through such a touristy place such as this for it, you were glad to have the bunny-shaped sundae cone finally right there in front of you. Holding it up a little, you tilted your head to compare the side-by-side image of the vanilla ears with Xavier, and smiled to yourself.

It kind of looked like him.

Little white ears matched the shade of his hair, and you figured it was maybe just missing those blue eyes you loved so much.

The person in question, on the other hand, seemed to have other ideas on his agenda.

He barely noticed your little self-satisfying antics, brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of the navigation app you’d installed on his phone. It was endearing how adamant he’d been on sticking with an old-fashioned map; this was a side to him you found that you adored dearly. Moving to circle around him, your eyes shone at his expression of concentration, his eyes narrowed, lips jutted out slightly into somewhat of a pout.

God, you really…

The thought remained uncompleted, and you cleared your throat.

“Xavier,” you reached up to lower his phone, shuffling closer to him to take a peek. “I really don’t think it’s that far… If you’re having trouble with it, just give it to me and—”

The phone screen shut as his finger moved over the lock button, and he promptly put it back into his pocket. A little smile, and a shake of his head, and then his arms were steering you forward as if nudging you along to continue walking.

“Nope,” he said, with a shake of his head to emphasize it. “I’ve studied it enough. We just have to walk a little bit in that direction. We’ll see the lovers’ bridge, then.”

Your eyebrows raised in amusement.

You let him steer you, felt the way his hand moved from over your shoulder to back by his sides, your hands brushing every so often. The only way you could distract yourself from it was to stare intensely at the ice cream in your other hand, one that had endured a few little kitten licks from you, but had its shape more obviously affected by the warmer temperature around you. You wondered, in the back of your mind, if it would last before you got to the bridge at all.

“Why do you want to go there, anyway?” You risked a glance back up at him as you spoke.

This little trip, in and of itself, had been planned on very much a whim—or, you supposed, not very planned, at all. But you could recount the few times you had been out with Xavier, and they had often been on your invite. This time, it was he who had insisted on dragging you out along with him, all to find the so-called Lovers’ Bridge that was infamous for its ‘good fortune’.

The white pedestrian bridge, stretching over the river in a sleek, sophisticated figure, had been used as a filming location for a number of romance movies. Of course, these were films that you had seen… But ones you knew Xavier had yet to, especially with the way he usually avoided all those sappy titles in the first place.

It was odd enough that he'd want to visit the bridge for such a reason… Yet there was more.

And you had found out about those reasons not more than a day before you’d left.

Because more than filming locations, was the superstition behind the bridge—a bridge that had completed its construction on Valentine’s Day, thus earning its name. And it had been swirling with promises and legends ever since, ones that reached the ears of even those outside the area. According to what had spread online, crossing the bridge with the one that you loved would ensure a long and happy life with them as a couple. And something churned in the pit of your stomach as you mulled over the thought, tongue darting out for another few licks on the treat that you held.

The taste of vanilla was cooling on your mouth, a welcoming rush of sugar that served as a means for you to ground yourself a little.

Because you and Xavier were not a couple.

In fact, you were far from it.

You were friends; yes, neighbors; yes, colleagues; yes.

Lovers?

The thought brought a blush to your cheeks, because you wished that you were. And you were aware that sometimes, the both of you tended to act like you were. You spent nearly every moment that you could together, the lingering warmth of his touches and his presence near you whenever he could be near you were burned into your memory. The rumours at the Association didn’t fall on deaf ears, either. You knew what people were saying about the both of you, and you oftentimes wished them true—you did. The affections you held for him were undeniable.

But that was quite frankly not the reality you lived in.

Xavier had never been clear about it with his signals, nor direct about his feelings, nor—nor anything else. Nothing official had ever occurred between either of you, not in this oddly-structured game of tag, so shrouded in this push and pull, where the rules remained ambiguous, and where the outcomes presented just as vague.

And it was a terrifying thing to assume.

Yet, without properly explaining why… he had been adamant all day to walk straight into it—the bridge, its surrounding legend, all of it.

“When good luck is involved, it’s better to believe they exist. You have nothing to lose.”

Those were words he was fond of saying, and the only words he would ever use to give you a reason.

The same could be said for this moment.

You found yourself being thoughtful as you fell into step with him, eyes scanning your surroundings, watching the couples that seemed to float in and out of your peripheral vision. There weren’t as many of them as you thought there would be—the bridge was now in your line of sight, its pearly-white structure jumping out against the backdrop of the setting sun. At the very front of its steps was a little bed of flowers; blue, you noted, tinted ever so slightly with the swirl of cotton candy from the clouds above.

The river below it rippled with a darkening pinkish hue.

The sun would be below the horizon in just a few moments.

And at the same time, in perhaps a minute or two, the bridge would be lit up in an equally captivating display of beautiful colors.

Even without the legend, you wouldn’t have minded getting to see something so pretty.

“...Your ice cream is melting.”

You blinked at his voice, your eyes drawing away from the scenery and back to him.

It could have been the shadows of the sunset that made him shine a little brighter in your eyes, now, that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to formulate any sort of response.

His eyes softened, the gentle breeze brushing through his hair.

Sometimes, you thought, there was something about him so inexplicably out of reach. Yet here he was, giving you attention, reaching for your hands, allowing for the heat from his skin to linger upon your own for even just a moment…

And then in these moments, you couldn’t help but think of how lucky you were.

“Aren’t you going to finish that?” he mumbled. There was a slight shift of his gaze towards the cone in your hand, before he looked at you again. “It might make your hand all sticky if we go and walk on the bridge right now…”

He was right, of course.

Your own gaze drifted down to the hand with your ice cream, now less of a rabbit, and more of the standard scoop of ice cream for all that it had melted. Parts of it had even begun to drip down onto your hand, but you had barely noticed the feeling.

“Oh, I… I mean, we can wait for the lights to turn on first, so…”

Blinking again as if to snap yourself out of your reverie, you lifted your hand—

Xavier beat you to it.

He had his thumb and index finger wrapped around your wrist, slowly pulling it towards him.

A smile.

You didn’t miss that smile, how could you? Slight, and perhaps, barely visible otherwise, but your breath caught in your throat—Something had you gravitating towards him, nearly entranced in the heat of his stare, sucking in a sharp intake of breath as his tongue darted out to lick at the stains of vanilla that ran over your palm.

You were blushing, probably.

You couldn’t even tell, at that point.

Soft, tiny little kitten clicks at your skin, almost as if to clean up the mess—you couldn’t really have bothered to focus on the expression you were making, feeling your own heart beat so loudly out of your chest that you were certain he could hear it.

“Xavier…” you mumbled.

His eyes twinkled, and he moved his mouth to the treat in your hand, taking a bite of his own.

“Can’t let it go to waste, right?” he licked at his lips.

The clusters of people, then, long-forgotten in the moment you had dared to share with each other, let out a resounding exclamation at amazement, as a click resounded in the air and the bridge before the both of you erupted into dazzling colors. Yet, your skin still tingled at the feeling of his touch, and you felt dazed as you turned your eyes back to him.

“I guess we, um… We should finish this before we go…?”

He chuckled, and then he nodded—“I… Think vanilla isn’t a bad flavor.”

—ꜰɪᴠᴇ.

The spin in your head made your vision hazy. You couldn’t remember, anymore, what time it was—only that your system had become intoxicated long past coherence, and the grass you sat on had a strangely soothing texture to it. And in front of you, right then, was that red, empty solo cup you’d brought with you outside.

You vaguely made out some loud music, and a voice in the background—Tara’s, probably. But you couldn’t be bothered to decipher what she was saying. You didn’t register that she was actually right beside you, trying to keep you engaged in conversation, a hand over your shoulder.

How long it had been like this?

You weren’t quite sure, either.

What you could remember was that Tara had planned a little girls’ party of her own, and it had gotten bigger than anticipated… And you supposed you’d ended up drinking more than you’d expected to. Eventually, you found yourself out in her front yard. It was the night breeze that felt comforting, despite the cold. There were stars out that night—a few of them shone brilliantly above you, and though you weren’t looking at them anymore, their presence made you smile.

It was only when a shadow passed over your figure that you looked up again, head lolled a little to the side, rapid blinks trying to steady on the person in front of you.

“There you are!” Tara stood up from beside you, dusting off some of the dirt from her pants. With a grunt, she managed to pull you up, though your weight naturally rested on her shoulders. Unbeknownst to you, she let out a pleading sigh. “Sorry, Xav… I didn’t notice how much she drank until she went wandering out here…”

Oh…

Xav.

The nickname registered in your head, and your vision, a little less blurry at the snap the information had given you, managed to form Xavier’s figure in front of you. His hair was a little unruly, the white hoodie so familiar on him a little more disheveled than you knew it to be—his eyes, too, held a certain level of concern that you were able to make out.

He had probably been sleeping.

There was a twinge of guilt that lapsed over your face, but it didn’t last—his presence brought on a giddiness you couldn’t have thought to control, and a lopsided grin easily came to prove it.

You slid off of Tara to fall straight into his arms; the scent of his laundry detergent had you sighing. It was almost by instinct that your arms wrapped around his waist.

“Xavier…”

A nuzzle against his chest had Tara clearing her throat then, and she made a pointed gesture.

“Well! She couldn’t stop talking about you, so I figured you were the person I should call! Sorry, really! I didn’t realize it would get this out of hand, but I do need to get to the other guests, too, so I hope I can leave her in your hands! Thanks, Xavier!”

You didn’t notice her leave, not until you felt a warm hand on your back, a familiar, soothing voice speaking softly into your ear.

“Hey… Let’s get you home. Let me just… Call a cab, and—”

“...But you’ll just leaveeee…”

He paused.

“I’m… Taking you home, so you can get some rest.”

“T’my place?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’ll stay w’me?”

The silence that followed only had you clinging to him tighter.

“Seeee…! You’re not answering! You’re gonna leave me ‘gain… And I dunno when I’ll see you again, n’theenn…!”

Your voice trailed off on its own, resorting to nuzzling against him, feeling as if parting from him in this moment would never give you another to hold him so close like this.

But it didn’t last.

The fact was: Xavier was gentle with you; still.

Patient.

Enough to pry you away from him, enough to get you to comply to get in the cab with him, enough to usher you up to your apartment and unlock the door… until the familiar warmth of your couch had you happily sprawling out, hugging the pillows close to you.

You barely had any recollection of what had happened; it was enough for you to know that he had been with you.

That he was still with you.

“Xavie…”

Your hands reached out for his, registering late that you’d been reaching for the glass of water he was holding rather than the hands themselves.

And you frowned.

“Huh? C’mere… Wan’ hold you…”

You made out the shake of his head, gentle gestures to sit you up properly on the couch.

“You have to drink water first,” came his reply.

His voice was so soft.

You could let it get to your head, the mere sound of it bringing a silly grin onto your face, a giggle bubbling past your throat. “Oooh… Can you say it again?”

It was clearly nonsensical, and you noted yet another shake of his head, the patience in his eyes ever evident despite all of your antics. It could only make you giggle even more, your hands falling to your lap, expression clearly very much out of it.

Until—

“Angel… You’re too drunk. You really need to drink this.”

Angel.

The giggles, the laughter, all stopped abruptly. You felt your expression shift into that of wonder, your eyes wide and blinking curiously. Somehow, the nickname sent all kinds of flutters into your stomach—ones you couldn’t bring yourself to understand, especially in the state that you were in.

You leaned forward:

“You’re right… You’re like an angel…”

Your voice was light and airy, nearly akin to a gasp, and perhaps you might have giggled it off again had Xavier not reacted with a sigh. Because before you could do anything else, he moved his hand to rest gently over the curve of your spine, bringing the glass up to your lips.

It registered, then.

Your response was immediate, as if nearly conditioned, allowing him to tilt the glass upwards. You found yourself eagerly gulping at the water as it flowed down your throat; you hadn’t realized how much you needed the water. You were suddenly all the more grateful he had given it to you, gasping for air once the glass had been drained empty, and then blinking to look at him through hazy eyes.

“Better?” he murmured.

The hand on your back gave you soft, gentle rubs as he set the glass down, and then he reached up to brush the strands of hair from out of your face.

Immediately, you stilled. All traces of your giggles seemingly washed away with the water you’d drunk. You certainly didn’t feel any less intoxicated than earlier, but his touch through your shirt, and the soft caress on your cheek, felt all the more heightened that this moment felt nearly surreal to you. It was then that you could notice those favorite blue eyes of yours, staring into your own, searching your own, soft, and full of worry, and—

And something else.

Something you weren’t coherent enough to put a label to.

But something that caused tears to well up in your eyes.

“Xavie,” you pouted, though you kept relatively still nonetheless, if only to lean more into his touch. “Why’re you lookin’ a’me like that?”

You caught the faintest trace of a smile on his lips, but he didn’t move away.

“Like what, angel?”

That nickname again.

You groaned as you fell back against the couch, grabbing a pillow to bring it up to your face.

Something about that nickname was driving you insane.

You felt your cheeks flush a cherry red, not just from the alcohol, and more likely from whatever else he was making you feel. You couldn’t quite tell what expression you were making, hidden behind the pillow, fighting some sort of giddy urge to let out a squeal. You didn’t even know how you had the space to overanalyze it. But the questions swirled in your head before you could stop it—has he said it to anyone else before? Was it just… you? Was it supposed to be… Common, and you weren’t aware of it?

The possibilities that plagued you only allowed another groan to sneak past your lips;

“Wh- why’re you callin’ me that, too! A-an’ being all soft with me, s’like… like you mean something…”

You felt the couch shift beside you, and although you still refused to look at him, you felt yourself naturally gravitating into his warmth.

“Do you… want me to mean something?”

This time, you sniffled.

Saved from his gaze, you quickly moved to bury your face back into his hoodie, allowing yourself to focus on his scent, on the way he held you like this, on the way—for even just a moment—he felt… yours.

“Dunnoooo,” you whined. “I’unno what you’re thinking… I never knowww what you’re thinking! Always so nice to me n’then you leave me all alone the next, then I’unno where to find you anymore… Say all these things n’keep me all close t’you, then you act like nothin’ happened…”

You rambled into his chest, your voice slurred and muffled into the fabric, gripping at his hoodie as if he could disappear in any next second. They were similar words to what you’d said by Tara’s front yard, similar feelings of refusing to let him go. But speaking them out with more clarity—whatever clarity you could muster the way you were speaking now—felt like twisting a knife into your heart.

Because all your thoughts had been clouded with him.

They were all-consuming, deliberately buried down into the pit of your stomach only to resurface with an intensity you could barely fathom yourself. How he’d been treating you, the words that he’d say… For the past days, for the past weeks, just—just him. Him, and his eyes, and his hair, and his voice. His touch. His presence. His comfort.

The Xavier you knew you’d come to love.

A hiccup bubbled in your throat, and you let out a quiet whimper in attempts to quell it.

Love.

Was that the emotion you couldn’t pinpoint?

Was that what you were feeling?

The visceral grip that he had on everything that you were; was that what you could call… Love?

“This isn’t the kind of time we should be talking about this…” You felt him murmur into your hair, a soft kiss placed on the crown of your head. Yet he wasn’t pulling away. He kept his hand on your back, soft, gentle caresses, trying to soothe you from the outpour of emotions you had barely the consciousness to control. “You’re not going to remember this tomorrow. How about we talk about it then?”

“B-but… But you always make excuses!”

“Angel…”

You looked up this time, sniffling in irregulated breaths, eyes watery with tears that were threatening to spill.

“You can’t call me that!” you insisted. Your hands balled into a fist. “D’you know what that means?! W-what if it’s making my heart all restless? N’you can act all calm like it’s nothing!”

“...I’m sorry…”

“An’—an’ you’re… You’re so warm… You’re like a fluffy cloud… N’what if you leave? What if you’re only here ‘cause m’like this, and then the rain passes n’you just leave me all alone again, an’... then the sky won’t have any stars, either, n’I’ll be all alone—”

You could register the mix of confusion and concern on his face, your words barely making sense even to you, but your grip on his hoodie remained tight. You felt it, the way your tears rolled down your cheeks, your own expression a mix of desperation and a confusion that likely mirrored his own.

“Just… Just don’t… Don’t leave, Xavie…” you felt your lower lip tremble. “I’on wanna be left all alone… M’scared… I’on wan’ you t’leave…”

Your voice became smaller and smaller with each word, and you were left there, sniffling for a moment, looking up at him with a certain kind of hopelessness.

You were aware, at least, that you likely looked pathetic in his gaze like this.

“...M’sorry, Xav, I-I’unno what…”

Your words swallowed back into your throat when he reached out, brushing his thumb over your cheeks, over the corners of your eyes, wiping away your tears. His touch, as always, felt like a gentle caress. Patient, despite the incoherence of your thoughts and your actions; kind, despite the way you were keeping him here with you very likely against his will.

But he squeezed your hand.

You knew what that meant.

You gulped, looking up at him again, allowing his touch to lull you into a calm as it often did.

“It’s okay,” he mumbled. “I won’t leave. You have me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Through the haze of your eyes, half blurred from the alcohol and half from the tears, you caught the softening of his gaze. He moved closer, a little bit—slow, steady movements. And then he pulled your arm back over him, his own moving to rest in your hair… Until you were encased in the warmth of his embrace.

Almost just as earlier, except this time more… real.

He didn’t feel like an afterimage, not now.

Not in this moment.

His head dipped down, nuzzling against your neck, and he sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way, I’ll… I’ll do better. I’ll stay with you. I’ll be right here.”

His breath tickled your skin when he spoke. And, to you, these were words that you felt were more genuine than you had heard from him in a while. It was enough to have you comfortably settling into his hold, eyes falling closed, breaths beginning to even you out.

Your head still throbbed.

It was a combination of everything; all of these feelings, and the alcohol that had planted itself into your system far past any level of sensibility.

Maybe he was right.

Maybe you wouldn’t recall any of this when you woke up the next day.

You tended not to remember things when you got like this, after all.

But still, your arms wrapped around him, returning the embrace.

“...I love you, Xavier,” you whispered.

Maybe he wouldn’t remember anything, either.

—ꜱɪx ... xᴀᴠɪ��ʀ.

The soft clinking of spoon against the mug was all he could hear.

It was late in the afternoon, leaves rustling gentle against the kitchen window. The atmosphere was quiet, and peaceful—enough for him to let out a little yawn, eyes blinking slowly in the golden rays of the light.

The tiredness was catching up to him.

Fluctuations had been far more unsteady than usual these past few days, and it only meant another morning full of missions for the both of you. Now, here, where in his apartment the both of you decided to relax in, was the first moment of pause the two of you had been granted in a while.

He recalled, too, the complaints you’d muttered on the way back. Though you’d done so on the premise he wouldn’t hear you, he did, anyway. It brought a little smile to his face thinking of the tone of voice you had taken.

For though headstrong and dedicated to your job as you were, you, like all Hunters in the Association, had the right to feel weary. You deserved moments of rest, such as now. Xavier couldn’t blame you for your complaints. He wouldn’t dare.

Like a distant whisper in his mind came words that were familiar to him; words that he wished he had another moment to comfort;

“I’m tired, Xavier… What if I can’t brandish my sword one day? What then?”

The memory made him close his eyes, jaw tightened in a grind of his teeth.

What he’d said, then, were words he had never gotten the chance to fulfil—words he could never take back. He could remember them, still. It was of the last few times that their conversations had been cordial.

And it was the moment he realized that words were not enough; they never would be. Not if he couldn’t live by them. Not with all the promises he had easily broken.

He wondered, then, how many things of the past he’d come to regret.

With a shake of his head, Xavier carried the mug carefully out the kitchen, sure not to let its contents spill. This was your favorite flavor of tea, and it always had been. If he couldn’t make up for lost hours and missed opportunities then, he would make up for it now.

He would try to.

“Hey, Xavier?” Your voice called out, getting steadily clearer to him as his footsteps padded the wooden flooring of his living room. It was his apartment, one he’d know the layout of like the back of his hand—yet he found, instead, that his path had moreso been mapped out by the sound of your voice. “I realize I never got to ask what these are. Is this… Are these what I’m thinking they are…?”

He blinked.

You weren’t where he’d left you, just earlier.

You’d stood up from the couch, the soft rabbit plushie now out of your hands and since left to the side, looking a little dazed. His own gaze flitted from the toy up to your figure, crouched beside a little wooden stand by the corner of the room. In a manner he’d always found familiar, your head was tilted to the side, pure evidence of your own curiosity. And on top of the stand lay a case, beige as most things in his home, raised slightly open to reveal the touches of a little turntable.

Immediately, his eyes softened in understanding.

“It’s a record player. And those are vinyls.”

He walked up behind you to tap on your shoulder, and the way your eyes lit up at the sight of the mug in his hands nearly made his heart skip a beat.

“Really?!” you exclaimed, taking the tea into your own hands. Your shoulders lifted, whether by the warmth of the drink or your own excitement, Xavier wasn’t quite sure. But he smiled, nonetheless.

“Really.”

“Aren’t those from… Incredibly long ago? I mean, I’ve always known you were old-fashioned by nature, but I didn’t expect you to have things like these, too… I don’t think I’ve ever seen them outside of those little antique shops we pass by sometimes.”

You were rambling, almost.

He knew you got like this when you were excited.

Your expression became more animated than usual as you spoke, leaning in to get a closer look, and he almost laughed.

For all the times you’d call him adorable, he almost wanted to say it back to you, this time.

He almost did.

But when you looked at him next, there was a certain plea to your gaze, the corners of your mouth then turned down into a little pout. “Please can we play something?” The hopefulness laced into your voice didn’t go unnoticed by him. “I’ve never heard you use it before! What’s the use of having it sit around if we don’t get to hear what it plays?”

It felt ironic, looking at the image presented before him. The stand the player rested on had two shelves lodged within it, the bottom hosting a set of vinyls, the one above it hosting none other than a stereo. And suffice to say, the stereo had been used a lot more. The case of the player was well-kept, cleaned and shined every now and then… But it was obvious it had barely been used. It might as well have been new. Xavier himself couldn’t recall the last time he’d used it.

But that you were asking him to, only meant that he would give in. It was difficult to say no to you.

He could hardly dream of it.

“Okay,” he said finally, nodding his head in the direction of the vinyls.

The both of you crouched down to look at the titles, Xavier watching intently as your fingers traced over the record sleeves. They were soft, slow, contemplating motions. You took each one out of its place to look at the cover, eyes skimming the title, before putting it back down—rinse, and repeat.

This time, he did laugh. There was a confused sort of wonder on your face; he was sure that these titles were anything but familiar to you.

“Are you having trouble choosing?” he offered, leaning in closer to look at the records themselves.

Here, sitting so close to you, he could feel the warmth from the tea that you had only taken a few sips of, the scent of your perfume equally as notable in the space between you. Part of him, perhaps, wanted to prolong the moment.

He liked being close to you.

“Mmh… I’m not sure what to expect from either of these,” you admitted, your face scrunched up in concentration. Still your hands trailed over the jackets, and without thinking, he reached over to rest his own hand over your wrist.

When you looked at him, he was pleasantly surprised to find the faint traces of a blush over your cheeks.

You truly were adorable.

But he shook his head.

“Well… They’re a lot different from what we’d be used to now,” he leaned in closer to you to give you a little nudge. “I could choose for you, but I want you to experience it for yourself, too. So, maybe… Choose something you feel drawn to?”

He stood up, then, willing his heart to calm enough for you not to notice how your proximity was affecting him. Instead, he busied himself with the case, lifting up the lid completely to reveal the knobs and switches not otherwise visible just earlier. He tried to remember the last time he’d cleaned it, but it seemed to be in a condition good enough to be able to work, anyway. There was a part of him that let out a sigh of relief at the confirmation; the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint you with it.

“Katharine McPhee…” you mumbled, then.

“It’s a pretty name. The cover looked interesting, too, and the song title is… Well…” Your voice trailed off with a shrug, and he looked back at you, blinking at the vinyl you held in your hands.

Slowly, his lips turned back into a little smile.

Oh. That song.

You handed it over to him, expression expectant, as you took another sip of your tea.

“I actually… Don’t really remember how to use it.”

The soft admission fell from his lips, an honest warning that only earned a scoff from you in reply. He didn’t look at you this time, as he gently slid the record out of its jacket and placed it on the turntable. He didn’t need to, after all. He’d memorized enough of your expressions—the mirth in your eyes, the tugging of a teasing smirk against your lips that would eventually spill into a grin… He was sure you had your head tilted in quiet observance, his own hands moving to push the needle flush against the record.

After he reached over to flip the power switch on, he straightened, arms crossed, a hope in his eyes that could have mirrored your own. In a similar manner, you peeked out from behind him.

And then the first notes of a song flouted out from the box.

Mellow tunes wafted around the living room, a different kind of fullness to it compared to the music that both of you were used to hearing from the speakers. The gentle strumming of the guitar, the soft hums that started off the song—he breathed out a sigh of relief, while you, on the other hand, let out an exclamation of amazement.

In his head, he would have likened your behavior to that of a puppy who’d gotten a new toy. The mere thought of it had him glancing away for a moment, the back of his hand covering his mouth to hide his smile.

Yet, he—couldn’t quite look away from you.

It was hard to look away.

It always has been, when you had since filled his heart with a song of its own, and he’d always been so vividly aware of your presence ever since.

As if you were the only thing that truly mattered to him.

And perhaps, you were.

He could think back to these past months, every little glance the two of you would share, every brush of your hands, every caress he dared to initiate, every hold on you he’d be greedy enough to take for his own.

One of the earlier nights he’d let his self-indulgence get the better of him, he almost said those words—always on the tip of his tongue, always surging through his heart with an intensity he had to fight back so as not to scare you. And I love you became goodnight; I love you became stay; I love you became come back; I love you became come with me.

It became a glance. It became a touch, it became the tug of your hand. It became gentle ruffles of your hair, it became smiles, it became laughs, it became—you.

Love became you.

And now, the crisp noise emanating from the player seemed to wrap you in its embrace, smoothly, as you began to sway. Your feet shifted side to side as you let your head bob in time with every step, every little shuffle. You’d tucked your hair behind your ear, and your eyes closed. And he couldn’t help but notice—admire—the warm cascade of sunlight over your hair, shrouding you with a glow more ethereal than he’d ever seen… even with you. You were brighter than the sun. Brighter than the stars. Brighter than anything else, brighter than whatever light his Evol could possibly conjure, and just enough to match the warmth that being here with you, unfiltered and peaceful… filled him with.

“You know… I really like this song!” Your voice echoed through the music then, more noticeable to him than any other sound in the room. You turned your head, eyes meeting his own—”You’re right, it doesn’t sound at all like the kind of music we’d listen to these days, but the melody is really catchy, and her voice is really smooth, and—”

“Dance with me?”

Xavier spoke before he could stop himself.

In the next second he felt a sudden surge of heat at his own statement, nearly retracting his words to look away in embarrassment…

But he didn’t.

Instead, he reached out his hand.

He was sure the tips of his ears were near-glowing red.

He tried again.

“May I… Have this dance?”

And for all that his heart rate had always been naturally slow, he could hear the steady thrum of it in his ears. Louder than usual, quicker than usual, more anticipating than usual. If there was anything that could get him nervous, it was you.

Always you.

But you took his hand.

Your palm in his was small, but just as warm as you always were to him. Just as beautiful, as you always were to him. And perhaps, the world began to fade away, then. It often did, when he was with you. Only, now, in the confines of his home, symphonies echoing in the background, he knew that he was free to hold you as close as he did.

Neither of you spoke for a while as he pulled you up against him, his arms wrapping around your waist, your head against his chest. This was the closest the two of you had ever been in a long, long while, and he realized, then, that the pulse of your heart seemed to beat readily in time to his.

“I didn’t peg you to be a collector type, huh,” you mumbled.

You weren’t looking at him, eyes focused on the shuffle of your feet. He took the opportunity to rest his chin on the top of your head.

“I’m not,” he said quietly. “It was… A gift from a friend, but I haven’t gotten to use it much. It’s… been sitting around.”

He felt you laugh softly against him.

“Yeah? But you’ve kept it around, anyway. Who knows just how old this thing is…”

“...But, it works.”

“Mmh… yeah, it does. Thankfully. And… You know how to use it.”

“I hoped that I would.”

This time, you raised your head, and his breath hitched in his throat. Seeing your eyes, so up close like this, brought on a wave of emotion that he found he had to choke back.

It didn’t stop him from speaking.

“I… thought it might be something you’d like. I’m glad that you do.”

The smile that spread across your face in response to that nearly made his heart jump out of his throat. And the tug of your body closer to him was all he could do to keep those words from spilling out of his mouth.

I love you.

He could say it with a look.

And, sure, you had said it.

He remembered that night.

He’d barely gotten a wink of sleep, holding you in his arms as he had, but you weren’t—You weren’t sober.

And neither of you had talked about that night.

It was as if your relationship had meant to continue for as long as it could without addressing it, and it was driving him insane, and—

And if he could, he would have this moment drag on forever, just you in his arms, a slow dance to the music, as far as he could lie to himself that you were already his without either of you having to say it.

But he knew that was not the case. It couldn't be. And he knew that you knew it, too. He saw it in the way your expression flickered into one of apprehension, and your lips parted to speak.

“Xavier… What are we?”

Your voice came as a soft whisper, with a question he found that he had no immediate answer to. He searched your eyes, brows furrowing, trying to ascertain what it is you were expecting him to say.

He knew what he wanted the two of you to be.

He didn’t know what you were. He didn’t know what… you wanted.

So that was what he said.

“What do you… want us to be?”

It was as if all he knew how to do in that moment was deflect the question back at you.

And you frowned.

“Xavier, that’s not… I don’t…”

The turmoil that made itself obvious in your voice had his heart dropping almost immediately.

Because that was it.

You weren’t sure.

Those words you’d uttered to him just that night were nothing more than a drunken ramble, and he was right—this wasn’t the same as all those years back. Here you were, in his arms, yet every time he’d think you wanted him just as much as he did you, you’d pull back.

How cruel that you would think the same of him, when you could barely be receptive to what advances he could make.

Then, perhaps, he realized there was a limit to how much he could take.

“I know what I want,” he mumbled, then.

His hands moved up to rest against your cheek, a gesture that had become familiar to you, despite the emotional charge behind it, despite the way he could only wish to hold more of you in exactly this way.

And there was so much of you that he held in his heart.

He didn’t even know how to place it anymore. So many years of feelings he’d harbored for you, always, all this time, yet he never knew how to explain it. Neither to you, nor to himself. Because he’d never felt this way with anyone else. To be so full of contentment in someone’s presence; to be so hopelessly enamored by every little thing—even after all this time, this was new to him. New, and profound, and—

And terrifying.

To love you so wholly, so insurmountably, so… so much.

It almost felt foolish how terrifying it was.

His heart felt as though it had lodged itself in his throat, and he was sure that his voice would falter as a result, but this—this was it.

How could he move forward any longer without letting you know?

And it was the way your eyes remained steely on his that allowed him to speak again, determined—

“I want you.”

The music had since been long forgotten. Familiar, yet faded within distant memory, as the world, once more, became filled with you. It had always been like that. In his mind, there were many things that had since receded into cloudiness; a grey abyss of things that once were. Now, the only thoughts that ever seemed to hold clarity to him were thoughts of you.

How much he wanted you.

How much he needed you.

How much he… loved you.

Perhaps, he couldn’t say those words just yet.

Instead, he swallowed them with a kiss.

A chance; a risk—an obvious display of the bounds of longing that he’d reached, that had filled to the precipice, that had tortured him beyond an anguish of waiting.

It was an anguish that only you could fill.

The touch of your lips against his, soft and supple, the way you craned your neck for more of it, the way your arms tugged him closer, closer, pressing him into you if he should dare pull away…

“Again,” you whispered.

And he had his answer, then.

You wanted this just as much as he wanted you.

So he kissed you again.

And again.

“More,” you pleaded, and each and every time you parted with one another, he could only think, perhaps, that there was no place else he would rather be than here with you. The quiet, crackling tune faded into your heedy breaths against each others’ lips. Right then, the music came to its own end, bringing with it a different kind of symphony that now danced within the depths of your eyes.

He felt your hands slide down from his neck back to tug at his sweatshirt, and his forehead moved to rest against yours.

“Satisfied?” he smiled, his voice lighter than it had been today.

“When it comes to you? Never, really.” Your noses bumped together, the slightest nuzzle filled with an insurmountable kind of affection. ”Because I want you, too.”

Those were simple words—but a direct revelation of your feelings, a direct reciprocation of his own, and—naturally, they spoke volumes. Enough for his heart to fill with warmth. Enough for his shoulders to relax, with a sort of relief he wouldn’t be able to explain to you if you asked. And he held you in his embrace, arms still wrapped comfortably around your figure, knowing that he could let go, but… he didn’t quite want to. Not at all. Not when you felt so right with him here; not when the implication of your words settled deeply into his chest.

So instead, he let out a slow, heavy breath, and perhaps he couldn’t help it anymore. His lips gradually inched back impossibly closer to yours, his gaze straying down from your eyes, dizzying, almost, at the way you were barely touching—

“How much?” he mumbled, because an agony of waiting couldn’t possibly be resolved in a single moment.

You let out a soft laugh.

“For forever,” you rolled your eyes, but you smiled. “If having you forever could ever be enough.”

His breath hitched.

Forever.

Forever sounded like bliss with you. Forever sounded far more wondrous than whatever fantasies lived in the pages of those books on his shelves; far more than anything he had ever, ever wished for. And he had wished for this for a long, long time. For you had always been in his heart. He knew, now, that he was in yours.

And forever was as long of a time he was willing to spend with you.

“I’d like that.”

Then his hands gripped your waist tightly, desperately, as his lips came crashing down once more—and this time, the desperation that had coiled itself in the depths of his heart found freedom in the way that he kissed you. Like clawing; almost, as if afraid he could never get another moment like this, as if afraid you could disappear from right in front of him, right then and there.

As if he wouldn't let you.

He couldn't.

And the longer the kiss continued, the hungrier it became.

There was the scent of your perfume, the scent of your shampoo, the taste of your lipgloss… All-engulfing, more, and more, until all he could feel was you. All he could taste was you. You, and you—so warm, and so right, and—his.

All his.

All while he felt your hand tangle into the roots of his hair, and you panted hazily into his open mouth, desperately wanting to breathe, and yet—neither of you wanted this moment to ever end.

And the both of you had an inkling of exactly where this was intending to lead.

Feet shuffled against the floor, a few steps backwards, but neither of you got very far before Xavier was lifting you up into the air. His arms supported the weight of your body through your back and your knees, positioning you into a princess carry—he noted the squeal that you let out, your eyes finding his in search of confirmation. It was, perhaps, instinct the way you clung to his waist next.

But he had never been more grateful for the straightforward layout of his apartment, keen to lay you down on his bed with a promise of much, much, much more. The weight on the mattress shifted, and his figure crawled over your body, the faintest brush of his knuckles against your skin. From this angle, you caged between his arms, legs slotted between yours, his weight holding him up by his forearms—you were beautiful.

More beautiful than you always had been.

The redness that surrounded your lips, lipstick askew, swollen from your kisses… Your hair was splayed out against the pillows, disheveled than things had started with. And there was a certain longing in your eyes that, he was sure, quite vividly reflected in his own.

He could feel the way his hair had likely gotten just as unruly, the sting in his scalp still tingling from where you had tugged and scraped just moments before. Yet he made no attempts to fix it, the annoyance of his hair nearly in his eyes of no importance to him in this moment. Not when you were here. Not when the tension in the air left him feeling dizzy, the prospect of having you closer making his head spin.

“My starlight,” he whispered, then.

He watched, fondly, at the blush that covered your face—and he came to the realization that the midday glow had melted into skies of velvet.

And this was different, now, from any past sunsets he had ever watched with you.

Now, it streamed in through the window in skyburst reds and yellows. vibrant hues painted over your face, your body… A skyward hearth reflecting the solace he could only ever find in you.

And you were his sky.

You were his home.

You were his… everything.

It was these words that were swallowed back as his lips descended past your cheek, past your jaw, down your neck. He would let actions speak louder than words, this time; the words uttered instead into your skin. His fingers worked deftly to undo the buttons of your blouse, hips rolling into you, a friction that had his breath tremble against your neck. And then a suckle over the soft flesh on your shoulder made you gasp—he’d do it again, and again, lips trailing your skin in search of every mark of you he could finally, finally make his.

His eyes closed.

He could savor the sensation—hot breaths against you, the drag of his hands across the smoothness of your skin, those slow, loving circles he rubbed into your waist before he could tug your clothing off of your body.

Not a word was spoken; not yet.

Only hushed gasps and shaky breaths, every roll of his hips, the friction of his erection against the outline of your sex nearly driving both of you into a quiet dance of insanity.

You broke the quiet first.

“Xavier.”

A shaky whisper as his fingers trailed downwards, pressing flush against your lips, feeling the desperate cling of the fabric against you.

Another stroke of his finger, lewdly accompanied with the wet, sticky sound of your arousal—

“Xavier.”

He looked at you, then. Dragged his gaze from over your figure to the haze in your own.

And he whispered; “Beautiful.”

His strokes against your cunt had your bottom lip quivering, hands slipping from over his back to the mattress below. Little taps against your clit, finger dipping the fabric nearly inside, your wetness seeping through with ease… He could feel every pulse of your pussy, your need for stimulation never more clear to him than in that moment.

And—

“Xavier… Xavier.”

You sounded so sweet.

Every utterance of his name had hip drawing in a breath; he had never before in his life heard it called out with so much… love.

He wanted more of it.

Lips moved to mouth at your breast, as your panties were pushed aside. Slow, open-mouthed kisses, dangerously close to your nipples but not quite—

His finger, then, slid directly over your folds, and you caved.

“Xavier—!”

A louder, uninhibited moan of his name, your back arching into his touch.

And there, displayed in his eyes, was a look of wonder. A look of love.

Your legs spread in response, inviting, daring. You were baring yourself to him so willingly, that you didn’t need to say anything else. The plea in your eyes was enough.

The plea in your voice was enough.

“Xavier…” you spoke again, barely a whisper, your hands moving back to thread through his hair.

And how could he ever deny you?

You shuddered immediately as his lips moved to wrap around your nipple, the heat of your skin against him pulling the corner of his lips up into a little smile. Every flick of his tongue had your body twitching beneath him, and he felt every little jerk with a certain sense of pride.

It was so easy, then, for his finger to push inside.

You gasped, and he pushed deeper—the gentle probing of your hole had you pliant and starved for his touch, his name falling out from your lips in a chant.

“Xavier… Xav—Xavier— Xavier—!”

He groaned against your skin. Your sounds were like music to his ears, a jolt straight down to the tent in his boxers that was almost painful.

Yet still, his eyes never strayed from yours.

He let his teeth graze over your bud as his finger curled inside you, pressing against your gummy walls, just slow, easy thrusts to guide you into the rhythm. And he could see it in your eyes. He searched them, equally as lost in the swirl of haze that had you drowned in the pleasure he gave you—and it was beautiful. Almost heart-wrenchingly beautiful. How he had always wished, yearned, to belong to the inner world behind your irises, and now he—he could.

He only pulled away from your breasts to rest his head by your ear, a low chuckle resounding. He felt the effect of it almost instantly as you clenched over his finger, but he didn’t stop there—a second digit found its way in.

“Shh, I know, angel, I know.”

Quiet, soothing whispers against your ear, his other hand moving to brush the hair out of your face.

This time, the light from the window was bathed in twilight—

He smiled.

That even the moon and the stars would smile upon you, would cover you in their light… The sky itself would speak of love. Of you.

He watched, as your hips, illuminated by the evening glow, began to make more desperate motions. You drew his fingers in deeper, guiding them to rub against the spot that had you crying out another chant of his name. His thumb brushed up against your clit, then, and your hand reached out to grab his arm.

Another smile.

“Is it there, angel?” he murmured. His hair fell over your face as he moved to face you, lips ghosting over yours. And he caught every gasp, every moan, ever drone of his name and every shudder of pleasure he could elicit by repeating the same actions.

Again.

And again.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, wanting him close, his ministrations unrelenting. Long fingers dipped in and out of the heat between your legs, sounds of slick and arousal emanating from your cunt in time with the murmurs you keened into the crook of his neck.

“Close?” he whispered.

Whimpers fell from your mouth as he kissed at the corners of your lips, gently coaxing you closer to your high. Each pump of his fingers had your body arching higher, higher off the mattress, the soft cooing of his voice a catalyst to the climax you were so close to.

“Please,” you begged. “Please, Xavier… Please!”

Your words nearly made his throat close up, eyes closing momentarily as his cock twitched in response to you.

“I know,” he mumbled, “I know, starlight. You can do it, just a little more. Focus on me. Does it feel good?”

He leaned up to kiss the little beads of tears that formed out of the corner of your eyes, whispering against the flutter of your eyelids as the only coherent response you could give was a feeble nod.

“Then cum for me, angel.”

You gasped, and he felt it. Your walls constricted, your body arched, and his words, his voice playing into the heat in your core, so much so that it was much, much easier for you to let go. The coil snapped, and your hips bucked upwards, his name mixing with curses upon your lips that he found… delightful to his ears enough to smile.

“That’s it. There we go. You’re so good, angel, look at you…” He let out a slow breath as he withdrew his fingers from you, watching as your body twitched in the aftermath of your orgasm. Slowly, he slid down your body, hands gripping your thighs to spread you apart, and he placed a soft, barely-there kiss against your clit.

Your body jerked at the contact, and he immediately rubbed soothing circles into your skin, cheek resting against your thigh as he looked up at you with a smile.

“I know,” he whispered, again, “I know. You’re sensitive. I won’t do too much.”

But you shook your head.

His eyes blinked slowly, carefully, as he felt your fingers in his hair, coaxing him back up to you.

“Angel?”

“You’re an angel.”

Your breathing had calmed enough for you to speak this time, the familiar words falling from your lips in a way that made his heart skip a beat.

“You…” he breathed out in disbelief as your foreheads touched, taking in the slightest hint of mirth that became visible in your eyes.

And after all this time—through all the doubts that swirled in his head, through all the desperation to get the timing perfect, in manner with the perfectionism that had been instilled so deeply into his heart—

It was you who spoke the words first.

“I love you.”

And the lump in his throat had prevented him from responding immediately, but you knew.

Your hand reached up to cup his cheek, and like all the years he had felt such a familiar gesture, he allowed himself to surrender. The weight of his head fell into your palm as he nuzzled closely into you, his own eyelids fluttering, as if savouring every bit of affection that you held in that caress.

“My starlight…”

A feeble rasp of the little nickname he’d made for you was all he could muster in the moment, and you, in return, could only chuckle.

Perhaps, it made the moment feel more real.

A soft sigh fell from your lips as he pressed back up against you, as your hands worked to pull down his boxers, as the throbbing of his cock pushed against folds.

“Starlight, I…”

His words melted into a groan as it was you who moved your hips against him, the slide of your sexes coating his member in your slick. And the quiet of the night could not have rang in his head any louder than the wetness between the both of you, evidence of the desire that rang true in your bodies as his hips seemed to move with a mind of their own. His eyes closed as he dragged his length along your folds, breath stuttering as the head of his cock would catch on your entrance with each withdrawal of his hips.

Your breaths were shaky as you hugged him closer, receptive of his slow grinds into you and against you, and he realized, then, that this was real.

Your words were real. There was no alcohol laced into your words this time. Instead, you nodded your head, and he noticed it—a different kind of intoxication, the reflection of his figure stirring in your eyes with unspoken need.

“Xavier…” You whispered again, and it was a plea.

Such a multitude of ways that you could say his name.

“Xavier… please, take me.”

And with one slow thrust, he was there.

Closer to you than ever; as close as the two of you could be.

A moan fell from his lips as the tight passage constricted around him, the thickness of him stretching your walls to accommodate the feeling of being so full.

And it was enough.

“I love you…”

His head fell against your chest as he felt himself tremble, the sensation overwhelming. You were so snug and warm around him, so… perfect. There was no stopping the words from falling out of his lips. He would say it again.

“I love you.”

He felt your breath stutter against the crown of his head, and he buried himself deeper into you, nuzzling into your chest, his body alight with a heat that he could barely begin to fathom.

He loved you so much, it ached.

And you moaned as your head threw back, hands clawing into his back, as his hips began to move. Slowly, at first, the languid pacing of his hips allowing you to feel the drag of his length against your walls, allowing him to soak in the way your cunt would suck him right back into you.

“Xavier, Xavier, Xavier…”

Your sounds were soft from your lips, a melody that had him rhythmically moving in the tune of, only picking up the pace ever so slightly—because he could hardly get enough of you. You drank each other in shamelessly, savouring the taste of your skin, every inch of your bodies colliding with every movement, and it was—enthralling. Breathtaking. Every snap of his hips as he breathed heavily against you had you shuddering. You would meet his grinds with needy little humps of your own, and he—

He could lose himself in this.

And all he could focus on was the endless litany of his name upon your lips, the quiet sound of skin against skin, the near-filthy squelch of your cunt with each dance the two of you would play in.

Until he could barely breathe.

Until his lips were back on yours, and you would hold each other close, hold each other tight, never letting go because this—all of it—was exactly what the both of you needed.

Xavier felt it, then. The squeeze of your walls, the flutters, the pulses—he lifted his head.

His vision was hazy.

All he could think of was you; all he could feel was you; all he could see was you. The flush of your cheeks, the way your eyes looked back at him with a darkened, half-lidded gaze, the way your mouth held open in desperate pants for air.

And he moved harder, harder, faster—

“Angel,” he choked out, holding himself up by his elbows on either side of your body.

“D-don’t stop, Xavi, please, don’t—don’t—”

“M.. M’not stopping, angel… I know… I know, feels s’good, doesn’t it…”

He angled his hips, deliberately pushing his cock against the spots inside of you that he’d memorized, and—

“X- Xavier…!”

His teeth grit as you clenched around him, legs drawing over his hips and keeping him flush against you enough to trigger his own release.

“Take it… C’mon… take it, angel, take it, take—it—”

His head dipped to bury against your hair, tucking you under his chin, keeping you caged in his arms for as long as he could. His hips stuttered as he pumped inside of you, spilling his load with a wave of euphoria that had you both letting out a cry of pleasure. And he pulled out just the littlest bit before sliding in again, shallow thrusts making a mess of his cum, the throb of his cock pulsating against your walls…

Muffled groans turn into trembling breaths, heavy pants as the atmosphere gradually relaxed into contentment.

“I love you.”

He peeled off of your body only to gently stroke at your cheek, taking in the glow in your smile at his words.

So he said it again.

“I love you.”

And he leaned in to pepper kisses over the side of your face, like little specks of stardust, a gather of constellations that could only fill his universe full of you.

You laughed, softly, nuzzling your nose against his.

“You make my heart smile,” you sighed, and he placed a kiss at your eyelids in response.

“And you make mine. Always.” An honest reply. His hands found yours, fingers intertwined, a soft, gentle massage into your palm. “...I love you. I’m sorry I took so long.”

And you smiled.

“You did take long,” you hummed. “But now that you’re here… It’s worth it. Just... Make it up to me and cuddle for a little. Okay?"

His eyes fell closed.

This time, he felt—this was a promise he could make for you. This time, knowing he had you, he thought… Perhaps, he could.

“...Mhm. Rest now,” he whispered. “And I’ll be by your side. Always.”

“You said it again, my heart's in motion; every word feels like a shooting star. I'm at the edge of my emotions, watching the shadows burning in the dark, and I'm in love—and I'm terrified."

[Terrified ; Katharine McPhee]

⁺₊ / an: first of all scene 4 was inspired by the tamsui bridge in taiwan, second of all can you believe this is the first time i used 3rd person pov limited (non-reader)?? and it was such ??? a challenge??? and third of all DID YOU NOTICE… that i used the slow dance trope in direct contrast to sylus’ "once upon a december" drabble hehe i’m smart sometimes <3

ANYWAY my thoughts on this is that writing this made me realize why xavier/mc has always felt so special to me, and why the 21 days card made me so emotional :'> this took reallyyy long to finish because i reaally wanted to convey the gentleness in their relationship (through a reader insert, no less!) while also keeping all that fear and desperation and uncertainties of falling in love still very much real and present 🙏 writing the outline and scenes 5+6 made me cry a little,,, i hope reading this fic has allowed you to feel the depth of their love, too <3

also : mention for @sadfragilegirl for that one request you sent a while back! since you requested "passionate loving smut" with xavier i'd think this fits in with that hehe

© solifloris. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

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baskeigh-ball · 2 years ago

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Ahhh, sorry minor thing (has to do with your body swap comic) just thinking about the Mikey sensory overload bit. I saw this thread on it talking about his sensory issues and it hasn't left my mind since. It basically was a bunch of clips showcasing those issues in the show so seeing it in a comic is such a woah moment. Basically I was just curious on your thoughts on it.

yooo there's a whole thread about it? i haven't seen that but now i really want to omg if anybody has the link or something lmk

ok anyways rant under the cut lets go

I have a Few Thoughts about the bros and their neurodivergencies, both the ones headcanoned by fans and the ones actually confirmed

And these are the two main confirmed ones from the writer/producer of the show! Donnie's was a given just by observing how he's characterized in the show, and Mikey's became obvious once you recognize how hyper and impulsive he can be sometimes.

That one scene in Donnie's Gifts perfectly encapsulates how his brain works for me, where he forgot to mention a famous chef turned into a pig mutant live on television because he wanted to make sure the food he was making at the time turned out right and literally just forgot about the whole ordeal right after lmao

I'll be honest, a lot of the characteristics of ADHD he exhibits for me are mostly personal headcanons since I never took much notice of how his actions in the show can be recontextualized with the knowledge he's neurodivergent, but the one thing I DID notice is how often he goes into his shell.

Obviously it's a box turtle thing, his species is more inclined to hide in their shell since the carapace can actually close fully, making it a viable survival tactic. And with ADHD, I imagine any kind of unpleasant sensation or a sensory overload would trigger this escape mechanism, since being in his shell is equated with safety and control for him. It keeps the Bad Vibes out and lets him recenter himself

As for what would cause a sensory overload for him I have no clue, maybe it wouldn't be anything specific and I don't want to just project my own sensory issues onto him so I shall leave that open ended for now.

Though I do imagine food would be a big thing for him. It seems like one of his bigger special interests, so I'd find it to be an interesting dilemma for him to have a limited palate despite his interest in cooking. He would definitely make it a personal mission to experiment and try as many things as possible just for the chance to find new stuff he finds enjoyable, but in the process end up finding out a bunch of other foods are practically inedible for him.

If anyone has other thoughts on this feel free to add them, I love these kinds of discussions on character analyses and trying to see how their neurodivergencies are portrayed within the context of the show :]

#i also headcanon leo as being adhd just in a different font #and raph as innatentive adhd with just a touch of autism #they all just give me that vibe idk why #rottmnt #rottmnt rant #rottmnt mikey #asks open

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edlikesboys · 3 years ago

Text

Just some Edward x reader smut ;p

Reader is written as gender neutral

Warnings: softdom reader, sub Eddie, slight degradation at the start but then I get sappy and just praise the little munchkin, Bj’s deepthroating, unprotected sex/cumming inside (obviously don’t do this irl), chubby Eddie, Eddie gets insecure but reader comforts him. Lmk if I missed anything <3

“God, you’re such a little whore aren’t you?” You ask Edward, a rhetorical question that leaves him whimpering on the floor, squirming on his knees. “Does the little whore want a kiss?” Eddie nods enthusiastically. Midway through him leaning up towards your face you lean back out of reach.

“Eddie… you know it doesn’t work like that. When you want something you ask for it” you have your eyes closed and lips pressed together in a smile but the cold tone in your voice makes Eddie want to curl up and cry. You’re scolding him, and he pretends to be sad but you both know he enjoys it.

“I-I’m sorry” he sputters out.

“Aww Eddie it’s okay my sweet boy, try again” your tone has eased up and he feels a strong sense of comfort in your presence. You can’t help but spoil him sometimes.

“Can I… Can I please have a kiss” he asks sweetly.

“Of course you can my precious boy” you answer with a smile. You sit down on the edge of your shared bed and Eddie takes a seat on your lap. You place your hands on his plump cheeks and pull him down into a kiss; almost immediately forcing your tongue into his mouth. The kiss leaves Eddie whimpering and squirming in your lap with his hands desperately gripping your shoulders. Eddie grinds down onto you, moaning into your mouth as his leaking cock makes contact with your thigh. The little noises he lets out make you want to devour him. You take one hand off his face and place it on the small of his back, pulling him even closer. Eddie is clumsy with the kiss but his enthusiasm makes up for it. He’s inexperienced but he kisses you like he loves you and that’s enough for you. You pull away from the kiss, much to Eddies disappointment.

"Go lie down, pretty boy" you tell him. Eddie reluctantly stands up and makes his way onto the bed, laying down on top of the covers. You make your way on top of him, straddling his groin. As per usual he lets out a small whimper before his hands land on your hips, trying to rock you. You take his hands in yours and put them by his sides before your hands make their way to the bottom of Eddies shirt.

"Can I take this off, Eddie?" He looks off to the side, unsure of how to answer. Your heart breaks every time Eddie gets insecure about his body, yes he's a little chubby but that doesn't affect the way you think about him at all. Skinny or not, Eddie is still your gorgeous precious boy. In fact, his chub adds a certain charm to him and you think that you probably wouldn’t think he was as cute if he didn’t look the way he did.

"It's okay baby, we can leave it on if you want" He seems slightly relieved that you've decided to let it go and if he's happy then you're happy.

"Are you okay Eddie? Do you want to keep going?" Eddie nods enthusiastically but then remembers,

"Y-yes, yes please, keep going" You smirk at him and move down the bed. You pull on his pants, keeping eye contact the whole time. It’s so fun watching Eddie fall apart, his hand clamped over his mouth to stifle his noises.

“Eddie” He looks directly into your eyes “Do you want me to put you in my mouth?” Eddie shudders and let’s out a small whimper.

“Yes please… I want it… I want it so bad” You pull his hard cock out and spit on it before starting to stroke it. Eddie let’s out a strangled groan and claws his hands into the covers of the bed.

“Please… please use your mouth” Eddie begs.

“Aww okay, but only cause you asked so nicely” you pump him a few more times before taking his throbbing cock into your mouth, Eddie’s reaction is instant as his hands leave the covers and thread through your hair.

“Mmmm fuck…” Eddie let’s out noise after noise, knowing you like it when he’s vocal. You take him all the way down your throat and look up into his eyes. Eddie looks away, embarrassed but keeps his hands where they are. He occasionally thrusts up into your mouth, making you choke on him. He enjoys the noises your throat makes as you struggle to deepthroat him.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum” Eddie chokes out. You pull off him, but continue stroking.

“Where?” You ask him.

“Fuck, all over your face, please?” He asks, struggling to keep himself from bursting.

“Okay pretty boy, come for me, cum all over my face. Cover me in your cum, my precious boy” you give him a pretty smile and that sends him over the edge, with one hand on your arm and the other one gripping the bed, he cums all over your face, painting you in his release. He lets out a long groan before he completely relaxes into the bed, soft pants leaving his mouth.

“That was so good Eddie!” You beam at him. “Such a good boy, you wanna keep going? Got another load for me?” you ask him with a predatory grin. Despite Eddie still very much being in his refractory period, he wants nothing more than to be balls deep inside you.

“Mhmm yup… can keep going” he slurs out. You move off of the bed to get undressed, you catch Eddie staring. He quickly averts his gaze when your eyes meet his, making you giggle. You pick up your shirt to wipe Eddie's load off your face before you join him back on the bed. You climb on top of him and lean down to plant a gentle kiss on his cheek. You keep peppering kisses all over his face as you reach down to pump Eddie's cock. He moves his face to meet your own mouth with his. You keep stroking him through the kiss. Eddie moans into your mouth, making you smile. After stroking him back to full hardness you pull back from him and line his leaking cock up with your hole before Eddie mumbles out a "h-hold on". You immediately stop and search Eddie's face for any signs of discomfort.

"What's wrong Eddie?" You ask, your unoccupied hand coming up to cup his cheek. "Nothing wrong, just felt weird being the only one dressed" He mumbles out, a pink hue visible on his cheeks. "awww Eddie, honey" You get up and off of him; giving him room to get out of his clothes. After a few moments Eddie is sitting on the bed, fully naked. You crawl back over to him.

"God, Eddie you're so pretty" His face lights up red at the praise and he averts his gaze from your piercing eyes. You move your hand back down to his throbbing cock.

"You ready now, Eddie?" You ask just to make sure, consent is important.

"Mhm yes... I'm so ready. Please please please" You giggle at his eagerness and quickly line him up before sinking down onto him. Eddie lets out a guttural moan and his hand fly to your hips. You move up and down, rocking on his hard dick.

Eddie is surprisingly big and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t slightly uncomfortable at first but soon you’re moaning as loud as he is. Eddie desperately thrusts up into you; his stamina somewhat surprising after how hard he’d came just moments earlier.

“Mmm feels so good” Eddie slurs out. You brush his sandy hair out of his eyes before moaning loudly in agreement. Eddie is filling you up so good and you’re surprised at how fast you can feel your release approaching. His cock is stretching your hole so nicely and you wonder how you ever found such a pretty man with an equally amazing dick.

“Fuck, Eddie, I’m so fucking close” you moan out. Eddie nods in understanding; speeding up his thrusts.

“Oh my god, I’m close too. Let’s cum together okay?” Eddie breathes out. He sounds absolutely wrecked and his noises only increase in volume as you lean down to play with his chest.

“Gonna cum while I play with your tits?” You ask Eddie, your choice of words have him letting out a broken moan and nodding his head.

“Yes, I’m so close oh my god” You can feel him twitching inside you and you know you only have a few more seconds before he’s filling you up with his load and you shiver in excitement.

“I- Im cumming” Eddie groans out before he pulls you flush against him and cums heavy and thick inside you. The feeling of him filling you up sends you over the edge and suddenly you’re making a mess all over him. Eddie watched you with rapt attention before exhaustion takes over and his head falls back onto the pillow. You’re both exhausted and can’t even be bothered to clean up or even pull out before you’re drifting off to sleep. You mumble out a “love you” before sleep takes you.

“Love you too” Eddie replies, leaving a soft kiss on your forehead before joining you in slumber.

#I feel so nasty for writing this 😭#edward nashton #edward nashton smut #the riddler #the riddler smut #the riddler x y/n #the riddler x reader #paul dano #dano!riddler #danonation #paul dano smut

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rainileo · 4 years ago

Text

hilariously unpredictable

bf!mingyu x (female reader)

warnings: pwp, somewhat domestic bf mingyu, sweet bf mingyu, best boy mingyu, ass play, spanking, ass biting (?), mingyu likes ass lol, unprotected sex, anal sex, choking, anal fingering, size kink, crying, dom mingyu, mingyu is very skilled sexually lol, pussy slapping, squirting, swearing

lmk if i miss anything (not completely proof read)

feedback is appreciated!

anon’s asked;

What would it feel like to try anal with Mingyu for the first time?

oh my god I can’t stop thinking about mingyu and pussy slapping

a/n: mingyu is our resident ass man,,, so obviously i had to write this lmao. the dialogue kinda lacks and sorry if it makes no sense )i was high writing this im sorry landjsk)

mingyu could be hilariously unpredictable sometimes.

especially in the bedroom. it could be confusing and unexpected when he would randomly come to you, curiously asking if you’d like to try something new in bed. it was surprising because he would always suggest the most random things, varying to very questionable kinks and positions, and so much more.

but it was good, his unpredictability left you on edge, always wondering what he would suggest next, and if it would be something new that you both like and so on.

that was one of the many reasons why you loved mingyu; he was so comfortable around you and could easily express himself around you without judgment. it was a both way type thing and it worked out for the two of you.

now the two of you were seated on the couch, him laying on top of you, head resting on your chest and gently stroking your side underneath yours (his) shirt.

“babe.” mingyu says flatly, looking up to you. the both of you were originally watching the movie until he caught your attention, the movie soon forgotten.

you knew this scenario all to well, recalling him always starting with the ‘babe’.

you turned to him and sigh, “yeah?” you question, tilting your head to the side. his hand that was rubbing your side now squeezes your waist, him now leaving gentle kisses on your chest. once again, you knew this situation all too well and was already preparing for him to suggest something.

“i was talking to the guys,” he says between kisses, “and...” he trails off, biting down into your skin roughly and looks up to you with those eyes. you bite your lip in anticipation, feeling yourself buzz in excitement, “and?” you question a little too quickly for your liking.

“i wanna try anal.” he throws out, squeezing your waist tightly in question and you feel your stomach toss at the proposal. again, he leaves you breathless from his unpredictability. you almost feel lightheaded thinking about it, wondering if it would be a hit or miss.

your heart begins to pound in your chest and you nod, smiling at him happily.

mingyu, being the best boyfriend he is, took you to the shower to help you clean, and he even went over precautions and rules to keep you comfortable and safe. he also fingered you to prepare you as well, stretching you out only using his spit for lubricant.

once the two of you finish, he carries you to the bedroom, sitting himself down on the edge of your shared bed and positioning you to stand between his legs.

you were both completely bare, water droplets still making their way down your damp bodies. the air was cold until his hands immediately find their usual spot on your ass, pulling you closer to him, pressing your chest against his and wrapping your arms around his neck.

his larger body immediately radiated heat on to you, causing you to shiver from the new found warmth. he found it incredibly endearing they way you were so small compared to him that even when he sat on your shared bed that was pretty high up off the ground, his form still towers over you.

“god i love how small you are.” he grunts out and leans in, kissing you roughly. you gasp out against his lips as he spanks your ass harshly; he then takes advantage of your open mouth and forcefully shoves his tongue in to your entrance to explore. you allow him in and continue to intensely make out.

your hands grip onto his shoulders, digging your nails into him as he roughly grabs your ass, spanking it again. you squirm on him and moan into his mouth out of reaction and he pulls away, leaving the two of you breathless, chests both heaving up and down.

the two of you sit in comfortable silence, both staring in awe at each other as the both of you are still slightly damp, swollen lips from the intense kisses and skin a light blush red from the heat of the moment.

but the heat of the moment is cut short when you open your mouth, “who the hell is going on about anal over there?” you randomly blurt out, ruining your sensual moment with mingyu. he burst out laughing at your sudden question, because he didn’t really have a valid answer either.

“it was in the moment,” he says between laughs. you laugh at his excuse and he continues, “it was just the direction of the conversation, just-,” he cuts himself off and pauses, closing his eyes to attempt to regain composure and so do you, successfully failing and laughing together again.

“-just don’t ask?” you finish his sentence, placing your small hands on his cheeks gently. he laughs out of his nose, snorting again cutely and leaning to you once more, pressing your noses together. he nods, agreeing with your comment, “yeah, just don’t ask.” he jokingly dismisses, leaning in to kiss you again, large hands roughly gripping your ass again. he smiles into the kiss and moves his tongue to lick against your bottom lip, making you whimper slightly.

the mood shifts back as you guys kiss for a few more minutes until he pulls away, moving down towards your neck and giving wet kisses all over it. he immediately finds your sweet spot, licking and sucking over it, causing you to moan and shift in front of him. he notes the way your chest rubs against his, your nipples getting harder every time you move. he bends over and leaves his original spot to move down to your boobs, giving them both missed attention by pulling your nipples occasionally and massaging them.

you watch down on him, playing with his hair and biting your lip in anticipation, revelling in the feeling of his mouth. he pulls away and suddenly grips your hips and turns you around in 180 degrees.

you yelp at the suddenness but allow him to manhandle you the way he wants. he moves his hands to your thighs underneath your ass and strokes the skin, pinching causing you to softly gaso. you brace yourself on his knees beside you and he hunches over, leaning down to your tailbone, giving it gentle kisses too.

you reach a hand around to grip his hair, threading your fingers through his locks and pulling as begins he digs his nails into your skin. you flip your hair to the side to get a better look at him and he looks up at you, giving you a devious smirk, biting harshly on the curve of you spine.

your eye brows knit together when he moves his hand between your thighs, index finger lightly brushing against your core. your breathing increases, the sounds of it resounding between the two of you. you shiver and goosebumps erupt along your skin as he strokes the inside of your thigh, avoiding where you needed him the most.

“fuck.” you spit, the gentleness of your voice contrasting the way he suddenly, not so gently slaps your pussy. you yelp and bite your lip, fingers gripping his hair tightly again.

he lifts his head back to level with yours to move your hair over your shoulder and kisses you gently, biting too. “you’re such a good girl for me.” the praise goes straight to you core and you squirm, awaiting his next move.

the friction immediately giving you pleasure. your eyes flutter close in reaction to his touches as he continues to play with you. he leans over to the side table with his other hand and reaches for your lube, speedily putting some on his finger in and going to your awaiting hole and pushing it in quickly and unexpectedly. your mouth drops open in surprise, moaning out and then biting your lip to conceal your noises. the feeling was still foreign but pleasurable. you revel in the slow building pleasure as he pumps his finger into you, his preparation ritual the exact same as he would with the other hole. your knees almost give out from the new pleasure, it all becoming overwhelming in your standing position, which you curse him for putting you in.

“more please,” you weakly let out, moving your hand down to your bundle of nerves to relieve yourself, roughly rubbing to assist in the achievement of pleasure and comfort.

over a few minutes he adds more fingers, slowly and soon enough he has four fingers knuckle deep inside you, pumping in and out of you. you finally indicate that you’re ready when you release a pleasured sigh. he notices and perks,

“are you ready?” he whispers against your spine and you whine, gripping his hair tighter to show your response (which is obviously yes). he smiles against your skin, removing his fingers and impressively picking you up by your rib cage and places you over his lap, straddling him. you’re still facing the opposite direction from him, wanting to see him but he uses your new position to push your chest forwards to kiss and bite at the supple skin of your ass.

you dig your nails into his thigh in reaction and wiggle your ass in his face teasingly. he takes that opportunity to spank you again, a red hand print blooming on your skin. he puts you back into your original position, pulling you against his chest by putting his hand around your neck, lightly asphyxiating you. “are you ready for my cock baby?” he says, now rubbing his dick against your rim, awaiting your approval.

you nod and you turn to face him and lean in to kiss him for the nth time. while you to kiss sloppily, he directs his cock to your hole and pushes in slowly. you whine into his mouth, gripping onto him aggressively, trying to find a way to distract yourself from the burning stretching pain.

“f-fuck, mingyu holy shit.” you never let go of your grip on him, probably leaving colourful marks that he will have to hide later. you struggle and you try to relax around him, as he is barely half way in you. he grunts into your ear and grips your neck harder. “fucking relax.” he demands and you whine out, closing your eyes and concentrating on relaxing.

sometimes mingyu's large dick could be really exciting when it’s in other places other than your ass, but then again you remember you felt the same way when you first fucked him, with the alternative hole.

once you’re finally relaxed, he easily slides fully into you. you let out a long moan, a hand moving to grip his hair between your fingers.“jesus fuck.” you let out against him, your breathing laboured from the new intense feeling. he smiles again at you reaction, now grinding your hips backwards and forwards on his dick.

he loves how uncensored you can become during sex and always finds it incredibly hot. you feel that he enjoyed that when he twitches inside you. “such a dirty mouth.” he comments and you whimper, moving your hips with his force that pushes them.

he moves his right hand between your legs and goes straight to your dripping core, rubbing over your wet hole, and the left moving to wrap around your waist to hold you flush against him.

his fingers easily slide in. you gasp and turn your head to look between your legs. you were dripping around his fingers, the wetness adding as lubricant.

“you fucking love being filled like this, don’t you?” he nuzzles his nose into the side of your face, simultaneously taking in your scent. he pushes on, his words going straight to your center, making you clench around his digits. you nod your head furiously and he chuckles into your ear.

his cock continues to slide in and out of you, the feeling of him against both your walls being practically euphoric.

his fingers strategically thrust inside of you, his thumb going to your clit and rubbing, causing you to moan out, face contorting out of pleasure.

the sensations were so overwhelming and you already felt yourself coming to your end, legs shaking around him.

his fingers and cock coincidentally hit your spots at the exact same time and you throw your head back onto his shoulder,

“fuck!” you let out, back arching and mouth dropping open. his fingers pick up their pace, his hips too; and you feel your end nearing, body practically on fire as sweat builds everywhere. you moan out his name and a string of curses.

his dexterity is mind blowing, to the way he strategically thrusts his hips up into you, his cock going balls deep into you, and the way his fingers pump at the perfect pace and to his thumb that immediately found your clit, and how he altogether manages to hold you against him. he just focuses on your pleasure, letting you build your release. you tightly clench around him with both holes and suddenly your squirting around his fingers, yours and his thighs, including the sheets, now soaked.

seeing you squirt and your essence falling everywhere, and the moan you were releasing is absolutely sinful and it fuels him as he removes his hands from your core and falls onto his back to start roughly fucking up into you. his feet planted onto the floor and yours beside his thighs. you begin to cry from the overstimulation, entire body shaking from the pleasure.

the both of you have completely lost focus as he chases his high and you slump forward onto his knees, his hands going back to your ass as he spanks it way harder than before and you growl and clench around him, too weak to pull yourself up.

“shit” he loudly rasps out, and you just let him fuck you like a doll, you arching your back for him to get a proper view of your center. he groans out, throwing his head back as his hips stutter. his orgasm creeps up on him and he sweats profusely, the physical activity drenching him, including your juices.

“cum in me.” you weakly command and he complies, holding his hips against your pelvis balls deep inside you. you weakly whimper when you feel his cum shoot deep inside you and your arms give out, falling forward between his legs. he lets his hips fall onto the bed as he slumps against the mattress, his grip on your hips letting up.

you both try to regain composure, closing your eyes and breathing heavily. he makes the first move by sitting up and pulling you up too. you tiredly pull yourself up with him, leaning into his back comfortably. he easily ou je you up to pull himself out of you and seats you on his lap. his body cradles you as he moves his fingers down between your thighs to pick up the excess cum that rests in you.

he brings his soiled fingers to your mouth and you take them in slowly, humming at the taste of the mixture of yours and his cum.

“you’re such a good girl for me.” he praises, and your bliss is ruined when he slaps your pussy unexpectedly. you squeal and close your legs around his hand instinctively.

“did you like it?” he questions, his tone is unmoving and it calms you, your heart rate slowing down again. he strokes your inner thighs calmly and you gulp and close your eyes, nodding in response, to tired to accumulate words. he sighs in content at your answer, letting himself relax with you. everything goes silent, and your warmth radiates off of each other, causing you to both have a light sheen of sweat across the both of you. “are you in pain?” the air is calm and your heart beats are the only noises that you both hear, he snuggles into your neck, inhaling your scent and shake your head no. you feel his body relax from your response, worried that he could’ve possibly hurted you.

the air is silent and still.

“let’s do it again.” the stillness is quickly broken when you finally gain the strength to speak. he quirks and chuckles, moving his mouth to your ear, “think you can take it?” his tone is dark again, as he speaks deep into your ear, causing you to shiver, pussy pulsing again.

“fuck yes.” that was all you had to say for him to shove your face into the mattress with your ass up, immediately starting another round.

#joshua smut #mingyu smut #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagine #seventeen smut #wonwoo smut #seungcheol smut #hoshi smut #jeonghan smut #jun smut #woozi smut #the8 smut #dokyeom smut #vernon smut #seungkwan smut #dino smut

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notmrskennedy · 5 years ago

Text

Noticed

Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

A/N - Howdy! Here’s another little something from my drafts. It’s a draft and a half again so be gentle with it. Also, I’m touch averse and I would be so happy to find someone I wasn’t upset with touching. But c’est la vie! I hope y’all enjoy!

Summary - The touch averse agent starts getting touchy....

W/C - 2.5k

Warnings - none I think, but lmk if there is something

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If Morgan was being honest with himself, he thought you were dying. Or maybe ill. Or so feverish you’d abandoned every single principle you had. Because he’d been there that first day of yours, waltzing up from the coffee machine to see you nervously trailing behind Hotch. It was painful to watch, he remembers, so terribly nervous you’d envy the kid on one of his bad days.

He had smiled at you and stirred his coffee and remained optimistic that someone so obviously terrified would be a decent field agent. (You’d been decent and then some, especially in an interrogation room). There’d been one non-committal wave—distinctly reminiscent of a certain genius—and the first full sentence of, “I’m sorry, but I just don’t do the touching thing. Handshakes included.”

Every little touch plagues you. You’re six inches away at all times, lest someone accidentally bump into you or get the wrong idea that you might be willing to brush shoulders. There’s no friendly pats. No high fives. Certainly no hugs. Garcia is furious in her attempt to loosen you up—to no avail—but Morgan knows better than to push. Something makes you hate skin to skin contact and he’s not looking to share trauma stories with you. Not yet.

So this, Morgan thinks as he wanders into the bullpen while stirring his coffee, is a sign that you’ve lost your mind.

He watches as you carefully extend one palm to one Dr. Spencer Reid. Perched on the edge of his desk, you’re a regular fixture, just another cute figurine to add to the collection. It’s the end to some wild discussion he could hear in the kitchenette, full of flailing limbs and butchered sentences. Everyone always thought it was cute, if you stripped away how irritating it could be.

This is the point where you two are caught up in whatever moment you’re having, so much so that you extend an upturned palm between the two of you. Reid threads his hands through his hair, stunned at your peace offering. Or maybe an offering of something more than friendship. Morgan assumes its something more; not only because you have the softest grin he’s ever seen, but because your fingers are practically begging the kid to hold your hand.

Reid’s careful in how he asks his question—Morgan doesn’t know what it is, but he can just tell. The wide eyes. The scared contemplation. The are you sure parting the kid’s lips.

Grinning and blushing, you just wiggle your fingers. Murmur something that Morgan isn’t allowed to hear. Something only for Spencer. There’s surprise before he grips onto your hand, wriggling all ten combined fingers together. You giggle as you spin him around in his desk chair and get tangled up.

Dropped jaw and grinning, Morgan can’t believe you, so touch averse you, are willing engaging in such risky behaviour. There’s a weird few moments when he wants to remind both of you to wear protection in such endeavours.

And as he’s wondering if hands need condoms, the two of you let go and move on like nothing’s happened. You go back to punctuating your points with your flailing hands. Spencer goes back to distracting from his blush with paperwork.

Morgan goes to get more coffee, trying to stop imaging that you two were his kids, growing up without his consent. And maybe also the hand condoms.

It’s shortly after JJ’s wedding—about midnight as the cleaning crew are picking up the straggling drunks—both Hotch and Rossi notice. They’re leaned up against the bar, each smoking a cigar, watching a slightly tipsy you teach an awkwardly sober Spencer Reid how to swing dance.

It’s no secret that you and Reid get on like a house on fire, two nerds that couldn’t shut up about whatever weird ass shit was on your brains. Rossi never made much move to care. Hotch was too stressed to think about what the pair of you did off company time. Everyone, them included, imagined that what time you did spend together was three feet apart. In museums. Wherever. No one questioned what kind of weird nerd shit you did, especially stuff that they couldn’t really be bothered to care about.

Now, they’re forced to carefully consider the implications of how touchy you’re getting. With Reid.

He’s even more gangly and uncoordinated than normal, as Hotch and Rossi watch on, getting thrown around like a rag doll. It’s kind of adorable, Rossi thinks and shares a well meaning look with Hotch. The two of you would be cute and he’s hoping that you do get together. Rossi always knows about these things, even if Hotch is positive that you two are just friends. And as two professional gentlemen do, they made a bet.

Twenty bucks.

Your laugh—one that no one gets tired of hearing—echoes around Rossi’s whole yard, even into his house. Reid’s voice is about two octaves too high as you spin him around on his wobbly feet. You go from three feet apart to chest to chest and back again. Rossi remembers high school dances vaguely and Hotch absently thinks about Hayley’s old infatuation with Grease.

Rossi takes another long drag from his cigar, grateful for the indisputable proof that you two are shacking up. There is no way that two people so touch averse could be touching this much without prior exposure. The yard is a ruckus of both of your laughters, year after year of awkwardness falling off you both in sheets. They’re no denying you two shut in nerds are finally having some fun.

It’s warming both Hotch and Rossi’s hearts.

And their bet.

Penelope notices next. Who knew that such a simple interaction could leave her speechless? Stammering and stuttering over not even a full minute of insanity.

She didn’t know how she’d gotten sick, or what she’d come down with, but the only thing that was keeping her in her work chair was you. And the endless buckets of soup that you kept pouring down her throat. Without a case—thank god—for the last couple days, all that you’ve done is sit in the bat cave, keeping her and her soup warm.

It’s as you are finishing some corny ass joke that she thinks how sweet you are. How loving. Penelope’s love language has always been touch—she’s given too many hugs to count—but it’s taken her a minute to figure out yours. And as she stares into the chicken soup in her hands, she realises that it’s everything you do for her. Your love is literally palpable.

It’s in the bright keychains you bring back. Or the crazy pens. Or the way you always drive her home after drinking.

As she’s opening her mouth to tell you, tell you just how much she appreciates everything, when Reid pops his head in, whole body following. He’s got too much of a grin this early. But when he’s far enough into the room, he spreads his fingers out over your shoulder and squeezes. Says something about a case and you follow behind him with a wave of your hand at Penelope. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Like Penelope hasn’t been the one furiously trying to break you out of your shell. The predetermined first to get a hug in the office.

You’re still up and still waving and by the time she’s got her wits about her, she’s asking, “You let Reid touch you?”

The empty room and the closing door don’t answer.

JJ is nearly the last to find out. Well, your little touching relationship with Spencer has been the only topic of gossip between anyone for the last six weeks. They can’t believe they hadn’t picked up on the little bits of affection passed between the two of you.

Hand touches. Shoulder squeezes. Quick brushes. The mystical hug Morgan claims he once saw.

For the rest of the world, you and Spencer were nothing but friendly. Maybe even best friendly. To the team of highly trained profilers who had been friends with the pair of you for a combined 15 years, this was marriage material. This was you and Spencer screaming the pair of you had eloped.

You two crazy kids had to be together, but the team was left to sussing it out for themselves. Neither of you two would ever say anything, never give anything up. But surely, the three of them—using Penelope would be cheating of course—could figure out when you two had started up. Because you had to have. There was no way all of this was just friendly.

And it isn’t. That much is clear when JJ gets a phone call from you while she’s looking a crime scene over for what feels like the gazillionth time. Some un-sub with the usual cocktail of daddy issues, anger issues, and a healthy dose of narcissism.

It’s rare you call anyone without good reason. You aren’t the type to just chat—everyone has speculated you got enough of that from Spencer. And once JJ says hello, you start bawling.

You’re sobbing and JJ has no idea what to do.

“Y/n, y/n,” she tries, hoping you’ll calm down enough to breathe properly. “You have to tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s—it’s Spencer,” you hiccup. JJ can hear you sniffling into your sleeves. Can hear the blinkers go as you change lanes. “He’s not answering—not answering his phone. And he said he’d—that he’d call, but he hasn’t. And JJ something’s wrong.”

By the way your breath hitches and your sobs crackle into the phone, JJ knows exactly how bad it has to be. Spencer, however, is supposed to be following up a lead with Emily. Some paint huffer in his mom’s garage—nothing more than a routine witness report. She almost can’t believe something would go wrong.

“What happened? Where are you?”

“JJ,” you sniffle before the flood gates open again, “I can just feel it. Something’s wrong.”

JJ’s mind scrambles. As much as you played it off, you had a sixth sense. Every time, every countable time, someone got hurt, you knew before it happened. You had a gut for these things and JJ didn’t want to think about how bad this was going to be. How bloody. So she scrambles for her car and doesn’t wait for the other detectives to figure it out.

JJ’s halfway to the witness’s house when you make it there yourself. You’re still on the phone, doing a horrible attempt at trying to keep each other calm. You’ve traded the sobs for hiccups, thankfully. JJ can hear you climbing the porch stairs. She’s taking corners at 65 miles an hour.

Nothing seems fast enough when JJ hears the phone clatter to the floor and the shout of “oh my god, Spencer!”

Nothing is fast enough when you’re sobbing out, “You can’t die on me like this.”

Nothing is fast enough when JJ quietly but distinctly hears, “I love you too much for you to fucking die, Spencer Reid.”

Spencer Reid always thinks he’s the last to find out. He’s blunt and oblivious and thinks too much to just see what’s in front of his face. He was so sure they had all seen how in love he was, just how desperately he was clinging to the hope they wouldn’t notice. If they didn’t notice, you wouldn’t. Not while wearing the same sort of blinders he wore.

But once everything had come out? He was positive everyone else had known. That he’d come into work one morning and there would be a cake engraved with the words, “Congrats on Shacking Up!”

It never happened. No cake. No lights. No surprises. No one seemed to know or notice or anything. Spencer and you went on like nothing had changed—it really hadn’t anyway. He liked to laugh when you told him the two of you had been practically dating since the first time he’d offered to take you to a Korean film festival.

Two years later and he’s become very aware of you. And also the ache. All of the very dull and consistent ache in his body. Another scar to add to the collection, he bitterly thinks, out of anaesthesia enough to know that he’s in a hospital. That he’s been hurt. That someone’s holding his hand.

It’s calloused and soft and just perfectly latched onto his. A hand he’d waited to hold for too long. One that he’d be holding for the rest of his life.

Attached to the hand is you, sleeping haphazardly between his bed and a plastic chair. Your fingers are tangled in his, head rested on the crook of your arm and the bed. There’s too much of you curled up in a chair. It’s one of his favourite bits about you, just how dedicated you could be. How you were always there when he woke up and always would be.

He smiles and chuckles despite the pain in his ribs. You wake with a start, one startled gasp followed by a shuddery exhale as you realise again where you are. That nothing’s changed. That everything’s changed.

Through lidded eyes, he watches your eyes light up, matching you grin for grin. He watches the anger flash across your face for not even a second, and he knows exactly how bad you want to murder him for scaring you so bad.

Instead, you press frantic kisses to the back of his knuckles, message fully received. You missed him. You’d been terrified. You’d cried so hard, he can still feel the salt on your lips.

“Spencer,” you breathe, giving his hand one more kiss for good measure and pressing his knuckles to your cheek. “God, I’m so glad you’re alive.”

“I’m alive, y/n, I promise,” he whispers back. Hoarse and adorably okay. It’s one thing to expect to get shot going after un-subs. It’s another to get attacked by a PCP addled grandmother.

He wiggles a finger against your cheek. Even though he can’t see your red rimmed eyes or the dark tear tracts on your cheeks, he can feel the tear that pools on his finger. But before he can reassure you one more time, you shush him and tell him to get some sleep and that you’ll both worry about this later. Maybe over jell-o.

He grins.

The team, visiting the next morning, doesn’t have the heart to wake up either of you. Reid looks happy for the first time in—years—with you carefully curled into his side. Sure, there’s a scratchy hospital gown and some pesky lines overriding everything, but it’s cute. No denying that. Thank god you two knuckleheads are finally being open about it. Even if you’re sleeping.

Emily smiles to herself as she readjusts her sling. Morgan and JJ are trading exclamations of shock, while Hotch passes Rossi twenty dollars. You readjust and Reid’s arm moves to rest across your cheek. JJ isn’t subtle when she takes a photo, sniggering.

Emily is even less subtle when she snorts. “I guess I can finally let the cat out of the bag.”

Everyone perks up; she swears she sees Reid open an eye.

“Nearly six months ago, y/n drunkenly confessed to dating Reid. She’s a real wild card on tequila, let me tell you.”

“You knew?” Morgan screeches, “and you didn’t say anything?”

Emily shrugs, winces with her busted up shoulder. “Does it matter? Didn’t we all know?”

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #Criminal Minds #mgg #mgg fluff #fluff

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bratkook · 5 years ago

Text

queen of broken hearts. jjk (m) part two.

Block my posts and my stories, I’m sorry I can be annoying, I go ghost without warning.

part one. part three.

pairing: jungkook x reader genre: smut, heavy angst word count: 6k warnings: jungkook is still in lurv and oc is still a toxic bitch, mentions of infidelity, oral (m receiving), explicit photos being taken after said blowjob, jungkook cries a little but reverse uno cards oc ha author’s note: this was definitely not supposed to get a second part but for some reason i just couldn’t stop writing it so here it is. i might make a few more drabbles bc i like writing this toxic ass relationship but who knows lmk what u think byeeee

A frown is etched onto Jungkook’s face as he eyes his phone, his thumb constantly dragging the screen down until the loading circle appears and shows him the same screen thats been haunting him all day.

No posts yet.

That same line has him morbidly smiling to himself, how could you have no posts yet when he had just liked a selfie of your last night?

Your profile picture in the top left corner mocks him, a mirror photo you took in a room he was all too familiar with. A room he hadn’t been inside of in over two weeks, which was a long time considering you usually called him over every other day.

And now he was apparently blocked.

Jungkook racks his brain for anything he could’ve done, any words he might have let slip out in the throes of passion the last time he had seen you, but he comes up blank. He had done a good job so far keeping his emotions locked up and tucked away, never letting anything more slip out since he first met you years ago.

Sure when he’s in the moment he absolutely wants to spill his heart out, serve it on a silver platter for you and hope its to your liking, but once the heat of it’s all gone and his mind settles he realizes that he missed his chance. His window of opportunity was long gone, the relationship you had now was too twisted, tangled up like roots of a tree that were running rampant, jutting up between the cracks of Jungkook’s sanity.

Back when you first met, being the older sister of the boy he was tutoring, he had no idea that this was what would become of it. You took a liking to him instantly like a lioness latching onto her prey, something new and exciting for you to play with before you took a bite out of him.

He was attractive that much was obvious, his hair was shorter then, giving him a slightly boyish charm that didn’t match his physique of broad shoulders and slim waist, his thick thighs stretching out his jeans in such a delicious way that made your mouth water.

He noticed instantly when you’d linger around the kitchen while he was busy teaching your brother about the pythagorean theorem, mocking him in your low cut tops and tiny lounging shorts, offering him a popsicle as you suckled on one right in front of him. A giant flashing sign hanging over your head that showed him your intentions, showed him just what you were after when it came to him, and he walked right into it.

Jungkook wasn’t inexperienced, having far too many notches on his bed post to explain why he was so god damn intimidated by you, so enamored by a girl who was clearly as cold as the ice pop you were making a show of sucking.

You were filthy and shameless, turning the charm off the second your parents walked in or your brother turned around when he noticed Jungkook was distracted. The second anyone else became aware you’d tug your shirt up and your shorts down, giving your father a smile so sweet it would rot Jungkook’s teeth if he didn’t know the act behind it all.

Jungkook still doesn’t know if he’s thankful for the chain of events that lead to you two sleeping together for the first time, he doesn’t know if he’d take it all back to save himself the torment his heart was currently going through.

Would he have changed his course of action? Chosen to leave immediately after tutoring your brother instead of running up to the bathroom before leaving?

You weren’t even on his mind then, you had been taunting him earlier but after fifteen minutes you retreated into your room, leaving him to focus entirely on being the tutor your parents were paying him good money to be.

So when he pushes the bathroom door open and sees you standing absolutely naked with your wet hair dripping down your body and not an ounce of embarrassment written on your face, he doesn’t even realize he’s shut the door behind him until he hears the soft click of the lock.

You had been loosely planning this all day, hoping he’d end up in your room, but when you heard him trekking up the stairs and towards the bathroom you yanked off your towel and unlocked the door in record time, a tiny oops leaving your mouth when you see his wide eyes.

Jungkook groans into his palms now as he recalls it, how he had taken you on top of your bathroom counter, knocking over the toothbrush holder and soap onto the floor in a loud clatter, the way you had refused to kiss him during it even then, choosing to suck hickeys onto his neck to muffle your cries of pleasure as he stretched you open.

He still remembers the guilt he felt when he exited the bathroom and said goodbye to your brother as if he hadn’t just fucked you raw inside your bathroom when you two had barely spoken a word to each other.

Jungkook should’ve spoken up then, right at the beginning of this all, but instead he let his dick control everything, allowing this to continue.

You had no complaints, getting dicked down by a man as beautiful as Jungkook with no strings attached was god sent, choosing to keep him around even as he stopped tutoring your brother, even after you moved out of your parents’ house and into a place of your own.

Jungkook felt the first spark of hope in his chest at you keeping him around, the possibility that maybe this was more than just sex, more than a quick fix. But then he started noticing the texts to your phone that you’d get while he was balls deep inside of you, different boys with different hearts lined up at the end of it. Thats when he began trying to convince himself that he was just confused about his feelings, that all of this was just lust.

He was wrong. Obviously.

If all he felt was lust he wouldn’t be so upset over being blocked from your instagram. It wasn’t even as if you two interacted on the app, never dming each other, you’d occasionally like the thirst trap gym photos he’d post just to get your attention whereas he’d like every single post of yours.

His finger hovers over your contact name now, opening up your thread of messages and seeing the last one being from him two weeks ago. A simple “i’m outside” text after you had invited him over.

His digits swirl on top of the screen, desperate to shoot you a text, wanting to come across as casual in asking why you blocked him but how could he ask that without exposing that he frequently checked your page.

“No.” He grumbles under his breath, carding his fingers through his long hair and choosing to text his friends instead. An invitation to meet at a diner near by for some greasy food and good conversation, something Jungkook desperately needed right now.

Taehyung and Jimin don’t know about you, none of his friends do so when they push through the entrance of Mel’s and he spots the reason for his distraught emotions he can’t even explain to his friends why they need to sit at the furthest booth from you.

You don’t spot him, you were too busy staring at the boy in front of you with heart eyes he wishes could be aimed at him. A straw is between your teeth as you slurp on your milkshake, covering your mouth to laugh loudly at something the purple haired boy said.

It only irritates him further, his fingers gripping the edges of the menu so hard they pale in color. He knew this was the boy that had text you last time, the purple hearts matching the color of his hair perfectly. Was this why you had blocked him?

“You alright?” Taehyung speaks up, noticing the turmoil brewing on his friend’s face, the way his brows were pinched together, the indent on his forehead deepening every time your laugh filled the diner.

“Yeah.” Jungkook breathes, hoping the simple lie sounds more believable out in the open than in his head. He sets the menu down with care, trying to shake the feeling inside of him before it spread throughout him, morphing into something ugly and green. You didn’t owe him anything, he tells himself, you could do whatever you wanted.

Jimin eyes him carefully, catches on to the way he continues to glance at the corner of the room every now and then. His curiosity gets the best of him so he turns to look over his shoulder and spots you, and you must sense the attention because your eyes move from the purple haired boy over to Jungkook’s booth. Jimin instantly turns around at being caught but its too late, he had been spotted and in turn so had Jungkook.

You continue to slurp on your shake, allowing Namjoon to feed you some fries from his plate while you stare at Jungkook, calling him mentally and hoping he’d look over so you could give him a smile and wave as if you hadn’t ghosted him with no warning.

He can feel your piercing gaze, how you refuse to look away until he stares back but he wont give you that, he wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of seeing the way his face crumbles at you being with another guy after throwing him to the curb. Instead he chooses to continue staring at his straw wrapper like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

His friends can sense his discomfort, not commenting on it and allowing him to guide the conversation until he’s relaxing in his booth, stuffing his face with food until the Jungkook they know reveals himself once more, all smiles and laughs instead of the moping version of himself he was earlier.

That same Jungkook lingers for a while after leaving the diner, a new set of determination in his mind to move on. You had gone ahead and blocked him, did the first part for him and if that wasn’t a sign for him to pack up his feelings and take a hike then he doesn’t know what was.

He finds himself glad he hadn’t asked you for coffee two weeks ago, his nerves getting the best of him being the saving grace for what would’ve been further embarrassment. If you had said yes out of pity only to block him before even going out he probably would’ve dug himself a grave and face planted right into it.

For the first time in a very long time he finds himself not thinking of you, resuming his earlier activities of dating the girls who pursued him. He hadn’t realized how much of you consumed him until he was with someone else, kissing a girl who was kissing him because she wanted to, not because she was trying to muffle a confession she knew was coming.

By the fourth week Jungkook is proud of himself, applauding his strength for not succumbing to you, caving and texting you for an explanation. He wasn’t weak.

He wasn’t.

Until his phone dings with a notification.

His hand freezes on its way to his mouth, cheeto dust coating his finger from snacking while he binge watched random shows on Netflix. Jungkook doesn’t know whats waiting for him as he licks his fingers before grabbing his phone, the cheeto dust going down the wrong pipe as he saw your name flashing on his phone in the form of an instagram notification.

He pounds on his chest with his fist, uncapping his water and gulping it down to get rid of the scratchy feeling now lingering in his throat.

You had just followed him.

You followed him again after blocking him weeks ago.

Jungkook just stares at the screen until it fades to black, his own reflection looking back at him until he lights it up once more to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. His finger swipes the screen to unlock it, checking the notification and seeing that you had in fact unblocked him and refollowed him, your grid of photos filling up the screen in a way they weren’t before.

He was at a loss of what to do, just staring at your profile, the blue follow button taunting him, begging to be pressed, pleading for him to once again get sucked under your spell.

You must be watching your notifications, waiting to see any new activity on your page because the second Jungkook follows you back you’re shooting him a text faster than he can blink, not being able to take back what he did before his phone is buzzing with a message.

Jungkook is faced with a realization at this, he was in fact very weak.

His brain works on its own accord, opening up your thread of messages and seeing the new one sitting nice and pretty in the bottom left corner.

y/n 10:48pm : hey kookie, you busy?

He eyes the message for a few minutes, not knowing what to respond with. Was he busy? Technically if you considered a netflix binge to be important. But that stupid voice in the back of his head, the one that sent him to your beck and call speaks up, loud and clear, yelling at him to text back and say he always had time for you.

jungkook 10:53pm : oh hey, no whats up!

jungkook 10:53pm : *?

The three dots of you typing pop up instantly only giving him seconds to prepare before your message swoops in.

y/n 10:53pm : wanna come over? i’ll make it worth your while

Suggestive emojis finish off the message and he wants to slap himself when his dick stirs to life at the thought of what you’d do to make it worth it after the hell you’ve put him through recently.

It’s just lust. That’s all this is, thats the only reason he send you a text saying he was on his way so fast theres a typo in it, getting to your apartment faster than he ever has.

When you swing the door open you shock him when you wrap your arms around him and pull him in for a kiss, its messy, mostly tongue and teeth as you tug at the hair along the nape of his neck in desperation.

It takes Jungkook a minute to react to it, you were kissing him, something you’d never allowed him to do during sex. He wonders what this meant, a small bite to his lip being what snaps him out of it and forces him into action.

His large hands wrap around your waist, tugging you closer to him before he hauls you up, getting you to hook your legs on his hips as he blindly guides you towards your bedroom, a route he knows very well.

“You got here fast.” You breathe out as you pull away, laughing when he chases after your lips, getting a taste of the way they feel during the heat of the moment he wanted more of it, wanted to swallow down your moans in ways he’s never been able to before.

“You told me you’d make it worth my while.” He plays it off, latches his lips onto your neck as he throws your bedroom door open, walking the both of you towards your bed and letting you flop down onto it.

“Did you miss me.” You tease, an evil glint in your eye as you kneel on the bed, your hands resting on his shoulders while you stare at him like the innocent angel you aren’t.

“You blocked me.” He huffs, allowing you to slide his shirt off even though he was still upset about that, tossing it behind you without a care. You move onto your own shirt, an oversized grey shirt that belongs to Namjoon but you’d never tell Jungkook that, either way his attention lands on your exposed tits, the shirt and who it belongs to not even crossing his mind now that he had an eyeful of your pert chest.

“No I didn’t.” You lie so effortlessly, having the motions down to a science. The tilt of your head, the squinting of your eyes that painted an image of you not knowing what he was talking about. The slight lift in your tone in what he mistakes as genuine confusion is what starts the swirls of doubt in his brain. You knew though, you knew very well that you had indeed blocked him.

“Yeah you did.” He pushes, trying to lean in to kiss you again but you seemed to be over that, the initial neediness you felt leaving you and he feels the sting he hadn’t felt in a long time. Jungkook pushes it away and chooses to let his mouth kiss your jaw and begin sucking on your neck once more.

“Hm, no I didn’t Kookie.” Your voice sounds so sure, so confident that it has him second guessing himself. Had you really blocked him or had he just gotten it mixed up?

His lips pause on your skin from his inner debate and you know you need to move this along before he questions you further, pulls out a screenshot of him clearly being blocked with no chance of deniability.

“Let me make this worth your while like I said, that sound good?” You ask, smiling when he nods against your skin, the topic of whether or not you blocked him leaving his mind, destined to come back again once he’s at home laying in bed and having a crisis.

Jungkook’s mind short circuits when you reach for his pants, your hands palming the growing bulge contained in them, begging to be taken care of because it’s been so long.

“Yeah, yeah okay.” He stutters out, letting himself get moved around until he was sat on the edge of your bed while you hopped off. Jungkook takes it upon himself to yank his jeans off, his hunger for you taking over, wanting to move this forward until you were sinking down on his cock, the pleasure clouding his common sense. He needed that because he was having an inner debate on if this was a good idea or not.

You fall to your knees it front of him after shimmying out of your shorts, a surprising turn of events that he doesn’t see coming judging by the look on his face. That same teasing laugh is sent his way as you tug at his black briefs, his hips lifting off the bed to slip them off, his cock springing free and he sighs at no longer being confined.

You lick your lips over as you stare at his cock, the thickness of it making your mouth water as you trace the pretty veins wrapped around it with your eyes, leading up to his red tip, leaking beads of precum.

Jungkook groans when you wrap your hand around his length, the second you texted him he was half hard, aching and needy for release of any kind. He swears he could cum then and there when you noisily spit into your other palm, gliding it up his length to spread the wetness around and starting a slow rhythm.

“Feel good?” You ask innocently, faux sweetness he knows far too well dripping from your tongue, thick like syrup and he finds himself wanting to lap it up.

Jungkook knows you’re getting a kick out of it, watching the way you’re biting on your lip and smiling when his face screws up at being touched, the slow pumping of your hands only teasing him and pushing his head further under the stream of pleasure

“Shit, yeah.” He mumbles out, his stomach hiccuping when you lean forward and let a glob of spit land on the head of his cock, the way it drips down his length and pools at your hands as you continue your motion only serves to send Jungkook deeper into a frenzy.

It’s not until you finally take him into your mouth, slow and gentle as if you didn’t like to deep throat his cock until you’re choking, that Jungkook lets a moan finally slip through the gates of his teeth. It urges you on, the first rock being thrown at his glass exterior, a tiny sliver of a crack exposing itself and giving you a way in again.

Jungkook forgets how to breathe for a minute, his mouth slack jawed as he watches in awe at the way you sink your mouth further onto his length. Your pretty lips pulled tightly around his girth, your cheeks hollowing up as you suck your way back up with a noisy slurp.

“So good.” He groans out, his hand creeping its way around you until he had a fistful of your hair in his grip. Jungkook smiles now when you go lax in his hands, your mouth widening up when he starts to push your head down, his cock nudging along your throat and making you gag, muscles spasming around him but he doesn’t relent until your nose is nuzzled along the small patch of hair around the base of his cock.

He sighs out, feeling as if the balance of everything had been restored now that you were kneeling pliant between his legs, mouth stuffed with cock, not being able to fuck with his mind with your sweet sounding lies and convincing eyes.

When he finally pulls you off of him you gasp in a breath, wet and stuck to your throat, your eyes watering up from being choked but the arousal dripping down your thighs showed how much you loved it. Jungkook pouts at you, a clear sense of mockery in it and it makes you want to laugh at how the tables turned. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb smearing the drool around your mouth and making a bigger mess of it all.

“What, thats it?” He taunts, his eyebrow raising up as you roll your lips together, “You choke on my dick and forget how to make this worth my while?”

His words make you squeeze your thighs together, seeking any sort of friction to ease the pressure building in your core. You loved when Jungkook got like this, flipped a switch in the middle of it and bossed you around, it was the main reason you enjoyed pushing his buttons, wanting to get him to the point where he’d do it back to you.

“No.” You rasp out, your head lolling to the side as your tongue glides along your lips, visions of tied up cherry stems and sharp words trailing behind it.

“Show me then.” He orders, thighs spreading further apart as his hand gestures for you to get to it, for you to show him exactly why you called him over.

As you sink back onto his cock, he wonders if the reason you invited him today was because one of your boy toys had flaked on you, left you high and dry and you needed a fix like you always did. Another part of him wonders if you finally messaged him to keep him close, to not let him stray too far away from you, leave him open and available for you whenever you decided he was needed.

Jungkook seemed to be getting the good end of this deal right now, whatever it may be so he rides it through, letting grunts of pleasure slip through the seam of his lips when you find the right pace. Your hands word in tandem with your mouth, twisting and pumping in unison.

He begins rocking his hips up towards your face, a crooked smile on his face at the mess you’re making on his cock, he likes it too much. The wet thump of your fist pumping down, the way you slurp on his length like it was that damn popsicle you used to taunt him with.

“So fucking dirty.” Jungkook’s voice is husky now, drawn out while he lets himself get lost in it all, heavy with the lust clouding his brain. His words just encourage you, working past the aching feeling in your jaw as you try your best, needing a distraction from the night you’ve had and thats what Jungkook was best for.

The simmering warmth he feels growing in his gut starts to boil over when you grasp one of his balls, your fingers fondling them in a teasing motion before you switch off and latch your mouth around them instead.

Jungkook can only curse under his breath, his fingers weaving through your hair once more and tugging at the strands, feeling you moan against his skin at the sting on pain at your scalp.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum–“ Jungkook warns, trying to pull you away from him but you stay put, your hands continuing the motions your mouth was no longer doing, “Don’t you want me to fuck you?” He wonders, if he came now you’d have to wait a while before he was ready to go again and he knew you weren’t the most patient person.

“No, wanna make you feel good.” Is all you mumble out before slipping his length back into your mouth. The warmth that envelops his cock has him groaning out once more, his mouth dropped open as his chest heaved at the oncoming orgasm.

“Ah,” he whines when you sink all the way down until your nose nuzzles against his skin, “where do you want me to cum?”

It’s breathless and needy, making you pop off of him with a sultry smile, “My face.”

Jungkook nods, half delirious as he stands up on his weakening legs and fists his cock, the spit lathered on it helping him glide as fast as he needed to. The way you’re sat in front of him, your palms pressed to your thighs, mouth wide open with your tongue sticking out and your eyes locked onto him, sends his mind reeling.

The angry tip of his cock peaks out with every pump of his fist, only needing a few more flicks of his wrist before his stomach was caving in and flexing as he came.

Jungkook lets out strangled moan, thick ropes of cum streaming out and landing in globs on your face in short spurts. Your eyes fluttering shut when you feel it land on your cheek, your nose, and dripping down onto your awaiting tongue.

He’s panting above you as he comes down, his hand raking through his own hair as he tries to calm his breathing down, the tingling feeling spread throughout his body dulling down. When your eyes blink up at him, he can just tell you’re up to something when you stick your tongue back in your mouth and swallow, an evil smirk spreading across your cum streaked face.

“Here let me grab you a towel.” He starts to move towards your bathroom but your palm reaches out to grab his thigh, stopping him in his tracks.

“No, do me a favor.” You ask him in that tone that made him shiver, your hand pointing at your desk, right at the white polaroid camera you had propped on top of it. Jungkook doesn’t know what you’re planning but he reaches for it anyways, handing you the device only to have you thrust it back in his hands.

“Take a photo of me.” You say it so sweetly, like you’re asking him to take a photo of you smiling with flowers in your hair.

Jungkook’s face twists up in confusion. You wanted a photo of yourself covered in his cum. You were definitely planning something and it was clear now that Jungkook was an accessory to all of this.

Still he nods and points the camera down at you, begging his slowly softening dick to not spur back to life at the face you give him. Your hair’s messy from his hands yanking at it, your eyes wide and innocent as you scoop some of the cum off your cheek and pop it into your mouth for the photo.

The flash goes off and you hum around your digit, slipping it out of your mouth as Jungkook grabs the exiting photo from the top of the camera.

He sets it all down and is ready to go about the routine the way you always did but you stop him once more, “Wait, take another one.”

And like clockwork Jungkook obeys, the hex you had on him controlling his motions until he has the camera in his grasp a second time. He presses it against his eye and looks down at you, a strained gasp leaving him when you grab his sensitive cock and let the tip of it slip into your mouth.

His fingers press on the shutter button immediately, capturing the moment on a little rectangle of film, the flash filling the room. When he goes to hand it to you all you do is shake your head and stand up on your sore legs.

“Keep it.” You shrug, pulling your hair up into a pony tail and reaching for the other photo on your bed sheets.

“I don’t think your boyfriend would like that.” It slips out without warning, an unknowing jab sent your way and Jungkook’s eyes widen at the words he just said as he steps into his jeans after slipping his underwear back on.

You freeze as well, the grey shirt that belonged to the man he was talking about feeling heavy on your frame. “You mean Namjoon?” You question, not an ounce of shame in your words, knowing very well that Jungkook had spotted you out with him a few weeks ago.

The name feels bitter on your tongue, trying your best not to let your distaste show on your face as you stare at him. Jungkook didn’t need to know that Namjoon had called it quits with you, the sneaking suspicion that you were messing around with someone else being too strong. It was the main reason you blocked Jungkook on instagram, he had become prime suspect number one thanks to the way he bombarded your photos.

You needed to keep your distance from Jungkook in order to keep your relationship with Namjoon afloat, at least in the beginning, then you could go back to your routine. But Namjoon was too observant, and all it took was finding a pair of underwear that didn’t belong to him slipped under your bed for the mirage to come crumbling down around you.

It angered you more because you had been careful, stopped sleeping around, but because Jungkook had left a pair of underwear weeks ago in his haste to leave it became a chain reaction the lead to Namjoon slamming the door behind him as he left your place a while before Jungkook stumbled his way through.

That was too much information to tell Jungkook, you didn’t want to give him the impression that you searched for his comfort in the form of physical touch after your boyfriend left you. You didn’t need him to know that he was the only constant in your life, slot in between every failed relationship, maintaining his spot as the one you called to when you needed a distraction.

Jungkook’s eyes narrow at the name, remembering the flashing ‘joonie’ on your phone screen. He only gives you a nod in response, his confusion deepening when you laugh.

“He’s just a friend.” You lie through your teeth, setting the photo you knew you’d be sending him later onto your desk, grabbing a small towel you had and wiping your face clean with it.

Jungkook doesn’t fully believe you but he doesn’t fight it, choosing to finish getting dressed in silence. If he was just a friend and was able to get you to go out on a date with him that what were Jungkook’s chances? What were the odds that his own name wasn’t some cute version of ‘kookie’ with an obscene amount of hearts at the end of it?

That was all wishful thinking though, he knew deep down that his name was just a plain and simple Jungkook, he knew the minute he’d ask you to go have lunch you’d ghost him like you did before.

You watch him curiously as he puts his shoes on, seeing the way his mind was working on overdrive, overthinking everything and talking himself into circles. You needed him to stay close, to not let him get a taste of what life would be like without you so you approach him with that same saccharine smile.

“Thanks Kookie.” You whisper out, cupping his cheek and leaning up on your toes to press a gentle kiss goodbye on his lips. He kisses back instantly, needing to feel more, wanting to wrap his arms around you like he did earlier but that was gone now and you were stepping back too quickly.

A small yawn escapes your lips and he gets the hint, stuffing the dirty polaroid into his jean pocket and giving you a half smile, “Yeah of course, I’ll see you later Y/N.”

You flop onto your bed and wave at him as he exits your room but once the door shuts behind him you flip onto your stomach and groan loudly into your pillow, unaware that Jungkook could still hear you from his spot in the hallway.

He decides not to open the door back up and check on you, making a swift exit and rushing to get into his car like he was running from something. And in a way he was.

Now that he’s confined inside his vehicle he slips the photo out of his pocket, turning the overhead lighting on to look at it properly now that it was developed.

Your eyes were half lidded as you stared into the camera, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock while the tip of it prodded at your cheek, face covered in ribbons of his cum. It was the most explicit photo he’d ever had and he can’t even let himself get excited over it. Instead he opens up his center divider and stuffs the photo into there before slamming it shut.

He pulls out of his parking spot and takes off back home, that hollow feeling in his chest returning when he remembers the words you told him today. He knows you were lying to him, Jungkook wasn’t stupid, but he just doesn’t understand what he did for you to constantly treat him this way.

He feels the stinging at the back of his eyes, the streetlights becoming blurry at the edges as his vision got misty. An idea pops into his head so he pulls over onto a random corner, blinking away the tears before they could fall as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He knew what he had to do, for his own sanity.

You two weren’t right for each other, he was tired of being this puppet on strings for you to play with until you got bored and moved on to the next shiny new thing. Jungkook was sick of dreaming about taking you out, sick of wondering what lies you’d tell him next because you knew he was wrapped so tightly around your finger that he could never fight you on it.

So he opens up instagram and goes to your page instantly, not letting himself think twice before he’s clicking on the block button, locking his phone and throwing it on the passenger seat before resuming his drive home, begging himself not to succumb to you once again.

And as you sit on your bed at home, scrolling through instagram and taking a peek at his page, knowing he usually posted an instagram story of whatever song he was listening to after leaving your apartment, you’re shocked to see the same words that haunted Jungkook for weeks.

No posts yet.

He had blocked you. For the first time in the years you’ve been fooling around you finally get a taste of the way you’ve been treating him. And as you sit in bed having the same dilemma he had before, wondering what you did or said, debating sending him a text, you feel the first twist in your heart that Jungkook had grown accustomed to and you don’t like it.

#ficswithluv #goldenclosetnet #btsghostie #btswritingcafe #yoonkooknetwork #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook #bts smut #new

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hellroots · 4 years ago

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『 MOBILE FRIENDLY RULES 』

— here you will find my rules or can also find them on my gdocs as well once i’m done with it. please like this if you read it, but otherwise don’t interact with this post, thank you. rest assured that i always read my moots rules before following and that i fully expect the same courtesy. i tried not to let them get too long but feel free to ask me anything you wanna know about them if it’s not clear ok?

『 THE MUN』

NOXTROMUN, THEY/THEM, 21+, BRAZILIAN

shy but friendly ! i don't follow for follow, if i follow you that means i've read your rules and want to write with you. i have no triggers nor squicks of my own except drama in the dash, for that reason i do not engage in callouts/witch hunts and if you do it on a constant basis i might have to hard block you for my own peace of mind. although i may come off too strong/harsh, i am always up to talking things out privately. as long as you are civil, so am i. any form of hate will be deleted and blocked - sometimes mocked, if i’m feeling cocky…

『 THE BLOG』

HELLROOTS, INDIE ( POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING AND NOT MINOR FRIENDLY ), HIGHLY SELECTIVE & PRIVATE MULTIFANDOM MULTIMUSE

primarily run on a low activity \ effort and with a slow speed.. my muselist changes a lot, depends a lot on what i’m watching lately so bear with me please. this is a drama free zone, therefore do realise that mun ≠ muses and (obviously) writing ≠ condoning !! as a quick note, do keep in mind that my blog is my safe space, just as your blog is yours - you are responsible for your own internet experience just as i am responsible for mine. should anything in my blog annoy/trigger/squick you, i strongly encourage you to block me & not write with me - your mental health is far more important ( for me, and hopefully for you as well ) than rp. on that note, please do not softblock me - that’s annoying, just hardblock please.

『 THE TRIGGERS』

TRIGGER HEAVY, PROPERLY TAGGED AND TAKING NO CRAP

i usually tend to write for trigger heavy fandoms (such as asoiaf, kingdom and others) and may incorporate some of it into my writing, muses' backgrounds and overall characterization. if you're bothered \ squicked \ triggered by that, i kindly encourage you to reconsider and not follow me. no amount of rp fun is worth your mental health. i try to tag everything accordingly and i fully expect the same courtesy for our followers' sakes. be aware that there may be mentions of death, gore, violence, consanguinamory \ endogamy (especially when it comes to the lannisters and kekkei genkai clans), rape ( kingdom, though it will only be mentioned on the character’s backstory ) and cannibalism ( hannibal and kingdom ) , as well as unhealthy relationships and dynamics alongside with powerplay, and otherwise bad behaviours. for all that is sacred, please, do note that i, the mun, do not approve, support or condone any of these actions or behaviours !! i simply am capable of separating fiction from reality. as long as everything is properly tagged, with mutual consent and there are no minors involved (muse and especially not muns), . i support the right of a consenting adult to explore these awful dark topics in a safe fictional environment with other like minded consenting adults, people shouldn’t have to share their traumas to strangers on the internet to explain why they write what they write, be considerate. if that notion bothers you perhaps you might not want to interact with me, for both of ours sakes. fair warning, most of my graphics and aesthetics might trigger those who have xylophobia/hylophobia (phobia of trees or wooded areas), and considering it is a main theme here i will not be tagging it, i'm sorry. but its too many. however, if you want me to create a special tag for you, there's no issue! it will be either "[your mun name] don't look!" or "[your url] don't look!", whichever you prefer. QUICK EDIT/ADDITION: i do not believe that aging up fictional characters is inherently a bad thing - from what i understand, the whole appeal of aging up a character is that while you like their personality but you do not want them to be kids (for whatever reason) but insteasd adults. if you are one of those who think that aging up a character is automatically something bad (without even knowing why it was done in the first place) don’t bother following me because i do think that opinion is quite silly.

『 THE INTERACTIONS』

OC, DUPLICATE, MULTIMUSE AND CANON DIVERGENT FRIENDLY

my tagging system is simple, i tag triggers as "tw; x" and . images that may be sensitive or triggering as "cw; x". you can further see how my tags work by taking a look at my tag dump post, just search ‘tag dump’ on my blog and you will find the most recent one i’m using. i shitpost and talk oocly on the dash constantly but you can easily blacklist my tag if it bothers you. here's something you should know about me: when i'm doing drafts i usually don't feel like chatting much, so please do not spam me because i won't be able to reply, i love to talk with my moots but sometimes it overwhelms me. on that note, please don't pester me for replies ic or ooc, i am slow and chances are that if you try to guilt trip me or just nag me about it i'll leave as the ones i'll get to in the later end on purpose, just out of spite. yes, i be like that. please be patient - i’ll never pressure you and expect the same in return. plotting wise: i prefer to just wing it with just a faint idea of where to take the thread but honestly i'm cool with anything. please be considerate when formatting your replies, i have a bad eyesight & if i can't read it, i won't bother with it. my own formatting is simple and clean. on a smaller note, please bear with me and my muses as my muses ramble a lot but you don't have to match the length, just give me something to work with. if we write together, the chances of me making edits/tagging you in stuff are really big, just lmk if you don’t like that though !

『 THE FLEET』

MOSTLY BI/PAN MUSES, MULTISHIP AND MULTIVERSE, SMUT FRIENDLY

i love shipping but i like my ships to be devices to move the plot/dynamics/muses forward, every once in a while though i partake in some much loved self indulgent shipping. just because i ship a certain pairing don't presume that my characters are approaching yours with second intentions, please. most of the time i like to reblog those relationship memes, so if you’re interested in a ship the best way (other than sending me a message ofc) to let me know is by sending ones. there will be some triggering ships here ( like the lannisters, both cersei x jaime and joanna x tywin are my otps, and potential inter clan ships, like with the hyugas - i mean how the hell you think they keep the byakugan in their family?? ) that may either be played with trusted friends or be mentioned/reblogged sometimes, all properly tagged so you can easily blocklist/avoid it. most of my muses are either bi or pan, those who are not will be specified. don't be afraid to reach out to me for shipping right off the bat - i'd rather have you to be open and honest with me about the interactions you want than lying to me, just know that there will be needed some plotting and threading first to see if your muses match. as an adult, my blog is smut friendly, i partake in sexual sunday a lot because some of my muses are very lewd in nature, you can blacklist my tag if that bothers you as well.

『 THE FINAL NOTES』

GENERAL RP ETIQUETTE APPLIES, CREDITS, THANK YOU FOR READING MY RULES

lastly but not least, general rp etiquette applies on my blog: no godmodding, forced ships, etc. there’s only ONE thing that truly makes me go apeshit crazy, and it’s when people don’t read my rules. i ALWAYS find out and it’s not pretty; i block it like it’s hot, ♪ ♫ ♬ block it like it’s hot ♪ ♫ ♬. i strongly assure you that i always read your rules before both following you and also before sending memes, just in case. on a much smaller note, i’m not so hot on single shipping and i really feel weirded out about people forcing me to pic who i’m going to interact with due to theirs DNI’s. while i get DNI’s when it comes to actual predators, when it’s something seemingly random chances are that i’ll softblock you because it weirds me out how volatile some can be when it comes to a hobby. i have some trigger heavy hcs ( for example, the one about jiraiya’s hypersexuality being rooted in trauma that he suffered at a young age ) that i share with only a few muns that are closer with me, so i’ll be mentioning them every once in a while but won’t share them, please don’t insist. i don’t really like most of the main characters of the franchises i write for, and when it comes to certain characters i reserve the right to decline an rp for my own comfort. for further info on what i use to make my graphics please check my “CREDITS.” tag. most of my stuff is made by me, i’ve got a lowkey rph in case you wanna check it out it’s @brazucahelps, however if you want a custom content i can see if i get a free time to come up with something :D

IF YOU READ THIS FAR, THANK YOU SO MUCH — JUST ONE LAST THING, COULD YOU PLS LIKE THIS SO I KNOW YOU’VE READ IT? <3 THANKS!

#RULES.

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raitrolling · 5 years ago

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Open Quadrants: Secondary Trolls Edition (Part 1)

just like the first masterpost i made for my main trolls, this is meant to be a starting off point for anyone who may be interested in shipping with my trolls, only for my secondary characters (obviously lmao). these trolls i tend to have less muse for than my main trolls, or they might have an inconsistent muse and i can only write so much rp for them at a time

like i said in the previous post, i only plot and reserve quadrants for friends + rp partners who ive done a couple threads with already so i feel comfortable interacting w. them ooc, but if we are friends/rp partners and u have an idea for a ship lmk!

and given how many secondary trolls i have, im splitting this up between two posts. this post will cover liiore-somerl, and part 2 will cover amarys-fleure

other posts: main trolls | secondary trolls (part 2)

Liiore - 10.5 sweeps / ~22 years, Male, Demi Bi (Female preference)

♥ - Liiore isn’t very outgoing or adventurous, so while he might like someone with that sort of personality he wouldn’t really want to go on a lot of wild dates or anything. He prefers to stay at home as much as possible, so someone who likes quiet nights in would be perfect. He doesn’t have many other preferences other than the standard ‘someone who is nice’ ideal, but he would like someone who is also interested in video games so he’d have someone to play 2P Stardew Valley or Animal Crossing with. Or an MMO partner who doesn’t mind him preferring to do all the sidequests over the actual battling and levelling up stuff. He has a huge weakness for cute girls.

♦ - While Liiore may have a good reason to want to avoid the public, he’s still quite the shy shut-in. A moirail would probably help him get over some of his anxieties about being out in public, even if it is just to offer a hand for him to hold onto if he gets nervous. There is a confident side to him, as he was very good at acting confident during his time as Ocean Star, but he thinks it was all just an act to get through all the scary things about being a celebrity. It would take some convincing, but he could possibly learn to believe that just because he was acting doesn’t mean he’s incapable of doing it again but for real this time.

♠ - Getting into a kismesitude with Liiore is almost an impossible task, seeing as he doesn’t have a single hateful bone in his body. He’s more likely to get upset if someone was mean to him, and definitely wouldn’t be able to say anything mean back. The closest thing to a blackrom relationship would probably be one that’s very pale-tinted, someone trying to help Liiore get out of his shell or toughen him up a bit but may be a little more forceful than what he’d like.

Dismas - 11 sweeps / ~23 years, Male, Pan

♥ - Taken by @/cloudbattrolls’ Maidel

♦ - Dismas doesn’t need a moirail, and he’s not interested in being anyone’s moirail, so this quadrant isn’t a high priority for him. The only thing he’d really need out of a pale relationship is someone who can rein in his edgy persona and be a bit more upfront with others, or can maybe convince him to stop doing dangerous stunts all in the name of information gathering. Things like not deliberately provoking highbloods or threatening to blackmail trolls for little reasons other than his own excitement, so someone with a good head on their shoulders would be preferable. And while Dismas won’t be honest with his affections, he’ll always support you from the shadows.

♠ - Two words: Mind games. If you can keep up with Dismas’ love for them and enjoy everything turning into a game of 4D chess, you’re good to go. Honestly, this quadrant isn’t much different to his red quad, other than you’d obviously see even less of his soft side (which is hidden behind seven proxies like every other thing about him). He’d only be interested in a quadrant if he considers you to be his intellectual equal, otherwise he’d just mess with you for fun. He wants to be challenged, and really wants there to be some sort of secret he can crack. He’d probably get along best with criminals of some sort for this quadrant, given that he works on the other side of the law.

Aislin - 10 sweeps / ~21 years, Female, Bi (Male preference)

♥ - While Aislin tends to fall for trolls fairly quickly, she doesn’t really know what exactly she wants in a matesprit. Obviously someone who is sweet and kind towards her, but that’s kind of a given for such a relationship, isn’t it? She’ll develop crushes on trolls who give her even the slightest amount of positive attention, but she’s careful to make sure her bad boy anime crushes aren’t real bad boys. She’s not going to want to be around someone who is genuinely cruel, and Dismas will also make sure no one tries to garm her.

♦ - Aislin is shy. Very shy. So shy that she’s willing to pretend to be mute than figure out how to deal with her crippling social anxiety that often renders her unable to speak in front of others. Which is something she feels bad lying about, but having to reveal that she is lying is even more terrifying. Someone who’d help her become more confident and find ways to manage her anxiety would be the obvious choice for a moirail, and in return she’ll do her best to help them with whatever troubles them. She has a soft spot for bad boys.

♠ - Aislin isn’t actively seeking a kismesis, but the thought has crossed her mind that she’ll have to get one eventually. Though, she doesn’t really know what she wants and is somewhat scared of the quadrant because it has the biggest potential to go bad. A more rival-type kismesis would suit her well, such as another hacker or a friendly criminal who keeps evading her psiionics.

Eichio - 10 sweeps / ~21 years, Male, Pan

♥ - Eichio has literally no standards for a matespritship other than ‘anyone who wants to be in a quadrant with him’. This is because his self-worth is downright nonexistent and if someone needs to be in a relationship to be happy, then he’ll do it for them. Obviously, this is no grounds for a healthy relationship, and while Eichio is aware that he could easily get in trouble, he thinks it’d be his job to ‘fix’ it and not the other troll’s fault. For Eichio’s sake, someone who will actually treat him like a proper troll and wants to make the relationship work would be a must. He’ll do anything for you, but don’t take advantage of it. Ideally, they’d also be someone who’d want to help Eichio with his own problems, even if it’s as small as letting him rest from time to time, or making him more aware that he does matter as an actual living person.

♦ - A paleship with Eichio is, honestly, a doozy. Eichio is inclined to do everything he can to help everyone and be a ‘good person’, and even more so for a moirail. He’d be perfectly willing to throw his own life away to ensure his moirail is always happy and has no issues to be concerned about, which is obviously a very unhealthy mindset to have. A moirail for Eichio would need to address this and remind Eichio that he is his own person who is worth more than what he can do for others. Similarly, Eichio has a lot of bottled-up issues about expressing negativity, believing that being upset or even angry at others makes him a bad person, and the worst thing he could do is to inconvenience someone with his own emotions. He’d be perfectly happy if the moirallegiance was one-sided so he would have to confront his own feelings, which makes it all the more crucial for his moirail to help him just as much as he wants to help them.

♠ - Plotting / Taken?? w. @/trolloled

Benrii - 12 sweeps / ~25 years, Male, Pan

♥ - Benrii believes in love at first sight, regardless of if it’s reciprocated. If he falls in love with someone, it must be fate! (This applies to all quadrants, not just his matesprit) He doesn’t really know exactly what he wants in a matesprit, other than he knows exactly who when he sees them. He’d most likely get along with someone with similar interests in fate and the supernatural as him, but also understands that he’ll never see them as his equal. There’s only room for one person at the top, but maybe he’ll spare his second-in-command from his divine justice.

♦ - A moirail would be the most difficult quadrant to get with Benrii, as he is convinced he doesn’t need one. Though, once you get past all his bravado and self-centeredness, it becomes a bit more clear that most of his attitude is just a coping mechanism. He craves all the attention he can get, and really all he wants is to feel special. As long as you can validate his feelings in a way that isn’t as destructive as him blowing everything up for attention and to take out all the stronger competition so he can stand at the top, you might be able to persuade him to seek other means of tackling his abandonment issues.

♠ - Benrii easily gets irritated by people who don’t validate his beliefs, especially if they have a similar interest in things like fortune telling and astrology. He hates people who make a mockery out of fate, whether it’s someone who uses fortunes to avoid any bad hands they’ve been dealt, and tries to change their destinies in whatever way. He also hates scam artists and fake fortune tellers who use the powerful forces of fate like a joke, either because they don’t understand the things Benrii does, or they think it’s funny to play with tarot cards like toys. But once you’ve earned Benrii’s wrath, it’s difficult to get him to leave you alone.

Soroll - 11 sweeps / ~23 years, Male, Bi

♥ - Soroll’s really chill and can get along well with basically anyone. He can be a bit oblivious to romantic intentions, and tends to assume that people are just being their normal level of friendliness towards them. Whoever ends up charming him in a flushed way would have to be okay with dumpster diving and potentially getting food poisoning from him cooking up whatever scraps he found in the trash. So, an open mind and an iron stomach is probably necessary. There’s also Soroll’s entanglement with the Red Scarves that will be a major issue, but unlike Mikiel, Soroll is more open to relationships despite his position. He figures he keeps his head down enough that his friends and quadrants won’t be put in danger. He’d probably prefer if any dates were kept to quiet nights in for the sake of not getting noticed by other gang members, though.

♦ - Soroll feels naturally inclined to help others in need, so this relationship will come pretty easily to him. He seems to be drawn towards trolls who don’t take care of themselves properly, which makes him prime moirail material. Someone who needs a doctor-in-training to look after them if they get into any physical scraps or struggle with self-care tasks would benefit from a moirallegiance with Soroll, and since Soroll doesn’t need anyone to look out for him in return he’d even be fine if the relationship ended up being one-sided. He just wants to try his best and do what he can to help.

♠ - I genuinely have no clue if this quadrant would even work, and Soroll doesn’t know either. He’s not the type to hate anyone, either platonically or romantically, and the only hatred that’s been directed at him are those who get annoyed by him digging through their garbage. He’s too chill to have a rivalry with anyone either, and would rather work together with someone who shared his interests than compete with them. If anything, it’d be a one-sided relationship with Soroll being mostly oblivious to the other trolls’ interest in him.

Callan - 11 sweeps / ~23 years, Male, Pan

♥ - Callan wants a hot highblood he can brag about dating. But in all honesty, he’ll get attached to anyone who is nice and doesn’t forget who he is every time they meet. As much as he’d love a matesprit, his psiionics are a big drawback that makes him somewhat afraid of the quadrant. He’s quick to befriend and get attached to people he likes, but very difficult to coax into making relationships official. Other than that, he tends to mesh better with trolls with the opposing personality, typically more serious and even-tempered who don’t mind his attitude and weird remarks.

♦ - Taken by @/trolloled’s Gerrel

♠ - Taken by @/scrambledtrolls’s Izuili

Somerl - 11 sweeps / ~23 years, Male, Bi (Male preference)

♥ - Somerl is married to the sea. By that, I mean that he will always prioritise sailing above all else, including quadrants. Anyone interested in becoming his matesprit will have to accept the fact that he will be gone for perigees at a time, often without any contact, and you will never be able to get him to settle down. He’s uninterested in seeking out a matesprit because of both past experiences in his previous relationship and because he doesn’t want to be tied down by anyone or anything. That being said, the possibility of him falling for someone isn’t impossible, but they’d have to be really special for him to consider no longer sailing solo. Seadwellers need not apply.

♦ - Somerl needs a moirail pretty badly. Somerl would also make a terrible moirail. His main solution to dealing with any issue is to just avoid it, and he hates being told what to do even if it’s advice that’d benefit him. He doesn’t like to feel grounded to one location either, so his moirail would have to be okay with him traveling constantly and only visiting once every couple of perigees (if he remembers to). This inability to take responsibility is something that he needs a moirail to address, but he’s not going to like it. Neither is he going to like having someone try to fix his sleeping issues, even if it would help him a lot. If your troll is a very low maintenance person and doesn’t mind their affections being mostly one-sided, this is a quadrant for them.

♠ - Somerl doesn’t feel like he overly needs a kismesis, but might appreciate the change of pace a rivalry could have. He’d prefer a less serious relationship so that he doesn’t have to compromise his nomadic lifestyle, and definitely cannot stand anyone who is the slightest bit clingy. That being said, perhaps someone who can get him to stick around in one place longer than a couple nights might end up being good for him.

#ooc #masterpost #liiore dariya #dismas teufel #aislin cudovi #eichio maccau #quidel benrii #soroll delfim #callan ranpoe #somerl alfero

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wingedquill · 5 years ago

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Fic writer meme! I was tagged by @bygodstillam, thank you! :D

AO3 name: WingedQuill

Fandoms: The Witcher, Star Trek (The new movies)

Number of fics: 5

Fic I spent the most time on: Um, years-wise it would have to be Green. It took 3 and a half years to finish because I’m a horrible person who posts WIPs and the last few chapters were left to the wayside when my life got crazy at the start of college. Time-spent-writing wise it would be Juniper Berries

Fic I spent the least time on: At the moment, probably Twenty Years Redone? That one is really easy to write because it’s super emotional/panicky and very close to Jaskier’s head, so the words just come pouring out.

Longest fic: Juniper Berries, currently at 34,908. From what I’ve planned out, it’s definitely gonna get up to at least 40K because I’m ridiculous. I try to write short stuff and it just doesn’t happen :/

Shortest fic: (when you just can’t seem) to shake the weight of living is currently sitting at 4297, but it will probably wind up somewhere around 18-20K by the time it’s done because again, I am ridiculous.

Most hits: Green at—13,801?? Wow I didn’t know it had that many.

Most kudos: Also Green, at 966

Most comment threads: Juniper Berries at 414, because the Witcher fandom is amazing and very chatty <3 y’all

Most bookmarks: Also also Green, at 354

Total word count: 86086 (which is a very satisfying number to type)

Favourite fic I wrote: Oh that’s tricky. I really really love writing in the Juniper verse, and Juniper Berries has become very near and dear to my heart. The Ciri POV is fun to work with and I like writing the whole “traumatized characters work to help each other heal and grow” narrative. But I actually think my fave fic so far has been the soul knows the rest which was my first fic in the Witcher fandom. It’s a lil daemon AU two-shot and I got to play around with the writing style quite a bit, especially in the second chapter. And I love the ending.

Fic you want to rewrite/expand on: I def want to spend a lot more time playing around in the Juniper Verse outside of Ciri’s POV—namely exploring the start of Geralt and Jaskier’s relationship and Geralt, Jaskier, and Yennefer’s early group-therapy days, since Ciri obviously didn’t see a lot of that. Geralt especially is going through a lot, mental-health wise, that he absolutely refuses to let Ciri see, so I’d like to explore that a little bit.

Share a bit of a WIP or a story idea you’re planning on: Aghhhh what to share that’s not a massive spoiler? I guess I can share a bit from a later chapter of the weight of living (for context: in this fic, Geralt is the victim of a lifelong mind control curse that keeps witchers from leaving the Path. It isn’t...great.)

He’s half asleep when he feels Yennefer stir beside him, nuzzling against his back. Her fingers trace cool lines across his skin and he wants to turn to face her, wants to catch her lips with his and drink her in. But he stays still as a corpse, like he always does at night, the curse trying to force his brain quiet and sleepy. Trying to get enough rest to fight monsters.

Her fingers move up, smoothing over his head.

“I wish you’d kept your hair long, my love,” she murmurs, soft as a bit of wind.

So do I.

She traces small circles over his temple, and this is the closest he’s ever felt to her. He wants to breathe out a sigh, soft and content, and he wants to curl up in her arms, and he wants to cry, and he wants, he wants, he wants—

He’s still.

And that’s it! I don’t really like to tag people in these games cause I know a decent number of people find them annoying (I don’t! Feel free to tag me in literally anything—can’t promise I’ll do it but I’ll definitely appreciate the thought). If you’d like to be tagged in these kinda posts, lmk and I’ll tag you in the future :D

#the witcher #fic writer tag game #bygodstillam #thanks for the tag friend!

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heathendolan · 6 years ago

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I Couldn’t Be More in Love [E.D]

Summary: Ethan’s not about cliches, he swears, but he has the feeling he might just die if he doesn’t tell you how he feels during your last senior prom slow dance.

Warnings: nothing but like I’m very sorry for the cheesy picture BUT LOOK HOW CUTE

Author’s Note: just a lil something I couldn’t get out of my head, it’s cheesy, it’s lame, it’s short, and it’s nothing special but my prom is next weekend and like c’mon how perfect would this be. just stopping by, hope you’re all doing fantastic!! love you all, and photo credits to popstyledolan (?? i’m not sure if this is instagram or twitter or tumblr, lmk if you guys know and i’ll add a link!!) ALSO like isn’t this song such a prom song I FEEL LIKE IT IS

Word Count: 2.6K+ || masterlist

Ethan had a gut full of fruit punch (spiked--thank you Casey Fraiser) and a head full of fuzz; what's a guy gotta do to get you for a slow dance?

He's slumped on the third row of the high school gymnasium's wooden, creaky bleachers, both hands threaded in the messy, over-gelled locks on his head, his foot tapping a mile a minute. And he should really be out there next to Grayson, whooping and hollering to the ancient Lil Jon song echoing out of the low budget DJ's rusted speakers, but he just can't stop thinking about you, okay? And this isn't new, and that's what's getting old.

He just wants one slow dance. Or two. Or three, or four, or ninety. It's the only time he gets the excuse to hold you close and make a fool of himself and not have to apologize once. He always does everything in his power to deprive the mood of romanticism, though.

Because this isn't the first or even the second dance he's spent beating himself up over you. No, this has become a tradition over the years; Ethan says something like, 'Hey, let's go together to the dance, just as friends, cause I don't want to waste my time begging some chick that's probably out of my league when I can take my best friend and have a way better time' (romantic, he knows), you guys suit up in your best homecoming, snowball, or prom attire, and spend the night together.

As just friends.

Ethan's made that super clear to you; Just Friends. Every single dance is Just Friends. And it's started to make less and less sense over the years, why he wouldn't go with Molly Kozial even though he'd been talking to her right up until promposals started getting popular again in March.

"Molly's a lot of work," he had said through a mouthful of fries, his feet kicked up on his dash in the parking lot of the McDonald's you guys went to all the time. "What's the good in going out, spending a shit ton of money on candy or whatever, getting all nervous to ask her, and having the drama of it the next day in school when I can just go with you? Easy as pie."

Right, you had thought. Cause I'm definitely not worth the time, or the candy, or the drama. Ethan had made that very clear by the eighth time he'd taken you to a dance.

It's not like you were going to bother yourself with the pain of his backhanded rejection; this was your senior prom. Just Friends is what you needed right before heading off to college--no need to invest yourself in some guy who'd inevitably break your heart by the end of summer.

"Yeah alright," you'd said, slurping a thick gulp of milkshake. "But I think I want to wear white this year and-"

"Nooo, everybody's going to say we're getting married," Ethan whined reflexively, his head flopping against his car seat and a pout on his lips.

"Deal with it," you shrugged. "That's what you get for your lack of, uh, chivalry?"

Ethan shot a glare your way. "Chivalry?" he asked through a bite of his cheeseburger. "I hav' pl'nty 'f chivalry."

"Right," you snorted, yanking the burger out of his hand and taking the biggest bite you could.

So you'd announced it oh-so-inanimately to your friend group at lunch the following day, ignored their pointed smirks and knowing glances, and searched for a prom dress worthy of your bank account. And it was fun! God, it was fun, it was always fun going with Ethan and your friends, but...

Well, but you wanted to feel wanted. You wanted that whole experience, getting asked with roses, being slow danced with and held tight. Ethan unfailingly went overboard on slow dances every year; he shouted the lyrics to the songs off key, spun you around dramatically, made fun of all the surrounding couples--just sucked any bit of romance out of it. Cause you guys were Just Friends.

And that was fine, but it wasn't perfect.

You looked around and saw him stuck up in the bleachers, his hair disheveled and his face pale where it hung. He looked awful--he looked sick. You stopped grinding on your best friend Courtney for a split second to examine him more properly.

Ethan did feel sick. He thought he was going to throw up thinking about what he was about to do.

Should he? Should he really expose himself like this, at a school dance of all places? Didn't you deserve better than that? You deserved a fun, drama-free night full of shitty 2000's music and even shittier spiked punch--the staples of a good prom. You deserved a bed of roses and chocolate truffles in those heart packages and a million other cliches. You deserved more than Ethan.

But it's May now, Ethan realizes. Realizes he's got exactly 24 days until graduation, and then only three months until college begins and you two split about half an hour apart. It's May and how much longer does he really have anyway? What if you died tomorrow? Ethan's heart actually sinks at the mere thought.

He looks up to see you frowning at him half a gym away, your hair dolled up all pretty, your face caked with all the make you don't need but love so much. You look spectacular in your dress, obviously. Ethan knows there's no way in fucking hell he can't do this tonight, cliches be damned.

And now, now Ethan's made a promise to himself--he's gonna tell you how he feels--and it feels like torture. He has the heaviest, most leaden bit of dread sunken in his stomach. And yet, he's gotta do this. He's just gotta.

You've started trekking towards him--wobbling like a newborn colt in those heels you forced yourself to wear--when the DJ says with the stalest of voices, "Alright everybody, we're going to slow things down a bit..."

It's a song Ethan would never know off the top of his head if he hadn't heard you singing it in the shower one time when he'd come over. He can still hear your voice--less than angelic, he will admit--wailing the lyrics of I Couldn't Be More In Love by the 1975. Rasp and cracks aside, the memory still makes his knees weak, even weaker than they are now, rising despite the butterflies in his belly begging him to sit back down. You halt where you are and gaze up at the rafters of the gym once you realize what song's playing, and Ethan can see the faint smile on your lips even in the lowlight and beams of disco glitter. He thinks he just might faint.

By the time he gets to you, he can hear his own pulse, can feel it too in the expanse of his neck and planes of his chest. His hands are clammy—no, clammy hardly covers it. He might just sweat through his dress shirt; luckily, he discarded the vest and dinner coat awhile ago. You're still grinning up at the ceiling and Ethan wonders if he should just run while he still has the chance.

But he doesn't, of course he doesn't, because he has to do this. So, he taps you on the shoulder gently, the most gentle he's probably ever been with you, and swallows the lump of fear in his throat. You look at him and grin, all teeth, and mumble, "I love this song."

"I know you do," Ethan blurts too quick, his words strangled. Slowly, he slides a hand down the length of your waist and wraps his palm there and takes your hand in the other. Then, the two of you realize that that just won't work, so he chuckles and pulls you in close, tight, fits you between his arms with his wrists dangling over each other behind your back. You slip your arms around his neck and it feels different this time, much different, and you wonder when Ethan grew up without you noticing.

"How'd you know?" you ask after a beat, a quirk in your brow.

Ethan pinches his eyes shut, cursing under his breath. "Uh..." he begins, swallowing thickly, "heard you sing it in the shower one time..."

He knows there are better ways to explain that, but he can't figure out any bit of the English language right now, not with you pressed against him naturally, like you could slow dance with him forever. He prays to god you can't feel his heartbeat against your cheek.

"Oh my god, tell me you're kidding," you groan, heat licking at the back of your neck. You bang your head against the bone of his shoulder, humiliated beyond repair. "I have the worst voice and you know that."

Ethan shakes his head right away, his hold on you tightening just a little. This is so foreign, Ethan being... God, if you didn't know any better, you'd almost say Ethan was nervous.

"That's okay, I like your voice," he squeaks.

You stiffen against him and then realize he can't possibly be serious, so you giggle in his ear. "E, stop sucking up to me, we're already best friends."

Ethan knows he has to do it now, now. He lets out a shaky breath and squeezes his eyes shut tight, counting back from ten.

But what about these feelings I've got? I couldn't be more in love.

By the end of that line, Ethan decides he must spit it out. "I know, and I hate it."

He hears your breath hitch in his ear, feels you tense and pull back from his chest, warmth disappearing from your body and your personality. Ethan knows he has to keep going when a look of pure heartbreak splits on your face.

"I-I don't like being best friends. Well- no, I love being best friends, but I don't- I- I don't like being just best friends, okay? I don't like pretending and I've spent the past four years pretending," Ethan breathes, his whole body shaking.

You've caught on by now, and your jaw's completely slack. It's a good thing Ethan's eyes are sealed shut--permanently, from what you can tell.

"Eth-"

"No, I gotta say this," Ethan whines, his head falling forward. He presses his temple to yours, so close and intimate in a way you've never seen him, never felt him. The two of you are still swaying, slow and steady, blending in with the crowd of lovesick teenagers. And it's weird because it feels so personal, you feel so alone in your own little world of Ethan. You love it. "I fucking love you. And I'm not saying it in that way that we end our facetimes with, I mean that I really fucking love you. I'm- I'm in love with you," he chokes out, his voice crackling. He pauses for a beat and shakes his head. "That's not even right. I don't even know if there're words out there that can describe how I feel about you. And I know I'm an ass about a thousand percent of the time, but that's because you make my legs feel like jelly and my head feel like static. And usually, I can just ignore it--well, not ignore it, I can never ignore you--but usually I can, uh, push it down," he says.

Ethan pulls back and looks down at you, his eyes round and doe-ish. His tongue darts out to lick his lips and he shakes his head again. "But not tonight. Not when you're looking like this and acting like you always do. I- I think I nearly passed out when I picked you up from your house," he says, squeezing his eyes shut once more.

You're absolutely gobsmacked. Amazed. Stupefied. Speechless.

"And I get it, I'm shit at romantics and even worse with words, but I mean it. I'm so into you. And this might be surprising since I'm pretty good at pretending like you're a little sister to me-" Ethan pauses to scrunch his face up distastefully. "-but that couldn't be farther from the truth. I, um, I couldn't be more in love," he finishes, wincing at his cliche and the way he's echoing the chorus's lyrics.

You think you might just cry with relief, staring up at him. He's looking at you like you've just saved the world, or aligned the stars, or waxed poetry; his eyes are soft but full of awe, a few inches from yours. And his lips are parted like he wants to say more, but Ethan's right, he's never been that good with words, not until now. Your hearts thundering, pounding, racing in your chest, swollen with love for Ethan Dolan. And you thought he ought to know it.

You giggle with disbelief and shake your head. Your head falls forward on his collarbone and he takes the opportunity to kiss the crown of your head, and you wonder if Ethan feels this inevitability, that there has always been a spark of tension between you, that just friends can't care as much as you two do and remain just friends, that he's got nothing to worry about. So you pull back, inch your lips forward, and check his expression for permission, but Ethan's already halfway there.

You lean in, and press your lips to him softly, graze your fingers against the peak of his cheekbone. He's kissing you back like he's got all the time in the world to love you under the glow of these disco lights, in the mass of these slow dancing bodies, in the middle of your high school gym. His tongue glides along the split of your lips, hesitant but warm and wet and stomach-flipping, and you crack open your mouth with a giggle, slipping your fingers into his over-gelled hair. Ethan slides his tongue along tentatively along yours. He must notice your shudder and feel you press into him more firmly, more sure of yourself, because he does it again, leaving you dazed and crazed and desperate. You cradle his jaw between your palms and kiss him like you mean it, lost in the feeling of love and the tune of a love song.

Subliminally, your brain registers the snickers and whispers sounding around you, but you're too intoxicated by the reality of your constant daydreams to really acknowledge them. However, Grayson has other plans as he claps a hand--hard--on Ethan's back as the song draws to a close, startling the two of you and peeling you away from one another.

"About fucking time, bro," Grayson snorts, his eyebrows lifted skyward and his smirk far too smug.

Your cheeks are burning as you glare at Grayson and the way he's chuckling along with your crew of friends. Ethan decides there's far too much space between you and yanks you back to him, ignorant to your stiffness. "Suck my dick," he snaps back, resting his chin on the crown of your head. After a beat of swaying still, as the sound of a song less heavy rolls in, Ethan says, "I think your lipstick is like, all over my mouth."

You snort. "How much gel did you put in your hair?"

Ethan scoffs and shakes his head, his chin rubbing over your hair. "No idea. Too much."

"It's all over my hands," you giggle, squeezing them in the air and cringing at the way they stick.

"It's all Grayson's fault, the bitch doesn't know how to do hair apparently."

You chuckle and shake your head, so familiar with this side of Ethan it comes as no surprise. What does shock you is the way he keeps his arms tight around your waist, the way he slips a finger under your chin and tilts your face to his, and plants another kiss--albeit tongueless--on you in front of half the student body. If Grayson gags violently and Courtney attracts the attention of everyone with her obnoxious awe's, that's okay with you. You couldn't be more in love.

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