#pressing into the bite mark on his thigh???

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-seven —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3.2k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex!!! SEX. enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

It is difficult to tell who lifts the mask.

You think you start it, then he finishes it with a shove up to his nose. 

Your mouth claims his, ivy to stone.

His lips part for your tongue as your arms loop around his shoulders. His fingers dig in your scalp, sharp enough to draw a hiss, while his other arm yanks you closer by the waist, heat searing against your bare skin. It's not a kiss—too unruly for that. His tongue grazes your chin; you taste the edge of his nose. The world narrows to the harsh sound of your breathing, the scrape of your teeth, a tangible truth:

You want him, too. 

He pulls back with one great heave of breath just after the tear on your lip is reopened. A strand of pink-tinted saliva connects you. His eyes search your face, hesitation flickering in his gaze. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I clearly just did.”

His jaw tightens. “I need words. Tell me you understand what you—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, voice trembling with a mix of frustration and need. “Don’t act like I can’t make my own decisions. Like I can’t handle you.” Rising on your toes, you bite his lip, hard enough to draw a matching drop of blood. “I’ve handled you before—Simon."

A shudder wrenches his shoulders.

Your words rip a growl from his throat, snapping the last of his restraint.

His kiss devours you, raw and unforgiving, until everything else fades to red. Not blood, but something else, something you’ve kept hidden for longer than you care to admit. It burns in your chest—the terrifying realization that you might break if you don’t have him here and now.

His grip on your hair shifts to your thigh, lifting you with ease. Tree bark bites into your spine. You trail kisses down his jaw to the hollow below his ear. Your ankles lock around his waist, dragging up his shirt. The metal buckle of his belt presses where you ache, the friction drawing a sharp gasp. Even through the layers, he feels impossibly thick.

He forces your neck to the side, mouth sucking down your throat to your collarbone with urgent deliberation, as if he wants to memorize every inch but realizes neither of you possess the patience for it. He licks, then bites, the pain making your hips angle in upward seeking. Your reaction pulls a smirk from him. His teeth and tongue glide lower, and he hikes your damp bra up to expose your breasts.

"Fucking hell." A guttural exhale before hand and mouth devours them.

Thought evaporates.

Your chest turns sheen with spit.

You thrash against the tree, your nipple caught between his teeth. He teases it with a graze, then sinks in.

Heat punches the pit of your stomach with a ferocity that makes you cry out.

You claw at the back of his mask. "I need...I need—more."

He groans, low, staving the bite mark with his tongue. This time when he rolls the other nipple between teeth, it is in combination with two fingers slipping under your underwear. The muscles in your thigh jerk. A rough finger grinds circles into your clit, and another glides through the wet seam of you. It is impossible not to fight for more. Delirious with greed, you cant your hips down to slip his middle finger inside. 

He takes the hint and works a second finger into you. Your legs tighten around him in unending tremors that must make keeping his arm between your bodies uncomfortable, his wrist straining to reach you. Arousal leaks steadily onto his hand. You turn less vocal now that you're close, vision failing you, and he tongues at the shell of your ear with a growl.

"I'm not going to fuck you until you cum."

"I'm—"

Strong fingertips curl into the sensitive pad within you, coaxing an orgasm much stronger than the one you gave yourself. It beats through your blood in hot bursts, robbing you of the ability to keep your head up. You lean onto his shoulder, feeling it flex as he fucks his fingers once, twice, then three more times before drawing them out. Through the haze, you hear the drag of his tongue over them and then a soft wet release.

"You will give me more of that."

A flush consumes your face. Your lips part to speak; you can't—

"What happened to my mouthy girl?" he taunts in a murmur.

His tone snaps the world into focus. "She's here."

"I thought she could handle me."

You lift your head to narrow your gaze at his, despising the tick in his brow. "You are insufferable."

"Ah. There she is. I was worried I lost her."

The striking awareness that you are almost naked, while he is fully clothed head-to-toe, suddenly irritates you. You curl your fingers around the fabric bunched by his ear. "Take this off. I've already seen you. It's pointless now."

"You'll have to take it off yourself."

You’re about to move when he pins your wrist to the tree, then the other. A silent challenge. You squirm, but it only drags the belt across your sensitive cunt, making you hiss. You've been here before—restrained by him. But this time, his weakness is clear, a heavy, undeniable pressure pressing against you.

You nudge your nose against his and kiss the taste of yourself from his mouth with slow, ribbing strokes of your tongue. The change in pace makes him sigh into you. You give a swirl of your hips, grinding into him, staggering his breath. When he attempts to press again, seeking relief between the join of hip and thigh, you still your movements. He growls, squeezing your wrists. 

In his next try, you unlock your ankle and jab a knee into his ribs. 

He flinches, but doesn't loosen his grip, laughing softly. "A valiant attempt," he mutters.

"Shut up," you mumble, breath huffing out of you.

"Was that your entire plan?"

"I'm not fucking you until it's off, you know."

"Make more of an effort, then."

Fine.

You run your tongue slowly over your lip, offering a teasing shift of your hips. His throat bobs, a quick, instinctive response. Your thighs tighten around his torso, holding firm. "You are needy for this, too, Simon. Don't act like I am the only one." Your voice comes out hoarse, almost foreign. You move your hips in a steady rhythm, your lips finding the tender skin just above his collarbone. "I bet I could make you cum, just like this. You won't even need to be inside me."

It is an experiment, really, but the thundering of his heart confirms your claim. With your panties bunched to the side, your arousal glides over him, staining his jeans. He matches your movements with firm presses at the base of his clothed-cock. You taste the pulsing vein beneath your tongue, swirling and nibbling, a smoldering heat blossoming in your stomach once more.

"I touched myself thinking about you," you whisper into his skin, ego swelling when his breath stills, then rushes out from his nose. "My fingers didn't feel nearly as good as yours." You purposely moan, almost a whine. Impossibly, he feels harder. Swelling towards release. His skin feels hotter. You nose the underside of his jaw. "You're going to cum soon, aren't you? I can tell. I haven't even taken off any of your clothes yet and you're going to cum. How does it feel to be weak for me?"

His jowls flex from your words and his hips buck with a mindlessness that makes you smile. The heat between you is obliterating. It almost crumbles your vengeance. But when he digs his nails into your wrists with a slight tremble, ashen lashes fluttering, you interrupt the moment before he can finish.

You bite the skin where his throat meets his jaw and kick his ribs again. His eyes snap open, his hold faltering. He stumbles back, and you grapple his shoulders, forcing him to the ground. You fall on top of him, knees bracketing his hips, fingers moving swiftly to tear off the mask.

For a few seconds, you merely stare at each other, like a deer gazing at a hunter.

Face to face, truly, for the first time.

His face, flushed red, is even more handsome like this—rugged and scarred, bared at your mercy beneath you. It makes your heart falter over a beat. His hands drag down the notches of your spine, slow and deliberate, never breaking eye contact. Because you’re paying such close attention, you catch it—a sweeping glint in his gaze. Admiration, maybe. Or just lust.

You swallow thickly and give a tug to his shirt.

He rips it over his head.

You finish yanking the damp bra off.

Your underwear is next.

When you're both bare, exposed and raw, jeans bunched awkwardly at his ankles, the game ends. Neither of you are willing to play anymore. His fingers tighten around your hips as you grip his cock, heavy and slick with the evidence of the edge he was pulled from. You drag the fat head of him through your folds, just once, before lining him up with your hole and sinking down.

Pain flares. Either because it has been years since you've been stretched like this, or because he is just that thick. You hiss through your teeth and pause halfway down, scratching over the hard plane of his chest in search of relief. You feel him deep already, uncomfortably so, and his touch softens over your skin despite the veins sticking out in his neck.

"Take it slow."

"I can handle it."

"It's alright if you can't," his voice softens over the gravel in it.

"I can."

Stubbornly, you take another centimeter, then another, before slamming all the way down, the full length of him breaking through the last layer of resistance until you are fully seated. The press of his fingers into your ass is as rough as the exhale that follows. You feel him twitch within you, his balls heavy and tight, but he allows you the time to adjust, slowly rocking your hips until the discomfort teeters toward pleasure.

He is so big that the tip of him reaches a crevice between your inner wall and cervix. When your pace quickens, the pressure of his pubic bone on your clit makes your body quake with one fierce tremor. You fail to keep yourself upright, the jolt of it bringing your face to his neck. Strong arms flex around you, hands bracing your shoulder blades, to keep you anchored against his chest as his hips cant up to drive him—somehow—deeper. He is in you and around you. All at once. Every inch of grey rot living in you is replaced with damning hunger for him. You swirl and grind and bite his neck, breaking capillaries. 

"That's it, yeah." The raw grit in his voice makes your muscles clench around the base of him. "Take what you need." 

When his firm, neatly corded muscles begin to quiver, his movements lose their precision. He is trying to hold back from the ledge you left him on. His hand tangles in your hair, yanking you back from his neck, and his teeth sink into the tender skin below your ear as a distraction. His breaths come hot and quick, cooling the sweat slicking your skin.

You feel like a conglomerate of broken pieces about to be shattered, every carefully stitched seam straining, ready to snap. Your eyes roll back. Your toes flex and curl. You are so close—

Without warning, and all too soon, he lifts you off. 

"Fuck—"

His cock bobs between your bodies, liquid heat frothing over your stomach in pulses. His eyes are screwed shut, lips parted to let out a noisy rush of air, all of the hardened lines on his face unwoven in the wake of pleasure. You hover over him, blades of grass indented into your knees, watching with silent fascination despite the frustrated fizzle of your own approaching orgasm. When his eyes reopen, they are glazed and unfocused, yet somehow he had more wherewithal to remember pulling out than you did.

Then, he flips you over with a heaving push, cock still hard. You are neatly caged by the sprawl of his muscle, reminded that he easily could've overtaken you before if he wanted to.

"I can go again." It sounds as if he has to dig the words out with great effort, still breathless. 

You reach between your bodies to keep his slippery cock at bay near your thigh. "We can't. It wouldn't be safe after you just—just came."

His lashes flutter in resignation, a firm nod as he dips his head to your collarbones. He rests it there for a moment, likely ignoring the ache in his cock that vies for more attention, and you stare down at the flexing brawn of his back, at the firm swell of his ass. Then he kisses your sternum, over your heart, and sucks his way down the soft curve of your abdomen, gentle, chapped lips against faded bruises.  

When he reaches the raw flesh between your thighs, he lifts your legs and urges your feet on his back. His nose nudges your clit, inhaling deeply the scent of where you'd just been joined, and your breath hitches in anticipation. 

He kisses you here, a curious circle of his tongue around your clit that mimics his finger, before sliding through the slippery seam. When you fist his hair and dig your heels into his shoulders, his gentleness ceases. He closes his entire mouth on you, working furiously to reignite the heat from your spine, which arches off the ground in desperation, driving your puffy cunt harder against the pad of muscle. You grind your hips in combination with pulling on his hair, keeping his tongue right where you need it. It strokes your hole, pushing in and out.

"That's so good, Ghost. So good. I'm—"

You cum hard on his tongue, free hand fisting the grass. It is less of a precipice that you fall off of, and more a crashing wave, like the one you nearly drowned in, but this time you let it sweep you, searing white through the backs of your eyelids. He keeps his tongue there to catch the leakage with an obscenely wet sound you barely hear over the ringing in your ears. By the time it fades, you feel wrecked, spit out on the shore, your mind blank. The wave recedes. 

You hear a soft grunt and then his forehead drops on your sticky belly. The tremor in his shoulders indicates his own release, which he emptied in the grass.

You lay together like this for minutes.

Fingers mindless against his scalp.

Staring at the sky.

Awareness slowly seeps in as the sound of fluttering birds and the quiet ripples over the creak. 

The hum of life returns around you. You'd almost forgotten where you were or how you got here. How long has it been? Your fingers slacken in his hair as you gaze around, the silent trees your only witness, and the sun beginning to dip toward the horizon. The understanding sinks in that you are both absent, and returning together at dark would—

The thought is tucked away when strong arms lift you up, scooping under the crook of your knees.

He is able to walk steadily even when you aren't certain you could.

He carries the mess of your body to the water. The peaceful warmth of it converges over you, highlighting the soreness that you were able to ignore in the throes of it all. Wordlessly, and with a thoughtful crease between his brow, he holds you up with one arm while scrubbing your stomach with the other, rinsing off his essence. It is not an uncomfortable silence, just a thick one, only broken by little drips of water as he cleans you with more intent than you did the first time.

You try to piece together everything in your mind, but the thoughts slip through your fingers like the water. You don’t know what he’s thinking or feeling—a stark contrast to the clarity you found in the heat of him only minutes ago. His body has always been the more decipherable part of him, but now even the stiffness in his shoulders feels like a cipher you can’t crack.

When he leans down and presses a chaste kiss to your damp hair, it doesn’t feel affectionate, exactly. It’s not distant, either—just tender in a way you’re not sure how to interpret. The gnawing questions fill your brain: When was the last time he did this with someone? How many more times will you do it together? Not just once, he said. But what does that mean?

Why do you feel hesitant to ask, even though you were just brindled with confidence while riding his cock?

You try to wipe his own stomach but he brushes your fingers away and does it himself, nodding his chin toward your clothes. "Get dressed. You'll go first."

"Huh?"

"They think I am scouting up ahead right now. I'll be back later."

"Oh," you say, not able to conjure a meaningful response.

He raises an eyebrow at you but offers nothing else except a gentle thumbing over hair that sticks to your cheek. You follow his directions, returning to the grassy bank while the cool air prickles your wet skin. You feel his heavy stare as he watches you towel off, trying to ignore the obvious marks on your hips, stomach, ass, and collarbones. They taunt you with a blush to your cheeks. Luckily, when you slip on the oversized shirt, the majority of them are concealed, your hair finishing the job of covering your neck.

You've no idea what hour it could be when you return, feigning nonchalance, but the setting sun means Ghost won't be out there much longer. In his absence, you feel colder than the temperature truly is. The deep ache that ebbs and flows with each step proves him right. There is no going back after this. No—you will still be able to feel him, like a phantom, even when the soreness between your legs fades. What you are meant to do about that fact is something you can sort through later when you have the state of mind for it. 

Will you ever have the state of mind for it?

You push the voice away and keep your gaze lowered as you approach Nereida, returning the borrowed soaps. The others are gathered around the fire—Kyle eating, Blue and Ari laughing about something, while Price hunches over the map, finalizing tomorrow’s route.

"Was it relaxing?" she asks.

"Hm?"

You blink, bringing your gaze to her, and only now realizing that it is still rather droopy and blurred, the look in her eyes barely in focus as she tilts her head. "Your bath," she clarifies.

"Oh. Mhm." You nod, forcing a small smile. "Yeah, it was just what I needed. I'm actually, um, rather tired now. I think I will sleep early."

She drags her eyes over you, causing your weight to shift, before she returns the smile. "Sounds like a good idea. Long day tomorrow. You should eat first, though."

"Right," you concede, tongue to cheek.

Ghost returns in the midst of you shoveling beans into your mouth, knees tucked to your chest in front of the flames, and his silence as usual. He reports to Price about the clear motorway, his voice clinical, but you catch the subtle roughness beneath it—something no one else would notice, the only detectable trace of what you shared. What you told Nereida wasn't a lie, you feel robbed of energy, and can hardly muster the strength to tie your dried hair in two braids before tucking yourself in a sleeping bag, staring dazedly at the oncoming stars. 

[jakesyluslly]

subdragon!sylus

𖹭 nsfw/sfw || mdni 𖹭

𖹭 grinding is his way of wordlessly expressing his needs. while you're sitting normally, you'll suddenly feel him press against you, his tail wrapping around your body as he inhales your scent. you can tell what he wants from his needy red eyes and soft moans.

𖹭 if you don't give him what he wants, he'll writhe beneath you, trying to entice you. he knows you can't resist him and uses that to his advantage. he'll touch himself right in front of you, ignoring your pleas for him to stop. mischievous by nature, he'll moan while touching himself, never breaking eye contact until you can no longer hold back.

𖹭 he begs for your guidance, always craving the feel of your hands on his skin. he pleads for your touch, even for you to hurt him. he'll place his hands above his head, offering his whole body to you. when you try to pull away, he'll wrap his tail around you, pulling you closer. even if you remain still, he'll rub against you, stubborn in his desire.

𖹭 he treasures the collar you made just for him, never taking it off. he loves the feeling of belonging to you, and the collar arouses him. you know that your mischievous dragon doesn’t surrender control entirely. he won’t fully obey, doing anything to earn your punishment.

𖹭 his idea of a quality sleep is sucking on your nipple. when he's been good and is rewarded by sucking your nipple, you can see his eyes light up. he wraps his arms around you, lowering his head to your chest, taking your nipple into his mouth. he's like a giant dragon baby, making contented noises, lost in the moment. occasionally, you'll feel a bite, but you don't complain because he's earned this reward.

𖹭 he wants you to be rough with him, writhing for it. when you choke him, he'll gaze at you with those sharp yet soft eyes. he tilts his head back and closes his eyes, surrendering completely, trusting you and savoring the pleasure you give. he begs for your bites, wanting his body covered in your marks.

𖹭 he calls you "my queen," ready to dedicate all his treasures to you. crafting something with his hands for you is more precious than a few coins. he's even learned to make crowns from flowers, and seeing your smile when he presents it is the most priceless treasure for him.

𖹭 though he doesn't particularly enjoy being tied up, he doesn't resist either. touching you is his greatest desire, and when he's restrained, he hates it. every fiber of his being screams to break free from the chains. still, he strives to please you, trying to stay close to you and your touch despite being bound. "please, my queen… have mercy on this young dragon at your feet and allow me to touch your delicate skin…" hearing those words fills you with satisfaction.

𖹭 he never releases without your command or permission. he fights the urge to satisfy himself in your absence, feeling like he'll go mad whenever your face crosses his mind, but he refuses to touch himself. even when you want to tease him, you usually can't bear it and allow him to release. when you finally grasp his swollen cock, he moans so softly that you're always amazed a dragon can make such sounds. "please… a little tighter…" he always begs, never stopping to ask, guiding you as he pleads.

𖹭 he lets you do whatever you want to him, eagerly accepting being your test subject. you can put anything you desire into his tight anal opening; he's strong enough to take it all. "i want to feel you inside me, my queen…" he whispers, his tail stroking your thighs. "fuck me so hard that i lose my voice screaming your name…"

𖹭 as evident, he loves being pegged by you. he wants you to be rough, to hold all the control. while you fuck him with all your beauty, his eyes remain locked on you. you hold the chain tightly, leaving him breathless, continuing until you hear an animalistic growl from his throat. his tail is always wrapped around your waist, pulling you deeper.

𖹭 licking your pussy is a reward for him. he loses himself, his tongue moving at a speed you can't even imagine. he holds your legs so tightly that he doesn't even notice his claws scratching your skin. he rubs his nose against your clit, bringing you to the peak of pleasure until you come into his mouth.

𖹭 he shows his love through biting. even in the most unexpected moments, he'll appear beside you, sinking his teeth into your skin. he doesn't listen to your protests, ignoring them and simply enjoying the taste of your silky skin, letting his soft moans fill your ears.

𖹭 the young dragon causes a lot of mischief, taking an inexplicable pleasure in irritating you. you have many ways to punish him, with candles being one of them. you let the hot wax drip onto his bare skin. his mischievous grin never fades as he takes the pain, almost seeming to enjoy it. his body writhes, maintaining eye contact with you while biting his lower lip. "just like that… punish your young dragon… he deserves it…"

[apeachty]

₊ ˚ ⊹ ♡ . ⠀broken rules, mended hearts

⠀⠀⠀fwb!yeonjun x fem!reader

genre : angst, hurt/comfort, smut, fluff at the end

warnings : dom fwb!yeonjun x sub!reader, both are intended more or less grown up as yeonjun has his own apartment and reader has a job; LOTS of kinks mentioned, but nothing too much; reader was “close to inexperienced” before yeonjun; unwanted pregnancy discussions; some misogyny (not from yeonjun, ofc); reader is awkward when it comes to dates and also puts yeonjun through a really bad emotional rollercoaster (but not on purpose); lots of misunderstandings and overthinking. reader wears a sundress (is it important?..). melancholic and angsty, but with a happy end

wordcount : 14k

note : sigh... thank you @biteyoubiteme for hyping me up, beta reading it and listening to all of my tantrums every 3k words. it wouldn't have happened without you ♡ i also don't know how it happened, i guess i just wanted a happy ending for fwb!yeonjun bad enough.

yeonjun had become soft recently. too soft. what was once regular doggy style slowly transformed into regular missionary, with your limbs wrapped tight around his body; occasional cowgirl rides, where he’d watch you struggle, hands behind his head, shifted to him holding you tight and helping you move on top of him. chests pressed close, as your breaths were mingling in the small, intimate space, heartbeats syncing as one. 

sharp quick bites turned into deliberate love marks he took his time to make, pressing his lips gently to each mark before moving to unmarked skin; quick frustrated slaps to your thighs and ass became more intended and calculated. he developed a habit of gripping handful after each slap, fingertips sinking into your flesh, before caressing bruised skin tenderly. he was marking you even more than before, but started doing it slowly, as if savouring every drag of his nails along your thighs, every touch, every bite, and wanting you to savour it too.

rare, tiny pecks that used to happen infrequently began appearing more often, slowly inching dangerously close to your lips. so slowly that you barely noticed it until you could smell mint toothpaste and faint honey chapstick he bought for himself because he loved the way yours smelled. his mean name-calling and degradation melted into sweet names and an almost unnecessary amount of praise. 

unnecessary, you chuckled to yourself bitterly. you never knew how much you needed yeonjun to be like that until he became the person who held you tight after each orgasm, his hand over your heart, waiting for it to calm down, his lips pressed to your neck, whispering how much of a good girl you were for him. sometimes he stayed the night, or made you stay. gosh, you even cockwarmed him through the night once, and you never wanted him to leave your body after that. 

what had started as a way to release frustration, stress, or anger, became something messy and confusing. he began refusing to have sex with you when he was angry, calling it “unfair to you”. he said he didn't want to pour all of his frustration onto you. you begged him sometimes, though. at first, because he was so unbelievably hot when he was like that and you craved him to be rough—the roughest—with you. later, because you wanted him to let it all out—bottling up emotions never did anything good for anyone, and you knew fucking you until you could barely think would help him.

sometimes he agreed, and sometimes he didn't. if he did, he still started softly, keeping his emotions down just for a moment to make sure you knew he wasn't angry at you, never at you, before throwing you on the bed and making you a dumb, trembling, whimpering mess beneath him. marks and love bruises bloomed all over your body as he fucked you senseless. when he refused, though, you talked about his day, ate ice cream or some of his favourite food, as frustration was slowly leaving his body and he was laughing more and more at your antics. understanding which one was needed started coming naturally for you somewhere along the way. and he confessed once that both were helping him the same, in their own ways. 

yeonjun started taking more charge when you were the one stressed too, almost pulling you away from his dick when he knew that getting fucked senselessly would only add to your burden. he acted like he knew better than you did, and the worst part was—he was right. he was doing exactly what you needed, almost every time, and if he ever misunderstood, he was quick to change his approach. it felt like he could get into your mind. or like you two were so perfectly suited, your flaws aligning like puzzle pieces, that no words were needed. you didn't know which one was worse.

it wasn't that sex had become boring or rare. against all odds, you both started reaching out to each other more often—not just on bad days, but when you were horny, or bored, or had free time. sometimes you’d text him because you missed him, and even though he agreed to meet every time, you refused to admit—even to yourself—that you just wanted to spend time with him, sex or not. 

you started experimenting more too. impulsive rough sex had its limits and lines yeonjun couldn't cross because he could hurt you while he couldn't control himself, but as it started happening on a cold head more and more often, you both found yourselves enjoying testing how far he could go, how much your body could take. he learned your limits—how many slaps your butt could endure, the right way to squeeze your throat to make you dizzy yet enjoying it, how many times he could deny your orgasm or grant it, how hard he could pull your hair to make you beg for more. you even got a pretty box of all the nice toys and added ‘yellow’ as a safe word just for him to explore your limits more comfortably. 

one day he mentioned a list of more things he would like to try—you weren’t sure if it was with you or in general, given his experience. you were close to inexperienced when the ‘friends with benefits’ thing started, and he introduced you to many of his kinks. surprisingly enough you loved each one, while being not too interested in the ones he was indifferent to. but there were more he wanted you to try, and he named only a few—free use with somnophilia, the thought of him using you any moment and any way he wanted already thrilled you; role play, the few ideas he shared sounded good already. but the one he mentioned and quickly brushed off was a spit kink, which stuck in your mind since then, conflicting with the ‘no kissing’ rule of his. 

yeonjun was a decent man too, always had been, so it was typically at least one for one when it came to oral activities between you two. of course, sometimes he could eat you out simply because he wanted to, not as a “return the favour” gesture, but usually you just skipped it for the sake of the main event unless he wanted to fuck your face. recently, however, it had changed too—eating you out had become a necessary part of the ‘main event’ for him, as if something had been unleashed within him. he would spend hours between your legs before or after fucking you—or both—and it felt like he had learned from the gods themselves. his free hand would often be resting over your heart or holding yours, fingers interlaced. and at the same time you had to beg him to let you suck him off, despite knowing you weren't that bad at it and that he clearly enjoyed the feeling of your mouth on him. you assumed he just enjoyed hearing your pathetic begging for his cock a little bit more.

you’d probably fucked on every surface in his apartment, which wasn't exactly weird, because you did it before too—often none of you had enough patience to get to the bedroom. but now it was different—he asked you if you liked the place, if it was comfortable for you, if the position was comfortable or if you would like something else. if you didn’t like it he never pulled you there even in the heat of a moment. his questions weren’t obvious, but you quickly caught on, jokingly suggesting you should fill a survey. he laughed, joking back and saying you two could move in together for the research to go faster.

it was confusing. he was confusing. and you hated it more than anything. except one thing—the way your “friends with benefits” arrangement was evolving lately made you feel soft and dizzy, made you dream of something more like you were a middle schooler writing her crush’s name in a diary and drawing a bunch of tiny hearts around it. it went against the ‘no catching feelings’ he’d set up in the beginning. you broke it at some point—maybe ‘friends with benefits’ thing wasn’t for you in general? you were hiding it, of course, but when he started changing, you started overthinking it. was he breaking the rule too? was it just normal behaviour for friends with benefits? was it just normal behaviour for him? 

you didn’t ask, afraid he would laugh at you and your stupid childish feelings. but you didn’t break what you had either, not knowing what to do to make it hurt the least in the end for you and choosing to go with the flow. you tried to not question anything he did, slowly giving him control over your relationship, not only in bed but out of it too. you had no idea how it was supposed to work in general, and he never explained except making a few rules and asking if you had any rules you'd like to have too. you couldn't think of anything, so you just mumbled something about you both checking for STDs, and he chuckled telling you it always went without saying.

a few weeks later it became the “we're strictly exclusive” rule, as you both realized that looking for anyone else was useless—you met each other’s needs well. you ditched condoms too—you’d been on birth control pills for years already, you were exclusive, and you both were clean. and he swore you would be into cum play just as much as he was. he turned out to be right, because condoms were prohibited in his and your place since the first night without one. it never crossed your mind, because it made sense, until one day, months later, you realized your period was late.

you had been staying at yeonjun’s house for nearly two weeks—his apartment was closer to your work, and with the quarter ending, he suggested you move in until you finished your extra work. it made sense, as you already had enough of your belongings there, and he often checked if anything needed to be bought. his gaze fell on your period supplies one day, and he realized that you should have been on your period for a few days already, but all the packages were still unopened. 

it wasn't too big of a deal, it had happened a few times before. these past two weeks had been stressful for you, so he just grabbed the last pregnancy test—making a mental note to buy more later—and handed it to you without any second thought. you didn't pay much attention to it either, taking it from him and going to the bathroom. after all, you were taking pills, and even though they weren't 100% effective, getting pregnant was still rare. the test showed positive though. 

seeing the pale little line next to the bright one made your whole world come crashing down. you stared at it, unable to comprehend what was worse. unwanted pregnancy? you didn't want to have children, not at that point of your life at least. yeonjun didn't want either. he was your friend with benefits for god's sake, that was completely uncalled for. it'd be uncalled for even if you were dating, and you weren't. you started spiraling. pregnancy could be dealt with, but he could think you did it on purpose, skipping your pills just to get pregnant, to baby trap him. he would hate you, you thought. he would yell at you to get out, saying he wanted nothing to do with you, that everything was a mistake, even meeting you.

yeonjun found you a few minutes later, sitting on the bathroom floor and staring at the test, tears streaming down your face. you didn't react to him calling you, and he didn't need to look at the test to know the result. you looked up at him, eyes puffy and red, holding out the test. he glanced at it quickly, but it felt like an eternity for you. it was the moment you realized the feelings you had caught for him were too strong, as your heart was breaking into the smallest pieces at the thought of him telling you to leave his life. and the worst thing was, you weren't so sure anymore what to do with the child, with the tiny piece of him. 

you waited for him to yell at you, but he never did. yeonjun wasn't excited or even happy to become a father, but he sat down next to you and held you while you fell apart in his arms, trying to keep at least the biggest pieces of you together. he promised to hold your hand through every step of pregnancy, birth, and parenthood if the test was right and you wanted to keep the baby. he said you could move in with him here, and he would turn his little dance room into a nursery and baby’s room later, or even sell that apartment to buy a bigger one. he swore to never leave you two alone, and if you needed a guarantee, he was ready to marry you as soon as possible.

yeonjun ran to get more when he was sure you had calmed down. it turned out the test was expired and showed a false positive—you weren't pregnant, and you were relieved. he visibly relaxed too—he never told you he was happy you weren't pregnant but you knew him well enough already to know it yourself, and weren’t mad at him even for a second—you felt absolutely the same. the whole situation drained you completely though, and you fell asleep early that day, wrapped tightly in yeonjun's arms as he kept you together after all the shocks of the day. 

that was the last time it happened, the unwanted and unhappened pregnancy drawing a line between you that was little by little becoming a growing gap. you distanced yourself from him, and he started reaching out much less frequently too. you didn't know what was going through his head, but you assumed he realized that having a child was too much—maybe with you, maybe in general—and the risk wasn't worth it. you were thinking something similar: if you were going to take that risk, you'd prefer doing it in not only an exclusive but also committed relationship, and you couldn't have it with yeonjun no matter how much you wished the rule didn’t exist.

it brought you here, sitting half ready for a date on the couch in your apartment, phone in hand. you hadn't heard from yeonjun in three weeks, and for three weeks, you tried to keep your mind as empty as your hollow heart was, afraid that even the smallest thought about what you two had would ruin the little composure you managed to get. but it didn't happen—you’d just basically analyzed everything that happened in these months, and it didn't break you. it only left you more empty. 

you looked down at the messaging app. the chat with yeonjun was still pinned to the top, little ‘3w’ at the top right corner mocking you. i'll unpin it later, you thought, moving your gaze lower. there was one unread message from ‘jaeyong’. “will be there in an hour, baby ;)”, sent twenty minutes ago. you almost made a face at the word ‘baby’—only yeonjun didn’t make it sound cringe. you hadn't even met the guy yet, you matched with him on tinder a few days ago. surprisingly so, because you were ready to give up, as you kept comparing everyone to yeonjun, and of course, no one was ever close. you weren't even sure how you swiped that one right, probably by accident, but you did. maybe it was destiny?

the ice cream cafe you agreed to meet at was nice, as you had seen it daily on your way to work and were a regular during certain periods, visiting almost daily. they offered a variety of tasty treats, so you didn't have to limit yourself to just ice cream alone. the workers were always friendly too despite the constant stream of customers, but you knew quieter hours as a person who sometimes stayed extra hours at work. or as someone who spent countless days in the area, you realized as your gaze fell upon the window table you and yeonjun used to sit in the late evenings, laughing at each other's poor ice cream flavour choices.

when jaeyong asked you if you had any preferences for the meeting place, you named that cafe without any second thought—he was a stranger and you didn't want to meet him somewhere near your house, but you didn't want to go to an unfamiliar area either. he didn't know where you were working too except brief occupation description, so a cafe not so far from work seemed safe. it felt safe too, but for a completely different reason than you initially thought. it wasn't about the familiar area or the familiar workers; it was about the safety and peace you felt when you were there with yeonjun.

you had to gather some strength to tear your eyes away from the table you two used to occupy regularly and choose another table. you sat down and put your purse on your knees, checking your watch. you were a few minutes early, and it made you uneasy—were you supposed to be a bit late? was it expected from you as some… unspoken rule? should you have waited outside? but it was drizzling lightly, it might ruin your hair or make up. were these good even? yeonjun barely cared if you were barefaced and wore a ponytail, a braid or a bun, so over the months you had gotten out of the habit of dolling yourself up when it wasn't necessary.

but it was necessary now. and you had to stop thinking about yeonjun. you inhaled and exhaled slowly—he was a finished chapter in your life, and you had to move on. you had a date with another man. even if that one didn’t work out, it was a start already. the first step was always the hardest one, and you hoped that this first step would at least help you realize what you were looking for—something that wasn’t just ‘yeonjun’. 

but jaeyong turned out to be… not exactly what you expected. he was a bit late, but you greeted him with a wide smile nevertheless, getting up to hold out your hand to shake his. his cute apologetic smile fell, and he shook your hand awkwardly. you mentally slapped yourself—you had no idea what he expected you to do, but it probably wasn't a handshake that was usually exchanged only between men. you sat back down, nervousness coming back, as you pulled your chair closer to the table, which made him raise his eyebrow. of course. minus another point—you were supposed to let him pull your chair out instead of doing it yourself. 

by the time you finished your dessert, you lost count of how many points you lost. you came up to the counter to order your food yourself instead of telling him so he could order for you both. you paid for your coffee and dessert. you sat on your own again, because you forgot he tried so hard to be a gentleman. you probably ate and drank in some wrong way, but you couldn’t understand what exactly you did wrong—you didn’t talk with your mouth full and didn’t laugh like a hyena at his latte moustaches, showing it subtly on yourself to give him a hint. was that wrong?..

but it wasn’t the worst part of the date. you thought nothing could be worse than being silently judged for every little thing, but then he started talking about his ex. how she wanted to focus on her career instead of giving birth to a few precious babies and become a housewife, while he would work hard to support them all. she had told him that from the beginning, but he was sure she would change her mind—all women did, it was their role after all. he said he was on the verge of achieving it, but she broke up with him for something trivial. you were too close to losing another few points for the sake of checking your tinder profile in the middle of the conversation—you were sure you had ‘don’t want to have kids yet’ there. 

you throw a quick glance outside the window. the rain was pouring now and you didn’t have an umbrella—you hadn’t checked the forecast and had to use your jacket to cover your head when the drizzle started on your way here. and you obviously didn’t have a ride home or at least to the nearby subway station, leaving you with only option—losing a few more points by getting a taxi on your own instead of letting jaeyong get it for you. he was too much of a creep to know even the street you were living on. 

your gaze moved to the window table once again. you never realized how easy it was with yeonjun despite that ‘friends with benefits’ thing complicating everything. at least it was safe with him, and even when he was unpredictable, he was unpredictable in the best way possible. not to mention all the other things that made him so much better than the man sitting across from you now. you pressed your lips together—you missed him, missed the way you felt when you were with him, even though you were sure you’d get your heart broken at some point. but maybe you were just biased toward jaeyong, because your brain still was occupied with thoughts of yeonjun?..

suddenly, your date fell silent. right, not paying attention, minus another point. you suppressed the urge to sigh and looked back at him, hands fidgeting with an empty cup, the textured print feeling nice under your fingers. he threw a quick glance at your hands—minus one more point?—before continuing where he left off, probably launching into another story about why another woman was a gold digger for paying for herself on a date with him. you had abandoned hope of finding any sense in his life views long ago, so you just let his words wash over you without truly listening. 

the bell over the door rang softly, announcing another customer coming in. you looked up, curious about the other lost soul who ended up being in this cafe instead of the warmth of their home, and froze. the person's back was turned to you as they put their umbrella into the stand, but you could swear it was him. his hair was shorter, much shorter, not covering his neck anymore, a neat undercut looking foreign on him—he had one long before you met, you saw photos, but you never saw it in real life. but it was undoubtedly him. yeonjun.

your certainty didn't help you, though, when he turned and looked at you immediately—there was no one else in the cafe after all, of course he looked at you. his face looked different somehow with the shorter hair, but he still was your yeonjun. your heart skipped a beat when your eyes met. he was shocked, his eyes huge and mouth agape, but his expression changed when he noticed a man sitting across from you. his gaze hardened, and he pressed his lips together. yeonjun understood it was a date, he wasn't dumb, but he didn't have time to mourn his heart, because his subconscious threw a huge ‘attention!’ sign at him, making him pause to understand what his gut was trying to tell him.

yeonjun wanted to leave—his house was nearby, and he could make coffee himself and maybe grab an ice cream tub from the convenience store on the way there. but you looked… wrong. something was wrong about you. he felt like it took him a few eternities to realize you were uncomfortable—he rarely saw you like this, you were always at ease with him, barely ever tense, nervous or anxious, but you were all of those now, and he knew he couldn't leave you like that. he had to make sure you were safe, if your date turned out to be a creep, not to mention his umbrella was the only one in the stand, meaning you didn't bring yours, and the rain wouldn't stop until tomorrow morning. 

he took his jacket off, purposefully hanging it on the floor hanger next to yours—even closer than the jacket of your date. you noticed it with the corner of your eyes, despite looking at jaeyong and trying not to make him suspicious. you knew yeonjun was making a statement with it—”i'm here, i'm next to you, i'm not going anywhere”—even though he was clearly upset with you. you could see it perfectly. he wasn't upset with you very often, but you had seen it enough when it came to other people getting on his nerves.

but you still felt at ease just from seeing yeonjun deciding not to leave you alone. he noticed it too—maybe he rarely ever saw you uncomfortable, but the relief written all over your face and body was a stark contrast to the way you looked when he first walked in. he barely glanced at the cashier while ordering his usual—iced americano and mint choco ice cream—his gaze never leaving you even when you weren’t looking at him directly. he knew you could still see him over your date’s shoulder. 

yeonjun chose a place to sit with the same intent—he took a table in the corner just near the counter, positioning himself so you could see him fully without it being obvious, and so he could keep you in his sight. he was thankful the three of you were the only people in the cafe, allowing him to hear every little thing your date said to you—and he sounded like a misogynistic piece of shit. yeonjun wanted nothing more than to just drag you away from the man. no woman should ever listen to something like that. he shook the thought ‘especially mine’ away—you weren’t his anymore. never had been. 

it was taking you too long to end the date, when you obviously weren't interested, yeonjun noticed after fifteen more minutes of listening to more of that asshole’s bullshit. then it hit him—this might be the first time you were dealing with a douchebag like that one, and you had no idea how to handle it. yeonjun’s palms pressed against the table, ready to stand, when he heard something that made his blood boil.

“are you a virgin, by the way? should have asked you from the start.” 

your hands froze on your cup. what did he just ask? was it that important? you didn’t know how to respond. no, of course, you knew that you weren’t one, but the question felt absurd—something no one should ask on the first date unless it really mattered to them. and if it did… he probably wasn’t concerned about taking your virginity, you doubted he thought it was too much of a bother, or that he was looking for an experienced woman only. he wanted a virgin.

why it’s taking you so long to tell him to fuck off, gosh! yeonjun groaned internally, stomping toward your table. he grabbed your wrist, fingers digging into your skin—gesture comforting for both you and yeonjun in some weird way. with a sharp tug, he pulled you out of your seat, not even sparing a glance at the piece of shit you were on a date with—yeonjun knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from punching that asshole if he so much as looked at him. he didn’t say anything to you either—not because he didn’t want to, but because he was afraid of what might spill out in his frustration and anger.

but you didn’t need him to say anything—you followed him obediently to the coat rack, where he grabbed both of your jackets in one hand. he pulled you toward the exit, throwing a short ‘umbrella’ over his shoulder, and you grabbed it from the stand, turning back only to offer the cashier an apologetic smile and a small nod goodbye. he knew you two, often being the one on the shift when you visited the cafe, and while that behaviour wasn’t regular for you two, he’d overheard the conversation and understood what was happening. he was ready to step in if needed, but he was relieved he didn’t have to, because it could have costed him his job. 

yeonjun held the door for you, even though he was still holding your wrist and pulling you outside himself, and you realized he never had to try hard to be a gentleman—he always was one. he stopped under the canopy next to the window, making sure you were protected from the rain until he could open the umbrella and take you home—he turned his back to the wind, shielding you from the cold raindrops, blocking them from hitting you, his jacket hung over his shoulder carelessly freeing his hands so he could put your jacket on you.

his actions weren't gentleman-like—he didn’t hold your jacket, gracefully standing behind your back and carefully pulling it up your arms until it was fully on. yeonjun was sharp with his movements, almost yanking the umbrella from your hand and hooking it over his forearm, as he put the jacket behind you waiting for you to put your arms into the sleeves, trapping you between it and himself. you weren’t against it though, feeling safe for the first time in hours, and feeling like home for the first time in almost a month, as you felt him pull it up sharply to cover your back and shoulders before grabbing his own jacket. 

you took the umbrella from yeonjun and opened it, holding it behind his back to shield him from the rain as he slipped into his jacket. he glanced at you, surprised, but you met his gaze with a soft smile, happy to be near him again and trying not to think about the conversation awaiting for you at his apartment—it wouldn’t be nice, it would be the one that would end everything between you two. so for now you wanted to enjoy the little warmth and care you had for each other while it lasted, you were going to burn each one of his words into your brain and each of his touch into your skin, so you could hear and feel it for months.

yeonjun took the umbrella back—much softer already—when he was done with the jacket, holding it between your bodies to cover you both from the rain before stepping out of the canopy and walking you to his apartment. despite him trying his best to navigate the umbrella so you were protected from the cold rain, he noticed the shoulder that was further from him getting wet—the wind was too strong, and even though the umbrella was huge, you had to be closer to him to get a bit more covered. he would have easily held the umbrella over you only, going under the rain himself, but he knew you would never let him, he always had to agree with your stubbornness when it came to his well-being. 

“wrap your arm around my waist,” yeonjun said, realizing he sounded sharper than he intended. he was still upset about the way you just sat there listening to bullshit about women’s worth being measured in amount of children and how much she served her husband. he knew it didn’t make sense to be mad at you, because it wasn't your fault in the slightest, but there was something much bigger. 

you were on a date. with someone else. 

you had distanced yourself from him after the expired pregnancy test incident, not letting him in no matter how much he tried to make you talk to him, and he started shutting down too. you both had suffered for weeks like that until everything ended with some stupid text message about the hoodie you lost, asking him if it was at his place. and then, three weeks later, he found you having a date with some asshole at the cafe he started considering as a place for the two of you only. yeonjun knew it was his rule to not catch feelings, he knew he was being unfair to you by feeling that way, but he couldn’t stop the frustration spiraling inside of him.

even the way you wrapped your arm around his waist like he told you to, your hand holding the side of his jacket, didn’t help. he still put his hand over yours, interlacing fingers with yours and putting your hands together into his pocket, though—the place your hand was at was constantly under rain, and he didn’t want you to get cold, no matter how upset he was. or how much it went against any rules you seemed so determined to follow, yet failed to uphold. he was breaking them, and you were letting him—just like now, not pulling your hand away from his grasp. did you even remember there was a rule against intimate touches like this one?

were you breaking the rules on purpose too, just like he was? were you capable of breaking the most important one—the one that was about being exclusive? yeonjun’s jaw tightened as he threw a quick glance at you, when he felt your steps falter slightly for a moment. he thought that you might stumble, but instead you made a small, quick step instead of a regular one to match his stride. you did it often—not falling into step with him, but adjusting yourself to match him like it was natural for you, effortless. now, though, it seemed like you were ready to just throw it all away as something you didn’t need anymore. his throat tightened, and he swallowed hard, his grip on your hand tightening briefly before he caught himself and loosened it.

yeonjun had noticed how much you’d changed these few months before the pregnancy test, when he started changing too—you’d become softer with him, a bit more reserved, but still softer. you had also grown more obedient—not that you hadn’t been before, but now you seemed to do what he wanted or needed without him having to say anything most of the time. it was probably another way you adjusted yourself for him. but he had to be too cautious around you, holding back his own softness and tenderness sometimes, because you had developed a habit of pulling away when he was too gentle. he couldn’t get his head around you, and holding back and overthinking were tiring.

and then he had said he wouldn’t leave if you were pregnant, words about marriage slipping out on its own. his only intention was to calm you down—he wasn't lying, of course. he was ready to take responsibility, to support and love you and the baby if it came to that. but it felt like he had ruined everything. this time, though, he was sure he knew why. he knew you didn’t want children—not yet, at least—and though you two never had never discussed anything like marriage, he assumed you weren’t interested in a long-term relationship either, and he only pushed you away with his words, making you seek someone who would be able to keep ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement as it was supposed to be. 

and now? now, you were here, arm wrapped around his waist, your hand warm, nice and gentle in his, fingers interlaced. you weren’t just letting him hold you close—you were holding onto him too. you weren’t simply allowing him to hold your hand; you held it just as tight, your thumb brushing against his skin, and yeonjun wasn’t sure if you were doing it on purpose or not. you two looked like a couple, yet to him, it felt more like a cruel echo of something that could have been but was never destined to happen—he clenched his teeth, irritation bubbling in his chest at the way you played push and pull with him now. 

yeonjun could still picture your eyes when you realized he chose to stay in the cafe instead of leaving you alone with that asshole. you had looked at him like he was your saviour—as if he’d been the knight who swooped in to save the princess, despite the ‘knight’ looking like he had just woken up after thirteen hours of sleep on the couch, throwing on a jacket and shoes over the hoodie and sweatpants he was sleeping in, to grab coffee at the cafe nearby. but knights never got princesses, did they? no, that was reserved for princes. knights were just tools that came in handy when princesses needed to use someone. knights were disposable. 

was he just the lesser evil for you back there? would you have pretended he wasn’t there if your date hadn’t turned out to be such a creep? part of him was convinced you would have, despite the rational part of his brain trying to make him realize it wasn’t like you at all. why would you follow him to his place instead of asking him to get you to the nearest subway station? why would you hold his hand like this? why would you seem so relaxed beside him now? because she wants to toy with me some more, yeonjun thought bitterly, yanking your hands out of his pocket and letting go of yours. 

you looked up at him, surprised, already missing the warmth of his touch—the short walk hadn’t been enough for that warmth to burn itself into your skin the way you needed it to, but if he thought it was enough… you held yourself back from reaching for his hand again—he was clearly upset with you, and you didn't want to play with fire. you weren't sure why he would bring you here then, though. no, it was obvious he just didn't want to cause a scene outside, but was there any point in in trying to talk things through if the end result was the same—breaking up… whatever you had?

yeonjun yanked the front door of the building open, following you right behind to hold the umbrella over you until you were safely inside, shielded from the rain. he shook the raindrops off harshly, closing the umbrella and standing a few feet away from you, facing the elevators after checking that you had pressed the button. he turned his head slightly, avoiding even a glance at you from the corner of his eyes—it was too painful and too irritating at the same time. the silence hung heavily, and he exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding when the elevator doors opened with a quiet ‘ding’. he stepped aside to let you enter first, following after and pressing the button for his floor, turning his back to you immediately. 

you thought nothing could make an elevator ride with yeonjun longer and more unbearable than wanting to have your hands all over each other already, but having to limit yourselves to subtle touches because of the elevator cameras. but now, awkwardness and yeonjun's simmering anger stretched the seconds into eternity. you pressed yourself into the corner, silently wishing it'd just swallow you, your eyes trailing yeonjun standing before the doors, refusing to look at you. your gaze fell to the nape of his neck—his hair was so short there now… he had kept the bangs, and had shortened hair on top of his head just a bit—it still covered his temples, but you could see hair there was just as short when he ran his fingers through it, which he did often. tips of your fingers itched to touch it, but you held back—you couldn't do things like that anymore.

the little screen finally displayed yeonjun's floor number, and you moved forward at the same time as he stepped aside to give you room to leave the elevator. the ‘ladies first’ gesture would have been flattering if it wasn't for his step being a little too big, as if he was trying to keep as much distance as the small space allowed. it hurt, even though his intentions to stay away from you were obvious by the way he was keeping his distance in the hall. you still couldn’t understand why he brought you here—you could as well finish everything in ugly way through messages, there was no need to see each other’s faces.

you exited the elevator, stepping aside to let yeonjun go first—you no longer had the keys, they were left dangling on the key rack in his apartment some time before the last conversation. you weren’t sure why you had done it, though—he had never made you feel unwelcome there, but once again, you had done lots of stupid things lately, once that felt right at the time, but grew increasingly stupid with every second you thought about it, so you decided to simply stop thinking about everything you did. childish? pretty much, but compared to watching yourself destroy everything with your own hands, it felt like the lesser evil.

yeonjun opened the door, letting you step inside first, and locked it behind you. he placed the umbrella in its stand and crouched down to undo his shoes, still not saying a word to you. his mind was restless, every glance at you sinking another dagger into his chest and fueling his anger. you stood before him, your legs right in front of his eyes, your short sundress—one of his favourites, the one you started wearing more often after he told you he loved the way it looked on you—barely covering any skin, especially from his current angle. he jerked his head downward, jaw tightening. his favourite dress… on a date… in his favourite cafe… with some misogynistic asshole. 

yeonjun stood up and made a few steps further into the apartment, his socks slipping slightly against the floor. he shrugged off his damp jacket carelessly, hanging it on the hook, before finally turning to look at you. his gaze caught the mirror on the inside of the door over your shoulder though, and he double-checked his reflection instinctively. he had cut his hair just a few days ago and still couldn’t get used to the way he looked. his own reflection felt like a stranger, whenever he saw it with the corner of his eyes. there was no long hair he had been growing out for a year anymore. he decided to go back to the undercut he had as his go-to hairstyle for a few years before meeting you. his hair already started growing out when you met, and somehow, when you stayed in his life as his friend with benefits he let it keep growing, trimming it from time to time a bit. 

and when you left… yeonjun wasn’t sure why he had cut it. maybe it was an attempt to return the person he had been before meeting you—someone less broken, less hollow, no matter how stupid it sounded if he thought about it for more than a minute. not even because his hairstyle and your presence hadn’t been the only things different from the past—too many things had changed this year—but because it’d never be enough to erase every reminder of you from his life, which had been the real reason of him cutting his hair off, even though he refused to admit it to himself even. he hadn’t even done anything else, cutting his hair was the only thing that he had done, because he couldn’t get rid of other little things that reminded him of you. and ridiculously enough, the undercut became another reminder—he thought of you whenever he saw his reflection or touched his hair. 

yeonjun tore his gaze away from the mirror, finally looking at you. you were standing near the door, your jacket and shoes still on, leaving faint, wet marks on the doormat, your hands fidgeting with the clasp of your purse. you looked so small, so vulnerable, like someone who needed to be protected every moment of their life. he couldn’t believe you had gone on a date with a stranger—with some jerk, who just saw you—or any woman—as an incubator, but the incubator had to be a virgin, of course, of course. it sounded ridiculous and disgusting even in his own head, and yet you had been sitting there, listening to all that bullshit, like it was completely fine. 

“why didn’t you say anything?” the words came out bitter and sharp, yeonjun wasn’t even going to ask that—he knew why and he knew it wasn’t your fault, but the words left his mouth before he could think about it. his fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms as he tried to keep his voice steady, though he knew it was a losing battle. “back there. to that asshole.” 

you frowned, looking up at him in confusion. he knew why you hadn’t said anything, why you hadn’t done anything. he had stayed and stepped in exactly because he knew. did he want you to say it out loud? to admit that you had been absolutely helpless and would have had to ask the cashier for help if things escalated? to confess that you would have kept listening to all that misogynistic trash if he hadn’t dragged you out? 

“because i didn’t know what to say,” you responded quietly, your nails biting into your palms. “if it wasn’t for you—”

something snapped in yeonjun at the sound of your voice after three weeks of only hearing it in old voice messages. he appeared before you in just a few swift steps, pressing your back into the mirror on the inside of the front door with one smooth motion—you couldn't even comprehend what happened until you felt a sharp bite on the side of your neck and his cold hand, the one that had been holding the umbrella, running up your thigh, leaving faint red lines with nails and lifting the skirt of your sundress before delivering a hard, sharp slap to your skin. you yelped and jerked, never expecting it, arms wrapping around his shoulders, but he only pressed you harder into the front door with his body, thigh pushing between your legs, and his second hand finding its place on your breast, kneading it roughly.

it was far from the first time something similar happened—yeonjun had gone through a stressful period when you both decided to try the ‘friends with benefits’ agreement, and you found yourself with your face pressed against a random surface as he pounded you into it until your legs were sore, quite often. the front door too, of course—it had been a favourite of his in the beginning, chosen for its speed and convenience. but that was the thing—in the beginning. later, you admitted it was far from your favourite place—the mirror was uncomfortably cold at first and then weirdly warm under your cheek, chest or shoulder blades, and it made a weird screeching sound whenever your skin rubbed against it, and you couldn't stop thinking about people passing by. it had been the last time you had sex or even made out there. until now.

yeonjun didn't leave a small gentle kiss over the bite on your neck too, his hand didn't linger to soothe the slapped skin of your thigh, even for a moment. he jerked your skirt up too sharply, cursing at the way it got in the way between his thigh and your crotch, and when he finally managed to pull it high enough to his liking, he slapped your thigh once again to silently command you to lift your leg over his waist—instead of wrapping his fingers around your thigh and lifting it himself like he had started doing not so long ago. you loved when he was like that back then, loved all of it, but now, compared to the way you knew he could be with you, it was almost devastating. 

deep inside you hoped to have sex with him just one last time before your paths parted for good, but this… this wasn’t what you expected, not what you wanted. you didn’t want to feel like you were back to square one, no matter how hot he looked now or had been in the beginning, because back then you were nothing to each other—except ‘friends with benefits’. yeonjun meant much more for you now, and deep down, you hoped you had grown to mean more to him too, but perhaps you didn’t know him well enough to know what his mixed signals meant. 

yeonjun cursed breathlessly into the skin of your shoulder, and it was the first time since he pushed you into the mirror that he allowed himself to touch your skin with his lips alone, without using his teeth. just that simple gesture made him dizzy—being tender with you again. he had another problem, though—no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't seem to get fully hard. yeonjun had no idea why—you finally were next to him, your arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, as he marked you like it was the last time— it was, he realized. it was the last time, and he couldn’t even fuck you properly so you wouldn’t think of anyone else no matter how much other men tried to please you. it irritated him even more, but he hoped his thigh would suffice—he had always been able to make you cum on it easily. 

you heard another curse from him, barely heard over your racing thoughts. you were far from understanding the reason behind it—probably something about you again. was it better than nothing? better than just having an awkward conversation about ending the arrangement and never seeing each other ever again? never— you couldn’t hold back the sniffle, your nose starting to burn as tears welled up in your eyes. you put your palms on yeonjun’s shoulders. no. you didn’t want to remember your last encounter like this, because you remembered the way your sexual encounters ended in the very beginning. one of you—the one who was a ‘guest’—would dress up in silence, get a taxi for themselves and leave the apartment, shutting the door for the other one to lock later. that didn’t last long, but if he was back to the very beginning… you knew you wouldn’t be able to leave his bed. 

another quiet sniffle left you, as you tried to push yeonjun away by his shoulders. “yeonjun, please,” your voice was too quiet, too small—you weren’t even sure if he had heard you, and even if he did, he might misinterpret it as you asking for more, because he pressed you harder into the mirror, rubbing his thigh against your crotch. “jjun, s-stop,” you sobbed out, fingers digging into the fabric of his hoodie, silently begging him to put an end to this confusing, heart-wrenching encounter.

yeonjun froze at the nickname said like that—with a sob—his body tense. had he hurt you?.. had he ruined everything? of course, he did, what a failure he was. he failed himself, but it didn’t matter because he failed you so much more. “i’m sorry, baby,” yeonjun whispered into your skin one last time before moving away and turning his back to you. he couldn’t look at you—not now, not like this. he didn’t deserve to. he was glad you stopped him before he went too far, because he knew he’d break if he continued, but he was too stubborn to stop on his own. to end everything himself too. 

you stood frozen behind him, his absence hitting you like a blow despite you being the one who pushed him away, a gaping hole replaced his presence. it wasn’t just your body that felt cold; it seeped into your skin, into your bones. you’d never felt so empty in your life. it wasn’t fair. none of this was fair. was that it? the end? were you supposed to turn around, open the door, and leave, acting like nothing had ever happened? was that what yeonjun expected you to do? not even a ‘goodbye’?.. you stared at his back, not being able to believe he wouldn’t turn around to at least look at you one last time. 

but even with all the confusion and insecurity, you didn’t want to leave. the thought of walking out that door, of leaving him behind, felt like tearing a piece of yourself away. you weren’t ready to let go, weren’t ready to forget everything. the only thing that was holding you back from telling him it was certainty that yeonjun wanted you to leave, but maybe—just maybe—there was a tiny possibility that he wanted you to stay? maybe finding someone else for this kind of relationship was too bothersome for his busy life? maybe you could push your feelings away?

yeonjun’s mind raced just as much, each second of silence stretching unbearably long. the absence of any sound from you was deafening. were you going to leave? why hadn’t you left already if you wanted to, so he could mourn his heart in peace? maybe you didn’t want to— he clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. stop being an idiot, yeonjun. of course, she does. he wanted to turn around and tell you that he didn’t want you to leave, that he didn’t want it to end, wanted to promise you to keep everything in the ‘friends with benefits’ limits, never breaking any rules ever again. but words stuck in his throat, weighed down by the fear of rejection, of hearing you say out loud that you didn’t want him anymore.

his heart shattered when he heard the sound of the door being unlocked. this was finally it—the moment he’d feared. you pulled the door handle down, and… and he didn’t hear the door open. you didn’t open the door, but you didn’t let go of the handle either, frozen right before the final step. you knew he wouldn’t go after you—if you left now, it would be the end. you looked down at your fingers wrapped around the shiny metal. no. it was unfair, it was wrong—too many things you left unsaid, and he could be the same. you tried to think for him, assume what he wanted, and it was wrong. and even if he  just laughed in your face, it wouldn’t make your heartbreak much worse anyway. 

you let go of the door handle, letting it click back into place, and turned to yeonjun. he didn’t look back, didn’t turn around, but you noticed he was even more tense than before—probably not knowing what to expect. you cleared your throat, but it didn’t help, because your small “is this the end?” was barely audible, all the confidence you’d mastered just a few seconds ago disappearing the moment you opened your mouth to ask something that felt like it’d seal your fate.

but yeonjun heard it, of course, he did. he’d been waiting to hear your voice from the moment he turned away. he had to almost force himself to shut his damn mouth before he said ‘yes’, thinking it'd be best for you to stay away from someone as broken as him. you deserved to hear an honest response, even if your reaction to it broke his heart. yeonjun knew he had to stop deciding what was best for you—you were an adult, capable of making your own mistakes. if you let him stay in your life, he would simply help you deal with the consequences if you needed it. and maybe staying with him wasn’t even a mistake in the first place. 

yeonjun turned around and it felt like he hadn’t seen you for the whole eternity. he knew you hadn't left, but seeing you there… he wanted nothing more than to hold you and never let go. but he couldn’t. and he couldn’t say the truth openly either—he was afraid to influence your decision if he said he didn’t want it to end, so he tried to phrase it differently. “if you want to,” yeonjun knew it wasn’t his best, far from one actually, but it was better than anything he could come up with—much better than ‘yes, it is’. you didn’t reply, though, staring at him like your head was completely empty, panic rising in your expression. yeonjun swallowed thickly. “do you want to leave?” he asked, trying to help you.

the answer was so simple, just two letters—’no’. but somehow, every little thing about that short word was so complicated, and it was stuck on your tongue, because just ‘no’ wouldn’t be enough to explain everything. but yeonjun was waiting, and even though he tried his best not to show how anxious he was to hear your answer, you could tell he was. “i don’t know,” the words left your mouth before you could think them through. it was a lie, a goddamn lie. you knew! you knew you didn’t want to leave, why in the world would you say you didn’t? 

yeonjun watched the whole kaleidoscope of emotions on your face, and none of them were positive. you looked on the verge of tears even. this was the moment he realized he had changed, because the storm in his heart had finally calmed, and he knew everything he needed to know. it wasn’t even because your face had told him that your words weren’t what you actually meant, but because in the past, he’d have gotten frustrated, angry even because it wasn’t a clear ‘no’. but now? now, even if you really didn’t know, he could only feel a wave of calmness wash over him, because he couldn’t see it as anything except ‘not a yes’. 

you saw the tension leave yeonjun’s body—his posture relaxed and his face softened—and that’s when you realized you’d fucked up bad. he didn’t like unclear answers, always trying to guide you to give him a certain one. unsure about trying something new? he’d say he’d start slowly until you got your head around it and told him explicit yes or no. confused about your feelings? he’d listen to your unstructured stream of thoughts, gently guiding it when you got lost, until you could give him an answer. but now? now he was probably too tired of your shit to do any of that. 

yeonjun approached you in a few huge steps, towering over you—you felt smaller than you actually were, looking at him with wide eyes, unsure of what to expect. was he going to open the door and tell you to get out? you pressed yourself against it, palms flat on the cool surface of the mirror you hated touching, the uncomfortable feeling only worsening the anxiety in your chest. he raised his hand and you turned your head slowly to follow the movement with your eyes, your insides twisting in anxiety—you should have left instead of asking that stupid question, because maybe there could’ve been a chance to start over a few months from now, but you had ruined it with that stupid ‘i don’t know’.

you looked adorable when you were scared, yeonjun realized. a flicker of a smirk crossed his mind—maybe he should introduce you to some fear play. he slapped himself mentally—he was so relieved that you hadn’t left, that his mind started wandering, and it clearly wasn’t time for that. his hand reached for the lock, fingers curling around it, and he turned it slowly, the click loud in the tense air. his gaze stayed fixed on your face—he wanted to see your reaction. maybe he was petty, but only a little, and you weren’t entirely innocent either. 

and he was right to do it. your eyes shot up to meet his the second you heard the lock engage, surprise and disbelief flickering across your face, your gaze darted between his eyes as if trying to find cruel mockery in them, but there was none. instead, yeonjun took a small step back from you, his fingers brushing the back of your hand so feathery, that it could’ve been easily mistaken for an accident, but it wasn’t one. he needed at least a little touch, even that one grounding him, giving him strength to hold up until he could hold you in his arms properly—somehow, he was certain that’s how the day would end. 

“let’s go,” he said softly, choosing his tone carefully to avoid sounding harsh or scolding—adding to your anxiety was the last thing he wanted to do. “i’ll make us tea, and we will talk.”

you nodded hesitantly, watching his back as yeonjun left to the kitchen. it was a good sign, wasn’t it?.. you felt glued to the door, needing all your strength to peel yourself away. slowly, you removed your jacket, still unsure if he truly hadn’t told you to leave. your hands shook as you hung it on an empty hook beside his jackets, your gaze drifted to the key rack—the spare keys you had for months still dangling where you put them. you sat on the bench to undo your shoes, throwing a quick glance toward the kitchen through the archway—you couldn't see yeonjun, but you could hear the sound of cabinets opening and closing, the kettle filling with water and other little things. the noises brought comfort, feeling like home. 

your legs felt like jelly as you made your way to the bar stool behind him, your nails tapping nervously on the polished surface of the bar table . yeonjun sent you a little smile over his shoulder before turning back and continuing whatever he was doing. you assumed he was choosing which tea to make for you, and you decided not to interfere—he knew your favourites. and you were too awkward to tell him anything too, even just asking for a specific kind of tea felt… out of place.  

yeonjun opened a cabinet to grab a cup for you, and your eyes landed on all the familiar dishes—your cups, plates, and bowls still sat neatly alongside his. he hadn’t put them away when you stopped coming over all those weeks ago. you looked around the kitchen and the living room—everything still looked like you were living there. you hadn’t noticed it in the hallway, too shaken to pay any attention to it, but now you realized he kept a few hooks empty for your outerwear and bags, the spot you always took on the shoe rack wasn’t taken either, and even the spare keys to his apartment still had your keychain on them. 

your gaze stopped on the fridge, colourful letters bright on the glassy black surface. you couldn’t believe it still was there—’yeonjun dummy <3’, the playful phrase you made two or three months ago with letter magnets he bought for his little nephew—sometimes yeonjun’s cousin needed him to look after the boy and dropped the baby off at his place, and yeonjun wanted to be the best uncle ever, teaching the child all the little things like colours, animals and letters. you had been helping too sometimes, and you realized now how strange it probably looked—helping him play house with a toddler as though the two of you were a family. you shook your head trying to get rid of the thoughts. your gaze drifted lower—yeonjun’s response was still there too—’you too :p’.

so many little things stayed the same despite your absence, all of them so tiny you could barely notice unless you were looking for them, yet it felt like you could move in right now, live here for a month and wouldn’t lack a thing, because yeonjun had kept everything just as it was when you were still there. he either didn’t care to change it, or… your apartment stayed the same too—he never stayed at yours for too long, but his tableware was still next to yours, his toothbrush and toothpaste still were in the cup with yours, his shampoo and shower gel sat on the shower rack with other things that belonged to him. looking at those reminders of him hurt, but you couldn’t bring yourself to put them away. deep inside, you had hoped he would still come and stay at your place some day, and maybe he kept everything as it was because…

“i don’t want to, but if you want me to, i will,” you blurted out before you could overthink it. if you didn’t say it now, while your feelings were on the surface and at their peak, you would probably never say it.

yeonjun looked at you over his shoulder, confused. you didn't want to… drink tea?.. it wasn’t a problem, he assumed, still not really understanding why you would drink tea just because he wanted you to. he could make you a coffee. or a milkshake, or a smoothie, or just give you water. or he still had almost every one of your favourite drinks in his fridge—and out of it too, in case you didn’t want to drink anything cold. he glanced at the almost-finished tea on the counter in front of him. were you worried that he’d already made it, but now you wanted something else? he could drink it himself… he opened his mouth to ask what you wanted to drink instead, or maybe eat, but you clarified yourself.

“to leave,” you said, looking down at your fingers as you fidgeted nervously. “i don’t want to leave, but if you want me to, i will,” you repeated,  your voice grew quieter with every word, much less confident than it had been at the start—not that it was confident to begin with. you didn’t want to leave, didn’t want him to tell you to go, but if he thought it was better for him, you’d disappear from his life as if you had never been part of it.

yeonjun, on the other hand, felt warmth spreading through his whole body. he was one step away from grinning like a fool, smile bloomed on his face despite himself. yes, he had figured out you didn’t want to leave when you looked like you made the biggest mistake of your life by saying that you didn’t know if you wanted to leave or not. but hearing you say it out loud was completely different. “i don’t,” he said, turning to you with a smile, two cups of tea in his hands. “don’t want you to leave.”

you nodded slowly, watching him take a seat across from you and place your cup in front you. you still had a hard time believing he wanted you to stay. when you said you didn’t want to leave, you meant his life, not his apartment. did he understand what you meant? did he mean the same?.. you reached out to wrap your hands around the cup but jerked them back before touching it. you looked up at yeonjun, ashamed. “i haven’t washed my hands. can i… use the bathroom?” 

he tilted his head. you’d particularly lived here for some periods, why would you ask him something like that?.. “of course, you can,” yeonjun said like it was the most obvious thing—because it was. “there’s a hand soap too,” he gestured toward the kitchen sink, “along with a hand towel. as you know,” he chuckled, emphasising the last words. “feel at home, okay? nothing has changed.” he watched you get up with a quiet ‘okay’ and come up to the sink. yeonjun turned in his seat, watching you with a soft smile on his face. “but you can use bathroom if you need it for—”

“yeonjun!” you exclaimed, cutting him off and making him laugh—you thought you had missed that sound, but now you realized ‘miss’ didn’t cover it—your life just wasn't full without it. “i only need to wash my hands!” 

he replied with a teasing ‘mhm’, a smile wide on his face, and you couldn't help but smile back. the little light-hearted exchange made you relax a little—it reminded you both that despite the mess, you were still the same. you just weren't sure if ‘the mess’ had started three weeks ago or ten months ago, and the conversation that would clarify it was still waiting ahead. you bit your lip at the thought, sitting back down and wrapping fingers around the cup. 

yeonjun became serious too. he knew he'd have to be the one carrying the conversation, because his thoughts and feelings were clear and organized—he’d had three weeks to analyze everything, and your words today cleared the last fog, putting the final misplaced pieces in their places. you, on the other hand… you still looked confused, even after admitting you didn't want to leave and him saying he didn't want you to leave either. and with your habit of sweeping the worst of your feelings and thoughts under the rug and pretending they never existed, unless he lifted the rug himself, telling you to clean up and helping you with it… he assumed how exactly these three weeks had passed for you.

“do you mind if we focus on you at first?” yeonjun asked, his voice as soft as possible, as though speaking to a child or a frightened animal—he didn't want you to feel like he was scolding you for anything, no matter how much it hurt him. it was his fault too—he was the one who had drawn the line between you two with his stupid rules, resulting in you not being able to come to him when the thing burdening you was about him. the rules made sense at first, but he should’ve blurred them when he began suspecting you were slowly catching feelings, and discarded them completely when he realized he was catching feelings himself. he hadn’t, and it was a miracle you were sitting there in front of him now.

you shook your head, giving him all the control. not only did you feel guilty enough to think you had no right to set the rules, but you were also lost—unsure of what to say, where to start, or what he wanted to know the most. you decided to let him lead you through it, answering his questions to the best of your capability and honesty. you only hoped he wouldn't start with something like ‘what do you feel for me’ or anything similar, because you knew you wouldn't be able to give him an answer—you barely admitted it to yourself, saying it out loud… to him…

yeonjun smiled. “okay. but be honest, please.” he waited for your nod before continuing. he prayed he wouldn't sound like he was interrogating you. “it was a date, right? not just a friendly meeting?” he cursed internally—he sounded exactly like he was interrogating you. now he prayed you wouldn't see it that way, because it wasn’t meant to be an interrogation—he just needed to know what you were looking for when you went on the date. 

you nodded, eyes glued to the cup in your hands. you felt ashamed—like a cheater, for god's sake. you opened your mouth to explain, but found your throat dry. you took a tiny sip—perfect strength, perfect sweetness, perfect temperature. how could you do something like this to someone who cared about you so much? you were a failure… you swallowed thickly. “yes. i met him on tinder a few days ago,” you mumbled quietly, too ashamed to look him in the eyes. “i think i swiped right on him accidentally…”

yeonjun nodded, his eyes trailing to your fingers, which were tapping nervously on the cup. he knew the tea would be cold long before you finished it, he’d made it for you to give you something to busy your hands with, somewhere to look when you couldn’t look at him. his gaze returned to your face. good thing? the guy was an accident. bad thing? you were on tinder. he bit his lip, trying to phrase the next question. he assumed you were looking for another ‘friend with benefits’, but he couldn't just ask you outright. the question would be far more prying than the previous one. “why did you decide to go on tinder? decided to meet someone, i mean.” 

you looked up at him quickly before staring into the cup again. the full answer would be long—you would have to start with the pregnancy test and touch on too many sensitive topics you weren't ready to confront yet. maybe a shorter version would suffice?.. “i realized i should… settle down,” you said quietly. “i don't exactly mean marriage or—all the more so—children, but…,” you exhaled sharply—how to phrase it without insulting him and what you had? ‘serious’? ‘real’? ‘something that has a future’? you bit your lip. “committed relationship.”

it felt like a punch to the gut for yeonjun—it wasn't what he expected. he thought he’d scared you away by promising to be with you, promising something real, and you didn't need it, he assumed that you were looking for sex without strings attached. it made sense—the perfect sense—until it turned out to be exactly opposite. you wanted something real, something serious—not just sex here and there—but you wanted it with someone else, not him. what are you doing here now, then? he thought bitterly, a lump forming in his throat, his fingers digging into his own cup. he didn't know how to ask you why it couldn't be him, nor was he sure he was ready to hear the answer. 

you bit your lip harder at his silence, realizing that in the end you had insulted him. everything felt so difficult, every small thing adding layers of complication to an already overwhelming situation. you took a deep breath—there was nothing left to lose. it was impossible to make things worse—they were already at their lowest. you might as well finish what you started. “when the—” you coughed, your throat dry again, and took a sip, though you knew it wouldn't make your voice any better. “when the test turned out to be false positive, i realized that… what we had was… dangerous. risky. it turned out to be false, but what if one day…,” you shook your head. “i realized it'd be safer in… a proper relationship. and i can't have it with you,” you finished quietly. 

yeonjun wondered where that cruelty came from, because you’d driven a knife into his heart earlier, and now, with these words, you twisted it . he tried to wet his lips, but his tongue was just as dry. why were you like that? why hadn't you just left? why had you stayed—to hurt him more? but most importantly, why couldn't you have that with him. “why?” he asked, his voice hoarse, the word leaving his lips before he could think about it. he wasn't even sure what he wanted to know. everything, maybe? he wanted to look at you, but he couldn't, his eyes glued to his trembling hands—why in the world would he get his hopes up?

you felt stupid—not for what you had said already, but for what you were about to say. suddenly, the reason behind everything seemed so small, insignificant and utterly foolish. you would think it was impossible to make everything worse, but you clearly did exactly that right after thinking the very same thing just a minute ago. you wished you weren't such a disaster, ruining everything you touched. but you had to answer; he had asked you to be honest. “the rule,” you whispered, shutting your eyes in shame.

“the rule—” yeonjun repeated involuntarily, even quieter, as if unsure whether he’d heard you right. but he had, and he almost growled at the realization. the fucking rule—he clenched his hand around the cup holding himself back from hurling it into the wall. he ran his fingers through his hair, tugging it at the roots in frustration. one fucking rule—he almost slapped himself. calm the fuck down, yeonjun, he growled at himself mentally. he’d assumed again, he’d thought of the rule that would be the best, that would mean happy ending, but you hadn’t specified which rule—there were a few. ‘strictly exclusive’ could be the reason too. what if you wanted an open relationship? he could never share you with anyone. “which?” he choked out, his hand gripping the cup harder.

you looked up at him and flinched—yeonjun looked furious. his hair was messy, his jaw clenched tightly, his fingers digging into the cup to the point of becoming white at the tips. and the way he looked at you… like you were the reason for all his anger. if eyes could kill… but you were the reason. and you could only do one thing now—answer. “the ‘no feelings’ one,” you whispered, your own hands tightening around the cup. but unlike yeonjun, you weren't angry—you were terrified, because you knew where this conversation was heading, and it would inevitably end with a confession.

yeonjun decided to stop thinking altogether. he couldn't keep hurting himself by getting his hopes up anymore—he didn't even believe your answer meant ‘i have feelings for you, but i'm scared to go against the rule’. he was sure there was something he’d overlooked because he was too fucking full of hope and it made him dumb. he cleared his throat. “if it wasn't for the rule, would you consider a serious relationship with me?” it felt like he’d poured the last of his strength into the question. just answer it and let me go to bed. or get drunk. just don't complicate it, i beg you. 

the word ‘yes’ refused to leave your lips. not because you weren't sure or the answer was ‘no’—you were sure and the answer was undoubtedly ‘yes’. but as you looked at yeonjun, his gaze barely focused and his whole demeanor so, so tired, you hesitated. was that what he wanted to hear? you didn’t know anything anymore. “would you?”

you’re deciding to complicate it after all, yeonjun thought bitterly, feeling the weight of exhaustion slowly creeping over him. he couldn't do it anymore. this emotional rollercoaster had drained him completely, leaving him beyond exhausted in every way. fuck it, he thought. i'll be a man. he was just too tired for another round of mental gymnastics. “yes.”

you froze. ‘yes’? he said ‘yes’? was he too tired to understand the question? should you ask another time but clarify it? should you— fuck it. no, just fuck it. you’d play dumb later if needed. “me too.” 

yeonjun exhaled unevenly, resting his forehead on his palm. he couldn’t believe your answer, couldn’t believe this torture was finally over, and couldn’t believe he was so fucking drained, that he couldn’t even react properly to the fact that the woman he wanted to build a serious relationship with, wanted the same. he was a failure, a disappointment, and so many other things, none of them good. but if you stayed with him after what he was about to say, he would ask you to marry him on the spot. “we’re official, okay? i’ll…” he ran his fingers through his hair again. “i’ll make it up for you later. i promise,” he mumbled.

you nodded, tired too. you knew what he felt, because you felt the same when three more pregnancy tests had come back negative—emptiness, disbelief and bone-deep fatigue. it had felt like your world was so close to crashing down, that it started slowly breaking before anything real had even begun, and all the strength you had in yourself had been spent on trying not to let it break so early, so when it had turned out that nothing was going to be ruined, the damage—even the small one—was already done, and in addition to that you couldn’t even be happy about it, because it felt like all of your life force left your body long ago.

except, unlike him, you had someone to hold you through it all. yeonjun held you when you thought your world was burning to ashes and when you barely had any strength to sit up after knowing your world would be fine. but for him, you’d only added to his exhaustion and to the weight he carried—your awkwardness, your anxiety, your inability to think before speaking. and even when you did think, it never seemed to help. but he still wanted you, and you wouldn’t let your overthinking brain convince you otherwise. 

yeonjun stood and wrapped his fingers around your wrist, pulling you towards the bedroom. the barely touched tea forgotten on the bar table, as he guided you through the apartment. he wasn’t sure if you nodded—he’d seen it with the corner of his eye, though, maybe he was mistaken because he was too tired, but he didn’t care because you followed him to the bed without hesitation, only pausing at the edge of it when he dropped onto the mattress, groaning at the pleasant feeling of stretching his limbs and letting his body finally relax. still, he had to open his eyes to look at you, when he realized you hadn’t joined him. 

you hesitated. the bed was unmade and yeonjun was still wearing the sweatpants and hoodie he’d had on outside earlier, but you weren't sure about lying there right in your sundress. it wasn’t a big deal in the past—mostly because usually you both were quick to undress each other, kicking the bed cover away on the floor—but a three week long break had left you a bit uncertain about even the simplest rules of the apartment. “i wore the dress outside…” you trailed off, glancing at him nervously.

yeonjun chuckled breathlessly—you were so cute, even if you were being slightly annoying when all he wanted was to hold you already. he wouldn’t even care if you wore a coat and boots right now. still, he already felt so much better, lighter, anticipating finally holding you and refusing to let you go, exhaustion melting away bit by bit. he propped himself up on his elbow and held out his hand for you. “i’ll undress both of us and make the bed later, after a little nap,” he murmured and moved closer to you, taking your hand in his and tugging it gently. “come here, baby. i missed you so much.”

you giggled softly—sound that felt foreign after weeks of not having any positive emotions or feelings—crawling toward him, knees sinking into the soft cloud-like mattress, as he held your hand, his hand firm, but tender, holding you up so you didn’t fall. you hovered over him, trying to suppress more silly giggles at the sight of his tired face having the same happy, silly smile. by all logic, you were supposed to be the one holding him, yet it felt like he wanted to hold you. you giggled again at the thought—he was so ridiculous. 

and you were right—yeonjun turned onto his back and gently tugged your hand, silently telling you to lie down beside him. his other hand unzipped the hoodie, and he slapped his chest over the tank top a few times, wordlessly showing you where to rest your head. you obliged happily, the whole world fading away the moment your cheek pressed against his firm chest and his arms wrapped securely around you. nothing else mattered anymore—not when you could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feel the soft rise and fall of his breathing against the top of your head, and be held in a way that made one thing clear—he wasn’t going to let you go.

[kafka-ish]

Art Donaldson would be the perfect person to lose your virginity to. It doesn’t even matter what the context is. Whether or not you’re each other’s firsts, desperately clinging to one another, still fully clothed, both pressing hot and heavy, sloppy, kisses onto your bodies and lips, not caring about the drool and spit, too enamored with the other one, too caught up in the breathless heat of the moment. You two can barely contain yourselves. And of course you want more but you’re somehow both ashamed, too embarrassed to use your words, to say anything that would indicate going further than this. It’s so fucking stupid considering your current position: your neck has already been bitten to the brim, littered with bite marks and bruises and it’s not like you’re exactly shy about rutting yourself against his thigh as a means for friction. Anything you can get, you’ll take; Art’s the same. You can feel his erection through his jeans and you can tell he’s uncomfortable, poor thing, but all you can think about is how big he is underneath them, what his cock looks like, all pretty and pink and weeping, and his even prettier face, what he’ll look like when you blow him. You wonder what kinds of sounds he’ll make, if he’s even louder than when you guys are just making out. So your hand moves down, out of the curiousness of it all, not forgetting to trace his jaw before your fingers ghost over the bulge that pokes at your stomach. You can feel him smile into your lips that this is happening. Even though he’s quiet, you hear him mumble, what are you doing? He sounds shy even when he’s trying to be playful.

“Nothing…” you breathe back, moving your hand away. His breath hitches and he starts to whine once he feels the pads of your fingers on his abdomen. This is your pathetic way of trying to give him a hint: you scratch your nails uselessly at his v-line, then hips before reaching for the hem of his shirt in a lazy attempt to try and remove it.

“Not fair.” He pouts like a girl but all it does is make you want to kiss him more, which you do. You attach your lips to his with more vigor than before. You kiss his stupid pout until it’s gone and he’s groaning, a fucking mess with his mouth open; he has to pull you apart from him which physically pains him but he has to in order to undress you the same way you did for him. “There we go. That’s better,” he says. Takes a minute to fully take your figure in. Appreciate it. “Much better.” A giggle escapes your lips. You don’t know if you should be embarrassed now that your chest is revealed to him for his eyes’ full discretion. He’s not exactly discreet with these things. But it’s Art Fucking Donaldson and you also can’t help but be flattered.

“Thanks.” You can feel your cheeks heat up, all flushed at the compliment and under the spotlight of his admiration. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you say, immediately regretting it. But it doesn’t matter. He locks your lips with his so he can keep you like this: in his grasp, in order to pin you down, switch positions. Him on top, now. You’ve never seen him this dominant. And he makes his way, through the sloppy, spit-ridden suctioning of his lips, that once held yours, to your neck, collarbone - lingering on the spot he knows that’s sensitive, stomach, and hips. He’s slow and tentative with his movements, wanting to draw out every second of the moment.

He hums against your skin, the vibration of his lips sending you into pure bliss. But he stops before he can go any lower. Looks up at you. Your face is all a mess, all twisted and scrunched up just from the heavy petting and light butterfly kisses - a vision that should’ve been the other way around: you eyeing him, getting a glimpse of what you do to him before wrapping your lips around the head of his dick. But there’s no going back. He asks if you’ll let him eat you out.

You want to say yes but there’s a moan caught in your throat, so you nod instead, vigorously shaking your head.

But it’s not enough for him. He needs vocal validation. He crawls back up; his breath is hot, hitting your temple as he whispers in your ear. Mumbles something like please, I want to taste you. And you give in, managing to muster out a please, too. That’s all he needs to hear. And he’s back where he started. Pulls your panties down with his teeth before lapping up the want and desire and wetness that the fabric prior had been collecting.

You could scream, but he’s already moaning for you. He gets off on the sole feeling of his head between your legs and how you’re dripping, drenched just for him.

“God, fuck me.” The words slip from his lips onto yours and your free ones say,

“Okay.” He wonders if he hears this correctly. He’s rutting into the mattress. His hard-on is about to burst. It doesn’t help when you say his name. His chest and cheeks feel hot and heavy even without clothes.

You pull him up by his neck, kiss the spot where your fingers left prints only to leave a different type of mark with your teeth.

“But I wasn’t finished,” he says sadly. He wants the first time you cum to be on his tongue. His head dips down again but right now you need to feel him. You cup his head in between your hands, tell him, that’s okay. And one trails down to his button of his jeans, relieving him of the tight feeling of his boxers, only to guide him to the tight entrance of your pussy.

“Isn’t this much better anyway?”

[ang3lmoans]

Watching Garam lick his fingers was something Angel would never forget. The man continued to surprise him. we should've done this sooner. He couldn’t agree more. But instead Angel laughed softly as he placed another kiss to the top of the man’s head. Angel laid beside the man and smiled as he protested him taking a bath. He wouldn’t argue, Angel wanted nothing more than to keep Garam in his arms. And hearing the man say he was happy filled him with joy. That’s all he ever wanted for Garam. Was for him to be happy. And to know that he was the cause was the icing on the cake. What he was not expecting were the kisses that followed. And those kisses soon turning into bites. He couldn’t help but let out breathless moans as his arms tightened around his best friend. His bottom lip soon caught between his teeth as he tilted his neck to allow the man better access to it. Angel’s mind was completely blank. He could only focus on the kissing and bites to his neck that were driving him insane. But he kept himself calm, knowing this was it for the day. They had crossed many lines in one day and they both needed a break. No matter how horny they both seemed to be. He cared for Garam too much to allow urges to block their genuine feelings for each other. Or more importantly their friendship. When the smaller man seemed satisfied with his markings and let up Angel let out a breath, “You are going to be the death of me” he teased running his hands slowly down the man’s back. As Garam gave him his rule he smirked. Angel knew he could hold out but he wondered if his friend could. “Really only on your neck? What if I want to leave one here?” Angel asked as his fingers gazed over the man’s thigh. “Or maybe here? I think this would be a perfect spot” he continued to tease moving his fingers from his thigh to Garam’s ass. He left a little tap before grabbing it grinning, “Mm, I don’t mind waiting until they are gone. Do I get to make a rule?” Angel asked enjoying their banter. “For every day I have to wait. That’s how many times you cum” Angel was sure to press a kiss to the man’s cheeks as he spoke and moving to whisper in his ear. As they both pulled back Angel smiled being able to see the man clearly now. His eyes softened as Garam spoke taking in what he was saying. His tone seemed serious yet nervous. He used his free hand to brush some loose strands from his face. An eyebrow raised as the smaller man began to stumble over his words and his cheeks turned a shade of pink. As Garam hid his face away Angel let out a chuckle and nodded, “Okay baby I got it. I’ll keep that in mind.” He squeezed the man against him kissing the side of his head. As they laid there in silence for a moment Angel’s mind began to wander. He wasn’t ready for full intercourse. The idea of it scared him. He truly didn’t know how his body would react. Yes, when he was around Garam in the beginning he would flinch or stiffen whenever the man touched him. He wished he could make sense of it. Why his body reacted that way. But what he did feel is safe with Garam. And right now safety was everything for Angel. “Garam, I didn’t think I was ready or anything. Especially not for whatever the hell we just did. But you make me feel safe. And I’m happy it was with you”

his lips parted, thinking angel was going to finish in his mouth like he had so graciously done for garam but the man hadn't. garam flinched slightly as he felt warm liquid shoot onto his face and lips, which eventually dripped into his mouth. a hand lifted to wipe away what had spilled onto his cheeks, bringing it to his mouth to lick his fingers clean. he was left smiling once angel had fallen back to lay down, eagerly taking a hold of his fingers when the man reached out to him. "we should've done this sooner." the words that left his lips so carelessly probably should have remained in his head.

garam smiled after being pulled to lay against the other's chest, his hand balling up to rest just below angel's ribcage curled up underneath his own chin. it'd been so long since he was actually given the opportunity to cuddle with somebody. "it's okay," his voice was small as he tried to hide his excitement from something others might have seen as so insignificant. he was quick to start shaking his head when the other mentioned garam needing a bath, though with the position they were both laying in, he wasn't able to shake it very much. "i think i want to stay right here." he countered as he shifted to press his nose against angel's chest, inhaling deeply. his lips were pressed next, trailing soft kisses up the other's neck until his nose nudged against angel's earlobe. only a second later, garam was taking that same earlobe between his lips and tugging on it gently. "i'm really happy," he whispered before nuzzling his face into angel's neck. he didn't stop there, though. garam continued kissing the man's neck, those kisses quickly turned into sucking as he was determined to leave a mark on the other's skin. it was an act done out of pettiness, not something he thought through, as he wanted there to be something clear and visible left of their time spent together. a mark that he was sure darius would see, assuming the man would see angel again before the marks faded. he knew his intentions were in the wrong place, he knew angel would probably be upset if garam were to clue him in on why he was doing this. but he needed the third party to know that angel was off limits, there was zero chance garam would let anything happen between the two of them beyond the kiss they shared outside angel's apartment. "i haven't gotten to do this in a long time," he continued to whisper, alternating between kissing and sucking the skin of angel's neck. when he was satisfied with the work he'd done, garam pulled away to look down at the few little burgundy marks now on angel's neck and smiled. he brought his hand up to run his finger over the larger mark, one he'd intentionally made in the shape of a love heart. "this is the only place you're allowed to leave marks on me," he said, tapping the mark he'd left. "you can do anything you want to me as long as you follow this rule. and if you break the rule, you don't get to touch me until the mark you made is gone." garam probably wouldn't follow through with the last part of his request, it'd feel more like a punishment for himself rather than for angel. he pushed himself up a little bit, still resting the majority of his upper torso on angel but he wanted to actually get a good look at the man underneath him. "i know i talked about wanting someone to be gentle with me but you don't have to if you like it rough. i like that, too, but there are also going to be times where i want things to be nice a-and intimate and, you know, not just fucking. and i know you're not ready to actually do stuff like that but what we did, if it happens again—" he paused, feeling his cheeks heating up. garam hated that he felt embarrassed talking about stuff like this, especially since he was so open about it when he wasn't sober. "i liked that you let your, um—" he paused again, a bashful smile creeping over, "your urges take control. your hips, you—" his eyes closed as he let his face fall back down to the crook of angel's neck. "you can fuck my mouth whenever you want." garam whispered, unable to actually look at the other.

[frogsinflannel]

If I Kiss You Where It's Sore

Rated T | 9-1-1: BuckTommy | 2230 words

“So.”  Tommy smiles at Buck from his place between his legs, hands gently cupping his knees.  His teeth are showing, white and sharp.  

The callouses on his hands catch on the downy leg hair, and he rubs little, teasing circles with his thumbs.  Buck feels his face split into an answering grin, one arm tucked under his head and the other laid against his side, his hand resting on his stomach.  “So what?” he asks.

Tommy presses his mouth to the meat of Buck’s leg in a slow kiss.  There’s no expectation there, no heat, just comfort and ease and the reassuring warmth of skin on skin.  They’re both stripped down to just their underwear, in a soft, sleepy bubble in Tommy’s big worn-in bed.  The duvet Tommy has is a creamy, striped linen, and it feels cozy and gentle and good where Buck lays on top of it.  There’s something approaching luxurious about how comfortable the bedding is, how intentional Tommy was in choosing it.  Something about a thing used fully for its intended purpose, enjoyed and well taken care of.  Buck gets the feeling that’s how Tommy is with the things he has now: careful.  Thoughtful and attentive, and Buck feels envy for every object lucky enough to be tended to with his big, exacting hands.  

He gets to be one of those objects again now, and when Tommy’s thumbs circle again in a play of soft-padded kisses a shivery thrill tracks up his spine. 

“ So. ”  Tommy gives him a look trying too hard to be exasperation.  Buck spreads his legs a little wider.  See, he’s accommodating, too, making room for Tommy’s broad, broad shoulders.  “Did you like the movie?”

Buck laughs and with a mock-scowl Tommy pops the thick, elasticized waistband of his briefs.  It snaps in pleasant not-quite-pain against his skin and he wiggles his hips.  “The movie?  Uh.  You think I watched the movie?  Hey, let me remind you whose mouth was on whose neck.”

Tommy grins but hides it, scooting up and burying his face in the soft skin of Buck’s inner thigh.  He shakes his head, rubbing against him, and Buck feels the gentle scratch of his stubble.  “Don’t know what you mean,” he says.  Buck sighs, content, and rakes touch-hungry fingers through Tommy’s fluffy, bed-softened hair.  It’s another one of those things about him he missed so much.  “I mean, did I have my hands on some gorgeous guy?  Was I kind of distracted myself, marking him up?  Did I touch him so good he lost his mind a little?”  Tommy looks up at him then, and his nose scrunches as he beams, playful and teasing, waiting for Buck to give him an answer.

The hand in Tommy’s hair moves down to cup his cheek and Buck thinks–not for the first time–that he’d fall over himself for the chance to touch Tommy, to be in a position where Tommy could touch him.  He’s already made a fool of himself for this man, and chances are he’ll be doing it again and again.  “A little?” he repeats, lifting one brow.  He presses his thumb into the cleft of Tommy’s chin.  Tommy’s eyes are soft, worn-denim blue, and Buck watches them flick down to his mouth.  He bites his bottom lip, a tease, and feels a hot splash of satisfaction in his belly when Tommy’s gaze zeroes in on the press of his teeth.  “Don’t undersell yourself,” he says, and he keeps his voice low and intimate.  Soft.  “You touched him so good he lost his whole mind.”

One big hand slides up his stomach and taps an arpeggio from his ribs up to his collarbone.  There’s a blossoming spot of purple right at the base of his throat, and Tommy presses the tips of two fingers into it–a slow, gently building pressure, just enough for Buck to feel it.  He groans and tilts his head back, baring his throat.

It feels like another question, the way Tommy’s hand lays hot and heavy against his clavicle.  The way his fingers push bluntly into the bruising warmth his mouth had made.  He wants it.  Tommy knows he wants it.  But things are still petal-soft and new, they’re re-learning the way they fit together.  Even in Tommy’s careful hands, it’s a question that needs an answer.

Because Tommy deserves to be tended to.

“Feels good,” he says, and his voice comes out rougher than he means it to.  It’s hoarse, a half-whisper that still sounds loud in the quiet of Tommy’s bedroom.   

“Yeah?”  Tommy glances up and their eyes meet.  He looks so pleased, his mouth crooked up and the corners of his eyes creased.  Then his gaze travels down–slow, slow–to fix on the point where his hand touches Buck’s skin.  Awareness and expectation start to rise and Buck feels the prickle of goosebumps up and down his body.

“Yeah.”  Buck swallows.  He wonders if Tommy can feel the bob of it.  “It’s like… like a memory, but better.  ‘S not the same.”  He groans when Tommy’s presses in with a touch more pressure, when Tommy’s body shimmies up and Buck can feel him warm and solid against the inside of his thighs.  “I can remember how we were the only two people in the theatre—because come on, Tommy, it was a shitty movie, you know this.  A-and how you let me put my arm around your shoulders because I was trying to be smooth, and you didn’t say anything even when I wasn’t.  You smiled about it and then turned so I couldn’t see it.”  He swallows again, working himself up and wanting Tommy to hear what he was saying–god did he want Tommy to hear it.  He cups the back of Tommy’s head and bends one leg, bracketing Tommy in with the mountain of his knee.  He thumbs at Tommy’s earlobe, scritches gently at his scalp.  “You wore your special cologne that I know costs more than you say it does, but it smells so good.  And even when I couldn’t see you, because the theatre was too dark, when you leaned in close it brought that scent with you, and I knew you were there.”  He gentles his hand and lets his fingers brush through the short hair.  “I knew you were there.”

“And then I kissed your neck,” Tommy murmurs.

“Uh-huh,” Buck agrees.  He shifts his hips, knows that Tommy can feel that he’s getting hard.  Knows that they’re not going to do anything about that yet.  “You kissed my neck.  I… I felt your teeth but you never bit down.  I felt when you sucked.  When you…”  He lets out a long, breathy exhale and he presses his knee tighter in to Tommy, wants to keep him right where he is for as long as he can.  “When you left a mark.”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Tommy asks, and his eyes are so dark and his mouth is set and Buck knows what it looks like when it’s soft and open and wanting.  

“Yeah it hurts,” he says.  He lifts his chest, arches up as much as he can into Tommy’s fingers.  “It’s supposed to.  I want to know it’s there.”

Tommy sucks in a breath and then, quick for somebody as big as he is, he lifts himself and shimmies up to cover Buck’s body with his, blanketing him strong and solid and warm.  He presses a pleading kiss to the corner of Buck’s mouth.  It tastes bittersweet.

Their legs press together, Tommy’s hips fitted neatly into the cradle of Buck’s pelvis.  He hooks an ankle over Tommy’s calf, keeping him snugly in place, and then brushes a hand down the length of Tommy’s spine, landing softly on the small of his back.  He runs a finger along the line of his underwear, knows if he looks down he’ll see it clinging to the curve of Tommy’s luscious ass.  They’re so close, stacked on top of each other, and Buck never wants to leave.  He has Tommy, right where he wants him.  And Tommy is there, choosing to stay.  “Wanna remember you were there.”

With a huff, Tommy presses his face into Buck’s shoulder.  Hiding.  “Don’t say shit like that,” Tommy says, his voice muffled in Buck’s skin.

“Hey.”  He pinches his side and Tommy squirms.  “Honesty, right?  We’re saying what we mean?”  His fingers dig in further and Tommy grunts, nuzzling into him and then pushing the point of his nose into the crook of Buck’s neck.  “Well… I mean it.  I like thinking about how much you want me.  That you couldn’t even wait to get out of the theatre before, uh.  What was it you said?”  He feels it as his mouth curls up, and it takes restraint he doesn’t usually exercise to keep from sliding his hand down to grope or pushing his hips up again into Tommy’s.  “You got your hands on some gorgeous guy.  Gorgeous you said.”

Tommy hums.  “Maybe I was exaggerating.”

Buck covers his hand and cranes his neck as much as he can.  He slots his fingers between Tommy’s and then guides both their index fingers to press again at the almost obscenely large hickey on his neck.  “Huh.”  He feels it and feels it and it’s such a good sort of pain.  “Your enthusiasm suggests otherwise.”

A teasing slant of teeth nips at his collarbone.  It’s meant to distract him, he knows, but he’s got Tommy right where he wants him.  He wraps his arms around him, holding him tight.  The trap’s been sprung.  Tommy lifts his head, looking with mild curiosity at Buck’s needy grapple with one eyebrow raised.  “Well.  Maybe gorgeous isn’t entirely wrong.”

Buck grins big and wide.  

Tommy’s eyes darken.  “Yeah?  And maybe, if he asks really nicely—”

“Hey.”  Buck clears his throat, waits until he has every last speck of Tommy’s attention.  “I love you.”

Tommy’s mouth goes slack.  It’s not the first time he’s said it, but those few occasions have been precious, usually during something intense.  After getting back together and airing out their issues.  During sex.  He waited until now, until a moment of easy calm, because he wants Tommy to have to hear it.  He wants Tommy to know how much he means it.

He blinks and Buck can see him reeling back.

“Hey,” he says.  He squeezes once, then loosens his hold.  “I love you,” he says again.

“That’s…”  Tommy breathes out and Buck’s arms fall away a little as he props himself up to hover over Buck.  “That’s a big thing to say for one love bite, even if it is some of my best work.”

“Maybe I’m just grateful I get any of your work, even if it turned out to be your worst.”

“If you really want to thank me…” Tommy starts, and his voice is light.  Buck knows this game, he can already feel the deflection coming.  Tommy pets over Buck’s chest, lingering on his nipple and then a tattoo.  “You can put on that jock I know you’ve got in your bag and we’ll see if my work can’t improve with the right motivation.”

Buck shivers and he knows Tommy catches it.  He can’t help it–because Tommy’s right, he’d come to spend the night prepared, and maybe he’d wanted to encourage those large, masterful palms.  He is proudly aware that his ass is excellent motivation.  But this is important enough for his heart as well as his dick, and he shoves all the horny thoughts aside.  “That sounds… really damn good,” he says.  “And I want that.  I do.  But right now I want to cuddle, and digest that awful movie, and tell my gorgeous guy that I love him.”  He leans up and kisses the first part of Tommy he can reach.  “And I do.  I love you.”

For a long moment, Tommy is silent. Buck focuses on the warmth of him seeping in, on the soft bedding against his skin, on the buzzy ambience of the room around them.  There are still the faintest traces of his cologne lingering on Tommy’s body and he breathes in, trying to catch those, too.  He wants all of Tommy.  He wants his best work and his worst, the smell of him and the weight of him, too.  He wants to find all the cracks and stick his fingers in, see if they come out bleeding from the sharp edges.  He’s never known when to leave well enough alone.  He doesn’t want to leave Tommy alone again.

“Okay.”  Tommy breathes out and lowers his head.  His eyes are closed.  Buck wants to kiss the thin skin of his eyelids.  Very slowly Tommy starts to press down.  His body covers Buck's.  His weight starts to sink in.

Buck lays sandwiched between Tommy’s heavy, scarred body and the soft foam mattress topper covered by a fresh cotton sheet.  The pressure of that body brings a clarity he doesn’t often feel.  He drank a full glass of water.  He remembered his meds.  He doesn’t have to hold so tight when Tommy is the one keeping him pinned down, unable to get away.

“Okay,” Tommy says again.  He speaks against Buck’s skin.  His voice is soft and Buck can feel the words even better than he can hear them.  “Okay, Evan,”  he says.  “Okay.”

Read @ AO3

Song Inspo / Fic Soundtrack:

[tuffgreg]

CAN I REQUEST SOME QUICK N DIRTY BLOODWEAVE PUBLIC FROTTAGE/GROPING

ft. a mention of our favorite little shithead tiefling and astarion's favorite made up guy to be mad about

ehehe

bloodweave + frottage + rated e + 710 words

“Astarion, please – gods –” 

Gale’s head falls back against the shelf behind him with a thump and a barely-there rattle of a couple of loose books that makes Gale tremble all the harder. He doesn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, one clutching at the front of Astarion’s leather armor, the other in his hair (mussed), or Astarion’s hair (also mussed), or tugging at the scandalous plunged front panels of the wavemother’s robe as if he can make it any more suitable for daytime. 

Astarion has his nose buried in the appetizing line of Gale’s throat, at least still possessed of enough proprietary not to bleed Gale out amidst the rare stock of Sorcerous Sundries. Gale would never forgive him anyway, if they were to make a mess of such fine volumes. But he licks a stripe over the thin sheen of sweat – whether it’s panic or arousal is not entirely clear, but knowing Gale as well as he’s come to Astarion suspects the latter – and tut, tuts against Gale’s flushed pink ear. 

“Do you want to draw attention, darling?” Astarion snorts out a laugh as Gale’s wandering hand comes up so Gale can bite his own fist. Astarion presses his thigh more insistently between Gale’s legs, Gale’s cock trapped between the immodest panel and Astarion. “All your protests,” he murmurs, charmed by the way Gale’s lashes flutter against his cheeks as Gale ruts against him. “But I still wonder if you want that tiefling to –” 

Gale’s hand digs into the leather, and his other hand makes a wild grab for Astarion’s hair to yank him down into a sloppy kiss as Gale struggles to stifle his own annoyed noise against Astarion’s mouth. 

“As if that’s not what you brought me here for,” Gale retorts, breathless, when he finally leans back again. His eyes are so lovely like this, slim golden halos around his wide pupils, face flushed and his mouth swollen and terribly kissable despite the slightly sulking set of it. “Not why you –” Another kiss, as Astarion slips a hand between them to thumb at the wet tip of his cock where the panel has been rucked up too high to hide it anymore. “Why you goaded me into this –” 

But Gale is so terribly easy to goad, when Astarion sets his mind to hit – so charmingly inclined to show off. His education, his skill, all the minutiae of his endless depths of arcane awareness, his erudite wit. The enticing dip of his cleavage in the robe’s gravity-defying cut, the eye-catching roll of luscious fat at his hip (a particularly enticing spot for Astarion to feed, he’s decided). How desirable he is, or at least, how desirable Astarion finds him. 

He does so enjoy being wanted, and unsurprisingly for a man who wore around the mantle Chosen without a shred of humility for years, he does so enjoy being claimed. 

“You’ll make a terrible mess, if you don’t start being nicer to me,” Astarion purrs, an edge of threat to his voice – only a little, and a perfectly harmless one besides given the threats exchanged at their first meeting all those tendays ago. “Stains on this pretty dress, dripping down your thigh. Is that what you want?” 

“Is that what you –” Gale’s hushed, harsh whisper is choked off by a groan he struggles to swallow when Astarion bends to his collarbone, fangs grazing his skin. “I don’t – Astarion, please –” 

Astarion hums, and fits his teeth into the nearly-faded remnants of a mark from a few days ago. Please what. 

Gale trembles with the effort of his own restraint. He exhales sharply, and drops his hand to the back of Astarion’s neck, fingertips tenderly stroking over what skin he can get to over Astarion’s high collar. “Your mouth,” he breathes, so quiet Astarion wouldn’t be able to hear him if he weren’t a vampire. “Please, Astarion.”

What a treat, to wheedle so many indulgences out of Gale in one short trip. “Better bite your tongue til we’re done,” Astarion says dryly, rewarding Gale with a tender kiss to the collarbone before he sinks to the floor. “If you get us caught, the only sundries you’ll ever leave here with again will be beneath this clever little gown.”

[y2ashlee]

Jade x Female! Reader SMUT

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

Jade x Female! Reader SMUT

WARNINGS: Bad writing, Unprotected sex

Jade would have a foot fetish you can’t change myself as I have in game evidence.

~~~

Jade had invited over his girlfriend also known as the ramshackle dorm prefect to his room. He wanted to just spend some time with her. She of course was happy to spend time with him. Things have turned from peaceful chatter to Jade leaning over her from behind as he was pressed against her back his hand gently stroking her thigh moving closer to her in her thigh ever so often as they sat on his bed, his legs resting either side of her as they watched a video on her phone. She clenched her legs slightly his breath against her ear. His arm wrapped around her waist playing with the fabric of her shirt. “Jade are you alright?” She asked pausing the video. “I’m perfectly fine, ______. Why do you ask?” He said smiling slightly his gentle movements not stopping. “Well, your mind seems to be somewhere else.” She said softly as his movements stilled for a moment. “I apologise. It seems I want to do more than just hold you.” A sharp tooth grazed against her neck slightly before his lips gently touched it. She shivered from the feeling. “Then maybe we should watch this later..” she said craning her neck to look at him. He looked at her shocked for a second before smirking slightly. “You wanted to do more than cuddle the whole time didn’t you.” She said pouting slightly. “Well not the whole time..” he said kissing her cheek before kissing her lips.

She pulled away from him and placed her phone on his bedside table. “I don’t mind but what if-“ she was quickly cut off as he spoke. “Floyd will not be back for sometime. I made sure.” He said smiling softly as he pulled her back to him. “So you did plan to do more the cuddle.” She said scoffing slightly. “Not really I just wanted to spend alone time with you without being interrupted..” he said peppering her neck with kisses from behind her ear to her collar bone. “I’m glad you wore comfortable clothes..” he said one hand returning to he thigh the other slipping up the bottom of her shirt caressing her skin his nails dragging against it making her jolt slightly. “Well you said to-“ she gasped as his cool hand slid up beneath her bra to cup her breast. She scoffed once more smirking slightly. “You’re very adventurous today-“ she said being cut off once more by a kiss she sighed into the kiss feeling him bite her lip she glad let him enter as their tongues explored each other mouths tangling together as the hand on her breast found her nipple and flicked it pinching and fiddling with it as she moaned into the kiss. He pulled away letting her catch some breath before kissing her once more the tongues entangling once again. His other hand moved between her thighs as he felt her heat through her leggings his fingers grazing it as he stroked against it. She moaned once again as he continued to stroke her. She pulled away from the kiss breathless feeling her heavy breathing against his hand. He slid his finer to the waistband of her leggings sliding beneath them as well as her underwear as he began to stroke her outer folds already wet with slick.

“My my..” he says softly making her flush in embarrassment before gasping as she felt his finger prod her entrance before slipping inside making her groan as he starts to pump his fingers grazing his fingers against her walls as she lets out a soft moan. He smirks and slips another finger inside making her shiver at the feeling. He continues in movements as he nibbled and sucked on her neck and collarbone leaving marks but none wear they would be seen when she wore her uniform. She feels his thumb press against her pearl making her shudder letting out a moan. His eyebrow twitches slightly at the sound and he continues his movements letting a breath go past her ear making her shudder again as her wet walls clench around his fingers before letting out a low groan as she climaxes. She shudders as she feels him remove his fingers her wet walls quivering. He quirks an eyebrow as he inspects his fingers seeing them covered in slick. He licks one and looks at her seeing her horrified face. “Don’t lick it!” She said pulling his hand away from his face. He chuckles at her behaviour. “Apologies, I couldn’t resist.” She lets out of breath and shakes her head slightly. “Well what about you…” she says shyly. “Me?” He asks a little confused as to what she means. “Yes, you. Surely you need to relieve yourself after poking me in the back.” His eyes widen as his face flushes slightly. “…well-“ he starts before being interrupted by her. “I’m fine with going all the way..” she says her face flushed in embarrassment.

His eyes widened once more before he leans forward grasping her chin and tilting it to his mouth giving her a deep passionate kiss before pulling away. “Are you sure.” He asks his breath heavy and his voice slightly lower than usual. “Yes.” She says smiling slightly. “Alright then, my pearl.” He says sweetly turning her towards him and laying her down on the bed kissing her slowly from her neck down her arm his fingers hooking under her leggings and sliding them down as well as her underwear before dropping them to the floor. He then slips of her socks placing a gentle kiss on them before he drops them to the floor as well. She presses her legs together embarrassed that she’s half naked. He smiles softly and takes this as an opportunity to undress himself. He undoes the buttons of his shirt before slipping it off and dropping it to the floor and taking off his singlet. He undoes his belt before sliding it out of the belt loops and tossing it to the floor. He flushes in embarrassment slightly as he undoes his pants and slides the zipper down. Her eyes widen as she sees the bludge in his underwear finally be set free. She gulps at the size of his length her mind wondering if it will all fit and if it’s that big now is it bigger when he’s in his true form.

“Are you alright, my pearl?” He asks once more leaning in to kiss her. She nods placing her hands on either side of his face. She smiles and kisses him back. He smiles back more feeling reassured. He places his length against her wetness letting it be coated in her slick before he slowly inserts himself she bites her lip feeling him slowly go deeper her eyes watering slightly. He bites his lip his eyes clenched shut frighting the urge to quickly plunge himself deep inside her completely. He lets out a small groan as he feels her tight wet walls squeeze him. He starts to rocks his hips back and forth hoping it’ll help her loosen up so he can go deeper. She lets out a soft moan as she feels his length press against parts of her that his fingers couldn’t. She wraps her arms around his neck bringing him closer to her as she lets out another moan urging him to go deeper. He pushes in as far as he can his eyelids shuddering as he feels himself completely covered by her. He lets out a groan as he kisses her his tongue pushing past her lips to play with her own as he starts to rock his hips once more her own hips thrusting up to meet his. He starts to quicken his pace. She pulls away letting out a low moan her walls clenching around him as he presses himself against a certain spot deep inside her.

He groans at the feeling of her clenching around him. He quickens his pace wanting more of her before he can’t hold himself back. “J-Jade-!” She gasps before letting out another moan this one louder in volume. He grunts as he feels himself close to release. He leans forward resting his head against hers his breath heavy as he bucks his hips in an unsteady rhythm before he shutters and feels himself finally released morning softly into her neck as he bites it. She moans as he bites her neck his hips still moving into her as she gasps feeling herself unravel her walls quivering as she lets out a long low moan. He slows his pace to a stop resting his forehead against her own and smiling softly. She smiles back and kisses him. They both chuckle to each other as he pulls himself out of her to lay next to her before fixing himself up. She smiles softly at him and pulls him into her arms resting her head upon his.

They both fall asleep shortly after. And when they both wake. She realises something important. “Oh my god we didn’t use protection!” She says panicking. “Protection? I thought I procreated you quite well.” He says slightly offended. “No I mean we didn’t use a condom.” He looks at her with a questioning look. “What’s a condom?”

~~~

She is naked from the bottom down and he is naked from his hips up. Together they are fully clothed.

[9haharharley1]

I need to see the nastiest, most intense BDSM session Jack is willing to go with Pitch as well as aftercare cuz Pitch ain't a bitch/lh

I hope your night goes smooth btw!

Jack lay shaking on the bed. His stomach was splattered with cum, thighs shiny with lube. His nipples were puffy and swollen, cheeks purple with a deep blush. Shadows left inky stains as they slid away, loosening the ropes binding the younger man's limbs and revealing reddish-purple marks on his shoulders, chest, wrists, thighs, and ankles. Splotches of red and purple littered his body where Pitch had sucked and bit at his skin relentlessly, deep imprints left over on his cheeks where a ball gag had been tightened to keep Jack from crying out and begging him to stop. A rather deep and vicious bite had torn the delicate skin of one thigh, scabbed over from Jack's own internal cold, and Pitch ran his fingers over it gently. Jack jerked at his touch, trying to pull his leg away, but Pitch lifted it easily. He hooked a thin ankle over his shoulder, rubbing soothingly at the marks on Jack's thighs, and kissed the mark on Jack's thigh. Jack trembled beneath him.

He had never looked so exquisite.

"So good, Jack..." Pitch murmured against his skin. It was loud in the quiet room, once filled with his own heavy, desperate breathing as he fucked Jack viciously into the bed, the poor little spirit unable to do more than squeal and moan behind his gag as Pitch had his way with him. Their pleasure and pain had filled the room, echoing back to Pitch like sweet music in the dark, but all that could be heard now was his own calming breathes and Jack's ragged ones. Jack shuddered at the sound of his voice, the first he had spoken since putting the blindfold over Jack's eyes shortly after fastening the gag. A quiet sob escaped Jack, and Pitch watched as teeth sunk into his swollen lower lip. He kissed the bite mark again. "You look absolutely gorgeous like this, Jack," he whispered against soft skin. Jack heaved another soft cry. "So beautiful..."

He rubbed at the bite with his thumb, feeling the muscle quiver under his hand. Then he slowly slid his hands over Jack's legs, massaging the imprints of rope left behind on pale thighs. He couldn't bear to look at the mess dripping from between pale cheeks less he grow hard again, and instead trailed gentle kisses up along his thigh, up to his hips and flat stomach. Jack's abdomen flexed with the shock of touch, and a sob echoed in the quiet room. The sound of a hand smacking flesh soon followed, and Pitch glanced up to see Jack covering his mouth to stifle his cries. He kissed Jack's chest gently, avoiding no-doubt sore nipples.

"You did so well, love," he whispered against his skin. He sat up, stretching out along Jack's side, one arm coming up to prop himself and curl over Jack's head on the pillow protectively. He carded fingers through soft, sweaty white hair and reached for the blindfold he'd yet to remove, unwilling to subject his young lover to all of his senses in one abrupt moment after their scene. He removed it slowly, flinging it into the dark and pressing gentle kisses to Jack's flushed cheek. "Such a good boy for me..." he whispered into a flushed ear.

Jack still trembled against him, and Pitch pressed himself more fully against his side, allowing his heat to sink into his cold little lover. He whispered soothing nonsense into Jack's ear, kissing his face and neck, rubbing at the marks left over on his skin and avoiding the sore spots until Jack's shaking calmed down. Eventually, he was able to take Jack's hand, moving it away to reveal his pouty lips, but instead of claiming his mouth like he so desperately wanted, Pitch squeezed his fingers, raising his hand to his lips for a kiss. He kissed the palm of Jack's hand and then each long finger until he dragged his lips up the back of his hand to place another kiss. All the while, he ran his other hand through Jack's hair. When he finally reached a thin wrist, Pitch kissed the imprint of rope left behind, opening his eyes just enough to look up at the lovely creature gazing back at him with tears in his eyes. He did not let go of Jack's hand as he lowered it, holding it gently with his own.

"Hey..." he murmured. He kissed Jack's shoulder sweetly. "Back with me?"

Jack swallowed, thick and noisy, but he nodded. A tremble still ran through him, but not nearly as violent as it had been when Pitch started loosening the ropes.

"Can you speak?" Pitch asked softly. Jack swallowed again. He shook his head. "One moment."

Pitch kissed his shoulder again before lowering Jack's hand to let him go. Almost immediately, a shiver racked in Jack's body, and Pitch was quick to half turn on his side, grabbing an ice cube created by Jack himself from a bowl on the nightstand. He rolled back over to his lover, pressing along his side and resuming his gentle petting of white hair as he placed the cube of ice to Jack's lips. Swollen lips parted just so, and Pitch had to steady his own breathing as he ran it along them, until it melted enough between the heat of his fingers to place in his lover's mouth. Jack moaned a little, sucking on the little cube of ice.

"Good boy," Pitch murmured again. Jack slowly turned his head to look up at him. His eyes were bright in the dark, and Pitch thought he had never looked so lovely. He cupped Jack cheek in his hand, smoothing his thumb over the imprints from the gag. He breathed out a shaky sigh. "Gods, you're so good to me, Jack... My sweet, beautiful Jack..."

Jack managed a ghost of his usual smirk, cheeks flushed. "Flatterer..." His voice cracked with the word, and he bit down on the ice cube in his mouth.

Pitch simply kissed his cheek again. "Is it flattery of I simply speak the truth?" He pulled back to gaze down unblinking into bright blue eyes. "Or because you have yet to believe it?"

Jack looked away, chewing his ice. Pitch gently urged him back with the hand on his cheek. His gaze softened.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, curious and gentle.

It took a moment, and Jack gave him a wry little glare, but when Pitch simply continued to stare, rubbing his cheek and petting his hair, Jack eventually sighed. He shook his head slowly.

"Not..." He licked his lips. "Not in a way I didn't ask for," he admitted. Pitch smiled.

"Good," he muttered. He took Jack's hand in his again, lifting it to his lips. "That's good... I worried I may have gone a bit overboard..." He kissed the delicate wrist again.

Jack shook his head. "You didn't. It was... intense, but so is everything with you." He laughed quietly to himself.

"Oh, is that so?" Pitch murmured. "Should I dial it back?"

"Nah." Jack struggled to sit up, Pitch helping to prop him up against the pillows. He wrapped his arm around Jack's waist, holding him close and stroking his hip lightly. "I like your intensity." His hand shook as he pulled it from Pitch's own, pressing it against his cheek. Pitch's eyes fell closed, and he leaned into the cooling touch with a small smile. "Wouldn't be you without it."

"Hm," Pitch hummed. He turned his head to kiss Jack's palm before opening his eyes, meeting Jack's soft smile with his own, gaze lidded contentedly. "Well, I can't very well let you go, then, can I?"

Jack laughed. "I'd be mad if you did," he admitted. It was quiet and full of love, and Pitch's heart swelled in his chest. Jack's othe hand reached up to tug Pitch's arm. "Kiss me?"

Pitch was quick to sit up further to accommodate him.

---

I went with the aftercare, I hope that's ok!

Partially inspired by this!

[tkdb-hell]

Please kiss number 45 with Taiga please please please please please please please please please please please

#45 - Kisses exchanged as they move around, hitting the edges of tables or nearly tripping over things on the floor before making it to the sofa, or bed.

Kisses Prompt List • Kisses Masterlist

(I do my best to write the reader as gender neutral unless otherwise specified - if you send me an ask and prefer masc or fem, please let me know)

♡ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ♡

The casino lights were dim, casting warm hues over Taiga’s sharp grin as he leaned closer to you, his gold chains glinting with every subtle movement. You barely had time to process the smirk on his lips before his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with enough force to jolt you forward, your hip bumping against the edge of the card table behind you.

“You’re not running off now, are you?” he teased, his voice low and gravelly, full of a playful menace that sent a thrill up your spine. His eyes gleamed under the dim light, unblinking and fixed on you like a predator who had finally cornered its prey. “We’re not done here.”

“I wasn’t going anywhere,” you managed to say, though your words came out breathier than you’d intended. His grip loosened, but only slightly, and then he was pulling you forward, closing the already minimal space between you.

His lips crashed against yours in a kiss that was all heat and chaos, the kind of unrelenting passion you should’ve expected from him but still left you stunned. Taiga wasn’t gentle; he was relentless, demanding. His teeth scraped against your bottom lip before his tongue swept in, coaxing a gasp from you that only seemed to spur him further.

In your haste to keep up with him, you stumbled backward, your heel catching on something—an abandoned drink coaster, maybe. Taiga growled, catching your waist and pulling you upright, but the momentum pushed you both into a nearby side table. The clatter of glass and chips falling to the floor barely registered over the sound of your heartbeat roaring in your ears.

“Watch it,” he murmured against your lips, though the smirk that followed betrayed any actual concern. “Break something expensive and it’s coming outta your pocket, not mine.”

“You sound like Romeo,” you shot back, though the edge in your voice was undermined by the way your hands clutched at his shirt, fingers curling into the fabric as if letting go wasn’t an option.

He let out a low laugh, sharp and dangerous, before diving back in. The kisses came faster now, rougher. His hands found your hips and pulled you into him, guiding you toward his room. The path wasn’t clear; a chair scraped loudly as he kicked it out of the way, and the corner of another table jabbed into your side as he maneuvered you both past it. Each collision only added to the feverish energy between you, your bodies tangling as you tried to find your footing.

“Careful kitty-cat,” you teased, the words barely escaping before another kiss stole them away.

“Shut up,” he growled, his voice thick with need. “You’re lucky I don’t toss you over my shoulder.”

The room tilted as he spun you around, pressing your back against the edge of the bar. His mouth moved to your neck, biting down hard enough to leave a mark. You gasped, the sting melting into pleasure as his hands roamed with no intention of slowing down.

When your back finally hit the edge of the bed, you barely noticed. Taiga’s unrelenting energy pulled you under, his body pushing yours down before you even had time to steady yourself. His kisses never stopped, messy and consuming, his hands gripping your thighs as he pressed his length against you.

“You keep up with me better than I thought,” he murmured, voice dripping with smug amusement. His lips trailed along your jaw, leaving a heat in their wake. “Let’s see if you can handle the rest.”

There was no time to answer—not with the way his mouth claimed yours again, leaving you breathless and at his mercy.

Taiga was chaos incarnate, and you were more than willing to let him take the lead.

[kawaiiblossoms04]

A little sneak of one of the chapters to come! It’s starting to get a little spicy 🌶️

"W-What are you—"

Before you could finish, the sharp crack of his palm meeting your skin echoed in the room. A stinging burn spread instantly, and you jerked forward with a startled yelp, your breath hitching at the unexpected sensation.

"Wait—" you gasped, voice uneven as his large hand pressed over the curve of your bare ass, his grip firm and unrelenting. Your thighs twitched involuntarily beneath his touch.

Sukuna paused, his lips curling into a dark, mocking grin. "Not what you expected, was it, princess?" His tone dripped with amusement, but his crimson eyes glinted with something far more dangerous.

Your cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and humiliation, the reality of your position crashing down on you. "B-Bastard," you spat, voice trembling despite your effort to sound defiant.

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head as if disappointed. "Since you can't seem to learn, it's time I make it stick." His words hung heavy in the air, each one a threat. "You're mine. My rules, my terms. And you crossed the line the moment you dared to dig your filthy little nails into my skin."

"It's nothing serious, really..." he hissed, "...the scratch. But, I'm the General. A Prince." His voice dropped an octave, dark and commanding. "I won't tolerate a bitch like you running wild, defying me at every turn." The slap that followed made you bite back a curse, your breath catching in your throat.

The strikes stung like hell, but resisting only seemed to fuel him, to heighten the thrill he took in asserting his dominance.

Before you could respond, his hand came down again—harder this time. The sharp smack reverberated through the room, leaving your skin searing with pain. "It's just a scratch," you mumbled weakly, immediately regretting your words as his glare sharpened.

You glanced at him, as he rubbed your tender behind. Before his palm struck across the left cheek. "Ghaa!" you gasped and let out a curse and cursed yourself at not following the damn rules. You wiggled to pull out of his grip, but he had a solid hold on your thighs.

Sukuna scoffed, striking your other cheek with the same precision. "And this is just a spanking," he countered, his tone dripping with sarcasm. The sting was unbearable, but you bit down hard on your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you break.

SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.

You gripped his ankle tightly, breath hitching as you fought against his unrelenting grip. Each strike jolted your body, the sting sharper and more unbearable with every blow.

He studied you intently, crimson eyes narrowing as he took in every shiver, every twitch. Your lashes fluttered, nipples hardening against your will, a trail of goosebumps spreading across your skin. Your thighs rubbed together in a futile attempt to quell the unbearable sting, and your belly quivered with each labored breath. He loved how vulnerable you were at the moment and loved the fact, he was in charge.

"How many are we at?" Sukuna asked casually, his fingers tracing the red, swollen marks he'd left on your skin. His question was rhetorical, but there was a sadistic glint in his eye. "I'll start over if you've lost count."

You whimpered, not having a damn clue what number or how much you had actually gone through, but you were desperate to appease him.

"D-don't," you begged. You felt defeated. "T-Twenty-two," you stammered, the number a desperate guess. You prayed he wouldn't call your bluff.

Your body trembled at his sadistic smirk.

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Lying to me again, are we?" His hand landed on your butt with a resounding smack. "One. We'll start over."

Get caught up!

Story Title: A Rose in a Gilded Cage

All rights reserved © 2025 KawaiiBlossoms. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works on any platform.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

William loves doggy. His large frame encloses your body in every way, overpowering you. The power trip he gets reminds you both just how much he can willingly mold you to his whims. His grip tightens, his breathing gets heavier, and his eyes glow with intensity. You can't say no, and you don't want to. It's in that moment that you know you belong to him. Loved your Willy blurb based on this.

thank you thank you!! i love writing these smutty, kinky silly blurbs! they’re a fun little exercise for me 🥰

anyway! we’ve established that willy is an ass man, he loves groping it, biting it, fucking it

some nights he gets you on your hands and knees as the second or third position he fucks you in, other nights it’s immediately to doggy style for him

either way, he loves seeing you from behind, the curves of your waist giving way to the heart shape of your ass. he loves kissing his way up and down your spine, until he gets to your ass cheeks where he’ll bite and suck at the skin until it’s red and the imprints of his teeth stand out sharply

if you’re being naughty, he spanks you, your body jolting up the bed with each smack. his handprint painted in red on your skin, the outline of each finger obvious for him to trace with his finger tips

william folds his whole body over yours, crowding you into the mattress, his chest hair rubbing against the sweaty skin of your back. you’ll drop down onto your elbows to change the angle of his thrusts, heavy and forceful, bullying your g-spot with the head of his cock

the feeling of his body completely covering yours is overwhelming and perfect and makes you come harder than usual. you love feeling his chest and stomach pressed against your back, his hairy thighs against the backs of yours, every inch of his skin touching yours.

you whine and wail his name and he loves it, loves it even more when his cock stuffs your cunt and he buries two fingers in your ass and you can’t breathe from the sensation, pleasure sparking at ever nerve ending until you’re sobbing and coming on his cock, gushing a mess of come onto him and the sheets

he grabs your hips in big hands, gripping you tightly so he can fuck your cunt harder, pulling you back as he pushes forward. he leaves finger shaped bruises on your hips that you love, because it marks you as his

after he’s stretched your ass with his fingers, he spits on your ass cheeks and watches it drip down your curves. gathers your come and the lube and gets your ass all messy and ready for his cock. he takes it slow, always. no matter how hard he fucks your cunt, he treats your ass gently at first, pressing the head in until you’re breathing shakily and begging for more. once he gets the head of his cock in, it’s easier from there, holding your hips in place so he can fuck your ass, watching his cock disappear inside of you

he likes to rub the thick shaft of his cock between your ass cheeks, halfway using you as a toy to get himself off until he comes on your back and his stomach, giving you a couple of quick orgasms with his fingers or his tongue from behind

william would rather come inside of you - either hole - and watch it drip out, but sometimes he shoots his load on your skin and rubs it in, like he’s lotioning up your skin, but he’s just marking you again, making sure you know you’re his.

you’d never think otherwise though, every piece of you belongs to william

when you’re spent, boneless and limp and laying flat on your stomach, william rests his cheek on your ass and nips at your skin, biting and licking until you swat him away too overwhelmed for another second of touch

[alkalinc]

her questioning whether he was enjoying himself had a grin on his features as his gaze lifted to look up at her with a nod of his head. "then they're not real men," he mumbled, pressing his lips against her inner thigh once again. "i feel like i should be the one ready to thank you." as he spoke, his hand trailed between her legs, moving upward until the pads of his fingers brushed between her folds, already feeling how wet she was for him. the feel and sight of her glistening before him made ryan hum and he licked his lips. "you just get comfortable, babygirl."

his head turned to graze his teeth over her other thigh, biting down gently to suck a mark into her soft skin as his fingers teased over her before one finger slipped past her arousal and eased inside of her pussy. he felt her clench up around him and looked up to see her lips part, causing him to smile at the sight. his finger curved inside of her and rubbed against her sweet spot as his single digit pumped in and out of her with the tip of his tongue teasing over her clit.

she smiled when he said he wanted her all to himself tonight and she nodded her head, "as you wish," she murmured and wrinkled up her nose. she watched as he let his own towel drop to the floor and she laughed as he climbed up along the bed. "after? after what?" she asked and ran her fingers through his hair as he kissed her stomach. her lips parted as he spread her legs and she moved down on the bed a little more. he placed her leg over his shoulder and she smiled down at him as his gaze met hers. his teeth moved against her skin and she swallows thickly until he bites down on her inner thigh and she gasped, squirming against him.

"oh, i was a mess before that, but yes...it got pretty messing as i was swallowing you whole," she teased him and tilted her head to the side. she gave him a look and bit down on her lip. "are you going to enjoy yourself?" she asked and gave a quiet chuckle. she ran her fingers through his curls and she situated herself better so she was even closer to him. "most men don't really worry about this part. it's all about them, so...thank you. feels weird to be thanking you for eating me out, but here we are. weirder things have happened." she snorted and wrinkled up her nose again. she rolled her neck and laid her head back, ready to relax.

[ghouljams]

Absolutely cannot have fresh shaved/waxed pussy around the 141 boys.

Soap will cry over it, mourning the loss of your bush and "talking his girl(your pussy) through the loss" ie fingering you until you're soaked and sore as punishment.

Price will make it his mission to give you beard burn, shaking his head like a damn dog while he's eating you out, scratching the hell out of your pussy and thighs with his beard. He's trying to bleach the damn thing you just know it.

Ghost is the worst. Taking the opportunity to leave his dental imprint in the soft flesh surrounding your clit. He's going to bite until you're sobbing just to see the dimpled marks he's left.

At least Gaz is sweet. Pressing little kisses over the newly shaved/waxed skin, giving your clit soft little licks and pulling back to rub his fingers against your clit with gentle praises. Until you realize he's been doing that for the last hour, giving you just enough to keep you making those nice breathy noises but never giving you more. Maybe you should try Soap again...

[webism]

☆ bestfriend!satoru likes seeing you in his clothes a little too much.

it starts with lending you a jacket when you're out late and it gets cold. he laughs at you first, makes fun of the way you shiver, but then his eyes drift and he realises he can see your hardened nipples through your shirt and suddenly he's layering you up in his jacket just to keep his mind from short-circuiting.

but the sight of you in his jacket is no help either, not when you drown in it because he's so damn tall and he's reminded of the difference in size between the two of you and for the first (more like third) time he's wondering what you'd look like beneath him in a mean mating press. how you'd feel shaking under his body weight: like how you're shaking now, but pleasure wracking your body rather than the cold wind.

he tells himself it's fine to have these thoughts. you're his best friend, you spent every waking hour together: it's only natural that his thoughts would eventually drift southwards. he'll snap out of it, he just needs to jerk off and clear his mind.

so he walks you home, and lets you keep the jacket.

but that night, he's in the shower with hot water scalding his skin, eyes squeezed shut as he strokes his cock at an inhuman pace. fucks his fist with anything but you in mind—he thinks about all his past trysts, about whatever porn he's seen lately, about his fucking cursed technique.

and he thinks he has it, he's pumping his cock with crazed strokes in an attempt to cum and clear his mind, but just as that pleasure starts to break into white hot lust, all he sees is you. in nothing but his jacket, wrecked on his cock and begging him for more.

and when he cums, he sees your eyes pleading up at him from where you’d rest on your knees, ready to take his load into your mouth because you crave the taste. He swears he can feel your fingers splayed over his thighs… your tongue tracing the pronounced vein that runs up the underside of his cock… your heated presence in the shower alongside him.

satoru says your name as he cums, and realises he’s wholly fucked and not coming back from this.

so, naturally, gojo plays into it.

the next time you see him is at his place, you come around to spend time with him and talk about the mundane that always seems exciting when spoken in the lilt of your voice. he offers you a drink, pours you a glass of red and promptly spills it over your pretty top—purely accidental, of course.

and he only takes a moment to admire the way the soaked fabric clings to your skin before he’s bolting into action and offering you a shirt of his own.

“it’s like you’re trying to steal my wardrobe, huh? first my jacket… now my shirt… got something to admit to, hm? you like wearing my clothes?”

it’s playful banter, you think, and roll your eyes with a huff as he hands you a shirt that’s oversized even on him. he wants to see you drown in the fabric, covered in him through clothing until he can cover you in another aspect of himself.

you make him look away while you change, though you know it’s an effort wasted because he’s all-seeing or whatever. and when satoru finally gets a look at you in his shirt he knows it’s game over. it’s like he’s left a mark on you, staked him claim not through bite marks or hickies as he usually would, but through the fabric that adorns your skin. his clothes smell like him, look like him, and are being worn by you.

he’s beyond hard, his cock is tenting his pants and he’s almost offended you haven’t yet noticed, because there’s no hiding a boner when you’re his size. you’re sweet enough not to look, even steal a glance out of curiosity—but he isn’t; his eyes are roaming your skin in such a heated way you feel feverish. it’s how he notices the wine that has spilt on your skirt as well.

he could tell you—offer you a pair of his sweats and cum in his own pants as the way they’d hang off your hips—but he doesn’t. instead, your best friend satoru gojo, the man you know like scripture, drops to his knees and takes the hem of your skirt between his fingers.

“what are you doing?” you think he’s cruel for a joke like this, when he looks so good on his knees, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips as if he’s aching for a taste of you. you squeeze your thighs together, groan at the thought of gojos relentless teasing if he realises you’re soaking wet right now. “this isn’t funny.”

“i’m not laughing,” he says, tone flat. “your skirt is stained.”

“oh,” it is, you can see the wine seeping into the fabric.

gojo laughs, his grin sinful. “what? you get all flustered when i’m on my knees? how lewd.”

“shut up,” you try and step backwards, put some space between him and your pulsing heat, but his hands come to grip your thighs, fingers cool as they brush under your skirt and press into your skin. “you’re an asshole, toru.”

“i know,” his fingers creep higher. “i’m sorry.”

“no you’re not.”

“i know,” he parrots. “but you will be.”

“wh—“

in one practiced movement, satoru rips your skirt down and exposes you to him. he has to bunch up the shirt of his you wear with one hand and keep you from running with the other, but he’s met with a beautiful sight as a reward for all his pining.

“for coming to my house with no fucking panties on and acting like you don’t want me to fuck you like we’re more than friends.”

you learnt quickly upon befriending satoru gojo that he always seems to get what he wants. this is no exception, because after he spends so long fucking you with his tongue that his knees go numb against the cold tile, he’s got you laid down on his couch, his t shirt bunched up over your waist just enough for him to watch his cock sink into you over and over and over again.

he loves the sight of you grabbing at the fabric to keep it out of the way— how you whine for him to just let you take it off, all for him to press his lips to yours and conjoin you so you couldn’t undress even if you tried.

how with each thrust of his ravaging cock into you, he’s whining like he’s not the one in control. babbling filth as if he’s not got you pinned and taking every last inch of him—he’s pussy drunk and overbearing in his excitement and slurring his words as he speaks against your open mouth.

“never allowed to wear your own clothes again,” he steals your breath with each gasp he gives between thrusts. “only mine. i’ll burn yours, fuck, i hate your clothes.”

“you…” gojos fast rutting stalls your sentence. “…you brought me that skirt.”

“yeah? well where is it now?”

you recall the lecture you tried to give him when he threw your wine-stained skirt into his trash bin. you’d protest his dictation of what you wear if you had the mind to do so—but his cock is hitting your g spot in tandem with the ministries of his fingers over your clit… you’re half-near brain dead with the way he splits you open and unravels you like the threading of his clothes he’s fucking you in.

you can’t count your orgasms, only feel them shoot static up your spine with each one gojo manages to pull from you. and when he cums, spills over your parted thighs to dress you further in the essence of him, you swear you hear him babble something about putting a ring on your finger some day, to dress you in something of his permanently.

but friends don’t talk like that.

they don’t fuck like this either, though.

[chososrightnipple]

❝𝗷𝗷𝗸 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘀 + 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗿 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘀❞

a/n: i'm going insane guys anyway love u all mwah <333333 afab body but no gendered language btw!

part two.

── დ ──

. *. ⋆ GOJO SATORU

▸ creampies. please just let this man cum inside of you omg he'll go insane. seeing the way his release leaks out of you afterward has him ready for another round almost immediately.

▸ dacryphilia. "you crying'?" says it all right there. he'll coo, a bit mocking, and wipe at the tears running down your cheeks.

▸ size difference. he's so big compared to you. his height, his hands, his dick. he gets off on it so hard seeing you have to look up at him :(

▸ praise (giving + receiving). he'll charm your panties off if you really want, just make sure to let him know how good he's fucking you, too.

▸ overstimulation. hand in hand with dacryphilia. he's not done with you until he's shooting blanks and you're a weeping mess below him.

▸ breeding. listen.. he needs an heir for the gojo clan. he'll fuck you into the mattress for hours on end- he just wants to make sure his baby takes, that's all.

▸ orgasm denial. he's a cocky man, and he knows it. he loves the exhilaration he gets controlling your orgasm, making you beg for it before he gives you any satisfaction.

▸ pussy/thigh/boob jobs. he wants to put good use to all of your body.

. *. ⋆ GETO SUGURU

▸ choking. the feeling of you swallowing as his large hands cusp at your neck is like a drug to him.

▸ begging. seeing you so compliant under him as you plead and cry for his touch... those pretty little eyes and wobbling lip. it's mean, he knows that. he just couldn't care less.

▸ sense deprivation. tying you up and blindfolding you, giving him all that power? he goes crazy for it.

▸ degradation. you wanna be fucked like a slut, he's gonna treat you like one.

▸ edging. when he's feeling really mean, he'll edge you for hours. until you're shaking and whining and the only word you can get out is a broken moan of his name.

▸ impact play. he loves waking up and seeing the red imprint of his hand on your ass oh my godddd don't get him started.

▸ hair pulling (receiving). he wants you to tug at his hair, card your fingers through it, pull it as you're riding his face!!!

▸ sadism. pretty much hand in hand with everything above. he's such a mean boyfriend but he knows how much you love it.

. *. ⋆ CHOSO KAMO

▸ biting. your shoulders, neck, and thighs are full of his teeth marks, almost perpetually. and of course he's not gonna complain if you leave a few bites, too.

▸ begging. show him how much you want him, how badly you need him, and he'll fuck you as much as you want. you just gotta put in a little work first.

▸ worship (giving + receiving). seriously this man worships the ground you walk on from the moment you wake up to the second you fall asleep. he just asks you worship his cock the same

▸ overstimulation. he's fuckin you until his legs are giving out from under him and you're nothing but a fucked out, drooling mess being pressed into the bed.

▸ blood play. i mean... i think this is a given.. will purposefully bite down too hard just to lick the blood clean as an apology.

▸ orgasm denial. he knows once you cum, it's over, and he just wants to stay sat in your pretty pussy a little bit longer- you understand that, right?

▸ somnophilia. his favorite breakfast is in between your thighs. besides, you don't think there's any better way to wake up, anyway.

▸ voyeurism. pleaseeee pleaseee pleaseee let him watch you masturbate it's all he needs in this world !!!!!

. *. ⋆ SUKUNA RYOMEN

▸ anal. he needs to claim every hole your body has to offer. plus true form sukuna is a slut for his double penetration just saying

▸ choking. hearing your choked gasps as he squeezes your throat could make him cum on the damn spot. watching your eyes roll into the back of your head as each second passes on.

▸ exhibitionism. no, he doesn't care that there are other curses around and no, he doesn't care if they can see. you're his, and he'll fuck you anywhere he wants to.

▸ extreme bondage. watching your poor, writhing little human body tug at your restraints uselessly is something he'll never get tired of.

▸ collaring. he'll even get his name custom engraved, just so everyone who looks at you know exactly who you belong to.

▸ degradation. he's a mean thing, but you seem to enjoy that for some reason. he savors in the way you clench around him every time he calls you a whore.

▸ edging. you're not allowed to cum until he's says so, and anything before that? you're in for one hell of a night.

▸ predator/prey. let him chase you through the woods as foreplay. he'll inevitably catch up, of course, but seeing you attempt to get away is so cute to him. especially when he's had enough of the teasing and is pinning you against the nearest tree.