#so he laughs it off and is “fine” with it but this is going to be an absolute powder keg when Kiatcarmen dies

[artemisiasmuse]

rafe cameron x sweet virgin!reader

she told you she celibate but she told me I can nail her shit

cw: mdni 18+, virgin!reader but has some other experience, lowkey a freak tho, toxic rafe, corruption kink : >, size kink, first times, rafe goes a lil crazy, sweetie pie reader x insane yandere bf rafe is lowkey my favorite trope

a/n: happy valentine’s day my loves <3 i didn’t read this over and i’m so sorry if there’s hella mistakes i will fix it later! this may or not be self-insert yes even that part

the trouble all began with sarah cameron and her big mouth. well really both of you were to blame, but you’d think she would be quieter when her older brother was lurking around. you were older than her by a few years, closer to his age than hers, not that it mattered though, rafe treated you like you were practically wheezie’s age. you didn’t let it sting you any more you had long gotten over trying to be seen as a woman in rafe cameron’s eyes. or maybe you just stopped watching him, he’s always noticed you but you felt out reach, until now. when he overhears his sister’s words he almost breaks the glass of water he’s holding.

“a virgin at 19 looking like you do is insane” sarah looked you up and down as you tried on the dress you’d bought together at the mall. you got shy at her words, you knew she wasn’t judging you but instead genuinely in disbelief that men weren’t throwing themselves at you. you had long mastered the art of looking unapproachable and uninterested after too many bad experiences.

“stoppp is it so hard to believe, you know how bad it’s been for me?” he really hopes no one sees him leaning against the wall next to his sister’s door, he’d look like such a weirdo. wheezie would never let him live this down, she’d barely held back on letting his little crush slip before. if sarah ever found out he’d be in another hell.

“fuck you’re right, if they can’t make you come what’s the point?” rafe winced at his sister’s words, willing away the temptation to gag. he was trying to focus on the fact that no guy had made you come before instead.

“you’re awful, but i’m done with men for a long time. im gonna focus on college and not waste time on them.” he relished in the twisted feeling that no one could touch you, even if the losers before had a chance they clearly couldn’t cut it.

“righttt being in a dorm filled with horny guys is gonna make that easier.” sarah deadpanned and you shoved her, seeing her point. you hadn’t thought about it like that.

“okay leave me alone i’ve been successful so far”

“oh my god speak of the devil, john b’s calling me over, can you cover for me? i’ll be back in like two hours max, promise.” you were a little disappointed she was leaving you but you knew how difficult it was for her to see him without someone covering for her. you nodded and pulled out your phone.

“fine but i’m ordering pizza,” rafe didn’t know if he should be terrified or elated that you two would be home alone for two hours. why did it have to be today that the rest of his family fucked off? was this divine intervention?

“save me a slice!” rafe could hear his sister rustling around, getting ready to go, so he did the same.

“you’re gonna be too busy eating di-“ rafe promptly ran off at that. he’d heard enough, his imagination would run wild with this new information.

it was half an hour later when, like clockwork, rafe made sure to be near the front door for the pizza delivery. he paid and tipped the guy, while you were making your way down at the sound of the doorbell. he hurries back upstairs, nearly running into you on the stairs. your eyes trace his pretty features and then land on the box in his hands, shock and horror cascading your face. rafe can’t believe that you look so good even now, you’re wearing a crop top with seemingly no bra underneath and high waisted sweatpants. to him you look like a model.

“hey! that’s my pizza” rafe laughs and continues up the stairs, you turn on your heel and follow him up. you’re kinda hangry and your pizza being held hostage is not helping your mood.

“i just paid for it so i don’t think so.” you both reach the top of the stairs but rafe isn’t stopping, he’s going to his room instead. this won’t do, he’ll lock the door and slam it in your face, you quickly move to stand in front of him blocking the path to his doorway. rafe thinks it’s cute that you think that would stop him, he feels a bit stir crazy over how small you look gazing up at him

“i’ll pay you back!” your hands shoot up against the doorframe, blocking entry even further. he wants to tease you a bit more but the idea of sharing a pizza in his room is way more tempting.

“nah it’s fine just let me have some.” you release your blockade and let him move past you, still with his-your pizza in his hold, following him mindlessly. if you were less hungry you would’ve realized eating pizza with your longtime crush and best friend’s brother in his room sitting on his bed was in fact not a great idea. but that fleeting concern is out the window when he opens the box and you climb onto his bed like it’s second nature. rafe does his best to stay concentrated on the present, it’s difficult when your shirt rides up and a sliver of your stomach is displayed, it looks so soft and untouched and he really isn’t hungry for pizza, he never was.

“i was gonna offer anyways for the record.” you say it while picking up a slice and rafe mirrors your action, laughing at your tone.

“yeah sure you were princess,” you ignore the way his voice sounds, the way he says your name, the way his room smells like him and it’s making your head spin.

rafe watches you eat transfixed when you lick the tips of your fingers, he can’t believe that he’s struggling to control himself over pizza but your words are ringing in his head.

“rafe do you have any napkins?” you hold up your greasy fingers and he nods his head dazedly, getting up to grab some for you and taking the pizza box off his bed with him. you move to get off then, looking around his room, you knew he wouldn’t appreciate if you snooped through his things so you just look at the pictures on the wall, the books he has. rafe finds you standing near his desk when he comes back, wordlessly handing you the napkins.

“i always forget you have a motorcycle.” your head motions towards the helmet resting on the surface of his desk.

“i don’t use it as much now.” he leaned back against the footboard of his bed, arms crossed against his chest as he watched you look at his stuff. he couldn’t figure out why you were still in his room, were you that curious?

“can i ride it? i’ve always wanted to try.” yeah rafe might just pass out now. you don’t even know what you’re doing to him, head cocked to the side looking at him so innocently he can barely hold back much longer.

“sure but i gotta teach you the basics so you don’t crash.” rafe is proud of himself for even stringing a sentence together in response. you notice a slight flush to his cheeks and ears.

“okay that’s fair.” you turn towards him, mirroring his form and leaning back against his desk. there’s a few feet between you but rafe thinks it would be so easy to lift you onto the mahogany and kiss you until you can’t breathe. his shorts feel so restrictive and he’s grateful he’s wearing black. he can’t hold back any longer, he has to know.

"is it true?" the words come out rushed, unsure of if they should even be said in the first place. but rafe’s not a quitter and he doesn’t shy away from anything really, even if the past few hours feel like a dream he would have in middle school.

"is what true?" your head does that thing again like a puppy and he nearly keels over, you’re too adorable for your own good. his gaze flits away for a second, he has to commit. your trusting expression and your airy tone make it all the more hard.

"no guy's made you come before?" you blink in shock twice before covering your face with your hands. this must be the most embarrassing moment of your life.

"ugh you heard that?"

"yeah you guys aren't exactly quiet" you might have to kill sarah cameron in her sleep, if she even comes back that is. you don’t know why you answer him, you could have just ran away but the magnetic pull of rafe cameron coaxes you to answer.

"yeah it's true" you sound defeated and rafe has to hold back a snicker, he watches you peer through your fingers at him, watching his expression.

"well i can rectify that..you know for the sake of mankind and all" there’s a smirk on his lips as he says the words that will haunt you forever. you’re sure he’s just messing with you and you huff a breath of disbelief. did he know about your little crush? you’d been hiding it so well for the past few years!

"don't tease me, rafe" you step away from his desk, moving to leave his room. even if it was just the two of you in the house you’d much rather sit in sarah’s room or watch the tv than be ridiculed.

"i'm not, it'd be a shame if a pretty girl like you gave up on men, especially for me." it’s almost as if someone dumped a bucket of cold water on your head when rafe cameron speaks. pretty girl the first time he’s called you anything that might suggest you’re not just his sister’s friend. the world spins on its axis and you try to grasp onto his words, try to understand that he might be genuine but you can’t. there’s still that voice of doubt telling you he’s just messing with you. rafe watches your expression go from shock to disappointment, you don’t believe him. he supposes it’s not that believable when he’s been purposefully avoiding you for a while. you must think he’s just messing with you, but he’s dead serious. he’ll just have to prove it.

“whatever rafe i don’t have time for your games.” you mumble it and leave his room, slamming the door a bit harder than you intended. the next few hours are torture. rafe cameron planted an insidious weed in your mind and it’s growing exponentially.

of course it’s not the first time you’ve imagined it, you’d often thought about what his long thick fingers would feel like. or how his biceps would feel under your hands if you held onto them for support. you’d fantasized about every part of him, even the tip of his nose. so the idea that it might just be within your reach had you spiraling. you took a cold shower, not that it helped, your underwear was still soaked after. no guy you’d been with had made you so wet, let alone before even touching you. it was as if the universe was testing you. a sick thrum in your body had found its way into your bones, vibrating with need and you paced in your best friend’s room thinking over all the consequences.

when you’d reached the conclusion that even if he was sincere it was still a bad idea, your phone pinged. a text from sarah that read: “i’m gonna be staying the night here, if you’re already asleep i’ll see you in the morning 🤍” with all your internal turmoil you hadn’t realized it was past the two hours she’d said. she would be out all night. you and rafe were home alone, all night. you swallowed down the lump in your throat, your heart pounding your chest. your feet were moving faster than your head, the pitter patter of your footsteps almost as fast as your heartbeat, and before you knew it you were in front of his door. you hesitated for a second breathing in deep once before knocking, the light was still on so you knew he was awake.

“yeah?” rafe did his best to hide the satisfaction he felt seeing you twitchy and shy in front of his door. you swallowed down again, looking up at him with as much confidence as you could. there was a few seconds of silence, he gave you the time you needed, looking down at you with bright inviting eyes.

“is your offer still on the table?” his face split into a grin, moving aside to let you in like you’d done before and with no hesitation you pushed past him. even the small graze of your shoulder against him set his skin ablaze. he was going to lose his mind.

“‘doesn’t really have an expiration date.” your mind was blanking at his every advance, you tried not to think about his words, you couldn’t afford to fall deeper for him.

“just don’t like tell anyone about this?” you murmured, watching him close the door behind you two and getting a bit nervous. if sarah found out you’d be in for hell. losing your virginity to your best friend’s brother wasn’t exactly a great conversation to have.

“i’m not topper don’t worry.” you believed him, rafe despite his other faults, was always respectful.

“can i kiss you?” you nodded fervently, rafe held back a laugh at your enthusiasm. he walked up to you slowly as if giving you the chance to run and slid his hands from his hips to the curve of your waist. you stood on your tiptoes, your arms going around his neck and rafe couldn’t believe this was real. maybe if he pretended it was a dream he wouldn’t be so nervous. he’d have to do just that. one of his hands cupped your face, thumb stroking along your cheekbone and your eyelashes fluttered closed at the touch. he pressed a tentative kiss to your lips.

his lips felt soft and you breathed out in relief after, as if some sort of spell was lifted. rafe kissed you again, this time letting himself breathe you in. you felt so small and delicate in his hold, he wanted to take his time with you. you had other ideas. kissing rafe cameron felt even better than you’d imagined, when he pulled back you surged forward this time, biting his lower lip making him groan into your mouth. another chill of desire wracked your body at the sound and you tested the waters by licking the seem of his lips. rafe pulled you even closer and bent down to kiss you deeper. his mouth opened and his tongue met yours. you tasted so good to him he couldn’t stop himself from sucking on your tongue slightly, making you whine in his hold. the sound flipped a switch in his mind, he wanted more of the sound, he needed to hear you say his name in that airy desperate sound again. a string of saliva connected your lips and snapped off in the middle, your breathing was heavy and his was too. you caught your breath all the while looking up at him, he held your gaze. the furrow of your brows grew deeper the longer you looked.

“we don’t have to do anything else.” him asking for consent again drew in another crushing wave of arousal, you were a lost cause. okay maybe your standards were in hell. even his cologne was better than any other guy, something woodsy and heavy, mature, not like the shitty ones you’d had to smell before.

“no-no i want to,” he’d have to ask you later why you looked so mad after kissing him, right now he had too much else to do. you could only watch as he lifted you by the grip on your waist, your legs going around his hips in fear of falling. he’d done it so casually you couldn’t process it in time. rafe set you down gently on his mattress, his weight pressed into you and your legs tightened around him. he kissed you again, already missing the taste of your lips, and leaned back. you realized what he was about to do as he sat back on his knees.

“no i-can you just come up here?” you felt far too shy for him to eat you out and although rafe respected your wishes he was a bit disappointed. he’d just have to make sure there was a next time. there were other ways to taste you anyways. he followed your lead, leaning back over you and kissing you again, tongue and teeth clashing together in need. one of his hands moved from your waist up and under the hem of your shirt, traveling up slowly until he reached the fat of your breast. the feeling of his fingers on your nipple jolted your body. usually you didn’t get anything out of a guy touching your boobs but him you were arching into his touch, huffing into his mouth. rafe loved how sensitive you were, reacting to every touch of his. he massaged the tit in his hand, reveling in how you squirmed underneath him. if you kept moving you’d feel how painfully hard he was in his shorts.

after giving up on kissing you he peeled off your crop top, trailing kisses down your neck. he bit at the skin and sucked, surely littering your neck with hickies. you smelled so sweet to him and he couldn’t get enough, biting hard in the juncture between your neck and shoulder. you squeaked at the feeling, shocked at how pleasure blurred the lines of the pain you should be feeling. being marked by rafe was transcendental.

“look at you, so fucking pretty.” you met his gaze, his eyes raking down your chest and back to your face. the compliment made your head even cloudier, you’d let him do anything he wanted already, and it didn’t even scare you. his mouth trailed lower, biting at the tops of your breasts before latching onto your nipple and sucking, biting and laving over the sensitive nub with his tongue. you writhed under him, desperate for some friction between your legs. you huffed out a breath in frustration. he took his time bruising your chest with his marks. everyone should know who you belonged to. he leaned back to admire his work, his eyes finally meeting yours and seeing your waterline filled with unshed tears. god he was being so cruel, you just wanted to come and here he was doing as he pleased.

“rafe can i have your fingers please?” he was about to take pity on you anyway but the desperate sound of you begging was too delicious to give up. he looped his fingers through yours, hands intertwined against the silk sheets next to your shoulder.

“fuuckkk when you ask like that how can i say no?” his eyes nearly rolled back in his head from your voice, he might just come from it alone. “how d’ya want them?” he knew, of course he knew, he just wanted to hear you say it. your lips were swollen from his kisses and you still managed to look so innocent under him, he wanted to mark every inch of your body so no one could touch you again.

“you know!” you huffed out, a pout on your lips that he kissed away, you still looked at him with frustration. your underwear was practically sticking to you now, you felt so warm and uncomfortable between your legs, desperate for friction. you’d never felt like this before, completely wrecked with need, unable to think about anything besides addressing your desire.

“spell it out for me, i can’t think clearly right now.” he kissed under your ear coaxing you into submission, a purr curled through you at the feeling. his lips were featherlight against you, soft and adoring and you couldn’t remember why you were holding back.

“‘wan you to fuck me with them.” it was a small mumble, slipping past your lips but rafe caught it nevertheless. his free hand hooked into your pants and pulled them down, you kicked them off and let him settle back between your legs. at least being out of your pants gave your legs some reprieve but the cool air only illuminated how drenched your underwear was. rafe’s large hand skimmed past your breasts to your stomach and rested against your waistband. he looked to you for admission and you nodded your head. instead of dipping underneath the band he trailed downwards, over the flimsy material. the ghost of his touch near your clit had you jerking under him, your hands flying to his shoulders. two large fingers pressed against the fabric, right above your opening, his fingers felt moist and he clicked his tongue at the feeling.

“baby you soaked through your panties, whose got you so worked up?” you whined, a pretty throaty sound that you’d been holding in and he vowed to pull more from you. his fingers were skimming along your opening, teasing the fabric and not quite touching you. your legs wanted to close on his hand but your hips moved closer, trying to make him touch you.

“you!” you screamed out, eyes squeezed shut as he removed his hand completely. you’d start leaking through them if he didn’t do something soon.

“that’s right me, not those fucking losers, just me.” his free hand, closed around your chin making you open your eyes and meet his. he looked crazed, pupils blown and overshadowing the blue with hooded eyes and a satisfied grin curling his lips. when you met his gaze he finally dipped his fingers beneath the band and pressed his thumb against your clit. he found it with such ease your eyes rolled back into your skull, gasping at the feeling of finally being touched. “i got you baby,” your legs spread wider for him, pulling him into you as his fingers slid through your drooling folds all the while his thumb ground against you. his fingers were so much larger than yours you could feel him everywhere. he prodded your hole with his index finger, grunting at how tight you were. streams of arousal kept pouring out of you, you needed him to do something. you squirmed under him again and rafe acquiesced, shoving his finger in. you were so tight and warm around him, slippery and soft walls hugged him as he stretched you out with one finger alone. “f-fucking tight,” he was gonna start soiling his shorts from the way you felt around his finger alone. he fucked you slow and deep, feeling along your insides for your sensitivity. he knew as soon as he found it because you screamed his name, hands clutching his arms tightly.

“feels weird,” he let you get used to the feeling, his thumb grinding against your clit. you were already feeling close and he’d barely started.

“poor pussy probably never felt this good huh?” you whimpered at his words, he was being so filthy and usually it turned you off. nothing about rafe could do that at this point. you shook your head, affirming his suspicions and his middle finger circled your opening. he was gentler this time, moving his fingers in inch by inch until you stopped clamping down. the pressure of him stretching you wasn’t unbearable but you didn’t know how you’d ever take more than his fingers at this rate. he accurately hammered against that spot, out for blood, while his thumb circled your clit. you were dripping onto his hand, coating him with your juices and the squelch of his fingers fucking into you filled the room. the sounds were so obscene you tried blocking them out with your pathetic little whines but rafe was determined to hear your soppy cunt crying for him. it wasn’t long before you felt the encroaching of your release and he knew it he could feel it in the way you clenched around him and whined when his fingers pulled out completely. one more carress of the sensitive gummy spot inside you had you seeing white. your vision blurred as you shook in your release, holding his wrist so he’d stop his motions, shivers wracked your body as you came the hardest you ever had. your walls fluttered around him, more of your release dripping down your cunt and soaking the sheets below. he was sick enough to leave them like that for the night, you smelled so sweet and he bet you tasted even better.

his fingers dipped out of your underwear and your eyes opened to watch him, probably a mistake on your part because just the vision of rafe cameron licking his fingers clean and groaning at the taste made you ready to go again. his eyes rolled back in his head at the taste, his eyes ground shut at the sugary flavor coating his tongue and teeth. he really hoped you’d let him have more later because now that he’d had a taste he wanted the full meal. you shivered at the way he reacted, your whole body on high alert from your orgasm, but even as sensitive as you were you couldn’t help but be greedy.

“rafe, can we go further?” his heart might just give out, you look nervous even now after he’s already addicted. he moves back slightly, pulling his shirt over his head and your eyes are drawn to his chest.

“never thought you’d ask.” you’re not even trying to hide how you ogle him, seeing him at the beach is one thing but in front of you, when you can touch him is another. rafe watches you reach a hand out, slightly out of range and moves closer to you, letting you touch him. your smalls hands traverse the expanse of his shoulders, his pecs, and trace the outline of his abs. when they reach the tuft of hair above his waistband, rafe has to stop you. the tiny fleeting touches make him twitch in his pants. he moves your hand to rest against his shoulder, pulling your underwear all the way off and looking down at how he completely drowns your body out.

“fuckkk can’t believe im the lucky one who gets to break this little pussy in,” he kisses along your neck, hands squeezing your waist and marveling at how diminutive you feel. he can’t wait to be inside you, he wonders if you’ll even be able to take him.

“s-so dirty” his words are heating up your entire body and you’d feel embarrassed if you weren’t arching into him. rafe moves to pull down his shorts, waiting a beat before he does.

“you sure you want this?” while taking your virginity was something he could only dream about before he needed to be sure.

“yes i want it to be you, i trust you.” you say it as normally as you can.

“we can stop whenever you want, like i said ‘offer’s not gonna expire.” you hope you can take it up even after this, maybe not even once or twice. if he could make you feel like this why would you need anyone else? then he pulls his shorts off and you start to regret your decision.

“oh-is th-that gonna fit?” his cock sprung out and slapped against his stomach, long and thick and way too big for you. you could barely take his fingers this would never fit. it looked so angry white precum dribbling down stark against the flushed pink curling along the veins and curving with him to the right. you wouldn’t survive this.

“you’ll do your best right?” you nod enthusiastically, you wanted to take as much as you could. “good girl.” oh, you’d have to explore that later. you nearly moaned at him calling you that. rafe caught it though, he knew your reactions well by now. he lined it up over your stomach, seeing how far it would go and your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. your belly button was completely covered, not that it mattered he was halfway up your torso. rafe’s grip on your waist tightened, he’d ruin you for anyone else, stretch you out and mold you just for him. no one would feel as good as him and he nearly drooled at the sight.

despite how feral he felt, he made sure you were still wet enough for him to slip in, you were. his tip pressed against you, he let you drool onto him, juices swirling with his and making a sick plap plap plap sound as he tapped against you. he’s far wider than his fingers and you tried to relax. you motioned for him to come closer, his lips out of reach and you kissed him sweetly. when he could feel you relax he pushed in, instantly being shoved out. so tight he couldn’t even get the tip in. “fuuckkkk gonna have to marry you.” you don’t even process his words and he doesn’t really know he’s saying them out loud either. he tries again, pulling you slightly onto his length and you gasp at the stretch. you’re gripping him like a vice and it’s nearly uncomfortable but being inside you breaks something inside of him and he’s drooling into your mouth. you don’t even care you want more. “doin well angel-hah-taking me so well.”

the pain is an afterthought now, you want him to stretch you and fill you until you can’t breathe. you don’t know if you’ve wanted anything more in your life. so you do the unthinkable, you try moving down his length. rafe can’t be held responsible for his actions after that.

he gives into your silent plea, skewering you on his cock and pushing past your gooey rings of resistance until he’s halfway in. you held your breath the entire time as he curved into you, tip smearing precum along your walls as he molded you to him, his veins catching on your entrance and making you jolt at the feeling. you push at his chest, the pain making you scream his name as he lets you adjust. there’s tears trailing down your cheek that he licks away. he kisses you until the ache between your legs becomes distant, it’s salty and sloppy but it distracts you enough. rafe makes the mistake of looking down, sees the way you’re gaping for him and how it looks like he’s splitting you in half and he bottoms out. the snap of his hips against yours makes you moan, he’s filled you up now and you can feel him in your throat. you swear you feel him get bigger when you whine his name pathetically, his dick twitching inside you.

it’s too much and you try running from it, shoving up the length of the bed but rafe just pulls you back down. “t-too big hng can’t-“

“come on i thought you were-fuck-a big girl,” he groans into your ear, you shove against him once more and he slips out a few inches, just enough for you to relax. you can still feel him nestled against your cervix, he’s leaking into you and your thighs are coated in both of your arousal. you tap his shoulder for him to move again, pulling out until his tip is the only thing inside and then spearing all the way back in. the feeling makes you cross-eyed, his throbbing tip bumps along your sensitive spot until it nestles against you, as far high up as it can and you think you might be coming on every thrust because you’re so obscenely wet more slick just pours out of you every time. rafe knows it’s because there’s no space for anything but his cock and he can’t help but grin, watching your pussy engulf his length despite how small you are under him. every thrust sends your whole body upwards but his grip on you keeps you close, he’s almost fucking you back onto him.

“feels good hah,” you finally murmur into his neck, wrapping your legs around his hips so he can drill into you better. his thrusts are deep and slow, letting you get used to the feeling but you don’t think you like it like this. if he’s going to ruin you he might as well do it properly. “h-harder.” rafe moans your name at your request, his voice sounds so wrecked you clench down at the sound alone.

“turned this pussy into a slut, ‘couldn’t even take-hah-two fingers now look at you.” really he’s proud of you, proud that he made you like this. although he wants to tease you he can’t hold back much longer either and it’s your first time so he’s gonna be nice to you. rafe pulls out and slams back into you setting a faster rougher pace, your skin is slapping against each other and you think he might bruise your hips. your head is shoved up the length of his bed until it threatens to bump against the headboard, he puts his hand between you and the wood, his other hand holding onto the frame for support. your legs are being bent and pressed to the sides and the new angle makes him hit that spot with blaring accuracy. a sick ring of white forms at the base of his dick and his balls are slippery from your arousal. you still have a vice grip around him, something he won’t get used to but is definitely get addicted to. the room smells filthy and the sounds of you chanting his name combined with the squelch of your cunt is pornographic.

“gonna be a good girl and come around my cock?” your walls flutter at his words, like his permission has you ready to come. you come undone with one more thrust, your cunt is milking him as if coaxing him to come. “fuck fuck fuckkkk.” he pulls out just in time to come onto your stomach, shooting thick gooey ropes onto your soft skin. the white contrasts the blue and purple that is starting to bloom around your neck and tits.

you blearily watch it happen, disappointed he didn’t come inside, but warm and fuzzy from your release. there’s one thought nagging you though as you rest comfortably on his sticky soaked sheets. “it wasn’t a one time offer right?”

“no fucking way, i’m never letting you go.” rafe looks at you like you’re crazy, he’s ready to propose. there’s no way in hell he’s making this a one night stand. after all he’s broken you in, now it’s the fun part.

taglist: @ggraycelynn

[mochacoda]

python | csc

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x GN!Reader

Synopsis: When you broke up with your boyfriend to work in a different country, you didn't expect to see him ever again. But when you transfer to your company's Seoul branch four years later, the department head is your ex, and he’s made it his objective to make your life a living hell for leaving him all those years ago.

Content: Angst, Fluff, Comfort | Exes to Lovers | Office AU

Tags: emotions, miscommunication, heartache, workaholic!seungcheol, insecure reader, drinking, crying, begging, petnames (sweetheart, love), konglish w/ translations, no "y/n," this is for everyone who voted for cheol in the poll, loosely connected to too nice (joshua)

Word Count: 10K

Masterlist

“I hate him,” you seethe, your fists balled up, crumpling your rejected proposal. “God, I hate him.”

Your coworker, Joshua Hong, looks up from his cubicle with raised eyebrows. “Who?”

You breathe in deeply, willing your rage to dissipate at the sight of his confusion. Poor Joshua doesn’t deserve your anger. “No one,” you say, clenching your jaw. 

Open-mouthed, Joshua blinks rapidly, eyes flitting over to glance at the office you had just walked out of. The door to the room is marked with a name plate that has 최승철 [Choi Seungcheol] in bold, gold letters. 

“I’m fine,” you insist, hands uncrumpling the document you had just attacked. 

“Uh, okay?” he says with a healthy dose of doubt, elongating the “o” in “okay.” 

“I just—” you begin, then immediately shut your mouth. ���Ugh, forget it.”

It’s one thing to crumple a proposal up, and another thing to start bad-mouthing your boss out in the open. You throw the tattered outline onto your desk, then plop yourself onto your chair. You rub your temples, and then mutter under your breath, “How did I get here?”

“Good question,” Joshua laughs. “Company synergy?” 

You groan, “Don’t ever say that word again in my presence.” 

“Mmh,” he says, walking over to your cubicle. “You won’t have to worry about my presence in a few months.” 

“Don’t remind me,” you sigh, dropping your head in your hands. 

Joshua would be leaving the Seoul branch and transferring to the New York branch in a few weeks. 

Curse your company for its commitment to “workplace synergy,” swapping out a handful of employees across all departments in its international branches every few years. If it hadn’t been for this horrible program, you wouldn’t be here right now. 

You want to rip out your own hair, at this point.

How did it even get to this? You shut your eyes, thinking back to simpler times. 

When you first got a job offer at the New York branch of your dream company, your initial reaction was elation. Your second? Doubt. Leaving Seoul was almost unthinkable, not to mention the fact that you’d be leaving your boyfriend behind, too. 

For the first few days after hearing back from the recruiter, you knew you’d accept, but kept the news to yourself. You’d heard of so many horror stories about long-distance dating, and after a long period of consideration, you wondered what the point was. 

You knew your boyfriend—really knew him. You knew he’d make sacrifices for you at the expense of himself, and it was impossible for you to accept bogging him down with a 14 hour time difference. He’d stay up waiting for your calls, instead of getting much needed rest. He’d worry about you all the time, checking the weather in Manhattan instead of Seoul and calling you constantly instead of his family and friends. He’d wait on you for as long as you needed, in an almost obsessive way, thinking it could make up the difference in distance. But he deserved someone who could love him in person, all of the time. 

It’d be better for Seungcheol if you just let him go, freeing him to focus on what mattered more to him. Like work.

He loved you too much to break things off with you himself, so it was better that you did it. For his own good. 

That’s what you told him, at least. 

────୨ৎ──── Four Years Ago

“Cheol,” you said, teary-eyed. “Cheol, look at me.”

Seungcheol stared blankly at the ground, face frozen. 

“Please?” your voice cracked.

“Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t handle?” he suddenly choked out, eyes flashing with hurt. His hands clenched, like he was holding himself back from saying more.

You swallowed thickly, reaching for his arm. “Cheol, I—”

“Don’t call me that,” he said, snatching his hand away from you. 

────୨ৎ──── 

But you had swallowed the real reasons for the breakup. 

Because, deep down, you had always suspected otherwise. Somehow, everything had just become so complicated. Loving Seungcheol—which had once been something as easy as breathing—had become a dull pain in your chest, clouding your every thought with insecurities. 

Even from the start of the relationship, you’d loved him more, anyway. Back then, you didn’t mind it because you loved him so much, and he was always so, so sweet to you. But around the time of the job offer, paranoia had reared its ugly head, kicking your uncertain thoughts into overdrive. 

It was obvious that he didn’t really love you anymore. While you were job seeking, he was distracted. Always checking his phone, not really listening to what you had to say. He made time for you, but he didn’t necessarily make you feel like he loved you as deeply as you did him—it didn’t feel like he was the same guy that you started dating. 

Something about his actions just felt like he did them to claim that he loved you, rather than because he actually loved you. His actions were laced with a kind of surface level, superficial quality. 

He’d take you out to a fancy dinner, open the door for you, pay for the meal, drive you home—all the gentlemanly things he did when you started dating, too. But on the car ride there and back, and while sitting down eating together, he wouldn’t remember the things you had said about the little things happening in your life—a major change, when compared to the start of your relationship. 

And sure, he didn’t have an obligation to remember your next door neighbor's name. But shouldn’t he remember your favorite kind of pie, or your closest cousin’s name? Shouldn’t he just know not to check his phone every time it pings with a new email, or leave you to eat your stupid expensive pasta alone as he takes a call outside?

It was almost like Seungcheol had fallen out of love with you, but was staying with you out of some kind of obligation to continue what he had started? That was your only explanation for why he’d spend time with you, but wouldn’t pay close attention to the things you said. Every Thursday was movie night, and in hopes of trying to keep him away from work, you let him choose the movie every time. But what use was that, when he spent more time looking at his phone than the TV—and more importantly, you, for that matter? 

You’d been dating a ghost of a man. While you loved him, he tolerated you. 

If the two of you stayed together when you went abroad, he’d probably double down on texts, but he wouldn’t really remember anything you’d said if you mentioned details about them in calls. 

You didn’t bring any of these fears up to him, because you knew that he would continue to deny it. In fact, you’d imagined it in your head so much that you could see it when closing your eyes to sleep. If you confronted him, he’d deny that he didn’t love you anymore. But he’d be staring at the ground instead of looking at you. He wouldn’t admit that he was only with you because he enjoyed the consistency of your affection, and because he somewhat pitied you—and most importantly to him, because he wanted to prove to himself that he chose correctly when he started dating you. 

The pain of watching the love of your life push down his repulsion just to be with you was decidedly more horrifying than the pain of breaking up with him altogether. 

Right before ending things, it had occurred to you that Seungcheol might not have ever loved you in the first place, and that just hammered in the idea that you were making the right decision. He’d get over the breakup fast. He’d probably be thankful for it in a few years, even. If you saw him again, you’d both probably laugh, and in his head, he’d realize that he was grateful that you ended things so that he could focus on his real love, his career. 

If you were honest with yourself, you would admit that there was a bit of selfishness driving the breakup, as well. There was no way you could handle Seungcheol sacrificing things for you—if he lost sleep over you, if he worried about you, if he was distracted by you—because you knew he wouldn’t be doing it for love. 

Because he only ever cared out of a superficial need to prove to himself that he made the right decision in asking you out all those years ago. Not because he really loved you. 

Yes, he probably never loved you, and he would never know the real reason why you ended things. 

────୨ৎ──── Four Years Ago

“You give up so easily,” he spat out. “Was I nothing to you?”

Tears were running down your face. “Don’t. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Seungcheol laughed, then buried his head in his hands. “God, to think I almost—” 

He stopped, jaw tightening, then shook his head like he couldn’t believe it.

────୨ৎ──── 

A hand comes down sharply on your desk, jolting you awake. 

“Sleeping while on duty?”

Wide-eyed, with tear-stained cheeks, you look up to face your ex-boyfriend. “부장님! [Department Head!]” 

Upon seeing your red-rimmed eyes, Seungcheol falters.

Swiping at your under eyes quickly, you bow your head to him slightly. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

He swallows roughly, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He opens his mouth, like he’s about to ask you why you were crying, and your heart drops. 

You will crumble if you hear the tone of voice he had used when you broke up with him.

“Excuse me,” you blurt with choked words. 

You don’t dare to look at his eyes. Instead, you get up from your seat, then immediately flee to the bathroom.

────୨ৎ──── Four Years Ago

“You can focus on work, now,” you squeaked out. 

Seungcheol scoffed again, a cruel sound of disbelief. “What makes you think I give a damn about work right now?”

“Don’t you? Always?” you sniffled.

His eyes flashed with something you couldn’t quite describe. He seemed angry, but not just at you. At himself, too—his hands were balled into fists at his sides, fingernails digging sharply into his palms. His throat bobbed, and you could see the intense restraint he was forcing on himself. He opened his mouth with a sharp breath, then closed it again, as if he wanted to say something but stopped himself. 

────୨ৎ──── 

You stare with glassy eyes at yourself in the mirror, trying to calm your racing heart down. It would be alright. You would be alright. 

If you just focused on your work, it would be fine. 

Leaving the bathroom, you square your shoulders. You’ll draft up a new proposal that suits his standards, and you’ll do it so excellently that he can’t possibly reject it. 

Hours later, and you’re standing outside Seungcheol’s office again. Taking a deep breath, you walk in without knocking or announcing yourself. 

The stack of papers trembles in your hands as you place them on Seungcheol’s desk. You keep your expression blank, steadying your breath, willing yourself not to let any emotion slip. “This is the revised proposal.”

Seungcheol doesn’t look up immediately. He takes his time flipping through the pages, his expression unreadable. The tension in the room is suffocating, thick with words left unsaid from years ago. You stand stiffly, waiting, watching the way his fingers drag across the paper. Finally, he exhales sharply and sets the proposal down.

The room is unbearably silent as the question of approval hangs in the air. Your heart pounds so loudly you swear he can hear it.

He should say no immediately. It would be the easiest answer. The logical one. The one you expect.

But he hesitates.

His fingers curl against the polished surface of his desk, and his gaze lingers on the documents in front of him for just a second too long. It’s subtle—anyone else might not notice—but you do. His mask falters. Just a flicker.

And for a split second, you let yourself hope.

Then, his jaw tightens. His hands retreat beneath the table, as if physically pulling himself back. When he finally speaks, his voice is steady, controlled, and restrained—nothing like the eager, puppy-like man you knew him as when you first started dating.

“We’ll have to decline,” he says, and it’s final. Unshakable. Like he hadn’t wavered at all.

You swallow hard, nodding stiffly as if you hadn’t just watched something slip through his fingers. As if it hadn’t slipped through yours, too.

“Decline?” you blurt.

His face remains impassive. “Yes.”

You blink at him, momentarily stunned. You had anticipated that he would be difficult, but this—it’s too fast, too dismissive.

You steel yourself. “Why?”

“It’s not good enough.”

Your fingers clench around the hem of your blazer. “Can’t you separate private and work life?”

He meets your gaze, eyes dark and cool. “I am.” His voice is devoid of any warmth. “I don’t care. Your proposal is bad.”

The words strike harder than they should, more than just a professional critique. A cruel, deliberate dismissal. You know it’s personal—for the past two weeks that you’ve been at the Seoul branch, it has always been personal when it comes to him. Your blood simmers.

“I see.” You force your voice to remain level. “Would you like to point out what’s wrong with it?”

His lips press into a thin line. “No.”

A sharp, bitter laugh escapes you. “Of course not.”

Seungcheol leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest. “Four years ago, you didn’t choose me. So why should I choose your useless proposal?”

The shift is abrupt, the air sucked out of the room in an instant. Your nails dig into your palms.

“I have never loved anyone more than I loved you.” The words leave your lips before you can stop them, the truth of them ringing through the silence.

He scoffs, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes, something raw. “You left me,” he says, voice edged with something dangerously close to hurt. “You. Left. Me.”

Your breath shudders. ���You left me first.”

He leans forward, eyes searching yours, like he’s daring you to take it back. “How?” His voice is quieter now, but no less intense. “How did I leave you, when I was the one you abandoned in Seoul?”

Your vision blurs slightly. This. This is why it never worked between the two of you. He’s too bull-headed to even consider that he was in the wrong. 

You shake your head. “Why didn’t you fight for us?”

His jaw tightens. “Why didn’t you?”

A bitter taste coats your tongue. “You gave up so easily.”

His eyes flash. “No,” he says sharply, “you’re the one who brought up work all the time.”

Your hands tremble. “Because if it wasn’t about work, you wouldn’t talk to me!”

That stuns him. His mouth opens slightly, but nothing comes out. His brows knit together, the first crack in his mask of indifference.

You exhale shakily, pressing forward. “Because if I talked about anything else, I knew you wouldn’t listen,” you whisper, voice breaking. “I knew I’d be talking to a man who loved the idea of me more than he actually loved me.”

Seungcheol flinches as if you had struck him. His throat bobs, hands clenched into fists on top of his desk. “That’s not true,” he grits out, but there’s something in his voice—something unsteady, like the words are slipping through his fingers before he can stop them.

“Isn’t it?” you press. His breathing turns uneven, his jaw tightening like he’s physically holding himself back.

“You made me feel like I was a burden,” you continue, the words tumbling out, years of buried pain unraveling in real time. “Like you had to tolerate me between meetings and emails. Like being with me was just another responsibility to check off your list.”

He exhales sharply, like the air’s been knocked out of his lungs. His fingers twitch, gripping the desk so tightly that his knuckles go white. “That’s not—” He stops, biting his tongue, like even he can’t bring himself to finish that sentence.

A bitter laugh escapes you. “You don’t even believe yourself, do you?”

Seungcheol stands abruptly, chair scraping against the floor, his composure unraveling before your eyes. “I worked so damn hard for us,” he says, voice raw.

Your voice is small. “I never asked you to.”

His lips part, and for the first time since you stepped into his office, his expression isn’t blank or cold—it’s vulnerable. And it terrifies you.

His expression cracks, pain flickering through his eyes. “I was trying to build a future for you,” he says, voice raw, desperate. “For us.”

“You were so busy planning a future that you forgot to love me in the present.”

A tense silence falls between you, the weight of the past pressing down on both of you like an unbearable force. His breaths are uneven, his knuckles white from how tightly he’s gripping the edge of his desk.

Finally, he exhales, a bitter, tired laugh leaving his lips. He looks down at the proposal—still sitting there, untouched, still rejected.

“This meeting is over,” he mutters, his voice hoarse.

Your heart clenches painfully, but you nod, blinking rapidly to push back the tears. Without another word, you turn on your heel and walk out, leaving behind the shattered remnants of everything you once were.

When you get back to the safe haven that is your apartment, you retrace everything he had said. Or, rather, the accusations he had thrown at you. 

“You left me.”

“I was the one you abandoned in Seoul.”

“Why didn’t you fight for us?” “Why didn’t you?”

“I was trying to build a future for you. For us.”

Your heart strangely aches, remembering how shaken he looked when you called out his workaholic behavior. You had blamed him for the end of it all, but it takes two to end a relationship. Why didn’t you fight harder for him, back then? 

────୨ৎ──── Four Years Ago

You’re alone now. It’s what you wanted. To be free from the self-doubt that loving Seungcheol had drilled into you. 

Your chest constricted so tightly, you couldn’t breathe. 

────୨ৎ──── 

Two days after the disastrous office meeting, you’ve somehow managed to have the misfortune of sitting in front of your ex-boyfriend at a steakhouse for work. The restaurant is dimly lit, the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses filling the space. Your body practically vibrates from the tension. 

You can see Seungcheol’s gaze turn sharper every time he looks at you, and it makes it all the more insulting when he immediately brightens at Director Chun. You chug another glass of wine, hoping the buzz will numb the annoyance bubbling within you. 

“Thank you, Director,” you say, reaching over the table to shake your superior’s hand. “It was a pleasure.”

“No, thank you, Team Leader,” he chuckles. “We’re lucky to have such competent, young people working for us. I’m sure the Brennans will be thrilled to see this project come to a close so quickly.”

Seungcheol laughs. “We’re lucky to have you, Director.”

It’s so fake, you’re itching to get rid of the stupid grin off his smug face. 

“I’m sorry I have to leave so soon,” the director continues. “I’ll see you two back at the office?”

“Of course,” you say, standing up and bowing to him as he gets up from his seat. 

When the director finally leaves, you can’t help but swallow roughly. You reach for the wine bottle, refilling your glass for the nth time tonight. The rest of the restaurant is loud, but it is far too quiet in your corner of the room. 

Now you’re alone with Seungcheol.

The air crackles with an unspoken tension, thick and suffocating. Seungcheol, across from you, has his fingers curled tightly around the stem of his wine glass. His knuckles are practically white, the pressure of his grip betraying the storm raging inside him. 

He hasn’t touched much of his food, and barely spoke beyond a few clipped replies to you. He had really only responded to Director Chun all night. But it’s nothing new. You have long learned to recognize this silence; it’s the same, bitter one that had stretched between you in the months before you left him.

You don’t know why you told Joshua you could handle going to this. Why, after everything, did you let Seungcheol pull you into a setting so painfully intimate, so reminiscent of the past? The last time the two of you were in a restaurant like this, he had left for 40 minutes to take a call outside. 

Seungcheol swirls his drink absentmindedly, watching the ice shift in the glass before finally speaking. “You look well.”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “Small talk? Really?”

His jaw tightens, and he sets his glass down with a quiet thud. “Would you rather we skip the pleasantries?”

“I’d rather we not pretend this is anything other than what it is.”

“And what is it?”

You lift your chin. “You tell me.”

Seungcheol exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. He looks at you—really looks at you—for the first time since you sat down, and it sends a shiver down your spine. It’s the same expression he made when you were in his arms, four years ago.

The one that made you feel like the only person in the world. The one that he used to assure you that he loved you. 

And you hate yourself, because you can’t help but remember that he looked so good when he was yours. Worse, you can’t help but notice how he’s still devastatingly handsome. 

Only now, his gaze is shadowed with something darker. Something unresolved.

“You know, when you told me you wanted to end things, I could’ve accepted it,” he says, voice steady, but his fingers twitch slightly against the table. 

You swallow roughly.

“I could’ve accepted it if you said you just fell out of love with me,” he continues, “But then.” He takes a deep breath. “But then, you told me it was for my own good. That I wouldn’t be able to handle long distance.”

Your hands grip your wine glass. You want to say something, but you don’t know where to even start.

“You told me you loved me, and then…” he trails, before shakily saying, “abandoned me, because I couldn’t handle it?” He dips his head low, hands joining like he’s about to make a prayer. 

“Cheol, I—”

“Don’t. Just don’t.” 

Seungcheol stares intensely at his half-eaten steak, a strand of hair coming down from his forehead to poke at his eyes. Despite yourself, your hand instinctively lurches to tuck it behind his ears, before you quickly jolt it back. A cloud of shame begins to envelope your mind. It’s not fair. Why does your body remember him so well, even after he broke your heart? 

You swallow thickly, and he takes a shaky breath before speaking again. “And you know what, that wasn’t even the worst part. What was worse, was—” 

He gets choked up, then clenches his hands into fists to ground himself. “What’s worse, was what you said at the end.”

You furrow your brows, thinking back to all those years ago, right after you told him that he could finally focus on his work, and right before you walked away from him. 

────୨ৎ──── Four Years Ago

“I’m sorry for wasting your time,” you whispered. You didn’t dare to look at him. “I’m sorry I made you miss that convention for my birthday.” You sniffled, voice breaking. “You shouldn’t have had to do that. I’m sorry I made you watch those stupid movies, and that I made you go out when you didn’t want to. I should’ve been more considerate of your dreams, Cheol. I’m sorry, I’m sorry I only realized it now. I should’ve—”

You exhaled deeply, blinking your newest tears away. They fell down your cheeks in streams. “You won’t have to worry about that kind of useless stuff anymore, okay? You don’t need to deal with me anymore. I’m sorry you had to handle all of that for so long. I, I really lo…” 

You bit down on your lower lip, blinking desperately to get rid of your blurry vision. “I hope you get into the accelerator, Cheol. I know how hard you’ve worked for it. If anyone can do it, it’s you.” 

One last time, you smiled at him weakly, not meeting his eyes. “Goodbye, Cheol.”

And then you turned your back from him, walking away from the love of your life, partly because you really did wish him well on his startup journey, and mostly because you knew he was only with you out of obligation to himself—because he never loved you, anyway. 

────୨ৎ──── 

“Oh,” you say, eyes feeling strangely prickly. 

“I love—I loved you,” Seungcheol says, clutching his chest. He exhales roughly. “Did you not… see that?”

You blink rapidly.

His throat bobs as he swallows, eyes darting away for a brief moment. “I had plans for us,” he admits, voice quiet but strained. 

At the sight of his clear pain, your stomach twists uncomfortably. “Plans?”

He nods slowly, still refusing to meet your eyes. The candlelight on the table flickers between you, casting shadows that dance across his face, highlighting the tension in his furrowed brow. 

His mouth parts as if he’s about to say something—something important—but then he stops himself.

You reach across the table instinctively, your fingertips grazing his wrist. “Seungcheol. Don’t do this to me.”

He tenses beneath your touch but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he finally looks at you, and the sheer weight of emotion in his gaze nearly knocks the breath from your lungs. There is something so much in his eyes—anger, regret, sadness, and a deep emotion you haven’t dared call love in years. All tangled together in a way that makes it impossible to separate one from the other.

“I was going to propose to you,” he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath hitches. For a second, the world tilts, the steady hum of the restaurant fading into white noise. You blink, your mind scrambling to process the weight of his words. “What?”

Seungcheol lets out a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head as if mocking himself. “I had the ring. I had everything planned out.” He exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “I was just… waiting for the right time.”

A sharp, painful lump forms in your throat. “Cheol—”

“But you left before I could,” he cuts in, his voice breaking at the edges. His eyes are glassy now, raw with unshed emotion. “You thought…you thought I didn’t love you enough. But I did. I loved you so much I—” He sucks in a shaky breath, his hands balling into fists on the table. “I was trying so hard to build a future for us. I wanted to give you everything.”

Tears burn behind your eyes, and your hands are still on his arm, but they’re shaking. “I didn’t need ‘everything,’” you whisper. “I just needed you.”

His face crumples for a split second before he forces his expression blank again. “I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Silence stretches between you, thick with everything you had never said to each other. The weight of missed moments, of love given but not received in the way it was needed, settles over the two of you like a monstrous thunderstorm. 

You swallow down the sob threatening to break free from your throat. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

His voice is hoarse, like he has swallowed glass. “Would it have changed anything?”

You want to say yes. You want to believe that if he had just told you, things would have been different. But deep down, you aren’t sure. Because the truth was, you had already been slipping away from each other long before you had walked out the door. 

You had told him you were leaving him so he could focus on his work. You had told yourself you were leaving him because he didn’t love you anymore. So, would you have really believed him if he had proposed to you? You’re not sure, but there’s no point in analyzing the hypothetical what-ifs, really. 

Because now, looking at the man who had once been your world, you wonder if you had ever really left him at all.

────୨ৎ──── Three Years Ago

It was Seungcheol’s birthday. It hit you while you were at the grocery store, in the fresh produce section.

You saw cherries.

You cried.

Later that day, your finger twitched over his contact on your phone, before falling to your hips. 

He was probably busy. He hadn’t texted or called you since the breakup, after all. He definitely wouldn’t want to hear from you even if he wasn’t busy, anyway. 

“I’m sorry,” you said out loud, knowing that the person who needed to hear it most wasn’t there. “I miss you. Happy birthday.”

────୨ৎ──── 

You blink, and suddenly you’re outside. There’s a chilly wind blowing against you, making you shiver. When you try to take a step forward, you find your body is too sluggish to move much. 

“You’ve had too much to drink,” Seungcheol says concernedly, his warm, strong hands finding an all too familiar spot against your waist.

“I’m fine,” you say, though your teetering body suggests otherwise. 

Somewhere between watching Seungcheol laugh at Director Chun’s obviously not funny jokes and trying to give your hand something to do instead of ball into fists hearing his confession, you had drunk far too much of the expensive bottle of wine that the director had bought for the three of you. 

Seungcheol says your name like it’s a warning, tone firm. 

But you can’t help but laugh. You’re too close to him now. And oh, he’s so warm. Instinctively, your body presses against him, because it’s familiar and comforting and something you’ve subconsciously been craving for the past four years with every fiber of your body. 

“I missed you,” you blurt. 

Seungcheol swallows roughly. 

“Fuck, don’t…” He can’t even bring himself to finish the sentence. “How did you get here? Taxi?”

You shake your head. “Too much money. Subway.”

“I’ll take you home, okay? Where are you staying now?” He squeezes your waist. 

“Mmh.” Thinking, you close your eyes, fully leaning into his touch. 

Three days ago, the company told you to move out of the original apartment they’d placed you in two weeks ago, and although you’d memorized how to get to your new place using the subway, you had yet to memorize the exact address. You’d always looked at your phone to double check, thinking that you’d be fine if you were stranded, since you’d always have your phone on you. Unfortunately, though, you hadn’t considered that you’d be lost if your phone died. 

“That’s not an address, sweetheart.” He inhales sharply, realizing his mistake after it leaves his lips. 

“I’m sorry,” you say with a frown, tears welling in your eyes. “Don’t remember.”

Here you were, wasting his time again. You’d left him four years ago because you were a hindrance to his career, and now you’re doing it again. Old habits die hard, don’t they?

You sniffle, “I’ll sober up soon, don’t worry. You can just leave me here. I’ll walk to the subway.”

Seungcheol’s throat bobs. “Hey, hey, don’t be sorry. I got you, okay? I’ll take you back to my place, if that’s okay?”

You nod, your voice small. “Okay.” 

He breathes a sigh of relief. 

Before you know it, Seungcheol has escorted you into the passenger seat of his car, and you’re on your way back to the house you had called your home only four years ago. 

“Did you miss me?” you ask childishly, staring at the driver with sleepy eyes.

His Adam's apple bobs up and down. 

For a moment, you don’t think he’ll answer. But then, he says softly, “I did.”

“Oh,” you say, and then you feel your eyelids get heavier. You let them close. 

Right before you fall asleep, you catch him whispering something that sounds a lot like, “I missed you so much, sweetheart.”

────୨ৎ──── Six Months Ago

You swallowed. “In the fall?”

“Yes,” Director Chun said. “I’ll be heading over to the Seoul branch as well, for a few months at the very least. I promise you’ll be under one of our best. Department Head Choi Seungcheol is known for being collaborative. I’m sure the synergy will be great between the two of you.”

You froze. Surely, not. 

“Choi Seungcheol?” you asked breathily.

“Yes. Do you know each other?”

“No,” you said, far too quickly.

“Ah, I see. Perhaps he was impressed by the work you did with the Jeons,” the director said with a smile. “He requested you directly.”

Oh.

Oh.

────୨ৎ──── 

Sleep is supposed to be relaxing, isn’t it? So why does it feel like your chest is going to cave in on itself, like a big boulder has plopped itself down on you? 

You open your eyes quickly, only to be met with a mess of short, dark brown hair. 

You try to blow on the hair, only to feel it enter your mouth. It’s horribly dry.

“Ack,” you spit.

And then it occurs to you that your hair has never tasted like this, or looked like this, for that matter.

You try moving one of your arms to get rid of the annoying strands, only to find that it has also been rendered immobile. You tense your core, trying to flop like a worm, but it’s of no use. 

You furrow your brows, straining as hard as you can, but nothing happens. 

For a moment, you wonder if you’re having a nightmare. 

And then the boulder moves.

Your eyes widen into saucers. There’s only one explanation for this. You’ve only ever known one man who gives bear hugs in his sleep like this. 

“Choi Seungcheol?”

“Fuck,” it groans. “Thought I told you not to call me that, sweetheart.”

You close your eyes, wondering if you’re still dreaming. But when you open them again, you see Seungcheol’s face. 

Sleep lines are adorning his left cheek, and he blinks at you slowly. His pink lips are turned down in a slight pout, and the sight of him is so adorable, it makes you want to scream. 

“Did you…” you pause, mind racking an explanation. “Fall asleep on top of me?”

“You said you were cold,” he says slowly, eyes half-closed, voice deep. 

“Oh,” you say, then flush, feeling heat rush up the back of your neck and reach your ears. Trying to avoid eye contact with him, your eyes stray to your collarbone, and you see that you’re still wearing last night’s clothes. “Wait, did you let me into your bed with dirty clothes?”

“Mmph,” he says, rubbing his face into the crook of your neck. 

“Wow,” is all you can manage. He never let you do that when you were dating. 

“Go back to sleep, love,” Seungcheol mumbles. 

“Can’t breathe, Cheol,” you groan, patting his back. “Too heavy, baby.”

He groans but shifts off of you, then cuddles up next to you, hands finding your waist immediately. “Five more minutes.”

“Mmh,” you sigh contentedly. 

And as you close your eyes again, it occurs to you that Seungcheol is your ex, and that the two of you are definitely doing things that exes should not be doing. 

────୨ৎ──── Two Weeks Ago

You swallowed your pride. You extended an arm out to him first. 

“Department Head Choi Seungcheol, it’s a pleasure to work with you.” 

You spat his first and last name out like venom, knowing all too well that he hated being called by his full name. 

He stared at your outstretched hand, then scoffed.

Fuck. 

────୨ৎ──── 

When you wake up again, you’re alone in Seungcheol’s bed. Out of habit, your arm moves to pat the other side of the bed. 

For a moment, your mind flashes back to the lonely mornings you had with him four years ago. The days when the first thing you did after waking up was to check the other side of the bed, only for it to be cold. The hope of it all had fractured your heart slowly, but surely.

But today, for some reason, Seungcheol’s side is lukewarm. 

Confused at the lingering warmth, you sit up in his bed, rolling back the covers. 

Is it possible that he’s still here?

Then, you smell the distinct scent of ramen through the door to his room, which has been left slightly ajar. Planning on checking the kitchen, you move to get off the bed. But before your feet reach the ground, Seungcheol walks in.

He’s holding a tiny desk, the kind made for breakfast in bed. On it is a bowl of steaming ramen and a glass of water. 

“Morning,” he says with a shy smile, and oh—oh, it’s so full of endearment and joy and hope, of all things.

God, something about it is just so, so pure and domestic, it makes your chest constrict. Seungcheol had never made you breakfast in bed when you had dated, because he had always been the first to leave in the morning. 

But here he is, like he plans on making up for everything starting now. 

And with how bright his smile is, your heart is aching to just let him. 

“Is this… for me?” you ask in a small voice. Of course, it can’t possibly be for anyone but you, but something in you wants Seungcheol to admit it. 

Seungcheol nods. 

“Thank you,” you say. 

“Ramen’s your favorite hangover meal, right?”

You nod slowly, and Seungcheol grins, like he’s proud of himself for getting it right. But something about it pokes a nerve. What use is there in remembering it now, when you’re not together anymore? 

He watches you eat slowly, and you raise your eyebrows at the taste. 

“It’s really good,” you say between bites, giving a thumbs up. 

“Good,” he says, making intense eye contact with you. 

He’s completely focused on you, phone and computer completely out of sight, and it makes you squirm. Now that his attention is on you without any distractions, it’s too easy to see how gorgeous he is. 

You flush under his attention. “Stop looking at me,” you mumble.

“Don’t wanna,” he says dreamily, lying on his stomach on the bed, looking up at you with doe eyes. 

You giggle, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment.

Seungcheol reaches out to swat your hands away from your face, taking the opportunity to hold your hands. When you look at him again, you’re taken aback by how serious he suddenly is. 

Your laughter fades. 

He takes a deep breath, and your heart sinks. You already know what he’s going to say.

“Can we… try ag—”

“Cheol,” you gently cut him off, withdrawing your hands from his familiar grasp. “Let’s not… we’re not…” 

“Why not?” He looks at you innocently, with wide eyes. 

You take a shaky breath. “I can’t do this again, Cheol. It’s not good for me, and it’s not good for you.” 

At first, he just blinks at you, as if he misheard. But then, something in his expression hardens. “Who says you’re not good for me?”

“What?”

“Who says you’re not good for me?”

“Cheol,” you say with a sigh. “Let’s not do this again. It’s not gonna work.”

“Who says?” his voice breaks. 

────୨ৎ──── One Week Ago

“Again,” he said dryly. “Redo the business model.”

You swallowed back your anger. “Yes, Department Head Choi Seungcheol. Is there anything else you would like me to do?” 

“Care more,” he said.

You frowned. “I have my full focus on this project, sir.”

“Care more,” he repeated. 

────୨ৎ──── 

“I’ve changed,” he says frantically. “I can prove it to you, I promise.”

Your chest constricts. 

“I won’t ever let you be lonely again, I promise. I won’t let it happen, I swear. I’m so, so sorry I hurt you back then, but I’m not the same man you left. I will never hurt you again.”

You swallow roughly, the ramen leaving a salty aftertaste in your mouth. 

“Seungcheol…”

He shuts his eyes tightly, like you’ve wounded him. 

“Please, call me Cheol again. Please, I can’t stand to hear you call me that.”

“It’s your name,” you tell him gently. 

“No, it’s not. To you, I’m Cheol,” he insists stubbornly, crossing his arms. You swallow at the sight. Since when was his body so defined? You have to look away from his pronounced biceps to regain your will.

“Look at me,” he says with a frown. You obliged and he continues, “Sweetheart, please. I promise I will never hurt you again. Please, please, take me back.”

On the bed, he’s kneeling now, hands drawn together as if in deep prayer.

“I won’t let work get in the way of loving you. It was horrible and so stupid of me and I’m so, so sorry but it was only when I lost you that I realized I forgot what the point of working was. It was to provide for you, and I couldn’t do that if you were gone because I didn’t properly show you the love you deserved. I’m so, so sorry, my love. Please give me another chance?”

Seungcheol looks at you with so much sadness, but the history you had with his ghost makes you unsure about what to do. 

“I don’t know, Cheol…”

He smiles weakly, resigned. “At least you’re back to calling me Cheol, though. Right?”

You nod slowly. 

All of a sudden, Seungcheol lights up, like a last-minute godsend of an idea came to his mind. “If it’s too hard to say yes now, how about taking it slow?”

“What does that mean?” His definition of taking it slow probably isn’t like yours. 

“I can take you out on some dates, and then you could decide?” 

Your heart sinks. He’s so hopeful—eyebrows raised, eyes wide, mouth parted. 

You don’t know if you have it in you to say no.

You press your lips together. 

Seungcheol must have sensed danger in your face, because he immediately interjects with a rushed confession before you even open your mouth.

“I love you. So much. I loved you then, and I loved you after you left, and I love you now. There was no one after you, you know?” He looks a bit crazed, hands scrunching the blankets roughly. 

Your heart jolts. 

He continues, “You were everything to me—and still are. There wasn’t a single day that I didn’t think about you. But I couldn’t bring myself to reach out because I thought you hated me.”

He’s not exactly wrong. You did hate him. Then again, there’s a fine line between love and hate. Both are powerful emotions that require you to care about the person in question. 

“I even quit the startup because I realized it had eaten up all my time, ‘cause it had taken you away from me.”

You gasp. This was the answer to why Choi Seungcheol, self-made entrepreneur who insisted on refusing to work for anyone but himself, had strangely become the department head of a company that he never had a hand in creating. 

“I was,” he sighs self-deprecatingly, “unemployed for a while. Until I heard you were working here, and then I made it my mission to climb the ranks until I could ask for you to get transferred to Seoul. And when you accepted, I was so…”

Your heart breaks a little for him.

“I thought it was a sign.” Hesitantly, he clarifies, “That you might want to try again.”

You inhale sharply. There he goes, again. Talking so sweetly. Back then, that was all he ever did to show you that he loved you. It wasn’t enough then, so why would it be enough now? 

At your silence, Seungcheol hangs his head, and your fingers twitch, wanting to reach out to him.

Except it’s different now, isn’t it? He’s finally doing all the things you once wished he would. Isn’t that what you wanted from him? You don’t trust him yet. But he’s trying, now, and every muscle in your body aches with an impossibly deep desire to pull him into your arms. 

You exhale, and out with your breath goes your final worries.

Your lips part before you’ve fully decided what to say. 

"Okay."

It’s barely a whisper, but it might as well be a strike of thunder with the way Seungcheol’s head snaps up. His eyes widen, mouth parting like he’s afraid he misheard you.

"Okay?" His voice trembles, cautious, like one wrong move could shatter whatever fragile thing is forming between you.

Your throat tightens. The weight of this—of him—presses down on you, but you nod anyway.

For a second, he doesn’t breathe. Then, his face crumples, and the sheer relief in his expression makes something in you splinter. His hands twitch where they rest on the blankets, like he wants to reach for you but doesn’t dare. He’s waiting—because this time, he knows he has to let you come to him.

And you do.

Slowly, hesitantly, you lean forward. His breath hitches, but he doesn’t move away. Your forehead brushes his, a soft press that feels like a heartbeat between you. You feel the warmth of his skin, the way his breath mingles with yours in the inches of space that remain.

Seungcheol exhales shakily, like he’s been holding it in for years. His hands hover near your waist, unsure, unsteady. He doesn’t pull you closer—he’s learned now—but he craves it.

Your eyes flutter shut, leaning into his touch, telling yourself it’d only be for a second. Just long enough to let yourself feel him, really feel him, without the weight of the past crushing you.

His voice is barely above a whisper, breath fanning across your lips. “Sweetheart…”

You could fall apart at the way he says it, so quiet, so reverent—like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he speaks too loud.

Your heart aches for more, but your mind reminds you of how he had left scars in your heart. For now, this form of affection would have to be enough. 

After a few minutes in his arms, you reluctantly pull away to check the address of your new apartment on your finally-charged phone. Seungcheol drops you off, walking you to your door. You don’t invite him in, and he doesn’t ask. But something about the way he looked at you, right before you walked inside your apartment, lingers in your mind long after he leaves. He’d looked at you like you’d hung every glittering star in the sky. 

Four years ago, you had decided that this gaze was something he’d manufactured while putting up with you. Maybe, you were wrong.

────୨ৎ──── 

Seungcheol keeps his promise of taking things slow. He’d arranged for you to meet him at a cafe the next day, and he’s already there when you get there. It’s a small, cozy place tucked into a quieter part of the city, the kind with warm lighting and the scent of freshly ground coffee drifting in the air. 

You hesitate for a second when you see him through the window, seated at a booth near the back, fingers idly tapping against the ceramic cup in front of him. Then, before you can second-guess yourself, you push open the door.

His eyes meet yours instantly, and for a moment, he looks breathless—like he’s just as nervous as you are. But then he smiles. It’s a small, careful thing, but it makes your heart drum a little faster anyway. As you approach, he stands up, hand on his heart.

“Hey,” he says, voice soft, like he’s afraid to scare you away.

“Hey,” you reply, sliding into the seat across from him. 

The booth is familiar. For a second, you’re struck by the memory of late-night conversations, of stolen kisses over half-finished drinks. You really were deep in love, back then.

You shake the thought away as Seungcheol gestures toward the counter.

“Still the same order?” he asks, the corner of his mouth lifting in something that isn’t quite a smirk but close enough that you recognize it as one of his signature expressions. You raise an eyebrow.

“You think I’d change it?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, tilting his head slightly. “A lot of time has passed.”

You exhale a small laugh. “Yeah, well. Some things stay the same.”

Something shifts in his gaze, a flicker of relief, of hope, before he nods. He waves down a barista and places the order without hesitation—exactly how you like it. When the cup is finally set in front of you, you find yourself staring at it for a beat too long, a strange warmth pooling in your chest.

“Thanks,” you murmur, wrapping your fingers around the cup.

Seungcheol watches you, his own drink forgotten, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he leans slightly forward, forearms resting on the table as he asks, “So, what’s new?”

You take a sip, letting the warmth settle in your stomach before answering. “Well, I have a wedding to go to next month.”

His eyebrows lift slightly, intrigued. “Oh?”

“Yeah. My coworker from the New York branch, Lee Chan, is getting married next month. I gotta fly out for it.” You swirl your drink absentmindedly, watching the steam curl into the air. “It’s kind of crazy. Feels like yesterday he was complaining about bad Tinder dates, and now he’s getting married.”

Seungcheol huffs a small laugh. “Guess he finally found the right person.”

“Yeah,” you say, a little softer. “Guess he did.”

There’s a pause, and you realize that for all the implications, for the way the topic is naturally leading to the idea of a plus one, you don’t bring it up. And, notably, neither does he. The question lingers, unspoken but present. Instead, Seungcheol shifts the conversation.

“You still baking?”

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “If you can even call it that.”

He grins. “That bad?”

“Worse.” You sigh dramatically. “I was trying to perfect my chocolate chip cookies, right? Like, I found this recipe online, and it looked completely foolproof. But somehow, I nearly burned down my apartment.”

His amusement vanishes instantly. “What?”

“I mean, not literally,” you backtrack quickly, waving a hand. “But there was a lot of smoke. And my oven might hate me now.”

Seungcheol’s brows furrow in concern. “That apartment’s new, isn’t it?”

You nod. “Yeah, company orders. Still trying to get used to it.”

He exhales through his nose, tilting his head as he studies you. “Isn’t it hard? Being in such an unfamiliar place?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Oh, uh, I guess?”

His tone is casual—too casual—but you’re not oblivious. You see the way he watches you intently, the way he’s gauging your reaction. He thinks he’s being subtle, but it’s clear what he’s hinting at. Someday, maybe you won’t have to be in an unfamiliar place. Maybe you could come back home, to me.

You let out a small breath, looking down at your drink. “It’s fine,” you say after a moment. “It’s just an adjustment.”

Seungcheol doesn’t push, but his fingers tighten slightly around his cup. “If you ever need anything…”

“I know,” you say, and you mean it. Because for the first time in a long time, it feels like he actually means it, too.

The conversation shifts again, moving from baking disasters to random anecdotes about work, about old stories that slip out without either of you realizing. And throughout it all, you notice something: Seungcheol is listening.

Not just nodding along, not just waiting for his turn to speak. He’s really listening—leaning in, responding at the right moments, his gaze locked on yours with a kind of attentiveness that makes your stomach flip in a way you don’t want to acknowledge yet.

It’s different. He’s different.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s why this doesn’t feel like a mistake.

Fuck, do you love him, still?

────୨ৎ──── 

After the weekend cafe date with Seungcheol came the work week, much to your displeasure. Today has been an especially exhausting day. The kind that seeps into your bones, weighing down your limbs, making even the simple act of unlocking your apartment door feel like a chore. You barely manage to kick off your shoes before collapsing onto the couch, groaning into the cushions.

You didn’t even hear your phone buzzing at first. It takes a few rings before you muster enough energy to blindly fumble for it.

“Hello?” Your voice is muffled, with your face buried against the pillow.

“You sound dead,” comes Seungcheol’s voice, laced with amusement but tinged with concern.

“Feel like it too,” you groan. “Long day.”

There was a pause on the other end. Then, softly, “Have you eaten?”

“I had lunch,” you say. 

Another pause. Then, decisively, “I’m coming over.”

“What? No, you don’t have to—”

“Too late. I’m already on my way.”

And just like that, the call ends. You blink owlishly at your screen, a bit too drained to call him back in protest.

Twenty minutes later, a knock comes from your door.

When you open it, Seungcheol stands there, hair still slightly tousled from the wind outside, carrying a takeout bag in one hand and a six-pack of your favorite drinks in the other.

“You used to drink these when you were stressed,” he says, holding up the pack as if that explains everything.

Your heart does something funny in your chest, but do your best to ignore it. Instead, you step aside, letting him in for the first time. 

Seungcheol makes himself comfortable in your kitchen, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He unpacks the food and searches for utensils without asking you for help. And before you know it, you’re sitting at your small dining table, warm food in front of you, while he nudges a drink toward your hand.

The silence is comfortable. You didn’t realize how much you needed this until now—until the tension in your shoulders starts to ease, until the simple act of eating next to someone who cares about you makes the world feel a little less heavy.

At some point, you sigh, rolling your neck to work out a kink. You hadn’t meant for it to be noticeable, but Seungcheol caught it immediately. Without a word, he shifts his chair closer and places a warm hand against your shoulder, thumb pressing gently into the tension there.

You freeze.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “I got you. Just relax.”

And somehow, without even thinking, you do.

It isn’t grand, or dramatic, really. It’s just the quiet comfort of someone who knows you better than you thought he did. Who is all of a sudden remembering the little things, after all these years. He eases the weight of the world off your shoulders without even trying.

You don’t pull away.

And neither does he.

────୨ৎ──── 

A week later, and the workday is winding down. But the plans you’ve been looking forward to—a nice dinner that feels like a step forward, another stitch in the frayed edges between you and Seungcheol—suddenly teeter on the edge of collapse.

You’re gathering your things when Director Chun steps into the office, looking around before his gaze lands on Seungcheol.

"Department Head Choi Seungcheol," Chun calls, his voice even but firm. "I need you to stay back for a bit. The New York office just called me about a misalignment between Mr. Han’s vision and the work we submitted to their team. We need to smooth it over before tomorrow morning. I estimate it won’t take very long."

Your breath catches. Director Chun always sugarcoats things. It wouldn’t be just a couple more minutes, it’d be several hours of extra work. 

It’s just a few words, a simple request by the director. But it’s enough to send you spiraling.

Because you've been here before.

You know how this story ends.

Your grip tightens around the strap of your bag as a million thoughts flood in, rapid and overwhelming. He’s going to say yes. Of course, he’s going to say yes. 

Work will always come first. It always has, always will. 

He’ll put you second again, and you’ll be left waiting, just like before.

The words you want to say—please don’t go, pick me, just this once—stick like molasses to the back of your throat.

You can’t stay here to hear him confirm it. You can’t bear to watch it happen all over again.

You walk away before Seungcheol answers the director, your feet carrying you toward the stairwell in a daze. The second the heavy door shuts behind you, a shaky breath escapes your lips. Your fingers press against your temples as you squeeze your eyes shut, willing away the sting that threatens to turn into tears. 

Your chest constricts so harshly, you think you might be having a heart attack.

It shouldn't hurt this much.

But it does.

The past and present blur together in your mind—memories of cold dinners, of unanswered texts, of waiting and waiting and waiting. Until you stopped waiting altogether.

Why on earth did you think that things would be any different, now? 

The door swings open with a rush of air.

"Sweetheart?"

Your stomach drops.

Seungcheol steps inside, eyes scanning the dimly lit stairwell before landing on you. His brows pull together in concern as he closes the distance between you.

"Hey," he murmurs, reaching out hesitantly. "What’s wrong?"

You shake your head, stepping back before his fingers can brush against your arm. "You don’t have to be here, Cheol."

He frowns. "What are you talking about?"

Defeated, you let out a humorless laugh, gesturing vaguely. "You don’t have to chase after me just to make me feel better about you choosing work over dinner. I get it. I know how this goes."

A pause. Then, softly, "Is that what you think happened?"

The sincerity in his voice makes you falter.

You blink at him, your heart pounding, confusion creeping in through the cracks of your resolve. "What do you mean?"

Seungcheol exhales, running a hand through his hair before stepping closer. This time, you don’t move away.

"I told Director Chun I couldn’t stay," he says, voice steady. "I told him I had a prior commitment, and that I wasn’t going to break it."

Your eyes widen comically. "What?"

His lips twitch into something that’s not quite a smile, but close. "I said no, sweetheart. I told him I had somewhere more important to be."

More important.

Your throat tightens.

"You—" The words catch, and you swallow hard, trying to process it. "You said no?"

"I did." His gaze softens, the weight of the moment settling between you. "I told you I wouldn’t let work come between us again."

His voice is quiet, but it carries years’ worth of unspoken apologies.

Of love that had once been misplaced, misdirected, but never truly lost.

Your eyes flicker over his face, searching. And the truth is written in the way he looks at you—open, unwavering, as if he’s willing you to believe him.

And you do.

It’s terrifying how easily you do.

The wall you’d built, the one meant to protect you from this very moment, begins to crumble under the warmth in his gaze.

Your breath shudders. "Cheol…"

His hand lifts, hovering near your cheek, close enough that you can feel the heat of it but not touching. His wide, sparkling eyes look eagerly into yours—giving you the choice, letting you decide.

Your chest tightens at his cute patience, the silent question lingering between you.

The space between you grows smaller.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly, you’re impossibly close, the tips of your noses nearly brushing. His breath fans over your lips, and your eyes flutter shut.

He doesn’t move to kiss you, but that’s okay. Because you’re finally ready to cross that line. 

Tilting your chin up into him, your lips meet, and the warmth of him grounds you in a way that nothing else ever replaced, or ever could. His lips are so, so, soft, and as he melts into the kiss, he lets out a small content sigh. Everything about the kiss is familiar, and yet, somehow different. It’s charged with a kind of electric buzz, the tension from the past weeks finally coming to a head. 

For a moment, the world is still. You only see Seungcheol. 

Then, in a voice so soft it almost disappears into the quiet of the stairwell, Seungcheol parts from your lips for just a centimeter, whispering, "I meant what I said. You don’t have to worry anymore. I’m 110% for you, I love you."

You close your eyes, exhaling against his skin, relishing his touch. You say the next words with a full chest, “I love you so much, Cheol.”

Because for the first time in a long time, you believe him. 

Masterlist

Author's Note: did u get the title?? seungcheol's the python bc he makes ur chest constrict and love is hard and hurts us sometimes anywayz happy valentines day <3

Disclaimer: nothing i write is representative of how svt acts off camera, take their names as stand-ins for oc's!!

Taglist: @syluslittlecrows - @junplusone - @fragmentof-indifference - @junniesoleilkth - @woncheecks - @peachypie97 - @viciousdarlings - @11zzyy - @thepoopdokyeomtouched - @dmstoyangyang - @christinewithluv - @snowcake666 - @rjreins - @namk00kie - @homelouisgirl - @slvrstrs - @jimintopiaaaa - @coupshour - @babycaratdeul

[solxamber]

Giving Them Chocolates on Valentine's Day with: Ignihyde

Go here for other dorms

(platonic ortho)

Idia Shroud

You almost regret how direct you are.

Because the second you hold out the chocolates and say, “These are for you, Idia. I like you,” he looks like he’s either going to faint or straight-up perish.

His hair flashes flaming pink. His pupils shrink. His shoulders tense so hard that you can almost hear his soul leaving his body.

“…W-What?” His voice cracks. He immediately clears his throat, gripping his tablet like a lifeline. “You’re—wait, hold up, pause—you’re joking, right?”

You frown. “Why would I joke about this?”

His entire existence malfunctions. He physically leans away from you like he needs to social distance from his own feelings.

“B-Because! You—me—this—!” He waves his hands in the air, looking more and more like he’s about to blue screen. “I mean, what kind of main character energy timeline is this?! There’s no way—this isn’t real life—"

You sigh, crossing your arms. “Idia.”

He flinches.

“I’m serious,” you say, firm but soft. “I like you. You. Just you.”

His breath catches.

His hair flickers again—brighter, more erratic—and suddenly, he’s curling in on himself, gripping his hoodie like it’s his armor.

“Oh my god,” he mutters, sounding utterly doomed. “Oh my god.”

You wait, letting him process.

And then—so, so quietly, almost like he doesn’t realize he’s saying it out loud—

“…I like you too.”

Your heart stutters.

His face flushes completely, and he immediately hides behind his sleeves, his voice muffled as he groans, “Ughhh, don’t look at me, I’m being cringe—”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re fine, Idia.”

“Nope, incorrect, literally having a cardiac event right now, please hold—”

You grin. “Then I guess now’s a bad time to ask if you wanna hang out?”

He pauses.

You watch as his brain visibly reboots, the panic flickering into something else. Something… hopeful.

“Uh.” He fidgets with his sleeves, glancing away. “…You, um. Y’know. Wanna stay and watch a movie or something?”

Your chest warms.

You nod, smiling. “I’d love to.”

Idia freezes again. Then, with one last tiny, flustered squeak, he scoots over on his bean bag, giving you space to sit beside him.

His hair is still pink.

Ortho Shroud

Ortho lights up immediately when you hand him the chocolates, his eyes glowing brighter as he carefully takes the box from your hands.

“For me?” he asks, tilting his head, excitement clear in his voice.

You nod, smiling. “Yeah. I just… wanted to thank you. You’re a great friend, Ortho.”

For a moment, he’s completely still. Then, his thrusters let out a tiny burst of energy, making him hover slightly like he’s too happy to stay grounded.

“Wow!” he exclaims, holding the chocolates close to his chest. “This is amazing! No one’s ever given me Valentine’s chocolates before!”

Your heart melts. “Well, you deserve it. You’re always looking out for me. It’s about time I gave you a gift for once.”

Ortho lets out a delighted giggle as he zooms forward and pulls you into a hug.

It’s warm, firm, and just tight enough to make you laugh as he squeezes you happily.

“Thank you! I’m so happy! This is going in my memory banks forever!”

You grin, hugging him back. “Glad you like it, buddy.”

Ortho pulls back, still buzzing with energy. “Oh! I need to go show Big Brother! He’s gonna be so surprised!”

You chuckle. “Go for it.”

As Ortho zooms off, chocolates safely in his hands, you can’t help but feel lighter, happier.

Because, honestly? Seeing him that excited was the best part of all.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[hoonquette]

these are the days, nishimura riki.

【 another night with your friendly neighborhood spider-man 】 fem ! r 𓈒 fluff college au spider-man!riki + 665wc ── incl. mentions of injuries unproofread writing.

it's been an entire month since you've gotten a full night's rest. granted, you should be used to it—college has definitely ruined your sleep schedule for the next four years—but you'd gotten at least three hours of sleep.

thanks to nishimura riki, your friendly neighborhood spider-man (more commonly known as your boyfriend), those three hours have been reduced to maybe one. since you've found out about his identity, you've spent most nights worrying about his wellbeing, other nights were spent patching him up and tending to his wounds.

tonight is one of those nights.

one of the nights where you rub ointment against his bruised and cut skin, a look of disapproval on your face. he's tried talking to you, but you didn't answer, not wanting to snap at him for being so.. impulsive.

when you're done, you sigh, closing up the first aid kit you'd bought after the second time he came through your window. he stares at you, his eyes apologetic and a small frown on his lips.

he had changed once you let him in, throwing off his mask, and changing into one of the pair of sweats he'd left here. he foregone a shirt—wanting you to see the bruise that'd no doubt be forming on his back after being slammed against a wall.

you nearly strangled him when he told you that.

you understand that this is his unofficial job, something that he enjoys, but it doesn't mean you have to like it. especially when he's not being as careful as you would like him to be.

"alright, fine." he starts, leaning back on your bed, "i'll stop going after the small guys."

"i'm not worried about the 'small guys', ki."

"car jackers can be dangerous. so can—" you interrupt, hitting him with a pillow. he rolls away and lets out a surprised yelp. from the edge of the bed, "you shouldn't hit your injured boyfriend."

"my boyfriend wouldn't be injured if he stopped being stupid."

"i'm a superhero; we're all stupid."

you glare at him and he relents, holding his hands up in surrender. "okay, i'll be more mindful of how hard i'm being hit from now on. good?"

"not good," you crawl over to him, laying next to his body, "but fine. just stop coming over when you look like you're about to pass out. go to an actual hospital."

he rolls over again, this time so that he's hovering above you. suddenly, it feels like you're the one with the concussion—no matter how long you're with him, you don't think you'll ever get used to the close proximity riki seems to crave—and you look away.

you can see him smile out of your peripheral, biting his lip to keep from laughing. "hey, look at me."

you debate not listening to him, but you know he won't speak again until you do, so you (hesitantly) look at him.

riki's smile brightens and he places a kiss on your nose, then on your cheek, forehead, and finally your lips. the kiss lasts for a fleeting moment, but it melts you all the same.

"i wanna be with you, though." he kisses you again, "want your face to be the last thing i see before i faint from exhaustion."

you can't help the giggles that escape, turning your head away from him and covering his mouth with your hand. "stop—don't say that."

"it's true." he pulls your hand from his mouth, but not before kissing it. "plus, i can't go to a hospital, dork."

"okay, okay, whatever. new rule: be better than the other superheros. be smart."

"that gave me chills. you should be a motivational speaker."

you shove him off of you, telling him yo be serious as you do so, and your boyfriend lets out a dramatic scream of so-called pain. when he's done with his mini-monologue about how mean of a girlfriend you are, he caresses your cheek.

"i'll be smarter, though, make you worry you less. promise."

ADRiANNA 🦷 hai :3 i needed a spiderman!riki fic in order to heal from Well idk most things

[goldfades]

my heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue / all's well that ends well to end up with you / swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover ─── joe burrow⁹

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine | FREE PALESTINE!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you and joe are newly in the relationship, but he wants to make sure you know how much he appreciates you. valentine's day fluff!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | joe being awkward, but very sweet and short! a perfect treat for valentine's day.

The first time Joe mentioned Valentine’s Day, it was in the most unromantic way possible—half-muttered under his breath while lacing up his shoes.

“What’s the deal with that, anyway?”

You had been stretched out on the couch, lazily flipping through your phone, when you glanced up at him. “With what?”

“Valentine’s.” He stood, rolling his shoulders, his focus anywhere but on you. “Are people really into that?”

You smirked. “I mean… yeah. Most people like romance, Joe.”

That made him pause. He looked at you for a second, something flickering behind his gaze. Then, just as quickly, he grabbed his keys off the counter and mumbled something about practice.

That was weeks ago. You didn’t bring it up again, figuring Joe wasn’t the overly sentimental type—and that was fine. You didn’t need a big, grand gesture. You’d been together for less than a year, still learning the ways in which love softened and settled between you. Joe showed his love in quieter ways. The hand on your thigh while he drove. The way he always noticed when you were cold before you even said anything. How he sent you good morning texts even if he was already awake, even if he was just in the next room.

So, no—you hadn’t expected much for Valentine’s Day. Maybe dinner, maybe a card. Maybe nothing, just a normal night curled up on the couch with a movie and the smell of his cologne mixing into your hoodie.

You definitely hadn’t expected this.

The note had been waiting for you when you woke up, written in Joe’s neat, almost too-perfect handwriting:

Be ready by 7. Dress warm.

That was it. No hint, no context. Just a time and a request. And now, standing in front of your closet, you felt a flutter of something deep in your stomach—anticipation, curiosity. Because for all of Joe’s quietness, his understatement, he didn’t do things halfway.

And whatever this was… it wasn’t going to be halfway.

By the time you were ready—wrapped in layers like the note had suggested—Joe was already waiting for you downstairs.

And that’s when you saw them.

Two bouquets.

One was classic—deep red roses, velvety petals catching the dim light of your apartment’s entryway, wrapped in that expensive, crisp paper that only high-end florists use. The other? It was filled with your favorite flowers, carefully arranged with an artistic touch, delicate and intentional. It looked like something out of a luxury wedding spread, not something you’d expect to receive just for being loved by Joe Burrow.

Your mouth parted slightly as you looked between them. “Two?”

Joe, standing there in his dark coat, hands stuffed in his pockets, shifted slightly on his feet. “You’ve mentioned both.”

It was the simplest explanation, but the weight of it pressed into your chest. He had listened. Not just in passing, but in that quiet, thorough way of his. Enough to hesitate at the flower shop, enough to get both because he didn’t want to assume.

He extended them to you, still looking just the slightest bit unsure. “I wasn’t sure which one you’d want.”

You took them, shaking your head with a quiet laugh. “Joe… this is too much.”

His brow twitched, the closest thing to a frown. “How is it too much?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it, because… yeah, how was it too much? It was Joe, after all—he didn’t do flashy for the sake of it. He did intentional. If he did something, he meant it.

So you stepped closer, pressing the bouquets against his chest as you leaned up on your toes to kiss him, slow and soft. “Thank you.”

He hummed against your lips, hands sliding around your waist, steady and warm.

“Come on,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to look at you. “We have reservations.”

Joe wasn’t the type to opt for a stuffy, overdone Valentine’s dinner—the kind with dim lighting and a pre-fixed menu and an upcharge for a glass of champagne. No, he had found a place that felt you.

It wasn’t too flashy, but it was nice—a cozy restaurant tucked into a side street downtown, warm lighting casting soft glows against the wooden beams. The kind of place where the food was actually good and the atmosphere didn’t feel forced.

You were about halfway through your meal, comfortably tucked into the corner booth, when you finally had to say it.

“You really thought this through.”

Joe, who had been cutting into his steak with casual ease, glanced up. “Yeah?”

You set your fork down, tipping your head. “Yeah. I mean, this isn’t—” You gestured vaguely around. “This isn’t last minute. You actually planned this.”

His lips curved slightly. “Of course, I did.” Like it was obvious. Like the thought of not doing it hadn’t even crossed his mind.

You smiled, warmth unfurling in your chest. “You’re kinda romantic, Joe Burrow.”

His eyes flickered with amusement. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “If you say so.”

But he didn’t argue much.

After dinner, instead of heading home, Joe drove you somewhere you didn’t recognize—just outside the city, where the skyline dimmed and the world felt a little quieter.

When he pulled up to a private outdoor rink, you nearly laughed. “Ice skating?”

Joe, already stepping out of the car, shot you a look. “You said you wanted to go.”

You had said that. Months ago. Offhandedly, in passing, watching some rom-com where the main characters skated under twinkling lights. You had sighed and muttered, ‘That looks cute, I wanna do that.’

And apparently, Joe had remembered.

You weren’t good at ice skating. Not even a little. But that didn’t matter, because every time you wobbled, Joe was there, steady hands catching you before you could fall.

At one point, he just pulled you against his chest, keeping you there. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

You grinned up at him. “That’s part of the experience.”

He rolled his eyes, but you caught the way he tugged you closer, letting you press your cold nose against his neck.

It was perfect.

Simple, quiet, thoughtful.

And when you got home, when you saw the final thing Joe had left for you—another note on your pillow, just a short, scrawled I love you—you realized he hadn’t gone over the top.

He had just loved you the way he always did. The way only he could.

[sincerelyneo]

so high school | l.hc

“no one’s ever had me. not like you…”

📀now playing: so high school by taylor swift

❯ summary: Hyuck doesn’t care that high school was years ago; after learning his girlfriend’s experience was shitty, he’s determined to rewrite it for you. After all, he’s nothing if not smitten.

❯ pairings: haechan x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, fluff, eventual smut

❯ words: 6.4k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni, swearing, fingering, dirty talk, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, exhibitionism, reader uses she/her pronouns, lots of gendered female terms, slight begging, brief possessiveness and jealousy bc it’s me, a brief cheating accusation but it’s stupid, hyuck being a cute boyfriend for 6k words.

an: did someone say haechan lover boy smut for valentine’s day? (they didn’t, lol. i wrote this for me, i love men in love)

“I fucking loved high school,” Hyuck says, placing down his yearbook on the coffee table.

It had to be a few years old by now, stuffed at the back of one of your bookshelves. You’d found it while doing an annual declutter and handed it to him on a whim. Knowing your boyfriend, you figured he’d find it nostalgic, or funny, or both.

You glance at him from your spot on the couch, eyebrow arched. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He shifts, sitting up straighter.

“You were on the football team, babe. Voted prom king, had good grades, and probably never had to eat lunch alone,” you list off, counting on your fingers for dramatic effect. “I’d be shocked if you did hate high school.”

He laughs with a shake of his head, sinking back further into the sofa. “Okay, fine, maybe I was a little... popular.”

You roll your eyes, but a laugh slips out before you can help it. “A little? I bet you walked through the hallways like you were the lead in a drama or something stupid like that.”

He nods. “Damn right. I was the shit.”

You scoff, tossing a pillow in his direction. He’s such a cocky bastard—but you love that about him.

“Jealous?” he shoots back, smirking.

You try to playfully roll your eyes, but instead, a small frown pulls at your lips. You know he’s just teasing, messing around, but memories of junior and senior year creep into your mind uninvited. You’d never been outright bullied, but high school wasn’t exactly a highlight reel for you. 

It was a blur of sitting in the back row, trying to make yourself small enough to avoid attention. Lunches alone in the library. No group of friends. No teenage dream. Dances you skipped, pretending you didn’t care when your chest ached from watching your classmates gush over photos the Monday after.

So yeah, you were a little jealous.

“Yes, actually,” you say finally, voice quieter. “High school sucked for me.”

His grin falters, posture straightening. “What?”

“I mean, it wasn’t all bad,” you rush to explain, suddenly self-conscious. “I got through it, you know? I just wasn’t... you.”

Hyuck leans back, studying you with a look you don’t see often on him—concern, worry. “What do you mean you weren’t me?”

“I wasn’t popular or cool or good at sports. I didn’t have a big friend group, and I definitely didn’t win prom queen…not that I even went.”

Hyuck doesn’t respond right away, and when you finally glance up, you find him staring at you with an expression you can’t quite place. There’s no teasing glint in his eyes, no cocky smile playing at his lips. He just looks... sad.

“Wait,” he says, his voice softer now. “You didn’t go to prom?”

You shrug. “Didn’t really have anyone to go with.”

He blinks at you like you just told him you spent your teenage years stranded on a deserted island, which for the likes of Hyuck, not attending prom was the justified equivalent. 

“Are you serious?”

“Hyuck, it’s not a big deal,” you say quickly, waving him off. “High school just wasn’t my thing.”

“Not a big deal?” he repeats. “Babe, prom is like... the peak of high school. It’s the one night everyone remembers forever. How did no one ask you? I can’t wrap my head around that.”

You can’t help but laugh, despite the tightness in your chest. “Not everyone peaked in high school, Hyuck. Some of us just... took it for what it was: school.”

His expression softens even more, guilt creeping into his features as he scoots closer, his thigh brushing yours. “You know you deserved better than that, right?”

“Hyuck—”

“I mean it,” he says firmly, cupping your face in his hands. “If I’d been there, you would’ve been my prom queen. Hell, I’d have skipped the whole damn thing just to hang out with you if you didn’t wanna go.”

The honeyed warmth in his voice makes your throat tighten, and you hate how easily he can do this—take the ache of old memories and replace it with something softer, lighter. Something you almost want to believe.

“Too bad we didn’t meet until after high school,” you say, forcing a smile.

Hyuck falters—but only for a moment. His gaze lingers on you as if a thought is forming behind his dark eyes.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, brushing a kiss against your forehead. “Too bad.”

You don’t think anything of it when he pulls you into his chest, resting his chin on your head as the conversation drifts elsewhere. But later, when he’s holding you close and you’re half-asleep, Hyuck is still thinking. Planning.

Because Lee Donghyuck might not be able to rewrite your past, but he’s damn sure going to be the best part of your future—trust. 

Hyuck just couldn’t stop thinking about it.

The coolest person he’d ever met—his girlfriend, his soulmate—hadn’t gotten to live the high school teenage dream. No prom, no stupid corsages, no dancing barefoot at the end of the night because the heels were too much. Nothing.

It didn’t make sense. You were too fucking beautiful to be treated as background noise by those losers. Hyuck remembers the day he met you—a fully grown man—and you made him a stuttering mess. He’s never asked Mark for flirting advice ever in his life, but fuck, he wasn’t about to miss his chance with you. 

How could they just disregard you?

He raked a hand through his hair, frustrated. How did no one ask you out? Were they blind? Or just stupid? What kind of idiot couldn’t see what he saw every day?

The thought of you sitting at home on prom night, like it didn’t matter, made his chest ache. He couldn’t picture it—because you were you, the type of person every cheesy teen movie was written about: beautiful, funny, and so damn perfect. And yet... those assholes in high school had somehow missed it.

And even though the sick, selfish, possessive side of him is so fucking grateful that he’s the only one that’s ever had you, and those assholes missed out, he still can’t help but obsess over it. He couldn’t change the past, no matter how much he wanted to, and that realization burned. 

Hyuck groans, tipping his head back. “I’m losing it,” he mutters, mostly to himself.

But he couldn’t let it go. And because he was Lee fucking Donghyuck, when something got under his skin, he acted on it. Which is why, two days later, he finds himself standing in the middle of a small-town gymnasium, arms crossed over his chest as he surveys the scene in front of him.

“Is this the best you can do?” he asks, unimpressed.

Mark, balancing precariously on a ladder while stringing up fairy lights, glares down at him. “Dude, shut the fuck up,” he snaps. “You gave us two days to put this together. Do you even know how hard it was to convince the principal? I had to name-drop you!” 

Hyuck ignores him, his eyes sweeping over the room again. Mark wasn’t wrong—he had given his friends next to no time to work with. But that didn’t stop him from wanting it to be perfect. You deserved perfect.

A cheap speaker sits on the ground, currently blasting some old prom playlist Mark had found online. The string lights slowly started taking shape, casting a soft glow across the gym. There is a table in the corner with a bowl of something pink and suspicious-looking, and a few chairs scattered around. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great either.

Mark climbs down from the ladder, dusting his hands on his jeans. “I think it looks fine.”

“Fine?” Hyuck repeats, scoffing. “Mark, this is a high school prom. It’s supposed to be magical or whatever. This just looks like... a school event.”

“Because it is a school event,” Mark shoots back, rolling his eyes. “Look, man, if you wanted a five-star gala, maybe you shouldn’t have sprung this on me last minute.”

Hyuck sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He wasn’t trying to be an ass, but he wanted, needed, to do this for you. You’d brushed off your high school experience like it was no big deal, but he could tell it meant something to you. Maybe not in a way you wanted to admit, but it was there.

And now it was his job—no, his mission—to fix it.

“Just... add more lights,” Hyuck says finally. “And maybe some balloons? Chenle, do we have balloons?”

Chenle, who was sweeping the floors, looked back with a shake of his head, scurrying off before he got caught in the crossfire. 

Mark groans. “Hyuck, if we add any more lights, the entire gym’s gonna blow a fuse. And no, we don’t have balloons. You’re lucky I even managed to get lights.”

Hyuck sighs again, running a hand through his hair. He had money, sure—that was the only reason he’d managed to rent out the gym on such short notice—but even he couldn’t buy time.

Still, as he looked around the gym, he felt a flicker of pride. It wasn’t perfect, but it was something. He’d move mountains for you if he had to. And if this half-assed prom was the closest he could get, then so be it.

Mark claps a hand on his shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. “Hey,” he says, softer now. “She’s gonna love it, dude. Stop stressing out.”

Hyuck nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah.”

Your boyfriend’s acting weird. Well, weirder than usual.

Hyuck’s always been a little odd—but that’s one of the things you love about him. The endless hobbies he picks up and abandons in a week like juggling, the random facts he collects from late-night YouTube rabbit holes, and his never-ending need to one-up his friends in bets and challenges. But this? This feels different. Like it’s more than some dumb dare or fleeting obsession.

For the past two days, he’s been unusually secretive. You’ve caught him whispering with Mark on the phone more than once, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush whenever you’d walk into the room. And then there was yesterday—when you brought coffee to his rehearsal. You barely stepped inside before the entire group went awkwardly silent, and Hyuck practically herded you back out the door. Hyuck, who usually couldn’t keep his hands off you in public and loved showing you off, suddenly turning shy…suspicious doesn’t even begin to cover it.

And let’s not forget the disappearing act last night. He came home late, shrugging off your questions with a grin and the vague excuse of “guy stuff.” Guy stuff. That was the moment you knew something was up.

And so, you’ve been sitting on the couch, stewing, waiting for him to get home from rehearsal. The seconds drag, and with each passing minute, your frustration builds. By the time you hear the jingle of his keys in the door, you’re ready to burst.

Hyuck stumbles in, his hair slightly mussed, a garment bag slung over his shoulder. He looks exhausted but excited, strange. He barely gets a foot inside before you’re on him.

“Are you cheating on me?”

His jaw drops, the grin on his face disappearing instantly, eyes blinking at you like you’ve just accused him of arson. You’d honestly prefer it if he had. “What?! No! Why would you even—what the fuck?”

“You’ve been acting so weird!” you snap, crossing your arms. “The sneaky phone calls, the late nights, the whispering, the weird excuses—guy stuff? Do you think I was born yesterday?”

That makes him laugh and you swear you see red. He thinks this is funny? You’ll show him funny. 

“If you wanted to break up with me, Hyuck, don’t insult me by sneaking around! Just—just tell me to my face!” Your voice wavers, hurt bubbling in your throat as you glare at him.

Hyuck’s expression softens instantly, his eyebrows furrowing. “Hey, hey, wait—babe, no. That’s not what’s happening here, I swear.”

You narrow your eyes, pointing at the garment bag. “Oh yeah? What’s that, then? Some outfit for your other girlfriend?”

His mouth drops open, and then he barks out a laugh, though he quickly smothers it when he sees your glare. “No! Oh my God, no. Look, just… this isn’t how I wanted to do this,” he pinches his temples “Could you just go upstairs and put this on, okay?” He holds the bag out to you, practically shoving it into your hands.

“Excuse me?” you quirk an eyebrow.

“Just—trust me, babe. Please. Go upstairs, put this on, and come back down when you’re ready.”

You stand there, staring at him like he’s lost his mind. Because he must have. “Hyuck, I am not—”

“Please,” he interrupts, his voice softer now. “Just this once. Do this for me. It’ll all make sense.”

His eyes meet yours, and for all the frustration boiling under your skin, you can’t ignore the quiet sincerity in his voice. Because even though his recent actions have been enough to make your paranoia spike, he’s still your Hyuck—and you trust your Hyuck.

With a sharp huff, you snatch the garment bag from his hands and stomp upstairs, slamming the bedroom door behind you before he can say another word. Your pulse is racing, irritation curling hot in your chest as you yank the zipper down and pull the dress out with more force than necessary.

It’s beautiful. And that pisses you off even more.

Who does he think he is? Sneaking around all week, ignoring you for days, then showing up with a pretty dress and expecting you to put it on without question?

Annoying. He’s so annoying.

Still scowling, you step into the dress, the silky fabric gliding over your skin like it was made for you, and knowing Hyuck he’d probably ask someone to do that for him. It fits perfectly, hugging every curve, and when you catch your reflection in the mirror, your anger stutters—just for a second. It’s beautiful. You look beautiful.

Damn it.

You swipe at your eyes before anything ridiculous like tears can form and square your shoulders. Fine. You’ll wear the dress. But you’re not going to let him off the hook so easily. Throwing the door open, you march downstairs, irritation simmering beneath the surface of your foundation. “Lee Donghyuck, you better—”

But you freeze.

Because he’s standing at the bottom of the steps in an equally beautiful suit, rocking on his heels, with a small, nervous smile playing on his lips. He’s holding a corsage in his hands—delicate flowers wrapped in silk, matching your dress perfectly.

And then, all at once, it clicks.

That fucking yearbook you found. The conversation that came after it. The sneaking around. The secrecy. 

Your breath catches in your throat, warmth creeping up your neck as a blush dusts his skin. He chews his lip, eyes flickering up to meet yours, and if you didn’t know him any better, you’d swear he was nervous.

Hyuck never gets nervous.

“Do you wanna rewrite prom with me?”

And just like that, you break.

Tears slip down your cheeks before you can stop them, and Hyuck’s smile falters just slightly as he steps forward, hand reaching out to you, as if he’s ready to catch you, to hold you close, if you were to fall. But you don’t fall. You just nod, because it feels impossible to do anything else.

How could you say no to him? How could you possibly deny the one person in the world who would do something like this for you—not because he had to, but because he wanted to, because he loves you to a point you never thought possible because he needs you to be happy.

“I love you,” you choke out through your happy tears, the words tumbling from your lips before you can stop them.

Hyuck’s worry shifts into something warmer, something softer. He steps closer, brushing his thumb gently against your cheek to wipe away the tear.

“Does that mean we’re not breaking up, then?” His voice is teasing, but there’s a tenderness underneath, a soft hope in his eyes that mirrors the love you just confessed.

Your heart skips a beat, and you nod through blurry eyes, a small smile breaking through. “Not even close.”

His face splits into the brightest grin you’ve ever seen, and before you can say anything else, he’s pulling you into his arms, rocking you side to side like he’s never going to let go. It’s overwhelming—the warmth of him, the scent of his cologne, the steady beat of his heart against your ear. And for once, you let yourself lean into it, let yourself feel just how much he loves you, because God, does he know how to show it.

“I love you too, you know,” he murmurs, voice quieter now, meant just for you. “Like, stupidly. Like, I’m gonna remind you every day until you’re sick of me, because I never want you to think I’m cheating on you ever again.”

You huff a laugh, sniffling. “I don’t think I could ever be sick of you.”

“Mm, we’ll see about that.” He pulls back just enough to look at you, taking in the glassiness in your eyes, the heat in your cheeks. Then, with a smirk, he presses the corsage into your hands. “Your favourite colour.”

“Now,” he says, stepping back and offering his arm, “if we don’t leave soon, Mark might actually rip my balls off.”

It takes you a second to register what he means, and when you glance past him, you see Mark leaning against his car, arms crossed, exuding pure suffering. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here, but you know your Hyuck can be very convincing. 

“Are you two done?” Mark calls, exasperated. “Because I have better things to do than play chauffeur for your little rom-com tonight.”

“Liar!” Hyuck yells, dragging you toward the car. “If you weren’t here, you’d be playing video games with Chenle or something. Your life is boring and bitchless!”

Mark groans but doesn’t deny it.

“Wait! One more thing,” Hyuck gasps, stopping you just as you’re about to step into the car. Before you can question it, he’s already sprinting back inside. A few seconds later, he bursts through the door, holding up a letterman jacket that doesn’t match your old school’s colours, but his. 

And when he drapes it over your shoulders, his fingers lingering just a little longer than necessary, his gaze catches on his surname stitched across your back. His cheeks flush that familiar shade of pink, and for once, he’s the one left speechless.

You clutch your hands to the jacket, making sure it doesn’t fall off and you can’t stop smiling. Because even though he was just being a fouled-mouthed menace to his friend. He’s clearly only ever sweet and soft with you. Hyuck opens the car door for you and he slides in beside you, lacing his fingers through yours like it’s second nature, like they belong. You look down at your joined hands, his thumb stroking slow circles against your skin, and warmth blooms in your chest.

The corsage, the letterman, the chauffeur to prom. It’s silly. It’s cheesy. It’s the kind of thing you used to roll your eyes at in movies as a teenager. But right now, with him, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. Because he’s rewriting how you feel about the cheesy stuff, giving you the giddy, reckless kind of love you never got to have. 

Letting his hand rest on your thigh, making you stifle your sighs as it slowly crept up your flesh. His touch is heedless and uncaring as if Mark wasn’t inches away in the front seat. It’s compulsive, carless, and so ridiculously juvenile—it’s so high school.

Which feels very on-brand as you pull up to an old brick building. Mark cuts the engine, allowing Hyuck to round the car and open your car door before holding your hand tight and walking you towards the football field.

So many memories flooded back to you as soon as he opened the gate that led to the field. Heels on the grass, on the sacred sanctuary you never had the chance to belong on. Suddenly you’re sixteen again and Hyuck leds you over to the bleachers, climbing up several rows before taking a seat and pulling you down next to him. 

"Are we trespassing right now?" you ask, slipping your arms into his letterman to ward off the winter chill. "I know you love me, but you don’t have to commit a crime for me."

Hyuck scoffs, a playful smirk on his lips. "Please, you know I wouldn’t think twice about committing a crime for you if you asked me to." He pauses, then adds, "But no, we’re not trespassing. This is my old high school, and since I'm such an outstanding alumni, I had some strings pulled. They left me the key for tonight."

You roll your eyes, trying to hide your smile. "So they did all this just for you, huh?"

“Don’t look at me like that, this is for us.”

"Uh-huh," you tease. "I must say, knowing how to ball in high school seems to have its perks. I was in the wrong clubs clearly. You’re basically the only person I know who managed to continue peaking after high school."

Hyuck’s smile falters, a flicker of something sad crossing his face. His eyes drift downward, and you catch that same troubled look he had when you found his yearbook—when he learned how different your high school experiences were. You don’t want him to feel like that, not when he’s trying so hard to fix it. But you don’t want him to fix it either, because as messed up as your teenage years were, they led you to him. No one’s ever had you. Not like him anyway. 

You slide your hand over his, squeezing gently as you move closer. “You didn’t have to do all this for me, you know?”

Hyuck chuckles, that flicker of sadness vanishing as quickly as it came. “Don’t say that. You haven’t even seen what I’ve got planned inside yet. I had all the boys stressed over fairy lights and balloons all week.”

Knowing how much effort he’s put in makes you smile, your fingers drifting up to trace the curve of his cheek. He’s so beautiful. So in love. So undeniably yours.

“I’m excited to see it,” you say. “But right now, I just want to be here. Is that okay? I never really got to hang out on the bleachers.”

“Will you yell at me if I say that a sick part of me loves that you never cheered for other guys playing football?”

You shake your head with a smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m just saying,” he continues, undeterred. “Yeah, I wanna kill those assholes for never inviting you to a game, for not taking you to prom. But I also love that I get to be the one to do it with you. Even if we’re adults.”

You bite your lip, feigning hesitation. “Well, I have some information I think you might like.”

Hyuck raises a brow. “Oh?”

“I always wanted to make out under the bleachers,” you admit, heat creeping up your neck. “Call me cliché, but when I was a freshman, I imagined having my first kiss with Lee Felix under there.”

His nose crinkles instantly. “I don’t know who that is, but I hate him.” Hyuck scoffs, but his hands are already sliding around your waist, pulling you closer. “Still… this night is about me making your fantasies come true. So fuck that guy and let me kiss you, baby.”

And you do—let his lips capture yours, kissing you until they’re swollen and puffy, until they mould perfectly to his, like they were always meant to. Until there’s no doubt that they, and you, belong to him.

Hyuck wastes no time, scooping you into his arms with ease, carrying you into the shadows beneath the rickety metal frame. And then his lips are on yours again—hungry, unrelenting. It’s everything you ever imagined. No—better. Because it’s him and you. 

His hand trails up your body as he presses you against one of the cold metal pillars, calloused fingers graze your thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Years of football have roughened his touch, but it’s the way he holds you—like he can’t get enough, like he never will—that really makes your breath hitch. And you almost want to laugh, because you’re pretty sure most people fuck after prom, not before it. But this is you and Hyuck. You’ve never played by the rules, never followed the scripted path. You never wanted to.

And that’s exactly why a soft, desperate “Please,” slips from your lips as his fingers venture higher, until they’re brushing against the hem of your panties.

“Cute,” he smiles and murmurs against your lips, grinning as his fingers slip beneath the fabric, his cool touch grazing your clit. You shiver, and it only makes him that more pleased—more proud. His other hand glides up your stomach, sneaking beneath your dress until he’s palming your breast, his thumb teasing over your nipple.

“You know…” he muses, voice dripping with amusement, “I paid good money for this dress. It’d be a shame to ruin it.”

“Please. You’d never buy me a dress you didn’t plan on ruining.”

Hyuck giggles, shaking his head, but before you can run that smart mouth of yours again, his finger slips so easily into your pussy, and you gasp, clinging to his shoulders.

“Fuck,” he breathes against your ear, voice thick with need. “I love that you know me so well.”

His fingers keep working you, desperate and wild—because if you know Hyuck so well, he knows you even better. Knows your body like it’s his to worship. And when he adds a second finger, stretching you open, pleasure floods through you so intensely your eyes flutter shut, your head tipping back as a moan catches in your throat.

But that won’t do.

Hyuck likes to watch you. Likes to see the way your lips part, the way your brows knit together, the way your pupils blow wide with nothing but him. He wants you to know—no, needs you to know—that he’s the one making you feel this good. That it’s his touch unravelling you, his name you should be thinking about, whimpering, crying out.

So the second your lashes flicker, his fingers slow, teasing, withholding. You whimper, forced to open your eyes again, hazy and weak—just the way he likes them—just the way he needs them to be before he picks up his pace.

He’s meticulous, careful—determined to make you cum right here, right now. If your fantasy was just to make out under the bleachers, Hyuck is going to take it further, push it past anything you ever imagined. He’s going to make you cum here, again and again, until this moment is burned into your memory. Until you can never think about high school, about this field, about these bleachers, without thinking about him. About the way he touched you. About the way he made it perfect. He always makes everything perfect. 

“Need you to cum all over my fingers, pretty girl. Come on,” he murmurs, pinching your clit as he tries to coax an orgasm out of you. And it doesn’t take long. The honeyed rasp of his voice, the relentless rhythm of his fingers, the way his eyes stay locked on yours—it’s all too much. You shatter around him with a high-pitched moan.

“Atta girl,” he breathes, watching you with nothing but admiration. “So fucking pretty when you cum for me.”

Your mind is fuzzy, his words melting into white noise as you come down from your high on shaky legs. If it weren’t for the pillar at your back, you’re certain you’d be a puddle on the floor. Hyuck holds you close, his hand stroking your hair as he murmurs soft praises against your ear—something about being so pretty, so good, so his. But all you can focus on is the growing bulge in his pants, the evidence of just how much he wants you. A bulge you put there. One you’re aching to take care of.

You start to drop to your knees, and he sucks in a breath, his eyes locked on yours.

“Stop,” he commands harshly, stepping back as if something’s shifted. It forces you to stand up straight again, confusion crossing your face.

“Don’t you want me to—”

“Oh, I fucking want you to, and you’re going to,” he growls. Then, he peels off his suit jacket and drapes it on the concrete floor between you two. “Now, you can get on your knees for me, Y/N,” he orders, his voice rough and commanding, but then it cracks, desperately. “Please.”

You lower yourself onto his suit jacket, kneeling before him, palms pressing firmly against his thighs. His erection is hard, straining through his suit pants, but he’s waited—waited until he knew you’d be most comfortable because that’s just who he is. 

“Look at you,” he says, running his thumb over your mouth. “Puffy lips parted and ready for me. Big fucking eyes, so innocent, so needy.”

“Only for you, Hyuck,” you breathe softly as you start undoing his belt and his jaw visibly ticks.

You’ve sucked his cock before—of course you have, and you love it. And still, he looks at you like it’s the first time, nostrils flaring, pupils dilated, as he drinks in every detail of your eagerness. He’s so hungry to feel you, to get lost in you—so feral.

Using his forefinger, he lifts your chin, forcing your chin and attention on him. “I know, baby. Only me. Always me.”

You run your tongue over your lower lip, and he tracks the entire thing, looking like some kind of predator.

“Take it out.”

You comply, dropping his pants to his ankles and tugging his boxer briefs down with them. His cock springs free, angry veins visible and the tip glistening. The sight of his straining cock right in front of you pulls this desperate sound from deep in his throat. He traces every inch of your face as if he plans to paint it soon, and you’d let him.

His palm glides over your head again, fingers weaving through your hair, cupping the back of your skull to keep you anchored in place. Rough and dominant—just how he likes it, and just how you crave it.

“I need to fuck your mouth, baby. Seeing you cum in my letterman has got me so damn hard. I need this pretty mouth,” he whimpers as his palm rests on your scalp. “You’re gonna let me do that aren’t you? Because you’re such a good fucking girl.”

You nod and squirm in anticipation, using the tip of your tongue to lick a path over his slit, savouring the salty taste from the bead of precum. His eyes instantly roll back and you grip his shaft with one hand and lick a path from root to tip.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Just like that,” he hisses between his teeth as his entire body vibrates.

You look up at him, fluttering your lashes over heavy eyes. Because the only thing Hyuck craves more than his own pleasure is the sight of yours. You round your lips, sucking him in slowly. Your head bobs as you work your tongue in sync with your lips, but he’s so big, a fact you’ll never get used to. He hits the back of your throat and you hold him there, swallowing around his tip, tears welling at the corners of your eyes as your throat tightens with a gentle choke.

"Fuck—" He lurches forward, one hand gripping the pillar for support while the other tugs at your hair, pulling you off him just long enough to catch your breath—because he's nothing if not considerate.

Hyuck runs his thumb by the corner of your eye, gathering the moisture that pooled there.

“I’m ruining your makeup,” he muses, lips curling into a smirk. “I had prom pictures planned.”

A blush creeps on your cheeks, “We don’t have to take them.”

“We’re taking them.” There’s no question in his tone. It’s simply a statement. A demand. “Then I’m keeping a copy in my wallet, so next time I’m on tour, fisting my cock, I can think about you. About this."

You nod, breath hitching. "O-okay."

"Okay." His thumb drags over your lip again, teasing until you part for him, wrapping around it. He presses down, tugging lightly. "So agreeable. So obedient. Aren’t you?"

"Yes," you breathe.

His smirk deepens. "Good. So you'll keep sucking my cock, won't you?"

You don’t even bother with words—too eager to please, too determined to finish what you started. Your fingers wrap around him, stroking once before you take him back into your mouth, sucking deep before pulling off with a lewd pop. Then you do it again, following his cues, giving him exactly what you know he loves. A slow flick of your tongue along the underside of his head, a firm squeeze as you cup his balls, and then you’re taking him to the back of your throat. His entire abdomen tenses. His breathing turns ragged.

"Fuck." His curse is sharp as he pulls back, just enough to look at you. "I’m gonna cum. You gonna let me cum in your mouth, baby?"

You nod eagerly, mascara streaking your cheeks, spit glistening at the corner of your lips. "Please, Hyuck."

His smirk is wicked. "Are you gonna be a good little girlfriend and swallow it all for me?"

You nod—far too enthusiastically.

"Good. Now, take a deep breath, baby—'cause it’s the last one you’re getting for a while."

He runs a gentle thumb over your cheekbone before guiding your head forward. Your lips part instinctively, wrapping around him as he sets the pace, fucking your mouth with a steady rhythm. His palms cover your ears, his hips roll with precision—nothing but pure pleasure as he chases his high. And you let him. You take it, let him use you because he’s done all of this for you tonight. Because he deserves his reward.

Truthfully, watching Hyuck unravel beneath you—knowing you’re the one making him this needy, this desperate to cum—is your own reward. Because seeing him lost in pure bliss is the hottest thing you’ve ever witnessed.

Your fingernails dig into his skin, leaving faint crescents as he keeps his pace—steady, deliberate—but always mindful, always making sure you can breathe. He checks in with his eyes, just like you said—considerate.

You moan around his length, hips shifting instinctively, searching for friction. And of course, Hyuck notices. He always notices.

"Are you getting turned on from sucking me off, Y/N?" he taunts, through a tight restraint breath. "So wet, even after I already made you cum." He pulls out of your mouth, gaze dark. "Show me. Show me how wet sucking my cock has made you.”

Heat prickles your skin as you reach under your dress, the one he bought, and gather your arousal on two fingers. You bring them up, letting him see the proof, the evidence of just how much you want him.

“Fuck,” he growls, as deep brown eyes turn black as they lock on your fingers. “So fucking obedient.” 

Hyuck leans in, grasping your wrist before guiding your fingers into his mouth. His tongue flicks over the tips, slow and careful, savouring the taste—the proof of how badly he’s wrecked you. Of how much you like him, love him. 

He nods toward his cock, covered in your saliva, hard and twitching, ready to cum. "Make me cum, baby. Please."

You hold his eye contact, grip his cock, and bring your mouth back to cover him. He moans, head falling back, and you work his length with your mouth and hand, doing your best to take what you can’t handle. It doesn’t take long until his hips jerk in short, sloppy movements. His breath comes out in ragged gasps, moans soft but pitched, the sound of him unravelling.

“Y/N,” he cries out your name in a whimper of desperation. One hand finds yours, holding it tenderly, while the other braces on the pillar behind you. Then, he cums—hard.

He tries to keep his eyes locked on yours, because that’s his favourite part, but the sensation overwhelms him, and he has to shut them. Every muscle in his body tightens as hot, forceful pulses hit the back of your throat.

“So pretty like this,” he pants breathlessly. “Mouth full of my cum.” The pad of his thumb traces down the line of your throat. “You’re gonna swallow it, aren’t you?”

It’s not a question, and you don’t hesitate. You swallow all of him, but it’s not enough. You need more—need him inside of you.

“Fuck me, please, Hyuck.”

He shakes his head, a teasing smile tugging at his lips and then he laughs. He uses the hand he’s had entangled with yours to pull you up to your feet, steadying you gently. “I can’t. Not here.”

You pout, disappointed, your body aching for him. “Why not?”

His smile widens as he adjusts your dress, pulling the fabric down to cover you properly, the moment feeling suddenly too sweet considering he was just fucking your throat.

“Because,” he draws out playfully, “I planned a prom, and like all cheesy teenagers, I don’t plan to fuck you here.”

You quirk a brow, crossing your arms across your body. But before you can say anything, Hyuck fumbles with his suit jacket, dropping to the floor to search the pockets. His hands hover for a second before he pulls out a room key, holding it up like some kind of trophy.

You scoff with a mix of amusement and disbelief. “Very cliché.”

He grins at you. “I think we have pictures to take.”

[igotallthecake]

Pairing: Clark Kent x male bottom reader.

(FIRST STORY BTW)

A/n requests open!

Summary: you and your best friend Clark went out to go drink after a long day at work. Getting drunk and wasted. You two are now in your bedroom having a dick measurement competition, and obviously he wins. And you two had a deal. The loser has to get pounded in bed so hard all night till noon. Well buckle up for a long night of fucking.

Warnings: ass eating, top Clark, bottom m!reader, ass slapping(r!receiving), size difference, rough sex. No breaks. Face down ass up.

“C-Clark this is so embarrassing!!” You had no idea how this happened. First you two were drinking, second you guys were doing a dick measuring competition which you lost sadly. And now here you are face down ass up with ur ass out and ready to be fucked, and with Clark who had all his clothes stripped with his huge massive cock hanging right in the middle of his Luscious thighs.

Clark smiles so mischievously. Oh his stupid fucking grin, knowing he gets to pound his best friends fat ass just makes his cock jump. “Cm’on y/n. We had a deal, whoever wins gets to fuck the other. You promised..” Clark pouts. Resting his chin on your ass. “Well that was until I was the one getting fucked!!” You protested. “ please? Just this once..” those stupid puppy eyes..he always gives you those puppy eyes when he wants something really bad. But who could say no to a face like that?. With a of your eyes You sigh in defeat. “Fine..but only this once!” Clark smiles and nods.

He grabs both of your cheeks. Spreading them to take a look at your pretty pink and hairless hole.

Licking his lips he sticks out his tongue and teasingly licks a huge stripe up your ass. “Mhm..” you moan quietly. Covering your mouth with your hands. Legs already shaking from the pleasure. He licks the inside of your hole. Slithering around your gummy walls. His hand raises and landed straight on your ass. Leaving a huge red imprint. You flinch at the pain but feel a bit of pleasure from it. He gives your ass a few harsh spanks and rubs the sore spots. He continues to lick your hole until it’s nice and lose and ready for him.

“You ready for this cock hm?” His cock is as hard as a rock. He lines it up to your hole and pushes the tip in. “Y-yes daddy! I want it so bad..!” With that he slams in. Practically making your belly bulge from the force. You moan so loudly you forgot to even cover your mouth. Your eyes rolling at the back of your head. Pounding in and out of your hole so hard. Clark’s cock starts to twitch. He grunts through every thrust, getting closer and closer to cumming. And so were you “c-cummi daddy!!” Your eyes roll to the back of your head (I mean who’s wouldn’t??) gripping the sheets “cum with me baby. Cmon cum with daddy.!” Grunting and whimpering bounces off the walls. Clark’s thrusts gets more sloppy and messy. He moans cumming into your hole. Filling every crevice and painting your gummy walls with white slimy cum. He pants, collapsing beside you, chest breathing up and down rapidly. “That..t-that was so good..fuck my ass hurts though..” you both laugh and sigh, Clark grabs you by the waist. Bringing the blanket up and big spoons you. He inserts his cock in your ass and adjusted it in. “W-wait I thought we were done?!” You said with those stupid cute and confused eyes. “Cmon puppy..this is only the beginning we still have all night to go..maybe even all evening..so prepare yourself ;3..”

Bang bang bang moan all night and yeh

A/n: hey my puppy’s I hope you enjoyed that it’s literally my FIRST. Ever fic I have done in..literally ever. I hope you enjoyed and byeee

@boypied @starboye pls notice me I made this for you😞💔❤️🫶🫶

A/n; p.s please anyone try to motivate me I need it to write more bc I’m lazy

[dduane]

Erotica and anniversaries

...The big E, first. Here she is. Isn't she lovely?

...Right there upstairs at the Library of Congress, on the second floor. (I noted at the time we passed through some years back—and continue to smile at the memory—that her artist has included his copyright statement right there, to make sure no one misses it.)

...Anyway, where were we? ...Oh yeah: the local takes on erotic writing and smut.

This subject seems to come up every couple of years. What nudged me into revisiting it this time was the notes off a comment to a post earlier today, responding to someone working on an explicit-leaning AU, and discussing the writing of (story) bibles for projects.

Anyway, the notes:

#love that the advice was not just 'stick to porn' or 'don't write porn at all' but 'ah yes; common problem; let me explain to you how to write a series bible'

Well, disclosure here: in my case, it can't really be otherwise. :)

Let this act as everybody's sort-of-biennial reminder (if needed) that I'm not going to be caught condemning people for writing smut, as I've written it myself. (And continue to do so when the mood moves me.)

The post from very nearly two years ago, discussing the issue in more detail, is over here. As you'll see if you read it, there were some folks who experienced brief episodes of cognitive dissonance on learning I was a cheerful writer of explicit material. Some of the surprise was probably due to the fact that a lot of people see me—mostly due to the relatively-higher profile of the Young Wizards books—as primarily a writer for younger readers.

But that's not how I got started. My (1979) debut novel centers a universe where the following exchange between two of the protagonists appears—they then being wrapped up in blankets and afterglow in the wake of a prolonged and enthusiastic post-reunion shag:

A soft chuckle in the darkness. “Lorn, remember that first time we shared at your place?” “That was a long time ago.” “It seems that way.” “—and my father yelled up the stairs, ‘What are you dooooooooing?’ “—and you yelled back, ‘We’re fuckinnnnnnnnnnng!’” “—and it was quiet for so long—” “—and then he started laughing—” “Yeah.”

Nor was this a one-off. This book and its sequels contain a fair number of passages in which human (and occasionally non-human) sexualities, both in the abstract and the experientially concrete, take center stage. And the mode in which they're expressed and discussed is intended for adults. Those sequences can probably be described as at least borderline erotica. (I certainly try had to be as graceful about such passages as I can, when and where it's appropriate to be.)

With this in mind, it's worth repeating what turns up in that earlier post, which came off a query to a ficcer about "how do you feel knowing that people may be jerking off to your work?":

I'm an entertainer. Writing's a form of entertainment. (And not just for the readership: for me, too.) To be aroused by art one's experienced is (almost by definition) to be entertained, I'd say...

Other people's art in these modes certainly is entertaining for me: and I desperately hope mine is for other people. (Almost all my more explicit writing is published only pseudonymously, which from my point of view is just fine. There's a fair amount of writing work out in the world that [for contractual or other business reasons] doesn't have my name on it. This is just more of the same.)

(Per that, adding here again my own tags from that earlier post:)

#and no I'm not going to let on where the smut is#why would i deny anyone the delights of the search#and of being repeatedly mistaken#while possibly finding smut writers who're better at it than i am#:)

Anyway, finally: from that earlier post—on nearly the thirty-eighth anniversary of something happening to me that would, just a year before the event, have seemed wildly unlikely—this note, unusually apposite because of what today is, and what's coming tomorrow.

I consider erotica—and its more casually-dressed (or undressed…) cousin, smut—to be perfectly legit forms of literary expression; ones that can soar to unexpected heights if you’re willing to put in the work. The sexy-stuff-writing muscle requires periodic exercise if it’s to remain viable and/or useful. So I exercise it. And being a 70-plus-year-old person who sometimes creaks audibly when she walks has done absolutely nothing to decrease my interest in the subject—the brain being, after all, the biggest sex organ, and the one least vulnerable to the depredations of time. If anything, nearly fifty years of experience (and more than three and a half decades of marriage to @petermorwood) have added… let’s just say nuance. 😏

So, happy Valentine's Day to all those who choose to celebrate, in whatever mode.

And to the Man Upstairs:

...See you in a few, sweetie. :)

[chleem]

Wonder what is going on with casual!drew and reader in valentine’s :////

⋆.˚ Warnings: angst w/ a side of fluff (read at own caution

word count: 3.5k

──── 𝜗𝜚 ─────

As you made your way to checkout, you weren’t so sure anymore. 

It was your first Valentines’ with Drew, your casual relationship for…more than five months now. 

He was next to you, mindlessly pushing the cart, AirPods in one ear, eyes focused on the snack aisle. 

You couldn’t help but feel…disappointed? Sad? Weird?

It was casual, yes, but it was Valentine’s day. 

Valentine’s wasn’t just another day. It was the day, the one where people at least tried to show they cared—whether with a gesture or a simple acknowledgment. 

And while you’ve convinced yourself you were fine with the way things were between you two, a small part of you had hoped for something, anything. 

A hint that maybe, just maybe, Drew felt differently about you today.

No. He didn’t. 

Starting with this morning, no text. No call. 

Well, only one, and it was ‘dinner at yours?’

Okay, you had to admit, that got you a bit excited, because maybe he got something planned? 

But as the hours passed, there was nothing.

You didn’t see him at any point during the day, except for lunch. He was with his friends, laughing, hanging out, acting like… he would, on a normal day. But then, at one point, you could’ve sworn he flirted with that one girl.

The hours leading up were just bumping into couples in hallways, boring lectures, etc. 

And now here you were, walking through the aisles of the supermarket with Drew, sharing AirPods, grabbing groceries like it was…just another day. 

Maybe it was. You weren’t sure. 

As you walked toward the checkout, it was clear—he hadn’t even mentioned it. 

You glanced at him again, trying to gauge if maybe he was just oblivious, or if this was exactly what he wanted—no pressure, no expectations. 

Causal, casual, casual. 

But what you felt wasn’t relief; it was…you weren’t sure. 

Finally, mustering up the courage, you nudge his side, getting his attention. 

You could feel his blue eyes staring down at you as you both neared the end of the aisle. 

"Drew?" Your voice barely above a whisper as you looked ahead. God, were you nervous?

“Yeah?” His hand pushes on the cart, fingers drumming gently to the beat of I’ll make love to you. 

“…do you know what day it is?”

“Friday,” he answers almost immediately, and you can hear the slight confusion in his voice. 

Oh wow. So…he really doesn’t know?

“Right,” you say, your voice almost flat as you try to play it cool. “Friday.”

“Yeah?” This yeah was definitely a confused one. 

You and Drew exit the snacks aisle, making your way to the checkout counters. It's silent for a few steps, the air thick with the awkwardness, until—

"Something wrong?”

His voice is softer now, a little more tentative. He’s trying to figure out what’s going on, and part of you wants to just brush it off—tell him it’s no big deal.

You glance over at him, his blue eyes searching your face for some kind of answer, but you’re not sure of what to say.

Tell him and have him get you something last minute? 

That would…feel much more worse. 

But just as you’re about to settle on saying nothing, the seasonal aisle catches your eye. 

Aka, The Valentine’s aisle. Bright reds and pinks, heart-shaped boxes, plush bears, and cards scattered across the shelves. Everything screams Valentine’s and stands out like a neon sign, as if to make sure you’re fully aware that today was supposed to be special for someone.

It feels like the universe is saying, Here, you can’t ignore it anymore. 

Drew follows your gaze,

“Oh,”

He whispers, as if realizing. 

You watch his back, your eyes scanning the t-shirt that outlines his muscles, hoping to see anything—anything that might indicate he’s getting it now. Maybe a shift in his posture, a tightening in his shoulders, like he’s finally clued in. 

But no. Nothing. 

He stands there for a beat, his hands still resting loosely on the cart. 

In your AirPods, it’s now playing What a girl wants. 

You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath, until he turns back around, his eyes meeting yours, and there’s…a smile on his lips. 

A smile that, for the first time today, seems like maybe he does get it. 

“Okay,” his hands leaves the cart, wrapping around your waist. He pulls you close to him, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. 

Drew’s height towers over you, and he’s looking down at you with that, signature- almost smitten look of his. 

You rest your arms on his chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat matching the quick thrum of yours.

Is he gonna say it? Will you be my Valentine-

“Happy Valentine’s, y/n.”

Your heart skips a beat. 

But then, your eyebrows furrow, and the frown on your face betrays you, unable to hide the disappointment that creeps in.

You expected something more. You wanted him to say it, to choose you in that moment, to make this first Valentine’s together something that felt significant. 

And yet, it’s just… casual.

You pull back slightly, giving him a soft, but hesitant smile, the silence hanging heavier than before. You can’t help but wonder if he realizes how much this matters—or if it matters to him at all.

Drew seems to notice, and the hands on your waist gives it a slight pinch, “what?”

You take a deep breath, trying to shake off the embarrassment that’s clouding your chest. 

Fuck- you really thought he was gonna say it?

No- no, it’s just casual. 

“Happy Valentine’s,” you whisper to him, barely above a murmur. Without giving him a chance to respond, you pull away from his arms, your hands gripping the cart.

Suddenly, you just want to get out of here. You don’t even know why— you just do. 

The wheels of the cart squeak as you push it forward, your pace quickening slightly as you make your way toward the checkout. 

Drew doesn’t follow immediately, but you can hear his footsteps behind you as he catches up.

His hands overlap yours on the cart, and you feel his chest press against your back as you continue toward the long line of checkout. His presence is undeniable now—warm and familiar.

He doesn't say anything at first, and for a moment, it feels like he's waiting for you to make the first move, to give him a sign that everything’s okay—or to tell him what’s wrong.

His fingers tighten around the handle of the cart, his hand large compared to yours. 

“It’s Valentine's day, right?” 

You can hear his smile, even though you’re not looking directly at him.

“Yeah,” you reply quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “It is.”

“Okay…you mad?”

The line moves forward, so Drew gently pushes you and the cart forward. 

His breath hits your ear every time with how close he is, and you could feel yourself going limp, harder to stay upset now. 

“I’m not mad.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“…you wanna go back and forth like this?”

His tone is light, but you can hear the frustration that peaks out. He’s trying to keep it casual, trying to play it off, but you can tell he's getting frustrated too.

Before you can say anything, the cashier cuts in with a sharp “Next!” 

Drew steps back, the pressure of his body against yours vanishing, but his warmth lingers, as if it’s still tied to you.

The two of you move synchronously, like this routine is one you’ve done a thousand times. You start unloading the items onto the counter, the soft beeps of the register filling the silence between you.

But then, as you reach into the cart to grab the next item, your fingers brush against something familiar... condoms. 

Blood rushes to your cheeks, even hotter than before.

Oh, it’s not just any kind—it’s labeled Valentine's Special. 

The packaging is red and glossy, with hearts and some playful wording plastered across the front.

His hands come in contact with yours, and when you look up, it's Drew, gently taking the box from your grasp. 

“It was the last one...” he murmurs, so casually, but there's a teasing curl of his lips as he pretends to inspect the box. 

He then places the Valentine's special box on the counter, its vibrant, awkwardly festive packaging sitting there between you and the cashier like a beacon of... well, awkwardness.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, no longer upset, rather, more self-conscious than ever. 

It’s one thing to buy condoms, but another to buy different flavors or special packaged-ones. 

Drew doesn’t seem embarrassed at all. In fact, he looks almost too relaxed, like he's having fun with it.

Knowing you’re too focused on that Valentine’s condom on the counter, Drew finishes loading the rest onto the counter, the cashier bagging up the items. 

“How would you like to pay?” the cashier asks, breaking the silence.

“Card,” Drew responds, pulling out his wallet and swiping the card without a second thought. 

Drew finishes the payment, grabbing the bag, his eyes flicking to you with that amused smile on his face again.

One of his hands lingers on the small of your back, his fingers just barely grazing the skin there as he guides you towards the exit. He then leans in, his voice low and teasing, “excited, baby?” he whispers, the words almost like a soft joke.

As soon as you feel like the cashier is out of earshot, you can't help yourself, gently scolding him, although, the smile on your lips betray you, “Drew!”

He chuckles softly, not even the slightest bit rattled by your reaction. 

“Thought we, we’d try something special,” he shrugs. 

The supermarket doors open automatically, and you feel his hand slip down into the back pocket of your jeans, as he reaches for his car keys.

The feeling of his fingers brushing against your ass sends a jolt through you, making you yelp. 

The ticklish sensation makes your body instinctively pulling away just a little, which only makes it harder for him to look for his keys.

He lets out a soft laugh, the sound warm and amused, but his hand stays right where it is, maybe lingering a bit longer. 

Drew knows you’re ticklish, and he knows there’s no need to keep his car keys in your pocket.

But he does it anyways, all the time. 

“Hey,” you murmur, your hands going to rub your ass, where he touched. 

There’s still a smile on his lips as he finally pulls his fingers out of the tight back pocket of your jeans, pressing the ‘start’ button for his car. 

The sound of the car beeping open echoes in the quiet parking lot, and the trunk lifts automatically.

You both start walking toward the car, and Drew tosses the big bag of groceries into the trunk in one smooth motion, closing it after. 

Then the soft thud of the car door, as both of you settle in—Drew sliding into the driver’s seat, and you into the passenger’s. 

The familiar scent of his car hits you immediately, and its weirdly comforting in a way, but also stirring. 

Almost immediately, as Drew starts driving out of the parking lot, one of his hands rest on your thigh, the touch gentle yet grounding. 

Casual, casual, casual. 

You reach forward and press play on his car screen. 

Playing, Every breath you take. 

“Fucking classic,” Drew murmurs under his breath, eyes focused on the road ahead. 

A smile tugs at your lips at his comment, and you find yourself resting your head gently on his arm, surprisingly comfortable.

For the rest of the way back, the two of you just... settle into the silence. The music drifts through the air, and the shared playlist seems to pull you both into a space where words aren't necessary.

——

Once you stepped out the elevator, a girl stops you, her smile wide as she catches your attention.

Drew watches, as the two of you go on about…actually, he lost interest the moment she opened her mouth. 

He gives you a soft tap on your waist, and it immediately pulls your attention back to him. When you meet his eyes, he cocks his head toward the bag of groceries, a silent hint that he's going to head to your dorm first. 

You give him a quick nod, before returning to the conversation with the girl, maybe your classmate? Or friend? Drew didn’t care. 

As Drew makes his way down the hall, the sound of your voice fading behind him, he finally reaches your dorm. 

But…he stops dead in his tracks, his gaze falling to the floor in front of your door.

There, at his feet, is a large bouquet of roses. Bright, bold, and impossibly out of place in the otherwise quiet hallway.

What…the fuck? 

For a second, he just stands there, the usual confidence draining from his posture as he takes in the unexpected sight.

Drew then notices a small, white card tucked in amongst the flowers. His expression flickers, a quiet moment of hesitation before he slowly bends down.

His hand reaches for the card, fingers brushing lightly over the petals before finally gripping it. 

Drew’s eyes scan the words written on the card, his brows furrowing deeper with each sentence.

It slowly comes to his realization that this is a love letter…for you!

He blinks, re-reading the opening line. “‘I’ve liked you, y/n, for a very long time, please accept this…’” 

His grip on the card tightens, jaw clenched. The words on the card are so sincere, so lovingly—what the fuck?

Drew flips the card over, almost desperately, hoping to find any clue as to who might’ve sent this to you. 

And there it is, written in neat handwriting: Mike.

His mind scrambles for a moment, trying to place the name.

Mike…mike…mike…who the…

Then, it clicks.

Mike. That first-year at the bar. The one you bumped into a few weeks ago, the one at the library. 

It’s him. The guy who's clearly interested in you, and now he’s made his move with this…this huge bundle of flowers and cringey confession. 

His mind races, the feelings of frustration, confusion, and jealousy— all fighting for control. 

But, what he’s feeling right now isn’t what’s concerning. 

What’s concerning, is what to do with these roses? 

Then, he hears footsteps, coming his way, and slightly panicked, he crumbles the card up, forcing it into his pocket.

You stand there, only a few steps away, your eyes flickering between the roses on the floor and Drew bending- well, practically kneeling next to it now.

Closing the distance, you bend down next to him, eyes focused on the roses. 

And Drew sees it, clear as day; the way your eyes light up, that soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips, and the faintest flush on your cheeks— shy, happy, embarrassed, he didn’t know.

Your hand touches the roses, almost too delicately, and then, you meet his eyes. 

Drew's breath catches. There's something in your eyes—something that feels like…like the entire world is reflected in them.

He’s stunned, his words stuttering out, ”you—“

“Are these for me?” you ask, barely above a whisper. 

“Yeah... they are,” he finally mutters, his voice quieter than usual.

Drew couldn’t help but admire the way you looked- his attention now solely focused on you, as if everything else in the world had faded away. 

You turn to him, eyes soft and full of warmth as you say, “Thank you.”

As if feeling the weight behind those words, you laugh softly, trying to play it off. 

But Drew knows you better than anyone. You’ll cherish these roses till they wither away, he knows it.  

But then your words- ‘thank you,’ flash through his mind, and he lifts his eyebrows slightly, confused. 

“You ordered these…no?”

You thought he was the one that gave you the roses. 

His heart races for a split second as he considers how to handle this.

Then, he decides fuck it, a grin tugging at his lips as he shakes off the knot in his stomach. 

The last time he’d seen you this excited, it was after you won that hotdog-eating contest, and honestly, he would kill to see you that happy again. 

With a gentle shrug, he smiles, “you like it?”

You smile even wider, “very much.”

You pick up the big bouquet of roses from the floor, hugging it tightly to your chest. 

Drew’s grin softens, and he leans in just slightly, his eyes sparkling as he catches your gaze. “Really?”

You stand up, still hugging it as if it might disappear if you let go. “Mhm.”

Drew stands up, “no you don’t,” he whispers, but not a single cell in his body believed you didn’t like it; it’s painted all over your face. 

“I do! I love it,” you say, your voice growing all soft and genuine. 

He stood there, watching you, almost as if time had slowed. 

Standing here, outside your room, with you, with how you cradled the roses to your chest with such tenderness—it made something change inside him, something deep he couldn’t quite place. 

There was something about you in this moment, the sincerity in your smile, the way you looked so... happy.

Drew didn’t expect to feel so conflicted. 

He’d always been the one to keep things light, casual, to avoid feeling too much. 

Was this what it felt like to want more than just the surface? To actually care?

Drew opened his mouth to say something, to make a joke, to deflect—but he couldn’t. He was struck by how genuine you were, how completely different this moment felt from everything else.

“Thank you,” you whispered again, and the words hung in the air, almost as if you were thanking him for more than just the roses.

Were you? Were you thanking him for more than just those roses?

And maybe, just maybe, Drew realized that he was starting to get a little too comfortable with the idea of something more. 

Something more, with you. 

Aw, fuck. 

And he did it, he cuts own his thoughts off, "Prove it.”

Those words practically echo between you two, a challenge wrapped in a husky whisper. 

You glance up at him, a little taken aback, but Drew notices it, the way you quickly recover.

You take a small step forward, "Prove it?”

Drew’s smile is a mix of teasing and something deeper. "Yeah," he murmurs, his eyes scanning your face. "Show me, show me you really mean it.”

Without thinking, you tilt your head just slightly, and then, just as Drew anticipated, you close the gap, pressing your lips to his. 

His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you in, as the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more alive than any of the other moments you'd shared before.

In that kiss, there's no pretending, no games. At least for Drew, there’s no pretending. 

Actually, not a time was he pretending. When he’s kissing you, those kisses are full of all that’s unsaid, and Drew finds himself lost in it. 

And soon enough, the only thing that matters in this moment is the dent forming in Drew’s pants. 

Also…the huge bouquet of roses and grocery bag in the way, almost like a wall. 

He reluctantly pulls away, breathless, eyes flickering between your lips and the flowers. 

Silence flows through the both of you, until Drew speaks up, his voice soft, and in his ears, sounding a bit whimper-like.

“...I'm not hungry anymore." 

You’re not?” you ask, your voice a bit higher than usual.

“I am, but, for something else." 

“…but I’m hungry…” you reply, your words soft, and Drew catches the little pout forming on your lips.

He freezes for a second, seriously contemplating whether he should prioritize his appetite or yours.

Drew decides against it- laughing, the sound low and warm, “Okay- okay.”

Your smile returns, and you reach into his pocket for your dorm keys, hands close to his erection that pokes evidently against his jeans. 

Your eyebrows raise briefly as you take the keys out, unlocking your room. 

Drew watches you, amused but also slightly captivated by how you’ve turned this moment into something playful. But that’s your charm—the way you could take something as intimate as this and make it feel light, effortless. It’s always been that way with you.

But clearly- that guy, Mike, clearly saw something in you too. 

That thought makes a strange twist in his gut, yet, Drew quickly pushes it aside, not wanting to spoil the mood.

The roses might be from someone else, but this moment? That’s all his.

After all, it was Valentine’s Day. 

And it goes without saying, love is in the air, and nothing could ruin it. 

Or- casualness is in the air, or… whatever’s going on between you two. 

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

is there a difference between 'will you be my valentine?' and 'happy valentines.'? i wonder...

elevator | other | official oneshot | extra 1 | extra 2 | extra 3

casual taglist: @maybankslover @rafeyswifey @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @amb3rsaurus @bananaminn @rafecamerons-national-anthem @milky321 @drewnationalgf @iraslore @ursogorgeous13 @jamimers @hockeybabe87 @jqtsblyth @virgochaos @wolvestitches @dontblamethedrunkcaller @thoughtdaughter0

edit: i forgot they got airpods in during shopping...pretend they took it off once they got in the car, okay? ok.

[thetadispatcher]

The RK900 gave him a suspicious look, deciding he'd show some of his internal emotions to see what reaction he'd get from the human. He felt showing a little would help him get a better read of Bishop, and exactly what he wanted from his attempts to upset him.

"Possibly, I wouldn't know as I don't have much to base it on. The only siblings I've interacted with are an android and a human, and two half siblings." And he felt basing anything on Gavin's behavior would be pointless, his partner wasn't a good tool for learning as he seemed to have behaviors that only applied to him.

"Wouldn't be the first time, and I doubt it's far from the last time any government body will do that." Hugh said with a roll of his eyes, he wasn't excited to see how the military would handle it once they found out. He knew it would just be a bunch of lies and finger pointing, not them trying to use the situation to look good for anyone who was pro android. They'd likely find it wasn't worth it to take that angle for the situation as there wasn't enough humans like that to make it worth it.

"I did send him their way, that was the only task I could think to give him." Dan had sent Kelvin to help box up whatever toys the group had picked out, after he'd asked the other androids if there was anything they might need his help with.

"I'm sure he'd appreciate any help that she can offer with his memory issues, I have noticed he does seem a little upset when he's forgotten something he's learned." Kelvin seemed the most upset by his memory loss then anyone else, they'd just accepted that they would have to reteach the android certain things and that he wasn't deleting things on purpose, so there was no use getting upset with him.

"I don't think that thought cross their mind, and if it did, they likely didn't want to explain why they had sold him." Brent had been a gift, not something the studio had ordered, so they likely didn't have to explain why he'd been sold off after they'd pretended to appreciate the gesture.

"He's just up in the garage." Most of the industrial units hung out in the garage, he suspected it was due to the environment being more of what they were accustomed to, as many had never stepped foot into a house so it was new territory for them.

"I have to talk to the construction units anyways." Dan explained as he lead the way to the garage, through the door that connected to two buildings.

A bunch of male and female androids were standing around talking happily and laughing, well some were working on various projects in different sections of the garage.

Dan walked over to the group that was gathered around a car listening to a far younger looking male android explain something in a heavily accented voice. He turned to look at the PL600 as he finished and the group dispersed to do whatever he'd instructed them to do. "Break somethin'?" The android asked with a chuckled, his smile widening at the annoyed look Dan gave him.

"Perhaps, you looking to be next?" The PL600 replied, knowing the other wouldn't take the threat seriously or be offended by it. "Not right now, but I'll let ya know if I change my mind." The other responded cheerfully, clearly enjoying the banter.

The android leaned onto the car jack he'd been holding onto as he looked Rook over. "Now you I don't recognize, name's Ellis." He paused as Dan said something to him using their link. "I don't go by anything else, in case ya thought I renamed myself like Brent. Comin' up with names is hard, and I'm fine with the one I got. Suits me jus' fine." He explained now that he knew why they had come to see him.

"Yeah, I got myself thrown in the junkyard 'cause apparently I wasn't the 'hot seller' my owner thought I'd be. He was wrong a lot, but I' glad I don't have to deal with 'im anymore. Hard to miss a man who felt the need to correct me, like I didn't know how to do the thing I was made for." He rolled his eyes as he recalled the man who'd been his owner, there wasn't much he could say that was nice about him and he wasn't about to try.

"I'm fine with people talkin' to me 'bout who I was modeled after an' stuff, don't bother me. Or other video games, old ones really. Like Jazzpunk, that's an interestin' one."

It was difficult to read Bishop when he could maintain his usual frowny look regardless of the circumstances. His android counterpart specifically chose not to show a greater range of emotions, despite being more open about them, but the agent had spent several decades pretty much surgically removing his.

There was no reason for him to stick around to play a card game and chat when he could be off helping with important research back at the base. But since going back currently wasn't an option, a usually well hidden side of him was beginning to show as he specifically went out of his way to bother Nines.

He couldn't do otherwise. He had to antagonize the other person in the room who was keeping him from having full control of the exchange.

"That's what they all say." At least it was entertaining enough to keep him from trying to find enrichment by starting a fight.

"At this point, all the military can do is hide its involvement in case there is an investigation." He would know. He had done that plenty of times.

"Yes, you can ask Willow to give it a shot." Rook replied, "She might not have a long conversation with him, but she might be able to give you some more information on Kelvin or the way he thinks. It kinda sounds like he's trying to save the stuff you're teaching him on bad sectors of his memory. Maybe she can do something about that."

It was likely that Willow was still listening in on the conversation, but she found showing up with a solution to somebody's problems unprompted could feel a bit condescending. The best way to do this was to inquire her directly.

"That sucks. But at least they didn't start selling him around like a rare collectible." She would make sure to not bring the topic up with Brent though. He deserved to be treated like he was his own person. "Sure, I'd like to meet this other guy."

It was better than getting chased around by mutants.

[amourquinn]

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒 ; quinn hughes

( short fic )

pairing : boyfriend!quinn x fem!reader wc. 1.3k

genre : fluff no warnings

summary : quinn is feeling sore before valentine’s day, so you show up early to take care of him proving that love isn’t about grand gestures — it’s about being there when it matters most

you sighed in relief as you pulled into the driveway of the lake house, the familiar sight of the cabin-like home easing the weight that had settled on your chest for the past few days.

quinn had been here with his brothers for nearly a week, taking a much-needed break from the season. but then, two days ago, he got injured. nothing major—just a rough hit during their pond hockey game that left him with a bruised rib and a sore body. he assured you over the phone that he was fine, but you knew him better than that.

which was exactly why you were here now, a full day earlier than planned.

you stepped out of the car, adjusting the bag slung over your shoulder, and made your way inside. the house was warm, a stark contrast to the winter air outside, and mostly quiet except for the faint sound of a tv playing in another room.

“y/n?”

you turned toward the familiar voice just as jack appeared in the hallway, his face lighting up in surprise. “hey! i thought you were coming tomorrow.”

“i was,” you said, setting your bag down. “but someone i love is too stubborn to admit when he’s not okay, so i figured i’d come early.”

jack snorted. “yeah, that sounds about right.”

“where is he?”

“upstairs, passed out in bed. he’s been exhausted all day.”

you nodded, already making your way toward the stairs. “thanks, jack.”

“no problem. and, y/n?” you paused, looking over your shoulder. jack smirked. “good luck prying him off you when he realizes you’re here.”

you just smiled and headed upstairs.

—

you found quinn exactly how you expected—curled up in bed, buried beneath the blankets, his face relaxed in sleep. his messy hair stuck to his forehead slightly, and you could see the faint furrow in his brows, even in rest.

your heart clenched. he must have been more exhausted than he let on.

carefully, you sat on the edge of the bed, brushing your fingers through his hair. “quinn,” you whispered softly.

he stirred, a quiet groan escaping his lips before his eyes fluttered open. at first, he looked dazed, but then his gaze focused on you, and his entire face softened.

“y/n?” his voice was rough with sleep, but there was something else in it too—relief.

“hey, baby.” you smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “i’m here.”

quinn didn’t waste a second. he shifted, wincing slightly, and pulled you into his arms, tucking his face into your neck. “missed you,” he mumbled against your skin.

you melted into him, running your fingers up and down his back carefully. “i missed you too.”

“you’re early.”

“you didn’t actually think i was gonna let you spend valentine’s day eve injured and alone, did you?”

he huffed a small laugh. “i’m not alone.”

you pulled back slightly, raising a brow. “jack said you’ve been in bed all day.”

quinn sighed, not even trying to argue. “i’m just tired.”

“i know, sweet boy,” you murmured, cupping his face gently. “did you take your meds?”

he hesitated.

“quinn.”

he groaned. “i was gonna.”

you rolled your eyes fondly. “you’re lucky i love you.”

“i know,” he said immediately, lips twitching. “you wouldn’t be here early if you didn’t.”

you sighed, shaking your head before pressing another kiss to his forehead. “stay here. i’ll be right back.”

quinn whined dramatically but let you go, watching as you disappeared into the bathroom. you returned a minute later with a glass of water and the painkillers he was supposed to take.

“sit up,” you instructed gently.

he did as you said, wincing slightly as he adjusted himself. you handed him the pills, watching as he took them before you climbed back into bed beside him.

the second you were settled, quinn wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you close. you fit perfectly against him, your warmth soothing the lingering aches in his body.

“i like you here,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple.

you smiled, threading your fingers through his. “good, because i’m not going anywhere.”

you stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the quiet hum of the tv in the background. quinn’s breathing evened out again, his body relaxing against yours as exhaustion took over.

as you held him, running soft circles along his back, you realized something—this was what love looked like. not grand gestures or extravagant dates, but this. showing up when he needed you. taking care of him when he wouldn’t admit he needed it. just being there.

tomorrow was valentine’s day. but right now, this moment? it was already more than enough.

and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

—

the next morning, you woke up before quinn. that wasn’t a surprise—he was still exhausted, and after everything his body had been through, he needed the rest.

you carefully untangled yourself from his grip, which was a task in itself. even in sleep, he was reluctant to let you go, his arm tightening around your waist every time you moved. but after a few gentle whispers and a kiss to his forehead, he finally relaxed enough for you to slip out of bed.

you tiptoed downstairs, smiling when you saw jack and luke in the kitchen.

“morning,” luke greeted, taking a sip of his coffee. “how’s the patient?”

“still asleep,” you said, grabbing a mug for yourself. “but i want to do something small for him when he wakes up.”

jack smirked. “you’re making us all look bad, you know that?”

you grinned. “that’s the goal.”

you spent the next hour putting together a simple breakfast—pancakes, eggs, and bacon, with a side of fresh fruit. jack and luke helped, mostly by keeping you entertained with stories about quinn growing up, but when you brought up valentine’s day, both of them groaned.

“he’s so bad at it,” luke said. “like, he tries, but—”

“he’s an awkward mess,” jack finished.

you laughed. “i don’t need anything big from him. just him.”

jack mock-gagged. “you guys are disgusting.”

you just rolled your eyes and focused on finishing breakfast.

—

by the time you carried the tray upstairs, quinn was awake, though still groggy. his hair was sticking up in every direction, and he blinked up at you with sleepy confusion as you walked in.

“y/n?” his voice was hoarse.

“happy valentine’s day, sweet boy,” you said softly, setting the tray down beside him.

quinn’s brows furrowed, like he was still catching up. then his gaze dropped to the food, and his expression softened. “you did this for me?”

“of course i did.” you sat beside him, reaching out to brush his messy hair back. “did you really think i wouldn’t?”

quinn didn’t say anything. he just looked at you, like he was trying to figure out how he got so lucky. then, without warning, he leaned forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

you melted instantly.

“thank you,” he murmured when he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours.

“you’re welcome.” you smiled, rubbing your thumb over his cheek. “now eat before it gets cold.”

quinn hummed, pulling the tray onto his lap. he took a bite of the pancakes, and his eyes fluttered shut for a second. “you’re perfect.”

you laughed. “you’re just saying that because i made you food.”

“no,” quinn said, shaking his head. “i mean it.”

you felt your heart squeeze.

you leaned into his side, watching as he ate, feeling the warmth of him against you. maybe it wasn’t some big, grand valentine’s day. there were no fancy dinner reservations, no over-the-top gifts.

but you had this—quiet, simple moments filled with love.

and to you, that was perfect.

© amourquinn

[steddieas-shegoes]

spiderman kiss

for @steddieholidaydrabbles pop-up event for Valentine's Day

rated t | 896 words | no cw | tags: fake dating au, fake wedding date, strangers to lovers, fast burn of the century, getting together, first kiss, modern au

🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️🕸️

“I cannot believe you fell for this guy,” Robin hisses through her teeth as she gestures to Eddie, who is doing his best impression of a bat by hanging upside down from a tree branch. “You were supposed to bring him to the wedding, not want to marry him.”

“Woah. I said I liked him, not that I wanted to marry him,” Steve whispers.

“For you, that’s basically the same thing.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but she’s right. He may not fall for people often, but when he does, it’s all or nothing. Head over heels. Madly, deeply in love.

Eddie was supposed to be his date for this wedding to appease all the kids, to get them to just shut up already about how single he is and how miserable he is when he comes to events alone. He’s Dustin’s friend, apparently someone just as miserably single as Steve.

He’s weird. Steve likes weird.

He’s loud. Steve likes…his loud.

He’s exciting. Steve needs excitement.

He’s also hot. In a metalhead who didn’t get the memo that the 80s are over, wore jeans and a button-up to a formal event, played air guitar in his seat during the bridal march kind of way.

“He’s fun,” Steve settles on, shrugging. “Aren’t you the one who said I need more fun in my life?”

“I meant, like, a new hobby!”

“He could be my new hobby.”

“Ew,” Robin groans. “Okay. Alright, fine. You wanna be involved with him, be my guest. Dustin says he’s never once seen him in a committed relationship.”

Steve knows. They spent most of yesterday together talking, getting to know each other, making sure they could pass as boyfriends and not people who just met. Steve didn’t care about being single at a wedding, but apparently all of his friends had told Dustin’s mom they were dating behind their backs and now-

“Stevie!” Eddie yells when he notices him talking to Robin at the table. “We could Spiderman kiss!”

Steve glances at Robin, who rolls her eyes and throws her hands up. “Oh my god, just go.”

He stands and walks over to Eddie, who is hanging much lower than he should be for a proper Spiderman kiss. He’s grinning, and his hair has started to fall from its messy bun. Steve cannot believe he’s doing this.

He stands with his hands on his hips, smirking at Eddie trying to hold himself up higher, but not having the strength to do it.

“It would be a lot easier to kiss you if you got down,” Steve says.

Everyone goes silent.

Because everyone who is standing by Eddie– Max, Dustin, Will, and Mike– are all very aware that this was nothing more than a fake date for the wedding. Steve doesn’t need to kiss Eddie when no one is watching; He doesn’t need to kiss even when someone is watching.

Eddie stops trying to lift himself, eyes widening as Steve takes another step closer.

“You’d have to be on that branch to pull it off,” Steve says as he points at the branch about two feet above the one he’s currently on. “Unless I get on my knees.”

Everyone pretends they don’t hear the strangled noise that escapes Eddie.

“You’d get dirty, though. Those are nice pants,” Eddie says, still upside down, face bright red from embarrassment and blood rushing to his head.

“They are,” Steve agrees, laughing as he squats so he’s barely higher than Eddie’s face. “But I have to dry clean them anyway. Might as well get what I’m paying for.”

Steve places his hand on the back of Eddie’s neck and leans in, brushing their lips together softly. It’s awkward because Eddie’s upside down and Steve has no idea how they made it looks so hot in the movie, but-

“This is a turn of events I did not see coming!” Dustin’s new wife, Suzie, claps. “You were so right, Dusty Buns. They’re perfect for each other.”

Steve does what he does best and ignores them, focusing on Eddie, who looks unstable now.

“Do you need help getting down?” Steve asks.

Eddie nods, and Steve moves as quickly as he can to help get him upright so he can climb down. He’s surprised Dustin agreed to an outdoor wedding in the spring with his allergies, but Suzie insisted on having fresh flowers everywhere and would not accept store bought. He’s even more surprised that Eddie, who admitted to having seasonal allergies while they talked at dinner last night, is hanging in trees.

When Eddie’s back on the ground, Steve kisses him for real. A hard press to his lips, tongue brushing against him, teasing.

“Did you climb a tree for attention?” Steve asks him when he pulls away.

“It worked. I can’t be blamed for doing something drastic for you to kiss me.”

“You could’ve just kissed me,” Steve laughs.

Eddie does.

“Still fake? Or can we admit that there’s way more chemistry here than we expected there to be and kiss some more?” He asks.

“I regret doing this. I regret it so much,” Dustin groans as he walks away.

Steve rolls his eyes. “He doesn’t. He’s gonna go do his happy dance where we can’t see him.”

“He has a happy dance?” Eddie asks, smile growing as he leans into Steve’s side.

“Yeah, it’s embarrassing. Let’s go watch.”

[solxamber]

Giving Them Chocolates on Valentine's Day with: Scarabia

Go here for other dorms

Kalim Al-Asim

You barely get the chocolates into Kalim’s hands before he lets out the happiest gasp you’ve ever heard in your life.

“Whoa! For me?!” His eyes light up, shining with so much pure joy that you swear the room itself gets brighter. He holds the box like it’s a treasured artifact, handling it with both hands as if he’s afraid he might drop it.

“Yeah,” you say, grinning despite yourself. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

And now, he’s beaming. Like, so bright, so full of excitement, so overwhelmingly Kalim that you don’t even get the chance to process it before—

He’s spinning you.

He grabs your hands and twirls you around in pure celebration, laughing so brightly that you can’t help but laugh too, even as the sudden movement nearly makes you dizzy.

“You like me?!” he asks—even though the chocolates should’ve made that obvious, even though he’s already dancing with you like he just won the world’s biggest jackpot.

“Yes, Kalim, I like you!” you say, laughing as he twirls you one more time before pulling you close.

“This is the best day ever!” He’s grinning so big it’s ridiculous, so full of warmth and giddy excitement that it’s honestly contagious. “I like you too! So, so much!”

Your heart swells. “Yeah?”

“Yeah!” He laughs, squeezing your hands before suddenly clapping his own together, eyes sparkling. “We gotta celebrate! Oh, I know! I’ll throw a party—no, the biggest party! Fireworks, music, so much food—”

“Kalim—”

“—and everyone’s invited! Oh! Maybe we can get a whole parade going, and—”

“Kalim!” You grab his shoulders before he starts planning a nationwide festival. “It’s Valentine’s Day. You don’t have to throw a whole party.”

He blinks, processing this. Then, without missing a beat—

“But we’re dating now! That’s a huge deal! That calls for a party!”

You sigh. You should’ve expected this.

But the sheer delight on his face, the way he’s so effortlessly overjoyed about being with you, makes it impossible not to laugh again.

“…Fine,” you say, shaking your head fondly. “Go ahead and plan your party.”

Kalim cheers.

And before you know it, you’re pulled into another twirl, laughing as he spins you around again, his excitement sweeping you off your feet.

Jamil Viper

Jamil stares at the heart-shaped box in your hands like he genuinely can’t comprehend what’s happening. His usual sharp composure falters just enough to reveal something unmistakably surprised—maybe even a little vulnerable.

“…For me?” His voice is quieter than usual, hesitant in a way you don’t often hear from him.

You nod, shifting slightly under his gaze. “Yeah. I made them for you.”

He doesn’t take them right away. His dark eyes flicker to the chocolates, then back to you, like he’s waiting for some kind of catch. Like he needs confirmation that this isn’t some kind of misunderstanding.

And you get it. You do. Jamil isn’t the type to expect people to choose him.

Which is why you steel your nerves, swallow the last of your hesitation, and just say it.

“I like you,” you tell him, firm and certain. “That’s why I made them.”

That gets him.

Jamil’s breath catches. His fingers twitch at his sides. He looks at you with genuine surprise—not his usual exasperation, but something real.

“You’re sure?” he asks, almost cautious.

You exhale a quiet laugh. “Yeah, Jamil. I’m sure.”

He watches you for a moment longer—like he’s memorizing your expression, like he’s letting himself believe it. Then, with just a little hesitation, he reaches out and takes the chocolates from your hands, holding them carefully, like they mean something.

“…Thanks,” he murmurs, almost shyly. And then, before you can dwell on how ridiculously cute that is, he gently takes your hand.

The warmth of his fingers catches you off guard, but before you can react, he squeezes your hand just slightly, his usual confidence flickering back in place.

“You free tonight?” he asks, his voice soft but just a little teasing now.

You blink, caught off guard by the shift. “Uh, yeah?”

A small smirk tugs at his lips, but there’s no mistaking the way he flushes slightly. “Then come over for dinner,” he says, lightly brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “I’ll make something good.”

Your heart stutters. “You’re cooking for me?”

Jamil rolls his eyes, though his expression is far too fond to be annoyed. “I just said that, didn’t I?”

You grin. “Guess I should've confessed to you sooner, huh?”

Jamil scoffs, letting go of your hand—but you don’t miss the way his fingers linger.

“…Just don’t expect me to make dessert,” he mutters, but there’s no real bite to it. If anything, he looks quietly happy.

And honestly? So are you.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[neuronary]

#The Chase is them chasing him all over the Earth Kingdom#Azula meanwhile keeps getting thoughts about being the best and Earth Rumbles. only one of these is abnormal.#I'm sure that'll be fine#atla#avatar the last airbender#platonic brain polycule let's goooo#Zuko#Sokka#Aang#the gaang

I haven't touched a:tla in years but if there's one thing MuffinLance can do it's inspire me.

---

Azula keeps dreaming that she is blind.

It's strange, not least because when she dreams it it does not seem strange in the slightest, but it has alerted her to a weakness, and she cannot abide weaknesses.

The servants never question her (they are too afraid of her, which is meant to feel good but mostly feels twisty in the very depths of her stomach like if she thinks of Mai and Ty Lee for too long) so she is almost always left to her own devices. She knows they watch her, think her strange, as she wanders the palace halls, a blindfold over her face, tracing the walls until she has mapped every corner.

She'll know it better than the face in the mirror when she's finished. Better than her hands, which are her father's, and her hair, which is her mother's. This will be her's.

---

"Okay, what the fuck," Toph says, upon sitting up.

"Language," The Boulder says tiredly. "C'mon, I told you guys to watch it around her."

"Are you, alright, Bandit?" Headhunter asks. "This is the third time this week."

"I'm fine," Toph grumbles, because she is fine, she just keeps randomly falling asleep when she usually stays up way later and it's annoying more than anything.

"Maybe you should--" the Gecko begins. He is cut off by Toph hurling rocks at him.

---

It's good. Mai and Ty Lee are with her again and it's good. They're hers and she's finally got them back and that's good.

Azula ignores the little voice in her head that thinks that's sort of fucked up. That is decidedly not hers and therefore none of her concern.

---

Toph is pretty sure you can't own people. Or at least, if you do, it's very bad. That's not how having friends works. Except she finally has friends, for the first time in her whole life, and she's not totally sure it counts.

There's something... off. It's like she's always standing on the outside of their little circle. Like there's always something they're not telling her. Like the feeling of someone else shifting the earth beneath her feet before she wrenches it back from them.

She doesn't like it.

Maybe they're not her friends, because they're clearly not hers.

She throws more rocks at the Avatar and doesn't think about it.

---

When Azula dreams of her brother's faceless voice, it is not unusual; she doesn't know what he looks like anymore, although she can guess. When she dreams of him laughing, easily, surrounded by friends, it is unusual.

Mai and Ty Lee are there when she sleeps, sometimes uncontrollably. They both seem to understand that the world has changed for her, with the shifting of the ground and the sounds of the air singing far more than the visual cues she used to rely upon.

She can't trust anyone, she knows that. But if she could, she would trust them. Them, and the little voice in the back of her head that is definitely not hers.

---

Toph cannot see when she is awake and she cannot see when she dreams. That is what it means to be blind.

"What troubles you, young earthbender?" Uncle asks. Everyone just calls him 'Uncle' even though he's only Zuko's and nobody bothered telling her his name. Well. She's not going to ask.

Toph cannot see when she dreams her own dreams but sometimes. Sometimes she dreams of calligraphy brushes and play scrolls and classrooms and somehow she recognises them.

(Sometimes, she dreams of a long platform and two figures and flames and sometimes she is frozen and sometimes she screams and screams until everything is blue.) (She shouldn't even know what blue is.)

"Nothing," Toph says, flicking her foot and sending a rock the size of Uncle's stomach flying.

"What the hell, Toph?" the others all demand in perfect unison.

"Nothing," she repeats, soundless underneath their shared laughter.

Uncle's heartbeat thumps worried.

Toph ignores him.

---

"You can go home," Azula says after waking, feeling sick at herself and shaky. She cannot abide weakness. "You can go home, if you want. I'm not keeping you here."

"Why would I want to do that?" Mai drawls, picking underneath her nails with one of her knives.

Ty Lee smiles sympathetically. "Are you having nightmares?" The 'again' is silent.

"No," Azula lies, because one truth is one too many and she cannot abide weakness.

"We're not going home," Ty Lee agrees after a moment. "Where would be the fun in that?"

Azula should simply nod, accepting their loyalty, act as though it was a test. She feels sand in her throat at the thought. "Good," she says, half her voice, half another.

"Go back to sleep, you two," Mai grumbles, "or do you want to take my watch?"

When Azula dreams, she dreams of their days at the Royal Academy, before things were complicated and the worst part of her life was her mother's complaints. She dreams of Mai and Ty Lee and a girl in green who smiles as wide as Ty Lee and laughs twice as loud.

---

These people are nothing to you, it occurs to Toph as Aang shouts at her, like it's her fault they all left her to guard everything, like they didn't all leave her outside the library just like they leave her on the outside of everything else. Her hands are almost shaking with the rage that builds up in her, half hers, half another's, but all there, tight in her chest.

"How could you abandon him?" Aang cries.

The snap is more mental than audible.

"How could I do anything else?" Toph screams back. "How am I supposed to know what to do when none of you tell me anything?! Would you rather I let all of the rest of you get buried in that stupid library? Would that have just been a convenient way to get rid of me? Don't think I can't tell that you all hide things from me! What, is it some kind of signal the stupid little blind girl can't see? Well, this little blind girl saved all of your lives, so maybe you should be a little grateful! Maybe I shouldn't even bother with any of you!"

She hates them, all of them, with their stupid inside jokes, and their stupid expectations, and their stupid secret language she can't see.

They're all idiots, clearly. They hang around with Zuzu.

They apologise, after a while, because she's right, and they promise they didn't mean to exclude her.

"It's just that we've all got this spooky spirit psychic link," Sokka explains, a few days later. "We can kind of hear each others' thoughts and see each others' dreams. It's weird."

They can see each others' dreams. Huh.

"Huh," Toph says.

---

Azula dreams of the Fire Lord condemning her failure. She dreams of flames. She dreams of watching Zuko burn and being Zuko burning and of screaming. It's a familiar scene, up until it isn't.

Suddenly, as she dreams of being Zuko, burning because she failed, she dreams instead of the earth bursting forth to crush the Fire Lord. She dreams of him vanishing down, deep underground. She dreams of walls of earth and mud and stone rising between them, of flames bouncing helplessly off rocks.

She dreams of great beasts that make the earth rumble and feel more like home than the palace ever did.

When she wakes up, Mai and Ty Lee are watching her with a frown.

No matter how strange her dreams become, Azula knows reality. She has no choice.

"We're going to get into Ba Sing Se," she says, "and we're going to kill the Avatar."

---

Ba Sing Se is awful, just like Toph thought it would be. Everybody is still keeping things from her, and it hurts regardless of whether or not they mean it.

She's been having nightmares, too. Or, rather, the girl whos dreams she's seeing is having nightmares, and Toph can't seem to help all that much. She wishes she could do more, could save the girl's brother, but the fear paralyses her almost as badly as it paralyses her dreammate. It's all she can do to protect this girl, this firebender who is deathly afraid of the Fire Lord.

"Toph?" says Sokka. "We're going out to put up the Appa posters. Don't forget to bring a snack."

Toph grabs at the fruit bowl and comes away with an orange. She scowls and shoves it in her pocket; she's never been able to peel oranges properly. It's still in her pocket when she is captured.

---

They won't bother to rescue me, comes the thought, bitter and resigned and very much not her's.

They'll take too long to even notice that I'm gone.

Azula pauses her planning. It's taken some time to understand, but she's fairly certain that the voice in her head, the girl in green from her dreams, and the earthbender guarding her nightmares are one and the same. This is just the last piece of the puzzle.

"Mai," she says quietly, considering. "Ty Lee. Would you leave me for a moment? I need to meditate."

They share a look, concerned, that makes her fond in a way she wouldn't have been before this, but they leave.

---

These people are nothing, the other girl in Toph's head reassures her through her panic. What people say is impossible is nothing for people like us.

She breathes. In, and out, like the badgermoles taught her (like her father taught her).

Toph stands up and feels for the earth, for the parts of it that remain, no matter what is done to it.

Toph breathes, and stands up, and bends metal.

Anything is possible.

---

Azula watches the earthbender listen to the Avatar's sky bison leave, the beating of its limbs through the air above them roaring like a great flame.

Uncle Iroh twists to look at her, already trapped by the Dai Li. "Toph," he says, warningly, and the tone reminds Azula of every time he scolded her for retaliating against Zuko, every time he sided with her mother, every time he told her that's not a lady's way. In any case, the earthbender ignores him and turns to trudge towards them, shoving a hand into her pocket as she goes.

When she stops in front of Azula, she's holding out an orange.

"I think this is for you," the earthbender says.

You're mine, she thinks. You're mine to protect, like I'm yours, aren't I?

Azula takes the orange. "Yes," she says. "Yes, I think you're right."

Some spirit manages to get the gaang and zuko a link that connects their minds. They can share thoughts and their past with each other.

Tweaking this to “and they share dreams” because that’s how I started writing it.

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, wrapping his sleeping bag around himself, and grabbing a comfort Momo, too. “Who’s dream was that?”

No one ‘fesses up. But it was kind of a rude question, and also a little rhetorical, anyway.

They all have nightmares with fire.

Having the Fire Lord himself looming over them, while they were on their knees? Not exactly a stretch.

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, “how does Prince Jerkface keep finding us?”

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, “how did he know that seal jerky seasoned just right with honey—not too much, just enough to add a sparkle of sweetness to the depths of savoriness, a perfect balance for the distinguished tongue to relish—was the perfect bait for his Sokka and Sokka-affliated-parties trap?”

“Maybe if you stop dreaming about it, Sokka,” Katara snaps.

...And they all stop.

---

“I’m going to think really really hard about being friends,” Aang says.

“I’m going to think really really hard about that time my boomerang hit him,” says Sokka.

---

Snatching the boomerang out of midair? Impressive.

Ignoring the Avatar to go hit Sokka with it? Repeatedly? Uncalled for.

---

“Sokka. The city is under attack. Right now.”

“Okay,” Sokka says. “But this is a strategic nap, Katara. We need to know what evil things our Evil Other is up to.”

It’s not like the evil fleet part was a surprise, at least. They’ve been dreaming of it for weeks.

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, looking down. “So the ship-blowing-up-thing. Not a nightmare?”

“No,” says Zuko, glaring up with his glare-face all glare-ful but his thoughts mostly full of bruises so deep they’re making Sokka’s ribs ache, and also his legs are going numb.

“Going to get out of the turtle-seal tunnel now?” Sokka asks, still standing over the opening. With his boomerang.

“...No,” the Prince of the Fire Nation says, as he clings onto the edge of the hole, his legs still very much in freezing water.

---

“Okay,” Sokka says, when they have a Fire Prince all tied up in Blankets of Imprisonment. “So. What actually was your plan here? Do not,” he interrupts, before the teenage-shaped bloodhound-leech can do more than open his mouth, “say ‘capture the Avatar.’”

The prince closes his mouth. Glares. And kind of fuzzes at the edges, in the way all of them do when they’re about to fall asleep.

BOOMERANG, Sokka thinks, and Prince Largely Ineffective As An Enemy jerks back upright. His Momo hat chitters a complaint.

“Since we both know your answer is ‘I had no plan, Sokka, ‘plan’ starts with ‘p’ and there’s no ‘p’ in ‘Avatar’’, we’re going to play a game instead. It’s called ‘sleepy prince free association interrogation time.’”

“...What?”

“Battle plans,” Sokka says. “Attack. Fire Navy fleet. Ship numbers.”

Alas, “Fire Nation intelligence” is not something with which the prince’s brain is overly burdened.

“...Are you insulting me?”

“Are you proving my point?”

Elsewhere, Yue laughs in all their heads. Zuko flinches. The prince has a very marked reaction to the laughter of princesses.

---

“Okay,” says Sokka. “So that just happened.”

Commander Mutton Chops is groaning. Kind of flopping. Much like the bag he tried to fireball. Yue picks it up, and gently wrangles a fish back into water. Sokka is still not clear on what the fish-napping was about.

“It’s the Moon,” Aang says. “Or maybe the Ocean?”

Aang’s thoughts are full of a FACE STEALING EVIL CENTIPEDE MONSTER THAT IS JUST ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE THIN VEIL OF REALITY and that is NOT helping Sokka think.

“Okay,” he says again. “So. At least we can all agree on one thing.”

This is a very diplomatic way of saying they all wanted to dropkick Zhao. But some of them wanted to do it more than others.

The prince of the Fire Nation is even paler than normal, and staring across the clearing at his uncle.

“I can explain,” the prince says, while he’s thinking, oh shit treason oh crap uncle wouldn’t hurt me thought that about father too

Sokka wordlessly plucks Momo from the edge of the pond, where he’s been swiping at the spirit-fish, and drops him on the prince’s head.

Everyone needs a comfort Momo, now and again.

---

“A raft, Zuko?” Sokka says. Outloud. Because it makes things louder when you say it and think it. “A raft?”

Aang is bouncing on his toes. “We should go get him.”

The Avatar is grinning. And thinking, really hard and deliberately, as behind them the Water Tribe ship finishes packing, We should capture the Fire Prince,

“Okay,” Sokka says, with a grin.

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Dolly V

~ part 5 of the Dolly series

pairing: yang jeongin x afab!reader

genre: smut, fluff, sci-fi

synopsis: always used to getting everything you want and spending as much money as you can; after a little night out with your girlfriends, in your drunken state you order an expensive sex doll. he likes to dress up, just like you do. what could go wrong?

wc: 8.5k

warnings: oral (m), masturbation, self-denial, self-ruined orgasm, cum eating, slight pain kink, sub!reader, reader is a little bratty, unprotected sex, creampies, a bit of degradation, choking, light bondage, spanking, edging, slapping

~ divider by @bunnysrph

With all the alcohol in your system, the loud music booming from the speakers and the warmth of the body dancing behind you, you celebrated, swaying your hips and grinding back into the nameless man who gripped your sides harder.

It was just another regular Saturday night for you; putting on an expensive dress and jewelry, doing your makeup, spending your evenings in fine restaurants with your girlfriends and your nights in prestigious clubs with all kinds of hot men you'd lead on and then leave.

You didn't have a care in the world. Anything you wanted, you got at the snap of your fingers, your father made sure of that, spoiling you rotten since you were his only daughter. You knew he had a soft spot for you and you weren't afraid to use that to your advantage.

"You wanna go somewhere more quiet?" the man whispered in your ear and you turned around, feigning disappointment and putting your sweet voice on.

"I'm sorry darlin', but I have to go now. It's been a pleasure dancing with you, though." you gave him a quick peck on the lips, just enough for him to taste your cherry lipgloss for a split second.

Before he could even answer, you slid away, disappearing from his eyesight between all the dancing bodies as you looked for your friends.

"Are you leaving, y/n?" you found Crystal by the bar. "The night is still young."

"I already texted Benjamin. He's on his way here." you giggled, swaying a little and she chuckled, grabbing your wrist, her manicured nails grazing your skin.

"Girlie, are you drunk?" she laughed.

"Just a little." you laughed with her, usually you weren't a lightweight, in fact you were the one carrying Crystal outside and holding her hair while she throws up. "I mixed up a few different drinks."

"Want me to wait out there with you?" she asked and you shook your head, making the room spin a little.

"Benji already arrived." you said but she still insisted on walking you to the car.

A sleek black limo waited for you, your family driver Benjamin rolled the window down before stepping out with a knowing smirk.

"You okay, miss?" he asked, opening the door for you.

"Perfect." you said, even though the fresh air made you even more dizzy than the stuffy club.

He shrugged as you plopped down in the seat, waving to Crystal who decided to stay a bit more with two of your other friends. Your stomach was churning a little as the vehicle started moving but Benjamin didn't bug you about it. He knew how you were, everyone did except your father who turned a blind eye to anything 'bad' you did. You are his perfect little angel who can do no wrong, so your driver bit his tongue more often than not.

You were home in no time, escorted right to the door. It was pretty late so the house was dark and quiet as you made your way upstairs, bumping into furniture and tripping over stairs, cursing quietly. Your room was huge, a queen sized bed with a canopy above it and a spacious walk in closet, your own bathroom and balcony where you'd often lay down and tan when it's sunny.

You kicked your heels off and walked to your big mirror, checking yourself out. You didn't look drunk though the room was still spinning just a little. You realized your phone turned off so you walked over to your desk and turned your laptop on, checking out who saw your insta stories from the fun night out. You left it open as you took it to your vanity, sitting down and taking off your diamond earrings.

The stories kept rolling and an ad came on between them right as you looked at the screen.

"What? Sex dolls?" you chuckled. Feeling intrigued, you clicked on it. It took you to a site with eight human looking dolls, all of them a 10 in your eyes. "I want them all." you whined, noticing some of them were already sold.

"Not fair." you pouted as you scrolled, stopping when you got to 'Jeongin, the fashion doll'.

"Oooh, fashion huh? I like you." you giggled, clicking on the purchase button without even looking at the price. After putting your info in, a message popped up. 'Thank you for purchasing our fashion doll! We hope you have fun dressing him up!', with a little winky face emoji added at the end.

You chuckled, closing your laptop and forgetting all about it as you got ready for bed and fell face down into your soft pillows, drifting off immediately.

Exactly a week later, when you got home after your beauty day which included a trip to the spa, a manicure and pedicure and of course some shopping, you almost jumped out of your skin, tripping over a huge box in your room.

"What the fuck is this?!" you gasped, and immediately your security guard, Jack, ran in, his hand already on the holster.

"What's wrong, miss?" he looked around before noticing the huge box and another suitcase next to it.

"It had your name on it. Benjamin and I brought it up together, I-I thought you had ordered something like- like always." he said cautiously.

Something rang in your mind.

"Oh. I did. You can leave now." you said, your face heating up. The man nodded shortly before retreating back outside.

You slammed and locked the door, letting out a breath of relief. You completely forgot about ordering a literal human sized doll. And now here he was, in the box. At least you hoped he was in the box, not in the suitcase because you did not want to spend your afternoon putting doll parts together, in your head it was too morbid and too much work.

You put your bags on the floor before cautiously walking over to the box. Taking a deep breath in, you opened it up and gasped. Your doll was even more handsome than what you vaguely remembered from that night.

Hello,

my name is Jeongin (or Innie) and I am your fashion dolly.

I love to dress up and take pictures, especially with you. I like seeing new places and doing new things so I hope you'll take me out on lots of dates.

Please treat me well always, even though I seem cool I can be sensitive so don't forget to hold my hand.

Hope you'll come to love me as much as I love you.

Obviously, someone put a lot of thought into this doll, you noted after reading the letter and looking more closely at his face. His eyes seemed warm and it looked like he was smiling just a little, a shy dimple on his cheek. He looked so cute. You checked out his outfit, satisfied with what they put him in and you noticed another little paper in his jeans pocket. You took it out and read it.

My princess!

I chose this outfit for our first adventure together.

Hope you enjoy me as much as I will enjoy you.

Princess. How fitting, you thought as you giggled.

You turned your attention to the suitcase, deciding to open it up before doing anything else. When you did, a gasp left your lips. It was filled with clothes and jewelry for the doll.

"I could make myself a dress out of this." you picked up one of the shirts, inspecting it. The clothes smelled like fresh fabric softener and they felt pretty expensive. You turned to look at the doll again. How much did you even pay for him?

You didn't care. All you cared about was taking the doll out of the box but that proved to be a bigger task than you first thought. You tried picking him up but since you weren't keen on working out, it was impossible to move him.

You groaned and grunted, your heels almost sliding on the polished wood as you pulled your Jeongin dolly by the wrists. That was the last trick you had up your sleeve.

"For fucks sake! I can't even move you properly. I don't know how much money I spent on you but you better wake up and move by yourself 'cause I'm not breaking my nails!" you stomped your foot in annoyance but the dolly stayed still.

"Do you have a button somewhere?" you started rummaging on his body, it felt like he was heating up the more you touched him. You retracted your hands and studied his face for a moment.

"Ugh." you unlocked and opened your door, finding Jack in the hallway. "Can you come help me?" you batted your eyelashes sweetly.

"Sure thing, miss." Jack nodded and followed you to your room. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Jeongin, but then he sighed, probably not even surprised by the things rich people spend money on.

"Is that alive?" he asked and you barked out a laugh.

"I don't think so. Look, I need you to move him to that chair." you pointed to your gaming chair. Since it had wheels, your thought process was that it'd be easier to roll around the doll than to carry it.

"Okay." the security guard nodded and lifted Jeongin up as if he weighed nothing. He placed him where you ordered. "Anything else, miss?"

"Get that box out of my room, I hate trash." you said, completely skipping that the manual for the doll was inside the box.

After Jack left, you locked the door again.

"Now, it's just you and me, dolly." you said, taking your heels off before you stalked towards Jeongin. Your palms rested on the chair as you leaned in closer, observing the doll. He smelled so good, so intoxicating. Your nose brushed against his cheek before you leaned back.

"Well let's see what I paid for." you nodded to yourself, stripping the doll out of his jacket with a bit of a struggle.

"Motherfucker." you cursed, throwing the jacket behind you. "If I could just find a button and turn you on, you'd do this by yourself." you frowned, gripping his shirt and struggling again.

Briefly, you thought about calling Jack back in but you quickly dismissed it, thinking how weird it would be to ask your security guard to strip your sex doll naked. Suddenly, you had another thought.

Isn't there supposed to be a manual?

The box. The stupid box. You quickly ran out of your room, looking for Jack and finding him downstairs.

"Where's the box?" you asked breathlessly.

"Box?"

"Yes, the one I told you to throw out."

"Ah, it's in the trash."

Your eyes narrowed. Jack gulped. His palms got clammy.

A minute later, Jack became a victim as he dug through the dumpster to find the manual.

"Found it yet?" you yelled at his body, half submerged in trash.

"Almost there." he gagged a little and you made a disgusted face as he finally pulled it out.

"Found it." the poor security guard looked defeated, probably repeating the amount of money he'll be paid by the beginning of next month.

"Great. You're a champ." you sprayed a little bit of disinfectant before pinching the manual between your fingers and looking through it. You skimmed quickly, frowning when you found nothing about a button that makes the doll come to life.

"Well, this sucks." you sighed, tossing the manual back into the dumpster as Jack rolled his hands into fists. 'Paycheck is coming soon. Paycheck is coming soon.', Jack chanted in his mind.

You were already back to Jeongin, deciding to just strip him completely and then think of what to do next. His shoes and socks came off quicker than the previous garments, his pants gave you another struggle but you managed to take them off somehow. Your face heated up when you noticed the bulge in his boxers.

Even though you kissed a lot of men, you never went further with them. You liked to tease and feel like you were the one who has the upperhand, when in reality you just needed someone who knew how to take care of your needs. None of the men you met gave you the impression they could handle you. Your ex boyfriend thought he could but he was way in over his head so you dumped him and moved on.

Taking a deep breath in, you finally took the last piece of clothing off.

"Oh." your Innie dolly is hung. "Well, that was definitely worth paying for." you snickered.

Your face started heating up the more you stared at it, biting on your lip and debating if you should just touch him.

"Miss y/n! Lunch is ready!" you heard the housekeeper yell.

"Coming!" you yelled back, grabbing a blanket and throwing it over Jeongin's naked body. You slipped your dress off before grabbing a more comfortable shirt and shorts, all under the watchful eye of the doll. You didn't mind that he was there because he is just a thing. And things can't come to life, can they?

You shrugged and went downstairs to eat lunch with your father.

"How was your outing, sweetheart?" he asked as the two of you ate, the sounds of utensils clattering and scraping against the plates was like a cacophony disturbing the peaceful classical music in the background.

You briefly glanced at the empty chair your mother used to occupy.

"It was fun. How was work?"

"As usual." his tone was flat. "You need to come in tomorrow, at least for four or five hours."

Right. You were an intern at your father's company, more so you were learning from him so you could take over the empire one day. It bored you to death to sit in an office full of people with sullen faces and serious suits, flipping papers and typing on the computer. You hated it but you had no other choice since you're an only child, everything naturally belongs to you.

You didn't say anything, just glanced towards the empty chair again.

-

When you got back to your room, you almost shrieked but quickly covered your mouth so you don't alarm Jack. You definitely didn't want him to come in and see this.

You turned the key in the door, checking twice if it was locked properly as your heart started beating fast. You turned to look at your dolly in disbelief. The blanket you had carefully covered him up with was on the floor, pooling by his feet. But what captured your attention was his cock, hard and red, standing proudly and taunting you. Your mouth opened and closed a few times.

Why did the dolly get aroused all by itself? You gulped as you observed him but his chest wasn't moving, in fact he looked kind of like a statue. A beautiful, perfect greek statue.

Your legs pressed together. The sight of his leaking cock made your insides stir. But at the same time, it felt weird. You tried to rationalize it in your head, he is a doll, he's not alive and he was made to be used and maybe it just got hard on its own sometimes. Hell, you didn't really know or care about the technology behind it.

All you knew is that something pulled you to him. So you slowly made your way towards Jeongin, hesitating just for another moment before you gently placed your hand on his thigh. Fingertips brushed his soft skin and you gasped at how warm he felt. You slowly slid your hand up towards his core, wrapping your fingers around his throbbing member and dipping your thumb into his slit experimentally.

An overwhelming thought of tasting him crossed your mind. So you slipped your thumb into your mouth, licking at the pre-cum that you had gathered on it. A muffled moan escaped your lips, he tasted so sweet that you couldn't believe it.

You slid down to your knees, nails digging into his thighs a little before you adjusted his legs so you can move comfortably between them. You didn't even do this for your ex, only once and it wasn't too fun. But you were so curious, and the doll was here, yours. And you had the upperhand.

Your tongue caught a drop of pre-cum as you stuck it to the underside of his tip before you started swirling all around it. Your eyes fluttered as you lightly sucked on the head, milking the pre-cum out of it and swallowing the sweet taste, something akin to vanilla. Your senses heightened as you sucked lazily, sliding down on him just a little more, your hand wrapped around his base and the other pushing your shorts down.

You had on your lacy underwear that barely concealed anything and it was already damp with your arousal. You slid the pads of your fingertips over your clit down to your wetness before coming back up to your sensitive nub. You didn't move your underwear in favor of teasing yourself. You loved it so much, the torture of it, the denial of it as you slowly circled your clit teasingly.

A whimper left your lips as your fingertips grazed against Jeongin's balls, your mouth sliding down further while you drooled around his cock. He twitched inside you so you cupped his balls, massaging them while you kept sucking on him faster, making yourself gag when his fat tip hit the back of your throat.

Your pussy was throbbing and clenching as you ran your fingers over your clit and folds haphazardly, only making yourself more wet and keeping yourself on the edge. You needed more, your hips grinding against your hand desperately as you moaned around Jeongin's cock. You wondered how long it will take for the doll to cum, noting that you read something about his balls being extra sensitive in the manual. But you were too embarrassed to read that in front of Jack even though he wasn't even looking at the manual, in his mind he was in Hawaii with his wife, and not rummaging through a dumpster of a stuck up rich girl.

This is not the time to think about your security guard, not when you're choking on Jeongin's cock. You focused on the dark on hand, squeezing his balls more as you sucked harder, your eyes fluttering shut as you pressed on your clit.

Suddenly, he twitched when you gripped him harder, your pussy clenching almost painfully as you were close to release. Your eyes opened up and you looked at him, his beauty, and you moaned around his length before you felt spurts of hot cum hit the back of your throat.

You choked a little, almost cumming yourself but you pressed your fingers on your folds, pushing the lacy fabric inside your wetness as you swallowed Jeongin's cum. You suckled until you were sure he was empty, sliding off of his now limp cock. You slumped against his thigh, puffing and panting as you enjoyed the feeling of ruining your own orgasm, your pussy swollen and wet, begging to be touched but you ignored it, instead you left kisses on Jeongin's soft thighs.

You got up when your breathing got even, grabbing the blanket and covering him up again, your hand tucking away a few strands of his hair and squeezing his hand.

"Sleep well, my pretty doll."

It was fun, having a human sized doll in your room. The last few days, whenever you weren't at your father's office or out, you'd play with Jeongin.

Dressing him up was a tedious task but still you wanted to try out all the pretty outfits they had sent together with the doll. One of the outfits added in a crop top, his toned muscles on display for you to touch. You smirked, getting an idea and running on your tippy toes to your walk-in closet.

Earlier, you had called in Jack to put Jeongin on your bed which the security guard did, without asking any questions but you could see him rolling his eyes. You didn't care though, you were home alone (except for the staff) and you wanted to have a good time before going out later.

You had put some music on, turning the volume all the way up as Madonna's Material Girl started playing, the speakers booming loudly in the big house, making Jack sigh in annoyance. Paying off debts, he thought. Just a bit more, he nodded to himself.

Inside your room, your mood went up as you sang along, you were a pretty good singer and usually the star of karaoke night so it was enjoyable to listen to you. You started moving along to the music as you rummaged through your clothes, the led lights installed in the shelves illuminated all the pretty colors and shiny glitter of your expensive collection. Your doll's eyes lit up but you were too busy looking at yourself in the mirror, trying to pick out the perfect dress for tonight.

One of them caught your eye the most; it was a brand new dress you haven't had the chance to take out yet, black with pretty glitter patterns and slits strategically placed to show skin on your cleavage and then also on your sides. You shrugged and stepped out of your pjs to put on the dress, deciding not to wear a bra under it.

"Damn." you spun around in the mirror with a smirk. "What do you think, Innie?" you asked your dolly as you made your way towards him. He looked as if he was blushing, his cute cheeks rosy.

"I think you like it." you giggled, covering your lips.

You kept dancing and swaying your hips, singing along as Jeongin's eyes followed you, it was almost unnoticeable as they moved ever so slowly.

You sat down in front of your mirror to put some make up on and in the reflection, you thought you saw Jeongin's head move a little. Quickly, you turned to look at him with a gasp but he was quiet and still. You felt a shiver run down your spine, an unnerving feeling appearing in your stomach.

"I'm crazy." you chuckled and turned back to your mirror so you could continue getting ready, glancing at your dolly every so often.

After you were done, you decided to take a fun little picture. Smirking, you grabbed your phone and made your way to your bed. You sat down next to Jeongin, making yourself comfortable as you put one leg over him, your dress riding up and exposing your thigh. You put his arm around you, making it look like he was holding you and then put your arm around his shoulders. You took a few selfies before choosing your favorite and then you posted it on insta with the caption 'bf'.

It didn't take long for the comments to start flooding in, he looked like a real person in the picture. You laughed in delight as you sat between your dollies legs and read all the reactions. Your closest friends knew you were just messing around as you have told them about purchasing the doll but other naive acquaintances really thought Jeongin was your boyfriend, a living human being.

You finally got up after some time and when you looked at your pretty dolly, you noticed a prominent bulge in his pants.

"You like my dress so much?" you giggled, shaking your head. You still had some time before your friends arrived to pick you up.

"Now, what do I do with you?" you sighed, wishing he was alive so he could take care of you properly, do all the things you fantasize about and touch yourself to. You wished he'd take control over you, treat you like you were the doll and not him.

You had no choice though so you decided to make the best of it and slowly slid his pants down. You didn't bother putting any underwear on him earlier so his cock sprung out, slapping against his abs deliciously. With a quiet giggle, you pushed your panties aside and hovered over him. He was already oozing pre-cum and you gathered it on your fingers, bringing them to your clit.

A moan left your lips as you smeared the liquid on your pussy, getting yourself wet and even more turned on. Your other hand roamed on his abs, down to his cock as you played with it. Wrapping your fingers around him, you scooted closer and ran his tip on your throbbing core.

"Mm. You're so big." you whimpered as you pushed his tip between your slick folds slowly, your tight pussy barely taking him in. You closed your eyes, fantasizing about Jeongin tying you up and pushing it in all in one go to make you take it, use you just for his pleasure and you whimpered, spreading your pussy with your hands and forcing yourself down on his length. You gasped, struggling and tearing up as you took all of him in, taking a moment to adjust.

You gripped at his shoulders and slowly started fucking on him. Your quiet whimpers filled up the space along with the slick sounds of your wet pussy as you clenched around him. Jeongin's cock twitched and throbbed inside you and you dug your nails into him, moving faster. The pain you felt melted into pleasure the more you took him in and the harder you slapped your hips on his.

You felt so close, your orgasm building up and right before you reached that high you slid off of him, stopping yourself and plopping down into his chest as you breathed hard. Clutching at his arms, you buried your face in Jeongin's neck and started kissing his soft skin.

"Come to life, please." you whined as you dragged your sensitive pussy over his hard length. His tip slipped in and you pushed down, taking him in again and moving on top of him. You angled your hips right on accident, a moan ripping out of you as his tip pressed right into your sweet spot. You whined loudly as you fucked on him desperately, chasing that feeling again and again.

On the brink of your high, you had stopped again, clenching around him.

"Fuck." you gasped as you phone started ringing.

You reached for it blindly as you held onto Jeongin.

"Hello?"

"Girl, we're here." it was Crystal and you groaned on accident.

"Having fun with your boyfriend?" she snickered, and you could hear your friends chuckling along in the background.

"Always." you smirked, still a little breathless. "I'll be down in a sec." you added and hung up before she could answer.

You weren't gonna be down in a second and they knew it. You didn't care though, you wanted Jeongin to cum. So you slid off of him and grabbed his cock with one hand and put the other on his sensitive balls. You jerked him off skilfully, twisting your hand at the top and massaging his balls, pulling on them just a little. When you felt him twitch you quickly buried his tip into your pussy, feeling him cum inside you and against your warmth as it slipped out, making a mess.

"Ugh, sorry." you whispered to no one in particular as you brought your fingers down and pushed his cum back inside, pulling your panties over your core. You licked the rest off your fingers before quickly cleaning Jeongin up and covering his lower region with your blanket.

"I'll be back, pretty dolly." you squeezed and kissed his hand with a smirk.

-

Though you were tipsy and there was a hot man grinding on you, you couldn't stop thinking about your dolly. God, were you horny.

You imagined that the guy behind you was Jeongin so you let him grope your ass. You didn't mind as he held you against him possessively, you just wished it was your dolly. Your beautiful dolly.

You leaned your head back on the man's shoulder as you closed your eyes and bit on your lip. He took that as an invitation, his lips brushing against your neck before he left kisses on your heated skin. In the darkness, no one saw or cared when he put his hand under your dress and touched your wet cunt. You never went so far with a random man but something about imagining it being your doll made you relax when he pushed his fingers inside you. You felt so dirty, letting a stranger finger you in a club, when you had no idea what his name was or even looked at his face long enough to remember what he looked like. But in your mind he was Jeongin and that was enough.

As always, before you could cum, a kind of clarity washed over you and you tore away from the man abruptly, startling him a little.

"You okay? Did I hurt you?" he seemed concerned and sweet.

"Fine. I just have to go. Sorry, love." you gave him a smile and a peck before running off.

You felt diabolical.

And it felt so good.

It became a routine. Dressing Jeongin up, stripping him down and playing with him. It's been one month since your dolly arrived, observing your daily movements as you went out often, coming back either tipsy or with a new manicure and shopping bags.

Saturdays were reserved for parties as always but lately they excited you less and less. Even the new clothes you bought felt somewhat disappointing. You couldn't pinpoint what exactly was making you feel so disgruntled, until you realized you were thinking about Jeongin all the time.

You wondered how his voice would sound, his laugh. How it would feel when he hugged you. How his lips would move against yours. How he'd make love to you. Were you falling in love with a doll?

You wished he was human. It angered you that he wasn't so one day, you picked him up, accidentally knocking his arm against your nightstand.

"Sorry." you muttered as your eyes teared up. He was too heavy. You dropped him on the floor on accident, a loud thud echoing off of the walls.

"Sorry, I'm sorry!" you panicked. Why are you apologizing, it's a thing - you thought to yourself.

You had no other choice but to grip his wrists and pull him towards your closet where you left him in a corner, like any other toy you got sick of playing with.

It's time to find a real man.

-

Darkness. Jeongin took a desperate breath as he clawed at his throat. No matter how many times he blinked, all he saw was darkness. In a state of panic he crawled on the floor, his hands touching the soft carpet underneath him, searching for any kind of switch, any source of light.

"Ow." Jeongin muttered when his head collided with something sturdy.

He touched around it and realized it was a shelf with clothes, the fabrics expensive and soft as he ran his fingertips on them. They all smelled like you.

Why have you left him? Why don't you want to play with him anymore? He thought you liked him. At least it seemed so ever since the day you got him. Finally his hand found a switch and when it turned on, he was almost blinded by all the shine and colors.

You left him in your closet. Jeongin stood up on wobbly legs and opened the door that lead to your room. He saw a water bottle on your vanity and quickly grabbed it, chugging all of it down. He knew where you kept a stash of snacks, next to your bed in a shelf, so he sat on the mattress and ate everything you had. His stomach still growled, he was starving.

When are you coming back?, Jeongin thought.

-

Two weeks had passed since you left Jeongin in your closet, and even though he wasn't even real, no other man excited you like he did. You wondered how that was possible since he was just a doll, an object.

Maybe you were crazy, who knows?

Shaking your thoughts off, you walked into your room, darkness enveloping all your favorite things. But before you could reach for the switch an arm wrapped around your middle, a hand pressed against your lips as you tried to scream.

You kicked your legs as your eyes widened in fear.

"It's me, Jeongin. Your dolly. It's okay, don't be afraid." you heard a sweet voice in your ear and you frowned, repeating his name but it was muffled behind his hand.

"Please don't scream or hit me." he said and you nodded as he let you go and flipped the switch on at the same time. You turned around and backed away, a gasp escaping your lips as he stood in front of you.

"W-what? Am I- Is this a hallucination?" you blinked.

"No, I'm here."

"How is that possible?" your lips trembled.

"I - I could hear you, see you and feel you the entire time. I answered in my head and willed myself to talk but I couldn't, not without breaking out of my state." he explained and you stared at him for a moment.

Tears of frustration built up in your eyes and you slapped your hand on his chest.

"Why did it take you so long? Why? Why?" you cried as you kept hitting him and Jeongin grabbed your wrists, pulling you closer.

You went quiet immediately as he looked at you.

"I'm here now."

"You're real." you smiled after a moment.

"I'm real." he whispered with a smile, his dimple making an appearance and making you melt against him.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked and you nodded slowly.

Jeongin leaned in and pressed his lips sweetly on yours.

He tasted so good. Jeongin. Your Jeongin. Your dolly was alive.

You threw your arms around him, holding him tightly and he returned the hug, gripping you and pushing you up against his warm body.

You stayed like that for a moment, Jeongin reveling in the fact that he can finally hold you, touch you, feel you like he wanted to. And you were estatic that your wish came true.

"You remember everything I said or did?" you gulped as you face burned.

"Yeah." he smirked and you whined, burying your face in his neck. "It's okay, princess. I'll take care of you." he whispered with a kiss to your head.

"You will?" you looked up at him and he nodded.

"But first, I really need to eat a proper meal. I - um ate all your snacks." he grimaced and you gasped, smacking his arm.

"My stash is gone! Ugh, fine, I'll ask Donna to cook something for us." you grabbed his wrist, dragging him towards the door.

"Wait! What about your dad?" Jeongin asked.

"He's on a business trip anyways. I don't have to explain anything to him." you shrugged and led him downstairs.

Jack's eyes widened when he saw the doll that came in a box alive and he was alarmed instantly but you were quick to dismiss him. Donna didn't ask any questions, just prepared a tasty meal for the two of you.

"So, do you remember anything from before you got here?" you asked.

Jeongin pursed his lips and furrowed his brows, staring into the bowl of rice before him.

"I can't... I can't remember." his frown deepened.

"Nothing?"

"Not a thing." he shook his head.

"You don't remember the other dolls?"

"No." Jeongin shook his head again.

You grabbed your phone and pulled up the site, showing him the rest of the collection.

"I have no recollection of them." he said in a frustrated tone, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. "I've never seen them in my life."

"That's strange." you shrugged. "Are you sure you don't remember anything?"

"No and honestly," he paused. "I don't know if I want to remember. All I want is to be with you."

You smiled, putting your phone aside and cradling his cheek in your palm.

"Me too."

-

After the delicious dinner, you led Jeongin back up to your room. It was him who locked the door this time as you approached your vanity to take your jewelry off.

"I have one question, princess." Jeongin stood behind you, and your eyes shifted to look at his.

"Yeah?" you gulped at his intense gaze.

"Why did you leave me in the closet?" he asked.

Your necklace almost slipped out of your hands before you turned to look at him.

"I was sad that you weren't coming to life." you said.

"So, you abandoned me?" he said, his eyes darkened but a little smirk started playing on his lips.

"I didn't- I didn't mean to. I swear I would've-"

"Shh, princess. I get it. I know exactly what you need." Jeongin stepped closer to you, his body hovering over yours as you backed up into the vanity, making it clatter.

"Y-you do?" your eyes fluttered.

"Remember I heard and saw everything. The fantasies you described to your friends. What you did to me. To yourself." his smirk grew wider. "Do I have your permission, doll?"

Your knees almost buckled right then and there. Your dolly came to life and called you his doll.

How ironically sexy.

"Yes." you said quietly and he let out a breathless chuckle as he leaned in closer to you. His strong arm encircled your waist, his free hand sliding up on your body to your neck as he wrapped his fingers around you. Your breath got stuck in your throat as he held you in place like that.

Jeongin pushed his thigh between your legs roughly, pulling them apart and pressing against your heated core, making your dress ride up. You whimpered, eyes wide in surprise and he squeezed your neck a little.

"You always act like a desperate little slut. Don't be shy now." he said lowly and you gasped, your hips moving almost automatically as you started grinding against Jeongin's thigh. He flexed the muscle as he squeezed your neck harder, cutting off you air supply while looking you right in the eyes. You gripped at the vanity, your pussy gushing with arousal as Jeongin manhandled you.

He released your neck at just the right time and you gasped, taking a deep breath as he removed his leg.

"W-why?" you whimpered, looking at his thigh and he chuckled darkly.

"I thought you liked being edged and denied." he smirked.

"I- I do." you licked your lips. You were finally getting exactly what you always wanted.

"I think you deserve to be punished for leaving me in the closet." Jeongin stated, his large hands sliding your dress up just a little.

"Mhm, I think so too." you said, your heart beating fast and pussy clenching in excitement.

Swiftly, Jeongin turned you around and pushed your upper body on top of the vanity. You gasped, wiggling a little as he looked at your barely covered ass in the dress. The first slap came unexpectedly over the fabric, only the tips of his fingers making contact with your soft skin. You whimpered, shutting your eyes tightly.

"I think that's not enough." Jeongin shook his head before pushing your dress up, leaving you exposed in your little thongs.

"Tsk. Walking around dressed like a whore." he smirked, landing a strong smack on your ass.

"Ah!" you whimpered and jolted, your nails digging into the wood underneath you.

"Bad girl." Jeongin whispered before landing a series of smacks to your flesh.

"Fuck." you whimpered, wiggling your ass a little.

"You're enjoying this aren't you?" Jeongin asked, smacking your ass again and you moaned, opening your eyes and looking at his reflection in the mirror.

"Well, are you?" he gave you a few more hard smacks.

"I am! I am!" you whined as Jeongin massaged your already sore asscheeks.

"Then it's not really punishment, is it?" he smirked, his palm colliding with your heated skin again.

"Mm. Do it harder." you groaned.

"Harder? Are you sure?" he asked, pinching your flesh a little and making you moan as your arousal soaked your little panties.

"Yes, I'm sure, please punish me Innie." you whimpered and he started smacking you harder, without even stopping for a moment to give you time to breathe. You moaned and gasped, grabbing desperately at your vanity as your legs trembled, tears slowly rolling down your cheeks. Jeongin held you down, his hand splayed on your upper back.

"M-more." you cried.

Jeongin smirked and stopped, making you whine loudly.

"Shut up." he said before giving your pussy a hard slap.

"Ah!" your eyes widened as you almost came. "S-stop."

"Hm? What's wrong?" he leaned over you with a little smirk.

"I don't - don't wanna cum yet."

"Oh you won't, don't worry." he chuckled lowly before lifting you up. Your knees buckled a little, the throbbing pain on your abused backside made you so horny that you wanted to cry.

"Get on your knees, doll." Jeongin ordered, his fingers tangling in your hair and you obeyed without questions. He thought you looked so adorable with your innocent eyes and pouty lips, so ready to do what he says, to please him.

He took his pants off, grabbing his hard cock and stepping closer to you. A wave of excitement ran through your body, your mouth watering.

"Open up." he smirked at your already fucked out state.

You decided to be a little bad. So you pressed your lips together and shook your head 'no'.

"No?" Jeongin raised an eyebrow.

You shook your head again, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"Are you being disobedient?" he asked and you giggled before shutting your mouth again.

Jeongin wasn't having it, his hand came up to grip your hair as he brought your face closer, slapping your cheek with his hard cock.

"Do as I say." he growled and you whimpered quietly but still disobeyed.

"You made me do this." he said, pinching your nose and you tried to take it but you had to open your mouth to breathe at some point. He took that chance to push his cock inside you, releasing your nose at the same time so you could breathe.

You choked a little but still took it, your hands curled behind your back as Jeongin gripped your hair and started fucking into you. You moaned and gagged around him as he snapped his hips into you mercilessly, pushing deeper in with every thrust.

"You love having your dirty mouth used like this, don't you princess?" he smirked at you as you cried and drooled around him.

"I asked you a question." he slapped your cheek lightly with his fingers and you moaned around him, gagging as he pushed in deeply.

"I know you do." Jeongin whispered and pulled out abruptly, making you gasp for air.

Before you could come to your senses, your vision still blurred from the tears, you shrieked as you realized you were being lifted up. Jeongin threw you on the bed, stripping you out of your dress.

You were in a daze, never this turned on in your life as he took off your panties and stuffed them into your mouth, making you whimper.

"It's your turn to be my doll." Jeongin snickered, grabbing his belt and tying your hands up to the headboard. You arched your body as you spread your legs, begging to be touched.

"You want me to use you for my pleasure?" Jeongin asked and you nodded frantically, your whimpers muffled by your panties as you tasted yourself.

"I'll use you like the toy you are." he said, pressing his cock against your folds and gathering the wetness before he pushed it into your tight pussy, making your eyes roll back as you cried. It hurt so good as he bottomed out, your pussy clenching around his length and sucking him in.

Your cries were muffled by the lacy fabric in your mouth as Jeongin started pounding his hips into yours.

"No cumming unless I say so." he hovered over you, his cock splitting you apart deliciously as his hands squeezed your breasts. You lost yourself in the pleasure of being fucked so fervently by him that you almost came. Your eyes shut tightly as you willed yourself to hold it in but it was so hard as Jeongin pressed right into your sweet spot every single thrust. Tears of frustration spilled out of your eyes as you clenched.

"Look at me while I fuck you." he said, slapping you lightly. Your eyes snapped open and you looked into his darkened ones.

"Good girl." he praised you, making your insides spin. "Now, take my cum." he added as he squeezed your hips and fucked into you with even more vigor.

You moaned pathetically around your gag, your hands squeezed into fists as you held your orgasm back. You felt like your insides would burst with how much you needed to cum.

You felt Jeongin's hot cum fill you up and your eyes rolled back, having no more control over it, you came with him as he moaned loudly, fucking his seed deep into you.

Your body trembled as you cried and he quickly pulled the makeshift gag out of your mouth.

"You okay?" he asked breathlessly.

"Water, please." you whimpered and Jeongin untied your hands before grabbing a bottle of water as you sat up.

"So, was that exactly how you wanted it?" he asked.

"Mhm. But you shouldn't have let me cum at the end." you smirked and he chuckled.

"I'll punish you for that next time." he smirked before leaning in to kiss you as you reached for his hand.

"I really am sorry I put you in the closet." you whispered against his lips and then kissed his dimples when he smiled at you.

"It's okay, I forgive you." Jeongin kissed your forehead.

"Just so you know. You're my boyfriend now." you giggled and Jeongin laughed, giving you another kiss.

You had to come up with a cover up for your father. You had bribed Jack to stay quiet as your first move and then you and Jeongin made up some story about him being your boyfriend who came to visit you from another city so that's why he had to stay with you. Your father eyed Jeongin suspiciously, asking him a few questions about his parents and what college he went to, and after some lies that you both practiced before, he gave Jeongin a pat on the shoulder.

"Treat her well, son." your father's eyes narrowed. It was not just a statement, it was a threat.

Jeongin gulped and nodded. "Of course, sir."

Your father nodded curtly before leaving to his office.

"Phew, that was close." you giggled, throwing your arms around his shoulders.

"I'm sweating bullets." Jeongin shivered and you laughed, throwing your head back. You were finally happy.

-

Your days were filled with Jeongin. Your shopping mall visits became visits to the cinema, your fancy restaurants became the places where you'd take him out on dates, your nights out in clubs were replaced with nights in, dancing in your room with your precious dolly.

You took him out to play golf with your father and Jack, to your country club, even to a little trip to one of your favorite resorts.

Your days were beautiful. Your nights, however, were something completely different.

A long white corridor. Distant muffled voices. A ringing in Jeongin's ear. Gloved hands grabbing at him and wheeling him off into a huge room with tall ceilings. The sound of whirring and the sight of the shiny androids working on top of him. He couldn't move or speak.

"Try the left side again." a painful prod at his side.

"He's unresponsive."

"Type this in." sounds of a keyboard clacking.

"It's like his vitals are lighting up but there's a bug somewhere."

"I know there's a bug! Let's get the other one. He seemed to respond to him better than us."

Jeongin couldn't see who the voices belonged to. Silence. The door clicked open. Then footsteps.

His angel appeared by his bedside.

"Hey, can you hear me?" he spoke in a deep, warm voice, a sunny smile gracing his freckled face.

"Look! It's happening now. He can hear him. Keep talking to him, number six."

"Just listen to my voice." the angel spoke again. "I'm here. I'll always be here." it echoed.

The room started spinning and turned into a cozy office. Gone was the angel and the androids. Jeongin was sitting in a nice leather chair, his body free of pain. He looked up, almost blinded by the sunlight coming from the window, when she appeared, her soft features comforting.

"Don't worry, Innie." the older woman said, coughing a little. "I won't let them hurt you." she said, but her voice was weak and her hands trembled.

"Mother?"

Jeongin sat up with a gasp, his body drenched in sweat, tears sliding down his cheeks.

"Innie?" you whispered, alarmed as you sat up too, your hand grabbing his. "Another nightmare?"

"I think these things happened to me." he said, breathing hard as he panicked.

"Oh?" you urged him on and he told you the entire dream.

"Wait. What did you say this 'angel' looked like?"

"Blonde. Freckles. Plump lips."

"Is this him?" you quickly picked your phone up, showing him the dolls he couldn't recognize before.

"That... yes, but he looks a little different there."

"Different how?" you asked.

"Like... More finished?"

You shivered. What the hell were they? And who made them? Most importantly, why?

"That's Felix. He's another doll like you."

"They called him number six. They called me number eight. But the woman at the end of the dream, she called me Innie." he gulped.

"I wish I could buy Felix so we could ask him what he remembers. But he is already sold out." you sighed. "Do you remember any of the other dolls? Did you dream about them?"

"No... I can't... I can't remember them." Jeongin shook his head. He was getting visibly upset.

"Hey, hey, Innie it's okay. Drink some water, yeah?" After he gulped down on the cool liquid, you pulled him into your arms.

"Let's sleep. We'll get to the bottom of this. Me and you." you pecked his lips as he searched your face.

But the next day, as you opened your eyes, your dolly was gone. You searched frantically for him, asking everyone in the house if they saw him leave but nobody did.

With tears blurring your vision, you found a note stuck next to your pillow.

'I'm sorry, I had to find out.'

Jeongin stood in front of the familiar building that loomed above him threateningly. How did he remember where to go? He had no idea. But he got there somehow, his eyes roaming all over the concrete walls and the bars on the windows. A shiver ran down his spine, an uncomfortable itch clawing inside his stomach. His eyes moved up and he stopped in his tracks.

There in one of the reflections in the glass he saw his angel, tears running down his freckled cheeks as he stared out the window.

He had to get in.

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @moon-ttokki-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @schniti-is-in-the-house @eastjonowhere @sona1800 @channiesrightasscheek @justwonder113 @yvettemint @inaribu00 @httpdwaekki @possum-playground @ria-april @yn-x-them @mariahxrrera @0omillo0 @halfwinterhalfuniverse @cooldeermagazine @delulkpopstan143 @todorokiskitten @compersian @azxulskz @stayp1eceposts @juskz @quokkacidal @chuuyaobsessed @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @lixies-favorite-cookie @thelostprincessofasgard @linocvp1d @stayjinnie @portgasdbru @lilgothhishhh @selinia86 @felixsbabe @staytinyluva @sadroses98 @katexstay @gnabnahcsworld @hazelbazil @iwannahugchangbin @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @skzfelixlove @skzjen @syedazarintasnim @geektacularmommom-blog @cookiesnmilfx @kayleefriedchicken @stxt-bby @strykdsstanot8 @hyunjinhwang2018 @binniesbabygirl @hyunjiniretti @linavc @julciaqwerty @salemluvsmusic @diipsy

[chrissturnsfav]

omg i just thought about something

can you write about how rapper!chris and star are arguing over something reallyy stupid and none of them wanna apologize first, but chris can't sleep properly if they're angry at each other so he tries to talk with her before going to bed😔😔

they’re just so sweet and i need some angst 💔

⋆.˚✮ rapper!chris and singer!reader refuse to go to bed angry

you don’t even remember how it started. something about work. or maybe it was the aux cord in the car. it was dumb as fuck, you know that, but now you're both too deep into this silent battle of egos to back down.

chris is across the room, scrolling on his phone, sprawled out in a manspread on the couch. you're on his bed, curled up in his hoodie that still smells like his cologne, arms crossed, jaw tight.

the sleepover routine hasn’t changed—you're here, he's here—but the vibe is off. and you hate when the vibe is off.

he exhales loud as hell, like he wants you to notice. you pretend you don't, but then he does it again. dramatic dick.

"yo, you really gonna sleep mad at me?" his voice is all low and smooth, but there’s that little whiny edge to it, kinda like he's suffering. good.

you don't answer. you hear him toss his phone onto the nightstand with way too much force.

"nah, fuck that," he mutters, then suddenly, the king size bed dips as he flops down next to you, shaking the whole mattress. you don't move.

he sighs and shifts. then a finger pokes your arm. once. twice. three times.

"quit actin' like you sleepin'. i know you ain't asleep, ma."

you swat his hand away, but he just laughs. you can hear the smirk on his lips.

"so we really beefin' over some dumb shit?"

"you started it," you mumble quietly, your heart speeding up. you hate arguing with chris, yet you're so stubborn.

"you kept it goin'," he shoots back, rolling onto his side to face you. "and now we both look dumb as shit."

you hate when he makes sense.

he shifts closer, nudging your shoulder with his. "look, i know you’re probably sittin' here thinkin' all hard, stressin' yourself out over some shit that don’t even matter."

you glare at him. "i am not."

"you are," he says, huffing with a roll of his eyes. "bet you already planned three different ways to apologize, blamed yourself for the whole argument, and decided i secretly wanna leave you. don’t lie."

you look away, huffing, realizing he's right once again.

he groans and throws an arm over his face. "baby, i love you, but you gotta stop doin' that shit."

his words hit something soft in your chest. you swallow.

"i just don't like to be wrong," you admit, voice small, chewing the inside of your cheek.

he peeks at you from under his arm, grinning. "well, if we're bein' real, we're both wrong. so now we can stop actin' stupid and go to sleep."

you hesitate, shooting him a bratty glare, making him scoff out a chuckle.

"c'mooon," he coaxes, voice dipping into that playful, teasing tone that always makes you crack. "jus' say you sorry first. be the bigger person. show me how mature you are."

"you say it first," you whine, frowning like a small child.

"nah, ion do first," he says, flipping onto his back with a smirk. "i'm a rapper. got a reputation to uphold."

you roll your eyes, but he catches the way the corner of your mouth twitches. he sees his opening and goes straight for it.

next thing you know, he's rolling over, wrapping himself around you like a human blanket, his breath warm against your neck. "damn, you smell good," he mumbles. "all mad and cute and shit."

you groan. "chris—"

"shhh," he hums, tucking his face against your shoulder. "s'okay, i accept your apology."

"i didn't even apologize," you whine, frowning up at him as you squirm.

"you were thinkin' it, though. i could feel it. don't pull that stubborn shit, now."

you smack his arm, and he just laughs, holding you tighter. his warmth melts away the last bit of your stubbornness. fine. you did miss him.

"…whatever," you mumble, snuggling into his hoodie.

he presses a sloppy kiss to your cheek. "love you, kid," he mumbles against your skin.

you huff, giving in. "love you."

thank you for reading!! <3

tags 🏷️: @sturnobsessedwh0re , @idrk2292 , @mattsbrat , @ribbonlovergirl , @matthewsroses , @mattsdemi , @emely9274 , @frankoceanfanpage , @ifwdominicfike , @marrykisskilled , @strnilolover , @cayleeuhithinknott , @forgottxen , @sophand4n4 , @sturnsrecord , @purpledragon222 , @faiyaz555 , @jocelyncsblog , @freakiolos , @slut4chris888 , @chriss-slutt , @ilovedanielcaesar , @annsx03 , @snoopychris , @chrissweetheart , @slutformatt17 , @mattsturnii , @dominicfikeenthusiast , @mattsbratt333 , @ivysturnss , @tessasturns , @coquettechris , @courta13 , @sturniolo101 , @malsmind

@chrissturnsfav ™