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heavyhitterheaux · 7 months ago

Text

Good Intentions

See Me Through You Fic

Synopsis: An argument between you and your twin ultimately leads to an argument between you and your fiancé who calls you out about your actions and tells you how being overprotective isn't a good thing

Pairing: Fiancé!Joe Burrow x Fiancée!Reader

Series Masterlist

Requested by: by boo @hoodharlow 💕

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

AN: This takes place during Ja'Marr's rookie season. You are still at LSU and taking summer classes

The last thing your twin ever wanted to do was hurt your feelings, but all in all he had had enough and had reached his limit when it came to you being overprotective.

At this point, it was honestly suffocating.

It had been this way since the two of you were born and although Ja'Marr was grateful to be able to get along with his sibling since he knew not everyone did, something had to give. Yes, the two of you would talk to each other multiple times a day, but it seemed as if his phone had been ringing nonstop since he landed in Cincinnati.

As soon as he was going to text you and tell you that he wanted to talk about the situation, his phone was ringing indicating that it was you….

Again.

Taking a deep breath, Ja'Marr answered.

“Yes, Pebbles?”

“Bam Bam! Are you okay? How's everything going? I miss you. Did you eat breakfast already and take your vitamins?”

“I'm fine. I was fine when you called me two hours ago too…. at six in the morning. I miss you too. And yes to both of those questions.”

“It's just so weird not having you here and I hate it. I'm so proud of you, though. I always knew you would make it to the NFL because I saw your potential and how good you were. What do you have planned for today?” You asked as you were currently at the nail salon trying to decide on the color that you wanted.

You would be reunited with both your brother and fiancé in three weeks and you had been counting down until the last minute.

“Same plan that I had two hours ago. Just trying to get settled. Go explore the city a little bit.”

“Okay, well I guess I'll let you do that. I like how you're still getting an early start.” You told him as it was still barely eight in the morning.

“Wait, Pebbles can we talk?”

“We'll talk later when I call you back. I'm at the nail salon. Give me like an hour or two. They're ready for me. Love you!”

“Love you too.” Ja'Marr quietly said before the two of you hung up and he quickly looked up at Joe who was sitting across from him and half asleep himself since you had requested once again for him to head over to Ja'Marr's to check on him.

“You have got to tell her because this is insane. I feel like I've seen you more in the past week than I did my whole two years at LSU.” Joe told him as he shook his head.

“I just… I don't want to make her feel bad because I know she means well.”

“But this cannot keep happening. I'm surprised she hasn't told me to make you move in with me so I can keep an eye on you. That's probably going to happen by the end of the day.”

“I'll talk to her once she calls me back later.” Ja'Marr replied, but if he was being honest he was actually dreading this conversation.

“You mean in five minutes?” Joe asked and Ja'Marr couldn't help but to laugh.

“I should time it and see how long it takes for her to actually do it.”

“Well in the meantime, I'm going back to sleep. But I know I won't be able to sleep for long before she's calling me back too.” Joe said as he got up and grabbed his keys making his way towards the door.

“I just hope she doesn't take it the wrong way.”

“I think everything will die down once she's actually here in person.”

—

When you had finally gotten out of the nail salon after admiring them and taking multiple pictures and had got settled in your car, you called Joe to see what he was up to and to also check on your brother. It was hard not being able to be with your brother as well as your fiancé since you had gotten accustomed to having both of them.

You were taking a few summer classes which delayed you spending time with him in Cincinnati. Luckily, you only had a few weeks left until you would be able to.

“Hi baby! My nails are pink! I took a picture and sent it to you.” You proudly told Joe as he had you on speaker and was looking at the picture as you were telling him.

“I love them. Can't wait to feel them scratching down my back.”

“I… behave yourself!”

“I am behaving! I can't help that I miss my girl.”

“Aww, I miss you too. I just wanted to take this class so it will lessen my load come next semester. Anyway, babe, can you go and check on Ja'Marr?” You sweetly asked and Joe couldn't help but to roll his eyes and was thankful that it wasn't a facetime call. He knew that it was only a matter of time.

“Baby, I was literally just over there three hours ago. I'm not going over there again.” Joe told you as he was trying to make himself a smoothie and started to get ingredients out of the fridge.

“But I have to know if he's okay!”

“Y/N, are you going to let him be an adult or…?”

“He's my baby brother! And you told me that you would look out for him once he got to Cincy. And since when is he an adult?! He is still three in my eyes!”

“Princess, I am looking out for him, but you are being extremely overprotective and Ja'Marr is scared to say anything because he doesn't want to hurt your feelings. How long are you going to try and hold his hand for? And he became an adult the minute that he turned eighteen.”

“If he had a problem with me calling him so much, he would tell me. He tells me everything.” You said and Joe scoffed.

“Uh? What was that sound for? See, you're the youngest so you probably don't understand! I have been looking out for him since forever! I have so many responsibilities on my shoulders being the oldest.”

“Older by three minutes. And you need to calm down and let him be. You are in the wrong here, but won't admit it. Nothing wrong with checking on him, but babe this is borderline obsessive.” Joe explained to you as he was now cutting up the fruit he wanted to put in his smoothie.

“Joey, what the hell!? He's the only sibling I have.”

“I'm your fiancé and I'm always going to be honest with you. I don't care if it's something you don't want to hear or agree with.”

“There is literally nothing wrong with what I'm doing.”

Joe couldn't help but to roll his eyes once more.

“Okay, baby. Since you don't think it's bothering him, hang up and call him. Then call me back and tell me what he says.”

“Fine, you’ll see.” You said as you shrugged even though Joe couldn't see you.

Once you hung up with him, you called your twin and he didn't even give you a proper greeting before he started to go off on you.

“Y/N, what could you possibly ask me about now?”

“Whoa, what's the attitude for? And I thought you wanted to talk to me? You always want to talk to me.” You asked as you were caught off guard.

“Don't you have class, or practice, or SOMETHING that you can occupy your time with instead of calling me every five minutes?”

“I… Ja'Marr I just want to make sure you’re okay. You're my baby brother and my twin. Only one I have.”

“Yes, I know and you will NOT let me fucking breathe. Like got damn. I've only been here a damn week and all of my calls are basically from you every two minutes. Yes, Joe is checking on me and making sure I'm good. But I don't need a babysitter. He's also getting annoyed because you tell him to come and check on me ten times a day!” Ja'Marr told you unable to hold back any longer.

“But… you turned your location off. I need to know where you are. You never turn it off. What's up with that?”

“NO YOU DON'T. I'm good, that's all you need to know. All you have been doing ever since I got drafted was be extremely overprotective! Mom and dad aren't even this bad.” He told you as he was being completely honest.

It was quiet for a few seconds before you decided to say anything, obviously hurt by his reaction.

“If I'm bothering you, I'll stop. I just miss you is all. But I can see that I'm causing more harm than good. So I'll hang up now.” You said with tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

“Wait, Pebbles, I just…” Now Ja'Marr was regretting his approach because he now knew for a fact that he had hurt your feelings which he was trying to avoid doing.

“Bye, have a good rest of your day.”

You didn't give him a chance to finish as you quickly hung up and wiped away the tears that did end up falling. Figuring that you were also probably bothering your fiancé just as Ja'Marr mentioned, you decided to send him a text instead of calling him again.

You- I'll stop asking for you to check on him

Joey- Baby, I don't mind checking on him. Just tone it down a little bit. I promise you that he's okay. If he wasn’t, you would be the first person I told.

You- No, I'm not asking anymore at all. If he wants to talk to me, he will and I'll leave it at that. I guess I'm bothering you too so I'll let you be. Talk to you whenever.

Joey- Princess, stop being ridiculous. You aren't bothering me.

You- Ja'Marr said otherwise so goodnight

“Shit.” Joe muttered underneath his breath before typing a response back to you.

Joey- It is literally 11 in the morning and you're being petty

You- I can tell time, goodnight like I said

For the rest of the day, your phone had been blown up by Joe but you weren't budging. Ja’Marr had been eerily quiet, but you definitely weren't about to say anything to him.

He wanted space so that was what he was going to get.

If he felt like you were being extremely overprotective and also bothering Joe with your antics, you were simply going to keep your distance.

About a week had passed and Ja'Marr honestly felt weird.

He hadn't talked to his big sister and since it was out of the ordinary, when certain things happened he didn't have anyone he would immediately run and tell about it.

That person had been you.

He had been leaving you messages here and there with no response from you.

Joe wasn't any better and you would be sending him one word answers to his text messages while declining his facetime calls despite him wanting to call a truce.

He came to the conclusion that you were obviously still hurt by the argument that had taken place, but he needed to fix this before you came to see him in two weeks.

Well, if you still wanted to see him, that is.

Because as of right now he wasn't so sure.

It was now around six in the evening when you and Erin had just gotten back from going shopping and you had begun to put away your clothes in your closet when you heard Erin's phone ring as she was sitting on your bed.

“Oh no.” She breathed out and you looked at her in confusion.

“What?”

“Your baby daddy is calling me.” She told you and you quickly rolled your eyes.

One thing about Joe is if he knew you were mad at him, nine times out of ten he's calling Erin to check on you because he knows that you'll keep ignoring him.

“I'm not talking to him right now.”

“Wait, didn’t you tell him goodnight at 11 in the morning the other day?” She asked while laughing.

“Yes, and I meant it.”

“Let’s see what he wants.” Erin replied as you quickly shook your head no before exclaiming it.

“NO!”

“Too late. Hi Joey!” Erin said as she waved at him with you quickly rolling your eyes.

Great, it was a facetime call too.

“Hey Erin, where's Y/N?”

“In front of me and I told her to call you so that the two of you could make up but she's being stubborn.” She told him and you promptly rolled your eyes.

“Can you pass her the phone?” He politely asked and she quickly nodded.

“Sure.”

It took a minute for you to take the phone from her, but once you did, you didn't greet your fiancé but simply stared at him.

“Baby….”

“What? What do you want?”

“Lose the attitude. And I’m just checking on you, have you talked to your twin at all?”

“Nope, and I don't plan on it. He asked me if I had something to occupy my time with instead of bothering him and here we are. And I thought I told you goodnight already?”

“Princess, he wants to talk to you and apologize but you wouldn't know that since apparently you've been ignoring him. And you told me that damn near a week ago. We communicate with each other in this relationship and this needs to end tonight.”

“Okay, can I get back to watching my shows now?” You asked as you had now moved from your room to the living room and turned on Netflix with Erin behind you.

“No, talk to him first and then we need to talk.”

“Well I don't know how that's going to happen because I'm not calling him.”

“There's no need to, he's right here.” Joe told you and quickly passed the phone to Ja'Marr.

“Wait, what?”

“Pebbles….”

“Wow, the minute I say I'm going to stop calling you, look who decides to come crawling back?” You told him and Ja'Marr quickly rolled his eyes.

“You need to shut your petty ass up so I can apologize.”

“I will jump through this phone and tackle you. Fuck a D-line.” You shot back and he let out a deep sigh.

“Like I was saying because I am ignoring that last statement. I never meant to hurt your feelings and it did come out kind of harsh.”

“Kind of? That's putting it lightly.” You muttered as you were deciding which show you wanted to catch up on.

“Y/N!”

“I'm just telling it like it is.”

“Anyway, I'm sorry but we have got to come to a compromise because we can't keep doing this.”

You sighed before answering him, but quickly nodded in agreement.

“I'm sorry too, but the only way I'm forgiving you is if you door dash me some food.”

“Already done. Honey old bay wings, all flats. Should be there in the next ten minutes.”

“Oh, you are definitely trying to get back on my good side. But on a serious note, I promise to give you more space and I never want you to feel like I'm suffocating you. I just… it's kinda lonely here now. I do have Erin and Alisha but…. I have literally never been away from you.” You confessed as Ja'Marr nodded.

“I know and it's going to take some time for us to adjust. But we'll get there. We good now?”

“Yes, we're good.”

“Now stop being a petty ass fiancée to my best friend.” Ja'Marr said as he eyed you and handed Joe back the phone.

“Babe?”

“Yes, princess?”

“I'm sorry and you know I love you. And yes I need to work on my communication when it comes to you and stop shutting you out.” You told him while you got up off the couch to grab a drink from the fridge.

“I don't know how many times that I have to remind you that I'm not him. I care about how you feel and am always willing to meet you halfway. I asked you to marry me for a reason. I love you too.”

“Sometimes I swear I don't deserve you.” You whispered and Joe simply shook his head.

“We deserve each other and we're going to continue to make our relationship stronger because once I slip that ring on your finger next summer, that's it. You're mine forever and whatever problems may arise, we simply have to figure it out together. We're a team, okay?”

“Okay.” You quietly said as you smiled at him.

"See you in two weeks, princess?” Joe asked with excitement dripping from his voice.

“Two weeks and not a day more.”

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow x black reader #joe burrow angst #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow x you #joe shiesty #joey burrow #nfl imagine

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aurumalatus · 8 months ago

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two.

a short series in which you share a multitude of kisses with childhood friends to lovers!kinich over your lifetime.

your bedroom feels overwhelmingly hot.

the a/c is on, you know because your curtains are billowing from the cool air pooling from the vent underneath them. summers are always this warm, when the humidity grows high and sweat sticks to your skin in layers.

kinich is laying on your bed, fanning himself with a stray magazine he had plucked from your nightstand. on days like these, it's too hot for you to even make the walk to the park down the street, or to the skatepark. you'd be drowning in sweat before you made it there, you're sure.

"so you've never kissed anyone?"

you don't even really remember how the conversation started. all you know is that the two of you had been talking about things you'd never done before, and you'd arrived at this. the girls in the locker room had been discussing it—their first kiss—including who it was with and what it was like.

the mere thought makes you gnaw at your lip, tension filling the room.

"...have you?" you reply, glancing over to your best friend. he doesn't seem nearly as bothered by the subject matter as you are.

"nope. i don't really care though," he sighs, which is so typical of him, you think. unlike you, kinich cares very little what the other kids in your grade think of him.

but you care, and you're starting to worry that you're falling behind in that...developmental area. you've managed to deflect any questions about the topic from the other girls in your class, but you fear that you won't be able to keep it up for long.

kinich sits up, shuffling forward on your bed to stare at where you sit on the ground. his gaze is inquisitive, and you suddenly feel very vulnerable.

"but let me guess," he starts, tossing his makeshift fan aside, "you care."

as always, he has you all figured out. after a moment of hesitation, you nod.

"i do. i know it's lame, but i feel like the other girls will think i'm..."

"a prude?"

you sigh. "something like that."

another moment passes before kinich is crawling off the bed, sitting cross-legged before you. his proximity makes the heat worse, but you don't hate it.

"alright," he shrugs, scooting closer. "then i'll kiss you, and you can tell everyone it was me."

you flinch in alarm, head knocking against the drawer of your wooden dresser. kinich's eyes widen, hands already outstretched toward you, but you interrupt him with your own spluttering.

"wh-what?! what are you talking about? you can't just do that!"

he tilts his head. "why not? is it because you're embarrassed for it to be me?"

"no!" you defend instantly. you'd never be embarrassed to be around kinich. "but...don't you want it to be with a girl you actually like?"

"i do like you."

you shake your head. you know what he means, but you were implying a different kind of like. still, the thought of sharing your first kiss with kinich isn't...awful. it's a bit comforting to share it with someone you trust, even moreso when you know that he hasn't done it before either.

finally, after thinking on it a bit more, you nod firmly.

"okay."

kinich raises a brow. "okay?"

and then he's leaning in, and you don't know whether to close your eyes or leave them open. you're trying to remember every teen romance movie you've ever watched after your mother went to bed, but your memory fails you. but he's already so close, and you rush forward a little too fast and—

your lips bump together clumsily, and you wince at the feeling. it's weird, certainly, and you're honestly not sure if you're doing it right at all. you can feel kinich's lashes brushing against your skin, and the feeling makes you shiver.

it's chaste, so brief that it's over before it even really registers in your mind that it happened. your mind is racing by the time kinich pulls away, and you find yourself meeting his eyes far too quickly.

his gaze is warm. "that okay?"

you nod, wondering what the blooming feeling in your chest could mean.

"yeah," you reply, swallowing thickly. "it was okay."

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kinich x reader #genshin impact #kinich #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x you #kinich x you #adeptus ink

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suprababka · 24 days ago

Note

Hiii! If it’s not a problem can I request a headcanon of waking OPM characters with head? :)

Hiii!👋 Of course it's not a problem, thank you for the request! :) Thirsty, aren't we?😉 (me too🤝) If something is not right, please let me know, and I'll fix it. Have fun!💕

Waking them up with giving them a head

T/W: NSWF content! Minors, do NOT interact!!!🔞🔞🔞 (also me: *writes for Metal Bat*... but he's at least 17... right?)

A/N: that's my 100th post, wow!🤩 (remember me saying in the previous post that I'd be free from now on? Well, I guess I underestimated the upcoming wave of deadlines and the exhaustion as a consequence, sorry as always😅 BUT NOW I ACTUALLY WILL BE MORE FREE SINCE I'M ON SUMMER HOLIDAYS, YAAAAY😎) (even Murata managed to upload new chapter meantime, lol)

Thanks for all the likes, comments, reblogs and following me! I really appreciate your feedback and support, guys!🥰🫶

You can check my first and my second masterlists to see more of my other works.

Prepare for possible OOC!

Also be aware of implied fem!reader!

(Sorry if there are any mistakes!)

And, most importantly, enjoy!!!

You wake up only to see your boyfriend sleeping with his mouth agape and sprawled out on the bed/mattress (as always)

And as you lift yourself up from his chest, you feel a bump against your butt

Yes, it's Saitama's morning wood

A mischievous smile appears on your face as you lick your lower lip

Maybe there is something in the air today or feeling your man's hard cock between your ass cheeks made you horny immediately

In any case, your playful mood rises

And in the next moment, your hands swiftly slip off Saitama's pants and underwear, making his dick spring out freely

Finding yourself starting to drool, you decide not to waste time and begin kissing and licking the tip

You glance at your man who is still sleeping like nothing is going on

You continue your ministrations, gradually taking in more and more his length

Meanwhile, Saitama is sleeping soundly, rarely twitching his fingers and moving his head

So there is a reaction after all...

But not enough

Your moves get more intense

Soon, your boyfriend unconsciously starts buckling his hips, his tip goes deeper in your throat

And you can feel it pulsing, meaning the upcoming release

Just a little bit more, and you will send Saitama over the edge

But suddenly, he sits up, screaming "AHHHH! GET AWAY FROM ME, I WON'T LICK YOUR POPSICLE!!!"

You stop, staring at your boyfriend with a surprised look

He is perplexed, both trying to come back to reality and to process what is happening

"What the hell are you doing?" he asks after watching you with the half of his dick inside your mouth for some time

His voice doesn't sound irritated, it's filled with genuine confusion

You sit up, chuckling and wiping away your saliva

"I'm waking you up, hun."

Saitama silently hisses, feeling his tip exposed to coldness, and immediately wraps his fingers around it

Even though he furrows his brows because of this, his eyes are full of desperate need to finish what you started

Smirking, you return attention to your man's dick and proceed to suck him off

This makes him ejaculate in no time

Swallowing the sperm, you innocently smile at your boyfriend

"Good morning, 'Tama! Hope you slept well."

Saying that last night was intense is an understatement

You can already feel soreness in your body as you begin to wake up

Opening your eyes, you see your boyfriend sleeping next to you

This surprises you as Genos is always the last one to fall asleep and the first one to wake up

Or maybe you got up too early?

The sun, shining through the curtains, tells you otherwise

Anyway, the S-class hero deserves the rest

You start getting up from the bed, trying to be as quiet as possible not to wake him up

And as you do that, you notice that Genos didn't take his cock off

He has never forgotten about it before

Poor thing, he must have been really worn out then

You suddenly remember his words that Dr. Kuseno made his dick more sensitive and almost the same as human organ

Almost...

You realize that your man doesn't have morning wood

It's not like it's a bad thing or something else

But it makes you wonder how does your boyfriend gets hard

Does he do it telepathically? Or there are some buttons? Or..?

You decide to conduct a small experiment: tease Genos and see if his erection will appear

Your fingers playfully caress his abdomen, getting closer to his length and running along it

The cock gradually rises

Aha, so S-class hero doesn't control it

Feeling enthusiastic, you start kissing and licking the dick

You get so engaged in this that you basically start sucking your man off and don't notice him waking up

"Y/n?" a calm voice which you love so much is heard

You come back to reality and realize what you're doing now

Embarrassed, you move away from him and don't dare to look into his eyes, feeling how they already scan you

Silence

You want to explain yourself, but don't know how

As you're about to say something, Genos speaks first

"Princess, did I not satisfy you the other night? I apologize as I thought you had more than enough due to falling asleep rather quickly after multiple lovemaking sessions. Please, let me fix my mistake."

Embarrassed, you chuckle and explain everything

After that, cyborg calmly tells you that his strap-on is connected to his nervous system, meaning that it functions like an organ

But there is a nuance: it's connected to anything related to the sexual arousal

...Well, it's what you understand from the long speech, full of different terms that you heard of for the first time in your life

After you thank S-class hero, a silence between you falls again

You can't help but still feel embarrassed

Especially when your boyfriend is still hard, despite him looking unfazed

He follows your gaze down to... his cock

"I'm sorry, Y/n. I will remove my strap-on now since it makes you uncomfortable."

Huh?

You stop Genos before he could pull it off and ask him if you can continue what you started

He is a bit surprised at your request, but lets you do your thing

After all, your wish is his command

Even though he'd prefer to pleasure you instead

Your tongue and lips do wonders to him

They feel like heaven on hid cock

And some time later, he fills your mouth with his cum

You swallow it and want to get up to start the day

But strong arms pin you against the bed

"Thank you for the blowjob, princess. Now, let me return the favor, please."

You wake up, feeling like something is practically glued to you

Of course, it's your boyfriend who is snuggling against you like a koala

And meanwhile he cutely snuffles into your ears, his morning hardness perfectly brushes between your legs

What a contrast

As much as you’d like to keep laying in bed, you can't ignore the appearing wetness in your panties

What a sleeping teaser Sonic is

Two can play the game

You carefully untangle from the strong grip and replace yourself with a pillow

Your hands move down to his cock and softly stroke him, making your man jolt

But he doesn't wake up

...Yet

It's time to bring out the big guns

Your mouth, namely

Your lips wrap around ninja's dick and start sliding down it

Sonic starts slightly moaning and sulking while tossing around

You continue doing your thing

And soon, he opens his eyes and looks at you confused

"Y/nnie? What are you doi– Ah-h..."

Poor baby can't even finish the question as he tilts his head back, moaning and rolling his eyes

Grinning you let go of him, standing up

Your boyfriend looks at you like a kid whose favourite candy was taken away from him

"Hey there, hedgehog. I was just checking your ninja skills. It could be anyone else instead of me, you know. You should be more careful."

"Wha... wha... what..?"

You chuckle and decide to tease Sonic further

"Since I woke you up, I'll go to the kitchen now to start making breakfast now. See you there!"

Your man blinks for a few times

Then he looks at his hard member and returns his gaze to your retreating silhouette

"Wait! Don't leave me alone like this! Hey! Please, mommy! I need your help! Please, Y/nniiiiieeeeee!!!"

Aw, how can you say no to such a cute face?

For some reason, the view of your boyfriend's hard dick tightening his pants always makes you feel things

Oh, and how do you love stroking it...

And today's morning is no exception

The first thing you see is a huge bulge in Garou's boxers

You instantly smirk, knowing what to do

There is no chance in hell you will skip the opportunity to tease him

You wrap your fingers around the hardness and start stroking it, watching the man's reaction

But he continues sleeping

Seriously?

Maybe getting rid of the underwear will make the cock more sensitive?

You take off Garou's boxers and proceed to masturbate his now exposed dick

And again, no result

It looks like you gotta put your mouth into use

Not that you mind it though

You start sucking your boyfriend off, regularly stealing glances at him

As you could have already guessed, the view before you doesn't change

Feeling frustrated, you begin to move your head more actively, taking the cock deep in your throat

You start enjoying this so much that you forget about your man and your desperate attempt to tease him

You concentrate on the way his tip reaches your throat and how your tongue and lips brush against the flesh

Soon, your mouth gets filled with sperm, and you swallow it

Satisfied, you lift your head up... and meet a pair of pleased golden eyes

Garou looks at you with a rather smug smirk on his face

His hands are crossed behind his head as if he is enjoying some show on TV

...

This bastard was pretending to be asleep the whole time

"Good morning, sweetheart. Well, I don't know about you, but I had a wonderful start of the day... I could get used to waking up like that, you know."

Just don't be surprised to get up feeling how long fingers stretch out your pussy the next morning

A smile spreads across your face before you even open your eyes

It's because you can feel your man's arms wrapped around you and his hot breath against your neck

S-class hero finally gets a rest that he deserves so much after an exhausting week

Zenko is on her mini school trip, so it's just you and your boyfriend

Feeling a sudden wave of affection towards Badd, you face him and caress his cheek, peppering his face with kisses and simply admiring his beauty

In return, he hums in his sleep, pressing you closer against him... and his morning wood

A thought crosses your mind

It's late morning, so why not to give Metal Bat a pleasant awakening?

Grinning, you carefully escape from his grip and remove his pants and boxers

You spit on your fingers and grind his cock

Your boyfriend moans softly, but still doesn't wake up

You leave a trail of kisses along his length and peck his tip, making Badd slightly move and grab the sheets

Proceeding to the next step, you gradually take your man's dick in your mouth and start moving your head up and down

Young hero starts openly moaning, tightly gripping the sheets and tossing and turning

Soon, his tip starts pulsing and his moans get deeper

Metal Bat unconsciously buckles his hip, shoving his cock deep down your throat

Your movements become more intense, and your boyfriend cums not long after

He loudly moans and sits up, opening his eyes, while you get filled with his sperm

And stares at you confused as you turn your head to look at him, grinning after consuming his release

His eyes widen, a pure terror appears on his face

"Zenko!.. She didn't hear us, did she?!"

You chuckle and remind him that his sister is away

Badd exhales relieved

He processes what just happened and listens to you, saying that you wanted to give him a pleasant surprise

Unexpectedly, he covers your lips with his and leaves a trail of kisses down your wet pussy

Now it's time for him to show you his gratitude

Your sex life with Amai is full of different experiments and filled with passion

Mostly, it's Mask who thinks of something new or spices things up

Don't worry, you also take part in diversifying your fun in bed

And as for now, you're pulling your boyfriend's pajama and underwear off him meanwhile he sleeps soundly

Why?

Well... why not? ;)

You know how much Beaut loves it when you give him a head

So having you sucking off his dick must be a rather great start of the day for him, right?

Especially considering that both of you have a free day ahead

You start stroking your man's cock only to get no reaction from him

And even when you start pecking his tip, he continues to sleep

Without wasting time, your lips wrap around hardness and proceed to push it into your mouth with your tongue sliding along the flesh

You decided to have it little by little

And as you're about to move your head up, a hand stops you

"Come on, darling, we both know you can take much more than that."

Amai starts moving your head up and down with his hand

His dick goes deep down your throat as tears form in your eyes

Yeah, pop idol likes to be rough with you in bed

And you like it

Slurping, you continue sucking off your man

(or should I say getting your throat fucked?)

Some time later, he starts buckling his hips, making him go even deeper than before into you and practically stuffing your mouth with his balls

It means he's close now

A few more hard thrusts, and Sweet Mask fills your throat with his cum

You swallow it and receive a head pat as you get praised for performing a fantastic blowjob

And then Amai suddenly grabs you, pinning you on bed beneath him

You subconsciously press your wet pussy against his knee, which is already between your legs, wanting for more

Your boyfriend lowers his head and leaves a trail of kisses along your neck

As you arch your back to get closer to him, you feel him moving away and standing up from bed

"Let's brush our teeth first, and after that we can... return to our business."

...

What a teasing bastard

You wake up and notice that your man still sleeping

Now that's a rare sight since he almost always wakes up first

Usually, you either let him sleep... or mess with him

For example, draw him a mustache with toothpaste, wake him up by squeezing a lemon into his mouth or braid his hair

Or.... give him a head

Yes, that's what you're doing right now

Well, trying to do

Because as soon as your hands get on the waistband of his underwear, the ninja immediately opens his eyes and stops you

"What the hell are you trying to do?"

...Oops

How to explain this?

You try to reassure him that your intentions weren't bad and get a skeptical look from Flashy Flash

"Your so-called pranks usually leave me in disgust or you in disappointment. So stop whatever you were about to start."

He listens to your yapping about noble plans for god knows how long

(around five minutes)

Finally, he signs and reluctantly lets go of your hands

S-class hero can't help but feel intrigued by your bold advance on his morning wood

Usually, he is the one performing oral because, again, he feels uncomfortable at the thought of you having something shoved in your throat

So the blond is confused at your eagerness to suck him off and decides to enjoy the show

As you take him step by step, a huge wave of pleasure spreads across his body

He lets out a soft groan, tilting his head back and closing his eyes

His hand subconsciously moves to the back of your head and supports it, gently helping you

The deeper his dick goes down your throat, the closer he gets to his release

Ah, it feels so good

As for you, it's safe to stay you're fully engrossed in the process... and feel aroused as well

And your fingers that desperately rub your wet pussy don't help much

You increase your pace and start feeling your man's tip pulsing

(and the way your cunt throbs too)

Soon enough, Flashy Flash cums in your mouth, and you swallow everything without wasting a single drop

You both stare at each other with a heat in your eyes

This is not enough

Not even saying a word to each other, you both begin to move

Your ass faces the man as he lowers his head and lovingly flicks his tongue between your folds

The show must go on

Zombieman's groans mix with your slurping and muffed moans, filling the room

Your mouth gets ravished by your boyfriend's dick as he slams his balls against your lips with a loud smack

His tip harshly reaches your throat, brushing against your tonsils

A few drops of saliva run along your neck and splatter on your bare chest, joining the other ones

The man's moves quicken, signaling his upcoming release

Just a few more thrusts, and, and!..

You open your eyes

It was just a dream

What the hell

Thanks to such vivid vision in your head that you probably won't forget about for the day, you find yourself feeling thirsty

But not for the water

You look at your sleeping man who nuzzles against you

... and whose morning wood perfectly slides along your needy pussy

Being in a daze, you slightly grind your folds against his hardness

Ah, shouldn't have done that

Because your horny mood only rose

What to do?

You don't want to wake Zombieman up

Nor you want to help yourself in the bathroom

Because what you're really craving is filling your mouth with the hero's cock

Without realizing it, you move your hands to his boxers and slip them off, freeing his dick

In the heat of the moment, you start covering it with kisses and caressing it

Soon, you take it in your mouth, moaning in pleasure

Loud enough to wake your boyfriend up

He blinks, staring at you and trying to come to his senses

Maybe it's still a dream?

But it feels too real though

S-class hero pinches himself

Turns out, this is actually happening

You're sucking his cock

And when your tongue goes over that special spot, he lets out a deep groan, tilting his head back and closing eyes

He continues enjoying your mouth worshiping his length, telling how good it feels and brushing away strands of your hair (if there are any)

And do you know what can make this even better?

A morning cigarette

He reaches over to the nightstand and places a cigarette between his lips, igniting it

Zombieman takes a big drag and slowly exhales

Perfect, just perfect

(if you're uncomfortable with the smoke and smell, then he doesn't do it)

You begin gulping down more and more of his dick, feeling how your man unconsciously buckles his hips and how his tip pulses

And soon enough, he lets go

You swallow the sperm as he puts out a cigarette

"Dear, you're going to be the death of me one day, you know."

You just give him a mischievous smirk which makes him to grin in return

In the next moment, you're pushed to your back and your legs are spread open as two fingers enter your pussy

"Now, let me please you as well."

You and King sometimes like to watch porn and hentai together

Why?

Firstly, to get aroused (not that you both have problems with that, but it helps to settle the mood)

Secondly, you do it just for fun (there even were cases where you got into plot and watched only for it)

And thirdly, to get new ideas for sex or to understand how to do some poses

And one day, you get a glimpse of a video title where a girl wakes her boyfriend up with a blowjob

King doesn't notice it, but you decide to try out this when the opportunity arrives

Meaning, the next morning

When you free your boyfriend's cock, you start smoothly stroking it

King instantly moves his head, whimpering

But still doesn't wake up

You take the next step: pepper his hardness with kisses and lick it there and there

S-class hero starts moaning

And now it's time for the main "event"

You gradually take his dick and start sucking him

Man's moans get louder as you pick up the pace

His cock starts twitching rather quickly, signaling the building release

And as King is about to cum, he opens his eyes and sees your head between his legs

He doesn't even question what is going on because his mind is focused on reaching the peak

Just a little bit more, and some more, and–

"I'm coming!"

But he doesn't

You let go of him and look at his desperate face

Blue eyes are filled with pleading to finish what was started

But you don't give in so easily

"Mm? Why are you looking at me like this, baby?"

"I need... to cum..."

"And what does this have to do with me?"

"Please... finish..."

"Huh? I don't really understand. Speak louder."

"I... I... Please, finish what you started!"

"Eh? What exactly I started?"

"Giving me a head..."

"So you want me to suck you off?"

"Y-yes!"

"And what is the magic word?"

"Please! I'm begging!"

You chuckle

"Alright, since you ask so nicely."

You lower your head and proceed giving him a head

King is already tense and about to ejaculate

So one playful bite on his tip makes him go over the edge

He pants, looking at you swallowing his cum and then smirking

"Good morning, King! I hope you don't mind that I took an idea on how to wake you up from one adult vid."

"What... what the hell just happened?"

87 notes · View notes

capslocked · 2 years ago

Text

KINKVEMBER DAY: 9

[prompt: problematic relationships]

male reader x nana

10k words

"Do you have any idea how long I've thought about it?" Nana slips a finger between the buttons of your shirt. "You, me - us?"

And here, you actually, truthfully do not want to know.

So, go ahead, cue up the sound of a mental rolodex spinning out while you start to list the very real, very valid, very adult reasons you should never, ever put your hands on her. (1) She's too young for you, (2) you're kind of a community figure, or at least someone who has to appear to be one, and more pertinently (3) she was your student not long enough ago - in your ethics class, the irony of which is not lost on you - and that makes it the kind of dirty, low thing you'd feel guilty for even masturbating to. Let alone actually attempt to live through, no matter how insistent some parts of you might be to the contrary, a point emphasized by the pressure of her finger against the dip just below your sternum.

"These... oh, how should I call them." Nana hums softly just before easing a bit of distance between the two of you, head tilting like she's in a trailer for this summer's romcom, and not, you know, trying to drag you into hell. "Filthy little fantasies?"

You're a high school teacher, interdisciplinary. Sometimes history, other times philosophy, you've also taught math - and once, egregiously, home economics when the faculty member whose usual duties consisted of teaching the class was out on a very sudden and scandalous maternity leave. But it's your love of literature that finds you in a bookstore near enough to the high school to sell more used copies of intro textbooks than actual novels.

You're paging through a book you'd say you're considering buying - if any of the store staff were to push the question onto you - when she appears at the other end of the fiction aisle.

You catch the look first of her dyed hair, this perfect shade of chocolate, to the edges, the fade-to-brown, cascading over where a more formal shirt would ostensibly have shoulders.

She smiles; it's pretty.

Then, you make the mistake of glancing down and seeing the modest rise of her chest beneath a crisp-collared sleeveless top; all your typical college-age tells but for the red flannel, rolled back down around her waist. Her fingers, long and thin, dangle from where a uniform button-down would taper off around her wrist, thumb rubbing lazily at her forearm. The briefest glimpse of her nails, all done up in acrylic - perhaps the most potent way to show contempt for an old dress-code.

You have, admittedly, also noticed the length (appropriately, the lack thereof) of her pleated skirt and those frilly stockings that ride so far up the creamy curves of her thighs that it has your stomach rolling and tightening when she shuts closed the book in her hands and says -

"Isn't it weird how most of the novels in the romance section are written by women?”

- she speaks with a slow deliberateness, like she'd only ever hoped to find one of her old teachers alone and slightly vulnerable in a used bookstore -

“Like, how do you think a man would even go about writing those kinds of stories?" She grins, because maybe this isn't really a question at all - not one meant for you, certainly. And for one wild moment, the rush of relief (she's not actually talking to you), then panic (she's actually talking to you.) surges through you.

But then the girl pushes another couple books along the shelf and continues.

"Because I'll tell you what, Professor - all this stuff," a flip-flip-flip of her fingertips against a leathery dustjacket, "about just feeling it, not being able to control it. It's all women, always women." Another wave of her hand to set another row of spines a-shuddering. "Do you ever think maybe people will get tired of listening to girls talking about feelings when what they really need to see is what guys would do?"

There are so many reasons you should turn and run.

So many little flags, flickering wildly in your mind. This is one of your students. Was it this fall? Maybe the last; she had sat front-center. Never slept in, was one of your best by several measures - not simply in regards to the simple repetition of classroom work, but by her insistence on getting in the kind of heated discussion where one might dig their fingers through the innards of your lectures. Not just good - fantastic.

"Nayeon," you end up saying, flat as your suddenly paper-dry mouth can make it - with just the tiniest hint of unease. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

And almost as if she knows that you're trying not to let your eyes dip any lower than the collar of her shirt, her shoulders do that lilting little move (hiking up and away just so), the one that your girls tend to learn a long, long time before your boys ever manage to figure out. She laughs out this pleasant sound, adds: "not that long, sir."

"Well," you're clearing your throat, looking around the bookstore like it might contain a way out, and eventually landing somewhere on her skirt, "you know how fast it all goes."

"Nana, by the way."

“I’m sorry?”

“Nana,” She gently corrects you again with this mischievous slant to her smile, and you start remembering: all the gossip and rumors, how she was being courted by these talent-scouts and labels. A prodigy, or as close to it as anyone from this town could ever get.

Your eyes are starting to sting again when she, this perfect-fit model of your worst impulses, runs her hand through her hair, tugging at the roots a little bit, a silver wristwatch falling slightly down the perfect length of her forearm. It almost hurts not to reach out and steady her. And it definitely shouldn't, but it has you breathing a bit faster. The rationalization: you are a man, and there is a perfectly ordinary part of you that might be aroused by any amount of smooth, inviting skin. That's fine. You're fine.

"Just for the record," Nana starts, still looking like she wants to put a hand forward and hook one long fingernail into the buttons of your shirt. "You were, like, absolutely one of my favorite teachers."

"I guess it's nice to hear I'm not a complete lost cause," you say.

She snorts. "Oh, definitely not." And maybe because, after all of the years you have been teaching these soon-to-be lawyers, politicians, and doctors, you've come to not look down on them for saying the wrong things so much. Though you do envy their absolute ability to say the wrongest of things - just so - just on purpose.

"Are you," you nod at the thick stack of paperback novels that she is still holding, and with which, suddenly, she's bashful and flustered - this perfect shade of pink blossoming through her cheeks. "Actually here to buy those?"

The response: a demure little shrug. A drawl. "We all have our vices, professor."

"I'm not your teacher anymore," and remembering at the last moment, "Nana, you can drop the honorifics, please."

She holds a book out, cover turned toward you, and your mind stalls - even your fingers slip a little where they are resting on the spine of your own paperback purchase. The title is an affront to literacy, and the art on the cover seems to have been produced only with stock photos, gaudy.

"Have you heard of it?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Well," she laughs and has the courtesy not to lay it at your expense, "it is so good." Then, without missing a beat, she twists her lips together, and finds the book flush against your chest. "I'm sure it beats reading textbooks and essays about the merits of Locke and Hobbes' life-after-death stuff all day, anyway. An hour if you can spare the time? I'd love to hear your thoughts on it"

And - ah, there it is. The push.

There is a zero percent chance that, after any of this, things will end neatly for either of you.

You still wonder, slightly, how long Nana will keep up the charade before breaking character - because there's no way in hell she doesn't see what she's doing: wrapping you around her pretty fingers, her shiny, manicured nails, twisting every chance you get to reject her into an excuse to linger that little bit longer.

But it's well over an hour spent at the cafe-end of the bookstore, where she orders an iced-coffee and fills you in on the details you don't really need to hear, what she's been up to these last couple semesters - playing twenty questions; questions about other faculty members, the school, if the school newspaper is still anything like it used to be (for the record: no), then coming back to if you've been seeing anyone lately. That last one slips in so naturally you can't stop yourself from taking a slow drag off of the straw in your drink and answering: "not recently."

Because no honest deed goes unpunished, or however the saying goes.

"Hey," her hands splay out over the tabletop, pushing the cold, condensing water of her glass, smudging where a finger drags a line through the pool.

Maybe she knows. How you're already caught, and there's no going back, which is to say you're perfectly free to watch, hungrily, where her throat moves, and then where her lips part.

"I’ve got the perfect thing for that," and for one unhinged, hysterical moment you picture it, Nana: lying back against a counter or maybe in the cushions of a sofa, panties thrown carelessly over her shoulder; heaving out this soft, heady gasp. You: pushing inside of her for the very first time, both of your legs bracing, the heel of her foot pressed into the small of your back - but before you can convince yourself that she can't be talking about that, and just barely before the air gets stuck in the back of your throat and you realize that you might be so thoroughly, tragically fucked -

"Read this." A snap back into the here and now. She is looking at you very pointedly, not naked - but beautiful and perfect as she leans a bit into the table and crosses those lovely, lovely legs of hers, and tilts the copy of that awful, awful filth at you.

"Nana, respectfully, this is drivel," you say, immediately and plainly, listening to Nana laugh out loud as you glean more than you need to know from the info on the inside cover. "They've crossed like five major genre boundaries for a hook-up. Why should anyone bother?"

"Come on." She waves it off with a careless gesture of her hands. "There's plenty of things to like. Maybe you should give it a chance - broaden your horizons, teach. Besides - the sex scenes?" She rolls her shoulders with the same shrug you remember watching so carefully all those times she made her way, out of the hallways and back into that front-and-center-seat she was always occupying whenever the bell rang. "So filthy. I can show you one of my favorites."

"Doesn't really seem like appropriate reading material for -"

"You said it yourself," her voice has a bright, saccharine tone, just on the right side of strained. And between sips of that straw stuck in the purse of her pert, little mouth, she draws that next sentence - the ice cracking, thinning under your feet -

"Not my teacher anymore."

Nana smiles; this brash, cock-sure thing that reminds you, as you try to clear your throat of the nerves making a bed there: you are actually so, so fucking gone on her. So far gone it hurts, when, with a flourish and a bounce and a complete, reckless lack of discretion, she starts paging through the first chapters.

"Who says you can't study these kinds of stories on an academic level? Think about it: sex sells. Whoever ends up writing, it's a whole lot easier and a hell of a lot cheaper than trying to do it all yourself." She looks up, this mischievous twinkle in her eyes, as she angles her fingertips down on the book and opens it - page after page of very obviously poorly-written sex. You look, not even consciously.

But of course, her fingertips drift lower and lower along the pages until it's evident: she doesn't have an exact page in mind, but only a particular passage -

"Here. Let me show you, just one."

"Alright, fine," you start - trying for an effect of exasperation, something to mitigate this god awful throbbing, "whatever - you get one, one sample paragraph and I'll, you know, whatever."

"Yeah, you'll definitely see. Just trust me. Just the one."

She drums her long, gorgeous nails against the table, then eases back with a finger highlighting the text.

You're screening and scanning the words as she tells you about the heroine in the story: a pretty girl who comes down with a bad case of infatuation for her teacher - unrequited, of course. And then, into a passionate affair, of course; all the most raucous, explicit details laid out over the table for everyone else to hear. She says it is about as nonchalantly as though she had been reading you the daily weather forecast and not an elaborate metaphor for - and here, you stop her.

"He cums on her desk?"

"Fucking hot, right?" She nearly snorts and gestures you onward, her eyebrows jumping - go on, go on.

So, you skim along: a heavy rush of nausea (alongside another) pulsing down around your gut at the thought of actually doing such a thing, your ears going hot and your legs crossing on instinct. There's not so much a breath of hesitation as Nana, cool, unfazed, and utterly unaware of the uncomfortable churning of your stomach and the simultaneous thrumming in your cock, takes another deep swig of coffee.

She hums, thoughtful. "Honestly? Kinda wished it happened to me like that. You were a good, good teacher, professor. I wouldn't have minded your hands all over me." You hear her laugh, and the entire universe collapses like the end-days. You are struck down with feverish conviction: this girl is the worst.

"Anytime you wanted," she adds, so carelessly.

There's a clunking sound, of glass on wood; a half a second where you almost lose control over yourself.

“Nayeon,” you let slip, the old name - a mistake of an invitation she grasps like a weapon. All coming to a glint in her eye that says she knows how you see it, how you can still picture her sitting with her hands folded over the skirt of her uniform, chest rising and falling beneath her cotton shirt. Studious, taking notes, acting every bit the naive sweetheart everyone believed her to be.

You shudder out some pretense of composure and settle back a few inches as she continues to coax a reaction out of you, prodding: "how many girls did you make confess back then, hm? Did it ever do them any good?"

"Dial it back, Nana."

Her expression is all feigned, gentle surprise. "But sir," she looks at you so innocently, "you said I should drop the honorific."

You want to argue that, you also want to tell her off for being such a brat - to demand that, instead, she cut the shit, sit back, and remember who you both are, but when, with a wink and a smirk, she's getting up out of her seat, Nana sets a gentle, reassuring hand on your shoulder as she pushes her chair back beneath the table. You get onto your feet, and when the two of you are stood close together like this - she's really and truly that much smaller than you remember. Waist so tiny you think you could almost, almost wrap two hands all the way around her; skirt rising all too easily when she tosses her weight between her heels.

"I hope you know what you’re doing," you tell her, sternly - the voice of a teacher whose patience is running thin.

But no matter where you look, the consequences are dire and immediate: an abject fascination, a kind of debilitating greed; the absolute fucking loss of ability to look her directly in her eyes. Not like Nana isn't staring right through you. There's no doubt some part of her relishes the feeling.

"Hey, what do I know?" This sweet, demure-like chuckle follows. "It's just porn, right?”

Eventually, Nana says to call it a night because the sun's long set into the horizon and the chill starts getting at the both of you.

She tells you while you're packing up your belongings to come by again sometime, her voice teasing as she explains that you should pick out a new novel to read for your benefit.

Which is possibly the ideal outcome, all things considered, if it wasn't for the way she found herself in your hands just a few paces into the parking lot - no one around to catch you, where you're gripping fast onto her wrist and pressing the lines of her body into door of your car, looming and ready to give a piece of your mind.

You know what you ought to say - things like don't bother, you've enjoyed her company, she's fun and sweet, and in a dozen different ways: be a good girl, and go home. You had your fun, didn't you? But she's practically begging, those huge, wide doe eyes that stare straight up into your soul.

"C'mon,” her voice lilts into a deeper, more purposeful register, “you wouldn't turn down a student on her way home, would you?

(This fucking girl.)

She speaks of propriety, like you aren't a man of your own principles - like you aren't reaching down to press a kiss to the swell of her lips like she undoubtedly deserves. To lick into her mouth and pull and kiss and bite until she's trembling, teeth caught in a delicate whimper. Or, that you aren't running your hands down her sides to find the backs of her knees and draw them upward, hooking your hips flush against hers.

She's all too breathless, watching you draw off her lips, fingers fast in your shirt, your hair - holding you close.

Then finally, a true, honest reflection of your heart. Nothing less than sheer and utter capitulation: "let me take you home."

Nana just nods before wrapping her arms around your neck and kissing you again.

It's definitely on you for expecting anything different, but Nana fucks like she talks.

Conceited. Brash. A little selfish.

The girl's sitting there on her kitchen counter with one leg hooked over your shoulder. She's stripped herself down to near nothing save for those fuck-off ridiculous panties: slick, shiny with a thick strip of satin between her lips, complete with white lace frills and all; the same ridiculous pattern as the thigh-high stockings clinging tight around the soft-gentle fat of her legs and the lace top of her garter. Her pussy - all tight and pink and soaked - has left this shimmering, shiny mess that's trailing down the insides of her thighs.

Your fingers are in the elastic of her panties, near bruising the curve in her waist where she's rocking, flushed and keening against your grip.

You tell her, "take these off."

"Off?" She repeats it back to you with the same little grin: playing dumb, the smart, charming ass she's been all night.

"I'd tell you what I really want to do to you," you start, pushing your fingers in a little harder, eliciting another pretty moan. "But I'm really, really sure you can fill in the blanks yourself.

"I hope you're not planning on being rough with me," she teases, running her hands all through your hair as she pulls herself against you - and of course, it's her audacity to insist, "no marks." She drops a chaste little kiss along the underside of your jaw. "At least, nothing that might show up on a camera."

Someone with a little less baggage might have done just that. Might have jerked her panties down a couple inches further - ripped the cloth, exposed her even more. You might have followed the waistline further along the perfect round of her ass, found those dips and dimples that, maybe, no one else has ever gotten to explore. You may have grasped at the ends of her hair and gotten your fingers in her pussy without ceremony - driven Nana to the very brink of her climax just before palming two greedy handfuls of that ass - shoving yourself right there between her lips and, lost to shame, put a fucking kid in her.

All the things she must be dying for you to do.

"Something the matter?" She pushes her mouth into yours for a kiss that has all the urgency of a lazy Sunday morning. Your tongue against hers, languid and gentle at first; wet-sloppy, kissing and sucking on her bottom lip. You can feel her smirking when she says, "don't tell me you've forgotten how."

It's a lot, the effort you're putting in not to crumble - to crack at her taunts, snap your restraint, the temptation. You just wanna grab her pretty tits in both hands, shake her, and say: "shut the fuck up." But no - even in your wildest fantasy, you want to hear her first - beg you to make a wreck of her. So you force the words between your lips, dry and cracking:

"Not a fucking chance."

A laugh. "Guess I'm in good hands, then. Have to admit," Nana slides her hands down to hook under your own, bringing them lower. She grinds your fingers in slow circles over that one, aching, perfect little bud - a shock that has her curling tight inward until she's whining, clutching at her waist. "Not the - not the situation I had in mind."

Nana shifts her weight a bit more on one hip, guiding you through rubbing along the entrance to her slit - sloppy with precum, silky and aching - and when you place just the lightest pressure over all that hot skin, she opens her mouth:

"Ah."

Her eyes, her hair, her fucking mouth - you can’t look away - she’s so gorgeous it hurts.

Even the way she pants; the perfect furrow between her brows. And then, you dip a finger inside her, just to the first knuckle. It’s enough to make her whine, all shaky and high.

"Go on then, with how you’d pictured it," you press, already easing your digit in and out; slow, slick pumps that she is growing hotter, needier around. "I'm sure you've touched yourself to it more than a few times. The details and - stuff - must have been vivid."

"You haven't the slightest clue."

A brief kiss. You coax another shy sound from her, drawing a long sigh against her mouth -

"Try me, Nayeon."

"This is a lot closer to the truth than you’d think, professor." This time, no correction, she just smiles wide and tosses her head back, asking, sweetly, as if to absolve you of the responsibility. "Do you have any idea how long I've thought about it? You, me - us?"

Nana slips a finger between the buttons of your shirt and starts to pull.

On that detail, you actually, truthfully do not want to know.

"These... oh, how should I even call them." She hums softly just before easing a bit of distance between the two of you, head tilting like she's in a trailer for this summer's romcom, and not, you know, trying to drag you into hell. "Filthy little fantasies?"

"You know," you start. And by this point, her cunt's that much tighter. You've managed two fingers now, but no further, and she's making these desperate, punched-out gasps. Her clit's a swollen pink nub, jutting out from its soft hood. "I really had you pegged all wrong."

"Not - not at all. You can fuck me just fine, trust me - ah. Please, you can fuck me anyway you want."

And here, you grab a little higher on her hips, pinching her on the outside of a thigh, and begin working your fingers fast. You've never cared much for teasing, not really, but something about the way she squirms in your grip, tries to lean up and grasp onto your shoulders with shaking hands, it gets you smiling. It gets you grinning, even, especially the way she makes these pretty noises: a long, desperate little, "ah," at each press and thrust, her breath going high and uneven.

"Listen, Nana -" She squeals out loud when you push your fingers just a little deeper, a little bit harder. "I'm not going to talk about what a slut you've been today or how badly I want to spread you wide open," you can already tell it's affecting her: the sudden change, the subtle hitch in her breathing, the tremor where her thighs press together. "Tell me about you, about your little ideas. Let me help."

"Wouldn't be fair." Her pussy's getting tighter, urgent with want. And still:

"C'mon now. Humor me a little. There was probably-" you say, sliding down that ridiculous pair of underwear along her ass, tugging them over the curves of her legs - so slow and easy, all while you're not bothering with easing off. Nana moans again; voice pitched. "Lots. Lots and lots of dirty things - and, I'm willing to bet my career that they made you a hot, mess - an awful, soaking fucking wreck. Who could've guessed? You, of all people, with just the right kind of teacher's-pet-appeal, hm?"

And you meant it to be a joke, just some ribbing. But the question has her immediately tensing, looking at you very intently, no trace of shame as she snaps back -

"Your mouth." She rocks forward. "Your fucking mouth."

You shouldn't keep touching her, you shouldn't keep staring, you shouldn't push her flat on her back and shove your face right into her cunt, you should pull away before this goes too far - it shouldn't be your fingers drawing out sopping-wet gasps out of her pussy, nor should you press your tongue to her cunt, your mouth to all that delicate flesh and, at your first taste, shiver.

Nana laughs: shaky, nervous. Then, your fingers sink back into her pussy alongside your tongue, your lips, the way even your hot breath against her aching pussy has her all stunned, breathless - and -

"Please."

- right before she breaks off into a beautiful sound that catches her hard in the chest.

(A sound like you’re all she could ever want in this life, maybe the next; it’s this wordless plea.)

"Hah, I had - ah, had so much - hah - dirt on you, used to masturbate thinking - ah," and there, she arches her spine, forcing a sigh out, "thinking about how you might punish me." She laughs - nearly choking. "How you might break down all your veneer of being a good, moral man and fuck me raw and rough and - ah - fuck. Oh god, fuck."

You twist your fingertips up just so, right against this perfect spot in her, and all the sudden the entire line of her body seizes - stiffens up, the muscles in her thighs twitch as you both moan through the moment, the spasms reverberating in your own ears, loud and unashamed, right against her wet, wet clit. Your fingers are fucking and fucking and fucking away in her cunt, harder and faster and sloppier, every word, every groan, every gasped breath only making it easier to forget. To give in. And with every heavy slap and squelch of your fingertips digging in as deep as her body allows - you're sending her that much closer.

You pull back long enough to bite out: "cum whenever you want, Nana.”

She can’t, she can’t, she can’t, is what she’s trying to say, bracing against how your tongue moves around her clit, and she knows, there’s no use fighting it.

A kiss against her swollen mound and she writhes. “There you go sweetheart, cum for me.”

Nana comes undone. Gradually at first, then vaulting over that edge all at once. She lifts and lowers her hips - pushing your fingers into the smooth, velvety muscles of her cunt; rocking up and up again. It's a torturously slow kind of grinding, and her feet find purchase on either side of you as her toes curl, one heel digging into your shoulder. An assurance; a promise; a lifeline; that she might tremble and shake through it, moaning.

“Fuck,” and, “god,” and, “you’re gonna make me-” slip past her lips alongside all the assured gasped-out cries for relief - the orgasm sweeping through her, tearing her apart.

Back pitching, shoulders narrowing, face twisting, cinching tighter and tighter -

Until she collapses.

Until it’s over.

As she lays there, chest heaving, arm draped carelessly across her forehead and half over a kitchen cutting board - her thighs splayed open, fucked and spent - she's so, so beautiful.

And it’s in that sort of fucked-up-noodly-state where she just slides right into your arms - those long, slender legs wrapping tight around your middle. "Here's the deal," you say, grabbing hold of her hips and steadying her, as best as either of you can.

"Hm." This lazy, sated look, the way her tongue's dragged out - slow and slick - across the top of her teeth and bottom of her lips. "Go ahead, sir. I'm listening."

The lip service - that coy little appeal to authority that maybe you’re actually plenty fond of - it makes you stop for the barest of moments. This girl, she's unreal. How hard could you ever be asked to resist her?

She lifts a brow. "Professor."

So you continue:

"I'm going to get out of these clothes, and we are going to see what happens after that - if you have a preference for the bed or the sofa, now's your chance to pipe up. Or else -"

"Or else-" She repeats, shifting her weight around again. You can feel how she adjusts her heels to hang higher up your ribs, rocking her weight against your abdomen, against your cock - and the instinctual twitch that runs through your spine is turgid and rough. Like a shot. If it had a smell, it'd probably remind you of gasoline.

And then, maybe just to rile you up even more: "the dining room table makes a good impression of a teacher's desk, no?"

You slide your hand along the backs of her thighs until you have a good, tight, high hold on them and pick her up, leaving the panties, the stockings, all of it down where they can gather dust or whatever - she giggles, and tightens her hold around you like she doesn't need to worry about falling.

"I'd rather fuck you into a mattress to be perfectly candid."

Nana throws back her head and laughs - this real, honest-to-goodness peal of laughter, a hint of playfulness where there was usually just a practiced ease. "Oh. So forward."

(In all likelihood, you're both going to hell, and on the off chance you meet down there, you figure you'll fuck her then, too.

You've read the myths, the Greek tragedies, the ones that have these gods descending from the heavens on human women, for pleasure and nothing but, you've read those stories and plenty more - the details don't matter: it's always a bad, bad end for everybody involved.)

She takes you upstairs. And the two of you fall through the doorway to her bedroom, stumbling all the way.

Her apartment is simple and clean in the way all young adults try to emulate, all white countertops, but with pictures hanging in little, neat rows on the walls and the space void of anything with some sort of character or history.

You know because you're fumbling toward a dresser or desk or bookshelf in an attempt to orient yourselves, bumping and tussling, half-blind, on your path forward and all of a sudden there's a goddamn framed photo in your hand - not of her family, thank god. Though just about every other person in the picture is familiar to you, you remember every single one - but all you're capable of focusing on is Nana, Nayeon: not quite the same. The same glint in her eyes, the way her smile has a timeless kind of quality, the faint dimples in her cheeks.

And some wicked part of you is all too willing to ignore the whole timeline of events that has led up to you, Nana, like this: you want to pull her hair. You want to shove her around like she doesn't matter - is in any way disposable or replaceable; the most selfish parts of you wishing you could keep her pinned down by her slender neck; pressing a palm, bruising, into her collarbone as you start to work at your belt buckle and slacks with your other hand.

It's hard, getting a grip on yourself as Nana, sliding onto her bed and rolling across the sheets, pulls her stockings down the length of her legs - only stopping herself long enough to meet your eyes. Her throat bobbing.

“Of course,” she says, because your cock is hanging out by that point, straining and a little pent-up. "I fucking knew you would have a perfect cock."

"Flattery or sincerity?"

"Um, let's say both." She shifts around the pillow - that sweet little pout on her lips. Her gaze dropping from your mouth and running all along the length of your torso, lower and lower. Like her hands. And when her eyes flick up to meet yours, just when you're stroking at your cock, base and shaft, teasing yourself, well past the point of pretense, a devious smile spreads wide across her pretty, beautiful face. The implication: you aren't leaving here until you're cumming inside her.

And with a glimmer in her eyes, the sheer audacity, her fingertips ghost the underside of your cock as she draws up toward the head, "you're going to ruin me with this thing. You know that right?"

"A bit dramatic."

Nana moves to rest with the tops of her knees at the edge, her chin resting against the insides of her wrists, elbows propped up - poised, playful, everything she should be as the both of you regard each other a moment longer. "Can you blame me? It's not just that it's huge, I mean - I've barely even gotten a hold of it, and yet... god," she snorts. Her eyelids are heavy, mouth curved, almost a snarl as she drags her bottom lip through the grip of her teeth and sinks down onto the mattress.

"Say something filthy again," and this is a test, this is Nana testing you to see what exactly you'll get away with.

(Hint: it's a whole lot.)

She sighs. The image of indigence, innocence, everything pure and good you couldn't hope for. "Should I suck it or not? Or maybe, I don't know. Would you prefer me to beg for it first, ask if you'll put it in? Like, I think if you ordered me to put it in my mouth, right now, I wouldn't be able to say no."

"Really," the most sarcastic answer.

"Really," she continues. "For instance. If you came over here right now and guided me up and onto your dick and told me, specifically, that you were going to face-fuck me? I couldn't say no. No sir."

You could have her any damn way. You could have her, and you both know it.

"So tempting," you tease, mostly in earnest, "maybe another time, when my self-control isn't quite so lacking."

Nana hums a low, flippant sort of noise - like: whenever you're ready - and just how much trouble it gets you in, the mere suggestion, is what she is banking on.

"Hey," is her invitation, "I won't beg yet. You still want me to put my mouth all over it," and to emphasize, she slips her fingers between the plump pillows of her lips, smiling at how that makes you reach over the nightstand, accidentally pulling open a drawer, possibly reaching for the first aid kit, "or would you rather watch me stuff all these fingers in my wet, little hole."

A sharp inhale: it really would be fun, probably, but you can't take it.

"Nana," this voice, gravelly-ragged and harsh, "if you're planning to make me snap, you are, without question, on the right track."

"Then before that happens," she says, pulling you down into the bedsheets beside her. Your body flush against hers, the beat of her heart loud against your own; this gorgeous, pristine girl, so nakedly giving - this is an honor and a curse all rolled up together, no doubt.

And after a hot, wet kiss: "fuck me like I always thought you would."

(She was made to be like this; it's the only explanation.

Made for wanting. Made for fucking. Made to be loved and made to have her cunt fucked full - ruined by your fingers, your tongue, your cock. This absolutely perfect body, and all the delicious parts of her; this thing of desire, bashful and coy and that deserves all the world and, having none of the grace or courtesy to actually beg, orders, like she always knew she could:

"Like, right fucking now."

Or else.)

Then you're there - her hot mouth, her cunt, your fingers digging in bruising-tight all along the curve of her thighs where they meet her ass, hips, thighs, waist. She's pumping her soft palm and delicate fingers, slick with her spit and yours around the length of you and this isn't going to last long; not that there's any doubt you're going to leave her sore. But still, you drag the head of your cock across the swollen lips of her pussy, down through the plump swell of her clit until it rests where the ridge just begins and every slide, every pressure along every inch of your cock, the thought of being enveloped entirely in all that silky warmth is nearly the end of you.

A whimper, "professor."

You wrap your hands tighter around the smooth, firm muscles in her thighs; dragging your fingers back and forth across the supple skin there - just firm enough to elicit a reaction from the tension in her legs, until you have her flipped over on her stomach. Because if you're going to fuck her properly, it's going to be with her face buried deep into a pillowcase and you perched above her, holding her down against the sheets.

You watch her get her elbows underneath her, laying almost flat. Watch her trace the shape of her own jaw, her nose, her neck - the smooth expanse of her chest - as you straddle her thighs. With her ass pointed right up at you and the heel of her ankle gently grinding into the underside of your leg, you groan, placing both hands just above her ass. And once you're gripping the whole shape of her, you push your cock into her, just an inch, listening to the shift in her breathing.

She shudders, "don't tease - oh, please, sir-"

"Is this what you expected, Nana?" You grab onto her hair. Then again, when she tries to get her hands on herself. Her shoulders are high, tight. You just don't give her a chance; pushing yourself another inch, a couple. The pace, so gradual she starts making these soft, little breathless sounds as you stretch her tight pussy open. A few moments when she stops trying to bury her noises, her gasps - stops trying to angle her hips or squeeze or resist the thick shape of your cock where it is so, so hot and full inside of her - and there you stop. "What is it you had in mind, hm?"

"Ngh - oh."

Her cunt's clamping tight around just the first few inches of you. The tightness, the wet heat is staggering; how it pulls and begs with the words she seems reluctant to spill out.

So - you lift a hand, bringing it back down again onto the pale, rounded flesh of her ass with a smack, a gasp, and this wet sound from the sopping heat of her pussy, all aching and sobbing, "don't, fuck, stick it - fuck, put it - just. Just fucking get on top of me and pin me down - make it hard for me to breathe - do it, just. Like I, fuck, like I always wanted, sir, please-"

And you sink all the way in.

"Fuck." She bites into those consonants, a whole-body motion that pulls at the tension in her spine, the muscles in her legs. But her hips angle right up, and she presses her ass into the hollow of your abdomen and says, "thank you. Thank you. God."

"Don't get lazy on me," you say, grinding the tip of your cock in little circles; pulling it out and angling it down until it's prodding at all the right places to make her arch and shiver.

"Please," she says again, louder this time, almost a moan. "That. Fuck. Yes. It's."

"Yes, yes, I know. Nana, you-"

"Just use me. Whatever you like," she pants; then, once you've pulled yourself out to the tip, slowly filling her again, "use me like a fucktoy, alright. Because - fuck," Nana shivers, pushing her hips into yours. Her shoulders lower, as if by degrees, "please. Use me. Make it rough. Please, professor - use me however you want, I don't care - anything's fine with me - use me, as long and as much as you need, I. Please."

The real difference here, beyond anything else, is that this is no longer the game it was; the very instant she was sprawled across the mattress with a line of drool dripping into the sheets, all her bright, polished glory has vanished, leaving this bare edge of her exposed - the girl who lives solely to be fucked and used by your cock, her cunt leaking, begging for more. Reduced to the basics and nothing else.

"Your fucking cunt, Nana, the goddamn clench - you feel - it's-" (So fucking good, is what you can’t quite say, because she’s tight and wet and her tiny pussy is quivering like mad every time you bathe your cock in its scorching heat. Over and over.) It’s hard to think; you’re truly - truly - fucking her, but you can’t ignore the tautness in her spine either, bent below you. There are probably tears beading down her cheeks, but there's no helping the raw instinct screaming through the core of her being, pleading with you to pull yourself free, before sinking hilt-deep into her again, again, again - to a chorus of sloppy, loud, nasty, fucking whimpers and moans.

Like music.

It's easy after all, how her pussy gives way to you. How she molds around you - sleeves onto you like a glove - like there was only one cunt in the world you should ever be fucking up and fucking apart.

"It's incredible. Fuck. Just that perfect."

Nana, as best as she can, trying to stay steady, braced against her hands and knees, is raising her hips.

But it's clear with the way she's slipping all over, slicking the sweat off her palms and rocking her ass back into your thrusts, a cry falling out of her, unbidden, when she speaks and not.

"Please," she pants, through tears probably, this breathy-shivering. A renewed enthusiasm for your grip on her - where, in another place, you'd worry about leaving marks behind - for the feeling of your weight slamming down into her, driving the air from her lungs.

The sheets are a crumpled mess, pillows knocked from the mattress, where the two of you are shaking it apart.

You're pulling her apart, slowly, thrust by thrust into her sopping cunt, and in a promise of how you'll put her back together, you get your mouth on her shoulders, her neck, kisses in her hair, behind her ear - Nana just whimpers, curling her toes and ankles along the backs of your knees, her face against the pillow and gasping, "thank you - thank - thank-"

And when your palm smacks against the generous swell of her ass, again, she keens so perfectly for you.

It's a breathtaking sight, so good, so perfect: her flawless ass pitched high, round and flushed pink. The flutter of her eyelashes and the tears and drool. The outlines of her pale white cheeks sent into ripple after ripple, and then the way you can slide one hand forward between her shoulder blades and slip it into her hair, nails raking her scalp, grabbing a handful of hair in your fist and tilting her face - to the side, enough for her cheek against the pillow and the way her hips try to press against yours; try to chase the pleasure; this brash, gorgeous, slim-waisted, well-curved, exquisite young woman - like everything.

"Please," is all she says as you fit your chest up tight to her back and mouth at her neck - lick all along the sweat. "Please."

You can't take it anymore, can't keep watching this masterpiece, can't stand the molten heat wrapped around your cock every time the drag in and out of her pussy pulls sets every nerve on fire. Right in her ear: "I'm cumming, Nana, I'm cumming inside this tight, little pussy."

A short gasp, "yeah."

"Yeah. Inside, Nana. Cum inside, you -" You twist your fingers against her scalp and find purchase, an excuse - a means to yank her head around and lean into her, teeth against skin, that familiar coiling in your gut and the burning sensation that flows right alongside every slap and smack of her hips on your skin.

"Fuck me." You watch her bite down, swallow a sound, try to say: "fuck your load so deep inside me it’ll be all I think about for weeks, let me feel it, all that hot, all that sticky, fucking cum"

And you drag your hips, these final, punishing drags through her drenched cunt. Her fingers are white knuckled and fisting the sheets, until the very second you've pressed every ounce of your own body's worth into her own, when you're collapsing her spine and pushing her face into the bedspread, this wave rushes through your ears like the buzz and hum of insects and waves and things out of sync - the high, the peak -

And then:

Sobering, subjugating silence.

In fact, you're shuddering; You're cumming, spilling pools of thick cum deep inside of her. It's all in that warm, filthy sensation, a heady, hazy, desperate thrill when her own cunt seizes in its climax around you, trembling, throbbing, quivering, clenching; drawing everything out and taking your cock deeper - even while the whole of her is thrashing and bucking, all of this messy with her pleasure and her voice caught up, writhing and breathless.

"God-" is the last thing out of her mouth before you can kiss it quiet, tug on her lower lip and open her up like a present - messy and breathy, crying out, you're making this mess inside, this beautiful fucking mess - as the whisper you feel against your lips:

"Inside me, like that."

As you groan, deep and hot, "filthy fucking cumslut-"

Right on the verge, riding out every twitch of your cock and each flex of your hands at the skin around her ass, her waist, back and shoulder blades; even after you've caught your breath, you keep pumping more and more inside of her, you don't stop, won't, and even when you manage it, pulling out the head of your cock - you can feel every slick detail - just the slit and rim, resting the throbbing head of your cock at her swollen little mound, feeling the length of her fucked-out pussy spasm at the emptiness and trying to grasp around nothing - empty, tight and aching, sopping.

There's her hips, just this, right there; the line, the silhouette. Her thin waist and the curvy swell of her ass, jutting out straight - the cream-colored flesh dusted pink. The lithe, soft line of her stomach and the insides of her thighs a little farther along, sweaty and inviting.

She's so pliant in your grip, even though she's trying her best to curl herself backward - to angle your spent cock back into the ready, welcoming warmth of her slick, wet pussy - and once the afterglow has begun to wear away, that same greed and yearning takes its rightful place. A glimmer in her eyes. The unmistakable need and drive.

"One more," she says, wiggling her hips back into your stomach. "For me."

(The truth: you can't refuse her, not as she bites her lip and twists, all that soft hair splayed across her face, stuck to her tear-damp skin.

One more, because you both still want it. One more, because in the dim glow and evening air of her bedroom, everything that happens now matters just as much as anything that happened before.

One more, because you need her again.)

When she wakes in the dark, you figure her bed will be empty.

Nana will realize that you're gone. Of course you’ll be - it was never going to go differently; the sex had to end at some point. After all, if you stayed, eventually she'd start saying something you'd find a fault in or your skin would be so sensitive she couldn't stand not running a finger up your spine and maybe kissing your hip.

The reasons to go always outnumbered the reasons to stay.

The world would catch up and someone would find out and that's the sort of gossip that might leave both of your careers in shambles. Or else, you'd do something you couldn't come back from, the moment the heat of the sex left your body and her cunt, god, her perfect little cunt was spent - slackening - and the moments-after-haze, her legs locked up and her arms a bit sore, would clear up. Then you'd look at her, or else the shame would win out - the guilt and you'd call it quits. She won’t blame you. She can't.

But then again,

Her heart won't fall completely to pieces, because:

You've stayed. And it isn't an easy position, even if she is easy.

Here she is, though: sleeping on her side with her wrists crossed in front of her face - peaceful and quiet, probably tired enough to sleep without dreams. The dark has long since settled across her bedroom, save the pinpricks of stars in the sky out her window and a sliver of moonlight. You can see her, or you could reach out and run your hands all along her calves and thighs, but you don't.

Nana's shoulders slump forward in the faintest of sighs, and there it is - the slow, gentle swell and fall of her chest.

Here's how you got here:

In this scandal-in-waiting of a relationship. Here's the stupidest possible path, where a bright-eyed student with a crush fucks her older professor just once, and somehow you both find yourselves coming back for more, like maybe your very, very bodies belong together - a maddening compulsion.

Even once you've managed to work through the idea of your cum all inside of her, a seedy, twisted corner of your mind murmurs how it makes the most sense. To stick your cock inside of her again.

Where she can show you the way it can look; the mess and the texture of the slick, white spill - dribbling out of her pussy in the afterglow, onto her palm, and down the crevice in her ass and lower.

It's the phone calls probably - and not just the phone sex - late-night talking, conversation and every once in awhile, the kind of hot, hard fucking that gets you in trouble, but also a reason to be with each other again. Not just the quick fucks but the nice ones - the days, the late nights and mornings and what have you: all the casual intimacy of it. All the sweet nothings exchanged.

The after-sex cuddling, with her straddling your lap;

The sensation of her thighs sliding into place around the tops of your legs, her arms tucked around your neck;

The kisses you don't take and kisses you'd be okay with, all the promises made to love you as many times as necessary, however necessary, wherever.

That's all here too.

Again:

She is young. But, who the fuck are you to say? Who the hell can tell you she doesn't deserve the least rotten, least painful, most promising love she can find in this particularly fucked-up world?

Who else is going to keep the both of you safe and hidden?

And who else, despite everything, seems to like having a secret that they're sure only you know; every glance or accidental touch with her eyes brimming, alive, and the whole of her bent like a bow-string - all held back and wound-up tight.

To the point her spine will shiver and shake; you know how it can be.

"Are you actually going to buy those?" Nana asks one day, dangling on her toes, chin rested comfortably in the sweep of your shoulder.

When she crowds the swell of her hip and her breasts and her entire body into your back and snakes her arms around your shoulders, you think there's nothing else in the world you need.

"You called them drivel," she adds, almost pouting - which is a look you're slowly trying to inoculate yourself against because the moment it comes up, you have a knee-jerk reaction to drop anything and everything and carry her off someplace else. To have a place where she could, could, could -

"Hah," you roll your eyes, not taking the bait. There's a shelf-full of campy, smutty romance novels in the dollar bin. "It is. The story was less than complicated, but I couldn't figure out what the hell two or three characters' plotlines had to do with one another, and sometimes you just want a little guilty pleasure, you know?"

"Ooh. So," Nana smiles, the devious sort. "I guess there is some honesty in you after all."

"Come on, this one at least has an original story," and it is a shameless attempt, "plus-"

"I know, I know. Fine. And if it is so terribly bad, well, I suppose I can use your chest as a pillow to take a nap," she says, before throwing this particular glance over her shoulder.

The cashier doesn't need to ask if the two of you want your copies of 'Wild West of the Heart' or whatever-the-fuck this one is titled, scanned separately.

All of that, those paperback-cover love stories and TV drama plots, these are the sorts of things you do just for Nana; as the two of you wait in long lines, get carried along, get bumped and pushed, like every other ordinary-person thing you've done for her ever since.

("Honestly, this isn't my kind of thing either," you tell her in the aisle of a grocery store once. The fluorescent lighting only accentuates the blush high on her cheeks. "don't make me fuss over something like this."

"Have a little sympathy," she insists, nudging the handle of the shopping cart against the inside of your shins. "A girl like me isn't good for much else.")

It's not romance, really, that's such a fucked up way to go about describing any of it, but then there's Nana, bouncing on her heels and prattling on, this girl in the spring of her life who is full to the brim and bursting with the most chaotic and eclectic sorts of thoughts and passions -

So, what.

"Really," she adds - another side, another angle on an issue the two of you had an hour ago while cooking breakfast. "Just, think about it. Would you honestly put all this effort into somebody who doesn't make you laugh at least as much as they irritate you? Because like, you would never tolerate some self-obsessed jerk long enough to eat their burnt, terrible pancakes every day of the week."

"Fine. Maybe." You sit across the table. "You're right."

Nana blinks and this look of wonder crosses her face as she grins. A moment of triumph for her and that was more than the honest truth. It's still strange, admitting defeat in any argument here or there, or that the two of you make an actual decent couple - together. The kinds of things that come naturally to other people.

"Any more caveats to all of this, professor?"

"You’re gonna end up bent over that counter again if you keep pushing it, kid."

The both of you break out laughing and then you finish your coffee, or she stabs the last few pieces of cantaloupe on her plate, or you kiss her neck, and just -

Everything.

#wooah smut #nana smut #kwon nayeon smut #el7z up smut #kpop smut #male reader #capslocked kinkvember #woo ah smut #woo ah nana smut

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smusherina · 1 year ago

Text

yard work - chapter 2 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

chapter 1 / chapter 3

During the school day, she'd ignore you as usual. Wandering the halls of Northshore, you'd catch glimpses of her but no more than that. It actually felt like you were seeing less of her than usual. It was hard to avoid somebody in a school like Northshore, but somehow she managed it. You doubted it had anything to do with you specifically. She'd been acting off since you'd had dinner at the Georges'.

After school, those days you went to Regina's house to do their yard work, it was as if a switch had been flipped. Gretchen and Karen weren't around. Regina had taken her mom's place on the patio and bathed in the sun as you worked.

You hated to say it was distracting. Partly because the whole thing had thrown you off kilter, like why was she doing all this all of a sudden, and also because she was hot. There was no question about it. Regina George was hot.

You desperately tried maintaining focus on the chlorine you were pouring into the pool, pretending you weren't all too aware of Regina lying not too far away from you, in a skimpy hot pink bikini, large sunglasses covering her eyes.

"Regina! Oh, that's such a cute 'suit you got, where'd you get it?" You were distantly aware of Mrs George stepping through the sliding door to the backyard. Regina muttered something in return. You didn't have to look to see Mrs George wilt at her daughter's dismissal.

It pissed you off. Regina didn't have to entertain her mom's every whim, she could be a bit much, even you could admit that, but she didn't have to be so mean.

You walked over to them with the empty chlorine bag in hand. "Hey, Mrs George." You called as you approached. "Margaritas?"

"Hi, sweetie! I brought you two some, gotta stay hydrated in this hot weather. All virgin, of course!" Mrs George winked and offered up the tray she had in her hands. You smiled gratefully and took one of the glasses. You were actually quite thirsty and Regina's mom made the best (alcohol-free) cocktails.

"Thanks," You said before taking a sip. Mm, strawberry and basil. Yummy.

"Just leave it there, mom. She's gotta work and I'm busy." Regina pointed at the little table next to the sunbeds before directing her attention back to, uh, lying in the sun. She sure looked busy.

"Okay, honey." Mrs George smiled, but the chirp in her voice was strained. "You just call and I'll be right here, alright?" She looked from her daughter to you.

"You got it, Mrs George."

Once the older woman had ducked out of the door and closed it behind her, you turned to Regina.

"You don't need to be mean, y'know." You took a sip, watching the pink slush move through the swirly straw.

"Excuse me?" Regina craned her neck in your direction, looking very uncomfortable. You walked around to the sunbed next to hers and sat down facing her.

"She just brought us margaritas." You said, continuing to sip on your drink.

"Uh, yeah, and I'm busy." She huffed before reaching for her own drink. "Why she feels the need to bother me is beyond me."

"She's your mom and wanted to do something nice." You rolled your eyes, already sick of her attitude.

Regina didn't bother responding. You adjusted on the seat so you were sitting on it the right way, legs kicked up and leaned back. You decided to relax for a few minutes. It was still the beginning of the school year, September barely just started, so summer was still lingering warm in the air.

There was a robin's nest in one of the apple trees. Red-chested birds flew around, from their home branch to the bird pool, to somewhere you couldn't see and back. Soon it'd be apple picking season. For the last two years of high school Mrs George had given you maybe more than half the apples since she didn't know what to do with so much. Before that, it used to be you and Regina. Picking apples, sitting on the branches, peeling each and every one and boiling them into jam with obscene amounts of sugar. Looking back, you were pretty sure doing all those things without proper adult supervision was like tempting a tragic accident.

(To be fair, you had fallen out of those apple trees once before. You were maybe twelve and it was the middle of summer. You'd lost your balance and toppled onto your wrist. Regina had nearly fallen herself scrambling down to get you. She'd cried more than you and you were the one with a broken bone. She insisted you pick a pink cast. She was the first to sign it, too.)

Out in the sun, it was much hotter than under the partial shade in the yard. You chugged the rest of your drink before standing back up. You pulled off your shirt as you walked to the patio stairs, leaving on just a sports bra and your shorts.

"Jean shorts are so lame," Regina said behind you. You turned to look at her and found her looking at you from over her sunglasses. Her eyes raked over your body, no doubt judging how much weight you'd gained since she last saw you without clothes.

Fuck. Not like that. That sounded wrong. You had spent a lot of time at her pool, both of you in swimsuits, as kids. A totally normal, non-sexual setting.

You shrugged, pretending her wandering eye did not make you insecure. "I like my jorts."

"Your taste is questionable." Regina scoffed, a little smile playing on her lips. "At best." She added sassily. You had a feeling she was mocking you.

"Thanks!" You struck a little pose, cocking your hip and blowing a kiss her way, responding in an equally snarky manner. You knew you didn't stand up to her fashion standards. Loose jean shorts down to a little above your knees, basic brown slides, and now sans a raggedy, well-loved Queen tee was not exactly high couture.

"You're not cute, jorts." She leaned up on her elbows and pushed the shades up to her hair. "I think I saw this exact outfit on you, like, three years ago." She pretended to think, finger on her chin. "So, when we were thirteen..."

"Yeah, you probably did." You chuckled. "You also called me jorts three years ago. So, clearly, nothing's changed, right?"

You both damn well knew a lot had changed. Still, she entertained you with a seemingly genuine smile. You smiled back before turning away to retrieve some tools from the shed. There was a gap in the fence that needed fixing.

Then, for the following week and then some, as if the past years of her ignoring you hadn't happened at all, she started speaking to you. Not at school, though, never in public. Only Kylie and Mrs George were privy to your rekindled friendship. You weren't sure if you could even call it that. Was it friendship if it was conditional to time and place?

You couldn't find it in yourself to care too much, though. You had your own crowd at school. You had things other than the Georges' yard work to do. Sometimes you went skating with the guys, picked up shifts at the shop, did chores and yard work at home, played video games, and on rare occasions studied. You had a life outside of Regina George.

So what if when you fucked up a trick and looked around all frantic, checking that Regina hadn't suddenly spawned at the skate park and seen your epic fall. So what if you spent your work hours thinking about her, counting down the minutes until you got to clean the Georges' pool again. So fucking what you wanted to beat the shit out of Regina in Mortal Kombat.

Maybe you did care. You wanted to spend more time with her. Was that a crime? If you could talk during the several hours of the day, five days a week, that the two of you went to the same school, then that want would've abated. But you had to wait. Sometimes there were several days in a row that you barely got a glimpse of her.

You sounded pathetic. Gosh. You hadn't realized how much you missed her until you got a taste of what it was like to have her back. You couldn't even remember what had caused her sudden avoidance back then. Something with Janice and a sleepover. The details had gone blurry since then. You hadn't even been at the sleepover, but you'd heard something bad had gone down. Something that caused Janis 'Imi'ike to switch schools for the remainder of middle school.

Sighing, you let your pencil fall from your hand. You fucking hated algebra. Functional math, business math, that you could deal with, but derivatives and parables and all that stuff? No. Just no.

You rolled your chair back from your desk and decided it was high time for some relaxation. You walked across the hallway to the computer room, planning on fucking around on RuneScape.

Before you could get into gaming, though, you checked AIM and noticed you had a message. From Regina. What? You click the chat open and see that it's been sent a pretty long while ago.

> can i come over? daddys home

You stared at the uncharacteristic message. You two never spent time at your house back then. It was always empty and you didn't have the same fun things Regina did. Mrs George had been a significantly better cook, to add. Your toaster oven tater tots and dino nuggies couldn't compare.

But, hey, maybe this was the start of something new.

> sure > when? whenevr is fine w me

That could've all been one message but, well, here you were. You jumped in your seat when she responded almost immediately.

> omw

Shit. You shot up from the desk chair, sending it rolling to the other side of the room. You shut down the behemoth of a machine as fast as you could, which wasn't very fast, and shot down the stairs. The living room was a mess 'cause you'd spent the last few days pigging out in front of the TV, playing videogames and eating exclusively takeout.

You spent some time in the pantry trying to look for a garbage bag, time was running out, before rushing to the crime scene that was the couch. Styrofoam containers, probably some cutlery, empty bags of Cheetos and whatnot, empty cans, all that flew into the bag. You wouldn't have time to vacuum, so you just brushed the crumbs away into the couch cushions or onto the floor.

You were almost done when the doorbell rang. You had collected all the trash, but you still had to put away some of the still good leftovers. Didn't wanna waste those since you could eat it later.

"Hi!" You exclaimed, a little too riled up to seem sensible at the door. "I was just cleaning up."

"I see that." Regina drawled, eyeing the garbage bag as well as you. You'd completely forgotten about how you looked.

"Shit, sorry," You looked down at your body and the unfortunate clothes draped over it. Blue briefs with little Spidermen printed on them and a ratty grey hoodie with a devastating stain right on your chest. Your hair probably looked just as bad. You hadn't been bothered to fix up your bedhead, it was a goddamn Sunday.

"Don't worry about me." Regina, with her hands at her hips, looked at you expectantly. "So..."

"Yeah, uh, just stay here," You turned and put your sandals on. "I'll put this to the trash and, I still gotta put some things away and then you can come inside."

Regina just stared at you. You pursed your lips together and hustled past her, down the porch steps and toward the trash cans. By the time you'd hauled the bag away, you could no longer see Regina on the porch.

"Regina! I said don't go in!" You ran after her.

"Don't be ridiculous, jorts, I'm not afraid of a mess. Gosh." You could hear her from inside, probably taking her shoes off. That'd been a thing at your house always, but you didn't expect her to remember.

"Fucking- fine, okay, just..." You huffed as you spied her saunter into your living room as if she owned the place. She slumped down onto the couch, the very same you'd slept on the previous night.

You collected the food from the coffee table and moved it to the kitchen. You gave tentative sniffs to glean if they'd gone bad already. They'd only been out in the open for like, less than a day. So it was probably fine.

"When'd you order that?" Regina's voice came from behind you unexpectedly. You turned to her, caught with your nose in some noodles.

"Uh, last night..." You wiped at your nose with your sleeve.

She walked up to the container, right up in your space, and also gave it a sniff. Then she shrugged.

"I was thinking the same," You poured the noodles into Tupperware and shoved it into the fridge.

"Why's your fridge so empty? Has your dad gone bankrupt?" Regina stepped in before you could fully close the door.

"No, Reggie, he's fine. I don't have the money to stock up like your mom."

Regina turned to look at you, a displeased pout on her lips. She'd always hated it when you called her that. "I fucking hate that stupid nickname. And what do you mean you don't have the money?"

"I mean I don't have the money?" You paused in pouring beef and broccoli into another container, turning to look at her.

"Doesn't he send you money or make someone do it for you when he's away?"

You smiled a little bitterly. "He hasn't done that since I was, like, twelve." You paused. "Well, he's always sent me money but he used to have my babysitter buy groceries when I was way young."

Regina's lips twisted like she was genuinely thinking. You continued, feeling weird now that such a weirdly vulnerable conversation had been opened: "He sends me an allowance every week for groceries and school lunch, but it's not that much. If I didn't work at yours or at the shop I'd be toast." You grinned as you put on the last lid, moving to put the last two containers into the fridge too.

Regina didn't look all that amused. She was still frowning at your fridge, the rather pathetic state of it. You could admit it was pretty bleak. Two-litre bottles of various sodas, microwave meals, and an astonishing amount of condiments were not a sight that sparked hope.

"That's weird," Regina commented. "It's like you're poor but with a nice house."

"Gee, thanks so much, Reg, that makes me feel so good and seen." You drolled. "Oh, you think I have a nice house? That's nice."

"It's alright, I guess. Mine's better." Back to her usual, unthinking and overall not-that-nice persona. This was familiar territory.

"I would know. I work there." You motioned for her to follow you to the couch. "I'm gonna pick your apples soon."

"Daddy's home now. I don't know if you can." Regina sat with her shins tucked under her, leaning her side against the back of the couch. You sat a comfortable distance away, facing her with your legs crossed.

"What did your dad do again?" You asked, trying to remember.

"I don't fucking know." She gestured with her hand. "Human trafficking?"

"I hear it's a lucrative business." You grinned, enjoying talking like this with your old friend.

"We should start a company. Who'd you think would have a good price at our school?" She looked so excited at the prospect of talking shit about your peers. It was a little adorable, but in the way that a man-eating beast was. Like a devil cougar or something like that.

"I think that's eugenics, Reg." You muttered, jokingly wincing. "That's problematic."

"What, are you gonna sue me?" She leaned forward, inclining her head cheekily. "With what money?"

"With daddy's money, you fuck!" You laughed. "What money are you gonna sue me with? Wait, let me guess, uhh... Daddy's money."

"I'll have you know, it might be mommy's money." She widened her eyes dramatically as she began to tell the story. "I did some snooping around, and it just so happens daddy might not be the breadwinner after all, because-"

As Regina got into telling you about Mrs George's strange investments, which she and Kylie both had been pretty sure were pyramid schemes, you listened keenly and watched as she spun the story. She'd always been a good storyteller, good with performing and making the room pay attention to her. It was a shame she'd started to use her powers for evil.

Sitting here, Regina George on your dirty couch in her designer clothes and all, listening as she told you about the most mundane things in her life, made you feel warm in a way you hadn't in a long time. Loneliness was a quiet thing. It snuck up on you and you hadn't even noticed.

You hoped she wouldn't duck out of your life again.

Notes: Written late at night. My eyes don't work like they used to before. Might've missed some spelling errors or weird grammar. I'll return to it after I've slept. Also, in case you haven't noticed, this is firmly set in 2004. This story takes elements from both films, 2004 and 2024, but time-wise it is 2004. Another thing, I changed up the chapter titles. Originally, the first part was the prologue but then I thought about it and it really isn't like a prologue. So, that was chapter 1 and this is chapter 2. Bye-bye, party people.

Taglist: One person asked for this lmao, but I am but a servant of the people. Comment on this post if you wanna be tagged on the next part when it comes out. Disclaimer! Chapters will not usually come out this fast.

@autorasexy

#mean girls #mean girls 2024 #mean girls 2004 #mean girls fanfic #mean girls x reader #regina george x reader #regina george x you #regina george x oc #regina george x ofc #reader insert #no use of y/n #regina george #lesbian regina george #fic: yard work

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nanabansama · 2 months ago

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Amane's Death Date

So I recently made a post about character birthdays (see here) in which I mentioned that we know Mitsuba's death month, but soon after making it, I realized we kind of had the same (if not a closer) approximation for Amane and Tsukasa's date of death...?

This might not come as a very shocking post to some of you, and a lot of it is ultimately speculation, but I think I have some interesting evidence to back up what I'm saying!

So let's lay out some facts first:

Amane was last seen alive on July 22, 1969

Amane died in his summer uniform

Summer holiday at Kamome Academy starts after July 22

July 22 should be very close to the beginning of summer vacation, which is a very helpful time frame for us. And luckily, on July 22, we can see Amane's class schedule:

I go into more detail in another post on my blog (link), but we can actually use this class schedule to potentially tell us the start date for Amane's summer vacation. You'll notice that one of the day of the week columns is empty: Saturday.

While it's possible that Kamome simply has no classes on that day, or that students have other activities on that day unrelated to their main classroom, the presence of it on the class schedule itself seems to imply that they have a reason to go to school on Saturday, and that they simply have nothing scheduled that week.

Ergo... what if that's the start of their summer vacation?

Since July 22 is a Tuesday, that would mean Saturday is July 26. And if summer vacation started, then why would Amane need to wear his summer uniform anymore?

What I'm saying here is... what if Amane killed himself between the dates July 22-25, just before summer vacation started?

Now I realize my logic is a little flawed here; students continue wearing their summer uniforms after summer vacation until the weather cools and they switch to winter uniforms, and just because there are no classes marked on the class schedule for Saturday doesn't guarantee that summer vacation started that day.

This is also a minor background detail and it's totally possible that they didn't put much thought into it at all.

...Still, I have trouble imagining Amane waiting to kill himself much longer after giving away his most treasured possession, the moon rock, and he definitely killed himself in 1969 before he switched to his winter uniform at school. That would mean he killed himself anywhere between July 22 up to early autumn.

Ultimately, you can come to your own conclusions, but I personally like the idea that Amane giving Tsuchigomori the moon rock was one of the last memories he had of him alive, so him dying around that time feels appropriate to me.

Anyway, time to get more into speculatory territory...

Since I'm limiting the options to 22, 23, 24, and 25, we have a tantalizingly low selection. There's really no way to narrow it down, though, what with the limited information that we have... So I'll start by describing why each day could work, then declare my personal winner.

First, July 22. This day is pretty appealing as a choice because we see Amane on this day, and he's already acting very suicidal. However, I feel like that makes it a bad choice too... we already had a major event happen on the 22nd. I can't deny that it would be a fateful last meeting for him and Tsuchigomori, though.

July 23 is next, and I can't say I love this day... I do like how it's the day after July 22, so that giving away the moon rock isn't the same day that he killed himself, but otherwise it doesn't stand out too much. The most I can say is that 23 sounds like "ni san" which sounds like older brother in Japanese, and Amane is an older brother. Yeah, that's about it... *sigh*

July 24 is a better one. For this, I'm getting out my auspicious calendar:

As you can see, July 24 is 仏滅 which is the day of worst luck. You might remember this being the same type of day that Tsukasa sacrificed himself. Now, I know I have a bit of a tendency to over rely on the auspicious calendar... but 24 also just sounds like a good death day, you know? 2 twins die, 4 dead in all, 4 is a spooky death number in Japan, etc...

Anyway, July 25 is also a good day. According to my speculations, this would be the last day before summer vacation starts, and would mark both the end of that school trimester and the end of their lives. In addition, the 25th of November was both the day that they were born and the day that Tsukasa sacrificed himself. Also, 25 is goroawase for twins in Japanese.

So in the end, I'm a little torn... even the day I'm not all that jazzed about, July 23, makes some sense to me. I guess for now I'll lean towards July 24, partly because that's the date the Apollo 11 astronauts got back from the moon... but honestly, it's a toss up between all of them.

Considering we don't know the time of day it happened, it's possible that the twins died on different days... and that's not even getting into their parents. There's no guarantee that they even died on the same day that their sons did, only that all four bodies were eventually found in the house, and that it was ruled a family suicide...

Additionally, since this illustration of Amane stabbing Tsukasa has stars in the bg, I wonder if it happened at night time...? Not that it really matters... but if it was after school and Amane stayed late, it stands to reason that the murder could have happened at night. That does lend a bit of credit to it being July 22 as well: Amane definitely stayed late that day.

You might have also noticed a discrepancy between the first image in this post, where Amane is shown poised to stab himself, and the colored one above here where he's hunched over with the bloody knife. Well it might not mean anything, but in the more recent one, the first image, Amane has no visible wounds. It makes you wonder if that's an error, or if his wounds healed before he killed himself. This opens a few possibilities, either that AidaIro changed their minds about Amane having wounds when he died, or that Amane waited a few days after killing Tsukasa before killing himself. Both are interesting ideas, but for now, I'm not going to do anything with them.

Anyway, I hope this post was somewhat informative or at least entertaining. I wouldn't be surprised if I wasn't the first person to talk about this detail, though. Thanks for reading!

#Jshk #Tbhk #tsukasa yugi #Amane yugi #Yugi twins

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sunflowervoltwentyeight · 2 months ago

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Happy 28th! Here is my May 2025 fic rec, organized by word count, from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!

Come Home to Me by aquietlarrie / @aquietlarrie (261k)

set over a decade and between differing countries, harry and louis are childhood best mates where by the life choices they'd made in their youth, inevitably end up separated from one another. harry travels the world, whilst louis stays home at uni. as ever, life has it's ways of bringing them back together, but it's never the right time for them no matter how entangled with each other they become. unconditional, and at times, frustratingly blind through sheer stubborn will, the two of them navigate their early to late twenties together until they can no longer carry on and a decision needs to be made.

or an exploration into how the ages of seventeen to your late twenties can feel anything but stable. a realistic, and sometimes confrontational deep dive into healing yourself as a whole away from the one you love the most, sprinkle in a relationship dynamic where boundaries of said friendship are blurred with codependency and jealousy, and the complexities of such emotions are explored.

Shameful Company by blueskiesrry / @blueskiesrry (40k)

Harry remains impassive as he says, “I never said we were sleeping together.”

“But you have, right?”

He sighs heavily through his nose, figuring there’s no use in hiding it. Not if it means as little as he says it does. “Yeah. Sure. We’ve slept together.”

The smug grin is evident in Pippa’s voice. “And are you seeing other people?”

“Don’t see why we can’t. It’s not like it’s anything serious.”

Pippa hums. “Interesting.”

in which louis has always had clear intentions, harry has always been a bit of a brat, and it seems like everything yet nothing has changed since they broke up a few years ago. except now they're fucking.

The Orchards of Jessop by jaerie / @jaerie (15k)

At age 40, there isn’t much excitement in widower Louis Tomlinson’s life, but wasn’t that the reason he’d moved to Jessop Island in the first place? Back then he hadn’t thought retiring before he reached 30 and moving to the countryside would mean that he’d be doing it alone. Now, just to fill the space, he welcomes lodgers into his home that pass through working as temporary labourers at the orchards just up the road. They’ve all been young adults eager to start lives of their own after one last summer of freedom.

All of them have been much the same, coming and going from Louis’ house with just enough social interaction to keep the house from feeling so empty. But when a global pandemic shuts down the world, being quarantined with a quiet twenty year old who keeps to himself might turn out to be an awkward arrangement. By the time the restrictions have been lifted, their relationship has developed into something Louis isn’t quite ready to give up. With their twenty year age difference, Louis has to be prepared for the inevitable outcome when the reality shatters the private world they’ve been living in. He’s not sure he’ll be able to let it go.

Somewhere in the World There's You by eulogiseme / @eulogisemeao3 (5k)

Louis flattens the palm of his hand over Harry’s thighs, slowly curving them over the ferns that decorate his soft hips. He goes further over the smooth, hairless skin, fingers pressing down into his navel, then back up before settling to stop when his touch ghosts the sweet creature splayed upon Harry’s chest. It’s warm in a way that drives him mad—Louis can’t find this kind of warmth anywhere else in the world.

Hidden away from the world, Harry and Louis get a few days to themselves in Italy before they've got to leave each other again.

I'll Take Your Pain by suspendrs / @suspendrs (2k)

It’s kind of romantic when Harry thinks about it, feeling all the pain of the person he’s supposed to love for the rest of his life. Sure, it’s rather inconvenient when he’s in class and his soulmate gets kicked in the balls, or when he’s sleeping and his soulmate knocks his head or his knee off something. It’d be nice if the function helped them to find each other, but Harry supposes he can live with knowing that they’re destined to run into each other someday.

Or, soulmates have the ability to feel each other's pain, and Harry finds his after getting his arse waxed. (Or, the soulmate au crack fic I can't believe I actually wrote.)

#28th appreciation #fic rec #larry fic rec #monthly fic rec #may fic rec #hlcreators #read

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agirlandhersweetdelusions · 1 year ago

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Mermaid who is infatuated with your legs and wants to be in between them. The encounter is by chance, but it ends in something deeper than friendship. 🌊

Feminine Reader x Mermaid

CW: Smut | Some Horror | Mentions of Drowning | No death

"C'mon don't be a baby," Noah said. His tone indicated that he was joking, but you knew well enough that deep down, he hoped you would swim in Lake Lost at night.

"Leave her alone. You know she's not down for things like that," Mira hissed in his direction.

Mira had been your best friend since high school. She knew what you liked, didn't like, and downright hated. Which made it all the more surprising when she started going out with Noah years later.

Noah had always been an ass. He spent a majority of 11th grade in detention, and a majority of college skipped class from being too hungover. In your opinion, Mira was too good for him. It was an inside joke that if she were into girls that you would treat her way better.

You sighed. "If only," you thought to yourself.

The water seemed to have an electric hum to it tonight, and the closer you walked to the edge of the dock, the louder it got.

"Do you guys feel that?" You asked, turning to face your two friends. Of course they didn't because they were too busy making out. Again.

You cleared your throat.

"Earth to horny. Can you hear me? I am standing right here, you know."

Pulling away from Noah, Mira's eyes widened and she bit her lower lip. Embarrassed looked cute on her.

Noah, however, wore embarrassment about as well as he would wear anything. Proudly and way too loud for your liking.

"What can I say," he pulled Mira back to his chest. "She's hot," he finished with an annunciation on the "t".

"At least go back to the car so I don't have to watch," you sneered. Clearly, you were the least important thing here.

"No! This is supposed to be our little reunion before the wedding," Mira's eyes dropped as she tried to step towards you. Ah, right. The wedding. You were going to be Mira's maid of honor next week.

None of it felt real. The wedding. College graduation. Hell, even life itself felt strange these days. It's as if everything you knew turned inside out over night, and nobody else felt the difference but you.

You took a deep breath.

"I can always jump in the lake some other time," you faked a half smile.

"Besides. I'm sure you two would like to make one last memory here before becoming," you swallowed, "husband and wife."

Mira turned her head. What her eyes fixated on, you couldn't quite tell. The only thing apparent is that she'd rather look anywhere but at her so-called best friend.

"Well," Noah said breaking the tension.

"Maybe she's right. We can always go for some new memories." He wiggled his eyebrows and Mira's shoulders eased. Your stomach lurched in a pattern with the waves behind you.

"If you're sure -" Mira began.

"I'm sure. Go. I'll be here. I - I missed Lake Lost."

"Really?" They said in unison, brows furrowed.

"Yeah. You know, I love lore and mysteries. What is Lake Lost besides one big mystery. All those bodies are still missing. Surely, it was from boating accidents or drowning, but still. You guys deserve some privacy."

Mira's gaze leveled with yours. Her eyes, a coppery brown, finally showed signs of softening.

You were getting comfortable under the heat of her eyes when Noah swept her off of her feet. Literally.

"Let's go, future Mrs. Scobolt."

With that, they were disappearing in heaps of laughter back towards the car. It wasn't quite that far from the dock, but Mira suggested parking at the entrance in case anyone showed up.

Technically, the park closed at sunset which was 2 hours ago, but when you saw the sign from the backseat of the car, you got a little excited.

Mira hadn't been wrong. You guys used to spend every evening here in the summer. It was where you learned to swim, where Mira caught a baby crab, where a pelican stole your shoe, and where you and Mira kissed.

These waters have seen everything and more. Much more.

Your spine ran cold in the July heat at the thought of the deaths. They had explanations for all of them, but it was eerie how they all occurred at night. Who would go boating at night? The lake is closed!

Then again, here you were. You looked back towards the car, but a thick fog had begun to roll off of the restless waters. You couldn't see more than 200 feet around you in any direction. It was as if a cloud had swallowed you in the time you were thinking.

Going back to the car was still an option, but the mental image of Mira being pounded into by Noah set off a dozen alarms in your head.

Her head rolling back, his hands on her hips.

No. You'd stay at the dock until you were sure that whatever they were doing was over.

Cementing the idea in your head, you say down at the edge of the wooden structure. The water reminded you of the midnight sky, an abyss that had no end. Yet, the clinginess of your shirt to your skin meant that the humidity was only rising.

You decided to soak your feet in the water, and as your legs made contact with the coolness of the lake, a happy sigh escaped your lips.

A few minutes pass of you relaxing on your forearms, feet gently swaying in the lake. You watched the ripples from your moments with hooded eyes.

"I can see how people fall asleep out here," you think whilst fighting back a yawn.

The rustle of leaves in the summer breeze, the chirp of bullfrogs, the increasing bubble of the water - wait.

You sit up, fully alert and eyes wide. The bubbles are concentrated in one area, but they're quickly moving closer to you.

Whipping your head to the car, you open your mouth to call for help. The problem is that nothing comes out. You're stuck.

It's as if you've been submerged in ice. A chill coats your bones, freezing you in place. Your mind races onward, begging your legs to rise from the water.

The circle of erratic lake closes in and as the bubbles reach the edge of your legs, you come to your senses.

But it's too late.

The summer air is warm, but the spot of the lake where you're pulled into is warmer. Water floods your vision and you find yourself flailing, gripping as nothing as you are pulled down into an ombre of darker blues.

You can't see what's grabbed you, nor do you care. Why does it feel like a hand? That doesn't matter, you begin to kick with the hope of striking anything.

The murky water is quickly filling your lungs, and your ability to struggle is growing weak. A blackness eats at the edge of your vision, and dizziness begins to set in.

"Mira!" You try to scream, but it comes out in a slew of air bubbles that only floods your lungs quicker.

You give one more kick, stronger than the rest. You feel your heel connect with a mass. Suddenly, you're free. You slowly make your way to the surface, fighting the urge to pass out.

"Fuck," you gasp in a voice that sounds unlike your own. Coughing and sputtering, water spews from your body, and you grab onto the wooden base of the dock for support.

"What on earth was -," you stop when you hear the familiar rumble of hot water. The bubbles. They've come back, and they're racing towards you.

With no time or energy to pull yourself onto the dock, you wait - panting, for whatever the creature is to take you again.

Maybe it's for the best? You weren't exactly happy with your life before, and it's not like Mira would miss you at this point.

Just as you've resigned to becoming fish food, the creature begins to show itself. First, a black spot appears on the surface. Then, as it rises, you're frozen to the spot by icy white eyes with thick lashes of the same hue.

It's a woman. No? It's - what is she? Her eyes are huge and nearly human minus the color, but her skin is a milky blue. She's beautiful albeit definitely not human.

"Are those," your voice trembles, and you reach a shaky hand up towards her face.

The woman - thing, tilts her head. She doesn't move from your touch. Instead, you made contact with her skin. It's ice cold, and your suspicion was correct. She has gills.

Lost in a sea of thoughts, you hardly realize that you'd begun to stroke her skin.

"What -" her voice startles you back to the present. It is dreamy and quiet with a lilt that has you mesmerized.

"What are you?" She asks. Her eyes are wider than yours, but while you're staring at her face, she has taken a liking to staring at your chest.

The look on her face isn't at all displeased, and a heat trickles down your neck. As if on cue, her eyes snap to yours. She waits for you to respond.

"Oh, um. I'm a human. I'm a woman."

"Human? Woman?" Her head is still tilted, so you continue.

"Yeah. A human. I live up there," you point towards the land and her eyes follow. She blinks a few times before looking down into the water.

"And what are those?"

"What are what?" You look down to see what caught her attention, but instead of finding the source of her curiosity, you stir up your own.

A tail. She has a tail. Her human form ends at her bellybutton, and from there blooms a tail that glitters in sparks of white and lavender beneath the dark surface.

"Mermaid" you whisper under your breath.

Apparently, you did not answer the mermaid's question fast enough because you feel her looming over you before you see her.

Her chest comes into view, and you're forced to look up to meet her eyes once more. You bite your lip to avoid smiling at how gorgeous she is.

She chuckles, emitting a sound like tinkering bells and you feel a webbed palm on your thigh.

A panicked yelp slips from your lips before you register what happened.

"I apologize!" The mermaid responds.

"I did not know that your tails were so sensitive. I should have asked first."

Tails? She thinks you have tails? You look down at your legs, then back up at her. She's shrunken into herself, embarrassed at what she thinks may have hurt you.

"No. No no no," you begin to laugh.

"These are my legs," you swim around her in a small circle.

"They help me to swim, walk, and run. They're kind of important. I guess they are to me what your tail is to you."

You don't know why you've become so animated, but seeing the mermaid smile at your explanation has your heart picking up it's pace.

"By the way," you can't stop talking. You've tried, but the words keep flooding out.

"Why did the water bubble when you came? Also, why did you try to drown me?"

She blinks again, narrowing her eyes.

"Drown you? I - I thought you could swim like me? Are you not able to breathe water for long?"

"I can't breathe water at all. I have no gills. Human."

"Huh," she looks off to the side.

"Perhaps that is why those other humans did not last very long with me. I only wanted to study their two tails, but by the time I took them back to my shell cave, they did not want to talk to me."

Your stomach lurches again. She's the reason Lake Lost is called Lake Lost, and she has no idea what she's even done.

"So - So you only wanted to look at their legs? You drowned those people by accident?"

Recognition hits the mermaid like a wave. She spins around, scaled fingers over her mouth.

"I took their lives. Oh goodness, I drowned them!"

She did, and she should probably feel bad about it, but watching her tail flap in distress was not only upsetting you, but it was causing some bigger waves to form in the lake. You could swim, but you weren't sure if you could survive a tsunami.

You swim to her, placing a hand on her back.

"Warm," she turns to you, claimed.

"You are warm."

"Yes. I am. It's human blood. If I'm not warm, then I'll die."

She giggles at your factual explanation.

"You're very interesting. I still feel remorse for the humans that I hurt. I didn't mean to. I promise," she looks at you pleadingly.

"I know you didn't, and if it makes you feel better you can study my legs," the end of your sentence comes out as more of a question. You can't believe you just said that. What if she tries to rip your legs off?

Still, she's stunning. The moon is in its crescent phase, casting a dim shadow over the lake. Her dark hair has a faint light to it, and her white eyes look pearlescent. You could study her for hours, but her lack of shirt deters you as you don't want to make her uncomfortable.

She, on the other hand, has no problem with taking all of you in. Her claim is that she wants to study your legs, but every time you look away, her eyes flutter back to your chest, your lips.

Her hand twitches, and she claps both of them together in front of her.

"I would like that. Thank you," she smiles, and you shiver again at her teeth. They're razor sharp. She could kill you with one bite.

Not that she would. In fact, what happens next surprises you. Grabbing onto the dock, you begin to hoist yourself from the water without much success. Your hands are too wet to get a decent grip.

Sinking back into the water for the second time, you let out a frustrated huff.

Without warning, you feel a pair of icy cold hands gripping your hips, and a torso pressing itself to your back.

Staring into those white irises, she doesn't break your gaze and she lifts you onto the dock, setting you down gently.

You open your mouth to speak, but she beats you to it.

"You are welcome, human." A light blue creeps onto her neck and cheeks.

"What is it that fascinates you about legs? I know you don't have them, but they must look awfully funny to you from beneath the lake's surface."

"They do, but that is why I like them. They are something new. I have had this tail since I was young. It no longer interests me."

The mermaid takes pause, and her eyes scan you over again.

She continues, "Humans are different. Your anatomy is more complex. There are parts that do different things. I have heard many stories about your kind."

"Really? From who?"

"Fish that get set free, my sisters who used to watch humans from a distance. They say that if you make a human very happy, then something good happens. They called it "the cry".

Now it's your turn to be confused.

"Crying is usually not a good thing when humans do it. At least, in my experience. Though, I've not had many joyous occasions to cry over," you avoid her piecing eyes.

"No. It is not a sad cry. It is one that happens when you touch the spots between a human's legs."

She speaks in a voice that edges with excitement. You inch closer towards her at the edge of the dock until your legs brush her chest.

"Do you - are you saying that you want to do that? You want to have sex with a human?"

She laughs again, "Yes. I want to know everything about you. How your legs feel when I wrap them around my waist, how the -"

"What?"

"What would you like me to call your sensitive place, sweet human?"

"Well it's -" you snort out a laugh. You can't believe this is happening.

"Most people refer to it as a pussy, but you can use whatever word you see fit,"

"May I take a look at it?" she asks, moving forward to close any space between the two of you.

"And while I'm at it," she maneuvers your legs so that they rest on her hips, stroking them with her palms. You expected more scales, but her palms are completely smooth.

Leaning towards you until her nose nearly brushed yours, she whispers, "is this ok?"

You nod eagerly as words fail you again.

"Gosh, your legs are so cute. It's like they were made to hold people - or merpeople between them," she looks down, admiring the connection of your limbs and her body.

"Human."

"Hm?"

"I asked you earlier, but I think you were too distracted. May I see your pretty, sensitive areas?"

You think for a moment.

"Only if you promise that you'll greet them with a kiss."

Her eyes beam, a faint white glow added to their usual milkiness. A high pitched purr rumbles from somewhere within her throat, and she smiled, barring all of her teeth.

You lifted yourself enough that she could pull off your bottoms, but she protested the action.

"Human. I think you misunderstand my kindness. Please, do as I ask like an obedient creature."

Your ass hit the dock with a thump. Why on earth were you listening to her willingly? Is she using magic?

You didn't have to ponder because with a airy whisper of the word, "lift" you found yourself rising again for her to do exactly what you tried to help her with.

"Good girl," she mumbled.

And it was if your head no longer existed for the second she saw pussy, she was in a trance. She sunk into the water, leveling her gaze with your cunt. Her eyes reflecting no trace of what she saw, yet you could feel the wind rolling onto your clit.

You were wet, and she loved nothing more in the world than water.

"Pretty," she said breathlessly, still moving closer until her lips were centimeters from your clit.

"Is this it, sweet human?"

You knew she meant your clit. You could feel her cold breath chilling you from the outside, in.

"Yes, miss," you tested the nickname.

She made no sudden movement and to say, "What a polite pearl you are."

That must've been her last thought, too because after that you felt bliss. Short kisses were being peppered onto your folds.

She was working her way down to your entrance, teasing your hole with her double pointed tongue before she spread her affection to your inner thighs.

Your hand reached out, resting lighting in her damp hair, and emitted another of those high-pitched whines.

You gripped her harder.

"Do not get greedy, human," she teased, lifting one of your legs from the water to kiss her way down to your ankle.

"If it is me you want, then I will give it to you with time."

Her movements never ceased, and within seconds she was back between your legs, lapping at your folds.

Delighted hums left you in waves, and with a shaking voice, you mumbled, "Clit. Please, suck on my clit."

"Silence," she whispered, shutting you up in an instant.

She obeyed nonetheless. Her lips wrapped around the bundle of nerves while her tongue continued its journey. It was clear that she was being extra careful not to nip you with her teeth, but the tentative behavior only made you want more.

You began to pant, grinding your hips onto her face. Her eyes fluttered open unbeknownst to you, and while she continued to sail you towards an orgasm, one of her eyes bled into an inky blue.

Her efforts ceased, and your eyes opened immediately. It wasn't like you to outwardly pout, but the loss of contact had your lower lip trembling.

When you noticed her eyes, you felt like crying for an entirely different reason.

"Are you alright?" You said breathlessly.

She did not respond.

Her hands gripped your legs in a bruising fashion, and she yanked you into the lake once more.

Instead of drowning, you found yourself being held to her bare chest. She was looking down at you expectantly.

"I want to know what you're feeling, sweet pet."

Her tone was like molasses. Sticky and sultry. You were lost in her, and her gaze did not move from you.

Securing you in her arms, her tail found a home between your legs. As she positioned herself, a few of her scales glided across your cunt, and you moaned into her chest.

A breath was let out by her, and a strangled groan followed.

"Did you - did you feel that?" You searched her neverending pupils for signs of pleasure.

"A mermaid's tail is much more than a vice for swimming, pet. I can feel every contraction, every throb of your pretty pearl. I love it."

She closed her eyes, hugging you tightly while her tail moved back and forth against you. Every few seconds she would go farther out with her movements so that a stray scale would make contact with your clit.

It was as if you were grinding on her except she was holding you, suspended in the foggy lake.

"Miss, please. More. Need more," you begged.

Her tail moved faster. Meanwhile, her lips found yours, kissing you harshly as if to keep you quiet.

Your tongues found each other, swirling before she plunged hers into your mouth. You sucked on it eagerly, moaning into her mouth as your wetness coated her scaled.

Her heartbeat was increasing, and you were a mess.

"Pet, I am not going to last much longer. Use those pretty legs to move yourself on me. Let us finish together."

She loosened her arms. You used the opportunity to place your hands on her abdomen, grinding yourself faster against her.

"Such a good pet," is all you heard amongst the splashing of the water. The bubbles had returned, and steam rose into the air. You felt the nerves in your pussy throbbing, and you knew that she could feel it, too.

"Let it out, sweet human. Finish for me," she cooed into your ear.

Your legs trembled, and you nearly gave out onto her as your orgasm crashed onto you. Your hand groped her breast, and she placed a shaking palm over yours.

Her tail vibrated, and you heard faint a whimper and whines as she gasped for air. She had cum.

"Keep going. Keep moving. I am almost done," she begged, rocking you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of warmth and wet kisses, you both regained your breathing.

A tail and a set of legs stay intertwined in the sway of the waves, and she guided your hand up towards the moonlight.

The two of you stayed that way, enjoying the frog symphony and the crickets hum. Drifting to the center of the lake as you lay on her belly, watching as her webbed fingers toyed with yours.

"Thank you, sweet human," she said after a while.

You felt like you should be thanking her. After everything that's been happening to you, you finally felt real. You had been seen for the first time in a long time.

"If it is not too much to ask, may I see you again? I am sure there are many more parts of you that I could learn from."

You smiled to yourself.

"As long as I can learn from you as well. I'm sure you've got a ton of stories to tell."

She laughed. You were prepared to ask her about her family, but the familiar sound of tires on asphalt made you both freeze.

Mira and Noah. You had forgotten.

You felt your new companions heartbeat race. Turning to her, you took her cheeks in your hands.

"They're good people, but I understand why you might not want to be seen. I'll come back again tomorrow. This time, I'll bring you a gift."

"A gift?"

"Mhm. Something that you can keep or take to your sisters to show them,"

A few clicks sounded from her throat, and she pressed her forehead to yours.

"Fine, but take care of these legs, sweet human. I do like them very much."

She swam towards the dock with you on her back, shifting to set you on the wooden structure unharmed.

With a wink, she dove into the abyss of Lake Lost, and you heard Mira in the distance.

"Hey! Are you ready to go? Noah saw a park ranger coming this way."

Shit.

"Yeah! I'm coming," you glanced back at the lake, and a shimmer of lavender twinkled not so far away.

"Tomorrow" you thought to yourself.

You could look forward to tomorrow.

#monster smut #sapphic smut #monster fucker #monster fudger #monster lover #sapphic monster #fem reader #mermay #mythology #mermaid x human #mermaid #wlw smut #smut

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daenysx · 1 year ago

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hi I can’t stop thinking about an aemond fic with his girl graduating university. I graduated today and can’t stop thinking about how supportive your modern aemond would be!!

thank you for requesting, angel! i'm sorry, this is a bit short but i hope you enjoy, congratulations!! requests are open

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader ♡

aemond watches you take your make up off as he does every night.

this time, it's a bit different. the hour is later than usual, you are a little tipsy because of the celebration drinks but you insist on completing your skin care routine. he lays in bed, his eye following your movements in the little bathroom attached to his bedroom. you give him a smile when your eyes meet, he likes being the person you smile at night.

you apply your night cream on your clean face and turn off the lights as you leave the bathroom. aemond adores how your face looks without any make up on, he likes it either way but your clean face reminds him how safe you feel with him. you trust him enough to create a night time routine with him, it's so nice to be the person you sleep and wake up next to. he opens his arms, you willingly lay next to him, your head on his chest and your arm wrapped around his waist.

"you don't have classes tomorrow." he says. "how does that feel?"

you sigh, nuzzling closer. "it's so weird. i don't think i ever remember a time when i don't continue studying after summer."

"you'll get used to it." he graduated three years ago. "and you can always continue studying if you want."

"i feel free." you say. "and i'm kinda proud of myself. i mean at some point it was really hard like it's never gonna end."

aemond is proud of you. so proud, he can still remember how his posture got straighter the moment you finally graduated. he is the person who has been with you all the time when you were studying, when you were crying because of your papers, when you were finding out about your grades and celebrating them. now, it's all over. you finished another important part of your life and he is one of the main characters. such a nice feeling, he thinks.

"i totally remember that point." he smirks. he does remember the time of your final week during your last semester at uni. it's safe to say he won't let you forget it either. it was a hectic week, you don't remember you ever studied harder in your life. one night, you were literally talking about your lecture notes in your sleep and aemond had the pleasure of learning your class.

"it happened once, aemond." you roll your eyes. "i can't control what i do when i sleep."

he changes your positions to be on top. he kisses your nose, your cheeks. he feels delightful tonight, you cup his cheeks to start a kiss that plays with his heartbeat. he brings his finger to your chin, tilts your head back for a deeper angle. you are both very tired but aemond thinks he can kiss you for an eternity. it makes him feel like he's the lead of one of those cheesy romcoms but he can't help himself.

"do you think it's gonna be okay?" you ask him, breaking the kiss. he knows you are nervous about what to do with your life now, university was hard but it had consistency. your every day was planned, routines were safe. right now, you need to build yourself a new life, it's a new chapter. beginnings are always scary.

"of course it's gonna be okay." he says, playing with your hair. "no matter what you decide to do, i'll be here."

"i think i'm afraid of stucking into a thing i'll hate and then never being able to change it."

he smiles, your pout has always been this cute. "trust me, sweetheart, you can change it. if you ever feel like you're stuck into something, i promise i'll help you with the change you want."

your pout turns into a smile. there she is, his brilliant girl. he kisses the corner of your lips fondly.

"i'm so proud of you." he says before kissing your forehead.

"thank you." your eyes are shining, you kiss him as a way of telling how much his words mean to you.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #house of the dragon #modern!aemond #hotd #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #modern!aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fics #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfic #modern!aemond imagine #modern!aemond targaryen #modern!aemond fic

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haologram · 10 months ago

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how to be a latin lover ♡ h.js (teaser)

♡ synopsis: the dreadful semester has started — meaning your summer vacation has come to end, and so has your summer fling…or has it? ♡ genre: summer fling au ; big dummy dumb idiots to lovers ; ta x student dynamics. ♡ pairing: spanish ta!joshua hong x chaebol!fem!reader | side pairings: lee chan x jung haerim (weki meki) ; wen junhui x lee saerom (fromis_9) ♡ word count: 2.4k | full fic: tba because i don't fucking know. ♡ rating: 18+. minors do not interact, i beg. ♡ warnings: honestly, a little toxic if you squint. lots of pining. hella slow burn. [official warnings: joshua and y/n are absolute idiots. i'm talking the dumbest mfs you've ever encountered, you'll want to scream at them through the screen.] ♡ what to listen to: otro atardecer - bad bunny, the marías ; get to you - mac ayres ; more to come.

Friday, September 16th.

It'd been a little more than a week since you met with Joshua in the library.

And since the two of you officially acknowledged that you'd slept together. What you didn't know was, while he was having his own feelings about the history that weighed the two of you down, he wasn't going to force you to return his affections. In fact…he even felt a bit silly, liking you so much off of three weeks of getting the full experience of…well, you.

Better yet, he wasn't even going to tell you there are any residual feelings on his end. If he knew anything, it was you and your type. If he came off too strong – flowers, a date, chocolates and the like, he'd scare you off even more. You were skittish, like a deer, and he had to either slowly gain your trust…

Or irritate the living hell out of you every chance he got.

Subtle flirting, double entendres, maybe the occasional lingering look. He knew that if he wanted a chance, and man did he want it – he was going to have to work for it. No problem, though. You were definitely worth the wait.

"So, as you can see, the proper conjugation is hablar, not hablando." His laser pointer is steady at the bottom of the projector screen, and he looks up to see half of the class staring intently and the other half jotting down notes. You were neither of the two – your head was resting on Chan's shoulder, eyes low. He cleared his throat, your head jumping up and a wince crossing your features.

Joshua knew Chan was really no threat. The fraternity really liked him, and he was set to move in this weekend. According to Chan's Instagram story, you'd been at his dorm the night before helping him pack up. Saerom had also been there, and Soonyoung – another Beta Tau member. You had been holding a can of Red Bull and in one of the following videos, you were shotgunning another.

"Any questions?" He calls out, and Haerim shoots her hand up. "Yes, Haerim?" "Since this is a conversational class, how would we ask someone out? Or, for their number?"

The classroom fills with childish snickering, and Joshua just smiles as he shakes his head. "Well, I-" "I don't think this is an appropriate question, to be honest." Your voice is heard from the back of the classroom, and Haerim turns in her chair, a wicked smile crossing her lips as Joshua rounds the desk, perched on the edge of it. "And why not, Y/N?" She asks, and Joshua can see you shift uncomfortably in your chair.

"This is Beginner Spanish Conversation, not Coffee Meets Bagel. Flirt on your own time, at your own pace." You scoff, and Haerim's smile only grows wider. It's like she knows something about you, and Joshua notices you begin to bristle slightly. "Why are you so uptight about it, Y/N? It's just a question." "I'm paying for this class, as is everyone else. I think I'd like to appreciate my money's worth by learning something I'll actually use." "Alright, ladies. Honestly, Miss Y/N is partially correct. This is not Café y Rosquilla, but I do think that this is…a learning moment. Asking someone out does involve conversation, you know." Joshua attempts to diffuse, but he can see your subtle annoyance at his siding with Haerim. "So, for example, if I wanted to ask out…" He looks around the room, before a flash of diablerie crosses his eyes. "If I wanted to ask out Miss Y/N, I'd have to make conversation. I'd say…eres muy bonita." "Yeah?! What else?!" You hear Myungjun shout from the far left side of the room, and you can feel Chan's knee bumping yours. You scowl at him, earning a smile as he hides in his hoodie. "I'd say…" Joshua scans your face, and he knows you're probably embarrassed. Embarrassed, but enjoying his subtle attention. He pushes off the desk, pacing in front of the students. "Hm, I'd probably say I like her dress, or me gusta tu vestido."

He watches you cross your legs, tucking the extra fabric of your black dress under your thighs. "Okay, but how do you ask her out!?" Haerim interrupts excitedly, and Joshua is on the first step of the stairs before he catches your eyes again.

"You don't just ask someone out flat out like that. You build repertoire, you make conversation." He rolls his eyes playfully, and you think you're about to get off without any further embarrassment when you hear Chan speak up next to you. "How much repertoire can you even build at this point? Psychology says it only takes two minutes to decide if you like someone." Joshua sees you gape at Chan, before pinching his bicep. Chan pouts in your direction, rubbing his arm as Joshua holds back a laugh. "Psychology also says that there are five components to figuring out if we will have a crush on someone. Physical attraction, proximity, similarity, reciprocity and familiarity. Miss Y/N is very pretty, so physical attraction is checked off. Proximity is also checked, as we see each other three times a week for this class." "What about similarity?" Myungjun pipes up again, making you sink lower in your seat. Joshua is enjoying making you squirm a bit, and he steps up a few more. "Hm, I think that's something I'd have to figure out. Tell me, Miss Y/N, do you enjoy…long walks on the beach?" Your eyes are full of fire, and you'd be almost scary if he didn't notice the way your lip wanted to twitch into a smile. Haerim shouts for you to answer the question, making you send her a scornful look – and she just sticks her tongue out at you like a child. "I do…enjoy long walks on the beach."

"What a coincidence, so do I! Now, we have a similarity. Miss Y/N is familiar, because again, I do see her quite often. Now, it's about reciprocation. This is when you ask the question, this is when you try and make a move." "Shua, how do we make the move!?" Chan asks, and you kick his shin, about to tell him to shut up when Joshua finally reaches your row. He's looking you dead in the eyes, his hand gently wrapping around the edge of your desk. He leans forward, and you can hear the stupid woo-ing of your classmates. "Señorita Y/N, ¿le gustaría salir conmigo?"

Somehow, this all feels like some stupid romcom for the both of you. The class is egging you both on, and Chan is next to you with the most idiotic smile you'd ever seen. You huff, the class is now chanting for you to agree to said…"fake" date.

"No." You say quietly, and Joshua feigns pain. He holds his hand to his heart, a pained expression on his face. "You wound me, Miss Y/N."

He turns to the class, all of which are giving you the dirtiest look ever. "Now, now. This was just an example, don't look at her like that." He scolds, and the class turns back to face the front as he barrels down the steps, checking his watch.

"Shit, it's already ten past noon. You guys are free to go, and if any of you are taking Psych with Professor Seo Jungkwon, tell him I fulfilled his lecture for the day." This earns a laugh from the class, except you. You're angrily stuffing your laptop into your bag, the class eagerly exiting the room. Chan is holding your arm, apologizing most likely, but you don't seem like you want to hear any of it. By this point, Chan looks a bit like a kicked puppy as he quickly takes the steps down, with you following slowly behind him.

Chan is out the door by the time you make it to the last step, and the classroom is empty.

You arms are crossed as you approach the desk, where Joshua is quietly shutting down the projector. His eyes don't meet yours as he disconnects the machine from the wall, winding the cord up to tie together. "Y/N." He calls gently, and you huff angrily. He bites back a smile.

"Why do you insist on embarrassing me? The first week, it was you running your mouth to my best friend. Last week, you practically held Jeonghan at gunpoint to apologize to me. Today, it's putting me on blast in front of an entire classroom with people I will continue to see for the rest of the year."

"Oh? Was it embarrassing?" He's nonchalant as he looks up, tucking the wrapped cables behind the projector. Your eyes are narrowed, and it seems you've caught onto his little game. "Do you get off on this or something? Knowing you fucked one of your students?" "Hm, not necessarily. And none of what was done was done to embarrass you, per say. It's just decent honesty, and we both know you deserved an apology for Jeonghan's behavior." He states matter-of-factly, making you purse your lips. "What about your behavior? You asked me out in front of all these people!" You gesture to the empty room, and Joshua gives you a small smile. "And you rejected me in front of all of those people. The way I see it, it's a teaching moment."

He's on the same side of the desk as you now, resting against it as you complain. HIs smile seems to be getting under your skin, because you grab his shirt by the collar, pulling his face close to yours before you speak through gritted teeth. "Use someone else as your stupid guinea pig. I don't want to be with you, Hong." You're holding him so close, your lips just barely brushing his. He can't help but scan your face quickly, his hand reaching to brush a stray curl off your face. Your eyes follow his fingers, feeling them tuck the hair behind your ear before he swallows carefully. You can feel your stomach flip slightly as his hand drops, ghosting over your hip as he pushes off the desk, making you slightly stumble back. His fingers grab you gently, pulling you flush to him before his nose is touching yours. "Tell me you don't want me," He whispers, his breath hitting your lips making your lashes flutter closed as you press your lips to his. A whimper escapes his throat as he kisses you back, his grip tightening as your hand lets go of his shirt, your palm resting against his stomach as your other hand holds his waist. The kiss is slow but desperate, your tongue licking into his mouth in the way that drove him crazy over the summer.

He can't help himself, his hand moving to tangle in your hair, moving his lips down your jaw and exposed neck. A sharp inhale from you as he reaches one of the many sweet spots he'd discovered, a soft whine sounding in his ears making him feel dizzy as he nips at your skin. Pulling back, he holds your face close to his as he speaks again. "Tell me you don't want me, and we can stop this right now. I'll be nothing but professional for the rest of the semester."

He can tell that wasn't what you were expecting. Your eyes are wide and full of mixed emotions, but overall, they flash with a bit of fear. "I…" Your hands move to rest on his hips, a frown on your lips as you let go, and he does the same. His arms cross with an expectant look on his face, and you grimace.

"Stop embarrassing me in front of people, and if you don't have a good reason to talk to me or be near me, don't engage at all."

He gives you a nod, his smile reappearing as he reaches to wipe your lip gloss from his lips. "That being said, I'm guessing you will not be attending office hours tonight?" Huffing, you look away. "No. I have to help Chan move into the frat house with you and your hooligan friends."

"So I'll see you tonight anyway." He speaks with a grin, and you tongue your cheek. "Leave me alone, Joshua."

You spin on your heel, but his arm is on your elbow before you can walk away. He pulls you back, pulling you into a hug, pressing his lips to your hairline as you hesitantly wrap your arms around him. He speaks against your hair, "One more. For the road."

"Joshua." You groan, trying to hide the giddy feeling spreading in your stomach. He smiles at you, planting a kiss to the tip of your nose. "Just one, and I'll let you slam out of here like we were arguing."

You roll your eyes, but let him slot his lips with yours, the minty taste of him still lingering from the previous kiss. This one is much gentler, the warmth of his body against yours comforting as he pulls away with a chaste kiss. And another. And another.

"You said one." You grumble, swatting at his side to make him let you go. He smiles, his thumb coming to wipe at your lips. Your lipgloss is gone entirely, just glitter remaining. "Mmh. I'll see you later." "Whatever." You pull away from him, and he watches as you slam your way out of the classroom, a few students from your class still lingering in the hallway catching his eye. They look questioning, but he just shrugs as the door closes. He sighs as he looks around the empty lecture hall, a glimmer on the third step up calling his eyes.

Making his way towards the steps, he sees the gold plating of a seven-pointed star, a message engraved in the back.

For my brightest star, Y/N.

Picking it up, the diamonds mock him.

He feels slightly stupid to think this is fate, while knowing that once you realize it's gone, you'll be panicking. It seems nothing is really going right for you these days – your car being hit, fighting with Saerom, not being able to stand your ground against him…and now your necklace is 'gone'. He wants to be selfish and say it's because you're being a bit of a jerk to him.

So he'll believe that.

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florawrites-blog · 11 months ago

Text

Over the summer - enhypen

-seeing you in school after summerbreak

(Guys i dont fuck with school and i need to get kidnapped sooner then later)

Lee heeseung - 이희승

The summer had been a time of transformation for you. You'd experimented with new trends, updated your wardrobe, and embraced a style that was entirely your own. As senior year began, you felt both nervous and excited to show the world your new look.

Walking into the school, you felt a few eyes on you, but you kept your head high, feeling more confident than ever. The first day of senior year was always a bit chaotic, with everyone trying to find their classes, catch up with friends, and adjust to the new schedule. You were heading towards your locker when you suddenly bumped into someone, causing your books to tumble to the ground.

"Ah, sorry about that," you said quickly, bending down to pick them up.

As you reached for the books, you noticed a familiar face across from you—Heeseung. He was your best friend's boyfriend's friend, someone you'd met a few times at gatherings. He had always been nice, but you'd never really talked much. Today, however, he seemed different. As he handed you your books, his movements slowed, and he just… stared.

There was a moment of silence, his eyes scanning you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. It was as if he was seeing you for the first time, truly seeing you.

You blinked, then cleared your throat to snap him out of whatever trance he was in. "Uh, Heeseung? You okay?"

Heeseung shook his head slightly, blinking as if waking up from a dream. "Oh, yeah, sorry! I just… didn't recognize you at first. You look… different. In a good way," he added quickly, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks.

You chuckled softly, feeling a bit of heat rise to your own cheeks. "Thanks, I guess I tried something new this summer."

"It really suits you," he said, still looking a little dazed. He handed you the last of your books, his fingers brushing against yours for just a second longer than necessary. "Well, I guess I'll see you around," he said, finally stepping back.

"Yeah, see you around," you replied, giving him a small smile before turning to head to your locker.

As you walked away, you could feel his eyes on you, and you couldn't help but smile to yourself. Maybe this new style was a bigger hit than you thought.

Park jongseong - 박종성

It was the first week back at school, and everything felt new and exciting. Over the summer, you had embraced a major glow-up, transforming yourself in ways you never thought possible. You weren’t just ready for senior year; you were ready to make it your best year yet.

The school’s newspaper writing club, which had been your second home since middle school, wasn’t starting until next week. But today, you found yourself in the club room, alone, testing out the new cameras the school had purchased. The room was quiet, the only sounds being the occasional click of the camera as you snapped some test shots.

Lost in your thoughts, you were adjusting the lens when you suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of a camera shutter clicking, but it wasn’t your own. Startled, you quickly turned around, your heart skipping a beat.

Standing there, with the biggest smile on his face, was Jay. His charming dimples were on full display, and there was a certain warmth in his eyes that made your breath catch for a moment. He looked even better than you remembered, the summer having been kind to him as well.

“Welcome back to action, gorgeous,” he muttered, his voice smooth and teasing as he lowered the camera from his face.

You blinked, trying to process the moment. Jay had always been your partner in the newspaper club, a constant presence since middle school. But today, there was something different in the air, something you hadn’t noticed before.

“Jay, you scared me,” you managed to say, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you tried to play off your surprise.

He chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours as he stepped closer. “Sorry about that, couldn’t resist. You looked so focused, I had to capture the moment.”

Your cheeks warmed slightly at his words, and you glanced down at the camera in your hands. “Well, I was just trying to get the hang of these new cameras. They’re pretty nice, huh?”

“Yeah, they are,” Jay agreed, but his gaze told you he wasn’t just talking about the cameras. “But I think you’re the one who’s really shining here.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his playful words, feeling a flutter in your chest. “Flattery won’t get you out of helping me with the first article, you know.”

He grinned, leaning against the table beside you, still holding the camera loosely in his hand. “Wouldn’t dream of it. But seriously, it’s good to see you again. This year’s gonna be something special, I can feel it.”

There was a sincerity in his voice that made you believe him, and as you looked into his eyes, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, he was right. Senior year was off to a promising start, and with Jay by your side, you knew it was going to be unforgettable.

Sim jaeyun - 심재윤

It was the first day of senior year, and the summer break had left you with more than just memories. A trip back to Korea with your mom had turned into a complete makeover experience, something you hadn’t planned but thoroughly enjoyed. You felt refreshed, like a new version of yourself, ready to tackle the final year of high school.

Walking into school that morning, you noticed the familiar buzz of excitement and nerves that always came with the start of a new school year. But this year, it felt different—maybe it was the confidence from your summer transformation, or maybe it was the realization that you were finally in your last year of school.

As you made your way through the hallway, catching up with friends and exchanging stories about summer, you suddenly heard a commotion behind you. Turning around, you saw Jake sprawled out on the floor, a mix of shock and embarrassment on his face. It took you a moment to realize what had happened: he’d tripped over his own feet while staring at you.

Jake Sim, the school clown, known for making everyone laugh with his corny jokes and ridiculous antics. To everyone else, he was the funniest guy on earth. But to you? Well, let’s just say his jokes never really hit the mark. Maybe it was because he was your neighbor, and you’d had a front-row seat to his constant comedy routine since you were kids. Over time, his jokes had gone from amusing to… well, a bit tiring.

But as much as you were used to rolling your eyes at Jake’s jokes, there was something different about the way he was looking at you now. His usual goofy grin was nowhere to be found; instead, he was staring at you like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

You arched an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “You alright there, Jake? Need some help?”

Jake quickly scrambled to his feet, brushing off his clothes as he tried to play it cool. “Y-yeah, I’m good,” he stammered, his usual confidence nowhere in sight. “Just, uh, didn’t see that… crack in the floor.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head. “Sure, Jake. Whatever you say.”

As you turned to walk away, you could feel his eyes still on you. Jake had always been the type to chase after what he couldn’t have, and you knew you were the one thing he hadn’t been able to get a hold of. Maybe that’s why he was so persistent, always trying to make you laugh, always trying to get your attention.

But today, something about the way he looked at you was different. There was a softness in his eyes, a vulnerability you hadn’t seen before. For a moment, you wondered if this year would be any different, if Jake would be different.

Before you could dwell on it, Jake called after you, his voice returning to its usual playful tone. “Hey, wait up! I need to tell you the best joke I came up with over the summer.”

You rolled your eyes, a smile creeping onto your face despite yourself. “Jake, if it’s anything like your usual material, I might just have to transfer schools.”

He laughed, falling into step beside you as you continued down the hallway. “You’ll love this one, I promise. It’s got all the elements—timing, delivery, and a punchline that’ll knock your socks off.”

“Alright, hit me with your best shot,” you said, bracing yourself for whatever corny joke he was ab'out to deliver.

But as Jake started telling his joke, you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes kept flicking to you, as if he was trying to gauge your reaction, trying to see if he could finally crack through the wall you’d built up between the two of you.

Maybe this year would be different after all.

Park sunghoon - 박성훈

The memory of that incredibly awkward encounter in the men’s bathroom was something you had tried hard to forget, but it seemed like it had lodged itself in the back of your mind permanently. And apparently, it had done the same for Sunghoon. Ever since that day, there had been this strange, unspoken tension between the two of you—a tension that had grown stronger with every passing week.

It wasn’t like you and Sunghoon had been close before. He was just another face in the sea of students, someone you occasionally passed in the hallways or shared a class with. But after that fateful day, everything changed. You couldn’t look at him without your cheeks burning, and whenever you saw him, he’d either avoid you entirely or quickly look away as if you were the sun and he might go blind from too much exposure.

Today was no different. You were sitting in the canteen with your friends, catching up on all the summer happenings. The conversation was light and easy, full of laughter and the usual teasing that came with being close for so long. Everything was perfectly normal—until Nudsie, your best friend, nudged you with her elbow.

“Hey, don’t look now, but someone’s staring at you again,” she whispered, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips.

You felt your stomach flip, already knowing who she was talking about. But still, you couldn’t resist. Your eyes flicked up, scanning the room until they landed on Sunghoon, who was sitting with his own group of friends across the canteen. Just as your eyes met, he quickly turned his head away, his movements so abrupt it was almost comical.

It was the same as it had been all week. You’d catch him staring, but the moment you looked back, he’d act like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t been studying you from afar like some sort of brooding vampire. The whole situation was driving you crazy, not to mention how awkward it made things feel.

Nudsie raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “What’s up with that? You two have been playing this weird staring game for days now.”

You sighed, pushing your food around on your tray, trying to play it off. “It’s nothing. Just… something stupid that happened last year. I’m sure it’ll blow over.”

But even as you said it, you couldn’t help but feel like this tension wasn’t going away anytime soon. Sunghoon was avoiding you, sure, but he was also watching you. There was something in the way he looked at you—something that wasn’t just about the embarrassment of that one incident. It was almost like he was trying to figure something out, like there was more to this weird tension than just what happened in the bathroom.

As the week dragged on, the stares continued. You’d see him in the hallways, in the classrooms, and even during lunch—always with that same guarded look, as if he was afraid you might suddenly bring up that embarrassing memory in front of everyone. And yet, every time your eyes met, he’d turn away so quickly it was like he was ashamed of being caught.

It was exhausting, and honestly, you were getting tired of the whole thing. How long could the two of you keep avoiding each other? How long could this ridiculous game of almost eye contact go on?

But every time you thought about confronting him, your mind flashed back to that day, and the embarrassment came rushing back tenfold. Maybe, for now, it was easier to let this strange tension linger in the air between you—unspoken, unresolved, and frustratingly awkward.

But in his case he just couldnt take his eyes off of you it wasn't even intentionally but his eyes would randomly drift in your direction, (he was down bad and he'd go home screaming in his pillow remebering both how good you look and that incident that he can't get over)

Kim sunoo - 김순우 (I relate cause SUNOO WTF)

The first day back at school after an amazing summer break was the last thing you wanted to deal with. Grumpy and irritated, you dragged yourself to class, barely able to muster the energy to interact with anyone. As soon as you reached your desk, you dropped your head on the table, hoping to catch some sleep and avoid the day altogether.

When you finally lifted your head, your eyes locked onto none other than Kim Sunoo. Over the summer, it seemed like Aphrodite herself had blessed him because he looked even more stunning than before. The sight of him looking so effortlessly gorgeous irritated you more than you could have imagined. Annoyed and frustrated, you let out a sigh and dropped your head back on the table with a loud thud.

The noise drew the attention of everyone in the room, and you could feel their eyes on you, but you couldn’t care less. Today was not the day for this, and seeing Sunoo looking like a literal god wasn’t helping. You just wanted to get through the day without losing your mind.

Yang jungwon - 양중원

The first day of school after summer break had been eventful. You had taken on the role of leader while Jungwon was away on a trip with his parents. As you walked through the hallways, you noticed the buzz around Jungwon's return. Everyone was excited to see him after three weeks.

When he finally walked into the room, the energy shifted. Conversations paused, and all eyes turned to him. But instead of greeting everyone, his gaze immediately locked onto you. His jaw dropped, and for a moment, he looked completely dumbfounded.

"You’re so beautiful," he blurted out, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked in surprise, your cheeks flushing slightly. "What?" you asked, almost not believing what you heard.

Jungwon quickly tried to recover, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away awkwardly. "I mean—uh, I was just… I meant to say hello. Yeah, just, um… hello."

You couldn’t help but smile at his flustered state. The usual composed and confident Jungwon was caught off guard, and it was all because of you. "Hello, Jungwon," you replied with a soft laugh, enjoying his reaction a little more than you probably should.

Ni- ki -남편

It was the first day back after the summer break, and the energy in the school was buzzing. Over the summer, you'd undergone a transformation that left even you in awe. As you walked through the school, heads turned, but you were more focused on the day ahead than on the attention.

During the break, Ni-ki had a basketball match to celebrate the return to school. You knew he'd be playing, and while you usually didn’t care, today you decided to watch, purely out of boredom. As the game progressed, Ni-ki was his usual self—focused, competitive, and annoyingly good. But then, something strange happened.

His eyes drifted toward the crowd, and they landed on you. You were casually leaning against the bleachers, your new look catching his attention. It was as if time slowed down for him. His focus shattered, and before he could regain it, the basketball smacked him right in the face.

You couldn't hold back your laughter. It was loud, genuine, and probably a bit mean, but the sight was just too hilarious to ignore. After the game, Ni-ki marched straight to the nurse’s office, holding his nose and glaring at you the entire way.

When he returned, a bandage over his nose, he made a beeline for you, still fuming. "This is your fault!" he accused, eyes narrowing.

You raised an eyebrow, still giggling. "My fault? I wasn't even on the court!"

Ni-ki huffed, clearly frustrated. "How the hell do you look like this?"

That caught you off guard. "Excuse me?"

He looked flustered for a moment, then crossed his arms, trying to maintain his usual defiance. "You distracted me. That's why I got hit."

You blinked, genuinely confused but also amused. "So, you're blaming me for you not paying attention? Sounds like a you problem, Ni-ki."

He opened his mouth to argue but then closed it, seemingly at a loss for words. For once, it seemed Ni-ki didn't have a snarky comeback. Instead, he just muttered something under his breath and walked off, leaving you standing there, half-smirking at his sudden, strange behavior.

his mutters (She's to pretty I can't even argue)

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explosionshark · 3 months ago

Note

ooh btvs soft shock? 👀

A while back @comradesummers made this great post about a fic idea with the concept being a no powers AU where Ted is not an insane robot from the 50s but a regular degular piece of shit abusive stepdad. And also Faith is there

In the time since making that post, she's actually started working on that fic and it's awesome and I highly recommend it but BEFORE THAT I liked it so much I started riffing on it. I was reading Summer of Night at the time and listening to "Vampires" by S and that weirdly influenced the desire to work on it at all. (Title of the WIP is from the Yeah Yeah Yeahs song though)

Anyway fuck it, I'll post the whole first chapter! I don't give a FUCK

Faith is in her usual hideaway, under the bleachers with a lit Marlboro dangling from her fingers, trying and failing to blow a smoke ring. Probably not the smartest move, sticking around on campus while she’s technically ditching Bio, but she’s not all that eager to head back to her little room at Clem’s place yet.

Being honest, and all alone in the hot and dark, Faith feels like she can afford to be a little honest, at least with herself, she’s been trying to figure out a way she can run into—

“You know, it’s almost like you’re trying to be a cliche, sometimes.”

Buffy.

Faith plays it cool, raises the cigarette back up to her lips and takes a long drag while she tilts her head to watch Buffy slink into the shade across from her. She looks good; hair loose, a little curly at the ends, tight jeans, pale blue spaghetti tank that Faith remembers was paired with a light sweater in the morning, when it was cooler. Faith wonders when she took it off, if it was folded neatly in Buffy’s locker, or stuffed at the bottom of the backpack dangling from her left hand, or if it’s draped over one of the chairs in the library, under Giles’ protection.

Buffy’s cheeks have the slightest pink flush, probably from walking across the field in the full heat of the blazing California sun. Almost definitely from that.

But she’s here with Faith instead of in class, wrinkling her nose at the smoke curling in the air between them, shuffling just the slightest bit before she settles into a lean against one of the struts of the bleachers, like she might be just the bit nervous. And if being alone with Faith sometimes makes Buffy nervous, even a little, even for just a moment, maybe it might make her blush a little too.

“Hello? Earth to Faith?”

Faith barely manages not to wince, rolling her eyes and letting out a stream of stinging smoke through her nostrils. “What do you mean ‘a cliche?’”

“Well, you know, the whole bad girl thing. Cutting class, smoking under the bleachers,” Buffy says, flicking one hand up so count off on her fingers as she speaks. “Tank top, tattoos, bad reputation.”

Faith feels the butt of the cigarette flare with heat as she takes one last drag before she flicks it to the ground, grinding it under the heel of her boots and slips into her most shit-eating grin. “Aw, c’mon, B. You know I don’t give a damn ‘bout my reputation.”

“I know,” Buffy deadpans, but the effect is a little ruined by the edge of a smirk on her lips. She even plays along a little. “Not you.”

“Besides, what’s that say about you anyway?” Faith counters, kicking off from the place she’d been leaning and stalking closer. “You came all the way out here looking for me. Seems like you’re pretty down to try out being a bad girl, at least for a little while. Curious, maybe.”

She lets her voice slip lower, hearing the grit in it, a bit of heat, her own naked want. Lets her eyes linger on Buffy for a beat too long, the way she’s always fighting to keep back, curls her lip in the way that never fails to make boys, at least, sit up a little straighter for her.

Because she can't really help herself, and more and more, it feels like it's working. Buffy's gone from pointedly ignoring it when Faith flirts, to flushing and changing the subject, to even flirting back a few times.

Faith figures whatever it is she's trying to do, it's a little like the lotto: can't win if you don't play.

And today she doesn't exactly score a win, but she gets something near enough to one. Buffy flushes a little pinker, eyes flicking away for a second, tongue darting out to wet her lips before she snaps back into the casual confidence she usually projects. “Not if it comes with that filthy habit and a 2.5 grade average.”

Faith flinches a little before she can stop herself. “2.8,” she corrects, trying not to feel stung. It's passing, after all, and it's better than she did last year at her old school. Faith shuffles in place, itching for another cigarette just so she’d have something to do with her hands while Buffy stares her down like that. “So, alright, spill. What'd you come down here for? Whaddya want?”

“Just… Needed to get out of class. Wanted to be alone for a bit,” Buffy says, after a pause.

“You came to find me to be alone?” Faith repeats, this time she's not even trying to flirt, even though her mind races a little at the possibilities.

“Well, not alone, obviously just with— not with, y’know, Xander and Willow and—”

“Not with your friends.”

“Not with those friends,” Buffy corrects, catching Faith’s gaze and holding it. Faith’s heart does a stupid little tha-thump in her chest. “I was upset when I came to school this morning, and now they won’t stop fussing at me over it.”

Faith pauses, not sure if she should ask. On the one hand, Buffy might have said it to give Faith an opening to follow up on. Maybe she wants an excuse to talk. On the other, she just said she didn’t want to be fussed over. Faith can feel sweat start to bead at her hairline, the shade of the bleachers not enough to offset the scorching midday heat. Buffy won’t stop watching her.

“Upset about what?” Faith asks, finally, pressing the side of her tongue flat between her molars right after.

Buffy sighs and Faith immediately curses herself — you fucked up, she made it so obvious, all you had to do was say anything else— until Buffy says, “Can I try one of those?”

It takes Faith a beat to realize what she means. “You want a smoke?”

Buffy shrugs, like it’s nothing. “I want to try it. See what the big deal is. Why you and so many other people are willing to risk lung cancer and yellow teeth over those things.”

Faith scowls. “My teeth are fine.”

Still, she reaches into the pack in her back pocket and taps a Marlboro out into Buffy’s outstretched palm.

Buffy examines the cigarette for a moment, giving it a cursory sniff, nose wrinkling again but not in the slightly grossed out way it usually does when Faith lights one up.

“The smoke isn’t for everyone, but I always thought tobacco smelled kinda nice,” Faith says, stupidly, for no reason. Sure, it's the truth, but it's not like Buffy asked. But the fact that she can't seem to keep her mouth shut around the other girl has been Faith’s problem for months.

Buffy nods though and slips the filter into her mouth, pink glossed lips pursing around it enticingly. Faith lets herself have a beat to appreciate the sight before she withdraws the shitty highlighter yellow Bic she’d stolen from 7-Eleven a few weeks ago. Buffy tries clumsily to light the cigarette but she’s awful at it — can’t seem to hold the flame in the right place, doesn’t cup her hand to protect it from stray breezes, lets the fire die before the smoke manages to catch. Faith steps forward, not thinking, and plucks the lighter from Buffy’s fingertips, leaning in close, close enough to see the flecks of brown in her green eyes, close enough to smell the faint fruitiness of whatever body spray she’d used earlier, close enough to notice when Buffy’s breath catches in her throat, the quick dart of her eyes down to the blue-white flame of the lighter, up to Faith’s face, and back.

“Breathe in,” Faith instructs, low, quiet, proud of how steady her hand stays despite the wild thump of her heart.

Buffy does and the tip of the cigarette glows orange when Faith kills the lighter flame.

“You got it,” Faith says, stepping back, slipping her hands back into her pockets.

Buffy nods, and opens her mouth, smoke floating tepidly out.

Faith rolls her eyes, “Weak. B, you’ve gotta inhale, or else what’s the point.”

Buffy frowns and breathes in around the cigarette, immediately letting the smoke out between her lips again.

“C’mon,” Faith groans, reaching out and snatching the cigarette away, heedless of Buffy’s affronted ‘hey!’. “Don’t be afraid of it,” Faith says. She fits the filter between her own lips, mutters around it, “You gotta just—”

A smooth long inhale, and there's the slightly acrid tang across her palate, that feeling in her mouth, heavier than air, a lock inside her clicking open as she pushes the smoke back out a moment later, watching it dissipate between them, gray and white and then nothing at all.

Faith twists her hand out, holding the cigarette for Buffy, expecting her to snatch it back, slightly startled when Buffy leans forward instead, her lips brushing the skin on the insides of Faith’s fingers as she inhales, deeply this time.

It probably would be hot enough to short circuit Faith’s whole brain, to make her think of doing something really stupid, really reckless, like maybe closing the rest of the distance between them, like maybe kissing the smoke right out of Buffy’s mouth.

But she doesn’t get the chance because immediately Buffy wretches and coughs, face flushing its brightest pink yet, but not in a sexy, exciting way.

“Ugh!” she groans, while Faith laughs and slaps her back. Buffy spits onto the ground, bent over, and thrusts the cigarette wildly away towards Faith. “Yeah, okay, that’s disgusting.”

“Is not. Quit being a baby.” Faith snatches the cigarette back, twisting to stub the cherry out carefully on the side of her boot and slipping the half-smoked cigarette back into her pack for later.

“Agree to disagree,” Buffy’s voice is rough from coughing, there’s a teariness to her eyes that, disconcertingly, Faith can’t help but find a little sexy. “But you’re wrong.”

“Well, guess that settles it,” Faith shakes her head with exaggerated pity. “Not getting your bad girl diploma any time soon.”

“Guess not. Looks like I’m going to have to settle for the regular kind instead,” Buffy croaks. “Eugh, I might throw up.”

“No you won’t,” Faith rolls her eyes. “C’mon.”

She yanks Buffy’s backpack up from where it was dropped onto the ground, hooking one of the straps over her shoulder, using her other hand to steer Buffy out from under the bleachers and toward the gap in the fence around the school’s field, the one that lets out into the street.

“Where are we going?” Buffy asks, not shrugging away from the light pressure of Faith’s hand on the small of her back.

“It’s hot as hell out here,” Faith answers. “You’re buying me a soda.”

Buffy snorts but doesn’t complain and ten minutes later they’re tucked into one of the booths at the coffee shop Buffy likes, Faith nursing a too-sweet Italian soda while Buffy sips sullenly at an iced mocha. Faith always feels out of place in joints like this, populated with college kids and people with desk jobs and shoes that cost more than Faith’s TV. But Buffy looks like she fits in — like she's made for nice things, so perfectly suited to living comfortably that she doesn’t even notice that’s what she’s doing. Perfectly at ease, except for the downward turn of lips, the troubled look that won’t quite leave her eyes now that it’s quiet between them and she’s not distracted.

Faith’s trying to think of something to say, hating the way she gets smaller and quieter in places where she sticks out like this. “So. School’s out next week. You leaving right away or…?”

Faith wants to sound nonchalant, cool, like it doesn’t put a knot in her stomach to think about Buffy taking off to Los Angeles for the whole summer. Like she hasn’t studied the bus routes form Sunnydale to the neighborhood Buffy says she used to live in.

Buffy flinches. “I’m not going.”

“What?” Faith sits up straighter, almost knocking over her soda. “But you said—”

“My dad’s not picking us up this year,” Buffy mutters, staring down at the melting whipped cream atop her coffee. “He’s got work stuff, so instead of me and Dawn going to LA, he’s going to come down for a week in August and help me move into the dorm. He said it was his idea but Ted’s been talking about wanting me and Dawn to stick close to home this summer. Family bonding. And you know my mom goes along with basically whatever he wants. So, I don't know.”

Faith’s stomach swoops, teeth aching from the sweetness of the drink and the sudden tightness of her own jaw. “They told you last night?”

“Yeah,” Buffy says. “Just to kill any chance of me enjoying the last week of school, I guess.”

I’m sorry, B, Faith almost says and catches herself. Sorry for what? She didn’t do this. And what’s more, she remembers how it felt, when people said that to her. Patronizing, meaningless, stupid.

“Step-dick in action,” Faith mutters, instead and Buffy musters a weak little laugh at that, at least.

“You’re telling me. I'm supposed to be going to graduation parties and figuring out how to make a cap and gown look cute, not getting stomach aches every time I think about what I'll be doing next week.”

Faith doesn't know what to say to that, so she asks, “How’d Dawn take it?”

Buffy rolls her eyes. “Better than me, I guess. She responds well to bribery — dad’s paying for her to do this theater day camp thing that Amanda’s signed up for.”

Buffy's always doing that. Talking about people and things like Faith already knows all the details of her life, the people in it, who they are and why they're important. Amanda must be one of Pipsqueak’s friends, Faith can guess that much, but still.

It's worse when they're around Buffy's other friends, the shorthand they have, the familiarity and inside jokes that make Faith feel like such an outsider. Sometimes, usually when it's just the two of them, Faith thinks it might be kind of nice, a good thing: that she and Buffy haven't even known each other a full year and Buffy seems to forget that. Like Faith fits so well in Buffy's life she could have been there all along. Other times, it's frustrating and embarrassing, reminding Faith of just how much of a late addition she is, how different she is, how out of place.

“‘Course that wouldn’t work on you,” Faith says after a beat too long, feeling awkward, but trying not to sound like it. “Too much integrity.”

“Exactly.” A goofy, emphatic nod from Buffy.

“Not a bad enough girl.” Faith teases, knocking her boot against Buffy’s calf beneath the table.

Buffy blows a raspberry and sinks back into her booth, pouting cutely, kicking her back harder. “I’m sure Ted would disagree. According to him I'm the baddest girl in Bad Town.”

“Probably not the only thing we’d disagree on,” Faith agrees mildly. “Sucks, though. Know you were looking forward to getting out here. Seeing your dad.”

Buffy stirs her drink, takes a loud sip that rattles the ice cubes. “Dad’s been blowing us off more and more lately, so I’m almost used to it. Honestly, I don’t even mind staying in Sunnydale, it’s just—”

“Him.”

Buffy’s eyes flick up to meet Faith’s.

They haven’t talked about it a lot. When Faith rolled into town earlier this year, when she’d met Buffy, it had been right after the wedding. She’d been plainly miserable, had gotten into trouble that landed her in detention, which is how they’d even really started talking in the first place. Ted was old friends with Principal Snyder, apparently. Buffy swore the miserable old geek rode them even harder because of Ted’s complaints about her.

And here Buffy wasn't exaggerating: Ted had plenty of complaints. Buffy was too wilful — she didn’t try to make their family work. She spoke back to Ted, lied and cheated, was a bad influence on her younger sister, didn’t show the proper respect to adults. Anything Buffy did, he found a way to be upset or offended about. When she’d been dating that college guy, Angel, Ted gave invasive lectures about the dangers of ‘not protecting her virtue.’ When Buffy’d been dumped (on Prom night, no less), Ted had lamented the sudden absence of a ‘guiding male influence’ in Buffy’s life. Worse than all of this, he’d been disturbingly successful at making every conflict out to look like Buffy’s fault, leading to increasingly bitter arguments between Buffy and her mother.

He was controlling, manipulative, condescending and mean, all in a way that no one else seemed to really notice.

In short: Ted was a massive fucking dick.

He didn’t hit them, Faith was pretty sure. And nothing Buffy said or did made Faith think he might be the most severe kind of creep. The few times Faith had seen them interact, she’d watched carefully - his hands didn’t linger too long, his gaze was never leering and greedy, he didn’t crowd them with his body. But there was a tension to him, an anger barely suppressed that Faith recognized immediately. Something dark and cold lurking behind that bland smile, the firm handshake he’d offered her.

“Yeah,” Buffy finally says, releasing the mangled red plastic straw she’d been flattening between her teeth. “I just wish I didn’t have to be around him. At least Dawn will be at camp most of the day.”

“You… I mean, my place is kind of a dive, but if you need somewhere to stay…” Faith knows it’s stupid, but she offers anyway.

Buffy laughs, and she’s not trying to be mean, Faith can tell, and somehow that makes it sting a little worse when she says. “Puh-lease. Can you imagine? My mom would flip. Ted would probably chain me to a radiator or something if he thought I was running away.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Faith mumbles, heat scorching up her neck.

Buffy doesn’t seem to notice. She’s staring down at her cup of ice again, swirling it absently with her bent straw. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do. Stay out as much as possible, I guess.”

“So, basically what you’ve already been doing.”

“Yeah. But more.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah. Guess Xander and Willow are gonna have to get used to seeing a lot more of me,” Buffy says. “And you.”

And she smiles, small but sincere, across the table. Almost shy, like she really means it, something natural and honest and just for Faith. And just like that Faith finds herself smiling back, that hot, painful little coal of resentment burning in her chest a breath ago snuffed out in an instant.

#btvs #Fuffy #faith lehane #i got like halfway through a second chapter and just kinda fell off writing it #explosionfic #added the Home Away from Home link bc i forgot it the first time

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