#they are not even homophobes the gay guy kicks ass why do they do this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tenderlyrenjun · 2 years ago

Text

Married

(Jisung ver.)

minors + inactive/empty blogs do not interact; fic rec blogs do not reblog without comments

a/n: repost, sorry; if people still hate it, I’ll take it down but please stop telling me that my fics suck; please be nice, i'm having a rough time in life and I wrote this in like 2-3/ish days … I’ve just been thinking about Jisung a lot; I think he’s neat

word count: > 12k (sorry)

married (og, jeno ver)

edit: oppa kink removed.

includes … afab reader, tw jewellery, tw food (not in a sexual way) established relationship, unusually clingy jisung, non-marriage proposals, reciprocal ‘ooooh you want me so bad’ dynamic, better than gold TDS2 in BKK body rolls mention, implied (and wrong) experienced virgins, lots of making out, hair pulling, oral sex (m + f receiving), lowkey exhibitionism, sex in a supply closet, first times, ass grabbing, vague choking, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, thigh job (m + f receiving), fingering, lowkey size kink/difference, creampie consent – homophobes dni; mark + doyoung are gay

again, minors + inactive/empty blogs do not interact

“Hey, my dad said Doyoung asked you to be the ring bearer.”

Jisung tears his attention from the engineering student portal as you kick your way through the blankets, teetering candy boxes over a bowl of popcorn, path dimly lit by the TV and Renjun’s candles. He offered, about twenty minutes ago, before you stockpiled half his snacks on the couch with him, to gather the food, but you assigned him to pull out the cushions into a kind of bed setting. It only took a couple seconds, as it always does for him, which is why, since the last movie night, he’s had an inkling suspicion that you keep having him unfold the couch. That, or you want to keep him out of the kitchen, on account of all the times he dropped and sprayed soda all over the floor. He makes up for it!, he hopes, like earlier when he got all the snacks from the convenience store downstairs – at 10 PM, if he might add. Granted, his long legs make the trip shorter than if you went, with or without him. Actually, once, or twice, or a few times really, whenever you go with him on those allegedly short walks across the road, it extends an hour, two hours, past midnight, not that he minds. Jisung never minds; he uses it as an excuse to take a break from the studying he scarcely does – on the surface, of course. His more romantic side holds your hand and tells you that he just likes spending this time with you because you study too much at the lounge in Square Garden.

“Yeah,” Jisung answers, “Doyoung asked his morning.” He takes the candies from you first, then the popcorn, helping you settle comfortably below the thin throw blanket next to him. A soda can slides down with the new incline and he catches it with his foot, placing the bowl between your thigh and his, beside the other snacks. “Apparently, his fiancé didn’t confirm anything, and they were a party member short,” he shrugs. “Are you still the flower girl?”

You nod, “mmhmm,” then crack open the soda he caught; you put two straws inside, pulling the blue one (his) a little bit taller. “Jeno thought I was going to be a grooms-woman though and asked if we were walking down the aisle together.”

Jisung scrunches his nose. That doesn’t even make sense. You all – him, Jeno, you, Renjun, Jeno’s girlfriend, etc. – are attending the wedding from Doyoung’s side of the family, at an unequal ration (he and his fiancé have three grooms-people each; you wouldn’t be able to walk with Jeno). But he makes no corrective comment, instead slowly unwrinkling his mouth. “I don’t think his girlfriend would like that.” Because he wouldn’t like it very much, no matter how many times he tells you that he’s not a jealous guy.

Jisung quickly takes a small sip of Cola while you still have it in your hands, and you raise an eyebrow.

“Why? You don’t trust me?”

He slurps a little too hard, choking on the sudden rush of soda down his throat, and pulls off. “No, that’s not – of course, I do –“ Then, you start laughing, and he pushes your chest, another smile widening into his cheeks. “Ah, you’re so …”

“So what?” you bounce back, knocking your shoulder into him. “So lovely? So pretty? So Park Jisung’s girlfriend?”

Jisung catches you with both hands, an arm wrapping around your shoulders, his fingers grazing your cheek. He pulls a serious frown that doesn’t quite meet the curve in his eyebrow. “Mmhm, yeah,” he answers the last one, leaning in tighter. “You’re so Park Jisung’s girlfriend.” His lips almost touch yours, thumb tilting your face upward, breath a poor, poor substitute for your tongue. “Don’t forget it.”

You wrap your hand under his wrist, pushing his arm up a bit further. He casts his eyes toward yours for a second but sees you staring at his parted lips. Your tongue peaks its tip, briefly catching his most prominent tubercle. “Never.”

You make the first move, for him, thankfully, because he debated, too long, how to proceed with you still carrying the soda in your lap. His broad shoulders envelop you when you fist his hoodie, dragging him and the collar down, zipper chafing his bare sternum. Jisung braces a hand on the couch, somewhere near your hip that his index finger feels, steadying the both of you upright. It only lasts a second, before you both fall into the pillows, and the cushions barely support you two, so you cling to each other. He readjusts your hips under him, your knee bending to avoid the popcorn bowl, which probably already spilled. Your hand slips into the split ends of his hair and pulls, drawing out all his breath, making his hand slip under your ass.

Then you pull harder, and his breath becomes audible, becomes a moan.

You – and he – learned this evil little fact somewhere around the seventh month mark – his hair pulling kink. Jisung met you after a particularly long evening class, holding a thin bouquet of pink tulips and couple bracelets in his trench coat. He kissed the top of your head, an arm wrapped around your shoulders, hiding you and your backpack in his large jacket, on the way to his car. You made it to the restaurant about 10 minutes early, but the table ran late, so the both of you sat in the backseat, pointing out the moon in mirror’s reflection, talking and talking until you were no longer talking, kind of like now. And you pulled the ends of his hair, nails grazing into his scalp, to get him on top. You ended up being late to you reservation.

“J-Jisung,” you whisper, cut off by the harder he presses his lips.

He shifts around the couch, aligning you perpendicular to the snacks, better lit by the candlelight, straight against the original layout, your head on the arm rest now – all without breaking the kiss. And his hands get more frantic, taking away the soda, mauling your hips, flipping his fingers repeatedly over your waistband.

“Is this too far?” Jisung asks when his thumbs sink above your underwear. He can feel the tiny organza flowers bulging into his finger pads. You both have gone through most of the bases, with each other – been making out, hot and heavy, since your fourth date; groping each other over and under your clothes since the second month; touching each other a little more south since that seventh month mark. He has seen you naked, too! Well, mostly naked; sometimes you wear his hoodie or only your underwear, which leaves little to the imagination, but still, he hovers and asks.

Your eyes blink slowly, opening just a crack but so obvious in the dark. He waits for you to look at him, following you up his neck to his face. You bite your lip a tiny bit, right in the middle, almost imperceptible until you let go, and he pecks you once, pulling away just as quickly even though your lips trail after him.

“No,” you mumble, also fast, jutting out your chin to kiss him again, sliding your arms around his neck, hands down between his shoulder blades. “Jisung, please, keep going. I want – I want to –“ You suck in a breath and center yourself (and him). “I want you.”

Jisung grunts your name, popping his chest like a dance move before he locks himself onto you, rolling your torso with him. He presses your hips down, deeper into the couch. Your shins stand up, outlining him, giving his dick a small crevice between your pants against which to rub. Instinctively, he bites his lip – and yours, and you yelp, prompting him to apologize, but you yank him even closer, nails clawing into his cheeks. You slip your plump tongue into his mouth, drawing his out, and your lips feel even softer on his tongue as you kiss around it, kind of like that time you gave him head, back when you still lived in the dorms on campus. He barely fit those days, and each thrust would drag your lips back into your mouth with him; he basically trained you, since then, to take his entire length in one stroke. Same with his long fingers beneath your panties, which now unbutton your trousers. He crosses your leg one on top of the other, pausing, on his knees, to grind against your ass. And you both roll your eyes shut, incoherent mumblings spilling down both your tongues without the other to mash them away. Jisung dives down again, both hands shimmying off your pants while he kisses you, equally fervent.

But once he gets them down your ankles, your feet prepared to kick them off, the lights turn on.

“Oh!” Renjun groans from the entrance, a brown grocery bag covering his eyes as he makes his way into the kitchen behind the couch. “Could you not do that on the communal furniture? Please?”

Maybe Jisung takes Renjun’s words a little too closely to heart, or maybe he wants to save money by booking a multiroom suite with his friends, or maybe he really wants to make love to his beautiful girlfriend who he has known for years now, because he agrees with his friends on the shared unit, like his apartment with Renjun, for Doyoung’s weekend wedding in mid-Seoul near the Han River. Jaemin convinced everyone that they would need a place to rest and get dressed without having to make the hour/hour and a half drive back to their apartments in upper Seoul. The hotel also gives Jisung the excuse to sleep next to you (just sleep, Renjun glared, traumatized after your date night), which he absolutely loves, in a different way, laying on your chest, matching your breath, siphoning off some of warmth to you.

It was the first thing you both did when you got to your rooms – sleep.

Jisung dropped your duffel bag and his – both couple items – in an open armoire while you settled his smaller backpack on the vanity. Neither of you opened any bags, wordlessly and simultaneously collapsing on the singular king-sized bed. You sprawled out for a couple seconds, then searched for each other’s hands in the sheets. He turned to you first, after you intertwined your fingers, and kissed your knuckles, one at a time, doubling back on your ring finger. It made you giggle, which made him giggle.

“Ah, I like being here with you,” he confessed, flopping against the mattress again, brushing away his bangs from his forehead, a dumb, gummy smile spreading up his face.

He never told you this, but a few months into dating, when you accidentally stayed the night at his apartment for the first time, falling asleep on his full-sized bed while he finished a last-minute assignment, Jisung had this epiphany where he realized that he likes this, likes sharing a bed with you (he almost asked you to move in, but that would have been way too soon, especially for a couple of kids). Then, after he fixed your hair, tied it into a ponytail sometime before sunrise for a hiking date along the Yeongbong Peak Trail, he realized that he likes the intimacy of being with you, his girlfriend. And he finds himself, this weekend, on the second evening staying at the hotel, looking for all those moments of intimacy.

Like now, he sits on the end-of-the-bed bench, watching you fix your eye makeup in the mirror according to Doyoung’s navy and gold rehearsal dinner, matching a shimmering highlight with the trim in the slit of your maxi dress. You wore this same dress – and him the same matching suit – to some European restaurant with him a couple months ago. No special occasion that time; you just met him at a restaurant for date night after not seeing him all two weeks of midterm season. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, people said when he was younger and naïve and didn’t quite understand them enough to believe, but he got it instantly, in that moment, and essentially made a vow never to be that far from you again – probably why he seeks and prolongs these moments of intimacy, and why he likes your dress so much, among a few other reasons.

“Are you finished?” you call, a little garbled as your mouth hangs while you apply mascara.

“Almost.” Jisung looks down at the loose tie around his neck. “Just need to fix one last thing.” He looks back toward you, and you look beautiful and mostly finished, not that he knows, entirely, what look you will be completing. He just thinks you are always pretty. “Are you almost done?”

“Not really.” You pull away from the bathroom mirror, blinking a few times, then turn to him. “How does this look – Oh, are you not wearing the couple watch tonight?”

“No, I am.” Jisung points to his silver watch on the table at the other side of the room with his black blazer. “Are you wearing yours?”

You nod. “Yeah, I just need to add some lipstick and jewellery, and I’ll be done.”

Jisung stands up and crosses the room to get behind you. He lifts your hair in an impromptu ponytail, making sure to grab lowly as not to ruin what you have done so far. “I'll help you,” he half-requests, gently, already pulling your long necklace into place and clasping it at the perfect length. He spins you around to add the bracelets and watch, but you have yet to finish applying makeup, so he holds your hands and kisses you slowly, like the scene of a movie (or an artsy porno).

You put a hand on his arm, jerking him forward, leaning on the door frame. He tilts his head a little bit left, nose brushing into your cheek, and you copy him enough for him to feel your breath on his face. Ever since the first time he kissed you longer than a simple peck, Jisung has been obsessed with all the ways he can elongate a simple kiss. One way you do, and this doubles as giving him consent, is by wrapping your arms around his neck, which you do now, hiking your leg, through your slit, around his waist high up, practically sitting on the sink counter. It gives him a better angle, more comfortable, against the height difference, to bend his neck. Jisung hikes your other leg around his waist, sandwiching you between him and the wall, thigh supported by the sink, an ass cheek supported by his large hand, his pelvis pressing too tightly into yours. He brushes your hair to the side and presses a trail of quick kisses down your jaw that have your breath elevated, turning into whispered moans of his name that he has to kiss quiet.

You hold his chin still, about to return the trail of kisses, when three knocks hit the bedroom door.

“Are you guys do – Oh, come on,” Jeno groans, throwing his hands in toward the exit, swinging his entire body away from the bathroom (a private bathroom, Jisung mentally adds). “Wrap it up, people. Jaemin is one perfume spray from being ready, and we’re already five minutes late for the rehearsal dinner.”

Jeno leaves as quickly as he entered, but Jisung still scrunches his nose, making a small annoyed face at the door. You tap his arm quickly a few times, and he steps back, helping you hop down the counter.

“So … do you still need help?”

You deadpan at him. “Out.”

“Is it always that bad or am I just noticing it now?” you call from the bathroom again.

Jisung laughs and pauses the TikTok on his phone. “What? You don’t want to marry me?”

You point a half-used wet wipe at him, brown eyeliner smudged past the corner of your eyebrow. “You proposed to me twice!”

Jisung rolls his eyes and onto his stomach over the bed. “One of those doesn’t even count!” During your two-year anniversary picnic at the Han River, a few months ago, he proposed the idea of proposing when he saw a kid with a red candy Ring Pop. You didn’t turn him down, citing that you both already had platinum couple rings, and he proposed on the spot with his, even getting halfway down on a knee before you toppled him into the grass. Okay, maybe that one counts; Jisung rubs the back of his neck. “But all the aunties thought we were cute!” During the rehearsal dinner, they kept bringing up a follow-up wedding with all the couples – you and Jisung, Jeno and his girlfriend, Mark and his boyfriend. All of you treaded around the conversation, as if none of you have had The Talk with your partners yet, even though Jisung knows that Mark has a ring ready and Jeno has a date planned (and he has a proposal in mind).

You turn off the bathroom lights and quickly jump into the bed, hiding your bare legs under the blanket without him, fluffing his extra-large hoodie over your head.

Jisung frowns and scoots into bed with you. “Did it really bother you that much?” He knows that he jokes about marriage from time to time, probably brings it up one too many times, but he is serious about it. If you said yes, he would marry you in an instant. You would wait anyways, for a big ceremony, until the both of you finish your degrees and have jobs, him delayed a few semesters due to military service before school, but he would marry you in an instant. “I can talk to the aunties tomorrow, so they don’t bring it up again.”

“No, Sung,” you backpedal. “It’s just that I never noticed it before. Of course, I want to marry you. We’ve just never really talked about the details before. We don’t even live together.”

Jisung settles into the pillows, dragging you down with him, into his arms. “We could,” he whispers. And you look up at him, eyes wide, a hand over his on your stomach. “Move in, and talk about all the details. We could move in together, you know. Maybe not on Monday or anything, but, like, next semester or next year, or something like that. We could wait until after college, too, if –“

“Jisung?”

“… Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Jisung sighs, in relief this time, melting a little bit deeper into the mattress, free hand taking his forehead temperature. “I love you, too.” He rolls on his side and buries his face in your neck, curling his long leg over your bare thighs. You comb his hair behind his ear a few times before he starts kissing your neck, sneaking into the hoodie with you – there’s enough room for two people if he squeezes.

“Jisung,” you sigh quietly. He looks up, catching you close your eyes, mouth parting enough for your tongue to peek out a bit, flat with the way you bite it. And he kisses your neck again, a quick, wet one, licking his lips so closely that his tongue catches your skin. Sometimes he doesn’t have exactly the right words, so he rambles through the entire dictionary until he finds the right one. He also really likes kissing you. “Jisung,” you sigh again, a little bit louder, more enunciated over the wet smacks that he tries to make chaste, given the brief conversation about marriage. “Mmm, Jisung.”

But like he said, he would marry you in an instant.

Jisung kisses your neck a little longer, a little harder, slipping around the column to find a perfect vein that makes you whimper his name exactly the same again. And pliantly, your head lulls into his palm, kissing his life lines almost deliberately. Jisung turns you back to him with the same palm, pyjama pants rolling your legs open, wide enough for him to slip between. He grinds down, the first kiss to your lips, fingers coiling in the hair behind your head, freehand pulling a thigh up his back. You seem to get the hint, tying your feet on his spine, pushing your heels down to trap him.

“If we – if we move in together,” you breathe, eyes closed, lips pursed, “I don’t think we’ll get very much sleep – Jisung – ah!”

Jisung coasts his throbbing boner through your lips, milling his pants against your underwear. His waistband starts folding over itself, exposing his Adonis belt further and further and further, until his ass is half out, almost matching the way your underwear tangles between your cheeks. He brings you up closer, pulling your head off the pillows, fully kneeling, making indents in the sheets.

“I want it,” he tells you, hauling you into his lap, making you straddle him backwards, “I want to move in together, to sleep together, to sleep together.” He squeezes you against the headboard, quietly banging it against the wall just once, then louder a second time as you meet him, equally, trying to fuse your bodies together. His hands start roaming, and your hands start roaming, only settling on the best place to knead each other – his broad shoulders and your ass. “I’m not just saying it, I promise.” You stare at him a few milliseconds, searching his eyes, then kiss him even rougher, making him lose balance, and he accidentally kicks the headboard harder.

“We’ll talk about it later,” you tell him, mouths misaligned, kissing around his cupid’s bow specifically. And Jisung sucks in a huge breath, holding it right there in his chest, gravitating the entire Earth’s rotation around his, well, his penis, the lifeline, right now, to his brain and heart. Then you whisper, “I want it, too. All of it,” and he exhales and flips you on your back, making you yelp and giggle, which makes him giggle.

“Right now, I want you.”

Jisung leans down again, half a centimeter from your lips … when a loud bang comes from the adjourning wall, accompanied by your names. He looks up at it, mouth still puckered, hoping that the sound came from you two. Sensing nothing, he kisses you again, and a moan escapes him, and the banging comes back.

"Jisung," Jaemin shouts. “I can’t tell if you’re just watching porn too loud or you’re trying to have sex in a hotel room that you share with your best friends, but it’s 3 AM, and we have to be up at 7 for the wedding, so, for the love of God, please go to sleep.”

You laugh out loud, and Jisung covers your mouth with one hand. Then, as expected, Jaemin hits the wall again.

“Hello?? What did I just tell Jisung?”

“Yo!” Mark wanders into your room, eyes covered his long blond hair and a single hand. The other blindly feels around the air, as not to bump into anything, but he still hits the end-of-the-bed bench where yours and Jisung’s clothes are neatly packed in black suit protector bags. “Are you decent?” he asks, stopping in place, “The guys sent me to see if you’re ready yet.” He spins his wrist in the air. “Something about not wanting to deal with –“ Mark takes a chance and peaks through his fingers … only to find you and Jisung sharing wired earbuds, laughing at a stupid, silly, little TikTok. He breathes a quick sigh, petting down his chest, then deadpans and grabs a pillow, throwing it at you two. “Hey!” He snaps his fingers. You both finally look up. “Time to go, losers. My boyfriend’s already pulled the car around; Jeno left 30 minutes ago; and the makeup artists started on the Doyoung's fiance’s groomsmen.”

You and Jisung make no move to get up.

“Hello? Now, please,” Mark practically orders.

“Um,” Jisung squeaks. He scrunches his nose, pressing his tongue on his bottom lip, in lieu of biting. It’s still a bit swollen from last night, when you both kept kissing each other through messy hand jobs, wanting the first time that you actually have real, penetrative sex to be more freeing. But still, he did have sex last night, and the reminders show, under the blanket, where you don’t wear pants. “Can you give us, like, two minutes to get dressed?” He gestures to the heap of blankets.

Mark throws his head back. “You’re not even dressed? Of course, you’re not.” He groans. “Okay, you have five minutes to be downstairs, or you’re driving yourselves.”

The moment Mark walks out the door, Jisung asks, “Should we just Uber there?”

You smack him with a pillow. “The makeup artist has to get both of us ready. We’re in the wedding party.” Jisung flails over that pillow, making you drop it, and you roll your eyes, getting up like Mark requested.

“Ugh.” He hugs the pillow tightly, covering the dick imprint in his boxers. “The wedding doesn’t even start until 3. We could have time to just …” Jisung watches you take off your sticky black panties and pull on even smaller ones, words trailing off, because now his 7 AM boner remembers how he kissed you until 5 AM; how your hands squeezed above his balls, while he slid his entire length in the crevice of your thigh; how he fingered you with three long digits, thumb pinching down on your clit. Then you catch him staring a little south of the hoodie you stole from the last time he did laundry (Thursday, when you slept over), and he finishes his sentence. “To – to just re-relax.”

You roll your eyes again and put on the Adidas sweatpants that Jisung bought you a few months ago. “Let’s go, Jisung.” And he rolls his eyes, sticking his tongue out his jaw.

"Fine, but you owe me a kiss."

Jisung accepts, or, really, takes his kiss, outside the hotel. He stops you a couple steps down the short perron, dress storage bag, hitting his thigh from how fast he moves. And - while Mark leans against his boyfriend's car, calling Renjun and Jaemin down, who are also late - Jisung gives himself the time, the moment, to pucker his lips.

But it turns into a longer kiss, backing up Renjun and Jaemin, who were not as late as he thought.

“Two and a half years, and you still suck face? Are you two even dating or just making out all the time?” Renjun shakes his head sarcastically. And Jisung pushes him into Jaemin, who catches him easily.

“Ay-yo??” Mark calls from the street, hand over his eyes like a visor. “We’re late, let’s goooo.”

In the car, Mark and his boyfriend take the driver and passenger seats, obviously, and Jaemin and Jeno’s girlfriend sit in the pop-up row in the trunk, leaving you, Renjun, and Jisung – the smallest and tallest of the group – in the middle, much to Renjun’s protest. Though, he only jokes about this stuff; he actually thinks that the both of you are “so cute” if his cuteness aggression is anything to go off. Sometimes he throttles you two, and Jisung is scared that he might get bitten (by someone who isn’t you).

The drive to the venue (re: other hotel) is only 15 minutes, so everyone tries to stay silent, on their phones, still waking up, not even properly dressed, but Jisung, of course, breaks it, laughing and mouthing stop through his gummy smile after you respond to his TikTok.

[Boyfriend ♡, 7:13 A.M.]

hey, look at this

[Boyfriend ♡, 7:13 A.M.]

https://tiktok...com

[Girlfriend ♡♡, 7:14 A.M.]

Are you trying to tell me something?

[Girlfriend ♡♡, 7:15 A.M.]

Andy Park? 🤨

“Ah, stop,” Jisung blushes. He rubs up your thigh and buries his face in your neck, lips curling into your skin prominently enough to act like another kiss. You sneak your hand around his head, combing out his bed hair.

“What?” you whisper in his ear, brushing away the longer strands. “Not going to propose a third time?”

Jisung covers your mouth and presses a quick kiss to your neck. “Someone’s going to hear you.” If it were any other situation, he would take you on the suggestion, half-jokingly proposing with whatever couple ring he happened to be wearing at the time. Mostly, he wants it to be an intimate proposal, just the two of you, eyes on each other; the after party, when you tell everyone, can be the bigger affair, but Jisung wants to see the ring slide down your finger and hear your answer clearly with his own ears. He peeks an eye and finds you already staring at him, cooing. “Why? Do you want me to propose again?”

Dramatically, you take off your ring and plop it in his palm. He laughs, audibly, breaking the silence again, but slips it down your finger regardless.

“Ehhh,” you grimace at it, playfully, twirling your hand in the sunlight, “Same ring.”

Jisung grabs you by the neck and kisses you quiet this time, only pulling away to peck your lips repeatedly. His thumb brushes into your cheek, fingers drawing you in, tilting your head at the perfect angle to slip his tongue down your throat. Your head falls pliantly, supported by his wrist that you hold, following every twist and turn he makes to kiss you harder.

“Okay! Here! Everyone out of my car!” Mark’s boyfriend shouts, loudly shifting the car into neutral a few steps from the Grand Hyatt Seoul. He looks pointedly at you and Jisung breathing heavily through the rearview mirror. “Especially you two.”

[Girlfriend ♡♡, 12:14 P.M.]

Meet me in the lobby

[Girlfriend ♡♡, 12:14 P.M.]

I have a surprise for you ^^

Jisung waits on a cushion bench, fully dressed in his navy tuxedo, silver accessories hidden under his sleeves and high collar to accommodate Doyoung's wedding theme. He scrolls back through your car ride conversation, since he has the time, smiling to himself, curling into himself, covering his mouth as he kicks his feet forward like a middle schooler with a crush.

You are continuously cute in his eyes, and, as he relives this reminder of just how cute you are, Jisung doesn't know how he got so lucky. Sure, yeah, you two make out ... a lot, as Renjun pointed out, but he also finds you incredibly compatible. You send him pictures of the moon at night and the sun in the morning; you go out with him at 1 in the morning to the good fish-shaped bread cart (the one by Jamsil stadium after all the concerts neither of you attended); you cheer his name after all the physics exams on which he tries his best.

Really, Jisung could go on forever and ever, gushing about pretty much every aspect of your relationship. He loves you so much. And he used to, back when you first started dating, and he still does during your anniversaries (100 days, 6 months, 1 year, etc.). All his friends complain, especially the bitchless ones (Renjun, Haechan, and Jaemin), but he wants you in his life for as long as you'll have him.

“Were you going to text me?”

Jisung jumps in his seat, automatically locking his phone. He relaxes though, the next second, when he sees you, and scoots over enough for you to sit with him.

But you keep standing.

And he raises an eyebrow.

“What are you –“

You kick your foot up, through the slit of your dress. Jisung thinks you wear these dresses often, which he likes, never mind that Doyoung picked this dress out - a fact he tries to ignore, even though he's pretty sure that he confided this secret to his friends and Renjun probably let it slip after a few drinks.

You catch your ankle, showing off the white bottoms under your heels, below the pretty, silver watch that you will have to take off before the ceremony. Jisung, on instinct, hold you steady first, seeing signs of imbalance in your face. He waits until you lean on him more before looking at your foot.

"Why are - Andy?" he reads, vertically down your foot. It takes him a second to react, chest pounding fast, first, mind going blank, eyes flying to search your smiling face. Then, he returns it - your smile. "Ah, you're so cute."

Jisung pulls you into his lap, like a princess on his knee, and kisses you fast. He might have you repeat this when you actually get married, already filing a mental note to save the TikTok for inspiration. For now, though, he can just pretend - pretend that you did this for your wedding, pretend that you will talk down the aisle for him today (well, you go first, so he will meet you at the first row in front of the alter today), pretend that your white-ish dress is for him, pretend that your current rings carry even more permanent meaning than they already do.

You laugh between the repeated pecks, trying to pull away, but he has you vice gripped close by his chest. “You’re so clingy this weekend, Park Jisung.” And he draws back first, briefly looking at you before burying his face in your neck, arms dropping down your waist. “Someone might think you actually like skinship.” You laugh again and comb his hair.

Jisung squeezes your waist, just once, breathlessly laughing with you. He knows – he knows that he isn’t really known for skinship, having waited days, in the beginning, to hold your hand, not even kissing you until your fourth date; and he knows that he has been obsessed with you these last few days, so he kisses your neck again and confesses, “I just … I just …” He sucks in a breath. “Ah, I just want you,” he finishes lamely. “Can we stay a little bit longer? Here, at the venue, without … everyone else?”

You pinch his cheeks upward, puckering his lips at which you coo. “Did you want to get married today, too?” you giggle. And he almost hides behind your hair, if it weren’t neatly tied up, braided forward to your temples, but also, you hold him as steady as he hugs your waist. He wouldn’t mind, you know, getting married today, after Doyoung; the only people missing, right now, are his siblings (and a few other people); he might want to buy you a new ring really quick though. “Hmm? What’s up, babe?”

“Everyone will be gone,” he says simply, and you relax your fingers curiously onto his shoulders, fumbling the lapels. “From the hotel, they’ll be gone. Most of them are leaving during the dinner, and Mark’s already packed up his boyfriend’s car with their bags. We’ll have an entire suite to ourselves; we won’t have to check out until tomorrow morning.” Jisung swallows and licks his lips, giving himself a beat of reprieve before his tongue goes numb, making it impossible to voice the reason for his request. You stare at him, wide eyed and nodding, urging him to go on, even though it looks like you already know what he wants to ask, even though he feels too scared to ask. “We could, um, we could – oh, God.” He likes to think that, since you’ve been dating for almost three years, he has gotten past most of the nervous, honeymoon stuttering, but he (loves you so much) takes a deep breath and starts again, rushing through, “Wecouldhavesex.”

And you giggle.

He wishes you wouldn’t. It sets a bad precedent for the activity he wants to do; albeit, you didn’t laugh those other first times – when he kissed you, when you sucked him off, when he fingered you. So, really, Jisung has no reason to worry. He just needs to suggest it again, calmly.

“We could use the hotel room, later,” he alludes, monitoring your reaction closely, involuntarily stiffening his fingers through your silky, pale gold dress. You give him more encouraging tiny nods, leaning in with each micro-adjustment, and he copies you, nodding to himself, giving himself the same support. “To have sex,” he whispers, then repeats, louder, “Make love. Do you … want to …?”

You exhale shakily, and he hadn’t realized you were holding your breath. “Yeah,” you sigh. “Yes, definitely.” You grab his face, and he wants to propose again, possibly for real, to see you react like this again, possibly more enthusiastic. “Jisung, I love you,” you say obviously, honestly, “Of course I want to have sex with you,” you whisper the last bit, like him, and he kisses your shoulder, suppressing his gummy smile briefly.

“Give me your ring.”

“Whoa?” You blink. “Just because I said yes? Park Jisung, I never thought of you as a player.” You giggle again and hand over the mismatched ring regardless, probably already knowing the question he has written across his face.

He almost apologizes, for not having a new present, a new ring, something new to give you for another relationship marker, but he changes his mouth to say your name and holds out the jewllery between his thumb and index finger, which are shaped like a heart, nail pushing the center design at you. “Will you,” he pauses, dramatically, muffling a sheepish laugh. “Will you,” he restarts, “make love to me tonight, in the hotel room – our hotel room, after the wedding?”

You roll your eyes and push his shoulder, but he stays still, keeping himself upright to drag an answer out of you. And you answer again, definitively, “Yes, Park Jisung, I will make love to you tonight in our hotel room.”

Except, after the wedding, past the foyer at the reception hall, you almost fuck your boyfriend in a supply closet. He’d only been dancing in the makeshift mosh pit with his friends, jacket fallen down his shoulders, mostly sheer white shirt exposing his toned humerus. They kept cheering him on through the popping and locking and body rolls as he wore a pair of cheesy, blue party glasses that Doyoung placed on all the tables with dessert. Then, the DJ – Doyoung’s friend Johnny from high school – slowed the melody, pulling all the couples onto the dance floor.

All the couples except you because you stole Jisung’s hand and dragged him out one of the smaller doors behind the furthest unoccupied tables. He tripped over a few chairs on the way, praying that no one heard him, trying to catch up the half-step you have on him, wondering what dastard plans you have on your mind.

“What are you –“

“It’s such a crime,” you tell him, shoving him against a poorly lit shelf, inhaling his lips, running your fingers along his torso, finding the best place to hold him. The door slams loudly, which is oddly comforting, to give you both some privacy. And he drops his hands from surrender onto your shoulders, relaxing you enough to continue talking through the kisses. “You look so good, too good, Park Jisung, and you dance so well. God,” you moan into his mouth, ridiculously close that he can feel your boobs squish on his chest. “I know, we’re waiting for tonight and tomorrow, and – and –“ You pull back swallowing, realigning your breath. Jisung licks his lips. He’s been the one to kiss you all weekend, to initiate it all weekend, so he gets hard, instantly, when you return the same energy, finding him as hot as he finds you. “We’re waiting,” you reiterate, and he presses his forehead against yours, “but – but can you do that dance move again – that body roll again,” you glance at him through your lashes, “on me?”

“Here?”

You nod, biting your lip. “If you don’t – we don’t have to; we can go back. I just – Jisung, ah, fuck.”

You rarely swear, never finding a reason unless you’re frustrated or really turned on, and Jisung always wants to hear it, claiming that you sound really sexy when you say things you’re not supposed to, especially, like in this case, when you are doing things you’re not supposed to. So rather than responding, he complies, pulling his face down, legs pliéd to accommodate your height, then rolls once, thigh grazing through the slit in your dress, dragging it up and behind your waist.

Jisung groans, deeply, pausing to settle his nerves. He repeats, even closer, grinding across your chest, twisting your dress around the buttons of his shirt. And you fall into him, a hand braced on the shelf behind his elbow. Jisung bites his lip. Something juxtaposes deeply in this moment, but he cannot place his finger quite on it. He feels like a middle schooler again, waiting to kiss the prettiest person at the party; he also feels like a teenager with raging hormones, back to 19 right before his military service, jacking off in his room with lotion and a box of tissues; but he also feels like an adult (or the most adult a person in their 20s can feel) in an adult relationship doing adult things. So he does it again – the body roll, breathing into your mouth, chasing your lips down for another kiss.

“I don’t want to make love to you in here,” he whispers, despite rolling his fully hard dick in the crevice between your thigh and vulva. Jisung fists your dress at your waist, bunching it higher. Your panties expose, thin and transparent. His resolve nearly falters, almost completely fucking you in this supply closet with his family and closest friends a few meters away. He kisses you again and again, burying his words with his tongue down your throat, exhaling shakily. Then, he shakes his head, slowly pulling away, holding your face in place, hand around the front of your neck. Jisung opens his eyes and finds you already looking at him, your fingers wrapping around his wrist one by one. “I want you –“ He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, that fell out of a tight braid. “– so bad, you have no idea.” He grinds his dick up your leg as proof. “But not here, not like this.”

“I know. I don’t want it like this either,” you tell him, smoothening the wrinkles in his shirt, staring down his chest. “I just … You looked so hot out there, and, God, Ji, I want you so, so bad, too.”

Jisung brings his hands down, fumbling this thumbs back and forth across your hips, your dress bunched up as you practically sit on his lap while he barely sits on a half-empty shelf. You snake your hands behind his neck, fidgeting with the tag in his coat. He tries to fight the smirk that appears in the corner of his mouth, sweeping his long hair in front of his eyes, but you catch him and bury your face in his neck this time.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you whine, voice going up an octave at the last syllable. You tease him more than he teases you, verbally at least (he likes to think that he does more than you in bed), so he’s not entirely accustomed to his whiny girlfriend, and he kinda likes it.

“Never,” he tells you, sarcastically, chuckling a hair away from your lips before he kisses you again. “I like that you think I’m sexy.” He smirks, inhaling a deep embrace, literally taking your breath away with a slow and gentle kiss. You moan into his mouth, mumbling his name between colorful expletives. It lets him slip his tongue inside, confidently, crushing his lips harder and harder, needing you to come equally closer, to ease the pressure on his dick. He knows – he knows what he just said, but, “We don’t have to … have sex in here,” he tells you, whispering like it’s a bad word. “There are other things we can do.” He groans, throatily, chest rising faster.

You’ve done worse, honestly, in worse places than dry humping in a supply closet at a family friend’s wedding. He can think of several blow jobs in the library’s reference section (which has no cameras, by the way); or that time he held a vibrator on you the entire Starbucks drive-thru, resulting in him plastering his failed differential midterm over the windows as a cover up while he ate you out in the back seat. Actually, just last Tuesday too, at the gym, after he locked the door to a communal weight lifting room, you bounced on his long, agile fingers. Granted, it was 4 AM, so the place was already empty, save for a couple employees, thus easing his anxiety. And you could do it again, right now. You don’t have to take his dick inside your cunt, but you could give each other sloppy hand jobs, using spit as lube (or not; he's probably leaking so much pre-cum). The thought makes his knees buckle, making the both of you stumble.

“Sor –”

You cut him off with another kiss, your fingers flying to his pants, undoing his fly quickly. He grunts, involuntarily thrusting up. His dick was already pointing tip-up, the entire length, even flaccid, unable to sit snugly otherwise in his pants. You curl your nails in his waistband, scratching under his boxers. He nods his head, mouth parted, gasping, giving you all the green lights to touch him more, which you do, sliding one hand down his pants and the other onto his cheek, allowing you to deepen the kiss. Jisung grunts, again, plump lips biting your tongue, and he copies you, one hand behind your neck, under your head, anchoring himself to this moment (also, before he completely evaporates).

“Shh,” you whisper, mouthing across his jaw. “We have to be quiet.” But you make it hard for him (pun intended), holding your thumb on his throbbing slit, breaking his pre-cum into uneven globs down the sides. “Everyone keeps interrupting us, baby," you pout.

You take your hand off his dick and bring it to your mouths. He watches you, intently, lick your palm, pink tongue peeping just above the web in your hand, and he falls – not literally. Jisung bends in half, lowering himself to your boobs, silently thanking your heels, which have his name branded on the bottom. He kisses the highest part on your dress, halfway down your chest, then slides the straps down your pretty arms. You repeat his name, verbally – his proper name, after he takes a nipple in his mouth, tongue flat against it, massaging the entire areola. He sucks lightly, hollowing his cheeks, bobbing up and down, opposite hand enveloping under your unattended tit, but he’s too big, as is everything about it, and his palm rests on your ribs. His thumb and index finger pinch repeatedly, automatically, increasing hardness each time a digit swipes over your nipple. You have to bite your hand to stop from moaning too loud.

“Jwiseong,” you stammer, accented by the muffle.

You edge a little closer to him, pushing the shelf into his lower back, and he yelps. But it comes out as groan, vibrations making you match him. Jisung stands up fully again, taking a wide step on the outside of your thighs. He grabs you by the face, kissing you in the way he has been all weekend, a hand behind your neck and another supporting you by the ass, this time dipping you toward the ground. His cock flops completely out the fly of his pants, balls still trapped behind the slit in his boxers. The heavy air hits the veins in his dick first before it rubs against your inner thighs, and you squeeze them around him, both of you groaning, your skimpy underwear adding friction for both of you. Jisung moans your name, accidentally biting your bottom lip. But you say nothing, instead wrapping your arms around his neck, doing your best to slide his cock between your thighs. And he grunts. He can feel his cock pulsing to release.

“Jisung,” you mumble more coherently, “Jisung, Jisung,” you half-chant between kisses, but every time you open your mouth, he slips his tongue in farther, twisting inside your mouth, licking behind your teeth, goading your tongue inside his mouth to suck on. Your panties twist at the crotch, like a substitute thong, and his long cock, ridges and all, rubs your clit to ass and back again. “Jisung,” you moan again. “Jisung, you can’t cum – you can’t – oh, my God, Jisung,” you whisper-shout, forcing him to kiss you harder. He can’t cum on your clothes.

“I know,” he mumbles, giving your tongue one last suck before he pulls back, sitting on the same half-empty shelf, you back on his lap/ish. He lightly fingers away the hairs curtaining the front of your face, tucking the thicker ones behind your ear. “I know,” he repeats. You’ve given him thigh jobs before, humping between his legs, which landed cum on your ass, and letting him hit doggy style, which landed cum on your stomach. So, here, in the random supply closet, it – his cum – would ruin both of your outfits, something you wouldn’t be able to explain on your goodbye rounds. And he cums so much (it was embarrassing the first time, then he found out how much you liked it). Jisung glances at his cock, shortly, jumping between it and your face. He steadies his breathing and takes off his jacket; he undoes more buttons down his pecs and rolls up his sleeves. “It’s so … hot in here,” he justifies.

You nod, pulling at your dress. And he sees it – the wrinkles in the skirt, the slit pushed toward your strapless bra, your panties even tinier.

“You can cum in my mouth,” you whisper thickly, “so – so you don’t stain your tux.”

“We could just go back to our hotel,” he offers instead, really feeling the need to cum elsewhere.

“You’re fine walking out with this –“ You slide your hand down his penis, fingers not entirely touching despite getting tighter at the base. “– poking everyone in the eye?”

“N-no, yeah, you’re right. Please let me cu-cum down your throat.”

You rearrange your dress comfortably folded beneath your knees, hit jacket adding extra padding. Jisung sucks in a breath, then even more when you swallow the entirely of his dick, or whatever you can, stuttering halfway down. It seems he got bigger, all his cum girthing at the tip, waiting to flood. You skip the foreplay, the teasing, immediately hollowing your cheeks around the bit you can get in your mouth without destroying your esophagus (again, you still have to say your goodbyes), but he still grips the shelf behind him, knuckles turning white. Jisung bites his lip, forcing himself to keep his eyes open, to watch his sexy, sexy girlfriend blow him, so that he cums fast. In almost any other scenario, it would be embarrassing how fast he cums, especially with how much volume he expels, but you make it so difficult not to overflow the crevices of your mouth. You press your tongue under his cock, sucking in your lip over your top row of teeth, feeding his cock down your throat, and massaging the half you can’t take. He feels a vein scrape the corner of your mouth and twitches forward, pushing more dick inside. Your eyes water a little bit, lashes blinking them away, so he takes over, slowly thrusting his cock to gauge how much teeth with graze it on the drawback. Once he finds the perfect length, he sets a faster pace, squeezing cute little dimples in his ass until he grunts erratically, incredibly close to cumming.

“Almost there,” he whimpers. He knows that he sounds frustrated, but it’s not at you, never at you. He just wants to make love to you in your hotel room right now. “So close,” he pleads, again not at you, more at himself.

You pull off his cock and open your mouth wide, as circular as possible, and he grabs his dick back, rubbing your spit and cum and his pre-cum up his length, pointing the tip inside your mouth. The first rope shoots down your throat perfectly, then the next rope lands on your tongue. It keeps sputtering out this way, like a spray bottle, until it doesn’t, and his cum clings to his cock, dribbling down his veins, prompting you to lick him clean.

And you make eye contact the entire time, which makes his cock twitch. After you finally finish cleaning him off, you stand up and show him all the collected cum in your mouth, holding your tongue still like a cup. Jisung grabs your neck, holding your pliant head as you swallow what you can, in two breathy gulps. He wipes a little excess bubble from the corner of your mouth to inside, then presses a kiss on your neck, squeezing your collarbone, tighter with his thumb.

“Mmm,” he grunts. “My turn.”

Jisung sinks to his knees, pushing your hips against the shelf. He slides your skirt to the side, making a bigger slit for him to get under, and raises your leg over his shoulder. Slowly, your fingers tread into his hair, pulling at the top. He falls forward, closer to your wet pussy, lips ghosting a breath on labia. Jisung tilts his head to the side and wraps his tongue around the crotch of your panties, a teasing excuse to pull them out, to give him better access, his wide tongue swiping your skin briefly.

“Jisung,” you whine, shaking your butt on the shelf. “Hurry.”

He laughs. “Shh, no one can know we’re in here.”

Jisung pushes his middle finger inside your cunt, gradually making the interphalangeal creases disappear, moaning when you do. Outside, he kisses your vulva, jaw coming up, raising his tongue to your clit. He flicks it with his entire tongue, desperately sucking the little knob between his lips. You tug his hair again, and he swears that his dick twitches – not a good sign, so he works faster, adding a second finger. He sucks again and again, releasing your labia with suctioned gasps, working his nimble digits knuckle-deep repeatedly. In, out, in, out, halfway in, out, all the way in, out, in again.

His knuckles hit your pussy harder and harder, confining him to the small space as your leg wraps around both of his shoulders rigidly, his hot breath sighing back in his face. Jisung hums again on your clit before sucking harsher, lips biting every time his mouth turns into the flat part of his tongue to the tip to nothing, then back again. When he feels your feathery walls squeeze his fingers, he adds a third, despite the taut stretch. He presses all three to the roof of your vagina and curls, flexes each one in different directions, tickling that spongy little spot if two happen to land on it simultaneously. Your legs stiffen and shake side-to-side, but he keeps going, goes faster, not slowing down.

Until you relax.

Your legs go numb, and you almost fall off the supply shelf, so he holds you up, still licking your vulva clean as you cum and cum and cum across his lips.

It takes you pulling his hair again to stop him. And Jisung stands up, breathing just as heavily. He hugs you closely, around your waist, and you bring your hands to his arm. Both of you stabilize your breaths to each other.

You move first, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “We should go say bye to everyone.”

Jisung nods, blindly, not fully coherent enough to process the suggestion. He is trying to lengthen his refractory period, make his partially hard cock go back down. You’re so sexy, too sexy right now, and he desperately needs a bed to make love to you.

“So we can get back to the hotel,” you clarify, voice light.

And suddenly, Jisung is halfway through tugging on his jacket and ordering an Uber.

It takes every nerve, every ounce of self-control for Jisung to make it through goodbye rounds.

The first thing you did, before the rounds, other than sanitize your hands or fix your outfits, was drink water and pop a breath mint from the dessert table, then he kissed you quick, mumbling some random excuse about a mouth check, which turned into a five minute make out session halfway out the door that Jaemin commented on, on his way out. Even one of the groom’s cousins mentioned how he – Jisung – is always touching you, always has a hand attached to you, despite not even really liking to share food.

Chenle, he thinks, was the sole person to explicitly say something, catching onto Jisung’s mismatched buttons and your new ponytail, frizzy curls hanging loose. Jisung prayed his hands together, begging his best friend not to say anything. So he didn’t. But Jisung knew that he would hear all about it on Monday, from everyone in his friend group.

Jisung could only get through two or three more conversations, suddenly feeling like a kid trying to leave the Chuseok dinner, before his cock (which never fully went down, by the way) started straining his pants again, the idea of getting you in his bed as the single motivator to leave as soon as possible. He ended up pushing you, by the waist, in front of his crotch to protect his decency, no longer carrying his jacket because you wear it, because Chenle pointed out some discoloration, another bump low on your neck. You spoke for him, lying to all the aunties that he drank too much or danced too hard. They believed you, especially after he giggled into your shoulder, snapping his body in half to lean on you. It hurt his ego that they believed you so easily, but he’ll deal with all those feelings later. Everything else drowns into white noise, going in on ear and out the other, almost forcibly removed by the horny hormones his hypothalamus orders.

Also, he really wanted to avoid clean up duty. His hands need to be clean for post-nuptial activities, you know.

You have to know by the time he gets you in the elevator to your hotel room, your shared hotel room. He backs you into a corner under the camera, at the blind spot. You look up at him, wide-eyed, gasping when he rubs his thigh between your legs. He grunts, deeply, softly, and kisses you quiet. And he thinks, there have been way too many situations this whole weekend where you were required to be silent. But still, you moan and raise your arms around his neck (and he hopes that the security cameras are old and have no sound). Then, in his next move, your elbow accidentally hits an extra button.

“Are you sure about this?” Jisung breathes as the doors open to the third floor. Your room is on the seventh.

“Yes, of course.” You frown, brushing your hair through the middle, resting your arm on his broad shoulder. “Why?”

He scrunches his nose. “Just making sure you’re not looking for a way out or anything.” He tilts his head to the going up sign, and you hit his arm.

“I told you not to make fun of me,” you pout.

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughs, then kisses you again.

And he doesn’t stop kissing you all the way to your room. Just changes the location. You stumble out of the elevator, tripping on your dress as you pull away from him, and he catches your hand, giving your knuckles a princely tap. He pushes you on another wall, hissing – because he dick points toward the ceiling and, every time he presses up against you, it bends to meet you, practically drawn to your pussy – hissing something about wanting you so bad, right now, just another reiteration. He doesn’t know what else to say. Most of the time, you just moan into each other’s mouths, just mash your lips together, trying to keep quiet, so his dirty talk skills are … lacking. He just hopes that he makes up for it with body language.

Jisung kisses and hisses all the way back to your room, both of you knocking into the furniture. “Sorry, I just need you right now,” he keeps saying, excusing the way he practically rams you against the closed door to your bedroom. He protected you from sharp corners and your head from the impact, but he just hurts his hand. Jisung inhales. His hands cup your face like flower petals, bringing you taller, even more on your tippy toes. You steady him by his shoulders, relaxing your jaw, accepting his tongue, and he kisses you chastely, thumbs rubbing into the apples of your cheeks.

And he’s the first one to pull away. Well, you can’t exactly open the door without making the both of you collapse, neither of you balanced correctly on your feet. You’d crash to the floor in an instant.

“I love you.”

Your lips twitch at the corners, curving up your smile wider than it already is. “I love you, too.”

Jisung remembers when he had a crush on you like three years ago. He doesn’t remember when his feelings started, but based on the way everyone teases him, you included sometimes (if you’re not kissing him appreciatively), he’s always had them, from the moment he laid eyes on you reading at the café . And this feels a lot like that – the-the fluttering in his empty stomach, the tingling and hyper-awareness of his limbs, the rush to say anything, just to see what makes you laugh or what makes you stay. He even doodles little hearts in your cheeks with his thumbpads.

“I –“ he swallows. “I –“

“Jisung?” you interrupt, breath shaking out your nose, “Can we have sex now?”

“God, yes.”

Jisung kisses you again, having regained some balance in the beat. He thrashes a hand behind you, fumbling for the door knob, and when he gets it open, he dips you back again, walking you inside the room, supporting you mostly by the ass, hanging you around his neck like jewellery; he should really buy you a new couple ring later. Honestly, he’s mostly surprised by his – and your – breath control and not his core strength (that is what the gym is for!), never getting winded between all the kisses or tongues or teeth. And you – God, you – keep leaning backward, hauling all his 180 centimeters toward the bed, making him more and more impressed by your commitment to zero space for Jesus. You suck his bottom lip inside your mouth, sealing your top lip inside his, and he whimpers, knees buckling again, so he lifts you up and pushes you on the bed, kicking away the stupid bench that slows him down.

“I’m gonna eat you out,” Jisung decides, towering over you.

“Ugh, no,” you whine, squirming the bed into another mess of sheets.

“No?”

“Jisung, I need you to please, please fuck me now, cock inside. We did all the foreplay already, and – and I’m ready, I promise. I want you so bad. You’re so sexy. I –“

He returns his lips to yours, this time softer, sweeter, slower, cutting you off, this time, before you ramble yourself into oblivion (before he has the chance to take you there himself). And you relax again, shoulders slumping into the mattress as he crawls over you, showering you with attention from lips to feet. Jisung builds up his momentum again while you gradually undress, starting with his blazer, pulling one arm out, then the other, redirecting your hands down to his waistband again, starting with the zipper. You creep your nails over the tip of his cock, and he thrusts upward, pushing your hand into a claw around the girth, fucking your hand a few times. His length is too big, you both know, so it bounces over your stomach, almost like a premonition for how deep he’ll go. Jisung tries to get more comfortable, but he slips on your silky dress, the skirt flailing out to the side. The way he falls moves you on your obliques, and he brushes your hair behind your ear, away from your neck. You throw your leg over his, tangling your limbs lackadaisically.

“I – my – it’s too big.”

“A huh,” you nod all the way through your chest, toppling him, straddling one of his thighs. “I know. It’s hot.” You don’t grind him (much to his disappointment), because he is still wearing his tux and your panties are just way too thin and wet at this point (he hopes), but if you ask, and maybe even if you didn’t, he would make this the designated sex suit and fuck you in it whenever he wears it, regardless of the function (actually, there’s a charity gala coming up, when he has to wear this ensemble again). But he wants the intimacy of closeness, of vulnerability, of nakedness this first time.

“No, I just,” Jisung whines, “I need to prep you before you can take it – t-take me.”

You inhale sharply, and he feels it. He trails his eyes up, wide, to meet you, staring at your face, noses touching. Jisung waits for your answer; he knows that you want this too, so he gives you both a moment to collect yourselves, mentally preparing himself, too, for the next step. And a beat passes. Then, he unzips your dress at the back; it’s not long, the zipper, so he doesn’t have to wait even more, but the drag slows time and you squeeze his biceps, encouraging him to go faster. He slides the entire material off you, stripping you down to just your panties. When he goes to do the same for himself, standing at edge of the bed, you kneel, still shorter than him, on the blankets, and do it for him. You start with the tie, slowly loosening it side-to-side. It pulls him forward, and he braces himself on your hips, fingers twisting in the waistband of your panties. You get shirt and under-shirt off quickly, but stop at his pants, the top button already undone and fly down.

“Is – is something wrong?”

“I really want to suck you off again,” you confess, jumping from his dick to his eyes.

Jisung pecks your lips. “You can do it later. We have all night.”

“Yeah, okay, yeah,” you nod, kissing him languidly, leaving him to take off his pants.

“Turn around,” he mumbles on your lips. And this time, you comply, standing on your hands and knees, all fours. Jisung copies you, kneeling eye level with your pretty, glistening lips. He grabs your ass first, in both hands, pulling your vulva apart, panty crotch to the side, two fingers each, middle digits dipping inside, just an interphalangeal crease deep. “Don’t cum yet.”

“Jisung, ple –“ You squeal, falling on your forearms, when he cautiously licks outside, around his fingers, up your slit, and you shudder an exhale. “What h-happened to prep-ping me?” you stutter and whine. “You’ll feel so good inside me, Jisung – ah.”

Jisung drags his thumb down the line of your makeshift thong, rubbing round your asshole tentatively before slipping two long and flexible fingers knuckle deep inside your cunt. His other hand pushes your cheek into the pillow, giving you a head rest, making you ass pop up. And slowly, he draws his fingers out, then pushes them back in three-quarters of the way. He does it again, pulling out, extracting your moan, and pushing in, all the way this time. Jisung sets that steady pace, slow and controlled, and he kisses your ass, leaving a bite mark. It makes you yelp, and you squeeze your pussy, accidentally pulling off. You grind back down, meeting his rough knuckles. And soon, he’s finger fucking you harder, with three fingers, and you’re bouncing on his hand, your panties hooked on his thumb.

“Ah, Jisung, fuck, Park Jisung, that feels so good.”

Blindly, he finds his cock and holds it by the base, squeezing his hand like a cock ring to keep from cumming without you.

“I think,” he pants, “I think I need to fuck you now.”

You nod, enthusiastically, turning on your back. “How do you –”

“Missionary,” Jisung answers too fast, already dragging you into position. “I want to see your pretty face.” He hovers his cock above your pussy, between your plushy thighs, hand around the top. The thrusts once, heavy tip dipping to your stomach, that bulging premonition hitting him all over again. His knuckles rasp, kneading your folds, rolling your clit in the wetness, and your knees fall in, so he has to spread them again. “What if it’s too big?” he wonders out loud, shifting his cock to your entrance.

“I can take it,” you promise, bobbing your head. “I can take it, plea –“

He cuts you off with a firm kiss, smashing his lips ungracefully on yours, and slips the first quarter inside you. The kiss is less to muffle you, since neither of you have to be so quiet right now, more to share this intimacy with you. He adds another inch, shallowly thrusting to get his dick wet.

“Ah, you’re so tight,” he hisses. “I could fuck you like this.”

He thought he prepped you enough, but halfway deep, his cock already hits an impasse, so he tries something that he saw in a porno. Jisung moves your right leg over your leg, giving him access to your ass, jiggling your boobs. The motion pulls his cock out a little, and he pushes it back in, pushes more in, making you both groan.

“Full, so full, Jisung.”

“Oh, God, I’m going to cum if you keep talking.”

You grind your hips down. “You should.”

“I’m not wearing a condom,” he reminds you, gritting his teeth. You pull your ass, showing off the way you take him so well, and he rips your panties, exerting his lack of self-control elsewhere. He throws the tiny material at the wall and falls on your lips, repeating, “I’m not wearing a condom, and I – I cum so much.”

“I know. It's hot, you're so -” you moan, fucking yourself on his dick, slapping his thighs, taking him completely. “F-fill me up, Jisung. I want all of you.”

“I want – I want you, too,” he stutters, brain struggling to multitask between answering you and fucking you.

So, he pushes his palms into the mattress, squelching the rest of his dick inside your pussy, basking in your moans. You boobs bounce circularly every time he bottoms out, and he doesn’t know where to look – your cunt sucks him in, contracting around him without reprieve; your nipples taunt him, showing him something to bite and lick and suck; your lips part perfectly for him to shove his tongue down your throat, expelling a series of staccato moans mixed in with his name. Jisung settles for your collarbone, burying himself in the scent of his cologne marking your skin from earlier. His lips bite the bone, groans getting louder and louder.

“God.” He clutches your knees, dragging you so close. “Is this – is this okay?” he asks, despite not letting up, going faster actually, driving you higher up the bed, making him climb even more on you, chasing you.

“Yes, yes, please don’t stop,” you cry. “I’m gonna cum, Jisung, I’m gonna cum.” And you choke on your words, babbling incoherently, talkin’ nonsense.

“Come on, baby, you can cum,” Jisung encourages you. He stands up straight, thrusting in, and in, and in, bottoming out. He holds his cock fully sheathed, deep, circling his hips over your labia, naked thigh sliding up and down your clit. You claw his arm, dropping into his hand, and he intertwines your fingers. You squeeze his hand, and your pussy clenches on his cock. Everything starts choking him, and he loses his breath, inhaling and inhaling, mouthing at your neck.

Then, you cum, back deflating into the bed, lulling pliantly in his hands, toes releasing the tension.

Jisung picks up his pace, brutalizing your cunt, and you whine and squirm, moaning. He feels the veins in his cock catch more prominently in your pussy, like you don’t want to let him go, so he just keeps pushing and pushing and pushing, your canal practically wringing him dry, and he cums too. Thick ropes control the way his cock jumps inside your uterus, bouncing on your spongey, little G-spot before more spills out, forcing him to remove himself. He planks above you, head hanging low, sweat matting down his hair.

You raise both your hands, brushing it back to see him better, and you prop yourself on your elbows, raising yourself high enough to kiss him, slowly but deeply.

Jisung sighs dreamily, flopping down next to you on his oblique. He tilts your chin up at him.

“You,” he starts, pecking you quickly, “are so perfect.”

“Then,” you giggle, taking his left hand. You run your thumb and index finger down his ring finger. “Will you marry me, Park Jisung?"

#park jisung x reader #jisung x reader #jisung smut #park jisung smut #jisung fluff #park jisung fluff #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenarios

253 notes · View notes

mr-weirdo-mcgee · 1 month ago

Text

If I get less camera shy I would absolutely make a video on dharman and his logic so here's this.

1. First in one of his videos he made a point like "It's ok to not have friends!!" And like yes but also acting like it doesn't have an impact on people is weird cause I'm fine by myself but it still sucks that I feel so different that I can barely make friends, that's not EXACTLY ok but that doesn't mean someone should be made fun of

2. Saying mental stuff is "a superpower" like let's talk about the struggles please. Obviously there's one about autism but I'll talk about the shy one. So he said that being shy was "a superpower" but idk.. staying in the house because you're scared of interacting with people isn't exactly a superpower, and being Camara shy isn't a superpower. "He didn't say social anxiety or something, he said shy!" Yeah but you could probably ask people with anxiety how many times it was just called being "shy"

3. "Just come out to your parents!! Don't be afraid to be yourself!!" NO?? WHAT?? Ok dramatic reaction from me and technically.. maybe! But.. just so you guys know, dhar is probably not gay, definitely not publicly so just an ally as we know and yeah... Not great advice, of course good advice for people who's parents are Ally's but ALSO it's revealed that his parents are homophobic, well at the end they aren't but yeah??

So first off, context. The gay main character is a gay Indian man and the video is called "guy forced to marry girl" of course arranged marriages. And his boyfriend (AN ANNOYING ASS BOYFRIEND!) is white AND a man! Pretty bad right? Because his parents are traditional, only wanting an Indian woman for their son to date, but his boyfriend is SO annoying and not understanding??

"why don't you tell them 😢" because he knows his parents?? Why do all the boyfriends of the main characters not understand homophobia?? But it is revealed that his parents don't want their son to be gay or have a white partner. Not to the point of being violent..expect at the end the dad yells like LOUD so ehh.. but they'd kick their son out if he "was gay" (of course he is)

But even after the main character tells his boyfriend that his parents aren't understanding... He still throws a fit??? "You either tell them or we're done!" WHAT???

And the ending was basically the girl he was gonna marry told off her mom, saying she was marrying a white guy and ran out, the main character decided to tell off his parents to and to cut content with them-- almost until the sister of the girls mom stood up, she was homophobic to her son but everyone (including the girls mom) thought SHE was in the right but the Aunt explained she missed her son and regrets everything she did after she cut content with him. And the main characters parents were like "oh you're right, we won't be homophobic" usually dharman stuff

I'll admit, the ending still makes me cry BUT I can't ignore how bad of advice that is?? You're just guilting gay people with homophobic parents to come out, even if they get kicked out?? And if they don't, they're "not being their true selfies"??? Fuck that! And it's completely ignoring the VIOLENT homophobic parents who would hurt their kid if they came out?? That advice is terrible! You SHOULDN'T come out if you're gonna get hurt?? And you shouldn't be guilted for it??! That's ridiculous!

Anyway I could rant about dharman all day so I'll just make my new tag "dharman criticism -_-"

#dharman criticism -_-#rant #rant post #my usually tags →#lgbtq community #lgbtqia #mogai #lesboy #otherkin #xenogender

7 notes · View notes

explaininghellaverse · 6 months ago

Text

Angel Dust time!

Spider man, but ya know not that Spider-man.

So there have been several controversies with Angel and I’ll talk about the ones I’ve seen. Most of them boil down to being pretty nonsensical if you think for 10 seconds in all honesty.

And a general warning that this will get into triggering topics because Angel’s character revolves around some heavy stuff.

Trans Angel Dust Controversy

So first things first Angel is not trans as far anything been stated. If you want headcannon him as such go for it! And second if he was trans I don’t really see a problem with it. People’s biggest issue that I’ve seen is because of his chest fluff making him look busty, and it’s really a non-issue. No matter if you where the ‘Angel is a trans man’ or ‘Angel is a trans woman’ side of this argument.

Trans people are allowed to not look visibly cis, to say Angel is transphobic while thinking he’s trans because he’s got a ‘bust’ is more transphobic than anything else. People don’t need to pass or they can just be happy with that feature. Looking Cis shouldn’t be everyone’s goals.

He’s Feminine so he’a a gay stereotype.

Yes/no, if anything I see him as more androgynous personally. the most feminine thing about him is that he wears pink, but also being a feminine man isn’t a bad thing. It’s not bad to shine light on the more feminine men in our community, femme men exist.

I also think him being pink and more femme leaning has directly to do with his story don’t forget he died in the 1940s an era not to long ago where simply being gay could instantly be a death sentence. On top of that he’s the child of the Mafia who are also notoriously homophobic.

I think him being more femme in hell, and physically being pink is for to reasons. It’s A something he was probably deeply insecure about when he was alive and B in hell most people don’t care about that so he’s now gotten a chance to embrace his queerness.

I think that will end up tying into why the deal with Valentino even happened in the first place, the tough guy mafia kid embrace his sexuality he’s always had to suppress and thinks he can handle anything since he was mafia when alive. But I think he was fresh in in hell when it happened he didn’t understand yet how binding demon deals are.

The Poison controversy

So this one is complicated and people’s very varied response to it speaks volume. There is a bit where it’s just people not understanding how this sort of thing develops and other are just victims reactions to the same thing can be very different.

So I’m speaking on this in a weird tone I am not a direct victim of SA however my dad is a rapist and mother was his victim so I have trauma relating to SA and have seen an SA victim at her worst and getting better. Just to explain that I am not just pulling stuff out of my ass here. I have different but complex related trauma.

So do I think poison is bad SA rep, no I don’t. Do I think the song can be triggering absolutely, but the episode does come with a warning which is all someone should have to ask for when dealing with these topics.

The scenes actually showing SA in the song are very brief and they all cutoff before you can really see much happening and then switch to Angel dancing in his stage. The song itself despite the pop sound is very depressing if you really listen to it. Kind of in a way similar to “pumped up kicks” which if you don’t know is a popular very cheery sounding song about school shootings.

How I see the song the song and I think is the intended way for the song to be interrupted is that Angel is both spiraling and dissociating. Remember that night Valentino was being extra hard on Angel more than usual and I think that broke him. Dissociating is something the brain does to try and protect itself. Where your brain basically goes hey you’re in a bad situation let’s completely ignore that at any cost. I also think it’s directly referencing Angels mask because he does pretend to enjoy it all as for himself to not get hurt more than he already is. Which is a very realistic depiction.

There is also another disturbing way to interpret it, that I think is horrific and that is up until the end of the song where we see Angel really break down, what if the song isn’t just a song for the audience but one actually physically being performed as a in universe music video. What if Valentino as punishment to Angel is making him sing this song about how much this is hurting Angel to sell to his hungry fans. I wouldn’t put it past Valentino.

That also another thing at the end of the song Angel is going into a panic attack and you can hear his voice breaking and the music becoming more somber. The dissociation is broken the mask is falling and Angel is breaking down. Angel is honestly one of the best depictions of an SA victim I’ve ever seen. And yes some scenes with him made me uncomfortable, but that’s the point, that’s the horror of his situation that he can’t escape. And that’s also why he’s become such a comfort to so many people.

Which leads me to the next part.

Angel Dust’s flirty comment problem

A lot of people think Angel is bad rep because of his constant flirty comments, sex jokes, and literally throwing himself at people like Husk, but again this is a realistic depiction of how some people react to being SA’d especially in a long term situation.

Angel is Hypersexual his brain has been rewired where to protect itself it now has normalized that behavior. Does that mean it’s alright when he pushes peoples buttons in that way, absolutely not but it does make sense.

And it’s shown in show how uncomfortable it makes Husk, but Husk also recognizes that it is a mask something Angel is to afraid to admit. It also makes sense how Angel throws himself at people it’s a mix of trying to take back his power his sexuality and that ‘If he consents no matter what he can’t be hurt again’ mindset. He is a very realistic depiction of an SA victim.

Why do people think Angel is bad rep?

So for one everyone’s situation in what trauma does to the brain is different, someepeople become hypersexual, some people shut down, some people become violent to scare people off, some people become so scared that can’t leave there house. Trauma varies and I think part of why some victims see him as being bad rep is simply because that’s not how their trauma manifested, but I think he’s important we rarely see a victim shown like this and so many people who responded to their trauma in a similar way to him now have a character that they take comfort in.

There is also this thing in media that’s called ‘the perfect victim’ where in a lot of writing victims are written in a very specific very structured way that anything outside of that is considered a bad victim. This directly parallels real life where if you aren’t in tears every second, if you wore something that could be seen as provocative people will say you aren’t a real victim. And I’ve seen people say that exact thing with Angel, I’ve seen people say he’s not a victim because he signed the contract. It’s a mirror on how victims are treated.

There is also something to be said about Angel being a male victim. Male victims are rarely represented and rarely taken seriously. I think that’s also reflecting in how people are viewing Angel. I do think if Angel’s character was a woman he would be treated differently by people that are both fans and haters of the show.

What do I want to see from Angel in the future

This section is just stuff I really want to see from Angel in the future.

-I want more screen time of Angel and his pet pig, we barely see his pet until the end of the series and I think that’s a little weird.

-Now that Angels mask is falling a bit with Husk I want to see Angel open up more in a calmer less sexualized way

-I want to see Angels trauma get in the way of his relationship with Husk. I think a great way they could take this with Angel being scared of hurting Husk the same way he has been hurt. That’s personally something I struggle with and I think that would be amazing to see. Trauma does weird stuff to peoples brain.

-I want to a flashback where we get to see a human Angel and how he interacts with his mob family due to his sexuality being rejected.

In conclusion, does Angel’s representation make you feel uncomfortable does it make you feel gross? Good. That’s the point.

#helluvaverse #hazbin hotel #angel dust #hazbin hotel angel dust

11 notes · View notes

rippeanuts1950-2000 · 2 years ago

Text

The choir as things my friends and I have said or done

Ocean is dealing with a bunch of popular kids that she surprisingly did nothing to a good twenty feet from the choir’s lunch table

Noel- If Ocean gets her ass kicked, I’m not helping her

Constance- Noel, she’s not gonna get her ass kicked

Noel, shrugging- You don’t know that Con, she could

Penny, appearing out of nowhere holding her pencil case and a book- Well if she does, I’ll help her. My pencil pack can cause wall damage

Noel- How do you know that

Penny- I threw it at the wall once, it broke the wall

Constance, visibly concerned- Why did tut throw it at the wall

Penny- Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to

—-

Ocean is looking at Constance’s phone with a concern look on her face. Constance is talking to Penny and is none the wiser to what Ocean was doing

Ocean- Constance, what’s with your wallpaper

Constance- What do you mean

Ocean holds up Constance’s phone, revealing her wallpaper to be drawings of different sized boobs

Constance- Why do you have my phone

Ocean- I needed to use your camera, answer my question now

Constance- Ocean, you may not know this already, but I’m attracted to woman

Ocean- You came out last year. I just want to know why you have this of all things as your wallpaper

Constance- Because why not

Penny- She’s got you there

Ocean- Why do I hang out with you guys

—-

Noel is talking about his uncle and coming out to him.

Noel- So the thing about my uncle is that he can be a bit bigoted and that’s why I wasn’t out to him. Anyway my cousin made a joke saying “Noel, you can marry whoever you want but they have to be Canadian.” My uncle took this as a way of me coming out to him and I heard him tell my aunt, “Noel’s gay? Good for him!”

Ricky, signing- He may be bigoted but at least he’s not homophobic

—-

Mischa- What are they even doing

Ricky, signing- This is when they insult each other until one of them tackles the other and Penny has to intervene

Mischa- So we just watch them

Ricky, signing- Yep

Ocean, screaming at Noel- You have dumbo ears, why don’t you just fly away with them

Noel- YOU GINGER DICKNOZZLE

Ocean- THAT DOESN’T MAKE ANY SENSE

Constance with a bag of chips- Now this is prime entertainment

—

Mischa is throwing junk food at Penny and Noel. Constance is filming them

Constance- Here’s Mischa starting an illegal animal fight

Noel is growling while Penny is circling Mischa

Mischa, holding wafer cookies- Ready? Go!

Penny catches it but Noel wrestles it out of her hands. She gives in before snatching a bag of chips out of Mischa’s hands that he was eating

Mischa- That wasn’t up for auction!

—-

It’s round 2 of the illegal animal fight.

Constance- Alright round 2 everyone! Also if fruit snacks are thrown at you don’t catch them, you’ll just get attacked

Mischa throws the snack when no one is ready. Penny shrugs before going to Mischa’s bag and taking something out and bolting

Mischa- OH MY GOD SHE HAS MY WALLET

Noel- Yeah, you’re not getting that back

#ride the cyclone #rtc #ocean o'connell rosenberg #mischa bachinski #noel gruber #ricky potts #constance blackwood #penny lamb

8 notes · View notes

beaneomawritrblr · 5 years ago

Text

I think I will never be okay with the invisibilization of bisexuality in the first season of How to Get Away With Murder (kind of spoiler alert):

Gay guy: huehuehue girl I slept with your fiancé when we were 16 hehe

Straight girl: [straight panicks]

Girl’s fiancé: I AM NOT GAY !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!¡¡¡¡!!¡!¡

Everyone: bUt YoU HoºkEd Up WitH a GuYyY

Bisexuality: hey gu-

Girl’s fiancé: YEAH BUT I WAS JUST HORNY AND A TEENAGER IT WAS NOTHING

Bisexuality: fuck you all to hell

#Bisexuality #Invisibilization #how to get away with murder is pissing me off #no really #such an interesting show and I get mad every time someone mentions it #they are not even homophobes the gay guy kicks ass why do they do this

2 notes · View notes

damonjuicyscock · 2 years ago

Note

a fluffy damon one shot maybe😁

Ah... Maybe indeed. Just joking, here it is lovie !

Broken I lie, all my feelings denied, blood on your fist.

Pairing: 80’s Damon Albarn X Reader

Warnings: Angst (violence, fight, bullying, absolute disgusting homophobic language forgive me it's for the oneshot and to raise awareness against something that sadly still exists), Fluff, maybe some spelling mistakes

Words: 1304

Summary: You are in high school with Damon Albarn. You have a huge crush on him, and he has a huge crush on you. The thing is you are both too shy to talk to each other. One day, you walk to go to your favourite music store, and you cross the path of guys harassing and beating someone in the street. This someone is Damon. You help him and finally get to talk to him while curing him.

A/N: Here I am for our weekly one shot! The title is inspired from the song Why by Bronski Beat which is a song I love a lot, talking about homophobia and Love between persons from the same gender. I chose it because as you may know, Damon was thought gay by his comrades in school and was beaten up for this (which is absolutely disgusting). Some of you may have started school or studies again and Harassment or school harassment is a topic that touches me a lot, as I’ve been a victim of it, and I punish it severely as you could see in the posts where people were seeing disgusting things to me. I defend people who are victim of harassment in general because no one should live that.

Enjoy!

(The picture is of bad quality sorry, but that's 1986 Damon, how you should imagine him in the One shot ;) )

It was 1986, your last year in high school before college. You didn’t know what you wanted to do later, even if this year was a decisive one.

Since your first year of high school, you had noticed a handsome young man who charmed you. His name was Damon Albarn, and you were in theatre class together. Looks were exchanged, but nothing else, you were too shy or too afraid to be rejected to talk to him. Though, you were both blushing while looking at each other.

One Saturday afternoon, while you were walking from your neighbourhood to your favourite music store, you heard people shouting.

Curious about what was happening, you walked towards the voices.

You saw a band of guys beating a poor boy on the ground, giving him kicks and punches.

you dirty faggot, go back to crying in your mummy's skirt, that's all you can do, right you dirty faggot? You like being grabbed by the ass, don't you? Say it!

No, leave me alone! The boy answered

you couldn’t stand to see this, and you had a temperament. You knew these boys wouldn't touch you if you hit them. Your father had always taught you to stand up for others, and that's what you were going to do. You weren’t going to look away, not ever.

Hey, leave him alone you fucker! I shouted, fist balled up

Go away Y/L/N, it’s none of your business.

In fact it is, do I have to remember you that what you’re doing is illegal and that your father is mine’s employee? So I advise you to stop before I tell him.

You think I’m scared of my dad? He chuckled

Okay, I would have tried.

You took him by the arm and punched him in the face. He fell on the ground.

Hey, you just hit me! He said, his nose bleeding

it's not just the boys who hit. Now fuck off, out of my way you asshole!

He woke up and indicated to his minions to follow him.

You’re going to regret it Y/L/N, it’s a promise!

Yeah, yeah, we’ll see that, piss off!

They left and you helped the young lad who was on the ground, crying.

Hey, are you okay? You said

That when you saw his face even through all the blood, cuts and bruises. It was Damon.

Oh my god Damon, I didn’t recognize you!

Yeah, they kicked my ass, didn't they?

You handed him your hand to help him get up.

Why did they beat you?

They think I’m gay.

You rolled your eyes.

Goddamnit, Do you want to go to the police?

Huh? Oh no thank you, and I’m not Y/N.

It doesn’t change anything that you’re gay or not, they aggressed you, you have to file a complaint!

It’s usual, don’t worry.

What? It isn’t the first time they beat you up like this?

No. I’m used to know. But I think this time they cracked a rib.

For fuck’s sake. My father will definitely hear about this. Do you need help to walk?

No, I’m okay thanks.

Okay, you come with me, I have everything we need at my place.

It’s okay I’m…

No Damon, please, come with me.

The young lad smiled weakly and followed you to your place. Your parents weren’t there, and happily, because otherwise they would make a big deal of it and you knew it.

First door at your left, it’s my room. Sit on my bed and wait for me.

Aye, aye, madam!

You went in the bathroom to grab the first aid kit before going to your room.

Okay, don’t move okay? It’s probably going to hurt and I’m sorry about that.

It’s okay, thanks.

You put on the pair of disposable gloves, opened the small bag containing an alcohol-soaked compress and began to pat the areas of the face where Damon was injured.

He hissed at the feeling, a bit hurt.

I’m sorry…

It’s okay, it hurts less than when they were beating me.

You smiled weakly, pursuing your actions.

So… what are you planning on doing next year?

Oh, going to college. Goldsmith If I can.

do you want to continue with the theatre?

If I can, yes. What about you?

Oh, I don’t know.

You should make law studies.

Oh yeah? Why’s that?

Well… you're always ready to defend others, and above all you're the first girl I've seen give another guy a hard time. You're a born vigilante.

Well thank you Damon, it’s kind of you. But I wasn’t going to let you being beaten up by other guys, what I did was normal.

Yeah, but I’ve already seen you defend other people, in the high school corridors. I swear you should become a lawyer.

He was sincere in his words. You smiled at him.

When you were done curing the cuts on his face, you were ready to tackle the wounds on his chest.

Okay, take off your top.

So soon! You should have told me that’s how you wanted me. He said, winking at you

You rolled your eyes while he was taking his top off. He had cuts in here, but he had a lot of bruises that seemed to make him suffer.

I’m going to get some ice for your bruises, stay here.

Where could I go after all?

When you got in the kitchen, you exhaled shakily. It had taken you a lot of courage to talk to him. Now you had to have the guts to tell him you liked him. Or maybe was it too soon. You didn’t know.

You just took the ice, put the cubes in a tea towel and got back to your room.

Take this. You said, handing it to him

Thank you, Wonder Woman.

Don’t call me that! You chuckled

Do you want to know something?

What?

Do you know you’re cute when you laugh?

You blushed

Thank you. You said, sitting beside him

You were looking at your feet. Oh god the goosebumps invading your belly. The man could get your heart with only one look.

A lock of your hair fell over your face, and Damon tucked it behind your ear.

You know… I may have been beaten up today, but it looks like it was for a good cause... at least I got treated by the most beautiful girl I finally know.

You smirked.

You really do think I’m pretty?

You are Y/N. You really are.

Thank you. You smiled

Can I ask you something? He asked

Yes?

Can I kiss you?

Well well, it goes pretty fast between us, handsome.

He laughed

We've wasted enough time poking around without talking and glaring at each other, don't you think?

Yeah, you might be right.

His face approached yours and he put his lips delicately on yours, in a sweet kiss.

His tongue asked for entrance, and you let him, wrapping your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Your tongues danced together until you were out of breath.

When the kiss came to an end, Damon looked at you in the eyes, smiling like an idiot.

Well now… we could get to know each other more. Would you like to go for a snack, great nurse?

That would be lovely Damon.

Maybe soon I will be able to call this incredible nurse and lawyer my girlfriend?

Ah, who knows?

#damon albarn oneshot #damon albarn fluff #damon albarn #damon albarn fanfic #gorillaz #britpop #blur band #fluff #fuck homophobia #fuck harassment #fuck bullying #fightagainstbullying #blur

37 notes · View notes

tinnchan · 2 years ago

Note

@thiansong

EP 1 THOUGHTS!!!!!!! had to go to sleep yesterday but here i am now

first of all i really enjoyed it. but also it made me cry already and i wasn't mentally prepared for that. they said let's see how much trauma we can inflict on this little gay boy in the span of one episode. i'm adopting thian and taking him away from that house. we're going to chinese opera together and i'm buying him all the prettiest hairpins. no but how can you treat a child like that???? he literally was just playing wtf leave him alone!!!!! i want to jump into the screen and protect him with my life

the way the wives are looking at each other with fierce eyes is really funny ngl. and the fake ass cgi snake 💀 when that aunty brewed the potion and healed thian i was about to stan but then she turned out homophobic :/

also the brotherly bond 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 you both mentioned it and i can see it already. when yang asked thian to perform for him??? and said that he'll take him to see the opera even though he clearly wasn't into it himself 🥺 best ally since kindergarten. they mean so much to me already

it is not fair that the ep ended with grown up thian and i won't be able to watch the next ep until monday 😭 btw how old is he supposed to be?

about the tender gay romance it all went by very quickly but i remember a scene where thian is sleeping on a table and the other guy is treating a tiny wound on his finger? at least that's how i saw it. now do i generally like the wound tending trope? not really. but this? this made me go 😳🥺 and also that moment when thian was looking up at the guy with sooo much love in his eyes

- @ahxu-laowen

adding to my first ep thoughts (idk if you got that ask tho my internet kept lagging 😭) i might be crazy but i got some ~vibes~ from the man who told them about the cut sleeves idk what was that about they kept focusing on him 👀 is he secretly gay and in love with tian's dad or what. but imagine being tian and the first time you hear the word homosexual is in those circumstances. and then you hear your mom say that you are acting like that man who got kicked out by your dad and then killed himself and she cries and tells you that you can never ever be like that or you'll lose everything and punishes you. and then you grow up and realise that you are like that man. what kind of future can he see for himself with all this trauma. god this is so fucked up i want to throw hands also idk about bua (?? the mistress really not sure if that's her name or something i cane up with) like she's too good. i don't trust that. she will either do something bad or something bad will happen to her. but for now i like her 🥺 she found out what homosexual meant and immediately bacame an ally sorry for being incoherent akhshks i'm rotating the first ep in my head like it's a microwave. why did i start watching this when i knew i won't be able to continue until three days later 😭😭😭😭 - @ahxu-laowen

First of all, I am so sorry I took this long to reply and deprived Quan of your episode 1 thoughts. This was utterly responsible as co-holder of the cojoint to sir with love, ask box. I shall endeavour to respond much more promptly from now on.

I am so so so glad you enjoyed it! And oof, YES. The first episode was INTENSE. I feel so so bad for Zhang and his lover and young Tian who had to witness this tragedy and it being used against him as a source of shame. Oof. Forever slightly confused that Madam Li saw his very young son dress up as a Chinese opera heroine once and and immediately concluded that yes, this is a raging homosexual in the making. Which, sure, kinda but I hate that she is right in this instance. I want nothing more than to tag along with you as you kidnap young Tian and shower him with the love and affirmation he deserves and a 1000 hairpins. T H E C G I S N A K E S. I nearly dropped the show cause I was laughing too hard but im glad i persevered. THE BROTHERLY LOVE. Let me just say that we must also kidnap Yang because there's no Tian without Yang. They love each other so fiercely it is absolutely the core of the show and my favourite part about it and I cannot wait for you to witness it. They are absolutely everything. When you said tender gay yearning I went "pff...you mean all of their scenes together" but it totally makes sense that it's THAT scene. I am glad that you like Bua but I shall not expand more in case I accidentally spoil you on whether or not she stays wholesome and pure and an #ally. Same thing for the guy who is suspiciously knowledgeable about the legend of the cut sleeve. Mayhaps he is just Mr exposition guy..mayhaps he is more. We shall see. Also...Omg?! I don't know how you are managing because I remember that episode finishing on these shots of a grown up Tian smiling to his notebook and my heart nearly exploded inside my chest I immediately had to click onto the next episode.

#sofia tag #ask #thank you so much for sharing your thoughts about the show with us they made my day <3333 #it's so fun to watch you engage with this show like this i hope you have loads of fun with it <3333 #you are the sweetest

4 notes · View notes

bloodycreaturee · 3 years ago

Text

gonna react to the new child's play series because why the heck not

⚠ SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 1 AHEAD ⚠

- ok so the kid's name is jake and he got chucky at a yard sale cool cool

- OOOO HE MAKES SCULPTURES FROM DOLL HEADS THAT'S SO COOL CAN I HELP I WANNA BE YOUR FRIENDDDD

- oh shit he's trying to decapitate chucky no-

- ok that didn't work that's good

- oh wow his dad seems like a dick

- ok his cousin and aunt and uncle are over for dinner

- oh shit his cousin is smart. seems like a piece of shit though

- I WAS RIGHT HE'S A PIECE OF SHIT

- OH SHIT JAKE IS FRUITY

- and his cousin is homophobic i'm gonna kick his balls

- i think his dad is homophobic too 🤠

- chucky kill him first please

- kidding. kinda

- damn he doesn't even know his own kid's age

- his aunt is snooping around in his room ma'am what the fuck you're gonna get yourself killed

- yeah she's definitely gonna die

- ok she isn't dead but i think she's cheating on her husband and chucky definitely knows now

- JAKE'S DAD IS FUCKING DESTROYING HIS SCULPTURE WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU YOU CRUSTY FUCKING IDIOT

- i'm gonna cry CHUCKY PLEASE KILL HIS MOTHERFUCKING ASS

- jake looks so distraught :(

- he has chucky though. hopefully chucky is actually nice to him and helps him out or something

- i feel so bad for him

- wait does he wanna sell chucky???!!!

- oh wow he's taking him to school yes chucky get that education

- the people laughing at him obviously don't know how fucking LUCKY they are to be in the presence of a legend

- oh wait jake still doesn't know he has the actual chucky

- oh shit does jake have a crush????? 👀

- oh wait he's friends with his cousin. ew

- not jake's friend having a crush on junior (the cousin 🤮)

- oh shit wait. HOLD UP LMAO. JUNIOR IS DEFINITELY FRUITY TOO. DEFINITELY A HOMOPHOBIC GAY. you aren't hiding shit junior

- oh wait junior's gf gives me season 1 amber from andi mack vibes. she's a bitch lol (i love amber but come on she was a huge bitch)

- oh crap he has to dissect a frog in a class and he hates blood. chucky, be a good friend and stab the frog for him pretty please

- CHUCKY WHEN I SAID STAB THE FROG THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT ABORT MISSION ABORT MISSION WHAT THE FUCK HE STRAIGHT UP DISMEMBERED IT 😭😭😭😭 JAKE LOOKS TERRIFIED

- rip frog 2021

- THAT BITCH SHE'S TRYING TO RIDICULE HIM I HATE HER

- ok but the guy jake seems to be crushing on seems nice

- chucky please don't kill the teacher she seems nice too

- OH HER NAME IS LEXI FUCK YOU LEXI I HOPE YOU STEP ON LEGOS

- OH SO SHE'S THAT TYPE OF BITCH

- YOU CAN'T GIVE ME DETENTION 🤪 OR MY PARENTS WILL SUE THE SCHOOL 🤪

- oooo the teacher left lexi in the same room as chucky 👀 i wonder if he's gonna scare the bitch out of her 👀

- awww jake was listening to his crush's true crime podcast and then he went to sit down with him and jake got all flustered

- HE ASKED HIM TO BE ON HIS PODCAST AHHHHH JAKE YOU BETTER SAY YES

- oh wait nevermind the dude fucked up

- i was really rooting for you mannnnnn

- ok so back to lexi and chuckyyyyy

- OH SHIT HE MOVED AHAHAHAH

- YES CHUCKY SCARE THAT BITCH

- she's such a bully ugh

- LMAO SHE SAW HIM MOVE, SHE GOT SCARED, THE TEACHER WALKED BACK IN WITH ANOTHER LADY, LEXI WAS SO SCARED SHE WANTED TO LEAVE, AND THEN SHE SAID "I GOTTA STOP SMOKING SO MUCH WEED BEFORE CLASS" JFKSBDKAND

- ok so jake is trying to sell chucky and he gave this guy his number because he's interested and. the guy is giving me weird vibes i don't like it. suspish

- oh wait the dude is warning him. told him to check chucky's batteries. smart

- oooo he found the murder cases from the 80's... i wonder if andy will make an appearance

- OH SHIT SO EARLIER JAKE ASKED HIS TEACHER TO KEEP CHUCKY IN HER CLASSROOM FOR HIM UNTIL HE SOLD IT AND CHUCKY SNUCK BACK INTO HIS HOUSE AND JAKE LOOKS SO CONFUSED

- OK OK HE'S CHECKING THE BATTERIESSSSSSS

- ✨ N O B A T T E R I E S ✨

- jake honey... you throwing him in the trash isn't gonna do anything... she literally escaped being locked in your teachers cabinet... this is nothing...

- ok there's a talent show. lover boy plays pianoooo. lexi is a fucking bitch ❤ she better not say anything to jake

- aaaaand she said something to jake 🤠 i should've seen that coming

- OH NO

- YOU MOTHER FUCKER IS SHE TRYING TO OUT HIM/EXPOSE HIS CRUSH ON DEVAN??? (lover boy)

- I'M GONNA UGHHHJFKSBXKS YOU PIECE OF SHIT I HATE YOU

- LMAO WAIT CHUCKY SNUCK IN AND HE'S DEFENDING JAKE

- NOBODY KNOWS IT'S A DOLL (at least not yet i think) BUT I KNOW THAT VOICE IT'S HIM IT'S HIM AHHHHH

- we love an ally ❤🏳‍🌈

- chucky. jake. what are y'all doing. they're going on stage.

- "HI I'M CHUCKY AND I'M YOUR FRIEND TO THE END. YOU GET THAT NOW, JAKE, RIGHT? NOW, I'VE SAID FRIEND, JAKE. NOTHING MOREEEE. NOT THAT THERE'S ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT" CHUCKY I LOVE YOU

- OMG CHUCKY HAS LEXI'S PHONE AND IS EXPOSING HER BECAUSE SHE TRIED TO OUT JAKE HAHAH

- NOT HIM EXPOSING JAKE'S AUNT FOR CHEATING TOO

- CHUCKY HAS ALL THE TEA I STG

- I CAN'T I FUCKING CAN'T HE'S READING LEXI'S SEARCH HISTORY OUT LOUD (THEY'RE ON STAGE FOR THE TALENT SHOW BTW AND THERE'S A LOT OF PEOPLE WATCHING) AND HE SAID LEXI IS INTO P O K E M O N P R O N

- i forgot how funny chucky is 😭😭

- aw damn, jake got suspended :(

- oh shit his dad is abusive and hates that he's gay chucky get the knife and stab the back of his knees idk what it's called shush

- jake's dad took chucky away from him and placed him somewhere and chucky isn't there anymoreeeee 🤪

- oooooh jake knowsssss

- piece of shit is going to the basement because the lights went out this is giving me child's play 2 vibes

- OH MY GOD CHUCKY REVEALED HIMSELF TOT HE DAD AND IS GETTING HIM ELECTROCUTED

- i think he's dead 🤠

- yeah he's dead. the cops and ambulance showed up.

- devan's mom is the detectiveeeeee

- ok so he's gonna have to go stay with his uncle and shitty aunt and cousin. devan's mom/the detective definitely suspects something isn't right

- just realized things are gonna be awkward since chucky kinda exposed his aunt for cheating and junior's gf lexi for cheating also. it wasn't him, but obviously they'll blame him over the doll since they don't know what's going on

- "talk to me. i said talk to me dammit. alright" REFERENCE TO THE FIRST MOVIE AHHH

- CHUCKY SLAPPED HIM I'M SORRY BUT THAT WAS SO FUNNY

- OOOOO WE'RE GONNA GET TO SEE CHARLES LEE RAY'S AKA CHUCKY'S CHILDHOOD IN THIS I'M INTRIGUED

ok so that was it for episode oneeee :D i really like this, it feels like it's gonna be good so far. i don't know if i'm gonna be able to watch more of the show since i found this one on youtube, but hopefully i can!! to anyone who actually read this, thank you and i hope you enjoyed me freaking out lol

#child's play series #child's play #chucky series #chucky

46 notes · View notes

fruitcoops · 4 years ago

Note

I don't know if you did this already (I'm sorry if you did) or somebody asked but could you do one where they supportive teammates reacts to homophobic teammates

Hello anon! This is a super interesting idea and I’ve been thinking about it for a couple days so I could get the vibe right--none of our boys would be homophobic, but new rookies on the other hand...

Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove, but this features a character who does not appear in SW (I’m not claiming him as an OC because he’s a dick)

TW for homophobic statements, no slurs

James caught sight of the new guy just as he was leaving the locker room, towel draped over his neck. “Rookie! Wait up, man!”

The other man paused, looking rather surprised as he jogged over. “Hey, you’re James, right?”

“Call me Pots.” He held his hand out and they shook. “Didn’t catch your name earlier, sorry.”

“Tanner Chase, nice to meet you.”

“Welcome to the team, Tanner.” James grinned. “You’re on my line, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’m a winger,” Tanner said with a good bit of pride. Oh, to be twenty again, James thought. “Giving you a run for your money.”

“Sure, kid,” James laughed. “You do that. You’d have better luck with me than Loops, though.”

Tanner’s smile turned a little sharp. “Nah, he’d be too easy, am I right?”

James paused. “What?”

“Y’know, since he’s…” Talker gave him a significant look and a stone sank in James’ gut.

“I think you lost me.” I hope this isn’t what I think it is. “Because he’s a rookie? ‘cause I hate to break it to you, but—”

“No, dude, because he’s a fairy,” he snorted, as if they were still joking around.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Tanner blinked and reeled back. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t get to talk about my friends like that. Don’t talk about anyone like that. It’s not tolerated on this team and I won’t hesitate to kick your ass if I hear it again.” James made sure his voice was as even as possible, but he could tell it shook at the edges. “You just used up your one free pass, Chase.”

“Drive safe, Loops!” Talker called as Remus headed for the hall with his bag under his arm.

Sirius opened the door just as he reached it and his face broke into a smile. “Bonjour, mon amour, I was just looking for you. Ready to go?”

“Hiya, handsome.” He leaned up to peck him on the lips. “Yeah, I think I left my phone on the bench, though.”

Their conversation faded out as they wandered off together and Talker returned to his stretch, closing his eyes at the familiar burn in his hamstring. “Yikes,” the new rookie muttered under his breath. Tanner…something, Talker remembered.

“What’s up? You okay?”

Tanner glanced over at him. “Doesn’t it bother you?”

“Stretching? Not really, no. That’s why I do it.”

“No, not stretching. That.” He waved a hand at the slightly-open door.

“I can close it if you—”

“Dude.” Talker crossed his legs and faced him fully. “I mean Black and Lupin.”

Talker narrowed his eyes. “No. Does it bother you?”

“I mean, yeah, how am I supposed to respect a guy like that?” he scoffed.

Talker made direct eye contact with him; he wanted zero miscommunication about this. “You respect him because he’s your captain, which is a title he earned that has nothing to do with who he loves. And you respect Loops, too, or we’re going to have an issue. I don’t know what the fuck you’re thinking bringing that attitude to this team, but you better drop it right now.”

Tanner turned back to his stretch. With a shake of his head, Talker collected his stuff and left him alone on the mats.

III

“Hey, Harzy.” Tanner sat down next to Finn on the bench and passed him a waterbottle. There was a shout from the ice as Remus stole the puck from Sirius’ stick and raced toward the goal, laughing loudly.

“Tan-man, what’s up?”

“What’s the deal with them?” he asked, lowering his voice.

“Cap and Loops? They’re engaged, didn’t you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” There was a slight tone shift that made Finn’s skin crawl. “But what do you think about it? Isn’t it, like, a little weird being on the same team as them?”

“Uh, no.”

Tanner’s eyebrows rose. “You aren’t afraid they’re looking at you or something?”

“What part of ‘engaged’ don’t you understand?” Finn’s jaw tightened. What a little shit. “If this is some homophobic fuckery, I’d like to take this time to remind you I have two boyfriends before you say something that gets you punched.”

Tanner’s eyes went wide and he scooted away without a word.

“Alright, everyone, Sid’s tonight?” Kasey shouted over the noise. The whole locker room cheered in agreement and he smiled as the buzz of victory filled his chest. “Knutty, since my team kicked your ass, I believe you owe me a pizza!”

“I still say Cap is a cheater!” Leo called back; within a few seconds, Sirius had him in a loose headlock as he ruffled his hair. “Alright, alright, I give!”

The volume level did not die down as they all flooded into the hallway—Kasey spotted a flash of mousy brown hair out of the corner or his eye and frustration lodged in his throat. In a smooth movement, he reached out and blocked Tanner from following the rest of the group out. “Not you.”

“But it’s a team dinner—”

“And you’re not part of the team until you get your head out of your ass,” he said coolly. The jumble of voices echoed around the corner. That was his team. “Don’t think I missed those looks you were shooting Cap and Loops. You’re not invited. Go home and think about what actually matters.”

They won the next game by a landslide. Arthur Weasley was furious. Every time an opponent came to check Tanner Chase, not a single Lion moved to help him. At one point, Pots had taken the puck right off his stick and skated down the ice for a goal, leaving him in the dust. Whenever Chase was on the bench, he was pointedly ignored by the rest and left to sit alone; Logan literally sat on Talker’s lap to avoid being within five feet of the rookie.

“Team meeting, everyone sit your asses down!” he barked as he entered the locker room. Immediately, the celebratory whoops quieted. “Anyone want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

Sirius looked up at him in confusion. “I thought we played pretty well, Coach.”

“You played fine, but Chase over here got the cold shoulder like I’ve never seen before. Even the fucking commentators noticed!”

“Good,” Finn muttered under his breath.

“Shut it, O’Hara, this is not good.” He took a deep breath to try and calm himself. “Once again, does anyone want to enlighten me on this sudden attitude toward rookies? Since when are we like this?”

“It’s not toward rookies, it’s toward him,” Kasey said, glaring at Tanner from his stall. “He’s a homophobic douchebag. You want to tell Coach what you said?”

Tanner stared at the floor.

Arthur’s fury vanished. “What? Chase, is that true?” The rookie stayed silent. “Hey, kid, I’m talking to you.”

“Yes, Coach.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Remus’ jaw tick and Sirius’ face grow stormy.

“How long has this been going on?”

“It started the first day of practice,” Pots said, crossing his arms. “Our first conversation, in fact.”

“Eyes on me, rookie.” Tanner winced as he looked up. “I know the organization has told you in the past that this kind of behavior is okay, but right here and right now, I’m telling you it’s not. If you’re going to continue with that, you can leave.”

“I just get uncomfortable when—”

“When what?” Remus asked, standing up and leaning on his stall. He looked overall unthreatening, but there was a stony look in his eyes. “Tanner, what did Sirius and I do to make you uncomfortable?”

Tanner floundered for a moment. “It’s just—the kissing, the cuddling, the nicknames, all that.”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem when Lily came to visit,” Remus continued. “Or Natalie, or Noelle, or Celeste. Is that correct?”

“Yeah.”

“But it bothers you when I call my fiancé ‘baby’, or he calls me ‘sweetheart’?”

“It does.”

“Tanner, I hope you know I’m not going to apologize,” he finally said. “If this had nothing to do with us being gay, we would tone down the PDA, but that’s clearly not the case.”

Sirius sighed. “None of us want to alienate you, but you’re making judgements before taking the time to know us. That’s a shitty thing to do.”

“You’ve never met an openly gay person before, have you?” Remus asked. Tanner shook his head. “Hi, I’m Remus Lupin. I play a wing position on the hockey team that you were just signed to and my favorite color is green. I have a dog named Hattie and I’m engaged to a man. Nice to meet you.”

Sirius walked across the room; Arthur tensed for a moment, but he stopped in front of Tanner and held his hand out. “Sirius Black, team captain. I play center and I hate pineapple pizza. Also, I’m gay. Congrats on being signed to the Lions.”

Tanner’s eyes flickered up, and after a moment’s hesitation, he shook Sirius’ hand. “Nice to meet you.” He swallowed thickly. “Cap.”

“Nice to meet you, too. Are we done with the bullshit?”

“It—it might take me a bit to get used to it.”

“Make it quick. We’ve got games to win and nobody here has time to hold your hand through it.” Sirius turned to look at everyone else, his Captain Face in full effect. “That goes for everyone, got it? No more cold shoulders, we talk this through like adults as soon as it happens.”

“You got it, Cap,” Pots said.

“Black, Lupin, can we talk?” Coach beckoned them toward the door; just before it closed, he saw Talker walk over to Tanner’s stall.

“That’s why you respect Cap and Loops,” Talker said quietly. “Not because of threats or some shit—because of that right there.”

227 notes · View notes

zayray030 · 4 years ago

Text

Don't Mess With Shiratorizawa's setter

Summary: Semi didn't appreciate having his boyfriend ogled by a bunch of boys. It was time to set things straight.

Relationships: Semi Eita/Shirabu Kenjirou

If those absolute assholes did not shut the fuck up in the next five seconds someone was going to get whacked by his chemistry textbook and then stabbed with a whisk.

And that was the least descriptive killing method that the Shiratorizawa team had for killing the asshole, homophobes that sat on the table in front of them, shit-talking Shirabu, whilst said boy had gone to get a book

“Satori, I need your help to help restrain myself from injuring these boys. I would much rather not inform my father that I have regressed to methods such as punching to let out my anger,” said Ushijima, the usually stoic teen having a demeanour of complete rage surrounding him.

“You're funny, big guy if you actually think I'm going to stop you from killing those brats.” came Tendou’s tight response.

“Semi-San? Are you okay?” asked Goshiki. The poor boy was probably the only thing stopping the team from committing first-degree murder but they could tell it was all being reluctant.

“If one more thing about my boyfriend comes out of those prejudistic assholes and it has to do with the size of his ass, or his clothes, or anything to do with sex then I will personally admit to being guilty at the trial.” Semi threatened darkly and Goshiki resisted the urge to shudder. His Senpai was scary when it came to their setter.

“As his best friend I allow this,” muttered Kawanishi, equally as dark. He did not appreciate hearing that shit come from those boys. Shirabu might be a brat but he was his best friend dammit and nobody was allowed to say anything about him.

Okay, so like let's fast forward a couple of hours ago before the Shiratorizawa boys volleyball team had begun to discuss torture methods on how to kill the idiots talking about their bratty yet adorable setter.

~A few hours ago~

Semi was going to go into cardiac arrest. He was sure of it. That was the only excuse for why his heart had begun racing to the point he was sure he would have to go to his doctor as quickly as possible.

Or maybe it was because seeing his boyfriend (yes! Boyfriend! God, he was never going to get tired of saying it) of three months in an adorably oversized, pink pastel sweatshirt and shorts so short you couldn't see them below the sweatshirt. Along with this ridiculously adorable look, his salty boyfriend had a pair of golden round glasses on and his cheeks were flushed.

Semi Eita would gladly die right here and now and be quite happy with his life. After all, this image of his boyfriend was enough to check everything off his bucket list.

The rest of the team seemed to have the same thought, all of them just staring at his boyfriend as if he was an angel and if they weren't used to his normal saltiness they would have all assumed him to be an angel. Even Ushijima seemed to find his boyfriend angelic cause the normally stoic teen seemed to have his jaw unclenched. And in Ushijima language that practically meant his jaw was dropping.

All except Kawanishi seemed to have trouble thinking as they stared at Shirabu. Kawanishi, the little fucker, had had the nerve to just simply waltz up to the work of art and hug the smaller boy. The boy replied with the same energy as a tame cat turned savage and he aimed consistent kicks at his best friend's ankles.

“Put me down you savage.” the boy hissed and Kawanishi snorted before finally releasing the boy.

“I'm going to ignore the hypocrisy just this once.” said the taller boy.

When Shirabu merely touched he turned around and threw a smug look at Semi, the expression rare on his normally deadpan face. The look screamed, ‘Ha, I get privileges as his best friend that you don't get and you're his boyfriend, bitch.’

Okay, so Semi might be over-exaggerating but it was clear that the second year had it for him, especially after he had started dating Shirabu.

It wasn't that Kawanishi wasn't supportive of his best friend. In fact, he had been ecstatic when the two setters had announced their relationship cause it meant that Shirabu wouldn't be talking about the older boy constantly and asking whether he liked him or if he would be kicked out of the team for being gay and if the team would tell anyone and if it would be like with his dad.

He was glad that his best friend was no longer second-guessing himself but he had seen Kenjirou at his most vulnerable and he wasn't sure he wanted anyone else to see him like that. If Semi wanted to earn the right for him not to be a prettier brat than even Shirabu then he would have to earn the gingers trust.

(Who knew that that time would come in like, the next two hours.)

“Eita,” Kenjirou said, usually monotone voice happy as he walked over to his boyfriend. He'd gained more confidence over the course of their relationship and had started initiating things first now.

Semi had to suck in a deep breath when the small boyfriend wrapped his arms around him. ‘The sweater is as soft as it looks.’

“Baby,” he answered back, with his usual smirk and internally cheated when the boy blushed and puffed out his cheeks. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Tendou clutch his chest and he couldn't blame him, Shirabu was adorable.

“Loser,” he mumbled, face still burning and stud on his toes to peck his cheek. The boy quickly turned around, cheeks flushing and walked away, making a show of making everyone follow him. Semi followed, with a giddy grin on his face. He so wasn't going to get used to that.

Everyone, although still slightly shook at seeing their feral setter in such adorable attire, followed the shortest player.

“So, Kenjirou~” began Tendou, leaning into his Semi’s boyfriend. Out of a fit of jealousy and not really thinking about it, he pulled the younger onto his lap and shot Tendou a glare. His boyfriend however seemed more reactant to the surprising touch, if the immediate blush didn't say anything.

The redhead on the other hand simply smirked at the reaction before turning to the boy with uneven bangs.

“I didn't know you couldn't look so cute!” he teased. Wrong thing to say, which was made clear when Taichi immediately tensed and winced.

“Problem?” Shirabu answered testily and Tendou knew he accidentally stepped on a nerve far too raw to be touched.

“Well, I wasn't going to say it's bad. Just different. Which suits you.” he says, trying to salvage the situation and make the air less tense and awkward.

That wasn't enough for one Shirabu Kenjirou however, and he continued to scowl, turning back to his text.

“What Satori is trying to say,” and Ushijima, ever the peace-loving farm boy he was, decided to help Tendou with indirectly apologising to their underclassmen. “Is that you do indeed look different. But you also look cute and content. And I feel like that should be enough.” his normally blunt voice softened a degree as if to not scare the boy that idolised him so much.

Kenjirou just blushed and everyone present wished that they had the ability to sneakily take pictures on their phones.

Semi simply cuddled Shirabu’s back and continued to work on his assignment, adamant on both ignoring his boyfriends best friends glare and cuddling with his boyfriend. It was peaceful and quiet, and everyone in the Shiratorizawa volleyball team felt themselves relaxing a significant bit.

However, that all changed when Shirabu got up to grab a book from the shelves to help him on one of the essays that he was stuck on and too stubborn to ask help for.

“You know you can always ask, right?” asked Reon, apparently one of the fastest to recover but nor completely. He at least had the human decency to not stare at Shirabu as if he was an object.

“Hmph,” replied Shirabu, already moving away. Everyone around the table chuckled at the sheer stubbornness before returning back to their studies.

Or at least that's what they would have wanted. Instead, they began being subjected to a bunch of immature boys talking about Shirabu.

“That ass looks tight.” one of the guys jeered, annoying voice lowered down enough so the librarian couldn't hear.

“I know right? Always knew that little brat was a slut.” another continued.

“Think we could corner him later and see if he is as tight as he looks?”

“I doubt he is. But, why the fuck not. Would love to see him put in his place.”

A small snapping sound came from the table where the volleyball team were at and Eita realised it was because he had snapped the pencil in his hand. And it had been his favourite one as well.

And that's how we got put in this situation.

“Bet you his volleyball teams already had a go at that ass. There's no other way he could have possibly made it on to this team without having to bend over for them.”

Semi stood up after hearing that. No way were they going to insinuate that his boyfriend, the guy who worked his ass off day and night to stay on as first string and to also keep up his grades, was only on the team because they were fucking him. No fucking way.

Nobody tried to stop him as he walked over to those boys. Taichi even looked excited at the thought of Semi beating them up.

“Hello there.” he greeted, flashing them all a bright smile.

Immediately, they all stiffened. He could faintly hear an ‘oh shit’ but his grin just became sharper. They wouldn't be feeling regret in the first place if they had kept their damn mouths shut.

“So I couldn't help but hear you guys talk about my boyfriend, Shirabu Kenjirou?” he questioned sweetly, but everyone could see the venom on his eyes, daring them to say anymore. Seems like some of the students at Shiratorizawa had death wishes.

“Oh yeah? And what about it? You gonna invite us to fuck his tight ass?”

Everybody stared at the boy, all wondering how in the great Lord's name he had managed to get into Shiratorizawa.

“No. I'm giving you an opportunity to shut the fuck up before I beat you into the next century,” he replied sweetly and he could see a few boys scooting away from the one who had been oh so stupid to try and provoke Semi. At least some seemed to be getting their survival instincts back.

“Oh yeah? And what are you going to about it you fag-” the boy never got to finish his sentence and he doubted the boy would ever be able to speak again, out of fear or physical inability who knew, as a fist connected into his mouth. The boys around them didn't say a peep but their eyes widened and they all huddled together scared. Good.

“Here's out it's going to go, k buddy boy? You are going to never look, talk or think about my boyfriend or me again? If I ever hear you say any of those words I will find you and show you the true power of the Shiratorizawa volleyball team.” his voice had gotten deeper and he could hear one of the boys whimpering.

When the boy who's collar he was holding nodded in fear he let him go and he fell into a crumpled heap on the floor.

“That goes for the rest of you,” he added back to the boys behind him who were trying to escape. Immediately they all nodded, all in fear. Immediately he flashed them all a grin that caused the fear in their eyes to grow. “Perfect! Hope to never see you assholes ever again,” he said brightly before making his way back to his table.

When he finally got there he was swarmed with quiet congratulations however Taichi stayed silent. After everyone finished praising Semi he spoke.

“If you hurt my best friend I will make you wish for death. Currently, I am holding you in high respect. Fuck that up and you'll be lower than those assholes.” and that had to be the most passion the normally dead inside boy had used.

“Got it,” Semi said, giving him finger guns. The look of utter disgust on the redhead's face made him let out a small laugh.

“What's gotten you so happy in a library?” came a voice from behind him and when he turned around it was his own personal angel.

“Nothing, sunshine,” he said, pulling the younger in between his legs and wrapping his arms around him. “I'm tired. Can we go back,” he whispered into the ear, hands grasped tightly onto his hips.

He could hear Shirabu tsk but his boyfriend complied. “Fine. Let's go you lazy, cute, jerk.” he huffed, cheeks blazing.

Semi just chuckled, bending down slightly to give the boy a kiss on the cheek.

He quickly packed their stuff up and waved bye to their friends. After that Shirabu went up to the librarian and asked to check out the book he had gotten for their studies.

Once they were outside Shirabu turned to him, face a mixture of gratitude and annoyance.

“You know you didn't have to do that, right?” asked Shirabu, raising an eyebrow at his boyfriend.

“If somebody tries to talk shit about the people I care about they will get the shit beat out of them. A fair system if I do say so myself,” said Semi, not even bothering to beat around the bush.

Shirabu stared at him and it was clear the boy was about to have a go at him before he yawned. “We'll finish this off when I don't feel dead on my feet, clear?” threatened Shirabu.

“Pfft, sure darling. Meanwhile, I'm going to take you to your dorm. And don't bother trying to argue with me.” he added when he saw Shirabu opening his mouth in protest.

The copper blonde shot him a glare before walking ahead. Semi merely chuckled, before going after him, slinging an arm around his waist.

By the next day, it seemed everyone had found out about the library incident. Semi managed to get away scot-free since there wasn't any evidence against him and soon the whole school learned not to fuck with the people on the Shiratorizawa team.

Well unless you wanted to die young.

#semi x shirabu #semishira #semi eita #shiritorizawa #shirasemi #shirabu kenjirou #ushijima wakatoshi #tendou satori #taichi kawanishi #goshiki tsutomu #Reon #Fluff #Protectiveness #Don't fuck with members of Shiratorizawa #Shiraby wearing pastel clothes is my favourite headconon

57 notes · View notes

foramomentonly · 4 years ago

Text

Saved-A Meet Ugly

Author’s Note: Behold, the promised meet ugly inspired by @aewriting ! Blatantly stealing titles from early aughts teen films of my youth at this point.

Summary: Alex discovers a) his new roommate is a Christian Fundamentalist who hates him, b) he’s love with said roommate, and c) he’s super wrong.

CW: negative perspective on organized Christianity/Fundamentalism

Read on AO3

Alex meets his dormmate briefly in the hall as he and his parents are heading out to lunch. Michael Guerin is friendly, his barely-contained, nervous energy evident in the restless way he passes his hands through his close-cropped curls. His parents are formal, bordering on sour, and they glare at Alex’s eyeliner and polished fingernails with disdain. They don’t invite him to eat with them. Then again, Alex thinks as they part and he wanders towards the room he’ll share with Michael, his own father didn’t even bother to drop him off at school. Glass houses, or some shit like that.

Michael has claimed the left side of the room, his bed neatly made up with simple, blue sheets and his desk stuffed with thick textbooks, some already clearly marked with wear. A battered, clunky-looking laptop charges on his nightstand. Some secret tension in Alex slowly uncoils with the knowledge that he isn’t sharing living space with some rich prick; when he eschewed the Manes family military tradition for higher education, Alex left home with little more than his scholarships and a military duffle stuffed with clothes and stolen linens to his name. Knowing his days of watching douchebags like Kyle Valenti flaunt expensive tokens of their parents’ unconditional love are over is a small comfort.

That is, until Alex notices the crucifix resting on Michael's plaid pillowcase. It’s innocuous enough; Liz Ortecho's small home has plenty, family heirlooms hung as reverently as Texas gas station finds, and Alex counts her among his true family. But the facts fall into place like thundering dominos—Michael’s parents' disgust at Alex's makeup, the family's conservative clothes, Michael's closely-chopped hair and, after a bit of snooping, the two well-worn Bibles Alex finds, one in Michael's nightstand and the other on his small bookshelf. Fundamentalists, most likely. Alex swears loud and defiant into the empty room. He thought he'd left bigots and homophobes in his dust, but like a plague of fucking locusts, they followed him, and here he is about to share a sink with one of them.

But Alex also knows better than most that kids aren’t always carbon copies of their parents’ stupidity; he’d flip his shit if someone assumed they knew literally anything about his beliefs based on his asshole father. So when Michael returns to the room Alex is in stealth mode, spread out across his bed and feigning disinterest by flipping through his welcome packet, tracking Michael’s movements out of the corner of his eye. Michael blows a loud puff of air out through his lips and looks like he’s about to flop onto his bed. When he sees the crucifix, he freezes; Alex is about to celebrate a victory against religious indoctrination when Michael lifts the small cross reverently off his pillow and, after an appraising scan of his space, hangs it low on the wall above his nightstand, dragging his school-issued lamp in front of it. He jerks his chin down in a small nod of satisfaction before his eyes dart quickly over to Alex; he almost catches Alex in a glower. Instead, Alex is quietly seething over an intramural sports schedule, his face blank, eyes burning holes in the middle of the page. He figures he’s in the clear when he hears Michael’s bedsprings creak with the sudden weight of his body. Alex glances up and Michael is crossing his arms lazily behind his head. He lets out a loud, satisfied sigh and shoots Alex a disarmingly sincere grin.

“Free at last, huh?” he drawls, and Alex arches a cold brow.

“Sure.”

Alex has every intention of icing Michael out of his daily existence, but as months go by—months where Michael lets his curls grow wild, rambles on and on about the science of irrigation, offers Alex his extensive biology notes for midterms, and laughs loud and deep at all of Alex’s snarky asides—Alex finds himself smiling easily at Michael in return, willingly passing lazy lunch hours and weekend afternoons with him. It comes down to this: for all Michael hasn’t done—the crucifix is an ever-present shadow above his nightstand and weekly video check-ins with his parents are never missed—he just doesn’t fit the mold. He smokes weed on the abandoned picnic tables behind the dorm at night, signs every social justice-oriented pledge and petition shoved at him on a cheap, plastic clipboard on their way to class, and he never wakes up before noon on Sundays. He isn’t fire and brimstone, hate and hellfire. He’s marshmellow fluff; laid back and open, sweet and eager to please, all messy curls and broad shoulders and goofy smiles with too much teeth and—oh, fuck. Alex is in love with him.

Alex is in love with Michael and Michael probably thinks Alex deserves to burn in hell and it’s Kyle all over again. Alex was never in love with Kyle Valenti, but he loved him the way a neglected, angry little boy would love the popular, gregarious kid who was his only source of sunlight. Graciously. Blindly. Kyle was Alex’s best friend, and when middle school puberty made evident that Kyle was a stud and Alex was, well. Alex felt the betrayal of Kyle’s sudden targeted cruelty like a punch to the gut, long before Kyle or his new friends ever laid hands on him. And now, Alex realizes, Michael is his best friend and his heart’s deepest desire and, he’s finally ready to admit, who he jerks off to on lazy mornings after Michael’s barely made it out the door for his 8 a.m. class with a shirt on. Alex is well and truly fucked. “Damned” is too on the nose.

Then one day Alex is dragging his miserably-in-love ass back from class and he totally misses the tie that slipped from the doorknob onto the ugly carpet in front of their door and he opens it on Michael and some random guy going at it on Michael’s bed, sheets bunched at the foot of the mattress, shirts tossed inside out on the floor, and Michael’s hand deep down the guy’s jeans as he pants and whines into Michael’s mouth.

“Shit!” Alex cries, waffling between shutting the door behind him to shield them from the prying eyes of hallway passers-by or in front of him to shut himself out of his own room. “I-I’m so sorry.”

Michael looks flustered, but it’s not the bone-deep terror of being outed; Alex is intimately familiar with that darkest timeline of queer identity. His boyfriend—hook up?—just looks annoyed. His dark eyes glare at Alex and he snaps, “Do you mind, man?” with a sharp nod towards the door. Alex squares his jaw and opens his mouth to retort when Michael says softly, seriously, “Don’t talk to him like that,” shaking his head at his bedmate. The guy huffs in disbelief, rolling off the bed to pull on his shirt, still inside out, and fasten his jeans, brushing his fingers through messy, deep brown hair.

“You’re seriously kicking me out right now?” he murmurs low, and when Michael doesn't answer, he spits, “You are such a dick.”

Michael winces and bites his lip, normally bright eyes dim and gaze cast down towards his own hands. The sight of Michael cowed, flushed and hurt and getting told off by the same Hot Topic reject who was getting off with him not five minutes ago trips Alex's long-dormant kill switch. He steps into the guy's space, pulling back his shoulders so his shirt stretches tight over the muscles of his arms and chest, and draws up to his full height.

"You have thirty seconds to get the fuck out of our room," Alex says, voice low and eerily calm, even to his own ears. The guy glowers at Alex, but the corner of his mouth twitches and he blinks first, intimidation evident in his narrowed eyes. He brushes past Alex and slams the door behind him.

"Are you okay?" Alex asks, moving closer to Michael on instinct and setting a comforting hand on his bare shoulder. Michael gazes up at him with wide, honey eyes, opens his soft, pink mouth, and blurts, "I love you."

Alex blinks, gapes, and what comes out of his mouth is an incredulous, “But I’m gay!”

Michael snorts, cups Alex’s forearm gently and runs his palm up and down his skin, the soft hair on his arms.

“Yeah, I know. That’s kinda why I’m hoping I have a shot.” He pauses, hesitation creeping across his face, and he takes his hand off of Alex abruptly, as though he hadn’t quite realized he’d put it there in the first place. “If you’re not interested, I totally—”

“No, no, I am,” Alex says, and the wattage of Michael’s answering grin could power the university’s electric grid for the rest of the semester. “But I thought you were, like, Team Westboro or whatever.”

Michael’s face falls, his whole body withers, and he hugs his arms around his naked waist. The impact of Alex's words on Michael horrify him, and he drops onto the bed next to Michael, takes Michael's hand in his and strokes his thumb across it’s back, feels the knots of Michael’s knuckles as he grips Alex's hand in return.

“Why the hell would you think that?” Michael asks, staring at their palms pressed together in his lap.

Alex shrugs, answers, "I mean, I didn't. I don't. Not about, like, you." Michael turns his head, brow wrinkled in confusion. "It's just. The cross? The Bibles? Your parents, I—"

"They're not my parents, "Michael interrupts, voice flat. "They raised me, but. They never formally adopted me, and I'd have fucking run the other direction if I thought they were gonna."

Alex stays quiet, waits for Michael to continue, squeezes his hand gently to let Michael know he's listening.

"They're Fundamentalist assholes, for sure, but I never bought into that shit, especially once I—I realized I like more than just girls." Michael reaches out, pushes his lamp out of the way and glares at the crucifix. "I'd love to never see their fucking faces ever again, but winter break is coming up, and then summer vacation, and—" He hangs his head, nearly whispers, "I need to have a place to go. I can't afford an apartment on my own yet. So I play nice. Put that on my wall and make sure it's in the background for video calls. There’s, like, zero support for kids who age out of the system alone. I fucking hate it, but I need them."

Michael leans his head close to Alex's, catches his gaze and holds it with deep, whiskey-colored eyes Alex all but falls into.

"I'm not ashamed of what I like or who I love," he says, "and I'm so fucking in love with you, Alex. I just thought maybe you weren't into me."

Alex licks his lips, and a flush of arousal darkens his cheeks as Michael tracks the movements of his tongue with hungry concentration.

"I'm extremely into you," he says, his throat very suddenly bone dry, his voice husky. Michael's gaze hasn't moved from his lips, but he has flipped Alex's hand in his lap, starts running slow, feather-light brushes of his fingertips across Alex's palm and up his arm, fingers snaking under the short sleeve of Alex's shirt.

"I really wanna kiss you," Michael breathes, "but I’m also aware you just walked in on me hooking up with, like, Alex Manes-lite, so I—"

Alex closes the distance between them, pressing his lips to Michael's and cupping his neck, fingers finding their way into Michael's curls like he's been fantasizing about for so long. They're silky, clingy, and Michael tastes like lingering mouthwash and he smells like rain and Alex presses himself into Michael's lap, desperate to feel Michael's arms around his waist, the hard press of his chest against Alex's.

"I really want to do more than kiss you," Alex pants when they reluctantly part for air, when Michael’s fingers slip beneath his shirt and his nails scrape down Alex’s spine, and Alex feels the touch much lower on the geography of his skin.

Michael laughs, loud and free, and his strong hands on Alex's hips guide his legs apart until Alex is straddling his lap, those same hands pushing Alex's shirt up his chest, over his head.

"Thank God," Michael laughs, and reaches for Alex's belt.

#roswell nm #malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #college au #meet ugly #cw: negative perspective on Christianity/Fundamentalism

56 notes · View notes

statticscribbles · 3 years ago

Text

Secret

Summary: Sweet Pea/Reggie Mantle, they’re secretly dating, and chuck snitches, the whole school finds out.

Reggie wasn’t embarrassed about dating Sweet Pea, he’d consider himself open about being into guys and he assumed Sweet Pea felt the same. Sweet Pea had never seemed bothered about being open, he knew Reggie had a good reason for keeping their relationship hidden.

”Reggie you okay?” Sweet Pea tilts his head and Reggie sighs laying on his bed and watching the fan circle.

“Just worried about someone catching on.”

“Well for now we have a school project that we get to pretend to hate so we can actually go on dates and shit without anyone saying anything about us.”

“Mhmm, we should go to Pop’s after school tomorrow.”

“For essay practice, of course, nothing about those delicious burgers or a date to spend time together.” Reggie rambles a little and Sweet Pea laughs.

“Are you just tired from pulling an all-nighter last night..”

“Oh yeah, all nighter studying, sooo not having sex with you at alllll.” Reggie laughs and Sweet Pea grins leaning over to kiss him and Reggie pulls him onto the bed with him. They’re laying next to each other when Sweet Pea turns to Reggie kissing him once more.

“Do you think we should tell everyone?” Reggie questions and Sweet Pea shakes his head.

“I mean besides your shitty homophobic parents potentially kicking you out, there’s everyone basically saying you’re trying to smooze up to a bad boy to get more popular, or saying you’re doing it for attention. And then worst case scenario the entire school ends up being homophobic and either bully or threaten us so we have to move, or we end up getting the shit beaten out of us, or we die! We could die Reggie!!”

Sweet Pea glares at the ceiling and Reggie laughs a little bit and then presses his forehead to sweet Pea’s turning himself so they’re both laying on their sides instead of laying on their backs. It doesn’t take long before they’re both kissing each other, keeping an ear out for Reggie’s father’s steps on the stairs.

“Hey Reggie can… holy fuck.” Reggie glares at Chuck who’s grin just seems to grow.

“You’re fucking gay, you fucking pansy I knew it. And you’re shacking up with that low life second rate Serpent too. This is fucking gold. Wonder what you’ll do to keep this out of the blue and gold. Hm?” Reggie’s about to respond but Sweet Pea beats him to it standing and sweeping Chuck against the wall in one motion.

“If you even think…” Sweet Pea hisses the rest into Chuck’s ear and Chuck shifts under Sweet Pea’s grasp.

“That’s what I thought, asshole.” Sweet Pea grins, assuring Reggie that they have nothing to worry about.

“Told me not to speak a word, never said I could text.” Chuck laughs but it’s cut off by Sweet Pea’s fist, Reggie hauls him backwards and Chuck glares.

“Course you’d be on the side of the guy who’s fucking you up your ass Mantle. Consider yourself off the team.”

“Like you have the ability to make that call.”

“You’re right, I don’t but everyone else will run you out of the school cause of what you’re doing with that snake.” Chuck snaps and Reggie keeps eying the front door.

“You really think running away will help?” Archie nudges Reggie’s shoulder, Jughead is talking to Sweet Pea, Betty is bandaging his knuckles.

“You guys aren’t upset?”

“No, I kind of guessed.” Veronica comments from where she’s sitting on the student lounge couch.

“Really, were we that obvious?”

“No I had no clue.” Archie tries to assure Reggie and Reggie just laughs.

“Archie, no offense man but you didn’t know Betty and Veronica were dating until they told you, and even then you thought it was a joke until they kissed in front of you.”

“Speaking of that, why do you believe us, since you didn’t believe them?” Sweet Pea questions. “You’re a horrible liar, plus like we don’t care you’re dating each other, you both seem happy, well besides Chuck being a massive asshole.”

“Yeah, fair point.”

“So, how are we going to get back at him then?” Sweet Pea grins when Archie suggests it.

Support My Writing?

#reggie mantle #reggie mantle imagine #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea #riverdale imagine #riverdale #reggie mantle x sweet pea #sweet pea x reggie #reggie x sweet pea #sweet pea x reggie mantle #jordan connor imagine #jordan connor #charles melton #charles melton imagine #stattic

23 notes · View notes

angelathewitch · 4 years ago

Text

Okay I just finished the ACOTAR series for the first time and I have so many thoughts so I'm gonna write them down.

Also I have not looked at any fan theories or been a part of this fandom very much so all these headcannons are straight from the noggin:

Literally what the fuck is tamlin doing.

Okay getting this out of the way cause its a hot topic. Azriel is my baby I love him but

I would have mixed feelings about him being with both gwyn and Elaine. I love the idea of Elaine being azriels sunshine he deserves light in his life (also their scene in ACOSF had me ejdjbdksks) but also all three bat boys being with all 3 sisters rubs me the wrong way idk.

Gwyn is amazing because she's a badass bitch and if azriel doesn't snatch that up I will. I feel like azriel almost gets bulldozed over by the other bat boys (like he will do the dirty work only because he feels inferior) And I want gwyn to help him stand up for himself.

Gwyn is an adult jfc. I'd be more worried about her trauma.

I am totally a elucien shipper I'm SORRY lucien deserves the world

But at the same time I would totally understand if Elaine couldn't forgive him for his involvement in the cauldron business. That shit was wack. I just want this relationship to be the biggest, most "period drama esqe" slowburn.

I have very mixed feelings about lucien. On one hand lucien has never had a home and when tamlin took him in I can see how that loyalty blurred the lines of right and wrong. But at the same time lucien messed up MANY times where the archeon sisters are concerned.

Nesta deserved her kick in the ass because it was needed. She did not deserve everyone to be a little bitch to her. It felt like feyre was the only one who wanted her rehabbed for nestas sake. I definitely would have preferred Nesta to hit rock bottom and choose recovery for herself (cause alcoholism and things can only be truly solved through self help) Everyone else was uncharacteristically nonempathetic. Idk how Cassian could be okay with her treatment after they mated.

I'm still digesting Rhys and nestas relationship. I like that they don't like each other for most of ACOSF. Nestas reasons for treating feyre poorly are valid, but not excuses. The feyre, Nesta, and rhys relationship thing is weird cause I see all sides. I need more feyre and Nesta bonding they always get interrupted.

I HATE what SJM did to Mors character. What the fuck is up with mor not liking Nesta. Maybe we will get an explanation in the next book but I feel like mor was set up to be a great LGBT character with himbo allies but SJM just dropped her off a cliff. Big mad.

However I do want eris and mor to end up together. Not necessarily romantically, but I want them to have it out and I want eris to support mor. Kinda want them to be mates. Kinda want eris to be gay as well. Kinda want them to get married and them have consorts.

WHY does everyone treat feyre like a porcelain doll when the IC has more collective trauma than anyone else in this universe. Don't get me wrong I'm all about the hurt/comfort but it was so inconsistently written LOL. When the IC was telling their stories the first night they met and then feyre told hers I cackled like sorry but she is a baby

Rhys's trauma is just as recent as feyres... yeah he's a lot older and seasoned but oh my GOD he was consistently assaulted for 49 years. Feyre does very little to comfort him. Idk I feel like it was SO glossed over.

Like in ACOWAR feyre admits that amaranthas hatred wasn't personal it was general, unlike Tamlins hatred. But amarantha and rhys had multiple personal vendettas against each other. Like his amarantha is vaguely feyres tamlin. Rhys didn't even get to kill amarantha. His trauma is untapped. Rhys is the main character feyre is the love interest idc

Idk what yall say rhys is my baby my lovebug my everything. He's got his flaws but you can't love Nesta and hate him at the same time without being a lil hypocritical

But he's fucked in the head for thinking he was justified in drugging feyre every night for 2 months. Almost more mad about that than the SA (I dont really blame Rhys since it is not cannon to me. SJM just messed up 😌 it was so out of character) did he ever really apologize for that??

ALSO I know smj wanted to write like #consentking but half of what he allowed was so unnecessarily dangerous (like the first AND second weaver encounter- if my SO ran off in the middle of a battle to track down a mysterious creature when the task could have been done after the battle I would have be livid. Mor was justified in being mad.)

I'm so mad rhys didn't flatten tamlin during the high lord meeting. Either it will happen in the future or I will burn these books.

THE BAT BOYS HAVE CONNONICALLY BEEN IN THE SAME ROOM WHILE HAVING SEX. the foursomes in my head gets clearer by the day

I HATE the fact that rhys almost had an existential crisis over feyre being so young when she found her mate and not having "lived" and THEN GETS HER PREGNANT??? Are you kidding me. I'm so mad. I don't wanna deal with babies. I hate babies.

But I DO have a fun headcannon that since the bone carver is a death-god or whatever he KNEW nyx wouldn't survive and that is why he appeared as him. Also when the bone carver offered to take feyres first born in exchange for help rather than the oroboughs I think that was also foreshadowing. The only reason nyx survived was because of Nesta and the bone carver had trouble seeing the cauldron.

((Maybe nyx should have died during the birth idk))

Literally I would have enjoyed ACOSF if instead of the pregnancy feyre was busy looking for bryaxis. Literally what happened to him. Wtf

I know the plot armor is crazy thick around the IC but it would have been nice if one of them died. Well, not nice, but more believable. Maybe thats why nyx should have died. Lol I need therapy.

FREAKING HEADCANNON: the archeon sisters are partially fae. Their mom was definitely a descendant and that's why all three sisters have mates. It was hinted that the sisters had mated because they were powerful and cauldron made but Cassian and rhys could feel the pull before the sisters were turned.

Tarquin is the hottest high lord

The whole blood rite thing was stupid. I would have loved if it was spread out over a longer period of time but it was so unrealistic

You know we all love a good #girlboss🤢 moment but the whole valkarie thing seemed 1. Out of no where 2. Really quickly forced (ACOSF should have been like 2 books) 3. If emerie and mor get together life=complete

The inner circle and ther archeon sisters would not get along if they weren't mated to like 50% of the gang

They're too whiny

It's so weird that the mating bond can only be felt by guys??? Lol wut

Okay I know this is a complicated subject but having LGBTs in a universe with mates based in evolutionary advantage seems more homophobic than having a universe without LGBTs LOL. Like their connection can't be as deep cause they can't procreate?? I did like that SJM made up for it a little by saying not all mates are complementary souls.

Hybern was so powerful and for WHAT. I don't understand

Vassa, lucien, and jurian being a trio is so weird 😐

I WANT A NOVELLA ON THE STORY OF AMREN AND VARIAN. They are my otp. If anyone has made it this far and knows of some good amren and varian fanart pls let me know

Okay that is all for now thank you if you read down to here xoxo gossip girl.

P. S. Also I am starting throne of glass and am having a hard time getting into it. Can anyone vouch for this series please I'm conflicted.

Edit: omg I was zooted when I wrote this and didn't realize my phone autocorrected cassian to Caspian RIP

#acotar #acosf #acosf spoilers #elucien #gwynriel #azriel #pro nesta #a court of thorns and roses #a court of war and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury

29 notes · View notes

goldenraeofsun · 4 years ago

Text

life is just a classroom

A 6k addition to this verse with Teacher!Cas and Teacher!Dean

Jody has never seen her staff with their heads so far up their own asses. They get one reasonably attractive new hire, and everyone is acting more like gossiping, horny teenagers than sane, I-am-responsible-for-multiple-children, teachers. Luckily, Jody’s the principal and expert in wrangling children and adults of all maturity levels.

But this, as Bobby used to say, is too early for this shit.

It’s 7:00 am, and if Jody has to hear one more word about Castiel Novak and his brooding stare and baby blue eyes, she’s going to dump her coffee all over Daphne Allen’s head. It’s not like the Teachers Lounge hasn’t seen more than its fair share of spilled coffee. The brown-ish grey-ish carpet is more for utility than aesthetics, and is probably older than Jody herself.

“I’ve been trying to find out more about him, but he’s so reserved,” Daphne is saying. She sighs. “I’ve always been a sucker for the strong, silent types.”

Jody rolls her eyes and adds more sugar to her coffee.

“I think he mentioned he was actually a student here,” Kelly says, leaning in conspiratorially, “the same year as Dean.”

“No way,” Daphne breathes.

Jody dumps in more sugar.

“Has Dean mentioned anything about him? Is he single?”

For Christ’s sake. It’s the second day of school - Jody is very confident her teachers have better things to do than cross boundaries with new colleagues.

Daphne frowns. “No, he hasn’t. But Castiel definitely doesn’t wear a ring.”

Kelly rolls her eyes. “Would I even be talking about him if I thought he was married?”

Jody clears her throat, saying loudly, “Well, I’d better get back to work. Morning announcements will start soon.”

Both Kelly and Daphne jump guiltily.

Pleased, Jody strides out of the Teachers Lounge, nearly running into Donna. “Here,” she says, pressing the coffee into her hands. “I put too much sugar in it anyway.”

“Oh, hey, thanks Jody-o!” Donna beams.

Jody jerks her head towards Daphne and Kelly, heads ducked together and clearly already back to it. “Watch out for ‘em. They’ll get you sucked in gossiping about the new hire.”

“That Castiel?” Donna asks, her eyes lighting up. “He’s such an angel.”

“Not you too,” Jody grumbles as she stalks out. She has a school to run.

* * *

“Bonne journée, tout le monde.” Castiel waves his students out. “Etudiez bien pour le quiz la semaine prochaine! Si vous avez besoin d’aide, n'hésitez pas à venir me voir.”

Daphne lets the juniors stream past her, steels herself, and knocks on the door.

“Oui?” he asks without looking up.

Daphne swallows nervously. “Castiel?”

Castiel straightens, and holy hell, those eyes are so blue. “Hello,” he says, “I’m sorry, I thought you were a student.”

“No worries at all,” Daphne says with tittering laugh. “I was just wondering if you wanted to get a drink?”

“A drink?” Castiel echoes.

“To celebrate the end of the first week?” Daphne adds. “Kelly, Aaron, and I have a little tradition.”

“I see,” Castiel says, sounding taken aback. He fiddles with the strap of his bag before slinging it over his shoulder.

As the seconds drag on without a response, Daphne frowns. Is he going to refuse? Daphne had told Kelly this was a stupid plan -

“Can I bring Dean?” he asks.

Daphne blinks. “Dean? Yes, of course,” she says, mentally recalibrating her assessment of Edlund High's newest Latin/French teacher. He and Dean must be closer than she had assumed from their interactions in the Language Office. Maybe Castiel is less the stoically reserved type and more the shy, socially awkward wallflower. Her heart melts, so she adds, “the more the merrier.”

“Wonderful,” Castiel says, smiling. “What time?”

“We were thinking of leaving in like an hour,” Daphne says, “but you can also meet us there - Fizzle’s Folly? It’s on Water Street.”

Castiel raises his eyebrows at the name.

Daphne giggles. “Garth’s wife - have you met Garth? He teaches Chem - owns it. There’s a whole story there, but I can tell you later, if you like.”

Castiel smiles. “I’d like that, thank you.” He hefts his shoulder bag higher. “I grew up here, but it’s been a number of years since I spent a long time in this school district. I don’t remember a Fizzle’s Folly.”

“It used to be called Fenris,” Daphne says as they walk out.

Castiel’s brow furrows. “Wasn’t that a biker bar?”

“Yup, that’s the one,” Daphne says, nodding to Krissy Chambers and her friend Josephine as they pass by. “It underwent a little bit of a makeover when Garth and Bess took over.”

“So no bikers?”

“Not unless you count Garth,” Daphne says, grinning, as she pushes open the door to the Language Office. “He owns a motorcycle, if you can believe - oh, hey, Dean.”

Dean glances up from his desk at Daphne’s acknowledgement. “Hey,” he says slowly, his eyes flicking from Castiel to Daphne and back again. “What’s up?”

“Daphne invited me out for drinks,” Castiel says as Dean’s eyebrows rise, “Would you like to come?”

Dean’s mouth purses. “Wouldn’t want to be an imposition.”

“I already asked,” Castiel says as Daphne nods once.

And maybe in a week, once Daphne and Castiel know each other better, they can get drinks alone together. Or Kelly can get drinks alone with him. Daphne won’t fight Kelly for him, and Kelly won’t fight her. He’s not a piece of meat, as Kelly is all too fond of reminding if they go too far after too many margaritas.

After a beat, Dean says in a funny voice, “Okay then.”

Daphne walks around the both of them to get to her desk. “Aaron’s going to be there, if that matters,” she says without looking up.

“Aaron?” Castiel asks curiously.

“History teacher,” Dean says at the same time that Daphne provides, “Dean’s ex.”

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose as Castiel turns to him.

“Not an ex,” Dean grumbles. “We had a thing. Briefly. Years ago. It was before-” he coughs, “anyway.”

“I see,” Castiel deadpans.

Daphne frowns, meeting Castiel’s gaze over Dean’s head. “We are a LGBTQ friendly school,” she says sharply. “Dean runs the Gay-Straight-Alliance. If you have any… issues with that, I’d recommend talking to Jody before we leave.”

Dean looks oddly touched. “Thanks, Daph.”

Castiel just shakes his head. “I’m not homophobic. Dean can attest to that.”

“He had a boyfriend in high school,” Dean says with a grin.

Daphne’s face heats up embarrassingly quickly. “Ah - good for you.”

It’s not the end of the world. He could be bi, like Dean.

* * *

Aaron’s glad Dean and Castiel are here, if just to steer the conversation away from all the boy talk. He always has a good time with Kelly and Daphne, but, damn, they can really fixate. Lately, all they’ve been focusing on is Castiel, which, Aaron can kind of get behind - even though, obviously, Dean is more his type.

Thankfully they’ve cooled it with Castiel actually in the room with them.

Poor dude looks in over his head by the time they’re all sipping their second round of drinks. That’s probably why, when Aaron offers to get refills and snacks, Castiel jumps up to assist, quick on his heels.

Daphne and Kelly’s eyes follow Castiel’s ass to the bar. Sometimes they really are shameless.

“You doing okay?” Aaron asks after he’s flagged down the bartender.

“Oh yes,” Castiel says, bobbing his head in a nod. “It’s just… I don’t get out often.”

“I know they can be a bit much,” Aaron says, jerking his head back at their table. “If you want them to cool it with the questions, just say so.”

“I don’t mind.”

Aaron makes a face but doesn’t comment further. It’s Castiel’s funeral if he wants to keep playing into Kelly and Daphne’s hands like silly putty. Aaron warned the guy. He did his job to uphold bros before hos - even if Castiel is barely a bro and Aaron co-ran Kelly's campaign for City Council and let her cry into his shoulder when she lost, and he went to church with Daphne for a couple weeks because she knew her abusive ex-boyfriend was going to be there.

Mom practically had a heart attack when she heard about the Church thing through the grapevine, which stunned Aaron to no end because, of all his siblings, he was the only one who actually followed up on his threat to get kicked out of Hebrew school. Organized religion has never been his thing, anyway. Two Sundays with Kelly sandwiching Daphne in the pews wasn’t going to change that.

Moreover, it’s not like Aaron's never leaned on the girls for help. Daphne called her second-cousin, the cardiologist, to give a third-opinion on Dad's diagnosis. Kelly let Aaron sleep on her couch for a month because she lived across the street from the hospital. They listened to him whine about his unrequited thing for Dean Winchester when everything else in his life was going to hell. Speaking of-

“So you know Dean pretty well?” Aaron asks casually.

Castiel freezes.

“You keep staring at him,” Aaron says.

“I -”

“Relax,” Aaron says as he leans back against the bar. “Been there.”

Castiel purses his lips. “Daphne did mention you were… involved.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it,” Aaron says, since Daphne could’ve been a lot more damning in her assessment. “We slept together a couple of times. I was feeling it - he wasn’t - and that was the end of that.”

“Oh,” Castiel says, looking relieved. He glances at Aaron out of the corner of his eye. “And do you still… like him?”

Aaron snorts. “I mean, we’re not in middle school. It’s a little more complicated.”

Castiel’s brows draw together in a forbidding frown.

“I was just gonna say,” Aaron supplies quickly, “do I still think he’s hot? Yes, I have eyes. Do I want to marry him and push my mother over the edge by marrying a guy and a goy? Not anymore.”

Castiel settles back down, and Aaron makes a mental note not to piss him off anytime soon. “A word of advice?” he says as he turns back around to grab their drinks, “Don’t insult his car - or Led Zeppelin - or his brother.”

Surprised, Castiel takes a moment before laughing. “Or pie.”

“No quicker way to get your name on Dean Winchester’s shit list,” Aaron agrees. He surveys Castiel again. “So you know him pretty well already?”

Castiel shrugs. “We went to high school together.”

“Kelly mentioned,” Aaron says. “What was he like?”

“Dean?”

“No, Gary Busey,” Aaron says, rolling his eyes, “of course Dean.”

Castiel doesn’t say anything for a long moment. “Very similar to how he is now,” he says, which doesn’t tell Aaron much. “Charming. Caring. Intelligent in the strangest of ways.” Castiel pauses. “Handsome.”

“Yeah, that does sound like him,” Aaron agrees. He’s been on the receiving end of Dean’s charm offensive once or twice. It’s always left his head spinning.

Interrupting his train of thought, “Hey!” Dean calls shamelessly across the bar. “What are you two alte kakers up to?”

Aaron waves him off, unable to hide his smile at Dean’s casual Yiddish. He only picked up two or three words from Aaron, back when Aaron dove head-first into his ill-advised thing with Dean so he didn’t have to think about all the other shit going on in his life. “Here, grab the sides will you?” Aaron asks Castiel. “I think we’ve left Dean alone with them for long enough.”

Castiel dutifully picks up the mozzarella sticks and fries as Aaron double-checks his tray of glasses won’t topple over.

“Watch who you’re calling old men,” Aaron tells Dean as he sets the drinks down at their table.

“You were just gabbing up there,” Dean protests, reaching for his beer, “leaving these two lovely ladies with only little old me for company.”

Castiel snorts as Daphne rolls her eyes above the rim of her drink.

“Then you should’ve gone with yentas ,” Aaron says as he sits down.

“Like Barbra Streisand?” Dean eyes them both up and down. “Can’t say I see the resemblance.”

Aaron runs a hand down his face. “How do you know Barbra Streisand and not what yenta means?”

“Sammy made me watch it,” Dean says into his beer.

Aaron laughs. “Sure.”

“Hey, Castiel,” Daphne interrupts, “Dean was telling us the funniest story about you from way back-”

Castiel shoots Aaron a desperate look, but Aaron just grabs a mozzarella stick and settles in. Let the girls have their fun.

* * *

“So, Castiel, are you seeing anyone?” Kelly asks after finishing her third whiskey sour. Nine months of sobriety/pregnancy had shot her tolerance to nothing. And, sure, Jack is almost four now, but Kelly still has a hard time knowing when to call it quits.

Whatever. She doesn’t regret the question. It’s been plaguing her and Daphne - and by extension Aaron because he had to listen to them - for a whole goddamn week.

Daphne’s eyes go wide.

Off to the side, Aaron slaps his hand to his forehead.

Dean turns to Castiel, his gaze piercing.

Castiel goes bright red. It’s a good color on him. Brings out the blue in his eyes. “I - well, that is to say - I am not - it’s complicated?” he fumbles.

Dean snorts as he picks up his beer to take a long pull.

Kelly frowns. “It’s complicated?” she repeats, disappointed. “How?”

“I am not comfortable discussing my personal life with colleagues,” Castiel says stiltedly.

Dean thumps him on the back. “Good move,” he says, “these three are the worst gossips in the school.”

“Hey!” Kelly protests automatically although Dean is, unfortunately, right. But it’s not her fault everyone else on staff at Edlund High doesn’t know how to have a good time.

Daphne knocks back her cosmo murderously.

Aaron shrugs.

“It’s not a bad thing,” Dean adds, “definitely has its uses. Just something for the newbie to know, right, Cas?”

“Of course,” Castiel says, sounding like he doesn’t know what exactly he’s agreeing to.

What a cutie. Kelly grins as she leans in over the table. “You want to know which students are the worst?”

Dean frowns. “Come on, there’s no need to dunk on minors.”

“Who’s dunking?” Kelly asks innocently. “I was going to warn him about Max Banes.”

“Oh, yeah, you should know about him, Cas,” Dean says with a laugh. “Kid’s a horndog. Gives my libido a run for my money.”

Castiel blinks. “Does he… pursue teachers?”

Daphne pats his hand. “Not yet. These three think it’s only a matter of time.”

“Oh,” Cas says, “That was very frowned upon at Carver Preparatory.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “It’s frowned on here too, asshole. If he makes any… advances, just let Jody know. She and Donna - the guidance counselor - can handle it.”

“If I was going to put my psych degree to good use,” Daphne adds, “I would read into his lack of father figure. Their mom’s great, but Max doesn’t have a lot of male role models in his life.”

Kelly scowls.

Dean huffs into his beer. “Single parents have it rough, though.”

“Of course they do,” Daphne says with a significant look at Kelly. “Nobody’s saying they don’t.”

“I was raised by a single dad,” Dean protests, “and he raised me and my brother right.” He holds up a hand, and Castiel snaps his mouth shut before Kelly had even noticed it opening in the first place. “Don’t you start. I know you have thoughts about Dad, but that’s a conversation for another day.”

Kelly eyes them both curiously, but before she can ask, Aaron interrupts, “Did you guys hear about Krissy and Aidan? I think they are finally going to-”

“No way!” Daphne says, shaking her head. “She’s clueless. And he’s inept. The worst combination.”

“I believe in them,” Kelly announces. “What’d you hear, Aaron?”

As Aaron launches into the latest installment of their favorite will-they won’t-they senior couple, Kelly can finally appreciate the lazy smile Castiel wears as he settles in to listen. Maybe Aaron was right, and she and Daphne came on a little strong.

Whatever. No regrets. She wouldn’t trade that valuable intel from Castiel for anything.

* * *

That was Kelly’s last night out for a solid month. Every other weekend, her usual babysitter called in sick or said she was busy. And usually Kelly would be happy to spend more time with her son, but come on. A month with no breaks?

Christ, she’s such a bad mom.

Times like this don’t help.

“Jack?” Kelly calls, spinning around in the department store. Panic races through her veins. “Jack!”

She had turned her back for one minute to grab a set of towels from the highest shelf, and by the time she turned around, Jack was gone. She scans the surrounding racks of linens, her eyes peeled for any sign of Jack’s Spider-Man shirt. Heart beating erratically, she pushes her shopping cart back towards the bedding aisle - Jack had been enamored with a set of hideous, bright orange sheets, and Kelly had only gotten him away by bribing him with a piece of nougat.

“Jack!” she shouts again, going a bit red in the face as people turn to stare.

“Kelly?”

Shit. How could she miss Dean Winchester standing right in front of her?

“Dean!” Kelly greets, pasting on a fake smile as she cranes her neck around to scan the aisles behind him. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“It was recently brought to my attention I needed a bathmat,” Dean grumbles, “and a shower curtain that doesn’t have the Scooby Gang on it.”

Kelly laughs, a tad hysterically. “Probably. I - well, nice running into you. I need to go - my son’s wandered off, and I need to find him because I am not a terrible mother.”

But instead of standing to the side, Dean adopts a pained expression. “He’s four, right?”

Kelly blinks. “Yes.”

Dean jerks his head for Kelly to follow. “I think I know where he is,” Dean says griml

Bemused, Kelly pushes her cart after Dean, back to the display beds. Her eyes zero in on the orange eye-sore, currently occupied by a jumping toddler. A dark-haired man perches on one edge with his back to them, apparently trying to communicate with Kelly’s wayward son.

She all but sprints forward, nearly bumping her shopping cart into several bed frames. “Jack!” she says loudly, and Jack stops at once.

“Mama!” he calls back delightedly.

“What are you doing?”

“Jumping.”

Kelly resists the urge to facepalm. “What did I tell you about wandering off? Or talking to stran-” She backtracks, finally focusing on the man. “Oh, hi, Castiel.”

“Hello, Kelly,” Castiel says, his deep voice sending a frisson down her spine like it always does.

“You know Mama?” Jack asks, looking from Kelly to Castiel and back again.

“We work together,” Castiel explains.

“This is Castiel,” Kelly introduces, and Jack wastes no time in chirping out, “Nice to meet you Castiel!’

Castiel sticks out his hand like he’s greeting the President instead of Kelly’s four-year-old son. “You as well, Jack.”

“What’re you doing here?” Kelly asks as Jack gives Castiel’s hand a theatrical shake.

Castiel’s brow furrows. “Purchasing home goods?” He gets to his feet. “I was searching for a suitable bathmat when I found Jack.”

“A bathmat,” Kelly echoes, whirling in place to see a red-faced Dean a few paces away, apparently enthralled by a set of outrageously mundane pillows.

“Yes?” Castiel confirms, following her gaze and blushing furiously. “Ah, hello, Dean. I - I didn’t see you there?”

Dean throws his hands in the air, giving up on all pretenses. “You’re impossible,” he says to Castiel.

“You’re buying a bathmat together?” Kelly asks, confused.

“Dean doesn’t have one,” Castiel says promptly.

“I didn’t need one until-” Dean closes his mouth with a snap.

Kelly stares at the pair of them. “Do you two live together?” she demands.

Castiel opens his mouth, but no words come out.

Kelly turns to Dean, who is rapidly scanning for the exits.

“Are you the ‘it’s complicated’?” she asks curiously, only looking away as Jack pats her knee determinedly, his face hopeful.

“Up?” he asks.

Kelly sighs and hefts him into her arms. “You’re getting too big for this.”

“Am not,” Jack mumbles into her shoulder.

Kelly presses a kiss to his forehead and turns back to Castiel and Dean, who look more like two students caught passing notes than fully grown men. “Well?”

Dean shares a loaded glance with Castiel, and Kelly has no idea how she missed the whole couple thing. Eventually, he says, “After two f-” he glances at Jack, “-friggin’ years, he finally got sick of cold feet in my bathroom.”

“Two years,” Kelly gapes.

Castiel sighs. “Three.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t start sleeping over at-”

“Dean,” Castiel interrupts in a growl.

Dean rubs the back of his neck. He coughs. “Anyway,” he says, “Yes, we’re dating. No, it’s not really that complicated. Cas just doesn’t like to talk about it at work.”

“Hm,” Kelly says neutrally.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t spread it around,” Castiel says as Dean snorts derisively.

“Hey,” Kelly says, defensive, “I can do that.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “You can?”

“Sure, if you ask, Jesus,” Kelly says, rolling her eyes. “I’m not a monster.”

“Thank you,” Castiel says gratefully.

Kelly grins. “But if I can’t spread it around, Daphne’s still going to go after him like he’s a prize heifer at a state fair.”

Castiel squints at her, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “She was pursuing me?”

Dean guffaws. “Don’t ever change, man.” He claps him on the back while turning back to Kelly. “We can handle Daphne. Don’t worry.”

“Whatever, boys,” Kelly says as she pushes her cart back towards the linens, “it’s your funeral.” She hefts Jack higher in her arms. “Say goodbye to Dean and Castiel, Jack.” As Jack waves goodbye, she calls, “See you Monday!”

Sure, she’s a little disappointed Castiel is clearly off the dating market. But, bonus, she has blackmail material on not one, but two Edlund faculty members, and possibly a pinch-hitter babysitter waiting to happen. Not bad for a shopping trip with a four-year-old in tow.

* * *

Donna’s surprise party at Fizzle’s Folly is well underway by the time Aaron extricates himself from a lively discussion with his Head of Department and Rowena MacLeod, Edlund's chemistry teacher. Aaron will never, ever miss an opportunity to talk to a drunk Eleanor Visyak, and Rowena turned out to be surprisingly knowledgeable about 17th century English politics.

Still, he’s taken all the history talk he can stand, especially after teaching it for four hours to a bunch of high schoolers with varying degrees of interest.

He finds Daphne in one of the far booths, tucked away with Castiel and Dean, surprise, surprise. After snagging another beer at the bar, he slides in next to Daphne. “What’s up?” he asks the three of them.

“Hey,” Dean greets with a toast of his glass.

“Hello, Aaron.”

“Budge up, you’re taking like three quarters of the seat,” Daphne complains.

“Daph was just telling us about her plans to do a joint project between GSA and the Amnesty International club,” Dean says. “Cas says he’ll come to GSA next week.”

“Yeah?” Aaron asks as Castiel nods in confirmation. “That’s great! I’d go check it out, but the Debate club meets at the same time.”

Castiel frowns. “Maybe I should run a club? Daphne has Amnesty International, Dean runs GSA, and you have Debate.”

“You can always ask Jody about forming a new one in January,” Aaron says. “Honestly, the hardest part’ll be finding a time to meet. Don’t go for afterschool Thursdays, or Benny will kick your ass.”

“Why?”

“He has his cooking club,” Dean says with a grin. “And, like, half the student body goes. I sometimes go and help out too, if he needs extra hands.”

“You’ll go if he’s making pie,” Aaron corrects.

“It’s for the kids!” Dean protests over Castiel’s chuckles. “Benny’s got a lot of skills, but he has a lot to learn when it comes to pie. The kids need to know how to make a good pie.”

“If only to feed you later,” Aaron mutters.

“You’ll also want to avoid Tuesdays afterschool,” Daphne tells Castiel. “Jo’s self-defense club meets then, and it’s also got a large following.”

“Yeah, all the girls who wanna be like Jo sign up, and all the boys who want to see Jo all sweaty show up with semis,” Dean says with a shudder of revulsion.

Aaron kicks him under the table. “That’s sexist. How are you forgetting all the lesbians?”

“Ah, yes, can’t forget the lesbians,” Dean agrees sagely.

“Does this school have Model UN?” Castiel asks. “I was looking to set up a chapter at Carver before I switched positions.”

“No, we don’t,” Daphne says eagerly. “That’s an excellent idea.”

Dean drains the dregs of his beer. “I’m gonna get another, Cas? Daph? A-Game?”

Aaron rolls his eyes at the nickname. “I’m good,” he says, holding up his three-quarters full glass.

“Another cosmo, please?” Daphne asks.

“Sure.” Dean salutes.

“I’ll go with you,” Castiel says as Daphne’s face falls. “I need to stretch my legs.”

They leave, heads already bent together to hear each other over the dull roar of the party. “They seem close,” Aaron says, jerking his head.

Daphne sighs. “Yeah, they do,” she says morosely. She twirls her empty glass between her fingers. “Kelly’s given up on him. I think you might be right - he definitely has a thing for Dean.”

Aaron sips his beer. “I don’t blame him.”

“Of course you don’t,” Daphne says with a small grin, lightly kicking him under the table.

Before Aaron can think of anything else to say, Kelly appears over Daphne’s shoulder, her face flushed as it always gets when she drinks too much red wine. She slides into the side of the booth vacated by Dean and Castiel. “Some party, right? Did you see Garth doing shots?”

“No,” Daphne says, nose wrinkling. “And I don’t want to. I’ll stay here, out of the splash zone, thanks.”

Kelly giggles. “Why d’you think I’m over here instead of egging him on like Jo and Charlie.”

By the time Aaron finishes off the rest of his beer, Daphne’s still one cosmo short, and it’s been at least twenty minutes since he saw Dean and Castiel.

“Hey, I’ll go check up on that drink you’re waiting for,” Aaron says, getting to his feet.

“You sure?” Daphne asks, blinking hazily up at him. And okay, it’s probably good she had a breather between rounds.

“Yeah,” Aaron says, jerking his head towards the bar. “I need to piss anyway.”

“Gross,” Daphne says, nose wrinkling.

Kelly giggles, “If you think a little pee is gross, you don’t want to hear what Jack got up to with-”

Daphne actually places both hands over her ears and goes, “Na, na, na.”

Aaron leaves the pair of them laughing, with Kelly trying to pry Daphne’s hands away and Daphne getting louder with each tug.

He makes his way through the thinning crowd, waving to Eleanor when he spots her getting ready to leave and nodding to Charlie as she adjusts the empty shot glasses in front of her, Jo, and an impossibly red-faced Garth.

Aaron slides between the thinning crowd to duck out into the hallway leading to the bathrooms. As he gets closer to the men’s room, he slows. There are sounds coming from behind the door. Not like the pained bathroom sounds like Great Aunt Rachel gets after too much dairy. Porn sounds.

Aaron, torn between finding out who’s getting down and dirty at Donna’s surprise party, and getting Kelly and Daphne so they can witness the big reveal with him, is still rooted to the spot as the door bursts open and Castiel and Dean stumble out.

Cas’s hair is a bird’s nest of bedhead that would probably drop Daphne’s panties in a heartbeat. Dean’s cheeks are flushed, and Aaron definitely recognizes his immediate post-orgasm face.

“Fuck,” Dean swears as he finds his footing. He stares at Aaron, and Aaron stares right back.

“Aaron,” Castiel says breathlessly, temporarily drawing his attention. “You’re… here.”

“I had to pee,” Aaron says lamely.

“Oh, well, it’s all yours then,” Dean says, blushing to the roots of his hair as he gestures to the now available men’s room.

“Fuck no.” Aaron automatically recoils. There’s no way he’s touching any surface in that bathroom until it’s been scrubbed and bleached. He has some goddamn standards. He’d rather pee in the alley out back.

They linger awkwardly until Aaron speaks. He eyes the pair of them, his gaze ping-ponging back and forth. “So… you two are finally together?”

“Finally?” Dean echoes.

“Uh yeah,” Aaron says, confused. “Castiel clearly has a huge thing for you. Not to spill the beans or anything.”

A beat.

Dean cracks up.

Aaron, almost offended on Castiel’s behalf, opens his mouth as he catches sight of Castiel’s face, lips pressed tight together like he’s trying not to laugh. “You knew?”

Castiel slowly shakes his head as Dean leans on him for support, gasping for air. “Oh my god, Cas, that’s fucking embarrassing. D’you have a crush on me?”

“Shut up, Dean,” Castiel grumbles, shoving him off. To Aaron he says, “We’ve been dating for three years. He’s known about my feelings for a while now.”

“Oh,” Aaron says, drawing the syllable out as Dean composes himself.

“Jesus Christ,” Dean says, wiping at his eyes, “I thought I was going to give it all away, but turns out you’re just as obvious as you were in high school.”

Castiel sighs. “We were trying to not spread our relationship around.”

“Cas wanted to get settled in before people started saying he was my trophy husband,” Dean says with a wink.

Horror seizes Aaron. “You’re not married, are you?” he blurts. He glances down at their hands - no rings - and he would never forgive himself for missing something that obvious.

“No,” Castiel shakes his head, “we are only dating for now.”

“Not yet.”

Castiel turns to Dean in surprise, and Aaron really doesn’t need to be here for that conversation. “Oh-kay,” he says, sidling around them, “I still gotta,” he jerks his head towards the men’s room.

“Right!” Dean says, grinning. “We should get back to the party. Say hi to Donna.”

Aaron makes his exit, sighing in relief as the door closes behind him. He should be fine if he doesn’t touch anything. Or look at any shiny surfaces too closely. Once upon a time, he lived with a dozen Alpha Epsilon Pi brothers. He can do this.

* * *

Daphne has had it up to here with her juniors. Yes, Homecoming is this weekend. No, their essays aren’t due until next week, but that doesn’t excuse their behavior this Friday afternoon. Nobody wants to be in class at a quarter to three. High school juniors don’t. Daphne sure as hell doesn’t. They can’t cut her a little slack?

When the bell finally rings, Daphne sighs in relief. She dismisses her class with a terse, “Aufiderzein.”

She gathers her files together, grumbling to herself about stupid staff meetings on Friday. It’s like Jody wants them to surreptitiously play games on their phones and text each other when she’s looking the other way or yelling at Rowena for blowing up the Chemistry Lab again.

At least Benny always brings snacks from Thursday’s Cooking Club.

Daphne glances at her watch. Jody gives them a half-hour to get their affairs in order, but Daphne doesn’t mind staking out her seat in the Teachers Lounge early. She can save spots for Kelly and Aaron and stake out the precious few non-wobbly chairs.

She stops by the Language Office, pleasantly surprised to find it empty. No Dean, Kelly, or Castiel in sight. Daphne quickly gathers her freshmen pop quizzes to grade this weekend and her copy of Die Verwandlung.

She rounds the final corner before the Teachers Lounge and stops dead. Because Aaron and Kelly are hovering outside the door and spying through the slim glass pane. Without her.

“What’s going on?” Daphne asks curiously.

“Ah!” Kelly whirls around, clutching her heart.

“Daphne!” Aaron says loudly. “What’re you doing here?”

“Saving us a seat for the meeting?” Daphne says, crossing her arms over her chest. “Like I do every month?”

Aaron and Kelly share a loaded look. Aaron is the first one to speak, “I think we’re good this time.”

“Why?” Daphne asks, stepping closer. She frowns as Kelly and Aaron automatically stand shoulder-to-shoulder, blocking her view of the narrow window.

“Students are in there,” Aaron blurts.

“Puking,” Kelly adds.

Daphne doesn’t believe them for a second. “And you’re just standing there watching it happen?”

“Schadenfreude?” Aaron tries. “It’s the mean ones. You know. The kids we don't like.”

Daphne rolls her eyes, pushing them aside and standing on her tiptoes to see.

“We tried,” Aaron grumbles to her right.

“They can’t fault us for that,” Kelly says to her left.

At first, it looks like the Teachers Lounge is empty. Most seats are unoccupied, and nobody’s loitering by the coffee machine. One of the tables is strewn with three mostly-empty mini pie tins. Cherry, by the color. Movement catches her eye, and, woah how did she miss that?

“No way,” she breathes, glancing at Aaron and Kelly for confirmation.

Aaron scuffing his shoes against the floor, nods sheepishly.

“They made me promise not to tell,” Kelly says ruefully, lips pursing.

“Dean and Castiel?” Daphne gasps, squinting to better see Edlund High’s newest hire and favorite English teacher (no offense, Kelly) getting at it on the lumpy couch in the back that no one sat on because of this very reason.

She rounds on them. “You knew?” she hisses.

Kelly huffs an impatient sigh, blowing a few brown strands of hair out of her face. “I ran into them shopping together a few weeks ago.”

Aaron grimaces. “I nearly walked in on them having sex in the bathroom at Donna’s surprise party last weekend.”

Daphne blinks at the pair of them, hurt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kelly opens her mouth but no words come out.

“This is the first guy since Mark you showed an interest in,” Aaron rushes to say.

“We didn’t want to ruin it,” Kelly says.

Daphne’s eyes narrow. “And you didn’t think the fact that he’s clearly taken would ruin it?”

“I don’t know,” Kelly says, throwing her hands in the hair. “Sue us, we liked seeing you happy for however long it lasted!”

Daphne softens.

“We thought,” Aaron says, glancing at Kelly for support, “You were getting over Castiel, anyway.”

A small, petty part of Daphne is tempted to deny it as punishment for keeping this from her. But mostly she’s relieved. “Yeah, mostly,” she mutters.

“So… we good?” Aaron tries.

Kelly loops her arm around her in a one-armed hug. “Of course we are.”

Daphne rolls her eyes. “Of course,” she echoes as Aaron pats her on the back, a wide grin spreading over his face. And, yeah, this is why she has the two best friends on Earth.

“What are you three up to?”

The smile slides off Kelly’s face. “Jody!” she says, spinning around to meet their Principal, holding a paper cup of coffee, and trailed by what looks like half the Edlund High teachers.

Oh shit.

Aaron not-so-accidentally knocks his elbow, loudly, into the door as he turns to face Jody et al. “We didn’t see you there,” he says conversationally.

“Hm,” Jody hums as she reaches past them for the doorknob. “Meeting’s going to start in ten.”

“Can we make it fifteen?” Aaron asks desperately, shuffling to the side so he better blocks the way in.

Jody shakes her head, throwing him a bemused look. “I’m pretty sure everyone wants this started with and over as soon as possible.”

“If you need to urinate, Bass, do it now,” Rowena sniffs.

“I don’t-” Aaron starts, breaking off as Jody finally opens the door.

She stops dead in her tracks.

“Jody!” Dean’s voice carries through the doorway, uncharacteristically high. “’S it time for the meeting already?”

Jo elbows her way to the front. “Goddammit,” she says, sounding completely unsurprised as she stands next to Jody. “Really, guys?”

The rest of the staff curiously filter in.

Behind Daphne, Benny surreptitiously slides Charlie a few bills, muttering, “I told them this was stupid.”

Charlie laughs. “But you still thought they’d last until Homecoming.”

“What can I say,” Benny says, shrugging, “I’m an optimist. And I was so close.”

Daphne meets Charlie’s eyes, asking in a low voice, “Did everyone know?”

Charlie see-saws her hand back and forth as they take their seats. “About half,” she says, glancing behind them to where Dean and Castiel are attempting to make themselves presentable. “Turns out, they’re really bad at keeping the whole ‘Destiel’ thing under wraps. It’s adorable they thought they could try.”

Daphne looks too, and there’s no mistaking what Dean and Castiel were doing. Their lips are swollen from kissing, and, weirdly, Castiel’s tie faces the right way. Daphne snorts. Probably because he didn’t tie it himself, for once.

Jody clears her throat. “Alright, settle down, guys,” she says with a sharp glare in Dean and Castiel’s direction. “As you all know, Homecoming is next weekend-”

* * *

Jody pinches the bridge of her nose. “Okay, that’s all that was on my agenda for today’s meeting-” she waits for the cheers to die down “but, Dean and Castiel, can you stay for a sec?”

Castiel visibly swallows.

Dean scowls.

Jody waits for the rest of the staff to leave.

Nobody moves a muscle.

“Jesus Christ,” Jody swears under her breath. She’s managing children. Horrible, gossipy children. “Okay, I guess everyone could use a refresher.” She clears her throat. “PDA is strictly discouraged among faculty. It’s in the goddamn handbook, people.”

“Really, Jody?” Dean complains.

“I’m not saying you can’t be in a relationship,” Jody says with a sharp look. “Just don’t… advertise it.”

“You got something against two dudes making out?” Dean demands, half-getting up from his seat.

“Of course not, you ass,” Jody says in a long-suffering voice, “I do have something against teenagers making out in every hallway and empty classroom, which they will if they see their two favorite teachers doing it.” She shakes her head. “If you want to hold hands or take an ad out in the school paper, be my guest.”

“Ah, yes, of course,” Castiel says hesitantly, wasting no time in reaching for Dean’s hand.

“Plus,” Jody says loftily, “I’ve been dating Donna for six months, and you don’t see me dragging her into supply closets, do you?” And into the stunned silence, Jody stands up to leave.

There are various cries of, “Donna?”

Donna throws her hands in the air as Kelly, Daphne, and Aaron converge on her like piranhas tasting blood in the water. “Jeez Louise,” Donna grumbles, “a little warning wouldn’t kill ya, would it Jody-o?”

“Probaby,” Jody says, giving them all a jaunty salute. “Enjoy your weekends, everyone!”

#destiel fanfic #destiel #fanfic #teacher dean #teacher castiel #human au #teachers au #jody mills #outsider pov #the story of us verse #rae writes fic #profoundnet #secret relationship #but like the worst kept secret #so does it even really count #kelly kline #aaron bass #daphne allen

51 notes · View notes