#this is SO fucking long and still not really a coherent position statement lmao

[aeide-thea]

thinking abt like. there's so much fiction out there that makes me feel bad! sometimes really deeply bad! and like, in many many cases i could present a whole argument abt how it makes me feel bad bc it's pressing on bruises inflicted by some systemic prejudice that has deeply wounded my psyche—and that argument would be true!—and still i don't want that fiction erased from existence, or modified to suit my taste, or anything else that enacts my will on it, rather than the artist's and the artist's alone; i don't even want the artist erasing it because my argument ultimately convinces them it's Bad! produce a revised edition of it, fine; stick an asterisk or other warning on it, fine; but i still want the original to be available somewhere, because i don't want to be responsible for blotting creation out of existence. even when it's a creation i hate, i don't think that should be my place (or indeed anyone's).

mind you, i absolutely do want to feel that i've got somewhere i can analyze/vent about fiction like that, and people who will take my analysis/venting both seriously and sympathetically;

and i want fiction to exist that doesn't make me feel bad;

and i definitely shouldn't have to put up with discussions around fiction in which fellow discussants further express a prejudice towards me, or justify it, or whatever;

but it just seems so obvious to me that a world where framing yr discomfort with a work of fiction in sufficiently sympathetic (victimized) terms leads to its deletion [not that i think this is what all leftists who complain abt offensive fiction are looking to have happen! but i do get the impression that at least some of them might be?] is a frightening world—

a world where, to choose a sufficiently sympathetic (victimized) example, authors who have themselves been harmed by prejudice become unable to explore the workings of that prejudice in their fiction, unless they're doing it in a way that's unambiguously, didactically condemnatory—isabel fall is the obvious example here, but i'm thinking also of all the women and transmasc authors who write fic that, quite frankly, eroticizes misogyny and abuse of power, and how sometimes i think stories like that are hot and sometimes i don't feel particularly strongly about them one way or the other and sometimes they leave me furious or fucked up or both! but like. even when i hate it, even when it offends me not as a matter of abstract principle or allyship but right in my own personal gut—i still do feel that people have to be allowed to write, and to publish, fiction that strikes me personally as being in bad taste!

because the minute you let anyone's taste dictate what's allowable to express, even if it's leftist taste, you're going down a bad road; it's like saying monarchy can be a good system as long as the monarch is a good person. no! because (a) no system that relies on good actors to be good is a good system; and also because (b) no one who's happy to have power over others is actually a good person! [that's an awfully strong statement and i'm open to the idea that it may have some asterisks, but like. as a general rule: cincinnatus or bust.]

and similarly i feel like. if you personally want not just to critique other people's fiction—valid and good and i do it all the time—but to crush it out of existence because it expresses an ideology you may not (i may not!) like? i don't trust you. i think you're trying to substitute pain for principles, and like. i have huge sympathy for pain! i live with a lot of my own! but pain doesn't actually, in itself, necessarily constitute good moral guidance—it can lead you towards valuable sensitivity that helps people we should care about, but it can also lead you towards impatient reactivity that harms people we should care about; and ultimately it's thinking abt our pain, imo, not the pain itself, that steers us towards the former outcome and away from the latter.

[zevexsii]

Hello! I saw your post on petals and decided to come by and drop a ask! Any chance you could do sfw and nsfw hcs about Emma x tall fem hunter! (Based on and looks like japanese folk lore Hachishaku-sama) with gentledom and praise kink in the nsfw part? Sorry if this is a weird ask!

thank you so much! don’t worry, it takes a lot to weird me out lmao

emma woods with a hachishaku-esque hunter gf (sfw + nsfw hcs)

SFW

*well, mark me down as scared and horny intensifies*

emma is one of the more peaceful survivors; she’s more intimidated by your arrival than intrigued. at first. 

your hunter abilities are downright terrifying- who wouldn’t be a little scared! you have earned her respect with your proficiency at the game, though.

she writes her interest in you outside of games off as mere curiosity- you’re a supernatural being, after all! 

still, she’s captivated by your kind behavior outside of matches, compared to your fierce pursuit of survivors during matches.

you bond in the gardens; emma isn’t hard to befriend and the more you know about gardening, the more instantly pleased she is.

emma has slower auditory processing, especially when she’s busy with something she’s passionate about. you might have to call her name a few times, but she’ll look up with dirt smeared on her cheek and the biggest, brightest smile known to man.

wipe the dirt off her face or straighten her hat and her face reddens to a concerning point- ask if her if she’s feeling alright and she’ll combust on the spot. pretty supernatural lady?? asking her if she’s alright??? *gay panic*

eventually, emma brings up the way your mere presence gives her butterflies and how your smile makes her day to vera and the other female survivors in the manor- they inform her that this is, in fact, a crush.

Oh Fuck???

it becomes more and more obvious that emma has a soft spot for you; she memorizes your favorite flower and makes a point to grow a section just for you! maybe someday she’ll gather the courage to ask you out to the flower bed after dinner. someday. 

her pining is noticeable! so, there are two ways you can go about this; emma is one of the people who you can just sort of, “slip” into a relationship with- keep being tender and you’ll get closer and closer. everything feels good and soft and right. this isn’t to say that you two won’t discuss important things! emma is very easy to communicate with.

the other way to go about this would just be to confess; it’s easy and light. emma is terrified that you might reject her, but you haven’t rejected any of her affections, right?

after the confession, things don’t change too much. emma is still affectionate through gifts of beautiful flowers, or planting herbs and spices that you like! she’s very observant and an incredibly quick learner when she’s interested in something.

not incredibly interested in pda; she’s got so many other things to think about!! emma’s got a very bubbly personality all around. when she thinks about it, though, she’ll loop her arm through yours or clutch your comparatively enormous hand in her tiny one. she’s also obsessed with the size gap. let her sit on your shoulders and she swears she’ll love you forever. 

like she won’t already

really enjoys forehead kisses. soft, innocent affection that she can think about all day makes emma positively melt. cup her face in your hands and she’ll nuzzle your palm.

definitely the little spoon. she doesn’t have the words to describe how safe and at home she feels when you curl up behind her or let her lay on your chest, her head buried in the crook of your neck. scratch her back or gently run your fingers through her hair and she’ll be asleep in an instant.

it’ll come as no surprise that emma is highly inclined to flower-oriented nicknames. her favorites are sunflower and gardenia- she loves you more than any flower she’s ever grown and she intends to make you aware of that every opportunity she gets.

NSFW

emma woods is another capital b Bottom. pretty vanilla, too. 

she’s not very focused on sex in general; she’s pretty new to relationships of this nature.

that being said, emma’s naturally curious about a lot of things; she may be a bottom and more of a pillow princess if truth be told, but she’s eager to please either way. if there’s a certain position you’d like to try or a certain toy you’d like to use, she’s up for it.

emma would want to set up a safeword, just in case. nothing too elaborate.

lives to be praised. tell her how good and wet she is for you in a low murmur as you curl your fingers inside of her; the sight of the gentle smirk that spreads across your face is enough to make her whimper.

her entire body shivers slightly when you lay soft, sweet kisses on the side of her neck and up her jawline. she’ll grip the bedsheets and whine about how badly she needs you, scratching your exposed back with her nails. 

if you decide to use a strap-on, you’ll need to be extremely gentle the first time. go down on her- it won’t be hard to continue after you hear how incredibly loud she is. leave hickeys on her thighs when you go down to prep her, the sight drives her wild after the act is done.

lace your fingers together when you push the material inside of her- emma’s breath will catch in her throat, all of the things she wanted to say burned away by the uncontrollable wave of pleasure rolling over her. 

as soon as she can form a coherent thought, her first words are something along the lines of “please, (y/n)-”. emma begs quite frequently; not because she thinks you get off on it, just because every statement she would’ve kept quietly to herself is forced out to the rhythm of your hips against slamming against hers as she cries out for more.

very easy to overstimulate. emma loves it too- not long and you’ll have her nearly screaming at the gentle pressure of your tongue to her clit. if you tell her to pull your hair, or tug on it ever so slightly, she’ll be nervous. this is about love, right? why would she want to hurt you?

reassure her that it’s pleasurable to you and get back to work between her thighs. soon enough she’ll be lost in waves of ecstasy and will forget all about her apprehension, especially when you emit a low groan from the tension. 

not too big on giving oral; she doesn’t know exactly what to do and she’s afraid of disappointing you. reassurance is key. you’ll have to tell her what you like, being extra vocal the first few times will definitely help. 

when emma cums, she loses control completely. depending on how many orgasms she’s had, she’ll get more and more vocal, almost to the point of screaming. her hands will shake as she moves to wipe the gathering drool away from her lips, sweat beading on her forehead and flushed red all the way to the tips of her ears. 

every slight bit of praise you coo tightens the knot in her stomach and before you know it, she’s been totally unraveled. 

aftercare is very important. run emma a bath and massage sweet-smelling shampoo and conditioner into her hair while she breathlessly thanks you for everything earlier. take her to bed, dressed in one of your shirts (it’s long enough to be a dress on her at this point) and hold her close, whispering kind things until you both fall asleep.

[levyfiles]

Am I overreacting when I say that I find the reaction to Ryan wearing pink uncomfortable? Its not the moodboards, gifs, etc. I dont mind that and I'm not trying to gatekeep anything lmao, but its when he wears pink and people are like "omg our fem king, hes saying fuck you to toxic masculinity!!" like no?? I get he's had a masculinity problem due to him being in a frat etc. but hes not feminine just for wearing a colour. You always have good takes and I wanted to know what you would say about it

I really had to give this some time and sizzle over this because I think as a society we have a really complicated relationship with social constructs and gendered objects, and we have an even more complicated conflict with femininity, which of course means there isn’t really a simple answer to this. 

I don’t think any of Ryan’s former toxic masculinity was exclusively a frat thing because honestly, most cis men will have to contend with their own learned relationship with masculinity, however not as much as women and afab NB people have to contend with femininity and what defines it in a world that has learned to demonize femininity, especially as a performative construct. I like celebrating my own version of femininity as long as it can be acknowledged that it’s a fluid experience. The colour pink is a huge symbol for femininity and I’ve found a lot of afab people who demonize it tend to out of kneejerk internalized misogyny but the truth is it’s just a symbol. I know I myself elected to hate on the colour when I was in my edgy teenage years so the embracing and celebration of it when you get older is a way to reclaim it under our own terms whether we are man, woman, or nb, but it is still purely a symbolic thing. However, therein lies some of the issues; the symbolism and connotative meaning behind our relationships with colour as attributed to the aesthetics of gender puts us in an uncomfortable position of being able to separate colour from identity while also acknowledging our previous inability to do so. 

I think that, for me, just like the meme “so and so says trans rights” or “so and so says [some other socially conscious performance statement]” and the people who spam Shane and Ryan in comments asking them to say trans/gay rights, it’s more for the individual than it is for a community at large. We look for aspects of validation from the people we look up to and enjoy watching. We all mostly like a dude who doesn’t ascribe to binary gender normativity and Ryan wearing pastels more now (and looking good doing it btw) is something I’d say people are allowed to celebrate. 

The “boys don’t wear pink” bullshit is not an opinion you stumble on very often, so I understand why you and I would default on “it’s not that deep; it’s just a pink hoodie” but there are a lot of harmless behaviours (including feminization exclusively in headcanon/fiction) that people are going to participate in that is out of our own control. That is because it’s an individual’s relationship with aesthetics, colour and gender associations. 

Ultimately, my take is that we are better off separating colours and a lot of other things from their binary gendered associations so people can just exist; however, symbolism and constructs have a way of unravelling at a slower rate because we all have our own experience with them. Where I’d say it goes too far is if that is with the only angle we approach it. I myself was initially uncomfortable with people saying Shane dresses like a lesbian when the topic first came up 2 years ago, but nowadays, I acknowledge that my experience with clothes, gender, colour, and aesthetic is a different one than some others and that it’s OK to normalize all sorts of gender/sexuality expression in both straight and non-straight lenses until it’s all a collective without assumptions or meaning. Until it just becomes the words a person says and the statements they make about themselves that define them rather than their clothes or the colour they wear. 

I hope this was coherent, and this is only one person’s take on it. However, I don’t mind discussing more on the subject from other perspectives so feel free to reach out. 

[shima-draws]

hey... ross comforting alba drabble :3c

[[Send me a fandom/ship/prompt and I’ll write a drabble for it!]]

I wrote this all in one sitting that usually doesn’t happen. The power of Albatross is just too strong for me to resist…

Apparently I’m just screwing myself over with my intended word count so I’m just. Yeah. WELL

Anyway for once I didn’t write a oneshot during Alba’s prison tutoring times, shockingly enough since that’s all I usually write for them lmao;; I took a few liberties with Alba’s research facility esp since Part 5 isn’t super clear about what he even does in there (or maybe I just missed it? Idk lol) BUT YEAH for the sake of this story. He’s still trying to get Elf and Alf back home :’)

THANKS SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING THIS KIO I’VE MISSED WRITING THESE TWO IDIOTS

EDIT: This is up on Archive now too!!

——————————————————– 

“What are you doing here.”

It’s more of a statement than a question, and if Ros didn’t know any better he’d immediately jump into teasing Alba for his haggard appearance—but that ends up being the exact reason he decides not to. The hero has circles under his eyes that say he’s been awake for days. Ros hasn’t seen him like this since he was studying magic in a prison with seals sticking to his forehead.

“I came to check up on you,” he decides on saying, and frowns. “Which apparently was a good idea in hindsight because, frankly, you look like shit.”

Alba at least is coherent enough to roll his eyes. “Wow, thanks. I’m feeling better already.”

And with that he turns around and stalks off, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his fancy looking lab coat. Ros follows him at a trot.

“When’s the last time you ate something, Hero?” He asks, matching Alba stride for stride. They round a corner and Ros tries not to let his gaze linger too long on what’s going on around him—Alba’s research facility is like a maze and he always tends to get lost within it if he’s not careful. (Usually when he shows up, he shouts and calls attention to himself until Alba appears to either kick him out or invite him in with a look of fond annoyance.)

Alba sighs. “Does it matter? I’m eating.”

Ros looks him over and narrows his eyes. Alba looks…skinny. Skinnier than usual. Not his regular slightly muscled self. And pale. Frighteningly pale.

“Not enough, apparently. Do I need to start camping out here and force you to eat on a schedule?” He jokes, hoping for some kind of positive reaction.

The brunette only snorts. “Please. I’m an adult. I can take care of myself.”

“Hero,” Ros says, his tone chiding.

Alba comes to a sudden halt, looking frustrated. Ros keeps his distance by a foot or two, wary.

“Look, just—“ And he scrubs his hand through his hair in frustration. “What do you want? To bother me? I don’t have time to entertain you today, Ros. I’m busy.”

Ros would have immediately punched him for his clipped tone and his blatant attempt at brushing him off if the use of his name didn’t make him pause. Nowadays Alba usually calls him Shion—as a way to show his affection, he supposes, because Ros doesn’t really let anyone else call him that besides Crea. It’s weird hearing Alba use his other name now, so used to hearing “Shion” in a tone full of friendliness. 

Looking over him again, Alba looks exhausted. And also wired, like he’s been only surviving on coffee and whatever mana he has left to keep himself going.

Ros huffs out a sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. He knows what Alba’s doing, because he’s done it a million times himself. It’s pretty easy to get distracted by your goals and keep striving towards them without pausing to rest. But if Alba keeps going like this, he’s going to crash and burn eventually.

So, Ros leans over and kicks him in the shin. Hard.

Immediately, Alba leaps back, magic flaring around him. “Ow—what the fuck?!”

Huh. Alba has no filter when he’s running on maybe three hours of sleep. Ros decides to file that piece of information away for later.

“Come here,” Ros demands, grabbing his wrist. He drags him down the hall and straight to the lounge—the one place he knows how to get to in the building.

Luckily, the place is empty when they arrive. Ros gently tugs Alba over to the first couch he sees and forces him to sit on it.

Alba opens his mouth, either to protest or to complain, but Ros cuts him off.

“Listen to me. I know what you’re doing. You need to stop,” he states, looking down on the tired hero as he crosses his arms. “Elf and Alf aren’t going to suddenly up and disappear just because you’re taking a nap.”

“I know that!” Alba snaps, and then he visibly deflates, like he feels guilty for doing so. “I know that. I just…”

Ros nudges him over with his foot and then takes a seat next to him, reclining against the cushions.

“I just want to help them,” the brunette admits, softly. “I told them I would. And I feel like we’re so close to a breakthrough, to finding a way to get them home, but…”

“You’re rushing things,” Ros murmurs. He reaches up to gently tussle Alba’s hair, who releases a quiet, startled noise. “You’re cornering yourself, Hero. I know you’re dead set on fulfilling whatever promise you made to those two, but it’s not like you have an exact deadline. I’m pretty sure that if they were supposed to be erased from our timeline, they would’ve been already.”

Alba slumps, finally relaxing beneath his touch. Ros’ hand travels to stroke down his back in soothing circles.

“Getting no sleep and only eating when you need to isn’t healthy,” Ros admonishes. “And trust me, I’ve been there. You think I didn’t do everything in my power to fix what happened to Crea? I didn’t sleep for weeks.”

Alba peers up at him curiously, looking a bit more lively than he did before. “Really—? I mean—wait, no, that’s obvious, of course you didn’t. Your best friend had his body stolen right in front of you, of course you probably had trouble sleeping…”

Ros squeezes his hip and he squeaks, cheeks turning pink. The black-haired boy resists the urge to smile.

“I know you’re a masochist, but this might be taking things too far.”

“I knew you were going to say that,” Alba groans, throwing his head back.

Ros leans against his shoulder and grins like a cat. “You did? Wow. Must be our bond. You can read me so well, Hero.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Alba whines, but it’s sort of ruined when he starts laughing halfway through his sentence.

Ros runs his hand across the boy’s lower back again and chuckles. They’re sitting close enough now that their knees are almost touching. Ros’ heart floods with warmth, and he smiles.

“Don’t worry about those two. They’ll be fine. If anyone can figure out how to send them back, you can. But you don’t need to make yourself sick doing it.”

Alba nods, slowly, and avoids his gaze. His eyes are fixed firmly on the carpet, and his hands are balled in his lap. He looks almost bashful, and a bit ashamed. Ros’ arm is curled all the way around him now, his hand rubbing circles into Alba’s hip.

“Are you gonna be a good boy now and get some rest? If not I’ll have to knock you out and make you sleep.”

“Please don’t,” is the response he gets.

“Good, because if that didn’t work, I was going to call Rchi,” Ros tells him, smirking when Alba looks at him in horror. Rchi is a menace when she knows her boys are being idiots.

He finally releases him, and Alba lies down on the couch begrudgingly. He’s pouting like a child, but at least he’s finally complying.

“Get some sleep, Hero. Or I’ll be really angry.”

“Fine,” Alba sighs, closing his eyes. “See, I’m doing it now, okay? You happy?”

“Quite, actually.”

There’s a long pause, and Ros almost thinks Alba has already drifted off (which would be impressive, considering his head just hit the pillow), but Alba speaks again.

“Hey, Shion…” He mumbles. Oh. He’s gone back to using “Shion”, then. Ros tries to pretend that he’s not happy about the prospect. “Will you…stay here? Don’t go home while I’m sleeping.”

Ros’ heart skips a beat. He’s glad Alba’s eyes are closed and that he can’t read his expression.

“What, you afraid the monsters under the bed will attack you while you’re dreaming and steal your ribs? That would be a tragedy. Ribman, losing his ribs,” he jokes weakly.

“‘M not Ribman and you know it,” Alba mumbles. “And no, I just…feel safer when you’re near me. Like I can sleep easier…”

Ros covers his burning face with a hand and looks away, swallowing thickly. Jesus. This kid really is trying to kill him, isn’t he?

It takes a long while, but Ros finally answers.

“…Yeah, I’ll stay. I won’t leave your side, Alba.”

All he hears is a soft snore, and when he finally has the courage to look over again, Alba is completely passed out.

Ros exhales heavily and rubs the back of his neck. Guess he should have expected as much.

His eyes dart around the room, making sure that nobody else is around, and then he moves to crouch over Alba’s slumbering form.

“Goodnight, my Hero,” he murmurs, leaning down to gently press his lips to Alba’s forehead.

And if he holds Alba’s hand the whole time as he guards the boy who saved the world, well, that’s his little secret.

——————————————————–

We love a soft Ros who’s still trying to come to terms with his feelings uwu

[guardianofjunmyeon]

I’ve Got You (part 16)

Pairing: Jongdae x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Canon AU, Smut

Description: You work for SM as it’s public relations specialist, and Jongdae is one client that you have to deal with far too often. Sometimes though, he isn’t all that bad.

A/N: I promised smut, and here it is (kind of? not all the way tho lmao, but look at that gif hes so cute im crying blood)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21.

You’re pulled into the room silently, and it’s as if a switch is flipped inside of you. All coherent thought flies out of your mind, and you forget all about the things you know need to be addressed. Things that…are fairly serious and should be talked about with clear minds.

But they can wait. You just want to kiss him first.

The click of the door behind you snaps awake the longing that you’d pushed down since being around him this morning.

You shove him against the wall and roughly latch your lips to his, cutting off any greeting that he might have wanted to say, trying to express your urgency without words. Although taken back at first, he quickly kisses back with just as much resolve.

It feels good knowing you make him feel just as hopeless as he does to you.

The desperation in his actions coaxes a wanton moan from your mouth right into his. The sound seems to cause a sudden pause in his wandering hands as they find themselves on your jean clad ass.

He squeezes softly and swipes his tongue against your top lip. You press closer to him. “Jongdae.” His name comes out as a whisper. Thick with need and impatience. He hums before licking a stripe along the underside of your jaw that all but has your knees shaking.  Wait. Didn’t you come in here for something? “Wait, Jongdae wait.”

His lips stall on the skin of your neck and you feel him breath heavily, but he doesn’t pull back up. “Yes?” his voice is low and, fuck, it’s doing things to you that are making it a thousand times harder to think.

“I needed to tell you something,” you’re able to murmur through the light kisses he’d begun placing along your neck once again.

“Can it wait?” his breath puffs against your skin as he drifts back up and presses a soft kiss against your lips. “I’ve been waiting all week to see you, just…can the talking wait?” he asks quietly, eyes piercing into yours with unrestrained want.

Without thinking, you nod.

“Good,” he sighs happily.

His hands drag up your sides and burn a path as they run beneath your shirt against your skin. The shiver it elicits makes him laugh against your lips. Your positions switch as he turns you around and presses your back against the wall where he once was. You grunt at the collision but the sound is swallowed once his lips move to suck on your lower lip. His hips roll against you and your body responds eagerly, leg lifting to hook around his hip so you can feel him more directly.

He drops his head to the crook of your neck and moans, sending waves of anticipation through your body. You grip his hair tightly and try to grind against him as best you can with your god damned jeans.

Why are you still wearing your fucking clothes?!

Pulling your fingers away from his scalp and pushing him back marginally you try to get his attention on your words. His eyes are hooded when you capture them. “Clothes.”

He nods along with the statement, or maybe it was a command, and pulls his own shirt over his head while you pull your string bag off your shoulders and drop it at your side. His fingers grip at the hem of your shirt and you allow him to yank the shirt above your head. The air conditioning in the room hits your heated skin and goosebumps arise. Not giving your mind enough time to dwell on the sensation, you drop to your knees and link your fingers through the loops of his pants.

You feel him tense beneath your fingers as they run across this happy trail. Leaving lingering kisses along his abdomen, you make slow work of unzipping and slipping his pants down. He’s restraining himself poorly, having shallowly thrusted against the air at your touches.

The strained “please,” you hear from above you signals another wave of excitement to run through your body. As soon as his jeans hit the floor, he kicks them off. You press the palm of your hand against the growing wet spot on his grey briefs. Leisurely, you drag you hand up and down the clothed heat of his length.

“What do you want Jongdae?” you purr, blinking up at him with a smirk that is anything but innocent. His groan comes from somewhere low in his throat, and the way his eyes flutter closed at the slight pressure you add to your stroking does nothing to slow the dampening of the underwear between your legs.

“I want…ungh fuck, fuck I-”

Your nails drag along the fabric and he shudders beneath your touch. “I can’t do anything unless you tell me what you want,” you murmur, lips connecting with skin as you take the band of his briefs and pull them down agonizingly slow. His cock springs free and hits your cheek leaving a streak of precum in its wake. His moan is louder this time.

“Suck me,” he grunts, hips canting forward to match his words.

Your hand wraps around his cock and you savor the feeling of it twitching at your touch before wrapping your lips around the painfully red tip of his dick. His (barely there in the first place) control vanishes as one hand hits the wall above you and the other curls tightly in your hair.

Swipes along the underside of his cock gets the best reactions out of him, long groans that you could get off to alone. You moan against his length and give him full reign to fuck your mouth as you do your best to slacken your jaw and drag your tongue against him when you can while simultaneously trying not to gag too violently and cry.

He pulls away from you without warning and a long string of saliva connecting your mouth to his dick falls. You swallow and look up in confusion. “I don’t want to come, not that way,” he pants. It looks painful, how hard he is, and you don’t what to think about the fact that he was able to pull away. You stand up to meet his eyes and you can tell he can see your own chest rising and falling in anticipation.

“Do you have any condoms?”

“Aren’t you on the pill?” he asks, trapping you between his arms and pressing against your clothed mound.

“Yes but I don’t want to risk it,” he kisses your collarbone and you sigh. “I can’t go off and buy a morning after pill without pulling suspicion to myself,” you explain. You’re proud that you can still think with him rubbing against you. He groans in frustration. You’re not risking an unwanted pregnancy because of temporary lapse in judgement.

You might not be able to fuck, but you can do other things.

Taking the initiative, you push him backwards to his bed. “I guess we’ll have to do without.” He watches as you unclasp your bra and step out of your ruined underwear (which sucks because you really liked that pair) before crawling over him and settling your soaking heat on his thigh. A whimper slips from you and you breathe deeply to control yourself.

“What are you-”

“Shut up, and let me do something,” you murmur, rolling your hips against his thigh. God, you’ve wanted to do this for a while now, but you never knew how to ask. You wrap you hand around him and try to pump while coating the expanse of his thigh in your wetness.

His hand wraps around yours to assist in stroking his length. You can’t seem to pay enough attention to both yourself and him, so you let him take charge of moving your hand over his cock and you focus on shamelessly humping his leg. Eyes closed as you chase the release that’s right there just out of reach, you moan pathetically. His thigh twitches beneath you as he nears his own, and his choked moan is what gives you just enough to push you head first into your climax.

The spasms of your body are followed closely by the feeling of his muscles tensing and twitching below you as his stomach and your intertwined hands are covered in Jongdae’s cum.

Once you find the ability to open your eyes again, you’re both panting and Jongdae is looking at you with wide, awed and heavy emotion-filled eyes. “That was so hot.”

You can do nothing but laugh.

His arms reach up to pull you flush against his chest and you groan as the feeling of his cooling cum sliding between your bodies. “Jongdae!”

“Shut it, just give me a minute to hold you. We can wash up in a minute,” his voice is laced with an amount of affection that makes your body tingle happily, and you give in to the request easily. Melting into his touch, not caring about the mess of fluids on both of your skin.

One shared shower full of cleaning and innocent kisses later, you towel off and settle on his bed while he pulls on a new outfit. He slips a shirt from his suitcase over your head and offers you some ill-fitting shorts.

He wraps his arms around you and leans his head on your shoulder. “We should see a show on Broadway.”

A Broadway date? It actually sounds really nice. “We should…” you agree. Biting your lip nervously, you turn around in his arms so that you can face him. “…but we have some things to talk about first.”

He blinks innocently but finally nods. “Okay…what about?”

“Jongin knows,” you start bluntly. No point in beating around the bush. “He knows about us.”

His expression doesn’t change. “Okay?”

“Okay? Really that’s all you have to say? Is this not a problem?” you feel unsettled by his nonchalance. He pulls you closer and shakes his head with a sly smirk playing across his lips.

“Nope,” he murmurs, breath ghosting against your lips. You frown and pull back before he can try and distract you with kisses. Knowing you’ve seen through his plan, he sighs. “I’m not worried because he won’t tell anyone, and Junmyeon hyung also knows so he’ll make sure it doesn’t get out.”

You gasp. “You told Junmyeon!?”

“No, he just…figured it out,” he shrugs noncommittally and smiles playfully leaning back to peck your lips. “I did accidentally tell Minseok hyung though,” he adds. You splutter and he laughs before running his hands gently across your skin.

Not that you don’t like it, but he’s acting awfully affectionate. The light kisses and lingering touches within the span of the 20 minutes since you both decided to start moving around the room again is suspicious.

Suspicious, and you have a feeling you know the reason behind it.

“What is up with you? Why are you acting so…” you wiggle your fingers around and lose you train of thought at the need to run your thumb across the bottom of his lip. His lips part unconsciously.

His eyebrow ticks up with the beginning of a wide grin breaking out, and you know the answer isn’t going to be good. Or at least…not something you’re ready to hear him utter. “What? Can I not kiss my girlfriend who lov-” your hand smacks over his mouth. You can’t bear to hear him tease you.

“Don’t! Don’t…” you exhale and he watches you closely. Your explanation tumbles off your tongue in shaky syllables as you try to make it seem like less of a big deal. “I wasn’t thinking when I said that, and I really hoped you hadn’t heard me. I was just distracted and it really didn’t mean-” the words fade as he wordlessly slides your hand down and settles it on his chest right above his heart. It’s beating as hard as your own.

“I love you.” Your eyes widen at his words and at the way his heart pounds just a bit harder beneath your palm. You swallow at the intensity in his eyes, and it gets far too hard to breathe and holy shit he didn’t actually just- “I’m in love with you,” he repeats just as serious as the first time. “I love you. Or…I love you too. I don’t know. I want you to know that I mean what I’m saying, so I’m letting myself- I’m giving you my heart to feel so you can feel that I mean this. I want you to know how hard my heart beats around you. Every time without fail.

“If you meant it…what you said on the phone, and even if you didn’t, it doesn’t change how I feel. I’m…irrevocably in love…with you.” he whispers the last of his words and keeps his eyes on your own.

You expect a change in them. For it to look different from the looks he’d given you before, but it doesn’t. It’s the same…exact look. The one he gave you hundreds of times over the months you found yourself involved with him. In times even before you’d even realized you liked him.

It’s the same look, but now you have the words to describe it.

Love.

You want to cry. No, you don’t. You want to run out of the room and fly on a plane back to Seoul and hide in your bed for the rest of your life in giddy solitude because he loves you and this isn’t a dream. It can’t be because you feel his heart beneath your palm beating fast and steady as he looks at you with that look that promises to learn your secrets, and unravel your heart so that he can make a home within it.

“I-” why won’t your tongue work? In all the times you’d had to talk, it never failed you. When you need it most, it decides to go on vacation. You blink back tears. Push back fears and worry. You just want to enjoy this. Enjoy feeling so high and happy that it feels like your own heart might pop out of your chest if you let it.

His nervous laugh pulls you to earth for a moment and you clench your hand around the shirt covering his heart. “Did…you mean it?” he asks a bit breathless.

A whimper. That’s what you give him. A sad whimper that quickly turns into you mushing your lips against his repeatedly. Hard enough that you might bruise them if you keep it up. “Yes,” you whimper. You nod your head vigorously. “Yes, I meant it. I love you too Jongdae.”

He brightens and exhales so hard that he slumps over. His hand squeezes yours. “Thank god, I felt like I was going to die waiting for you to say something,” he admits. He laughs then, and you want to do nothing except hug him tightly and never let him go.

You throw yourself on top of him and try to do just that.