#uh i should probably tag this with some content warning

[aqualityofthought]

Did anyone else have a younger brother (or sibling ig) whom everyone was afraid of, even your parents?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Besotted 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, virginity loss, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your new neighbour brings intrigue and a bit of danger.

Characters: ex-con!Bucky Barnes

Note: Saturday is fat tiddies day. I'm sorry.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"Wow, uh, I'd say that's a lot but it's really not much," you snort at Angelique as she comes out of your bathroom in a tiny string bikini. The leopard print is loud on the tiny triangles barely concealing her tits and a few other parts. 

"Not all of us are nuns like you," she retorts and sticks out her tongue. 

"I'm not a nun," you roll your eyes. 

You're not exactly modest yourself. You like your booty shorts and your cropped tops. And when you're lazy enough, you can be caught walking around in your purple track pants that read sex bomb across the ass. Not exactly classy, but fun. 

"Right, right, sure," she scoffs. 

"That's a low blow," you hiss. 

"Well, it's the truth. What's that now? Twenty-two and you're as pure as the blessed Mother Mary." 

"You're a fucking bitch," you sneer. 

"I am," she grins and shakes her tits. "But the guys love it." 

"You are so dumb," you scowl. 

"Try a smile, babe, and maybe someone will want to get it in." 

"Wow, did you just come over here to be awful?" 

"No, I came over to have fun. Loosen up, have some vodka." She insists. 

"Oh, no, I get it, you came to drink my booze," you accuse. 

"Look, it's hot enough out that I don't need you breathing down my neck. You invited me over," she snips. 

"Regretfully," you tweak your brow. 

"Boo, get you're fucking swimsuit on. I'm dying." She crosses her arms and drags her feet across the floor. She grabs her drink; some strawberry kiwi juice and too much vodka. 

"Why don't you go start?" You ask. "Better than pouting over your drinking problem." 

"Cuntttttt," she growls the last consonant. "Oh, you are the worst." 

"Isn't that why you love me?" You blow her a kiss and skip into your bedroom. 

You better keep up with her so you can put up with her. Vodka and orange juice should do the trick. A little less sickly sweet. You pull out your bikini. The sides of the bottoms are silver hoops and there's another between the bra cups. It's not exactly a nun's habit, is it? Especially with your tits. 

As you come out, you tuck in your left boob, the bigger one. Angelique swirls around her glass before emptying it. It's barely noon. 

"You know, you'll probably be drunk before you even get a tan," you chirp. 

"Probably," she shrugs and spins. "Come on, I'm bored." 

You huff and stomp around her. You pour yourself some vodka then find the carton of orange juice in your fridge. Hm, only enough for one drink. Nice of her to bring mixer for both of you. You dump it in with the vodka and head for the door. 

You grab your sunglasses before you step out into the sunlight. It's blazing hot. You slurp back the orange juice laced with alcohol and look around. You don't have much but it's yours. Somewhat. The sunburnt grass and cracked walkway. That's really the dream home. 

You put down your drink on the folding table under the mailbox and grab the kiddy pool leaning against the siding. Angelique makes no effort to help. You don't expect her too.

You drag it over onto the lawn and go around to unwind the hose. You unwind it and haul it back with you, tugging out the kinks until it reaches the pool. You'd do this all in the backyard but there's too many ant hills. 

You hold the hose and spray it into the plastic pool. As you do, you notice the peculiar dark shape in the next lot; a motorcycle. There's boxes on the other side of the duplex porch. Huh, they must've found a new tenant. 

Angelique pops open a bottle of tanning lotion and generously applies it over her arms and chest. She's shining as she smears it over her sandy skin. You'll put on some actual SPF when you get a minute. 

You wiggle the hose as you grow bored of filling the pool. Your mind wanders. She always has to say something. Always has to embarrass you. Never lets you forget every time you struck out. Well, you're just a little awkward. Maybe you should stop giving a fuck. Like her. 

"Oh, summer feels so good," she struts over with her drink and steps into the pool.

She sits and shivers so her pert tits jiggle. A top like that would do nothing but go missing under your chest. As she reclines and basks in the sunlight, you sigh. 

"Gee, Ang, thanks for all your help." 

"No problem, girly." She smirks and bends her leg, swaying it as you notice the neighbours across the street gawking. The two pot-bellied men who meet up to gripe on their lawn chair. Ew. 

You drop the hose in and go back to the porch. You dip inside for your bottle of sunscreen and come back out. You work at rubbing it in. You'll wait a bit before you get in so it doesn't wash off. It's no Hawaiian coast but that small dented pool is your only relief from the summer heat. 

Angelique swishes her second drink in the glass. You don't think she'd help with your back. She's in her own little bubble. As usual. 

You hear the snap of the door behind the wooden crisscross that blocks the other half of the porch. You glance over at the shadow that passes by. The unit's been empty almost since you got there. No tenant stayed longer than a month. 

The man tramps down his stairs and to the motorcycle leaning on its kickstand. He digs around in the saddle bags then turns. As he does, you catch his eye and give a half-smile. You wave weakly as he keeps going. Oh. 

You blink and look at Angelique. She's completely unaware; of your new neighbour or her audience. Two teen boys pass by in a not so subtle detour from their side of the street. You grimace but they're not looking at you. 

You turn the bottle in your hands. That man. He's kinda handsome, if he is a bit older. His long hair is a mix of fading brown and grey. His beard is seasoned with silver and his blue eyes shine boldly. And his jawline. That's to die for.  

Why had you been so hung up on boys your own age? 

The thought make you cringe. Are you serious? Angelique is right. You're too desperate. 

“Anj,” you approach the pool. 

“If you’re not offering to refill my drink, I don’t want to hear it.” Her eyes are closed behind the dark lenses. 

“Why are we friends again?” You mutter. 

She just giggles and finishes her drink. Nope. If she wants more, she can get it. You spin away and catch sight of that man again. 

Your new neighbour grabs a box from the stack on the front porch. You step up to the property line and smile. He doesn’t notice you as he disappears inside. 

There’s not much. The boxes are dusty, marked with the logos of the local storage facility, and his motorcycle is the only other thing there. He must’ve had the stuff dropped off. 

He emerges again and you wave, “uh, excuse me? Hi. Neighbour?” 

He pauses and his shoulders tense. He faces you slowly. His left arm is covered in ink. The patterns are intricate. His other arm is marked with scars. 

You introduce yourself as you sidle up the property line. He stares. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” You say. He still doesn’t answer. “What’s your name?” 

He looks up then back at you. “Bucky,” he grits out. His voice is sexy. 

“Oh, Bucky? That’s cute,” you say. “Say, neighbour, can I ask a favour? I’ll bring you a casserole for your trouble.” 

He considers you, “don’t gotta do that.” He crosses his arms. His biceps bulge and so do your eyes. He is built. 

“Oh, but I wouldn’t mind, it’s just...” you peek over your shoulder at Angelique as she lazes in the water. The sun beats down on you hotly and sweat beads on your nape. You look at Bucky. “I can’t reach my back.” You show the bottle of sunscreen and smile sheepishly. “Could I get a hand?” 

He grumbles and tilts his head. He looks you up and down. 

“I really don’t wanna burn. It’s so hot out.” You plead. 

Reluctantly he unfolds his arms and comes down the porch steps. He approaches and his chest decompresses visibly as he exhales. He extends his palm to you. You press the bottle into it. 

“Thanks!” You let go and shimmy then turn your back to him. 

There’s a moment before the lid clicks. He still doesn’t speak. You hear the lotion squirt and brace yourself. He smears it, barely touching you. As the lotion only slides over your skin, he sighs. He shifts and rubs it in more firmly. You push back against his strength, arching your back just slightly. 

Your heart races. His hesitance is disappointing. You know you’re not ugly. The reasons you got for your many rejections were that you didn’t want a one-night stand or you insisted on protection. It’s not too much to ask for. You really don’t think it’s your looks. 

“All done,” he says. 

The lid snaps shut loudly. 

You face him, your bikini top stretching dangerous as your chest bounces. His eyes flick down briefly. You nearly laugh. It’s a nice reassurance. 

“Thanks, Bucky,” you smile. 

He grumbles again and hands you back the bottle. Your cheeks are on fire. He’s so hot. He’s got that definition that makes you all fuzzy. You bet he knows exactly what to do. 

“So if you need anything, I’m just next door,” you point to your side of the duplex. “Oh, and I don’t mind noise. At all.” 

He nods. You wring your hands around the bottle. 

“But you know, if you do, I can be quiet,” you say, realising the double meaning only as your words hang between you. 

His brows rise and he dips his chin again. He turns and stalks away. He’s busy. You’re bothering him. You’ll try again when he’s not unpacking. 

Your eyes linger on his bike. That might be good place to start. It’s all harmless. You’re being a good neighbour. 

You go to your own side of the porch and put the bottle on the top step. You go to the pool and poke Angelique with your toe. “Move over.” 

She snorts but gives you room. You get in, arms around the edge, feet up on the other. She giggles. 

“What?” 

“He’s a bit... ancient,” she flips her sunglasses up and gives you a pointed look. 

“Whatever,” you shrug. 

“Even so... he’s in good shape,” she sits up slight, flattening her hands against the bottom of the pool. “Hmmm... maybe you might have a chance with the old man.” 

“You’re such a bitch,” you growl. 

“No, really. Do you think you do?” She asks. 

You furrow your brow and search her face, “why?” 

“Oh, it could be fun. How about a bet?” 

“A bet?” 

“Sure, you know, we’re going down to the beach. Got that old house by the shore and there’s only so many spots. You could have one if you can reel him in. No virgins on vacation,” she taunts. 

“Fuck, I hate you,” you sneer. 

“You love me and I know for a fact, you don’t have a chance of seeing the beach if you don’t come so...” 

You take a breath and peer over as your neighbour swings the door open once more. He’s entirely undistracted as he lifts another box. Your stomach swims with nerves. You can flirt; it’s that next thing you never got the hang over. But so far, he’s not even flirting. 

“Guaranteed?” You arch a brow in her direction. 

“Promise. It’ll give you something to talk about.” She cranes to watch, “you better hope his dick still works.” 

[simplyraeblue]

hunter and hunted (jjk)

college (summer) break au: a fic in which y/n is pining over Yuji's older brother Sukuna, while unbeknownst to her, Choso is doing the same thing for her. contents: sukuna x reader, choso x reader, modern college AU, yuji and choso are brothers, sukuna and yuji are brothers, smut warning

chapter warnings/tags: MDNI, NSWF, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v penetration, rough sex, degradation, no after care, slight non-con, after bruising, sukuna sucks during sex A/N: I never said Sukuna was gonna be a good guy yet... but that doesn't mean I don't plan to try and redeem him. Sukuna is an absolute toxic man at this point, so keep that in mind.

index part five | part seven

part five word count: 2,931

you couldn't quite figure out what had come over Sukuna recently. over the past few days, he seemed to be everywhere you were. after your kiss, he’d been noticeably kinder—or at least less overtly hostile—and he wasn’t completely avoiding you anymore.

“is it just me, or did someone kidnap my brother and replace him with a clone?” Yuji asked, watching as Sukuna offered you a bite of his food before retreating to his room to eat.

you shrugged, trying to play it cool. “probably, but I’m not complaining. if I can get through a day without being cursed out every other sentence, I’m all for it.”

“it’s just weird,” Yuji said, leaning against the counter and staring at the stairs as if expecting answers to materialize. “it’s like he only acts like this around you.”

his comment made your cheeks warm. there was no way he’d figure it out so quickly. “maybe he’s been sipping on some respect women juice?” you suggested with a smile.

Yuji’s face lit up as if a light bulb had gone off. “that’s it! I bet he found a girlfriend!”

you choked on your drink. Yuji’s theory left you sputtering, trying to regain your composure. “uh, yeah, maybe,” you managed to say, still a bit flustered.

Yuji’s excitement was palpable. “it makes sense, right? maybe he’s trying to impress someone.”

you forced a laugh, hoping Yuji wouldn’t press further. “sure, let’s go with that.”

Yuji seemed to accept this explanation, nodding to himself. “well, if it means he’s less of a jerk, I guess I’m okay with it.”

as Yuji wandered off, you found yourself alone with your thoughts, your mind racing. Sukuna's recent change in behavior was a puzzle, and while Yuji’s theory was amusing, you knew there was more to it. a darker truth, a deeper desire burning inside of your bones that would never dare admit to your best friend.

when sukuna emerged from his room later, his usual guarded demeanor was back in place, but there was a hint of something softer in his eyes when he looked at you. it was a stark contrast to the rough exterior he usually wore.

“Yuji’s got a big mouth. could hear him all the way upstairs,” sukuna said gruffly, though there was no real malice in his tone.

you raised an eyebrow, playing along. “yeah, he does. but what’s this about you being a clone?”

sukuna smirked, a trace of his old self peeking through. “I guess I’ll have to keep you guessing.”

as he walked past you, his fingers brushed against yours, sending a shiver up your spine. you weren’t sure if you should push it with him, but you were aching to bring up the kiss. the way he spoke about wanting to see if you were innocent. the feeling of his hands on your hips – and the fact that you were ready to let him do whatever he wished. maybe if you just-

“you’re starin’ at me like I’ve got two heads, doll.” Sukuna’s voice cracked through your thoughts. he tilted his head quizzically at you, trying to read your expression with a smirk. “having a walking wet dream about me?”

“sukuna!” you hissed, whipping around to scan the living room, ensuring that Yuji and Choso were both well out of earshot. “don’t be so crass.”

Sukuna’s smirk only grew as he advanced, his presence forcing you against the counter. “looks like we’re right back to where we were a few days ago,” he drawled, his eyes glinting with mischief.

you felt a flush creep up your neck at the memory, the way it played so vividly in your mind as if it had happened just moments ago. “I thought you’d have forgotten by now.”

Sukuna leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “if you find yourself feeling lonely tonight, you know exactly where to find me.”

a shiver jolted through your body at his words, and you had to clamp down on the urge to grab his face and pull him into a kiss right there in the kitchen. Sukuna’s low, rumbling chuckle echoed in your ears as he drew back, his eyes dancing with a mischievous glint. with one last, lingering wink, he turned and walked back to his room, leaving you to grapple with the heat of his words and the buzz of his presence still lingering in the air.

you felt like a machine, mechanically going through the motions to get ready to go to bed, the electricity still buzzing inside of you. you combed through your hair (with a little more care than usual), brushed your teeth (maybe a little to vigorously), and applied a lovely, scented lotion. sure, maybe you added some extra steps to your routine, and maybe you slipped on a cuter set of pajamas than usual.

but no matter how much you might have primped, you swore up and down that you wouldn’t be the one to make the first move.

as you lay in bed, struggling to quiet your racing thoughts and falling prey to fantasies that danced through your mind, you heard your phone buzz on the nightstand. you nearly leaped out of bed to grab it, a surge of anticipation and nervous energy rushing through you.

‘Kuna: you up?’

you couldn’t help but chuckle at the audacity of his text—so straightforward, so typical of him. a whirlwind of emotions churned inside you as you debated whether or not to reply. before you could make up your mind, your phone buzzed again.

‘Kuna: get up here.’

your heart skipped a beat. it was as if an invisible string had yanked you from your bed. without a second thought, you slipped out of bed, making sure to close your door quietly behind you. you crept up the stairs as stealthily as possible, the silence of the house amplifying each step you took. when you reached Sukuna’s door, you knocked softly, the anticipation making your pulse race.

when the doorknob turned, Sukuna swung it open, revealing himself in nothing but a pair of sweatpants. your hands were already trembling with nerves, the sight of him in such a casual state sending a jolt of excitement through you. “come in, welcome to my dungeon,” he said with a lopsided grin, stepping aside to let you enter.

as you stepped into the room, a wave of anxiety settled into your stomach. the space before you was one you had always been forbidden from entering—a room even Yuji hesitated to tread. the room was a stark contrast to the rest of the house, a sanctuary that seemed to exude Sukuna’s very essence.

“wow, I feel like I’m breaking some sort of rule by being in here,” you joked, trying to mask your unease as you took in the scene. the room was dark and moody, with deep-toned bedding and a set of weights casually thrown into one corner. heavy metal band posters adorned the walls, each one screaming Sukuna’s personality.

before you could comment further on the eclectic decor, Sukuna closed the distance between you, his hands gripping your hips firmly. he spun you around to face him, his lips crashing into yours with an urgent intensity. “been wanting to do that every damn day,” he growled, his voice rough with longing as he nipped at your lips. the fierceness of his kiss sent shivers down your spine, and all your previous anxiety seemed to melt away under the heat of his touch.

“why haven’t you?” you asked through kisses, your hands already coming around to fist the back of his shirt.

“damn brats all over the place.” he muttered, bringing his hands onto your face. you weren’t surprised by how rough and insistent he was being – your desire to just be touched by him overwhelmed you.

“well, you’ve got me all to yourself now.” you told him as his lips trailed from yours down your neck, biting the skin there and causing you to groan.

he didn’t respond, only guided you backwards until your legs hit the edge of his bed before you laid on your back. Sukuna leaned above you, looking down at you as you stared up at him. maybe, you told yourself, just maybe he was looking at you with actual affection.

“I told you I’ve been wanting to see how innocent you were, now I’ve got the chance.” Sukuna grunted as he dipped his head down to your neck again while his hands began to roam your body. everywhere he touched, everywhere he kissed, left a trail of fire that had your skin burning.

through your heavy, pleasured breathing, you grabbed his face to bring him up to kiss you – but he pulled away to dive into your breasts. you gasped at the contact, feeling him shoving the material up your body and roughly pulling it over your head. “Sukuna,” you squealed, wanting to cover up.

as your arms went to cover yourself, he grabbed your wrists and pinned them over you with one hand. Sukuna immediately latched himself onto one of your perked up nipples, sucking and nipping at them feverishly. when he bit a little too hard, you yelped out, only making him go harder at the sound.

you wanted him to kiss you, but every time you tried to connect your lips with his he buried his face elsewhere. his hand untied your silky shorts, shoving them down your legs. you might’ve thought nothing of it until you felt a cool breeze hitting your already dripping core. he’d taken your panties with your pants.

“Sukuna, maybe we should slow-”

“shh.” he interrupted, letting his grip on your wrist go before moving that hand to cover your mouth. “wanna taste you.”

with your eyes as wide as saucers, you watched as he nuzzled into your heat, quickly licking a stripe through your folds. your back arched and you moaned into his hand at the contact, wanting more. needing more.

as if your reaction told him all he needed to hear, he suddenly slurped up your juices loudly, his tongue diving into your pussy. “Skna,” you whined, muffled by his skin as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“taste s’ good.” Sukuna murmured as he devoured you. instinctively, your thighs began to squeeze shut, clenching his head between them. he didn’t even look up at you as he pulled up from licking you to spit on your clit before taking it between his lips, sucking hard and swirling his tongue around it.

he removed his hand from your mouth to pry one of your legs to the side, gripping it so hard you were sure you’d have bruises in the shape of his fingertips. “Sukuna, feel s’ good.” you rasped as he continued pumping his fingers in and out of you at a faster pace now, every suck of your clit sending you closer and closer to your orgasm.

just as you thought you were about to cum, and were close to warning him, he withdrew his fingers and his mouth, leaving you cold. “need t’ fuck you right now.” Sukuna growled, grasping your hips and flipping you with harsh speed so that you were on your stomach. he slid a hand under you, pulling your hips up so that your ass was in the air. 

“fuck, do you have a condom?” you asked, your body trembling with desire and a tightness in your gut from getting so close to your release.

“no, don’t use ‘em.” you wanted to protest, but you were so desperate for him to just put it inside of you.

you tried to turn your body, so that you could see his face, but his hand shot to the back of your neck and lower back to keep you in place. “stay still f’ me doll.” he groaned, and before you could plead with him to kiss you, you felt his tip teasing your entrance.

when the hell did he take off his pants?

while you weren’t inexperienced with sex, having a few flings over your college years, you were pretty sure it had never been like this. just as you were thinking he’d slowly enter you – just like your past experiences – you shrieked as he shoved his cock fully inside of you.

pain and pleasure seared through you as tears pricked your eyes. “you’re so – fuck – so tight.” Sukuna panted as he wasted no time in bullying his cock inside until it was kissing your cervix.

“you’re – mph – too big, Sukuna.” you moaned, trying to will your walls to stretch for him so that you wouldn’t feel the pain. “s-slow down.”

but he either didn’t hear you over his own pleasure, or didn’t care, because his pace only quickened. “that’s right, doll – hah – take my fat cock like the little slut you are.” Sukuna bit out, snapping his hips into yours with such force that you almost fell forward.

“Sukuna, please—” you whimpered, biting your lip in a desperate attempt to stay quiet. you could barely muster the words, but you needed him to kiss you, to slow down and be gentler.

the hand Sukuna held on to the back of your neck slipped around to grab your throat, pulling your body back to meet his pace. “takin’ it s’ well.” slap. “knew you weren’t innocent.” slap. “gonna be m’ dirty whore.”

with every dirty insult, you tried to tell yourself that he probably just had a degradation kink. he didn’t actually mean those things. with your body still at war between pain and pleasure, you felt him bullying your g spot with his cock and you arrived at the edge yet again.

“Sukuna – ha – slow down – mph – ‘m gonna cum.” you hiccupped, tears rolling down your face now at the stimulation your body was being put through. every time his tip hit your g spot you felt the wave start to crash over you. he didn’t slow down, sending you right over the cliff.

your vision went white as a blazing hot orgasm rocketed through you, your body spasming and clenching around his cock while you tried to keep quiet and not scream his name. even as you rode out your release, he continued bullying into you, harder and faster now as he relished the feeling of you milking him.

“that’s right, cum on this dick.” Sukuna barked, his grip tightening on your throat to the point you were beginning to see stars. his hips snapped into yours more forcefully, echoing lewd, wet slaps through the room as he neared the ledge as well, losing control of his thrusts.

just as you were about to tell him to pull out, since he wasn’t wearing a condom, you felt a twitch inside of you as he let out a loud groan. warmth spread through your pussy, coating your walls with his cum as he rutted into you. “fuck fuck fuck.” he growled out, slamming into you until he was absolutely drained of cum.

you both were panting heavily when he pulled out of you. “that was-” you started to say with a weak smile, until Sukuna practically threw a towel in your direction.

“here, to clean up.” he stated, using a washcloth to clean himself off before pulling up his boxers and sweatpants.

shame rushed through you suddenly. he didn’t even look at you as he went to take a drink of water, merely letting you clean yourself off as you felt his cum seeping out of you. you screamed at him in your mind to just look at you, to kiss you softly and help you clean up the mess he made, to hold you and caress you and to –

“’m gonna crash now.” Sukuna broke through your storm of thoughts, pulling back his blankets and climbing in bed while you still sat on the edge. “maybe you should go back downstairs, so it’s not suspicious in the morning.”

tears welled up in your eyes as you scrambled to put your pajamas back on, your movements hurried and frantic. “y-yeah, that makes sense,” you forced out, trying to sound casual despite the tears now streaming down your cheeks. you refused to turn around, unwilling to let him see you cry. “goodnight,” you mumbled as you opened his door and fled from the room, shutting it quietly behind you.

you stood in the hallway for a moment, feeling numb and disoriented, as if your legs were unable to move on their own. with a sense of zombie-like detachment, you made your way down the stairs, no longer caring about making any noise. you trudged into the bathroom; the fluorescent lights harsh against your tear-streaked face.

you grabbed a wet washcloth and began to clean up, your silent sobs almost breaking through. as you wiped your legs, a sudden sharp pain made you flinch. glancing down, you saw dark bruises beginning to form on your thighs, one set specifically looking like finger markings. panic surged through you, and you rushed to the mirror, your breath hitching as you saw a handprint emerging on your neck and a raw, angry bite mark between your neck and shoulder. the sight made your heart race, and your breathing came in shallow gasps, the reality of what had happened crashing down on you with brutal clarity.

when your head finally hit the pillow, your entire body aching and tears still rolling down your face, you found sleep quickly. and this time, there were no pleasant dreams to make you feel better.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

A/N DISCLAIMER: let me just clarify, this is NOT how sex should be unless both parties' consent to this level of degradation and roughness. if you're into that kind of thing and your partner is too, then by all means have at it! I took this from my own past relationship, and how it was, and I know it was never supposed to be like that. so please, don't think this is normal whatsoever. IT IS NOT. this is purely a work of fiction, and I would never tell anyone that this was okay.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ taglist: @nighttwingg @sweetsformysoul @casualpoetrytaco @lvingd3adg0rl @haikomaiko if you’d like to be added to the taglist for this WIP let me know! ♡ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

[folkwhoredoll]

golden retriever - rafe cameron x fem!reader

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

synopsis: when your dog runs off to approach rafe

word count: 0.8k

warnings/tags: fluff (i used the name "finn" because that's the name of my dog irl but feel free to change it😊)

masterlist

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The waves lapped gently at the shore as you walked along the beach, the familiar sound of Finn's paws pattering beside you bringing a sense of peace. It was a beautiful evening, the sun beginning to set, casting a soft, golden hue across the water. The gentle breeze tugged at your hair, and you smiled as you looked down at Finn, your golden retriever, who seemed just as content as you.

But that peace didn’t last long.

Out of nowhere, Finn’s ears perked up, and before you could react, he bolted. His leash slipped from your hand as his strong body charged forward, and you stumbled backward, momentarily stunned by the sudden burst of energy.

“Finn! No!” you called, panic rising in your chest as you sprinted after him. Your heart pounded in your ears as you struggled to keep up with his large frame darting down the beach.

Of course, Finn was fast—too fast. He wove through the sand, his fur shining like liquid gold under the dimming sun, clearly set on reaching something you couldn't see. Your legs burned from the effort, and your breath came in short gasps. He was heading straight toward a figure standing near a boat docked not far away.

You froze when you realized who it was.

Rafe Cameron.

Of all people, why him? You'd heard enough about his reputation to know that approaching him wasn't exactly on your to-do list.

Before you could even think of a way to stop the disaster unfolding, Finn was already upon him, tail wagging like crazy. But what surprised you even more was how Rafe reacted. He didn’t flinch or seem irritated as Finn skidded to a stop, practically bumping into him. Instead, he crouched down and gave your dog a firm pat on the head, his expression surprisingly calm.

"Easy there, big guy," Rafe muttered, scratching behind Finn’s ears.

You finally caught up, your breath ragged as you stopped in front of them, panting and wide-eyed. "Finn! Oh my God, I'm so sorry—he's usually not like this, I swear."

Your heart was still pounding, not just from the run but from the sight in front of you: Rafe Cameron, notorious for his cold demeanor, standing casually with your runaway golden retriever as if they were old pals. Finn was calm now, his big, goofy grin aimed up at Rafe, tongue hanging out in utter contentment.

Rafe’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, and for a split second, something softened in his gaze. His lips curled into the faintest of smirks, though he kept his voice even. "It’s fine. Looks like he likes me."

You were caught off guard by how casual he sounded, like it wasn’t the first time he’d had a giant, excitable dog run full-speed at him. "Yeah, he… he doesn’t usually do that," you managed, still trying to catch your breath. You knelt down beside Finn, gripping his leash as if that could somehow ground you in this strange moment.

You couldn’t help but feel a little nervous. Rafe’s reputation wasn’t exactly pristine, and while you didn’t know him personally, you had heard enough to make your stomach flip with a mix of caution and curiosity. But standing here now, watching him scratch Finn behind the ears with that half-smirk on his face, he didn’t seem dangerous. Just… quiet.

"Well, he’s got good taste," Rafe said, his voice low but teasing. His blue eyes lingered on you for a second longer than you expected, sending a strange flutter through your chest.

You blinked, heat rising in your cheeks. Was that a compliment? "Uh, thanks," you stammered, feeling oddly out of place. You tugged at Finn’s leash, trying to focus. "I should, um, I should probably go. Sorry again for, you know, the…dog situation."

Rafe straightened up, brushing some sand off his hands. His expression was neutral now, but there was something unreadable in his eyes. "No problem," he replied simply, though the corners of his mouth twitched, like he was holding back another smirk. "Try to keep him on a tighter leash next time."

You bit your lip, unsure whether to laugh or be embarrassed, but you nodded. "Yeah, I’ll do that." You gave Finn’s leash a gentle tug, urging him to follow you away from the beach and away from Rafe Cameron, who now stood watching you with that same unreadable look.

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but glance back over your shoulder, half-expecting him to be gone. But Rafe was still there, his hands now in his pockets, gazing out at the horizon. Something about that moment—the golden sunset, the quiet between you—stuck with you as you made your way down the beach, Finn trotting obediently beside you.

You weren’t sure why your heart was still racing.

[kats0nlin3]

master of none 3 | eddie munson x fem!reader

summary Hurt and betrayed, she finds herself growing closer to Ross, a familiar face with a kind heart. But Eddie isn’t happy about that. Fueled by jealousy and anger, he spirals.

warnings nsfw, 18+ only, toxic relationship, emotional manipulation, jealousy, verbal abuse, implied sexual content, public humiliation, physical altercation, yelling/arguing, crying, anxiety, stalking (implied), breaking and entering (implied), Y/N

tags @kellyxo1 @justalotoffanfiction @hufflepuffobsessedwithmarvel @scream4mami @littlemissholy @them-cute-boys @thepurplelovewitch

Part 2

𝜗𝜚

You drop your books onto an empty table with a dull thud, exhaling as you take in the blessed quiet of the library. This time of day, most students were either in class or too distracted elsewhere to bother studying, leaving you with a rare pocket of peace. Perfect. You had a free period, and you planned to use it to make some progress on your history paper.

Flipping through your notes, you scan the assignment instructions—only to realize you’re missing one crucial book for your sources. With a sigh, you push your chair back and weave through the maze of shelves, heading toward the back corner where you last saw a copy.

Sure enough, the book is right where it should be. The only problem? It’s perched on the very top shelf, far out of reach.

You stretch onto your toes, fingertips just brushing the spine. No luck. You glance around—no step stool in sight. With a determined huff, you start prepping yourself to scale the shelf, already mapping out where to place your feet—

An arm suddenly reaches past you, plucking the book from the shelf with ease.

You spin around, startled, only to be met with Ross’s smirking face as he holds the book out to you.

“Oh,” you blink, catching your breath. “Uh—thanks.”

He shrugs, still holding the book as if waiting for something. Eventually, you take it from his hand, clutching it to your chest as you turn back toward your table. But Ross doesn’t leave. Instead, he follows.

“I didn’t take you for a history type of girl,” he muses. “You know, with all this war stuff and—”

“Why? Because I’m all about getting my nails done and going shopping?” you say, keeping your tone serious, arms crossed as you level him with a stare.

Ross’s face goes bright red, his confidence crumbling in an instant. “No! No, absolutely not! I didn’t mean it like that, I was just—”

You let the silence hang for a second longer, watching him scramble, before cracking a grin. “Relax, Ross. I was messing with you.”

He exhales sharply, pressing a hand to his chest like you just gave him a heart attack. “Jesus. You got me.” After a second, he starts chuckling too, shaking his head. “Not funny.”

“Very funny.” You smirk, setting your book down on the table. “Anyway, I’m writing a history paper for my sixth-period class. That’s why I’ve got all these books.”

“You need some help?” Ross asks, nodding toward your stack of books. “I mean, you’re pretty smart, and you probably know what you’re doing, but I kinda like history myself. Could rant about a thing or two.”

You glance up at him, surprised but amused. “You? A history buff?”

“What can I say? I have layers.”

“You know what? That would actually be great.” You push your bag off the chair beside you and gesture for him to sit.

Ross wastes no time dropping into the seat, shrugging off his letterman jacket and slinging it over the chair. As he digs into his backpack, you turn back to your notes, only to pause when he pulls out a brown paper bag and starts unpacking his lunch.

“You eaten yet?” he asks, glancing at you as he unwraps a sandwich.

Your stomach twists slightly at the question. You can’t exactly say yes—not after what happened with Eddie at lunch. You had barely touched your food, still reeling from the way he walked away like it was nothing. Like you were nothing.

You swallow hard, forcing a casual tone. “Uh, yeah.”

Ross doesn’t look convinced. He pauses for a moment, then silently pulls out a second sandwich and slides it across the table toward you.

You hesitate. It looks really good, and truthfully, your appetite has started creeping back. But you don’t want to take his food, especially if he packed it for himself.

“Ross, I—”

“Just take it,” he interrupts, not even looking up as he pops open a bag of chips. “I don’t like eating alone anyway.”

The simple statement makes your chest tighten unexpectedly. After a beat, you sigh, giving in and picking up the sandwich.

“…Thanks.”

Ross grins, and you can’t help but return it. As you take a bite of the sandwich, he stands up, fishing some loose change from his pocket.

“I’m gonna grab you a Coke. Any favorite?”

You shake your head, still chewing.

“Alright, mystery flavor it is,” he teases, stepping backward toward the library doors. “I’ve got cookies in the bag—help yourself.”

He’s still mid-sentence when bam—he collides with someone just as he’s pushing through the door.

Dustin hits the ground with a surprised yelp.

“Oh, shit! My bad, man!” Ross immediately bends down, grabbing Dustin’s arms and hauling him up with ease. “You alright?”

Dustin blinks up at him, wide-eyed, nodding quickly like he’s afraid Ross might change his mind and body-slam him instead.

Ross gives him a pat on the arm, nods once, and heads off toward the lunchroom like nothing happened.

Dustin, still stunned that a jock not only didn’t cuss him out but actually helped him up, brushes himself off. His confusion quickly morphs into curiosity as he glances through the library window.

And then he freezes.

Ross just came out of there. And you’re in there. Alone. With him.

Shit.

Eddie is not going to like this.

⭒ ⭒ ⭒

“See you tomorrow, Ed!” Jeff called out, slinging his bag over his shoulder as he headed for the door. The rest of the Hellfire Club filed out behind him, their post-campaign chatter fading into the hallway.

With the session officially dismissed, only Dustin and Eddie remained. Dustin had technically volunteered to help clean up, but really, he was using the time to grovel.

“I swear, once it started coming out, I couldn’t stop! And you know Steve—he’s like a dog with a bone when it comes to his sister—”

Eddie let out a low chuckle, tossing a stray D20 into the dice bag. “Henderson, breathe. You’re gonna give yourself a damn aneurysm.”

Dustin sucked in a sharp breath and forced himself to exhale. “Okay. Okay. But I just— I really didn’t mean to rat you out, man. It just happened.”

Eddie waved a dismissive hand. “Yeah, I get it. And I forgive you.”

Dustin blinked. “You do?”

“Of course, you little weasel.” Eddie smirked, nudging Dustin’s shoulder. “You are the future face of this club once I get the hell out of here. Besides… me and Y/N are done.”

“Whew, I’m so glad you said that,” Dustin blurted out, bending down to scoop up a few stray dice from the floor.

Eddie, mid-step, suddenly froze.

His grip tightened around the throne chair he was carrying, knuckles whitening. Slowly, he set it down with an audible thunk before turning toward Dustin, eyebrows pinching together.

“…What do you mean by that?”

Dustin stiffened. His big mouth was really gonna get him killed one of these days. Maybe he should invest in some duct tape. Heavy-duty. Industrial strength.

“N-nothing,” he said, voice cracking slightly as Eddie took a slow, deliberate step forward.

Eddie crossed his arms, expression unreadable. “Henderson,” he drawled, tilting his head. “You sure there’s nothing you wanna share with the class?”

“No…” Dustin tried, voice weak, but the way Eddie’s eyes darkened made his resolve crumble almost instantly.

“Henderson,” Eddie warned, his tone low and edged with suspicion.

Dustin groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Fine! But promise you won’t lose your shit, alright?”

Eddie didn’t respond—just crossed his arms and gave Dustin a look that made it very clear he was waiting.

Dustin swallowed hard. “Look… it might be nothing—probably is!—but I saw Y/N and Ross hanging out together at the library.”

“Who the hell is Ross?” Eddie scoffed, brows knitting together.

Dustin blinked at him. “You know—big basketball dude that’s been after Y/N since sophomore year?”

Eddie’s expression shifted. Oh. That Ross.

The guy who was always lurking, always tossing compliments Y/N’s way like he was entitled to her attention. Eddie had caught him staring at her more times than he could count, eyes lingering a little too long, his interest just subtle enough to not get called out for it.

And now Y/N was hanging out with him? After Eddie specifically made it clear he couldn’t stand the guy?

She was doing this on purpose.

A sharp, hot coil of jealousy twisted in Eddie’s gut, crawling up his spine like a live wire. His jaw clenched so hard it ached.

“Close up when you’re done,” he snapped, slamming the room keys onto the table with a clatter.

“Eddie! Eddie, wait—where are you going? Shit!” Dustin fumbled to grab his things, scrambling after him.

“Forgot my drumsticks…” Gareth mumbled as he stepped into the theater room—only to be nearly knocked off balance as Eddie shoved past him without a word.

Gareth turned, watching Eddie storm off with a deep frown. “Jesus, what’s up with him?”

“No time to explain—just go after him! He’s about to do something really stupid!” Dustin said in a panic, snatching Gareth’s drumsticks off a nearby chair and shoving them into his chest before practically dragging him out the door.

With a quick turn of the key, Dustin locked up the room behind them, then bolted after Eddie, Gareth right on his heels.

They didn’t have to guess where he was headed.

Straight toward the gym.

⭒ ⭒ ⭒

“Alright, ladies, take five!” Chrissy called out, clapping her hands.

As the cheerleaders broke formation, Chrissy let out a squeal when Jason snuck up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Looked like the basketball team was on a break, too.

You reached into your bag, pulling out your water bottle just as a familiar figure approached—Ross, looking just a little too shy for a guy who spent most of his time dominating the court.

“Hey,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Hi,” you replied, taking a sip of your water. His cheeks were already turning red, and you had a feeling it wasn’t just from practice.

“You, uh… you looked great! I-I mean, the dance is coming along great!” He corrected himself quickly, clearing his throat.

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Why, thank you.”

Ross scoffed, shaking his head. “Wow, not even gonna compliment me back?”

Feigning an exaggerated eye roll, you sighed dramatically. “Fine, I guess you were alright out there, tossing balls into baskets or whatever.”

His laughter was warm, and the way his eyes lit up made it clear he was enjoying this exchange just as much as you were.

“It’s not as easy as it looks, you know,” Ross said, crossing his arms with a smirk. “I’d like to see you try shooting from the free-throw line.”

You raised a brow, matching his energy. “Maybe I will. Give me a ball.”

Ross chuckled but didn’t hesitate to grab one from the basket, spinning it in his hands before passing it to you. As you stepped onto the court, he stood beside you, arms resting on his hips.

“Alright, hot shot. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“Careful, Ross,” you teased, bouncing the ball a few times. “I might just take your spot on the team.”

He laughed. “Ohhh-kay. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

With that, you took a deep breath, lined up your shot, and let the ball sail through the air. For a second, you thought it was going to miss—but then, swish! It dropped straight through the hoop.

Your eyes widened in shock before excitement took over. “Holy shit!”

Ross threw his hands up. “No way! First try?”

A small crowd that had gathered on the sidelines started cheering, and before you could even think, you jumped into Ross’s arms. He caught you with ease, spinning you around in celebration.

“Alright, maybe I should be worried about my spot,” he joked, grinning as he set you back down.

You laughed breathlessly, your heart still racing—maybe from the shot, maybe from the way Ross was looking at you.

You wrapped your arms around Ross’s neck as he held you tightly, his warmth momentarily making you forget everything else.

“I hope you’re not too bummed,” you teased, a playful grin tugging at your lips.

Ross just looked at you, his brown eyes filled with something softer. “Wouldn’t have picked a better replacement than you.”

You both smiled, caught in the moment, and for a brief second, the weight of the past few days lifted. The fight with Steve. The blowout with Eddie. The confusion swirling inside you. It all faded into the background—until the gym doors slammed open, shattering your peace like a gunshot.

The echo of the impact made everyone’s heads turn. Your stomach twisted into knots the second your eyes landed on Eddie.

Ross immediately let go of you, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he took a step forward, standing beside you like a silent wall of defense. His posture was relaxed, but the tension rolling off him said otherwise.

Your gaze flickered to Dustin, who stood frozen in the doorway, looking guilty as hell. He caught your eyes and winced, a silent apology written all over his face.

“Eddie, let’s go, man.” Gareth’s voice was tight with unease. He grabbed Eddie’s arm, but Eddie yanked it away without looking at him.

Eddie’s attention was locked on you, his dark eyes filled with something unreadable—rage, hurt, jealousy? Maybe all three. He stepped closer, ignoring Gareth’s plea and Ross’s warning stare.

“That was fast,” he sneered, his voice dripping with venom. “Didn’t even give it a full day before throwing yourself at the next guy that gives you a little attention.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You were always desperate for it, weren’t you?”

The air in the gym turned suffocating. Eyes darted between you, Ross, and Eddie, waiting for the next explosion.

Eddie leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a mocking whisper. “That’s why you’re making yourself so available for this prick, right?”

Ross’s fists clenched at his sides. Your heart pounded.

This wasn’t just a scene anymore. This was a fight waiting to happen.

“Eddie, not now,” you said through clenched teeth, your voice low, warning.

But Eddie just tilted his head, a cruel smirk curling at the edges of his lips. He was enjoying this—watching you squirm, pushing you into a corner.

“Why not?” he taunted. “Embarrassed? Afraid I’ll tell Ross all about our little secret meetings? How you’d cry and beg for me to fuck the shit out of you?”

A sharp breath caught in your throat. Your entire body stiffened.

The weight of Ross’s stare burned into the side of your face, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. Shame curled in your chest, spreading like wildfire. Your cheeks felt hot, your eyes stinging with unshed tears.

Ross exhaled sharply, his voice steady but edged with warning. “Hey, man. Whatever you had with Y/N in the past—that’s none of my business.”

Eddie let out a low, humorless chuckle. Then he stepped closer, closing the distance between you three, eyes locked on Ross like a predator sizing up his competition.

“Not the past, my guy,” Eddie said. He tilted his head, watching the way Ross tensed. “Literally this week.”

“Regardless,” Ross continued, his voice firm, unwavering, “it’s over. You can be mad all you want, but what you’re not gonna do is stand here and call her a—”

“A slut?” Eddie cut in, his voice cold. “Because that’s what she is. And that’s what she’s always gonna be.”

Before you could even react, Ross lunged. His hands twisted into Eddie’s shirt, yanking him forward until they were chest to chest.

“I’m warning you,” Ross ground out, his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might shatter. “You leave her the hell alone, or we’re seriously gonna have a problem.”

Eddie didn’t flinch. He just smirked, a sick amusement flashing in his eyes as he wrenched himself free and shoved Ross back, hard.

By now, Jason had stormed over, grabbing Ross before he could retaliate, while Gareth struggled to hold Eddie in place.

“Hit me,” Eddie taunted, his voice low and lethal. “Go ahead. See what happens.”

Your breath hitched, the overwhelming weight of everything crashing down on you at once. You barely registered Chrissy’s gentle touch on your arm, barely heard her soft, reassuring voice as she led you out of the gym, away from the chaos.

“I hate him! I fucking hate him!” The words tore from your throat, raw and shaking.

“I know, honey. I know.” Chrissy’s voice was soft, soothing, as she wrapped her arms around you, holding you tight like she could physically keep you from falling apart.

The gym doors creaked open, and you stiffened. Heavy footsteps approached, stopping just a few feet away.

Ross.

Even without looking, you could feel his presence, the concern radiating off of him. He hesitated before stepping closer. “Where’s Eddie?” Chrissy asked.

“Asshole left through the back door.”

Chrissy muttered something under her breath before pulling back to cup your face gently. “I’m gonna go cancel practice, okay? You get on home and relax.”

You nodded, hurriedly wiping at your damp cheeks, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to look at Ross. The embarrassment, the shame—it was all too fresh, too raw.

Chrissy gave your hand one last reassuring squeeze before disappearing back into the gym, leaving just the two of you.

A heavy silence settled between you. Then, finally, Ross spoke, his voice softer than you expected.

“You okay?”

You swallowed hard, but the lump in your throat remained.

You weren’t. But you didn’t know how to say that.

“You don’t have to pretend like you care.” Your voice wavered, but you forced yourself to sound firm, to push him away before he could do it first.

Ross’s brows knit together in confusion. “What? I’m not pretending.”

“Oh, come on!” Your frustration boiled over, mixing with the lingering humiliation Eddie had left behind. “You’re really gonna stand there and act like you don’t feel disgusted after what he said? After he told you what I’ve done?” Your voice cracked, but you pushed through. “I’m all used up!”

“Stop talking like that about yourself!” Ross’s voice was sharp, but his eyes—God, his eyes—were filled with something else entirely. Not pity. Not judgment. Just… care.

You turned away, swallowing hard. “Just leave me alone, Ross.”

You barely took a step before he caught your wrist, pulling you toward him. Before you could protest, his arms wrapped around you, solid and warm. The dam inside you broke.

You buried your face in his chest, fists clenching his hoodie as the sobs wracked through you. His hand moved to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, soothing, anchoring.

“I don’t care what that freak said,” Ross murmured, his voice firm but gentle. “You’re not disgusting, alright? You’re perfect to me.”

Your breath hitched, but the warmth of his words seeped into the cracks Eddie had left.

You stayed there, pressed against him, letting the world fade away until your breathing evened out. Until the weight on your chest wasn’t so suffocating.

Then, without a word, Ross led you to his car and drove you home.

⭒ ⭒ ⭒

The landline wouldn’t stop ringing. Over and over, the shrill sound pierced through the silence of your room, each ring grating on your already raw nerves. You tried to ignore it, but after what felt like an eternity, frustration won out.

You snatched up the receiver. “Stop calling, asshole! I want nothing to do with you anymore, do you hear me? Nothing!”

A beat of silence. Then, his voice—low, pleading.

“Baby—”

You slammed the phone down before he could say another word. Your heart pounded in your chest, anger and something dangerously close to heartbreak intertwining.

A few seconds later, it rang again. You didn’t hesitate this time, yanking the plug from the wall with a sharp tug.

Steve passed by your room just as you threw the cord aside. You met his gaze, silently daring him to say something, anything. To yell at you, to scold you, to tell you that Eddie wasn’t worth your tears. But he just looked away, his expression unreadable, and walked out. The door clicked shut behind him, painfully quiet.

You exhaled shakily, your body sagging as you slid down to the floor, pressing your back against the bed. Your hands covered your face as the weight of it all came crashing down.

You missed how things used to be. Before Eddie turned into a complete asshole. Before your brother started acting like you didn’t exist. Before everything fell apart.

But it was too late now.

Desperate for any kind of relief, you ran a hot bath and sank into the water, letting the steam curl around you. The heat burned at first, but you welcomed it, hoping it would somehow melt away the ache in your chest. You weren’t sure how long you sat there, staring at the ceiling, lost in the storm of your own thoughts.

Then—a sound.

A rustle just outside the bathroom door.

Your breath hitched. The water stilled around you.

You sat up, heart pounding, listening.

Someone was there.

“Steve?”

Silence.

The moment the name left your lips, you cursed yourself. Steve left for work, dumbass. There was no way it was him.

Your pulse quickened as you listened, straining to hear past the faint dripping of water from your bath. The house was quiet—too quiet.

Slowly, you stepped out of the tub, wrapping a towel around your damp body. Your skin was still warm from the bath, but a chill ran down your spine as you cracked the bathroom door open an inch. The hallway was cloaked in darkness. How long had you been soaking in the water? It had been daylight when you got in, but now the house felt… different.

Swallowing hard, you stepped out, bare feet making no sound against the floor as you tiptoed forward. You peeked into each darkened room, holding your breath with every glance.

Living room—empty.
Kitchen—nothing.
Steve’s room—just as he left it.

That only left your room.

Your fingers tightened around the towel as you slipped inside Steve’s room, grabbing a mini statue from his dresser—a solid, weighted thing, cold in your grip. If someone was in your house, you weren’t going down without a fight.

You moved cautiously toward your bedroom door, pressing your back to the wall before slowly pushing it open. Your heart pounded as your eyes scanned the space. At first, you didn’t see anything. But then—

A shadow. Crouched by the window.

Adrenaline surged through you. You gritted your teeth, raised the statue, and prepared to swing—

“Woah, woah, woah! I’m not an intruder!”

The figure’s hands shot up in surrender. The voice—familiar, frantic.

Your breath caught. You knew that voice.

With shaking hands, you flicked on the light.

There, huddled by your window like a goddamn criminal, was Eddie.

[thatfeelinwhenyou]

HANDS ON YOU — lee heeseung

IN WHICH; I-LAND 2 happened and you debuted first place as the leader of LUMIÈRE. Having been told that your group is involved in a lore crossover with ENHYPEN, you navigate work, friendship, and love while trying to make it in an industry filled with animosity and condemnation. When life throws you lemons, you gotta make lemonades chuck it right back!

pairing: idol!heeseung x idol!fem!reader

genre: smau, strangers to lovers, celebrity x celebrity, fluff, don’t let the first part of the smau fool you i swear it’s full on angst towards the end, slowest of the slow burns…

warnings: contains profanities, horrible humour, kys/kms jokes, sexual innuendos, spelling errors, incorrect timestamps, probably some cringe-worthy moments, cyberbullying, racist and misogynistic comments made about reader, death threats, mentions/depictions of overworking, insomnia, eating disorders, not proofread etc. (i am not in anyway romanticising, encouraging or condoning the usage of these topics. purely for the plot and development of the story.)

status: completed! (04/06/2023 – 08/08/2023)

notes from nat: don't read this. i cringe everytime I think about it. i was stupid. but if you decide to go through with it, i must warn you that the timestamps are really all over the place, so DO NOT pay attention to them until stated. the content and depiction of the characters in this smau do not in anyway represent them in real life. chapters with ‘(hw)’ next to them indicates that they are half-written, in case y’all accidentally skip over it! last but not least, if you do end up enjoying it please like, comment (absolutely love reading comments!), and reblog! p.s this was written way before the actual airing of I-LAND 2 and not meant to be connected with the real show/contestants in any way. this was also before i found out you can actually put more than 10 photos in one post 🤡

tags: #tfwy handsonyou

prologue - introducing LUMIÈRE part 1 | part 2

profile. one | two

chapter 1 - number 1 hater

chapter 2 - infant

chapter 3 - #prayersformarklee ✊🤞

chapter 4 - dog-eater…? (hw)

chapter 5 - breaking records(?)

chapter 6 - still employed!

chapter 7 - bad publicity is still publicity

chapter 8 - to hee or not to hee

chapter 9 - the heist

chapter 10 - trigger warning

chapter 11 - soompitydimpity

chapter 12 - chronic insomnia

chapter 13 - to hee after all

chapter 14 - wild pokémon heeseungie

chapter 15 - artists

chapter 16 - that should be me

chapter 17 - bills

chapter 18 - the elephant in the room (hw)

chapter 19 - if you let me

chapter 20 - trouble? travel! (hw)

chapter 21 - caught in a lie

chapter 22 - always on your side

chapter 23 - princess syndrome

chapter 24 - you (hw)

chapter 25 - golden thread

chapter 26 - way back home (hw)

chapter 27 - uh oh…

chapter 28 - fight or flight

chapter 29 - close friends

chapter 30 - paradoxx invasion

chapter 31 - ramen

chapter 32 - 080923 (hw)

chapter 33 - driver

chapter 34 - demure and honest

chapter 35 - p-platonic?!?

chapter 36 - friends don’t look at friends that way

chapter 37 - bungeoppang

chapter 38 - back to the way things were..?

chapter 39 - wheel of fortune

chapter 40 - i miss holding your hand (hw)

chapter 41 - sooha (real)

chapter 42 - rizzseung

chapter 43 - project luminescence

chapter 44 - i will go to you like the first snow (hw)

chapter 45 - it’s awfully quiet…

chapter 46 - jake pick me era?

chapter 47 - my life without you is a misery

chapter 48 - your honour, i’m innocent

chapter 49 - breaking my silence

chapter 50 - he’s being exploited!

chapter 51 (finale) - number 1 fan (hw)

epilogue - forever ruined by you

bonus chapter!

the exes talk

Copyright© 2023 thatfeelinwhenyou All Rights Reserved

[steviewashere]

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Rating: Teen and Up Pairing: Steve Harrington & Wayne Munson, Pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson CW: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse (Not Graphic But Prevalent), Referenced Period Typical Homophobic Slur(s), Referenced Drug Use (Recreational Use of Marijuana) Tags: Post-Canon, Post Vecna, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Wayne Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Wayne Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Good Parent Wayne Munson, Steve Harrington has Bad Parents, Coming Out, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Steve Harrington Gets a Hug, Pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Al Munson is a Bad Person

Read the content warning!!

🫂—————🫂 He knows the person he wants isn’t home. But Steve can’t afford to stall any longer. If he continues to wait out in his car, it’ll probably be towed, and he’ll be arrested, and he won’t have the person he needs to bail him out. It’s not like he can just turn the car around, though; make his way back home.

Home doesn’t even exist anymore. It took one night where he thought he was alone, because he was always alone, for them to come back and see him. See him with another boy. Not experimenting, because he knows damn well who he is. But making semblance of love, because he’s been desperate enough for it his entire like. Now that he had it, or something as close to it as he can get from a late night cruising pull, it’s even farther away.

Yeah, maybe he should’ve rain checked. Maybe he should’ve bought out a motel room for the night. Maybe he should’ve just entertained himself with his own hand and the wrinkled magazines that Eddie smuggled for him.

Speaking of Eddie, he’s not here. His government replaced van isn’t parked outside the new Munson’s trailer. Only Wayne’s is. And he’s not sure if he’s ready to face another adult. He is an adult, he knows this, but sitting behind the big wheel of his car—his hands look like they belong to a child and looking at himself in the rearview mirror, it’s like matching gazes with ten year old him; wide-eyed, afraid, and forced against his will.

He is afraid. And maybe he should just let himself feel that. But he doesn’t have the time or the energy or the gall. So he shuts his engine off, hauls an old duffel bag over his shoulder, and makes the arduous journey that is the thirty second walk up the front steps.

Knocking, he swallows his pride. Every part of him is lost and disorganized. He didn’t style his hair. And he couldn’t grab his belt from where it had been kicked under his bed in panic. His shoes are untied. There’s also a large hickey at the base of his neck, unhidden by the stretched collar of some ratty maroon t-shirt he thought he tossed years ago. It’s stark against him in the reflection of the nearest window. He can also catch the dark bruises left on his biceps—grabbed by his dad when he tried to make an initial escape. Maybe he should’ve risked the arrest.

The doors open rather quickly, though. And through the screen, a plume of smoke pools over him from—what smells like—a stale joint. Wayne Munson stands on the other side with tired eyes and a pinched mouth. He’s dressed down in flannel pajamas and has that joint between his fingers. All his movements are slow as he takes Steve in.

“Eddie’s not home right now,” he states instead of offering a greeting. “Is there something I can do you for?” His eyes dip low from Steve’s. Following down the stretch of his neck, where it’s tense and rigid, over that hickey. Pauses momentarily. And then continues to look around, over, down—right up until he notes the bruises on Steve’s arms. “You…Uh…You making a runaway from a bad date, kid?”

Steve swallows. It stings a bit, though not from the hickey. When he closes his eyes to gather his words, he can almost feel the hand around his throat—the wedding ring cold over his wanted bruise, but the red hot spray of spit over his forehead. All as he cowered against his bedroom wall, tense to the floor he stood on, praying that his dad would make it quick.

He’s shaking, he knows. Trembling something minute that, hopefully, Wayne won’t pick up on. “Good evening, Mr. Munson,” Steve greets quietly, voice quaking. “I—I’m sorry to intrude, but I don’t know…There’s nowhere else I can go right now.” He peels his eyes open and peeks up through the screen door. Wayne’s eyes are the size of saucers when they lock stares. He hefts the bag over his shoulder higher, there’s a warm ache through his upper back. Slammed against the wall; remember, he reminds himself.

The screen opens wide and Wayne gestures over to the couch. “Leave your stuff by the door, kid.”

He steps through, plops his bag by the small breakfast nook, and chucks his sneakers to mingle with the pile. Then, he just stands in the doorway. Wayne’s off of his right shoulder. Towering over him a bit, but warm and solid. Steve knows he doesn’t have to be afraid, yet something in him skitters when Wayne’s left hand rests gently on his lower back. “Have a seat,” Wayne murmurs, “you’re shaking like a leaf.”

Acknowledging, without words to say, Steve nods. He shuffles over to the sofa and sits on the farthest cushion on the right, where he tends to settle when he comes over.

“You eat?” Wayne asks.

“No,” Steve mutters, “my dad didn’t give me enough time.”

“You like pepperoni on your pizza?”

Steve nods. “Anything except mushrooms, sir.”

“Wayne,” he says softly over his shoulder, “that’s my name and you wear it out all you like. I ain’t your daddy.” Steve just grunts in response, watching warily as Wayne orders them some food.

When he’s done, Wayne faces him again, leaning against the edge of the dining table. His joint has long since been put out, resting warm in the ashtray on the same table. Steve leans forward on his cushion, hands dropped between his knees. His hair falls limp in front of his eyes, but he doesn’t care. Nothing matters now, does it?

“I’ll only be here a night, promise.” His shoulders hunch inwards. That ache back and persistent. And he knows wherever he sleeps, be it on the floor or the sofa or even in the grass outside, he’ll just wake up hurt. More than just physically. “I know that there really isn’t space for me here and I…I don’t know. I’m not expecting you to take me in just because I get myself in messes.”

For a moment, the room stretches with silence. Going diagonal with the former words.

Then, Wayne takes a deep breath. Shuffles over to a dining chair. And plops down, watching. “You mind telling me what happened?” He asks gruffly, though not pessimistically. “If you’re in trouble, I can only let you stay here a night.”

“Depends on what you view as trouble, Wayne.”

Wayne narrows his eyes, twisting his mouth. His left hand rests on the surface of the table, fingers stretched towards the ashtray and the discarded lighter next to it. “Illegal shit. Anything that gets you in trouble with that Powell bastard. Not including weed. That’d make me a hypocrite, and that’s one thing I ain’t.”

Again, Steve nods his agreement, the acknowledgement. He fidgets with the tips of his fingers. Nails digging into the fatty parts, turning them white with pressure. “I didn’t do anything illegal, swear. Just did something stupid.” Warily once more, he eyes Wayne. “How do you feel about Reagan?”

“That man can rot in hell for all I care.”

He chuckles, despite everything. Then, he takes a sobering breath. “I had a…I picked up a boy tonight. Because I wanted to have—We were going to have sex, to put it simply, Mr. Munson. And I took him to my room, thinking I’d be alone for the rest of the night…”

“And you weren’t,” Wayne states, not asking. What questions need to be asked to an admittance like that? Steve nods, mouth pinched and eyes shiny. “I’m guessing your folks came home.”

“Yeah,” Steve whispers just loud enough to be heard. “I must’ve made a…noise loud enough to be heard downstairs. And my dad had just come home. And he…maybe the boy also made a noise, I don’t know. But one thing came after the other, and the next thing I knew my dad had gripped me on my arms and threw me against the wall and I thought he was going to kill me dead right in my own room and he was spitting about…he called me a-a fag and a fairy and I…

“I didn’t fight back. I didn’t speak. I was so scared. I am scared, Wayne,” Steve admits, voice trembling and his nose burning. “All I could do was take it.”

Carefully, Wayne extracts himself from his seat and situates himself on the coffee table. Right in front of Steve. “Where all did he hurt you, Steve?”

He swallows, remembering. “My arms,” he mutters, pointing, “and my neck and…he dropped me down on the ground and while I was reaching for my shirt, he got me on the ribs.” Narrowly, he misses Wayne’s furious gaze. Instead, he finds a shiny blank spot between mugs on the far wall. “He was so furious he didn’t even take his dress shoes off by the door,” he meekly states, “and he didn’t stop until my mom screamed at him to at least let me grab some of my stuff. She told him it wouldn’t be worth it, and I quote, ‘to murder our son.’ He told her that I wasn’t his, but he let me leave.” 

He’ll never thank his mom for that, but at least she granted him grace. Though, she didn’t look pleased either. Her face set and jaw clenched. He knows that if she had the chance, when he wasn’t in earshot, she would’ve said the exact same thing as his dad. Steve withers further at the thought, if that’s even possible.

“I’m just lucky that I’m not dead, right?” He adds a moment later, face wet with tears and throat thick with grief.

Wayne sharply inhales. “You’re safe here,” he says lowly, “just as Eddie is. You’ll forever be safe here, I promise you that.”

Steve’s eyes cut back to him. That ferocity in his gaze like a warm blanket over Steve’s shoulders, something he can cling onto and believe. “You know about him?”

“You’re not the first kid to run here from their daddy,” Wayne utters.

Something in Steve’s stomach twists slowly. His chest crackling with those words. Remembers when Eddie Munson was out of school for a week in eighth grade. When he came back: long sleeves in late May, hair shaved close to his scalp, heavy eyes, and new silver scars over his knuckles.

“I’m not…”

“Eddie would never cut his hair voluntarily,” Wayne states, voice grim.

Steve looks down at his lap, fingers picking nervously at each other. He murmurs, “I’m safe here,” but more of a reminder to himself. He’s not sure if he’s had a promised safety in years. All the stuff with Vecna and the Upside Down and now his dad—which never started with tonight; it had been growing to that, always something small like a slap to the wrist or a dull smack to the back of his head, but his life had never been almost choked out of him. He never feared, just always worried.

God, he always worried. And now here he is, trembling with his tail between his legs.

The silence stretches between them after that. Wayne gets up at some point to pay for the pizza, gather a couple plates, even relight his half-gone joint. And in the time it takes him to sit back down on the sofa with the food, Eddie comes back.

He tumbles through the door, a thousand words spilling out of him, coat hanging off of his elbows, and one shoe already stepped out of. He’s a whirlwind of movement and thing after another after another. But then he spots them on the couch; Wayne eating slowly and Steve curled nervously, face turned away from the door. “Aw man,” Eddie drawls. “Sharing pizza and weed without me? You guys always have all the fun when I’m not here.”

“Ed,” Wayne mutters, “we need to have a conversation, alright?”

Steve peers over, just as Eddie’s eyes widen.

“Did I…Is it something I did?” Eddie murmurs, voice falling meek. “Is everything okay?”

He can’t help but try to hide further. Flinching into himself, eyes closing on their own accord, cheeks flushed, and lips trembling. Tries to pinch the bridge of his nose, but he’s already opened the waterworks once tonight—they’re not going to close up again just from this. He looks to Wayne, eyes pleading for him to explain. He’s so tired of having to digest this, let alone regurgitate it.

“Come sit in my chair, Ed,” Wayne says, gesturing to the brown chair near the window. He waits until Eddie does what he’s told, sitting slowly and looking at them with his too big, concerned eyes. His eyebrows raise, even Steve can make that out through his blurry vision, waiting for some sort of explanation. “Okay, I need you to listen and not ask questions. No interruptions unless I ask you to respond, you got that?”

“Wh—Yeah, Wayne. I’m all ears; you’re freaking me out.”

Wayne nods gently, his left hand out in a placating manner. “You remember, I mean you most definitely do, but do you remember when you had to come here all those years ago?” He asks softly. Eddie acknowledges by nodding, nothing more. “Steve is going through something similar,” he explains gently, “and I’m letting him stay. If you want to know the specifics, that’s something that you’ll have to hear when Steve’s ready, got it?”

Eddie inhales slowly. His face gaining that same furious ferocity that Wayne’s had. But then he looks to Steve and all the hard features of his face soften. Back to something familiar and warm and homely. “Stevie?” He ventures. “You okay?”

He shrugs. Answers thickly, “I don’t know.” His cheeks wet with more tears and he roughly wipes them away with a shaking hand. “I don’t…I thought they loved me? Even just a little bit.”

Warmth crowds him as Wayne lays a firm arm over his upper back, hand wrapping around his right shoulder, just missing his bicep. “Eddie? Why don’t you clean up a bit in your room for his stuff? Get some new sheets on your mattress, too. Think he could use a sleepover, that alright?”

“Course,” Eddie answers almost instantly, voice soft and calm. “I’ll set out some pajamas, too, Stevie. You want a sweatshirt or a t-shirt?”

Steve sniffs and swallows heavily. “Sweatshirt, please.” 

Slowly and carefully, Eddie comes over towards the couch. He places a gentle hand on the back of Steve’s head. Thumb running up and down at the base of his skull. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “we’ve got you now, though.” And with that, Eddie retreats to his bedroom, the door clicking softly behind him. The rustle of things being moved around ever apparent through the thin wood.

Wayne clears his throat and pulls Steve in a little closer, tighter. He says close to Steve’s ear, “We love you here, you got that? You have no reason to hide yourself or sneak around or try and fit yourself in a box.”

He nods minutely. “M’kay,” he mutters, “I’ll try and find another place soon, I promise. I just don’t have the money—“

“Nonsense,” Wayne states steadfast, “this is your home now. And I won’t have it any other way.” He pulls back just enough to make them lock eyes again. The air smells of grease and weed and Irish Spring. Amber light flooding around them and dim enough to not hurt his head. Everything around him is soft, gentle. It feels like home. Wayne holds him by the shoulders, firm but not suffocating. “Don’t tell Eddie I said this,” he whispers, “but he doesn’t shut up about you. He’d kill me if I didn’t let you stay and I’d beat myself up about it. As long as you stay true and playful with my boy, then you’re my boy, too. You hear me?”

Steve’s eyes blur again and his nose stings and he wishes that he could stop crying, but this is nice. The warmth and the love and the tenderness. He could burn alive from it and still be grateful. It’s so much better than the lonely, cold sprawl of his parents’ house. A house he never thought he’d leave.

“I hear you,” he musters.

“Good,” Wayne murmurs. “Why don’t you go use up some of the hot water and take as long of a shower as you want? I’ll get your things into Eddie’s room and—don’t tell that Powell bastard at the station—but I’ll roll something for you, if you want it.”

Despite everything, Steve finds himself laughing from his belly and smiling enough to ache his cheeks. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees. “Warning, though, I’m really annoying when I’m high.”

“Then annoying you’ll be,” Wayne gets out around a chuckle. “And keep smiling, boy. You ain’t got a thing to worry or fear here. Even if your daddy comes running on over, I’ll make him leave just as fast with his tail between his legs, swear it.”

His smile relaxes to something soft, a ghost of a thing. He leans forward and hesitantly wraps his arms around Wayne, relishing in the hug that he gets in return. “Thank you,” he says, muffled into Wayne’s pajama shirt, “think you literally saved my life tonight.”

“You’re a good kid, Steve,” Wayne murmurs, “you’re always welcome in my home.”

He knows he’s crying again, a gentle and silent thing into Wayne’s shoulder. And yet, despite everything, he’s lighter.

Later, he tells Eddie all that happened and is held close, a hand in his hair and fingers tracing over his trembling shoulders. Later, Wayne will make a grand breakfast spread to celebrate new family. And even later, Wayne’ll crack a joke about no funny business while he’s sleeping. But Steve will know, through the tired and playful glint in Wayne’s eyes, he’s all too happy that Steve and Eddie figured themselves out.

For now, though, Wayne hands him a clean, soft towel. It’s dark green and well loved. And he knows, too, that his soul will eventually look just like that. And just like the towel, he soaks it all up. Including the warm, “Welcome home, son,” Wayne says before he closes the bathroom door.

🫂—————🫂

[honeyhaeya]

🧸baby it's cold outside - w. junhui❄

wen junhui x gn!reader

december with seventeen ! 4/13 tags: jun x reader, snowstorm au, domestic vibes, movie night, pining, slow burn, fluffy ending, reader insert, cozy romance, winter love genre: fluff, romance warnings: none. just soft, wholesome vibes and playful banter wc: 2859 a/n: OHMYGODDDD MOON JUNHUI IS THE CUTEST THIS MIGHT BE MY FAVORITE ONE SO FARRR AAAA 4/13 WHAT !! PLAY BABY IT'S COLD OUTSIDE BY MICHAEL BUBLE RN !!

it had started innocently enough — a movie night at junhui's apartment, nothing too out of the ordinary. you had bundled up in your thickest coat, determined to brave the snowy streets for a little midweek escape. when you arrived, junhui greeted you with his signature grin, the kind that made your heart skip in a way you didn't care to analyze too deeply.

"come in, come in, it's freezing out there," he said, ushering you inside before you could even finish stomping the snow off your boots. the warmth of his apartment was immediate and inviting, a stark contrast to the biting wind outside. it smelled like cinnamon, likely from the candles he always forgot to blow out.

"so," you began, shrugging off your coat, "what's the lineup tonight?"

junhui scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "uh, i kinda figured we'd just pick something. you know, depending on the vibe."

"the vibe?" you echoed, amused. "all right, let's set the vibe, then."

the two of you settled on some lighthearted rom-com, the kind neither of you would remember the plot of by the end of the night. but it didn't matter. junhui handed you a steaming mug of hot chocolate, and as the snowstorm picked up outside, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment settle over you.

"you're really gonna head back out in this?" junhui asked after a while, nodding toward the window. the snow was falling harder now, blanketing the streets in a thick, sparkling layer.

"probably," you replied, though your resolve was already weakening. "i can't exactly stay the night, jun."

"why not?" he countered, his tone light but his eyes holding a glint of something more. "it's cold, it's dangerous, and..." he trailed off, lips quirking up in a playful smirk. "i make a pretty great breakfast, you know."

you rolled your eyes, though the corners of your mouth betrayed you with a smile. "junhui, i'll be fine. it's just snow."

"just snow?" he feigned offense, clutching his chest dramatically. "you wound me. have you even seen how bad it's getting out there?"

as if on cue, the wind howled, rattling the windows. you glanced outside and frowned. okay, maybe it was a little worse than you'd thought. but staying over? that was a line you weren't sure you were ready to cross.

"seriously, it's fine," junhui said, his voice softer now. "i have an extra blanket, the couch is super comfy. or," he added with a teasing grin, "you could always just share the bed with me."

"in your dreams," you shot back, tossing a pillow at him.

"hey, i'm just saying," he laughed, catching it easily. "the option's there."

the movie continued, but you found it harder to focus. junhui's presence was too distracting — the way his arm rested casually along the back of the couch, how he leaned closer whenever he made a joke, the sound of his laugh when you couldn't help but laugh with him. it all felt too easy, too natural, and it scared you just a little.

"i guess i could stay for a little while longer," you conceded eventually, the words tasting sweeter than they should have. junhui's smile in response was almost enough to make you forget the snowstorm entirely.

"that's the spirit," he said, nudging your shoulder lightly. "but just so you know, i'm totally winning you over with my amazing hospitality."

"we'll see about that," you replied, though you both knew the truth. he already had.

junhui grinned, setting down his mug on the coffee table as he turned to face you. "so," he began, eyes glinting mischievously, "since you're staying a little longer, what should we do next?"

"you mean besides watch the movie we both stopped paying attention to?" you replied, raising an eyebrow.

"oh, come on," junhui said, shifting closer. "it's not even that good. besides, i've got a better idea."

before you could ask what he meant, a pillow collided softly with your shoulder. you blinked, stunned for a moment, before narrowing your eyes at him. "did you just..."

"hey, you looked like you needed a little excitement," junhui said, holding up another pillow with a mock-innocent expression. "so, what's it gonna be? surrender, or fight back?"

"junhui," you warned, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

"no escape now," he teased, tossing the second pillow your way. you caught it midair, the determination in your eyes making him laugh. "oh, you're gonna regret that," you said, clutching the pillow tightly.

and then it was chaos.

you swung the pillow, narrowly missing his head as he ducked and retaliated with a gentle thwack to your side. feathers flew as the cushions on the couch became collateral damage, and the sound of laughter filled the room. junhui was quick on his feet, darting behind the couch for cover, but you were relentless, launching an ambush that had him yelping in surprise.

"alright, alright! truce!" he called out, raising his hands in mock surrender as you advanced, pillow in hand.

"that's what i thought," you said triumphantly, lowering your weapon. but the moment you turned your back, junhui struck again, the soft impact of the pillow catching you off guard.

"you're the worst!" you exclaimed, spinning around to chase him as he laughed, doubling over and barely dodging your swings.

"okay, okay, now i'm really calling a truce," he said, collapsing onto the couch with his hands up. you eyed him suspiciously but couldn't suppress the grin spreading across your face.

"you better not be lying," you said, plopping down next to him, breathless from the impromptu battle. your hair was slightly mussed, and junhui reached out, gently brushing away a stray feather clinging to your sweater.

"you're cute when you're mad," he said, his voice softer now, the teasing tone replaced with something warmer.

"and you're insufferable," you replied, though there was no real bite to your words. the room felt quieter now, the only sounds the muffled wind outside and the distant hum of the movie credits rolling.

junhui's gaze lingered on you, his expression softening. "but you're staying, right?" he asked, almost hesitant.

you smiled, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. "yeah, i'm staying."

junhui let out a soft laugh, leaning back against the couch as you both caught your breath from the pillow fight. his cheeks were tinged pink, though you couldn't tell if it was from the exertion or something else entirely. the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled made your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, you forgot about the snowstorm outside.

"you're really something else," junhui murmured, his voice low and fond.

"what's that supposed to mean?" you asked, turning to face him.

he shrugged, his expression softening. "just... you. you're always so much fun to be around. even when you're pelting me with pillows."

"well, someone had to keep you in check," you teased, but your voice wavered slightly under the weight of his gaze. there was something different about the way he was looking at you now, something that made your stomach flip.

"you know," junhui said, shifting closer, "i kind of wish every night could be like this."

you blinked, your heart racing as his words hung in the air. "jun, what are you..."

he reached out hesitantly, his fingers brushing against yours where they rested on the couch. "stay," he said softly. "not just because of the snow. stay because... i like having you here. with me."

you felt your cheeks heat up, your breath catching in your throat. "junhui..."

he gave you a small, nervous smile. "i'm serious. you've always been special to me, you know? and i don't think i can keep pretending it's just nothing."

you searched his face, your chest tightening at the sincerity in his eyes. for all his teasing and playful antics, junhui had always had a way of catching you off guard when it mattered most.

"you're really bad at keeping secrets, you know that?" you said finally, your voice trembling just enough to betray your own feelings.

"is that a yes?" he asked, his lips curving into the softest smile you'd ever seen.

you didn't answer right away, instead leaning forward to press your forehead against his. "maybe," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

junhui chuckled, his breath warm against your skin. "i'll take it."

the space between you seemed to disappear in an instant, and before you could second-guess yourself, you closed the distance, your lips brushing his in a kiss that was as soft as it was certain. junhui's hand came up to cup your cheek, his touch gentle as though he was afraid you'd vanish if he held on too tightly.

when you finally pulled back, your heart was pounding, and junhui was looking at you like you'd hung the stars in the sky.

"so," he said, his voice teasing but still laced with affection, "is that enough to convince you to stay?"

"maybe," you replied, grinning. "but only if you make good on that amazing breakfast you promised."

"deal," junhui said, pulling you closer until you were nestled against his side. outside, the snowstorm continued to rage, but in that moment, neither of you cared. all that mattered was the warmth between you and the feeling that this was exactly where you were meant to be.

"you’re really staying, huh?" he murmured, resting his chin lightly on top of your head.

"i guess so," you replied, the words soft and playful, though your heart was racing at how natural this all felt. "but only because the snow forced me."

"yeah, yeah, blame the snow," junhui teased, tilting his head to look down at you. "you just wanted an excuse to hang out with me longer, admit it."

you rolled your eyes, poking his side gently. "you’re delusional."

"uh-huh," he said, grinning. "but you’re still here, so what does that say about you?"

you didn’t answer, just leaned into him a little more, letting the warmth between you grow. after a moment of comfortable silence, junhui shifted, reaching for one of the fallen pillows.

"what are you doing now?" you asked, watching as he fluffed the pillow and set it against the armrest of the couch.

"making sure you’re comfy," he said simply, motioning for you to lie down.

"you’re ridiculous," you said, but you obliged anyway, settling against the pillow with a sigh. junhui stretched out beside you, draping the blanket over both of you as he adjusted to face you.

"see? this is nice," he said, his voice softer now, his hand resting lightly on your arm.

you looked at him, the flickering light from the television casting shadows across his features. his eyes were warm, his expression uncharacteristically tender. for a moment, you forgot to breathe.

"what are you staring at?" he asked, his lips curving into a small smile.

"nothing," you replied quickly, though the blush creeping up your neck betrayed you.

junhui chuckled, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. "you’re really bad at hiding things, you know that?"

"and you’re really annoying," you shot back, though there was no heat in your words.

"but you like me anyway," he said, his voice teasing but with an edge of sincerity that made your heart ache in the best way.

you didn’t deny it this time, instead letting your hand find his under the blanket. his fingers laced with yours effortlessly, the simple gesture sending a rush of warmth through you.

"hey," junhui said after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper.

"what?" you asked, your eyes meeting his.

"do you think it’s weird that this feels... easy? like we’ve done this a million times before?"

you hesitated, the vulnerability in his question catching you off guard. "no," you said finally. "i don’t think it’s weird. i think it’s nice."

junhui smiled, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. "yeah," he agreed. "it is."

the silence that followed wasn’t awkward or heavy; it was the kind of silence that felt full, like it carried all the things you both wanted to say but didn’t need to. you stayed like that for a while, your hands entwined, the snowstorm outside a distant memory.

eventually, junhui shifted closer, his free arm wrapping around you in a way that felt both protective and comforting. "you know," he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple, "if this is what snowstorms lead to, i kind of hope it never stops snowing."

you laughed softly, resting your head against his chest. "you’re such a sap."

"only for you," he said, the words coming so naturally that they took your breath away.

you tilted your head to look up at him, your nose brushing against his. his gaze flickered to your lips, and before you could overthink it, he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was somehow even softer, even sweeter than the first.

his hand came up to cradle your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he kissed you with a tenderness that made your heart swell. it wasn’t rushed or frantic; it was deliberate, like he wanted to savor every second, every touch.

when you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested together, your breaths mingling in the small space between you. junhui’s eyes searched yours, his expression a mix of awe and affection.

"so," he said, his voice low and a little breathless, "still thinking about braving the snow?"

"not a chance," you replied, your smile matching his.

"good," he said, pulling you impossibly closer. "because i don’t think i’m ready to let you go yet."

“Okay, so what’s this ‘amazing breakfast’ I apparently promised?” Junhui asked, pulling the blanket draped over the couch to wrap around both of you. His arm slipped naturally around your shoulders, and you found yourself leaning into him without a second thought.

“Well, you’re the one who brought it up,” you teased, resting your head against his chest. “So I’m expecting, at the very least, pancakes. With chocolate chips. And maybe strawberries.”

“Oh, so we’re setting the bar that high, huh?” he chuckled, his fingers absentmindedly playing with a loose strand of your hair. “Do you want a five-course meal while I’m at it? Perhaps a personalized coffee art of your face?”

“I mean, if you’re offering…” you quipped, glancing up at him with a mischievous grin.

Junhui sighed dramatically, resting his chin on the top of your head. “You’re lucky you’re cute. But fine, pancakes it is. I’ll even break out the fancy syrup.”

“Fancy syrup? Oh, wow. You really are pulling out all the stops,” you said, laughing softly. The sound of his heartbeat beneath your ear was comforting, steady, and it made the world outside feel a little smaller and a lot less cold.

“You deserve it,” Junhui said, his voice quieter now, softer. You tilted your head to look at him, and the sincerity in his eyes made your chest tighten all over again.

“You’re really sweet, you know that?” you murmured, your fingers curling around the fabric of his sweater.

Junhui shrugged, a small, shy smile tugging at his lips. “Only for you.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that wrapped around you like the warmth of the blanket you were sharing—a silence filled with unspoken thoughts and emotions that didn’t need to be said aloud.

After a moment, Junhui shifted, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You know,” he started, his tone playful but with a hint of something deeper, “if you stayed over more often, I could make you breakfast all the time. Just saying.”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly to look at him. “Are you trying to trick me into spending more nights here?”

“Is it working?” he asked, grinning.

“Hmm… maybe,” you replied, pretending to think it over. “Depends on how good these pancakes are.”

Junhui laughed, shaking his head. “I’m doomed. One burnt pancake, and you’ll never let me live it down, huh?”

“Correct,” you said, poking his side.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, the snowstorm outside forgotten as you basked in each other’s company. Eventually, Junhui tugged you closer, his hand finding yours beneath the blanket.

“I meant what I said earlier, you know,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand.

You glanced at him, your expression softening. “About what?”

“About wishing every night could be like this,” he admitted, his gaze earnest. “I don’t just mean tonight. I mean… you. I want more nights like this. More mornings, too. I don’t think I’d ever get tired of having you around.”

His words made your heart do somersaults, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the right words to respond. Instead, you leaned up to kiss him again, letting your actions speak louder than anything you could say.

When you pulled away, Junhui’s cheeks were flushed, and he was grinning like he’d just won the lottery. “So… is that a yes to more movie nights and pancakes?” he asked, his tone teasing but his eyes hopeful.

“It’s a yes to whatever you want,” you replied, smiling as you rested your head against his shoulder. “As long as it’s with you.”

Junhui let out a content sigh, holding you a little tighter. “I think I can live with that.”

The snowstorm outside raged on, but neither of you cared. In that small, cozy apartment, wrapped up in each other, it felt like the rest of the world had melted away, leaving just the two of you and the warmth of something that felt a lot like love.

And maybe, just maybe, every night could be like this.

A/N: i might just drop the rest of the members (left) on the weekends lmao (what i mean drop, as in posting all at once but we both know thats impossible). been busy. thank you for reading this shitwork !! loveyouuu

i'll try to post tomorrow i swear (no promises kept)

december with seventeen ! 4/13

[luckyroll3]

Quid Pro Quo: Chapter 1

Masterlist and Summary

Warnings: This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only. Includes explicit sexual content, graphic language, some violence, etc. Author chooses to not extensively tag in order to preserve some elements of storytelling.

Word Count: 9,558

You sit at your usual table in the bustling student center, absentmindedly twirling a pen as you wait for your new tutee to arrive. You glance at your watch for the third time in as many minutes. You look back over to your floormates Jess and Sam sitting across from you. 

"Did you hear about Sarah hooking up with Matt at the party on Friday?" Jess leans in conspiratorially, her voice a dramatic whisper. "Apparently they were all over each other on the dance floor."

Sam rolls her eyes good-naturedly. "Knowing Matt, he probably sweet-talked her with some cheesy pickup lines. That boy is shameless."

You chuckle at their antics, enjoying the lighthearted gossip session. Jess launches into another scandalous tale about someone called Josh from the Business School.

"I'm telling you, he's slept with half the cheerleading team already," Jess whispers conspiratorially, her eyes wide with gossip. "Lisa said he's got some special move that drives the girls wild."

You roll your eyes, suppressing a grin. "And I'm sure Lisa has firsthand experience, right?"

"Well, no, but—" 

"Don't encourage her," Sam interjects with a knowing smirk. "You know how Jess loves to embellish."

The three of you dissolve into giggles, the easy banter a welcome distraction from your waiting. The person you were supposed to be tutoring was already 5 minutes late. 

Suddenly, a smooth voice cuts through your laughter. "Excuse me, I'm looking for my tutor. Any chance you lovely ladies can point me in the right direction?”

You look up, the words dying on your lips as you take in the sight before you. Tousled bleached blonde hair frames a face that belongs on a magazine cover, complete with deep dimples, a broad nose, thick pink lips, and warm brown eyes that crinkle at the corners. The casual jeans and black hoodie hug his athletic frame in all the right places. You’ve seen him around campus and at parties – he’s kind of hard to miss – but you’ve never actually spoken to him before. He holds his phone out to you, and points at a name. Your name.  

"That’s me," you say, clearing your throat. "I'm your tutor. You must be Chan?"

You notice Jess and Sam exchanging meaningful glances, eyebrows raised. They clearly recognize him too and must have gossip about him like they do about everyone. Interesting.

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise as he takes you in, a slow dimpled grin spreading across his face. He clearly had not envisioned someone who looked like you. "Wow, I wasn't expecting... I mean, you're not exactly what I pictured when they said, 'best math tutor on campus.'" 

Funny how the men always seemed to be caught off guard. And you're never sure whether to be flattered or offended. "And what exactly did you picture?" You propped your fist up under your chin.

Chan's grin widens, revealing perfect white teeth. "Honestly? Some nerdy chick with thick glasses, a pocket protector, and maybe corrective shoes." He shrugs as he pulls the chair out and sits next to you. “And certainly not stylish.” His eyes take in your pink crop top and dark gray wide legged jeans that hugged your hips.

You can't help but laugh. "Sorry to disappoint. My pocket protector’s in the wash. I’ll be sure to have it with me next time if that makes you feel more comfortable." Chan smirks at your joke, his eyes never leaving yours. “This is Jess and Sam,” you say, pointing towards your friends. 

“Hey Jess and Sam,” he says, flashing them his smile before turning back to you.

“Hi Chan. Uh, we should get going,” Sam says hastily. “We were just keeping her company while she waited…” She and Jess hurriedly gather their things. 

“Have fun studying,” Jess calls over her shoulder as they scurry off, leaving you alone with the blonde bombshell.  

You watch your friends as they walk away, whispering between the two of them as they continue to glance back at Chan. Turning back to him, you clear your throat. "So, shall we get started?"

Chan's cocky demeanor falters slightly as he lets out a frustrated sigh. "I have to admit, I’m really struggling in differential equations. I kind of bombed my first exam. Like, spectacularly. I’ve never failed anything before. I’ve never even gotten below an A- in any of my courses! My professor suggested I get some extra help."

You nod understandingly. "That's why I'm here," you reassure him. “Let me give you a quick rundown of how I tutor and my rates, then we can dive in."

For the next hour, you pour over Chan's exam, dissecting each problem he got wrong. Your passion for the subject shines through as you enthusiastically explain the underlying concepts, using real-world examples to make the material come alive.

To your pleasant surprise, Chan listens attentively, absorbing your words. As Chan explains his frustrations with the material, you find yourself impressed by his intelligence despite this particular academic setback. He asks thoughtful questions, determined to grasp the ideas fully. His brow furrows adorably as he works through a particularly tricky concept. He seems to genuinely care about improving his understanding. Plus, the intense focus in his captivating brown eyes is rather attractive.

"Okay, let's break this down step by step," you say, leaning in closer to guide him through one of the problems. The subtle scent of his cologne teases your senses, and you silently chastise yourself for noticing. 

Over the next hour, you lose yourself in the elegant dance of numbers and variables, your voice growing more animated as you explain the intricacies of differential equations. Chan proves to be an attentive student, his initial bravado melting away to reveal genuine curiosity and a quick mind.

But your session is interrupted several times. A perky brunette approaches your table, her eyes fixed on your tutee. "Hey Chan," she coos, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "I didn't know you studied here."

Chan's demeanor shifts instantly, his smile widening as he leans back in his chair. "Only when I have a beautiful tutor," he says with a wink in your direction.

You roll your eyes, but can't help the small smile that tugs at your lips. "Flattery will get you nowhere, especially not in differential equations, sir," you quip as you tap your pencil on his textbook, earning a laugh from Chan.

Twenty minutes later, two more girls stop by, batting their eyelashes at him. You observe with amusement as he effortlessly juggles their attention, his charm cranked up to a thousand.

"Ladies, ladies," he says after a few minutes, "As much as I’d love to continue our chat, I'm in the middle of a very important tutoring session."

You snort. "Oh, now it's important?"

Chan grins at you, his eyes twinkling. "Always has been. How else will I impress you with my mathematical prowess?"

As the girls reluctantly drift away, you can't help but admire Chan's ability to navigate social situations with such ease. It's like watching a performance, and despite yourself, you're entertained.

"Wow," he says as he finishes working through a complex problem at the end of the session. "You really know your stuff. I think I actually understand some of this now."

You flash Chan a warm smile as you gather up your notes. "That's great! I'm glad I could help. If we keep meeting regularly and you keep putting in the same effort you showed today, we'll have you acing these exams in no time."

Chan leans back in his chair, giving you a smoldering look. "With a tutor as brilliant and stunning as you, how could I not be motivated to give it my all?"

He winks flirtatiously and you can't help but chuckle. Throughout the session, you noticed how Chan turned on the charm anytime a cute girl walked by your table, making them blush and giggle. But you see right through his player persona.

"You should save your cheesy pick-up lines for the girls over there eyeing you," you tease, nodding your head towards a group of freshmen near the cafe counter who keep glancing your way and whispering. "I don't mix business with pleasure."

"Pity," Chan sighs dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "And here I thought my devilish good looks and witty remarks were winning you over."

"Keep dreaming, Casanova." 

“Unlike Casanova, I’m 100% clean. I get tested monthly,” he says, cocking his head to the side with a sly smirk. “Hey! Did you call my pick-up lines ‘cheesy’??” he asks, in mock offense, followed by a smile. “That’s certainly a first.”

“Yup!” You roll your eyes playfully as you slide the textbook back into your bag. "I will say, when you weren’t distracted by ass and tits, you were a very attentive student today. Here’s what you owe me.” You hand him the invoice.

Chan's eyebrows raise as he examines the total. “Ouch,” he says, but he pulls out his wallet without complaint. "But I'd say you're worth every penny... and more," he adds suggestively. 

You simply shake your head in amusement as you accept his payment, immune to his flirtations after years of dealing with cocky jocks, handsy frat brothers, and other self-assured fuck boys who became humbled when they needed your help to pass math and physics. Still, you have to admit there's something magnetic about Chan's presence, a spark of intelligence and humor beneath that bad boy exterior that intrigues you. And damn, he is cute. The problem is he knows it.

"Seriously though, thanks for being so patient with me. Same time next week?" he asks, flashing that dimpled smile that you're sure has broken countless hearts.

Shouldering your backpack, you give him one last appraising look. "Yup. Don't forget to do the practice problems I assigned."

"As you wish." He grins roguishly. "I await our next meeting with bated breath."

You laugh again, before turning and walking away, very aware of Chan's eyes following your every step. This is going to be an interesting semester, you think to yourself as you head to your next class. 

Later that evening, you're sprawled on your bed in your dorm room. Jess sits in your desk chair and Sam is on the floor eating chips. The two of them rehash the day’s events. The conversation soon turns to your new tutee. 

“I can’t believe you’re tutoring THE Bang Chan,” Jess says incredulously, pausing in the middle of painting her toenails a vivid red. 

“Do they really call him that? Bang Chan?” you ask curiously. You know his full name is Chan Bahng. 

Sam jumps in. “Yes, Bang Chan. As in the notorious fuck boy who’s probably slept with two-thirds of the girls on campus. 

The room erupts into giggles and excited chatter. "Oh honey," Jess says with a grin. "Everyone knows Bang Chan. He's only the biggest player on campus!"

Your eyebrows shoot up. "Really? I mean, I noticed he was flirty, but—"

"Flirty?" Sam snorts as she sets down her bag of Ruffles, leaning forward with a conspiratorial grin. "Girl, you have no idea. That boy is trouble, with a capital T. Fuck, all the letters are screaming at you! He’s broken more hearts than I've had hot dinners. They call him the 'One Night Stand King'. He never hooks up with someone more than once."

“You would know this if you didn’t spend all your time in the physics building or with your boyfriend at the Phi Theta Nu house,” Jess says as she points the nail polish brush in your direction. 

“That’s why I hang out with you bitches! So you can catch me up on all the campus drama and gossip I miss.” Jess and Sam laugh at you. 

As your friends launch into increasingly outrageous stories about Chan's exploits, you feel a strange mix of fascination and disbelief. Could the attentive student you tutored really be the same person they're describing?

“I heard he slept with three of the sorors from KEK in one week, and not one of them knew about the others!” Sam continues. “And they all lived on the same floor!"

"Oh, and get this," Jess leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper as if the three of you weren’t alone. "I heard from my friend who fucked him freshman year that he's absolutely mind-blowing in bed. Like, earth-shattering good." She tightens the cap on the nail polish bottle and sets it on the desk. 

Sam nodded her head vigorously as she popped another chip into her mouth. “I’ve heard that too. That he works hard to get each girl off. That’s a miracle in and of itself, given how awful and selfish most of these guys are when it comes to our pleasure.”

"That part! And apparently, he has a magical tongue, if you know what I mean," Jess adds with a salacious wink.

The three of you devolve into loud laughter. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed Chan’s devilish smile and the sinful way he bit his plush lower lip. You're about to ask for more details when a knock at the door interrupts the gossip session. The scent of yummy food wafts in as your boyfriend Changbin enters, bags of takeout in hand. His handsome face breaks into a sweet smile at the sight of you.

"Hey babe," he greets, pecking you on the lips before holding up the food. "I brought dinner.” Changbin's eyes sweep over the room, taking in your friends and the remnants of your gossip session. “I didn’t realize you two would still be here, but there’s enough for everyone," he offers.

“Best boyfriend ever,” you declare as you move to help him with the food. 

"Mind if I join the party?"

Your friends eagerly accept, and soon you're all sprawled across the floor, plates balanced on laps as the conversation flows. The aroma of spicy chicken and savory noodles fills the air, mingling with laughter and playful banter.

After a few minutes of catching up, Changbin raises an eyebrow. "So, what were you all talking about before I got here? I could hear you laughing down the hall!"

Sam giggles, swallowing a mouthful of food. "Oh, we were just filling her in on Bang Chan's reputation."

Changbin's expression shifts, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "Chan? I know him. We play soccer together sometimes in the pickup games on Saturdays."

You lean in, curious. "Really? What do you think of him?"

Changbin shrugs, his muscular shoulders rolling beneath his fitted shirt. "He's actually a pretty nice guy. Killer on the field, but always fair. I’ve also heard from a couple of my frat bothers who are also engineering majors that he’s really fucking smart. Why? What have you ladies heard?" Changbin turns his attention to Sam and Jess, fully aware of their gossip queen reputations.

As your friends launch into a recap of Chan's notorious exploits, you find yourself torn between their salacious stories and your own experience. "He was my tutoring student today," you interject. "And yeah, he was flirty, but he was also polite and seemed genuinely interested in learning. I could tell he was also very intelligent."

Changbin nods, a thoughtful look on his face. "That tracks. He's got quite the reputation, but I've never seen him be disrespectful or mean. Just... very popular with the ladies." He ticks his head to the side and smirks before shoving a forkful of noodles into his mouth. 

“Does it make him a bad guy that he likes fucking around?” you ask sincerely. “He’s apparently single; from what you all have shared he offers nothing more than sex, then moves on. As long as he’s not tricking or forcing anyone, I don’t get why it’s a big deal.”

“True, true,” Sam agrees. 

Jess doesn’t look too sure. “It’s probably more about the volume and that he also fucks friends,” she adds after thinking about your comment for a few seconds. 

Changbin doesn’t really care and just continues eating, grabbing an eggroll from your plate with a cute smirk. You make a face at him. “What,” he says after taking a bite. “You know you’re not gonna eat it.”

As the conversation shifts to other topics, you can't help but ponder the complexities of Chan's character. Your mind wanders, comparing him to Changbin, wondering about the different types of men and relationships that exist in this world, especially considering the whirlwind of rumors surrounding Chan. You push the thoughts aside, focusing on the moment at hand, but a small part of you remains curious about the enigma that is the ‘Bang Chan’.

Later, after your friends have left and your dorm room is quiet once more, you and Changbin settle onto your bed. His strong arms encircle you, pulling you close as you cuddle together. Having a single this semester means that the two of you get to spend a lot more alone time together. The familiar scent of his cologne envelops you, comforting and enticing all at once. You rest your head on his sturdy chest as his fingers trail gentle patterns along your back. 

"Can you believe it's almost our one-year anniversary?" Changbin muses, his deep voice vibrating beneath your cheek. "Time flies when you're with someone as amazing as you."

You tilt your head up to meet his warm gaze, your heart fluttering at the open affection shining in his eyes. "I feel the same way. Being with you has been the best part of this whole college experience."

Changbin's hand comes up to tenderly brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "I want to make our anniversary special, baby. Is there anything in particular you want to do to celebrate?"

Nibbling your lower lip, you contemplate his question. In truth, all you really want is to spend uninterrupted quality time with the man you’ve been falling for over the past 10 months. No distractions, no studying, no gossip about cocky fuck boys with sinful smirks...

Just you and Changbin, savoring each other's presence, and maybe… something more.

You snuggle closer, relishing the feel of him. "Just spending time with you is enough," you reply softly. “I don’t need anything fancy. I just honestly want to disconnect from everything and everyone but you.” 

Changbin's pink lips curve into a soft smile. "That sounds perfect.”

He leans in, capturing your mouth in a tender kiss. Your eyes flutter shut as you melt into him, relishing the gentle pressure of his lips on yours. It's chaste and sweet, just like most of the kisses you've shared over the past year.

And yet...

A tiny, secret part of you can't help but yearn for more. To feel the heat of desire, the intensity of passion, the urgency of wandering hands and fervent kisses. Your thoughts stray to the erotic stories your friends shared earlier, of Chan's alleged prowess in the bedroom....

Mentally chastising yourself, you force those illicit musings away, focusing instead on the warm solidity of your boyfriend's frame against yours. Changbin is perfect – caring, respectful, patient. He deserves your full attention and devotion.

As his fingers continue to trace lazy patterns along your spine, a shiver runs through you. You can't help but wonder if Changbin wants more from your relationship. Over the past year, your physical intimacy has been limited to these chaste kisses and some gentle petting, and you're acutely aware of how accommodating he's been to your general lack of interest in intimacy, despite having sex with his previous partners. A perfect gentleman.

Gathering your courage, you tilt your head back up to meet his gaze again. "Binnie... do you want more from our relationship?"

His dark eyes soften as he looks at you, a mix of tenderness and desire in their depths. "I only want what you want," he says sincerely. "My priority is making sure you're happy and feel safe. We can take things at whatever pace you're comfortable with. There’s no need to rush anything."

“Okay,” you whisper.

His words fill you with a comforting warmth, like slipping into a hot bath on a cold night. In that moment, you make a decision, one that feels both monumental and inevitable. Silently, you promise yourself that for your anniversary in two months, you'll take things to the next level with Changbin. He deserves it, and if you're honest with yourself, you want it, or rather him, too. You want his touch, his closeness, the deeper connection that comes with truly giving yourselves to one another emotionally and physically.

No more holding back, you tell yourself. You have just over two months to prepare, to get comfortable with the idea. As a sign of this new commitment to yourself and your relationship, you gently slide Changbin’s hands from your lower back to your ass. The movement is slow and deliberate. “That’s better,” you whisper. Your breath catches in your throat as you wait for his reaction.

Changbin lets out a low, appreciative chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your body. He squeezes gently, testing the waters, and you feel a spark of arousal shoot through you. His lips find your neck, and he begins to pepper it with light, teasing kisses, each one sending a tingling wave of sensation down your spine.

You close your eyes, savoring the moment, the feel of his strong hands and warm lips. This is what you want. To be closer to him, to experience the physical side of your feelings for him. As you lay there in his arms, your mind drifts to thoughts of what that next level might entail. You try to imagine what it will be like when you finally cross that line: the heat of his skin against yours, the weight of his body, the mingling of your breaths. It’s a tantalizing thought, and a mix of excitement and nervousness flutters in your stomach.

****

The library hums with quiet activity as you settle into a table towards the back. You’re looking forward to seeing Chan again. Despite his reputation, you enjoyed talking to Chan, and he was a fun and attentive student last time. Maybe there’s more to him than meets the eye. 

Speaking of the “fuck boy” in question, you see Chan approaching, his blonde hair slightly tousled and a grin playing on his lips as he struts towards the table like he owns the place. Which, let’s be honest, he might as well. Every woman in the building, young and old, cast him longing glances as he passes by, but his eyes are only on you. 

“Hey tutor,” he drawls, flashing that alluring grin, “ready to help a desperate man?” As he slides into the seat across from you, you catch a whiff of his cologne – a subtle, woodsy scent that's oddly enticing. “Oh, and before you say it, I know I’m irresistible. I just can’t help it.”

"Hello, Chan," you say, feigning exasperation, but you can't help the little upturn of your lips. "I'll help you, but only if you promise to behave yourself."

"Scout's honor," he says, holding three fingers up playfully. 

"Heh, good. Ready to tackle some more concepts?"

Chan's eyes light up with a mix of enthusiasm and mischief. "Absolutely. I've been practicing, you know. Might even impress you today."

You raise an eyebrow playfully. "Oh really? Let's see what you've got, blondie."

As you dive into the session, you're pleasantly surprised by Chan's progress. He's quick to grasp concepts that stumped him before, and you find yourself laughing at his clever quips between problem sets.

The next two hours fly by in a flurry of notes, examples, and Chan's near-constant, yet surprisingly endearing, banter. He's actually put in the effort and it’s clear he’s been studying.

"See? Told you I'd impress you," he says with a wink as you wrap up.

You roll your eyes but can't suppress a grin. "Alright, alright. Don't let it go to your head."

As Chan reaches for his wallet, his expression shifts, turning serious for once. "Hey, um... about the payment," he starts, his usual confidence faltering, a flicker of discomfort crossing his features. He hands over the bills in his hand. "I hate to ask this, but... is there any chance I could get a discount?” An uncharacteristic blush creeps up his cheeks.

"Chan, if you can't pay today, it's fine," you assure him, offering the cash back. "We can work something out; you can get it to me next week. We also don’t have to do two hours every time."

He shakes his head. “No, that’s yours. You earned it.” He meets your gaze. “I… I can’t pay for any more sessions at this rate after our next session.” Chan runs a hand through his hair, clearly embarrassed. "Yeah, it's just... I'm here on scholarship, you know? Most of what I make from my campus job goes back home to help my family. I totally get it if you can't give me a discount, though." 

His admission catches you off guard; you’re surprised by this sudden vulnerability. So, the infamous "fuck boy" may have a heart after all.

As he speaks, you notice how he's trying to maintain his cocky demeanor, but there's a genuine worry in his eyes that tugs at your heart. Suddenly, an idea strikes you – one that makes your pulse quicken with both nervousness and excitement.

"Actually," you begin, your voice lowering conspiratorially, "I might have a proposition for you." You pause, thinking about the best way to phrase your question. "But first, I have to ask... what's the deal with your reputation as the campus 'fuck boy'? I heard they call you ‘Bang Chan’?"

Chan's eyebrows shoot up, clearly not expecting this turn in the conversation. Then he lets out a laugh, his dimples deepening. "Wow, straight to the point, huh? I like that." He leans back in his chair, a glint in his eye. "Well, I won't deny it. The rumors are true. I am, for lack of a better term, a fuck boy.”

"And you're okay with that label?" you press, genuinely curious.

He shrugs, still smiling. "Look, I don't think there's anything wrong with it as long as I'm upfront about my intentions. No false promises, no declarations of relationships or love, no repeat customers, no broken hearts – just fun between consenting adults. I’ve never seen the point in stringing women along or pursuing those who aren’t interested when there are so many who are willing to hook up with no attachments if you just come right out and ask."

As he speaks, you feel a mix of admiration for his honesty and a flutter of anticipation in your stomach. 

“I like how practical you are about it. And you’re right. Despite what society tries to tell us, women’s sexual drives are just as high, if not higher than most men’s.” He nods in agreement, clearly impressed with your non judgemental take. You take a deep breath, preparing to make your unconventional offer. You lean in towards him. “How about we… negotiate?”

His interest piqued, Chan leans in too. "I'm listening."

You lower your voice. "Okay, here's my proposition. I'll waive your tutoring fees for the rest of the semester if..." You pause, your heart racing. "If you agree to teach me about… intimacy."

Chan's eyes widen, his usual cocky demeanor faltering for a moment. "Wait, what?" He searches your face, as if trying to determine if you're joking. You’ve shocked him for the second time in less than 5 minutes. 

"Well, here's the thing," you say, biting your lower lip. "I need to... gain some... experience."

Realization dawns on Chan's face, and a sly grin spreads across his lips. “Really?!? Not sure what I was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t that!”

"I'm serious," you say, surprised by how taken aback he seems by your request. "I want to take things to the next level with my boyfriend, but I have zero experience. Who better to learn from than the campus expert?"

Silence settles between the two of you. Chan runs a hand through his tousled blonde hair, his expression a mix of surprise and interest. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "This is... unexpected," he says finally. "But I’m intrigued. Give me a minute to think about this."

As he considers, you find yourself holding your breath. You anxiously twirl your pencil as your mind races with thoughts of Changbin, of your upcoming anniversary, of the potential benefits and consequences of this deal. You turn your focus back out externally to notice Chan's eyes roaming over your body. He just smirks when you catch him.

After what feels like an eternity, Chan leans forward, his brown eyes locking with yours. "Alright, I'm in. But we need to set some strict terms."

You nod eagerly. "Of course. What did you have in mind?"

"First," he begins, his tone suddenly businesslike, "this is purely transactional. No catching feelings, no strings attached. I’m assuming you’re a virgin?” 

“Yes,” you say, unashamed. “Will that be a problem?” 

He sighs. “I usually don’t fuck virgins because they tend to get…”

“Clingy?” You finish for him. 

“Yes. They tend to get clingy. If either of us starts developing feelings, we end it immediately. Agreed?" And by ‘either of us’, you assume he means you and your clingy virginity. 

"Agreed," you say without hesitation. "I have no interest in complicating things. This is just about learning. No clinginess, no drama. It’s simply not my style. I’m coming at this from a completely practical perspective. Just mutual… assistance."

Chan nods approvingly. "Good. So, in exchange for diff eq tutoring, I'll teach you about sex – from kissing to... well, everything I guess." He smirks, his confidence returning. "That means we’ll spend time alone together, and we’ll have to touch and other things, building our way up to fucking, if that works for you."

You feel a blush creeping up your neck, but you maintain eye contact, determined to convince him that it’s not a big deal. Because it’s not in your mind. Simply a quid pro quo – your services for his. You talk about sex all the time; you’re just not having it and it’s finally time to rectify that. "Understood. You get what you need from me to pass your class and I get what I need from you to confidently seduce my boyfriend. Shake on it?"

Chan extends his hand, and you take it, feeling a small thrill at the contact. "Deal," he says, his signature charming smile returning. "Now, let's figure out our schedules. One diff eq session and one... ‘intimacy’ session per week?" You nod.

As you pull out your phone to compare calendars, you can't help but wonder what you've just gotten yourself into. But the thought of surprising Changbin on your anniversary pushes any doubts aside.

****

The following week, you meet Chan at the house he shares with 3 other guys to continue your tutoring.  

You stand on the porch, your heart racing with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. You take a deep breath to steady yourself before knocking on the door.

Chan answers almost immediately. The door swings open, revealing him in a fitted black t-shirt and jeans that hug his muscular thighs. His blonde hair is slightly damp, as if he just showered. The scent of his soap, a minty eucalyptus smell, washes over you.

"Hey tutor," he greets with that signature dimpled grin. "Come on in."

You follow him inside, taking in the typical college guy decor – mismatched furniture, video game systems, posters. But you can’t help but notice how tidy the place is; everything is surprisingly clean and organized. It’s the opposite of what you’d expect in a place where 4 college-aged boys live. 

“Who’s your housekeeper,” you ask. 

"Impressed?" Chan asks, noticing your wandering gaze. "It’s me. My roommates are fucking slobs, but I think after a year, I’m finally rubbing off on them," Chan explains as he leads you to the kitchen.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a Mr. Clean.”

“There were no housekeepers in my neighborhood. We all had to chip in at my house.”

“Same in mine,” you say as you take a seat at the kitchen table. “My friends all had housekeepers, but my parents didn’t believe in that shit. They both grew up poor and didn’t want my brother and me to think that having money meant other people did basic stuff for us. We washed dishes, we did our own laundry, we did lawn maintenance…”

“Damn, even we didn’t have to mow the lawn!” Chan laughed. “But that’s cool of your parents to keep you guys humble.”

The two of you dive into the session, reviewing his notes from this week. You're pleasantly surprised by how quickly Chan grasps the new concepts you introduce. His face scrunches adorably in concentration as he tackles each question, only occasionally glancing up to catch your approving nods. 

After returning from the bathroom, you lean over Chan's shoulder, pointing out an error in his calculations. "See here? You forgot to apply the chain rule."

Chan's brow furrows as he studies the problem. "Ah, I see it now, shit! Thanks.”

As you explain the correct approach, you're acutely aware of his proximity. You retake your seat and continue to watch him erase and scribble as he works out the problem.

"You've really been practicing," you comment, unable to keep the surprise from your voice.

Chan looks up, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Well, I've got a pretty great tutor motivating me," he says with a wink.

You roll your eyes playfully. "I told you, flattery will get you nowhere, mister."

"Oh really?" Chan leans in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Because it usually gets me everywhere." He smirks. 

"Alright, alright.” You flip a few pages in the textbook. “Try this next one on your own," you say, sliding the textbook towards him and pointing out a particularly tricky problem.

As Chan works through the equation, you can't help but notice the way his t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, or how his tongue darts out to wet his lips when he’s in deep concentration.

"Okay, I think I've got it," Chan says triumphantly after solving it. He looks up at you, his brown eyes sparkling, as he slides his notebook in front of you. You review it, nodding. 

“Nice work.”

“You’re impressed?” He leans back, placing his hands behind his head and quickly arching his eyebrows several times.

You can't help but smile. "I am. You've clearly been putting in the work." You hand him back his notebook and close the textbook. “Let’s call it.”

As you wrap up the math portion of your meeting, a nervous energy settles between you. Chan clears his throat, his cocky demeanor faltering slightly.

"So... I guess it's time for your lesson now?" he asks, his voice lower than usual.

You nod, your heart rate picking up. "I guess so."

Chan stands, looking at his watch. "Let's move somewhere more comfortable. Plus, I think a couple of my roommates will be home soon."

He leads you to his bedroom and motions for you to place your things on his desk. 

You stand awkwardly, your heart pounding. Chan leans against the wall, his brown eyes studying you intently.

"Don't look so nervous. I don’t bite... unless you ask me to.” His lips curve into a mischievous smile, causing you to shake your head at his ridiculousness. “We'll start slow." He walks over to stand directly in front of you. "So," he says, breaking the tension. "Show me how you usually kiss. Don't overthink it."

You take a deep breath and step closer, Chan's scent filling your senses. You place your hands on his shoulders and press your lips against his, holding them there for a few seconds before pulling away.

Chan's dimples appear as he smiles warmly. "That was... gentle. Sweet, even. But let's work on technique."

You feel your cheeks burn. "That bad, huh?"

He chuckles. "Not bad, just inexperienced. Here, let me show you."

Chan cups your face with one hand, his thumb grazing your cheek. "First, create anticipation," he murmurs. His eyes flick to your lips, then back to your eyes. You find yourself holding your breath. “Start exactly how you did before, soft and gentle, but then let it develop into something deeper by opening your mouth slightly, using your tongue to slightly tease, and when they part their mouth in response, slip your tongue in and massage theirs. Like this.”

As his lips meet yours, they are soft and gentle, yet determined. He moves slowly, deliberately, guiding your mouth to part slightly and tilting your head for a better angle. Your body instinctively leans into him, craving more. You feel the gentle probing of his tongue against your lips, and you respond by eagerly accepting it. His tongue explores every nook and cranny of your mouth, and you press yours back against his.

Changbin has kissed you like this before, but never for long. He never wants to seem like he’s pressuring you to do anything. But the way Chan is kissing you is so sensual, yet intense, you actually feel like your knees might buckle. You can see why all the girls on campus are so taken by him. 

After a moment, he pulls back. "See the difference?" 

You nod with your eyes closed, a bit dazed. "Definitely." He laughs at your response.

"Now you try," Chan instructs. "Remember, it's about connection, not just pressing lips together."

As you lean in again, you think, I can do this. It's just practice, like math. But when your lips meet his this time, it feels anything but clinical. You replicate what he just showed you. At the same time, you feel him clasp your hands, which are hanging lifelessly at your sides, and bring them behind his neck. You interlace your fingers in the new position. After a few moments, you pull your lips away. 

“Good. And remember to touch him. Rub his back, grab his ass, and if your hands are around his neck like they are now, run your fingers through the hair at the nape.”

You slip your fingers up into his hair, toying with the curls forming at the back of his neck. “Like this?”

“Just like that,” he whispers with a smile. “Now the functionality of this shifts with the position.” He retakes your hands in his and leads you to the bed. He sits and motions for you to get on him. His hands settle on your hips. “If you’re straddling your partner, it’s similar to standing. Wrap your arms and legs around me and go again.”

You bring your lips back to his. The kiss quickly deepens, and you sigh lightly when you feel Chan’s hands slide to your lower back, continuing on to your ass. Chan smiles against your lips at your reaction, which causes you to laugh and break the kiss. 

“Sorry,” you chuckle. “You just caught me off guard.”

“That’s okay. Just get comfortable with it.” He squeezes your ass playfully. “Your boyfriend doesn’t grab your ass? It’s a great ass.” 

“He’s pretty respectful. If I told him to grab it, he would.” You lazily twirl your thumbs on the back of his neck. 

“Keep doing that. That feels good.” He leans back in to continue the kiss. After a few minutes he leans back on the bed, pulling you on top of him. “Don’t stop,” he whispers against your lips. And you don’t. He eventually rolls so that you’re both on your sides, facing each other. “You’re a quick learner,” he says when he finally allows you to come up for air. 

"Well, I've got a pretty great tutor motivating me," you smirk with a wink, mimicking his comment from earlier. 

“Ha! Well, you do! I am the best.” He readjusts both of you, pulling your body closer to his, and repositioning your top leg over his hip. “Now when you’re lying down, kissing can get uncomfortable. But if both of you are into it, it shouldn’t matter. And rolling around usually helps. Got it?”

“Got it.” You don’t wait for him to tell you to try again, you just dive in. His positive feedback has helped you grow your confidence in a short period of time, and you’ve surprised yourself by how comfortable you feel making out with him, when you’ve never really done it with anyone before. 

****

That weekend, you and Changbin sit in his car after a tasty dinner at your favorite Italian bistro. The restaurant's neon sign casts a soft glow through the windshield, illuminating Changbin's face as he leans toward you. His eyes, warm and inviting, flick down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. Your heart races with anticipation.

"I had a great time tonight," Changbin says softly, his hand reaching for yours.

You smile, gathering your courage. "Me too."

As he leans in for what he expects to be his usual gentle peck, you surprise him by cupping his face with both hands. You hold him in place, tilting your head slightly as you deepen the kiss. Your tongue traces his lower lip before easing into his mouth.

Changbin makes a small sound of surprise, then leans into the kiss, his hand moving to the back of your neck. The console between you digs into your ribs, but you barely notice, lost in the sensation of his lips moving against yours.

When you finally pull away, both slightly breathless, Changbin's eyes are wide with pleasant surprise. "Wow," he breathes. "That was... unexpected. But amazing."

You can't help but grin, a mixture of pride and excitement coursing through you. "I've been practicing," you admit, then quickly add, "In my head, I mean. Imagining. And watching porn." You grin.

Changbin chuckles, his thumb caressing your cheek. "Well, your imagination is impressive. What else have you been imagining?" And after a beat he adds, “and what kind of porn???”

“Don’t you worry about that!” you laugh. “I don’t ask you about your porn, you don’t ask me about mine.” 

“Deal!” he says with a chuckle. “Cause some of my porn is pretty cringey!”

As he starts the car, you ask softy, "Hey, Changbin? Can you stay over tonight?"

He glances at you, his expression a mix of excitement and concern. "Are you sure? I thought you had to study."

"I'm sure," you nod, your heart pounding. "I can study tomorrow."

Changbin happily agrees, his face breaking into a wide grin. He’s slept over before, but usually, the two of you only cuddle. You want to do more tonight. 

After washing your face and changing into your PJs, you climb into bed with Changbin. He’s in his undershirt and boxers, his muscular arms and legs on display. He cuddles you like he’s done many times before. "So, what do you want to do?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

You take a deep breath. "I want... I want more," you say hesitantly.

Changbin raises an eyebrow in surprise. "What kind of ‘more’?"

You blush, feeling suddenly shy about voicing your desires out loud. "I want... to... make out with you," you say in a small voice. 

"Okay then," Changbin whispers before leaning in to kiss you again.

This kiss is deeper than the one in the car, filled with unspoken promises and longing. His hands roam over your back as yours tangle in his hair, drawing him closer. His hands wander slowly down your back. You gently guide one of his hands to your ass and encourage him to squeeze, like you did the week prior. He’s hesitant at first, but then he grabs two handfuls of flesh, making you yelp.

“Sorry,” he whispers against your lips.

“It’s okay. I liked it,” you whisper back with a smile before you playfully nip at his lip. He laughs and resumes kissing you. One of his hands moves to cup your breast through your shirt, making you moan into his mouth. It feels so good. You pull him on top of you, and the two of you spend a few hours making out heavily.  

As you wake the next morning, your lips throb and tingle delightfully from last night's passionate kissing. You're surprised by how much you enjoy the slight discomfort, not realizing that your lips could get sore. But it makes sense, you rationalize in your head, since there must be muscles there that help them to move and pucker. 

While you eat lunch, you can't stop smiling at the memory of Changbin's happy face as he left your dorm room. His gentle kiss goodbye still lingers on your lips and in your heart. If this is what you’ve been missing out on with him, you can’t wait to explore more.

**** 

You can barely contain your excitement as you settle into your usual table in the student center for your next session with Chan. As soon as he arrives, flashing that signature dimpled smile, you blurt out, "It worked!"

Chan's eyebrows shoot up as he slides into the seat across from you. "Someone's in a good mood," he teases. "What worked?"

"The kissing techniques," you whisper, leaning in conspiratorially. "Let's just say my boyfriend was very impressed."

Chan's laugh is warm and genuine. "Look at you, becoming a master seductress already." He winks, then adds, "I did pretty well too. Aced my last quiz."

"That's fantastic!" You hold up your hand for a high five, which he enthusiastically returns. 

As Chan starts on his homework, you can't help but notice biting his lower lip again when he's thinking hard. It's... distractingly cute.

The rest of the session flies by, the two of you falling into your easy rhythm of banter and problem-solving.

"So," Chan says, as you're both packing up. "Ready for your next lesson?" His voice drops an octave.

You nod, trying not to appear too excited. "Where to, professor?"

Chan grins at the nickname. "Um… let’s go to the Sandbar. It’s still early, so it will be pretty quiet before happy hour starts. Perfect for... practical demonstrations. Plus, my roommate is the bartender, and he’ll hook us up."

At the bar, Chan introduces you to one of his roommates, Minho, who drops off a pitcher of beer and two chilled pint glasses to your booth tucked away in a dimly lit corner towards the back. 

As Minho walks back to the bar, Chan moves to your side of the booth and leans in close. "Foreplay," he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear, "is all about building anticipation. It starts long before you hit the bedroom. It's in the way you look at your partner, the casual touches."

"Show me," you whisper.

"The key," he whispers in your ear, his voice a sensual purr, "is taking your time.” Chan's fingers trail lightly along your arm, barely touching. "It's also about suggestion," he explains. "Hinting at what's to come." His hand moves to your neck, fingertips grazing your skin. "Teasing them until they're aching for your touch. How does that feel?"

"Tingly," you admit, your voice slightly breathless. "Like little electric shocks."

He nods approvingly. “Explore every inch of your partner's body, paying special attention to their erogenous zones. Graze, nuzzle, kiss."

His skilled fingers move to your lips, brushing lightly against them before trailing down your chin to your sternum. Your breath catches as his hand grazes the exposed skin of your cleavage, followed by his thumb circling your sensitive nipple through the fabric of your tank top, which immediately hardens by arousal.

He smiles approvingly. "Moans are your best friend," he huskily informs you, his lips grazing your earlobe. "They let your partner know what you like."

As if on cue, a low moan escapes your lips when he pinches your nipple, spurring him on. His mouth follows his hand’s path, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses down your neck, over your sternum, and onto your cleavage, making your knees weak and pulling more sounds from you.

"See?" he murmurs against your skin, satisfaction lacing his voice. "Communication is key."

With that, he claims your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue invading your mouth. His hands slip beneath your tank top, his fingers teasingly brushing against the heated skin of your belly, sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

Over the next hour, Chan walks you through the finer points of foreplay – the art of the tease, the power of anticipation, the importance of paying attention to your partner's responses. He demonstrates each technique with a clinical detachment, but there's no denying the heat that simmers between you, the way your body responds to even his most innocent touches.

"Now, your turn. Show me what you've learned."

Emboldened by the beer coursing through your system and the heady rush of new knowledge, you slide closer to him. Taking a deep breath, you extend your hand towards him, feeling the heat emanating from his skin, letting your fingers dance along his forearm and trace his defined muscles. You lean in, nuzzling slightly against his neck, your lips barely brushing his skin as you whisper, "Like this?"

You feel rather than hear Chan's sharp intake of breath. His voice comes out husky when he responds, "Exactly like that." A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you hear the approval in his tone. 

You pepper a few soft kisses on his neck as your hands tickle the skin around the waistband of his jeans, causing him to sigh. "Fuuuck.” His head falls back against the seat. “You catch on quickly."

“Thanks,” you say giddily. As you pull back, you catch a glimpse of something in Chan's eyes – a flash of heat, quickly masked. It makes your heart race, and you wonder if you're getting in over your head.

The moment passes, and Chan rotates his head lazily to stare at you while he leans back in the seat, his signature dimpled smile returning. "Not bad for a beginner," he teases, raising his glass in a mock toast.

You laugh, feeling the tension dissipate as you clink your glass against his.

As the weekday happy hour crowd starts to arrive, your conversation drifts away from the intimate lesson and into more casual territory. You find yourself genuinely enjoying Chan's company, surprised by how easy it is to talk to him. As you talk and laugh together, you’re also surprised at how much you’re opening up to him.

"So, what made you decide to go into mechanical engineering?" you ask, sipping your drink. "Was it always your dream?"

Chan shrugs, his fingers tracing idle patterns on the tabletop. "Not exactly. My parents always pushed me to excel academically, I've always been good at math and science, and I like to build things. Engineering just seemed like the logical choice."

"But is it what you want?"

He's quiet for a moment, considering. "I don't know," he admits finally. "I mean, I'm good at it and I’m interested in designing roller coasters. But sometimes I wonder if there's more out there for me, you know?"

You nod, understanding completely. "I feel the same way about my major sometimes. Like I'm just going through the motions, doing what's expected of me."

"Exactly." Chan's eyes meet yours, a spark of connection passing between you. "It's like, is this all there is? Studying and working and just... existing?"

"Right. There has to be more to life than that," you agree. "Yeah, I want to work for NASA, but I also want to travel, to experience new things… to fall in love." The words slip out before you can stop them, hanging in the air between you.

Chan's gaze softens a bit. “NASA huh?” He smiles and you’re appreciative of him ignoring your last comment. 

“You want to make roller coasters, I want to study black holes.”

“That’s pretty fucking cool! I’ve also thought about building rockets and spaceships, but it felt too far-fetched.”

“Not at all. Tons of mechanical engineers are hired by NASA. But only if they pass Diff Eq,” you tease with a smirk. 

“Ha, ha,” he says sarcastically as he refills your beer. 

As the night wears on, you find yourself losing track of time, too caught up in the thrill of deep conversation, shared dreams, and this apparent friendship you and Chan are developing. Around you, the bar begins to fill with folks interested in cheap beer and discounted food. Clusters of college students talk and flirt and dance to the music spilling from the jukebox.

You become increasingly aware of the looks you and Chan are getting – curiosity, envy, speculative whispers. A group of girls at the bar, in particular, keep glancing over, giggling behind their hands. Chan seems oblivious, his attention focused solely on you.

"Does it ever bother you?" you ask him, nodding towards the onlookers.

He follows your gaze and chuckles. "The attention? Nah, I'm used to it. It’s a burden looking like this," he adds with a wink, followed by a deep laugh. You roll your eyes but can't help smiling. "Besides, it's not like any of what they’re thinking is true tonight."

After the two of you finish a third pitcher, the pressure in your bladder becomes impossible to ignore. "I’ll be right back," you say, tapping him on the shoulder to let you out. “Bathroom break.” You slide out of the booth. 

He nods, his eyes crinkling with a smile. "You’re breaking the seal, lady! So dangerous,” he says with a laugh. “But, hurry back. I’ll be lonely without you," he coos as he sits back down.

As you wait in line for the ladies' room, you can't help but notice the girls a couple spots ahead of you in line. They're eyeing you with blatant curiosity, whispering.

Finally, one of them turns to you with a bright smile. "Hey, are you here with Chan?" she asks across several people, her eyes wide. 

You blink, caught off guard. "Oh, um. Yeah, kind of.” You stammer. “I'm his tutor, actually."

The girls exchange knowing looks, giggling. "His tutor, huh? Is that what he's calling it these days?"

“No, really,” you say with a smile. “I’m tutoring him for his differential equations class.”

She raises an eyebrow, looking skeptical. "Really? You don’t look like a tutor.” She shifts from one leg to another as she sizes you up.

“And yet, I am. Physics major; top of my class.” You’re always slightly irritated that people assume you can’t be cute AND smart.

“That's amazing!" the other girl gushes. You’re not sure if she’s being facetious or channeling some girl power energy.  

You nod and give them a fake smile. 

They turn back to their conversation and a couple seconds later they walk into the bathroom. After 5 more minutes it’s finally your turn and your bladder is fucking thankful. 

As you head back to the booth, you spot Chan standing next to the bar chatting with one of the girls who had just spoken to you. His charm is on full display, dimpled smile flashing as he leans in close, leaning his ear towards her to hear her over the music. Her hand rests on his arm as she laughs at something he says.

You roll your eyes and snicker. You’ve been gone for less than 10 minutes and he’s already on the hunt. This is your signal that it’s time to go. You’ve already taken up a lot of his time tonight.  

You grab your bag and approach Chan at the bar. "Hey, Chan," you interrupt, "I'm heading out. Early class tomorrow."

Chan looks up at you in surprise, his brow furrowing, his smile faltering slightly. "What? Nooooo! Stay; have a couple more drinks," he pleads, those expressive brown eyes locking onto yours. He flashes you that charming, dimpled grin, the one that would make your knees melt if you were into him like that. 

You hesitate, tempted by his request since you were enjoying chatting with him. But then you catch the other girl's side-eye, clearly indicating that she wants him all to herself, and make up your mind. "No thanks,” you say with a smile. “I really do need to get some studying done. How much do I owe you for the pitchers?”

Chan opens his mouth as if to protest, but instead adds, “Don’t worry about. Min took care of it for us.”

“Cool,” you say nonchalantly. “Tell him I said thanks and I’ll see you at our session next week, okay?"

“Yeah, okay.” He watches you as you leave.

“Have fun,” you call out over your shoulder with a wink. 

“You too! And be careful not to give buddy a heart attack this weekend!” he replies with a chuckle before diving right back into his flirting.

As you walk away, you can't help but feel a little excited. You've learned so much tonight, and you can't wait to try it out with Changbin. The thought of his intense eyes softening as you put your new skills to use sends a shiver down your spine.

[xitsensunmoon]

Biting the Hand That Feeds au FAQ (Vampires + donor au)

Any general content warnings for bhtf au?

Yes. A normal amount of fnaf warnings, a normal amount of vampire warnings. The most obvious ones are blood, hypnosis, bites, and animalistic behaviour. Less obvious - slightly suggestive themes. Fnaf's usual violence, dark themes, a drop of gore and murders. The lore is uh. Very dark. I will try to decrease the amount of all of the cruelty but man. People who know, know how hard it will be. But I will tag everything properly so don't worry.

Is there a fic for your au?

No. And currently, I'm not planning on writing one.

How do I find the story?

I've linked all of the story crumbs in the pinned post.

I will probably forget to update it so I recommend checking the tags. Here's the tag list

Are the comics the only canonical thing about au?

No! I answer asks and draw a lot of doodles with bhtf au all the time and 90% of them are canon. I went through everything and indicated what is canon and what isn't anymore. You can, yet again, find everything in the tag list linked in the previous question.

Can I draw/write fan stuff for your au?

Yes, please!! I'm always happy to see fanart and fan writings and literally everything that you do! Just tag me when you post and use a fanart or fanwriting tag for au specifically so I don't miss it!

Can you include my characters in your story?

No, unfortunately, I cannot. The story is already written and I don't have any "space" for background characters either. Maybe it will change but currently, things are like this.

I asked a question with an interaction with my characters and I never got an answer, why?

I don't accept such requests. I'm not ready to spend my time drawing other people's characters for free(if I personally don't want to, of course)

Is there any limit to how many questions I can ask?

No, not at all! You can ask all you want just please make sure your question wasn't answered before. There is a big possibility I will just simply delete it if it was answered beforehand many times. Check the ask tag for it.

What about limitations? Any boundaries?

Please no questions about tickling🧍‍♀�� I got so many of those it already makes me uncomfortable. And for some reason, a lot of people send asks that include violence towards my characters and while I don't really feel uncomfortable with this I just idk what to answer and why are you even doing this lmao

What questions I should avoid?

Well, not really avoid but I will mention it anyway.

The things I have planned to show right now:

- Sun and Moon and doctor's first encounter

- The creation of Sun&Moon

- Why S&M are sensitive to light and darkness

- How they hunt

So no need to ask me about these. I will show it, I promise.

What about sexual themes?

I understand that I post a lot of suggestive stuff and it may appear I allow such a thing but no.

You can create content with it tho, I don't mind for the most part. Just be ready that I may not reblog it, as my Tumblr is a SFW place. It's always 50/50.

Romantic themes?

I do draw some kisses and cuddles when I feel like it so you of course can send ideas for cute interactions.

My question gets ignored even though I followed everything that you mentioned here. Why?

Answered in main FAQ.

Can I share the ideas for your au with you?

YES!!! Yes, yes and yes! I'm very open to that, like yes! The only thing that I definitely want to mention - you should expect that I actually can take your ideas and use them. Some people are protective of their ideas so if you're like this you probably should not share them with me :)

The information that you're using for your au is wrong.

Happens sometimes yeah. I know nothing about any medical stuff for doctor reader so I usually improvise. After all it's an au about robotic vampires man, this information is absolutely wrong. But! You're free to drop feedback/constructive criticism in my inbox!

Will be updated later

[funishment-time]

✨ funishment-time's FAQ ✨

🐻‍❄️ Q: Who are you?

you can call me Iris. i like girls and use any pronouns. i am a VTuber but this is my fandom side-blog. that's all you're gettin

🐻‍❄️ Q: Does your blog work on a queue?

ye. generally 12-24 posts between 8am EST and 12am EST, daily. if it runs out of posts i am Dead

🐻‍❄️ Q: What content can I find on this blog?

mostly Danganronpa with a touch of Rain Code. Kazutaka Kodaka's works, really. you might also sparingly see other fandoms like Pokemon, Neopets, etc. but it's 99% the ron paul rn

🐻‍❄️ Q: Is this blog 18+?

no. i try to keep it high PG-13. there might be some blood in reblogged art or sexy-exy-exy jokes but nothing that should be Too Painful. i will try to trigger warning any mentions/discussions of SA etc. do be aware that i'm an Old Person, though, so if that makes you uncomfortable, feel free to block/unfollow etc.

🐻‍❄️ Q: What are your socials?

check them out on dis post

🐻‍❄️ Q: What tags might be useful?

kodaka's bsky q&as 2024 Danganronpa Winter Gift Calendar all my DR memes (instant Mood Boostener) all my silly DR doodles (backup Mood Boostener)

🐻‍❄️ Q: Are your asks open?

sure. bear in mind (hee hee) that i will not answer Bad Faith Questions, Negative Rants about how DR sucks or something, Unsubstantiated Drama, etc. i may also take a while to answer and sometimes the asks just get lost. but go ahead

🐻‍❄️ Q: Can I message you privately?

sure, but you may not get an answer. and if you're a minor, you definitely won't get an answer, sorry.

🐻‍❄️ Q: What are the rules on your donation doodles?

$5 minimum on Ko-fi for a request. canon DR and Rain Code characters only, incl characters in additional materials who have a design (Yui Samidare, Yasuke Matsuda etc). limit to 2 characters. no OCs, no incest ships, no WOH/older character ships, no fetish material. it'll be done within 3-4 days of donation but probably sooner. Thanks For The Support Homie

🐻‍❄️ Q: Do you allow submissions?

what would you even be submitting . you can def send messages about cool DR/Rain Code news though

🐻‍❄️ Q: Will you advertise my zine, merch, etc?

yes, totes, so long as it's DR or Rain Code related. just message me or send me an ask!

🐻‍❄️ Q: How often do you update the BlueSky Q&As?

i try to do it every month But Uh. that doesn't always happen as i am disabled. usually it's more like every three months. i'm tryin out here

🐻‍❄️ Q: Have you played [X Danganronpa fangame]?

no, as i am currently working on my own. (my explanation for this is right here.) i will get around to them in a couple years maybe, but not right now. that means if you tell me about P:EG stuff or something i won't know what you mean, apologies

🐻‍❄️ Q: Who is "Manager Bunny"?

Manager Bunny (or "Manabun") is my VTuber manager and best friend. she is a Japanese national and i often mention her when it comes to Translation Stuff etc. she is not on Tumblr anymore but says hello and that if you aren't nice to me she'll kill you

🐻‍❄️ Q: What should I do if I find AI-generated content on your blog?

if i reblog AI nonsense just ping me so i can take it down. it escapes my beholéd brain sometimes

➡️ LAST UPDATED: April 2025

[eclipse-has-adhd]

Unspoken Apologies

Relationship: Aiden Clark/Ashlyn Banner

Characters: Ashlyn Banner, Aiden Clark, Mentioned Taylor Hernández, Mentioned Tyler Hernández, Mentioned Ben Clark

Additional tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Suicidal Ideation, Suicide Notes, Confrontation, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Blame

Prompt: Unwritten/Notes

Content warnings: Suicidal and self-injurious themes. Viewer discretion is advised, especially if you are sensitive to any of these topics.

Host: @sbgpairingsmonth

Ashlyn laid in her bed, she was trying to sleep, but apparently that wasn’t an option. She thought about Aiden, about how he died. It was her fault after all. It was hard to explain, she knew that logically, it wasn’t her fault, but it still felt like it was her fault. She got up from her bed, going to grab her notebook.

She flopped back onto her bed criss cross applesauce. She started writing an apology in the notebook.

Dear Aiden,

My condolences reach out to you. I am truly sorry that you ended up dying in the Phantom Dimension. I failed to protect you, failing my job as a leader, as well. I have failed my job as a leader multiple times, which is why I am resigning as the leader. Tyler and Ben are in charge now, they will take my job as the leader.

Taylor will drive during missions since she has the most driving experience out of you all. The missions you all should need to have completed are getting gun ammo from the gun shop; grab my parents’ military combat gear to use against the phantoms; get gasoline from the gas station(the jeep’s about to run out); and new suits as ours have been broken and torn beyond repair. Yes, this means I am killing myself.

She read it over. Yeah, no, she was definitely not giving him that. She wouldn’t even be able to kill herself without getting caught, anyways. Curse you mother and father.

——————————

Aiden was walking around her house, he was originally going to grab snacks, but he changed his mind. She had also asked him to grab her phone for her, which was also why he was in her room. He saw her notebook splayed open, a bunch of doodles covering the words on the paper. They were probably notes for that one history test, so it wouldn't hurt to read them. So he read them. It was a fucking suicide note.

“Ashlyn, why the actual hell was your suicide note on your desk?!”

“Uh, I got bored?” She sounded unsure about it herself.

“Were you planning on killing yourself when you wrote that? At least answer that honestly,” he asked her, concern evident in his voice.

“God no! I would get caught immediately. I would have to do it in the lobby or some shit.”

“WHY WOULD YOU EVEN KILL YOURSELF IN THE LOBBY????”

“I’M NOT PLANNING ON KILLING MYSELF IN THE LOBBY.”

“THAT DOESN’T MAKE IT ANY BETTER.”

A/N: So, like, I kinda used my suicide note as a template for this.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Stark Contrast 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, lies, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your online friend isn’t who he claims to be.

Characters: Tony Stark

Sister series to Captain’s Orders

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You close yourself in a stall and nearly scream. What the heck? This can't be real. Tony Stark. Eddie. One and the same. It's impossible. 

Think about it. Last night, you texted, then right there, you saw him on screen, check his phone. Coincidence. But then, how did he know your username? He's really good with tech, right? You could easily dox yourself. But then, what about Eddie? Why would he pretend to be some engineer. He is an engineer... 

It's adding up. But it can't. You can't have been talking to Tony Stark for the last year. That's impossible. Not you! 

Alright. You are not going to be his joke. You're going to go out there and tell him you know exactly what he's doing. He's making fun of you and it's not funny at all. Should he, some rich dude, probably the richest dude, have better hobbies? 

You push the stall door and grunt. It's pull. Right. You open it and slip through. 

You hurry to the door and slip in an errant puddle of water. Yeah, it's not your turn to deal with that. Don't stop, don't lose your nerve.  

Who are you to tell off Tony Stark? A billionaire? An avenger? Oof, the more you think about it, the closer you get, the worse an idea this all seems. The more scrambled the words in your head grow. 

You look down the aisles, retracing your steps to where you left him. He's not there. Yet, you hear him. His familiar, quite notable voice, carries in the dead store. Ugh, how did you not realise sooner? Now, you hear it. 

You storm down the soap dish aisle and see him standing casually as he talks to Julie. She doesn't look impressed. You come closer, slowing as his words grow clearer. 

"Yeah, she's quitting." He declares. 

You stop short and do a double take. He's not talking about you. 

"What?" Julie hisses. 

"Yeah, the job sucks. Shit pay," he puts one finger up, his other hand in his pants pocket, "uniform does nothing for that ass, and you're kind of a bitch, Julia." 

"Julie," she snarls and her eyes dart over to you. 

You gulp and sputter. Tony glances at you over his shoulder and smirks. 

"What's going on?" You squeak. 

"Well, sweetheart, I was just sharing the good news that you're moving on to greener pastures." He taunts and turns back to your manager. He tilts his head defiantly. "Not like you'll be hurting. Place is a ghost town." 

You blink as your mouth hangs open. Oh gosh, just when you thought things couldn't get worse. 

"No, I-- I'm not. I don't know him. I don't know what he's talking about--" you argue. 

Julie curls her lip. 

"Ech, you," she points at you, "get out of my store. Now." 

You flinch and look between her and Tony. He steps closer and brings his hand to your lower back. He pushes Julie's hand down. 

"Listen, Julianna, don't point at my girl like that," he warns. 

"Excuse me? This is still my store," she blusters. "I don't care who you are." 

"Uh huh," he clucks and drags his hand along your lower back as he stands straight. He reaches under his jacket and takes out his phone. "Hey, hun," he says as he dials out and puts the phone to his ear, "do me a favour, what's the store number?" 

She scoffs, "go to hell." 

"Fine, whatever," he snickers then leans into the phone, "Hey, Happy, do me a favour, look up the big box store..." he rambles on your city and the location. "Yeah, uh huh. Buy it. No, no, don't ask. Just do it. Thanks." 

He hangs up. You frown and push your shoulders up. This can't be real. 

"We'll wait for the paperwork and all that messy stuff to go through, Jenny," Tony slides his phone away. "But when it does, you're fired. Hell, I might come back just to see you hand in your keys." 

He snorts and swoops his arm around you. You wince as he ushers you forward. You're too dumbfounded to react. What is he doing? What did he do? 

You get outside before you snap back to earth. You plant your feet and try to pull away. He faces you but keep a hold of your arm. 

"So, how about some shwarma--" 

"What did you do? I need this job! I'm-- I'll lose my apartment! Oh, gosh." 

"Relax, that's not going to happen--" 

"I don't-- I-- but--" 

"It's not going to happen, babe," he brings his hand up to frame your face and steps closer, "because you're not gonna be living in that apartment. Say goodbye to this shit heap. You're moving on. Big leagues. New York. I got a nice big condo. A whole tower--" 

"Oh my god," you wriggle free of his grasp and spin away. "Oh, I'm gonna barf. This isn't real. It's not-- Tony-- Eddie. You," you face him again. "Look, this little game, it's not fun for me. You just ruined my life." 

"I bought the damn place. You want a job, I'll put you top of the pay roll--" 

"No, it's-- er--- jeez." 

“Good, because you’re not going to have time,” he goes to grab you and you dodge away from him. 

“Why? Why are you doing this? What are you doing?” You stay just out of reach. 

He smirks, “sweetheart, do you know how many women dream of this? Of me? A handsome billionaire sweeping you away from your boring life.” 

“Other women. Go find them.” 

He laughs. “You’re funny. It’s what I like about you.” 

“Please. Save us both the trouble and just go so I can beg my manager for my livelihood back--” 

You go to step past him and he catches your upper arm. He moves you back and tuts. He’s not smiling anymore. 

“You don’t get it. I’m Tony Stark. I don’t ask for what I want.” He squeezes until you whimper. “So let’s get going. Jet’s waiting.” 

“Jet-- but--” 

“What? Anything you leave behind, I’ll buy a new one, a better one. Now, come on.” He nudges you around and quickly hooks his arm around you. You stagger but he has you scampering. “I’m an important man and you’re about to be a real important woman.” 

“You--you can’t--” 

“I can. I am.” He says coolly as he walks you away from the store. “I flew all the way out here, I told your manager to kick rocks, and now I’m going home with what I came for.” He curls his fingers around your side as a shiny car chirps ahead of you. “Oh, and we both know how you are, sweetheart. You’re not going to stop me.” 

“But-- I--” 

“Private jet’s waiting. I went to all this trouble--” 

“My stuff! My apartment!” You twist out of his grasp. “Wait, wait, wait. This isn’t-- this is a joke.” 

“I’m a funny guy but I have a better sense of humour than that,” he says as he extends his arms. “I’m all yours, baby.” 

You gape at him, “I don’t-- I don’t want... that.” 

“Don’t want me? Don’t want an upgrade?” He scoffs and comes closer, grabbing your hand. “Let me tell ya something. You wouldn’t be so bitter if you weren’t so insecure.” 

“I’m not--” 

“Look, baby, it’s not a bad thing. I’m trying to build you up here. Alright? You hung up on me because you feel powerless, well, I’m gonna give you that power. Money, clothes, diamonds--” 

“Ed-- Tony—I--” you stammer. He’s right. You are helpless. 

“I mean, think about it. Who’s going to stop me?” He grins. “Not you.” 

Your eyes round and you grimace. He laughs again. It irks you. 

“You got no job, soon enough, you’ll be out of that shitty apartment too.” 

“That’s not--” You blink. “Why?” 

“Why? Do I really have to answer that?” 

You stare at him. 

He raises your hand and puts it on his shoulder as he yanks you closer, hooking his other arm around you. You lean away from him as you brace his shoulder. He nuzzles your cheek. 

“I came to take what’s mine,” he growls. “I put too much time into you, sweetheart. Tony Stark doesn’t walk away empty handed.” 

“I’m not... I’m not a thing,” you whisper and look him in the face. 

“No, you’re much more than that,” he assures you as he brings his hand to your chin. “So, let’s get a hop on it.” He drops his hand down your back and taps your ass. “I’m gonna take you back to New York, get you all dolled up, wine ya, dine ya, you know the rest.” 

Your lashes flutter. You’re dizzy. This can’t be real. You keep telling yourself that but here you are. No escape. 

“Alright,” he turns and keeps his arm across your back and checks his watch. “That pilot hates me so better not piss him off. I’ve been in enough crashes.” 

Enough? It’s probably the least concerning thing he’s said. No, it’s just another brick in the wall he built right at your back. 

🔴

You’re so rigid your bones hurt. You grip the arms of the leather chair and stare, wide-eyed, choked into silence. The situation is suffocating enough but it’s that other fear that has you paralysed. 

The thrum of the jet engine has you shaking. You’re still on the ground but not for long. You’re not ready to take off, let alone to go with this man. 

“Have some scotch,” Tony nudges your shoulder from beside you. “It’ll help.” 

You don’t react. You need to get up and leave. He can’t just spirit you away like this. It doesn’t matter if he is Iron Man. Well, you should go but you can’t move. 

“Sweetheart,” he touches your hand. “This your first time?” 

You whimper. 

He snickers and spreads his hand over yours. He peels your grip from the armrest and lifts it. Your trembling intensifies as your chest tightens. You can only think of gravity and its deadly consequences. 

“Here,” he wraps your fingers around the cup of scotch, “drink.” 

You can’t resist him as he guides the brim to your lips. He tilts your hand in his and you swallow before you can gag on the strong liquor. You drain half the glass before he pulls your hand back. You stick out your tongue in disgust. 

“Uck!” You grimace. 

“You’ll get used to the expensive stuff,” he chortles and sits back, emptying the rest. “Is this your only first or should I be gentle tonight--” 

“Stop, please,” your voice quavers. 

“You do know who I am, right? This thing falls apart, I got my suit. I’ll get us where we need to go,” he puts the glass down and sits back. “Besides, it’s safety checked and it’s Stark manufactured. That means it’s not going to go down. I will though, just in case you’re wondering.” 

You look at him and he winks. You look forward and shudder. He grabs your hand and you try to rip it away. He’s too strong. He kisses your knuckles. 

The intercom beeps. The pilot comes on, the one he said hates him, and announces that they’re ready to take off. You close your eyes and push yourself into the seat.  

The plane begins to move. Your breath clogs in your chest. You force it out only as your head begins to pulse. 

Tony pets your hand, “ah, baby, don’t worry. Ton’s here.” 

It’s not helping. It’s just a reminder that this isn’t what you want. That no matter what you say or do, or how you feel, that you have no choice in this. He knows that. He doesn’t mean it. He’s not trying to comfort you. He knows exactly the point he’s making. 

He’s going to do whatever the hell he wants, and you’ll do the exact same. Just like this flight, you’re along for the ride. 

[matcha-milkies]

OCTOBER 14, 1977

Summary: Gravity Falls is a backwards town in more ways than one.

Alternatively: A twenty-something Ford has to listen to the ramblings of two homophobic diner patrons and it is not improving his already questionable emotional wellbeing.

Content Warnings: Homophobia

Tags: Young Ford Pines, Gay Ford Pines, Pre-Portal Incident, Greasy’s Diner, 1970s, Gay Rights, Anger, Loneliness, Estrangement, Ford Pines Has Issues, Ford Pines Needs A Hug, Emotional Constipation

Word Count: 1,013

Link to AO3: Here

A/N: Gay pride is over. Time for gay wrath

Ford is bent over a newspaper at a booth at Greasy’s Diner, hand in his hair, pretending to be focused on the crossword. He taps his pen against the table. If he were actually paying attention he would be done with this “puzzle” in the time it takes to write the answers, but his mind is elsewhere. He picks up his coffee and sips at it tepidly, while the two truckers at the counter rattle off complaints about the state of the country around stacks of pancakes and smiley-face eggs and bacon. Every so often, words like “unbelievable” and “indecent” waft across the space. None of these are the words he needs.

5 across, four letters, unflattering rumors.

Mother. Jobs. School. Children.

5 across, four letters, unflattering rumors.

Right. Wrong. Trees. Fruits.

5 across, four letters, un…

Ford sees the waitress coming his way and flags her down. “Excuse me. Could I get…” A thought occurs to him that almost makes his mouth pull back in a guffaw. He taps his pen a little faster, reconsidering. “…do you have any banana cream pie?”

She doesn’t read the news. She takes the request at face value. “Sure thing! I’ll have it right out.” Hefting a stack of empty plates from another table, she saunters around the counter. Ford watches her leave without really watching her, head perched glumly in his hand. His mouth pulls taut again, and this time it’s in a thin, fleeting frown. The truck drivers are washing their breakfast down with a couple of glasses of orange juice. Ford fixates on the color, his mind beginning to wander as their conversation finally, finally fades to blissful background noise. He sips his coffee.

5 across…

He remembers when his father used to sit him down and explain certain universal truths about the nature of humanity. To watch out for people who would try to tell him lies. Ford had believed so wholeheartedly back then. And how easy it had been, how good it had felt, to be on the right side. The good side.

Maybe he should call his mother. Maybe there are things that she should know. Maybe if he explained them to her, and she explained them to Dad… 

He closes the newspaper. On the front page is a picture that’s supposed to be indecent. Stanley would probably find it funny. Wouldn’t he? Ford thinks about writing in the margins with a Sharpie and looking up Stanley’s address and mailing the paper to him. “Look at this. Look what happened. Isn’t this just hysterical?” That was absurd, they hadn’t spoken in years, why would he send this to Stanley?

The corner of the newspaper is pinched between his fingers and he realizes they’re trembling. Too much coffee. He stows his hands in his lap and waits for his banana cream pie. Unfortunately, somehow, this brings the truckers’ conversation back into full focus, and God, they just will not shut up. Ford has a very active imagination. In his mind’s eye he shoots out of his chair and waves the newspaper around in a half-crazed tirade and starts shouting them down with logic and common sense. He does what he knows he will also do in the shower next week and gets into a full-blown argument with himself, acting out some imaginary scene where he plays all the parts. He tenses in his seat and his fingers curl against his thighs and—

A plate clatters onto the table next to his coffee.

“One slice of banana cream pie!” the waitress chirps. “Can I get anything else for ya?”

“Uh,” Ford says, blinking. “No. Um. No. Thank you.”

“Alright then, enjoy!” She smiles and walks away again. He picks up his fork and just stares at the thing, like he’s going to somehow consume it with his eyeballs. That’s an odd mental image.

It’s a very tasty-looking pie. The white cream on top looks light as a cloud, the crust is golden and crumbly. He can’t remember the last time he treated himself to something like this. Of course, one cannot have the thing and eat it too. He frowns, side-eying the truckers not for the first time. They’re laughing and nudging each other, maybe at someone else’s expense.

He gets up from the cushioned seat, plate in hand. He realizes his hand is still shaking. Too much coffee. Is he really about to do this? His feet move without his permission, one after the other, oh my god I’m actually doing this. He slips into the seat right next to the truckers, an odd smile on his lips. He leans over like one of them is about to tell a joke and he wants to hear it. The two of them stutter and eye him with mostly confusion. The plate lifts in Ford’s hand, heavy at first and then suddenly weightless as momentum builds. He pushes it into the nearest truck driver’s face, and it smears white chunks all over from his dark eyebrows down to his beard.

“Hey!” shouts the other one, shooting up from his seat and knocking the stool over in the process. Ford somehow can’t bring himself to care. He’s doubled over laughing, and he can’t stop, clutching his sides, giving himself stitches, practically suffocating. The first trucker, the one who got hit, is in shock, picking sugary bits of pie out of his beard, more confusion than confection smeared across his face.

Ford wakes from the daydream. He’s still seated at his booth, his pie still sitting neatly in front of him. The truckers are still blabbing on, although they’ve moved on from talk of the press conference. Maybe they did a long time ago. The moment passes. He doesn’t want to get banned from the diner is all.

Still, Stanley would have done it.

What an absurd thought to have. Stanley would never be here.

Ford stabs his fork into his pie and eats it, and to be fair, he does enjoy it very much, although maybe he would’ve enjoyed having it a little more.

A/N: I wrote this to work out some frustration I’ve been feeling lately with gay acceptance, which is better than it used to be but I still encounter people online comparing it to alcoholism which almost makes ME want to dive headfirst into alcoholism so

It was either this or smash mailboxes with a baseball bat

[justtwotired]

Whispers of the night Lloyd G. X F!reader

Part 1 - previous - next

Warning: slight sexual content

Tag list: @cipheress-to-k-pop @whore-of-many-hot-men @bodieohbo @anyth1ngfor0urmoony @luvizuku @viannasthings

Your pov:

I closed the door behind me and waved at Luna who was serving tables. It was a day before Christmas Eve and it was rather busy today.

Normally I don’t work on Wednesday’s, but Luna, who stood alone today, called me as there was an unexpected crowd.

Quickly, I dumped my jacket in the kitchen and headed out to help the people at the counter.

“Are you guys open tomorrow?” The woman asked me and I shook my head.

“Uh no, seeing it’s Christmas Eve tomorrow we are closed, I’m sorry,” I apologised and the woman frowned for a second.

“But I really need a cake tomorrow,” she said and I internally groaned, how did I manage to be here for five minutes and there was already someone being annoying?

“Do you have an order?” I asked, and took the map where we managed the orders from the shelf.

“No? I just thought to swoop by tomorrow and grab a cake,” she said and I let out a sigh.

“Then I am sorry to say that that is not possible, we do not have the time to make a cake on such short notice,” I said and she looked like she wanted to argue but decided against it.

The woman walked out, without any goodbyes and I turned to the young couple who had stood behind her.

“Can I help you two?” I asked, exchanging looks with poor Luna who was stuck talking to one of our regulars. That woman never shut up about herself and escaping was not an option really.

“Yes, please, is there still room for us to sit?” The girl asked and I nodded.

“Uh yeah, at the window over there I think, other than that we’re completely full,” I said and they exchanged happy looks.

“Great, can we get two cappuccino’s then?” She asked and I nodded again.

“Yes, of course,” I quickly wrote it down together with the place they would be sitting. “Please take a seat, I’ll bring it in a second,” I gestured to the spot and they thanked me and walked off.

I quickly headed for the espresso machine and started two cappuccino’s along with a latte, spotting the small sticky note that still stuck to the counter, an order Luna probably hadn’t been able to fit onto her tray.

As I was steaming the milk, she joined me and quickly started arranging a tray for the two yet to be made orders.

“Can you also make a double espresso and a normal coffee for table four?” She asked and I nodded.

“Finally escaped uphill?” I asked amused as I poured the steamed milk into the two cappuccino cups, only to steam milk again for the latte macchiato.

“God, that woman is insufferable,” Luna shook her head and took the two cappuccinos. “Honestly, can’t we just ban her from the shop? If I hear something about her dog one more time I’m going to barf,” she said, walking off as I laughed.

Half an hour later, most people where gone, only three teenage girls and an older couple who regularly came for just two coffee where seated.

“Thank you so much for helping me out here, you are an angel,” Luna came to stand next to me and handed me some coffee, which I found out contained a pump of caramel, when I took a sip.

“Oh I know,” I grinned, watching the rain outside. “I don’t think we’ll be getting a white Christmas,” I pointed out a tat disappointed.

“Oh god, you don’t have to walk home trough this rain right?” Luna asked, giving me a pitying look, making me chuckle.

“Nah, I already managed to get a personal taxi,” I winked and as if on cue, greenie walked trough the door, surprising even me.

I had called Lloyd, but I didn’t know he’d show up like this.

“You called an uber?” He asked amused and Luna laughed next to me.

“Of course,” she said shaking her head, “when one needs a ride home, call the green ninja,” she gave me a look and I shrugged.

“Hey, Lloyd was busy, and I needed a ride, if you have the privilege, you should use it,” I said and headed into the kitchen to grab my jacket.

“Ready to go?” Greenie asked and I nodded.

“Jup, ready as can be, what are we taking? Motorcycle or the dragon?” I asked him, before he could answer, the door opened and the earth ninja also joined us.

“Can you two hurry up? Red is loosing his mind waiting for N/n,” he said and both me and greenie chuckled.

“Yes, coming,” I quickly walked towards the door and followed Greenie out.

“Bye, Lu!” I waved and she smiled and waved aswel.

“O-oh, bye Luna,” Cole noticed her and also waved, making her chuckle shyly and waved back, her cheeks tinted a bit red.

“I will never get over the fact that you have the hots for one of my best friends,” I said when the door was closed, making Cole shush me as if Luna would be able to hear.

Both me and Lloyd laughed at him while he rolled his eyes and flew off on his dragon.

“Trouble!” Kai flew into my side, hugging me making me laugh. “Finally you’re here, these guys where getting boring,” he waved a hand at the others who made offended noises.

“Awe, I missed you too,” I said with a small smile before it fell, “but uh, can we get going? I’m getting drenched and I would appreciate some warmth,” I said making the others chuckle, before calling upon their elemental dragons.

Lloyd held out a hand for me to take, and so I did, before he too, summoned his dragon and we flew off.

“You’ve got to teach me how to do that some day soon,” I said, making him look back at me, “my father never learned me, he never knew how to do it himself,” I explained further and his eyebrows rose.

“I’ll teach you, but let’s get you home first,” he said before pausing, “you can come to the monastery to if you want,” he suggested and a smile grew on my face.

“Yes!” I said excitedly and he chuckled before saluting and taking a turn, changing the course to the monastery instead of my house.

At the monastery, he led me trough the garden, which he hadn’t showed me yet. It was beautiful, all kinds of plants grew everywhere and Lloyd promised that in the spring, the first flowers would start to grow and the whole garden would be full off colour.

I beamed at him and looked back at the garden, imagining it with flowers and other kinds of plants.

The breeze picked up and I shivered, pulling my coat tighter around myself in hopes of warming myself up.

An arm was put around me and Lloyd leaned in close, “let’s get you inside,” he whispered right next to my ear, causing my cheeks to heat up.

Inside, he lead me towards his room and we bumped into Koko along the way.

“Y/n, you’re here, how good to see you,” she pulled me into a hug and I smiled, hugging her back. She put me at arms length and smiled at me, “has Lloyd asked you to spent new years here yet?” She asked and my eyes widened slightly, I looked back at Lloyd who gave me a sheepish grin.

“I was planning on doing that later!” He insisted when he caught his mothers scolding glare. I chuckled at the exchanged while Lloyd crossed his arms and Koko shook her head before giving me an expecting look.

“Uhm, I’ll have to talk to my parents about that first, but I really love the idea, thank you so much for inviting me,” I wasn’t shy in showing my excitement and the woman beamed at me.

“Let us know, I’d love for you to be there,” she insisted before pulling me into one final hug and walking past us, giving Lloyd an affectionate pat on the shoulder before turning the corner.

He took my hand and lead me towards his room, closing the door behind him while I went and took a seat on his desk chair, turning it around so I had my back turned to the desk.

“What are we going to do?” I asked, glancing around the rather empty room.

“Well, I was planning to ask you to join us for new years here, but that plan is ruined,” he hugged and I giggled.

He looked at me and his gaze softened. I sent him a smug smile back and leaned back against the chair a bit more. “What’s the new plan?” I asked, looking up at him and he huffed a small laugh, taking a few steps towards me.

“What do you want it to be?” He shot back and placed both his hands on the desk behind me, causing me to be trapped between his arms, making me look up at him, probably an absolute blushing mess.

“Take a guess,” I breathed out and he looked thoughtfully for a moment.

“Hm, I don’t know, maybe we can watch a movie or something,” he teased and I groaned.

“Oh shut up and kiss me already,” I said and with a chuckle he leaned down and caught my lips in a soft kiss.

My hands clasped around his neck, pulling him into me even more. One of his hands slipped from the desk to my waist, making me softly gasp, he grasped the opportunity to slip his tongue into my mouth, making me absolutely melt.

We parted and he pulled me up to stand, and if it wasn’t for his hands on my waist, I bet my knees would have buckled.

He didn’t waist time to kiss me again and I couldn’t help but softly chuckle at his eagerness, he deepened the kiss and I pressed my body against him as much as I could, if I was able to mold into him I would.

He pulled away and took my hand slowly walking backwards and I followed without much thought, when he sat down on the bed, I softly kissed his lips again before sitting down to straddle him. He moved his hands to my hips while mine were tangled in his soft hair.

Pulling away from me, he started trailing kisses from my jaw down to my neck. I sucked in a sharp breath when he placed and open mouthed kiss on my neck and I completely lost my breath when he carefully nipped at my skin.

I had a complete error at that, it took a moment for me to start breathing again and gave me an amused smirk before pecking my lips again.

“Hm?” He hummed teasingly and I let out an airy laugh.

“God, you’re irresistible,” I said breathlessly causing his cocky smirk to grow before placing another open mouthed kiss on my neck and I couldn’t help but let a whimper escape me at the feeling of bliss.

It only caused him to chuckle in amusement before pulling his head back and kissing my lips again.

Suddenly there was rapid knocking on the door and it flew open a second later.

“Are you two joining us- HOLY FUCK!” Kai covered his eyes in horror. “Damn you two horny ass teenagers, at least lock the fucking door!” He yelled and left the room, shutting the door behind him, his yelling voice disappearing into the hallway.

I met Lloyds eyes and he snorted, covering his mouth with his hand and I followed. We silently giggled and I leaned my head on his shoulder.

“Let’s go see what he was going to ask us,” I suggested with a grin and he nodded and stood up, still holding my waist to put me back on my feet.

He pressed one last kiss to my forehead before taking my hands and walking out of the room. I followed wordlessly, looking at him with adoration, I loved this man so much it hurt.

I spent Christmas Eve the next day at James’ house, just like every year. After eating a delicious meal and finishing dessert, the both of us left our parents and my siblings at the dinner table and head up to his room where we could watch a movie.

“So… are we going to talk about it?” He asked smugly making my eyebrows rise I confusion. Nothing remotely interesting happened at the dinner table today and as far as I knew, there was no drama in either our friendgroup or anyone else at school.

“Talk about what?” I asked, crossing my arms and narrowing my eyes while he just sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Listen here, ma’am,” he pointed at me accusingly, “that makeup on your neck might fool your parents but it ain’t fooling me- now tell me, did you get laid?” He asked and my eyes widened.

I spluttered while my cheeks grew bright red. My hand instinctively shot up to my neck where Lloyd had left hickeys the day before. I had covered them up with makeup so my parents wouldn’t start asking questions.

“James!” I shrieked when I managed to compose myself and went to whack his shoulder while he jumped back, laughing.

“What!?” He called out trough huffs of laughter, “it’s a genuine question- you’ve never done it before, I just want to know how it went!” He insisted before turning serious. “How was he? Was he big? He didn’t hurt you right? How was the experience? Did he take good care of you after?” He shot question after question and my face grew even hotter if that was even possible.

“James!” I interrupted him, “I didn’t not get laid!” His eyes widened at this and than he groaned.

“Still not?” He shook his head and rolled his eyes, “give me his number, I’ll tell him you want to get laid or at least suck his dick or whatever,” he held out his hands as if I would ever give him my phone voluntarily.

“What- no!” I took a few protective paces back, hugging my phone to my chest, “you aren’t telling him that,” I hissed. Even if it’s true.

He huffed and crossed his arms. “Hey- if you want to get laid, you hint to that boy you want to get laid, that’s how simple it is,” he insisted and I dropped my head into my hands.

“God- James stop,” I cried out and he laughed at my misery, making me pick up one of his hoodies that hung over his chair and chug it at him, making him try to dodge it but it went straight into his face, causing me to laugh instead while he gave me an unamused look.

[rajakaen]

Reflection Rtuesday

Help, last week I got tagged by @jukkaricity to participate at @thedissonantverses' share the shit you're holding back Reflection Ruesday

Yeah, I've got way too much stuff lying around or never post finished work 'cause I get super anxious about negative feedback or getting none at all >.> That's why I don’t stress about how long things take, whether I finish them or scrap hours of work if the result fails my expectations. Same with turning drafts into actual stories—I know how they should look and feel and what they're about, but… yeah. A Bad habit? Probably some low-key social anxiety I've picked up over the years. Uploading anything regarding my own thought processes (including OC's) just stresses me TF out ^^; ──────────────────────────────

Anyway… I've been poking at this one drawing of Tahr’rys for over a year now, but I can't bring myself to finish it 'cause I suck at rendering in general; especially faces… ──────────────────────────────

Then there's the ref sheet of Relah—his, uh… she's a good friend of his. Don't ask them about it. They're way beyond complicated lol. I'll finish the sheet one day. There's still so much work to do... (Yes, she's loosely based on Ashara Zavros) ────────────────────────────── Also, tossing in a text prompt I'll probably never write out, but I like it. It's kinda key to Tahr'rys and Relah's dynamic and how their story unfolds. The draft is heavy and moody, as most related to this character. It's a private scene in T's quarter aboard Neo's Freighter, en route from the Outer Rim to the Unknown Regions. Taking place around 32826 TYA / 26 ATC. 3627 Doomsday Calendar

Content Warning: themes related to trauma & mental health

Tahr’rys lived with Neongard for nearly a decade after being captured by the Dar’Manda bounty hunter—three years after his Jōhatsu from the Sith, in the wake of Zakuul’s conquest of the known galaxy's major powers. Over time, their relationship shifted from captor and captive to a working partnership, though not an entirely friendly one. The men spent a considerable amount of time in the cramped confines of Neo’s freighter, the Prancing Anvil, travelling through the galaxy, always on the lookout for a rewarding job. Eventually, the former Sith began helping Neo with his contracts, having nowhere else to go and no idea how to move on—or where to begin.

As fate would have it, Tahr’rys and Relah crossed paths during one of those missions—long after their fallout during their days with the Sith. This time, circumstances between them are different and they have managed to reconnect over the past few months. His years with Neo and everything T has endured since have changed him. Not exactly for the better, but she recognizes that he is less hostile, less agitated. Relah, by contrast, had escaped the Sith and returned to the Jedi, while T was burying himself in the Sphere’s demands. Last time she’d seen him, he had lashed out without warning, how one wrong word had set him off. Still unsure whether this new version of T is truly different, R somehow managed to get him to open up for the first time. 

The two are seated on his L-shaped couch, separated by a small table but maintaining a noticeable distance. The quarter is cool, austere—sparsely furnished and seemingly barely lived in. Nothing lies around; only Tahr’rys’ leather jacket hangs loosely over a chair, while a few scattered items and his saberstaff rest on the desk. On the bed across the room lies a closed holobook. The overall lighting is subdued, with T’s vivarium on the wall casting a soft glow across their faces and the space around them. The air carries the scent of plants and damp earth, laced with a metallic tang and the faint smell of ageing machinery. It is quiet, aside from the occasional creak of the ship’s frame as it travels through hyperspace. Neo is in the cockpit. T sits with his back to us, only part of his profile visible. Opposite him sits Relah, hands folded on her legs, listening intently to his words. Her posture isn’t entirely relaxed and betrays a touch of nervousness. Expressions shift across R’s face—concern, disbelief, sorrow and, occasionally, a faint smile. Her green eyes remain fixed on him. Throughout the scene, T sits motionless, talking with a low, even voice; neither gesturing nor shifting. His posture is stooped, head slightly lowered with his eyes fixed on the ground as if he’s directing his monologue to the floor beneath R, tho his words are undoubtedly meant for her. He speaks about his past, what happened to him, what he participated and what led him here. We can’t hear their conversation. They remain like this for a long while; the former Sith talking and the Jedi listening. Then something he says causes an abrupt change. Relah’s face stills. The colour drains slightly as she blinks once, then again, trying to process what she’s heard. Without a word, she rises, prompting the first visible reaction from T. He lifts his head, eyes catching the light with an uncanny reflectiveness—an orange hue, like dull embers in a dying fire. R says nothing, but the following silence is louder than anything she could’ve said. As she turns away and steps aside, T shifts to follow her with his gaze. Raising a hand in a weak, imploring gesture, but letting it fall almost immediately. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move as she walks past him, leaving the room. Once he’s alone, the man lowers his gaze and folds in on himself, burying his face in his hands and closing his eyes. He doesn’t cry; he simply sits there, silent and unmoving. Whatever he had been processing comes to a halt, his conscious self shutting down entirely. Still, time moves on, and the old freighter hums steadily around him. Metal beams creak and a faint vibration runs through the floor as the Prancing Anvil shifts in hyperspace. The lights dim noticeably as the vivarium adjusts to a new cycle. Somewhere, a system resets with a soft mechanical chime—but Tahr’rys remains unaffected by it all, present only in form. Some time passes before the bulkhead to T’s quarters slides open. Relah enters, carrying two cups of steaming tea. She sets them down on the table in front of him, speaking briefly but not looking at him directly. Then she pauses—something seems off. Her gaze shifts to the man on the couch and her lips form his name. No response. Her brows furrow. She repeats, but still, he doesn’t react. After a moment of hesitation, she reaches out and places a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake. Nothing. She’s never seen anyone—least of all this impossible person—in a state like this. For a few seconds, she just stands there, uncertain. Then she begins pacing the confined space, gesturing as she moves, before finally settling beside him. Even then, he doesn’t react.

Relah exhaled, frustrated, her eyes drifting toward the cooling tea on the table. After a while, she straightens to reach for one and takes a sip, then shifts slightly, sliding a little away from T to get a clearer look at him. He remains hunched forward, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands—his body slack but not fully collapsed, still holding enough tension to keep from completely sinking in on himself. Her gaze lingers, lips tightening slightly as a realization takes shape. This had happened after she walked out. That much is clear. But whatever line she crossed, she couldn’t quite grasp it. There’s no way to reach him and nothing within her abilities might bring him back. Setting the cup back on the table, she leans in again—this time, resting her head against his shoulder, waiting for him to return.