#Because inevitably I end up finding one or more of them *so* much more attractive than one or more of the “official” goals

[garaksapprentice]

New Year, (some) new Goals

This post was originally published on my blog here.

An Unnecessarily In-Depth Explanation of How I Set Yearly Goals

It's a new year, which means that for me, it's time for a new set of annual goals. (These are NOT resolutions. Resolutions are fuzzy and vague, usually cliché things like "lose weight" or "be happier" or "achieve world peace". Goals are things that you can actually aim at, and with enough practice, hit.)

I started formally setting and tracking yearly targets a few years ago, and while I won't call it the cure to all that ails me, it's certainly been a helpful practice. And hey, 'tis the season for everyone's "how I set goals" posts, so who am I to rock the boat?

The TL;DR

I usually start this process sometime in December, whenever the urge to wrap up the current year and look towards the new one starts to itch me. (Incidentally, this is almost the exact same process I use when doing monthly goals, just with less introspection/review.)

It goes something like this:

Review the areas of my life and how things went over the last year.

Review last year's goals - what I hit, what I didn't, what needed changing part way through the year when it became apparent I'd picked an over-ambitious target/something I didn't actually care about, that kind of thing.

Do a brain dump of all the things I want to do next year. Delegate them by life area.

Refine the brain dump over a few days, until I have a reasonable number of targets to aim for over the coming year.

Break those targets down into the things I'll need to do to actually reach the goal I'm aiming for.

Review Last Year

I'll be honest, sometimes I do this after I've worked out the shiny new goals for next year. But I always try to do some form of yearly review, even if it's just a short, half-assed version of the "ideal".

I currently use a (heavily simplified) version of the practice laid out in Alex Vermeer's 8,760 Hours Guide for this step. Finding Alex's guide to use as a springboard was extremely helpful for me. I'd tried doing yearly reviews before, but they never really "stuck" or felt like they were worth the time. For whatever reason, 8,760 Hours was the guide that worked for me.

That being said, I've modified the review framework (usually by removing things) every year I've used it. Alex's guide is super in-depth - he takes a full week to do his review, and he goes hard. While I like to think I'm that kind of person, I'm really not. Some of the review questions and Life Areas Alex uses aren't applicable to me, so I removed or combined things where it made sense. While I love complexity (the PKM scene is like pseudo-academic catnip to my dopamine receptors), at the end of the day I need simplicity - something that both On The Ball Me and Off With The Fairies Me can do.

In the (checks notes) four years I've been using his guide as a framework, I've reduced Alex's twelve life areas down to eight. I've also removed, modified, and combined a LOT of the questions in each Deep Dive. (I removed two more while I was doing this year's review, in fact.) My ultimate goal is to get it down to where I can complete the entire review in about a day, while still feeling like I got my money's worth from the time spent navel-gazing instead of eating gingerbread and knitting.

Brain Dump

Reviewing one's past actions is great and helpful and definitely a path to world peace or Ultimate Effectiveness or whatever, but for me, the brain dump is where the rubber hits the road. I always start my longer-term planning with a list of things I want to do, whether it's for the year or the month. It's essentially a real-life version of "What could happen next?", the question I ask myself whenever I'm running out of plot in my fiction work.

This question is designed to be a free-for-all. I don't let little things like the space-time continuum get in the way at first - it's just one big bullet list of things I've been dying to get to, things that have been bugging me that I want to fix, and usually a few things I feel obliged to add (because I know they're important, but I'm not really enthused about them). Most of the time I've got the first list version finished in ten to fifteen minutes.

(Sometimes there's one specific pile of stuff that's bugging me, making it hard to focus on grander things. (Usually it's the fact that the WIP pile has blown out again, or the house has reached an ill-defined but completely unacceptable level of disrepute. This year it was both.) When that happens, I brain dump all that first, in a separate list. That usually shuts up the brain weasels, and frees up enough mental RAM to get the bigger picture/longer term stuff down.)

Refine the Brain Dump

Once I've got everything down, I keep the list open on my computer and let it percolate for a few days. This lets my subconscious chew on it while I add, remove, and change things. This year's brain dump list ended up with 22 items. That's a typical number for me (the most I've had is 25, the least is 19.) Some are pretty modest, but most are things that will take a fair chunk of the year and my dedication to accomplish (as befits yearly goals).

I also work out which buckets/life areas things fit into - there's usually clear distinctions for most goals (writing, fibre arts, health and fitness etc). If there's lots of goals in one or two areas, and only a couple in others, then that's a pretty good clue about what my next year is going to focus on.

Next comes the hard part - triage.

The first triage step is trying to narrow my "I definitely want to do this thing" choices down as much as possible. This is hard. Everything on the big list is shiny and new and feels so important and urgent right now. That's why I keep the list open after I've made it - looking at it frequently, but not necessarily actively engaging with it, helps my subconscious start to pick favourites. Even so, I'm doing well if I've narrowed the list by half after the first pass.

The second triage step is working out how many of my goals are process-oriented, and how many are product-focused. Process goals involve doing a thing on a regular basis, or for a certain amount of time, every {time period}. Weave for 2.5 hours a week, go hiking twice a month, that sort of thing. They're heavily focused on small, consistent efforts over time, and they're intended to last the entire year.

Product goals require me to do/make a thing, or achieve a benchmark. They're things like "sew X new items for my wardrobe", "finish revising novel Y", "compete in/attend X event". Once that thing or benchmark has been reached, that goal is finished and I don't have to worry about it any more. While I still have to put in time and effort to get to the finish line, it can be much more focused than with a process goal - if I want, I can spend three straight days sewing a shirt, and then not think about my wardrobe goal for six months.

It's both very important and extremely tricky to get the balance of Process to Product right. Human brains LOVE habitual activity and consistency, but they can only deal with so much of it being piled into them at once. (This goes doubly if you're neurodivergent.) I've learned to tilt the balance pretty heavily towards Product when I'm writing my final list.

I try to only have one new process-oriented goal to focus on, at most. Any more than that, and I'm less likely to hit what I was aiming for. (Many of my process goals carry over in some form from year to year. For instance, I always have a word count goal, and some form of fibre-related goal.)

An example: last year, three of my goals were writing related - establish a consistent writing routine, publish at least one blog post a month, and finish revising a novel. The first two were process goals, the last one product-focused.

While I made good progress on all of them, and was happy to declare success based on the spirit of the exercise, I didn't hit any going by the letter of it. Sure, I published 14 blog posts last year - two more than the target! - but there were three months when I posted zero. And while I made my yearly word count target, my consistency was, uh, not great.

Break down the targets you're aiming for

Which brings me to my next tactic. When possible, have more than one way to measure a goal's success.

This is especially important for process goals, which by their nature are easier to 'fail' week to week. Having multiple success conditions gives you greater leeway for when Life Happens At You. Nothing is more demoralising than something happening early in the year, that throws you off your so-far perfect streak, with no way to fix it.

How does this work in practice? I take the weekly or monthly goal that I'm aiming for, multiply that number out to a year, and use that as my secondary aiming point. So "weave 2.5 hours per week" becomes both "weave for at least 130 hours over the year" and "weave 10 hours and 50 minutes every month". If (when) I don't hit 2.5 hours one week, it isn't as big a deal - I can look at how many minutes I was short, and roll that into the weeks left in the current month.

This approach saved my bacon several times last year. I had a couple of big, multi-day conferences and camps that sucked a lot of time and brainpower out of my usual schedule. If I'd just been measuring weekly adherence, I would have "failed" in April and May when I simply didn't have the energy to do that much weaving on top of all the conference prep. But because I was measuring monthly as well as yearly, I simply rolled the two weeks I took off into the weeks before and after the events, and still hit my monthly weaving target.

It can help to think about what the actual point of the goal you're making is, too. For me, the ultimate goal of "establish a consistent writing routine" isn't to have a consistent routine - it's to write more words. I really had no idea what that looked like in January last year. So I decided that "consistent" writing was 30 minutes a day, three days a week. AND I set a year-long word count target of 75,000 words. (I beat the 75k goal by 48 words, but my consistency still sucks.)

Same with blogging. The point behind "publish a blog post a month" is partly to have a consistent output, but it's also to write more words. So as well as the one-a-month goal, I also set a year target of 12 posts, total. Did I post to the blog every single month? Nope. Did I post twelve or more times in the year? Yep! Was that more than I would have posted without having a goal to aim for? Absolutely!

Last, but definitely not least, is to update your approach as the year progresses. Whatever I pick as my 'yearly goals' right now don't have to be the things I work on all year. Life gets in the way, my needs change, I have more or less (usually less) time and energy available than I thought I would.

So I give my "final" goal list (and attached success metrics) a going-over in March to see how it's shaping up. Depending on the year, I'll give it another interrogation in June or July, and adjust or drop goals as needed. Remember, your goals serve YOU, not the other way around.

Last year I started January with nine goals - I had three life areas, and three goals in each area. It turns out that's too many for me to focus on over a year. In March, I dropped one of those goals, and by May, I'd dropped a second. (Both of the dropped items were process goals - things I wanted to do every day or week. They were also, not coincidentally, things I'd added out of a sense of obligation more than actual excitement.)

The Final List

No talk of goal setting would be complete if I didn't share my final list. (I'm also doing the Habitica's New Year's Resolutions set of Challenges again this year, and the first one involves sharing your goals on social media.)

Buy a house

Publish at least one blog post a month/12 blog posts in the year

Maintain daily streak on 4TheWords/write 75k new fiction and 15k non-fiction

Maintain a 5:1 spinning:weaving ratio (ie spend 5 hours spinning for every 1 hour of weaving)

Get - and then keep - the WIP pile below 10

Make at least three new items for my wardrobe (socks don't count)

Attend HEMA training at least four times a month during terms

Take the younger kid (and thus me) roller skating at least 6 times

If we're lucky (or unlucky if you dislike this sort of talk) I'll do a check-in around mid-year to see how I've been doing. If we're less lucky, I'll do a year-end wrap-up thingummy to close out the year.

Either way, hopefully this extremely long and somewhat rambling break-down of my goal-setting is useful to y'all.

#writing #habiticaresolutions #I also keep a “side quests” list of all the goals that didn't make the final cut #Because inevitably I end up finding one or more of them *so* much more attractive than one or more of the “official” goals #and then I can swap them out when it gets to March and I've done 80% of a side quest and less than 5% of a main goal

[melancholyhigh]

CRUSH CULTURE.

ft. college au!leon x reader

synopsis. you fuck up at being leon’s wingman, ruining his chances of getting a valentine’s day fuck. he’s frustrated and takes his anger out on you.

tags. 2.8k words. smut. mean!leon, lowk angsty, reader is kinda pathetic, angry fuck, dry humping, cunnilingus, dom!leon, rough sex, unprotected p in v, degradation, name calling (bitch, whore etc.), happy ending (?).

note. i’m sorry for being so inactive and rarely being online. school sucks so bad. i hope you guys can accept this as a formal apology. (let’s ignore that this is 2 days late.)

masterlist. reblogs & comments are highly welcomed :3

You aren’t the biggest fan of Valentine’s Day. You're sick of seeing everyone fall in love, watching lovers exchange cheesy gifts and bashful smiles. You’re sick of people pretending they love each other more than they actually do. No, you’re sick of being left out.

You were a hopeless romantic, chasing love only for it to fall flat. You were obsessed with finding your other half, the person who would cherish you as much as you treasured them. You didn’t know if you loved love or just the idea of it, but it wouldn’t matter.

You’re only hopeless as you help the man you liked hook up with someone at a shitty college party.

It’s pathetic, truly, chatting up some sorority girls and putting a good name out for Leon while he stood beside you. You didn’t get why he couldn’t do it himself. He was handsome, albeit a bit awkward, but so were you. It’s why you two got along anyway. Leon was watching as you tried to get the drunk girl’s attention on him. Throughout the night, your wingman skills had only failed. They either did not pay attention to you or paid too much attention to you.

You were sick of it. You would have preferred staying in your dorm room and rewatching one of your favourite rom-coms. But you were only a fool, trying to help your friend out. It hurt more being there with him as he lamely tried to pick up girls in front of you. You didn’t know what was more pathetic, his terrible jokes or the state you were, absolutely heartbroken that he wouldn’t give you the time of day he’d give to random girls.

Maybe it’s faith’s cruel way of commentating on your desire for love by making you play cupid for the only person you seem to care about more than yourself.

You and Leon had something special, or you had hoped so. You met in your first year of college. You were both fucking awkward that you had to initiate the first conversation. Majoring in similar subjects, you both had gotten along well. You would even say you were best friends, but you knew deep down you always wanted more.

Ever since you first met, you found him enthralling. It only got worse as you got closer. Learning more about him seemed to solidify your pining for him. You were the only person he talked to, and vice versa. You confided in each other, maybe more than what close friends should, so it was only inevitable that he would share with you that he wanted to lose his virginity.

You had looked at him perplexed. Leon was pretty attractive, and maybe you were biased, but how had no one fucked him? You’ve seen the way girls look at him, blushing when he even glances at them for a second.

That is when Leon told you he planned on trying to hook up with some girl at the party, and he wanted your help because he knew he would fuck up somehow. You had humoured him. Nothing more romantic than taking a random girl home on Valentine’s Day and fucking her brains out.

–-

“It’s not that serious, Leon,” you groaned for the umpteenth time. You were both walking back to his apartment after unsuccessfully trying to hook him up with some sorority girl. He was grumbling behind you, pissed and sexually frustrated.

“It was your fault.” You roll your eyes at his statement. When you reach the door of his flat, you observe as he clumsily takes his keys out, trying to open the door. He finally manages to open the door, and you enter, taking your shoes off before settling on his couch.

You watch him beyond amused at his predicament as he paces back and forth in front of you.

“Why did you have to mention that? They were so into me before you fucked it up,” he huffs, stilling his movement to glare at you.

“C’mon, Leon. I’m sure they couldn’t give a fuck that you’re a nerd,” you said, repeating the same word you had let slip when you were praising your beloved best friend. You peered back up at him, acting casual as if his icy gaze didn’t have your heart beating wildly against your chest. You rarely saw him angry, and when he was, he never directed it to you.

“You ruined my chances at finally getting laid. I don’t know how to talk to these girls. You’re the only person I have.” He’s frustrated with you for fucking up whatever chance he finally had at popping his cherry. Even though logically it’s not your fault nor your duty to get his dick wet, he didn’t want to take responsibility right now.

“I think you’re overreacting,” you sighed, standing up and moving towards him. You try to put a comforting hand on Leon’s shoulder, and he shrugs your touch off him. You don’t take it to heart. He’s a few inches taller than you, head slightly tilted as he looks down at you.

“Yeah? Well, now I have no one to fuck tonight.”

“I can change that,” you quip, and you instantly freeze at your own statement. You part your lips lightly in shock as you observe Leon’s reaction. It was a freudian slip, and it seemed to be happening more often than you’d like.

He continues looking down at you with furrowed brows as he tries to comprehend what you said. He thinks this might affect your friendship if you even mean what you said. He was horny, being teased all night by pretty girls in skimpy dresses, only to be denied, fucking furious too.

“Really?” He responds, somehow stepping closer to you. His eyes flicker down to your lips, and you try to back up, only to be pushed against the wall by him. His stare is still cold, piercing through you. He’s still pissed at you.

“Are you still mad?” You mumbled, your back flat against the wall of his living room. You knew the answer. You just wanted him to say it. Maybe you found his mean side more attractive than you’d like to admit. It was so rare to see him like this — a usually composed man so broken.

“Yes, I’m still fucking angry. Do you want me or not?” He seethes. You squeeze your thighs together at the tone he uses. You were so pathetic, getting wet at him berating you, but any attention was good attention.

He notices your reaction, grinning to himself. “You backing down?”

You shake your head no in response.

“Beg for it then. Beg for me to fuck you. That’s what you want, right?” He says, mocking you. It’s as if he knows how deep your desire burns for him, how badly you’d do anything for him if it meant he noticed you. His hands grasp your face, his fingers squishing your cheeks together as he forces your head back against the wall so you look up at him.

“Please, Leon. Fuck me. ‘M all yours.” You plead through pursed lips. Your eyes are glossy, and he’s laughing at your desperate nature. He would have never expected his best friend to be a whiny mess within his grasp.

He lets go of your face before leaning down, capturing your lips into his for a needy kiss. Your eyes flutter shut, and a surprised gasp escapes you. Teeth clashing, you’re whimpering desperately against his lips as you entangle your fingers into his soft golden locks. His hands trail down to your hips, gripping them as he moves his body against yours.

You let out a soft moan, and he pulled apart from the passionate kiss. Both your lips are swollen and covered with your shared saliva. He continues to grope your body eagerly as he pushes you further into the wall. “Shut up. I don’t want to hear you.”

Biting your lip, you try not to let any moans slip free while he toys with your sensitive body through your clothes. He hooks one of your legs over his hip while he explores your body. He grinds his hardening cock against your crotch, and the action does little to quell the ache inside you.

Your back arches off the wall, your head tipping back as you try to buck your hips to his. Digging your nails into his shirt, he hisses slightly, but your movements don’t get past him.

“So fucking desperate,” he moans loudly.

He continues to rock his clothed erection against your cunt. The rough fabric of your pants provides enough friction through your damp underwear to your clit. Your hand clamps around your mouth shut, suppressing your whines as you near your climax.

Leon’s eyes close while he groans lowly at the pleasure coursing through him as he ruts against you. He wants so badly to feel your dripping cunt against his throbbing length. Just as you’re about to finish, he pulls away, panting, and the feeling in your core dissipates.

“I want to fuck you properly.” You’re unsure if he knew what he had just done, but with the smug look he’s giving you, you’re positive it’s on purpose.

You push yourself off the wall of his living room, and with trembling legs, you follow him to his bedroom. You were familiar with the area and used to the messy appearance while you two were either doing work or binging shows. But it’s different now, he’s going to fuck you dumb in it.

You both begin to rid yourself of your clothes once you’re inside. You’re fully nude, lying flat on Leon’s mattress, and your skin feels tacky with sweat as it clings to his soft sheets. Leon is only in his boxers, precum staining the fabric, as his strong palms spread your bent legs apart to admire your bare pussy.

You realise that this is most likely his first time seeing one other than in porn videos he jerks himself off to. He marvels at how wet you are, your folds glistening with your slick. Leaning down, he buries his face between your thighs, lapping at you.

His tongue teases your entrance before slowly moving to your clit. He alternates between sucking on your sensitive nub and lapping at it slowly. He looks like he’s concentrated as he focuses on pleasing your cunt, his brows furrowed and his nails digging into the flesh of your thighs.

You can’t help the moans and sighs that slip past your lips while he eats you out. The pleasure is nearly dizzying as you grip the sheets. Your hips are bucking against his tongue, and Leon groans as you use his face. He’s not so subtly grinding against the sheets, his cock painfully hard as he fails to relieve the sensation.

Tentatively, he slurps at you, drinking in your essence. The wet, sloppy noises your cunt makes are embarrassing, but he’s obsessed with it and your taste. It’s addictive. He sucks at your clit roughly, adoring the reaction you give him. Your tummy clenches as he pays attention to your throbbing bud. Your sounds are getting more frequent as your orgasm quickly approaches you.

When you finally come undone, your thighs are quivering around his head as he revels in your release. He parts from your cunt, his lips coated in your cum like lip gloss as he licks them clean. Trying to collect yourself, your chest heaves as you pant heavily.

Leon slips his boxers down, revealing his hard-on. His cock was flushed red and dripping with precum as he stroked it. It was average in length but quite thick and prettier than you had imagined. But you shouldn’t act surprised.

You let out a whimper when he slid the tip of his cock through your folds stained with your cum and his saliva. Your pussy was overstimulated, spasming as he teased your entrance with his head.

“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” he groans, gripping your hip to steady himself. The heat of your cunt was welcoming as it tried to suck him inside you. His tip touches your overly sensitive clit. He was quickly losing his composure, desperate to fuck you open.

You both moan simultaneously when he fully enters his length inside of you. Your walls were sucking his cock deeping into you, filling you up to the brim with nothing but him.

You had not imagined your first time with Leon like this. You daydreamed of him taking you out on a cute date before undressing you and then fucking you slowly on a bed littered with rose petals. You did not anticipate that he’d split you open on his cock as a last resort taking his sexual frustration out on you. You can’t complain with how good he’s fucking you, even if it’s out of spite.

He begins thrusting his cock in and out of tight pussy, groaning. You feel each ridge and vein of his cock as he fucks the shape into you. You sometimes forget how well-built he is, usually concealed by his clothes, sweat dripping down his muscular frame.

“Your cock feels so fuckin’ good, Leon,” you gasped out loud, your nails digging into his biceps as he stretched you out of his fat cock.

“This was your plan, huh? You wanted me to fuck you, whore.” He says as he punctuates each word with a thrust.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the tip of his cock presses against you deliciously. You did want him all to yourself, but you wouldn’t go as far as to sabotage him. You’re unable to answer him, too drunk on his cock bullying into that one spot inside of you.

“Answer me, bitch.” He huffs, gripping your jaw and positioning your face to his. He looks into your eyes only to note how they can barely stay open. His hips stutter at your fucked out expression. He was so fucking close, his abs flexing, only holding out so you can cum first.

“Y- Yeah, Leon. Want to you all for myself,” you stammer incoherently, tears collecting at your waterline as he pounds into your oversensitive cunt. Your walls grip around his cock sporadically as you near your climax.

“You like me too, then?” he mocks through clenched teeth. Your pussy hugs him tightly, and he thinks he might never want to leave your warm embrace.

“I’m so close,” you cry out, your body squirming in his hold. Your peak was rapidly approaching as he continued his assault on your pussy.

“Answer the question then you can come,” he whines, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, leaving marks as he nears his peak.

“Mhm! Yes, I’ve always fucking liked you, Leon.” You cried out, eager to expose all your secrets to him if it meant you came. As you climax, your pussy milks Leon’s cock as it gushes around him.

“Oh fuck. I’m gonna cum,” Leon moans, his voice breathy as his orgasm crashes after yours. He doesn’t know if it’s the weight of your confession or the whimpers that escape your throat that send butterflies in him as he spills into you. He kisses you one last time, moaning into you as he rides his high.

Pulling out, he collapses right next to you. You’re both panting, covered in cum and sweat. A wave of exhaustion overcomes you, and you hope he doesn’t bring up what you said amidst fucking. You’re content pretending it didn’t happen if it meant you wouldn’t get to face your fears.

“Thank you for uh,” Leon trails off, and it's like a switch flipped. He’s bashful at mentioning that he had just lost his virginity as if he wasn’t calling you a whore a few minutes ago. Turning to his side, you come nearly face-to-face with him once again.

“Mhm, you’re welcome, I think.” You’re still unsure how you feel about the situation. Finally, you had fucked him, but what significance did it hold to him? Your eyes flutter shut, sleep finally overcoming your wrecked body. You expected the same would happen to Leon, but you were wrong. Leon was in deep thought.

Leon calls your name, cutting your sleep short. You snap your eyes open, sitting up, you await his question with your arms crossed. He looked uneasy, but you’re too drained to question why.

“Did you mean what you said? That you liked me.” His voice is quiet as he gazes at your form.

“Uh, yeah,” you mumbled in response. What was even the point of lying anymore? His cum was dripping between your thighs. What is the worst he can do? You think you can already guess his response. Guilt was eating at you. He wouldn’t be in this position if you did what he wanted. You added, “Sorry for fucking up your night.”

It’s quiet, and you’re nervously trying to gauge his reaction until he breaks the silence.

“I think I found someone better,” he responds. You laugh at the mere absurdity of the entire situation.

“It took fucking me to find that out?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #gender neutral reader #resident evil 4 #resident evil #re4 smut #idk how to do conclusions #✩‧₊˚ fics

[transmascissues]

it's silly but the biggest reason why im not into t yet is bc im so afraid of losing my hair. do you have any solutions/tips for it?

first of all, i don’t think it’s silly — it’s natural to be worried when hair loss is talked about by so many people as like…one of the worst results of aging for men. listening to my dad talk about how much he hates balding definitely did not make me feel particularly good about the knowledge that i may very well be joining him someday. i’m not saying the fear is right, because i don’t think hair loss is something awful that we should avoid at all costs, but it’s an understandable fear given the beauty standards we’re working with, and it’s one that a lot of us (myself included) feel.

one thing that’s helped me is just…paying more attention to the guys that i interact with on a daily basis. i’ve learned two things from it: 1) hair loss is super fucking common. i’d say it’s much harder to find an adult man who isn’t balding at all than it is to find one who’s completely bald. and 2) if you forget everything you’ve been told about how bad hair loss is, you’ll realize that quite frankly, every single one of those guys looks totally fucking fine. it doesn’t ruin their appearance and make them ugly, it looks totally natural and isn’t really even something you’d notice if you weren’t looking for it. we put so much weight on it but it’s really just not that big of a deal. i’ll hear my parents talk shit about men in my family who are losing their hair when i didn’t even notice a difference last time i saw them. it’s one of those things (like so many other appearance-related things) that you really only notice at all because you’ve been taught that you’re supposed to care about it.

this isn’t something i’ve done personally, but if you really want to desensitize yourself to the idea of it, embrace the time-honored queer tradition of just shaving your whole damn head! find out what you’d look like without hair, find out how you feel about it and what you can do that makes you feel good about your appearance without hair, test the waters while it’s still a temporary change and not something permanent. that way, it won’t feel like this big scary unknown, and you’ll actually have a frame of reference for your feelings about how you look without hair rather than accepting the societal assumption that you’ll inevitably hate it. if you don’t want to actually shave your head, you could also just fuck around with bald filters or photoshop and see what happens.

oh, and if you’re attracted to men, keep an eye out for guys who are bald or balding and also hot as fuck. in my experience, there’s no insecurity or potential future insecurity that being gay for other men hasn’t helped me with. just off the top of my head, i can think of a couple actors who i think are absolutely fucking gorgeous who have helped me get over my fears about losing my hair. despite what our anti-aging-obsessed world might want you to think, there is no such thing as a physical feature that automatically makes someone less attractive, and while making attractiveness less of a priority in your life is good, it can’t hurt to also give yourself some proof that actually, you might lose your hair and look hot as hell doing it.

basically, entertain the possibility that it won’t be a bad thing at all! whether that’s just because it turns out to be a neutral thing for you or because you end up actually liking it, it’s not an inherently bad thing. i’ve ended up liking a lot of things that were “supposed to” be bad effects of t — i love the weight i’ve gained and the new shape it gives my body, i get a lot of gender euphoria from the fact that my acne is now on parts of my face that i saw a lot of guys in high school get it and i’m not complaining about the scars i get from it either because i’ve always liked the added texture that acne scars give my skin, and so on. i think there’s a lot of joy to be had in the changes we’re taught to fear, once we look past that conditioning and actually explore how we feel about it.

but if it’s something you really don’t want and you just want to improve your chances of not having to deal with it, it’s not like there’s nothing you can do! products like finasteride (oral) and minoxidil (usually topical but i think there might also be oral versions) are pretty commonly used among trans guys, for the purpose of avoiding hair loss and for other reasons, and there are plenty of other anti-hair loss products out there (though i don’t know how effective any one of them might be). if it’s a big enough deal for you, you can just decide that you’ll go off of t if/when you start noticing signs of it, since no longer having higher t levels would stop the process in its tracks. and if you don’t find prevention options that work for you so it ends up happening, you can always explore different hair styles (judging by the pattern of hair loss i see in my family, i suspect that keeping my hair long would make it less obvious if i started losing mine), find your preferred method of covering it when you don’t feel good about it (personally i love a good beanie generally and would probably wear them a lot more if i didn’t have hair to worry about because my main complaint is the way they press my hair onto my neck), or just shave it all off if you don’t like the look of the partial balding but don’t mind a shaved head. the point being — you have options!

at the end of the day, whether you go on t or not, you’re going to see your body change as you age in ways that aren’t always going to be attractive to others or aesthetically pleasing to you. that’s just the reality of having a body. even if you never went on t, you’d get older and you might see your hair thin out even if you don’t bald, you’ll see your skin start to wrinkle and sag in places that used to be smooth, your metabolism might slow or your body fat might start to gather in new places; hell, you might lose your hair for a totally different reason and end up in the same place but without the benefits of having been on t that whole time. life is full of bodily changes like that. transphobes will fearmonger about the permanent changes of testosterone all day long but the truth is, there is no escaping permanent bodily changes. whether or not you go on t, your body now isn’t the same as it will be in 1 or 5 or 10 or 20 or 50 years, just like it isn’t the same as it was at any point in your life before now. our bodies are never supposed to stop growing and aging and changing throughout our lives. there’s no guaranteeing that we’ll love every single change our bodies go through, but that’s okay! there are so many things in life that are more important than the way our bodies look. even if you go on t and lose your hair and don’t like how it looks, your life won’t be ruined; plenty of other things will bring you joy and more than make up for the insecurities.

just think about the gender euphoria and relief from dysphoria that t could give you. would losing your hair be bad enough to outweigh all of that? or is it just the pressure of a society that decided balding is bad that’s making you fear one single change despite how much joy you could have if you let that fear go? only you can decide if going on t is worth the potential downsides for you, but i suspect that for most of us, the benefits of going on t far outweigh the possibility of side effects like hair loss happening down the line.

#when i say i love helping people beat their fears about t this is what i mean. i will simply write a whole essay about it #some people might think it’s silly to answer a question like this so extensively #but i don’t think it is! i feel like this is a really common fear but also one i don’t see talked about much #maybe because it’s so common among cis guys that people don’t see it as a question to ask in trans spaces? idk #but i think we should talk about it more. especially when transphobes use it as a way to talk shit about t #ask answered #testosterone #hrt #ftm hrt #hair loss #trans men #transmascs

[primehyuck]

MOVES

aka good things take time (the happy ending version)

word count: 11.3k

i first started writing this because i’ve been listening to the song Moves by Suki Waterhouse on repeat, but it became much more than that

contents: long time best friend!haechan, slice of life, pining and yearning, chronological time jumps (mostly college and young adulthood), other members mentioned (Mark and Jeno!roommates), kissing, fluff, wet dreams, a good example of two people who seriously need to communicate, face sitting, morning sex, lots of pet names

“Do you think we’ll be friends for a long time?” Haechan’s soft voice distracts your attempt to focus on a blade of the blurry ceiling fan, unable to keep you cool despite it spinning so fast you think it might fly away.

“How do you mean?” the bed squeaks when Haechan sits up to lean over you.

“Growing up, I feel like my parents didn’t have many friends aside from each other. My mom told me that it’s because when you get older your priorities change and you realize who adds value to your life, and that’s who you decide to keep.” His eyes are glowing with sincerity, body blocking the flow of air from touching you at all “so when we’re older, and married with kids and other priorities, and we maybe live in different cities, do you think we’ll still be friends?”

You stare at him for a moment before shoving his face out of the way of the fans air stream.

“Definitely,” your confidence soothes him enough that he lays back down “if I ever muster up the creativity to come up with a reason to stop being your friend, you have to swear you’ll tell me how stupid I’m being, swear to me.” you smack his chest before he can even answer.

“I swear!” He smiles to himself, staring up at the ceiling with you, rubbing his hand over the warm spot where your hand made contact, melting into the mattress.

———

Growing up people always joked that Haechan and you would fall in love, that it was inevitable, practical even. Because, if you fall in love with your best friend you’ve already conquered one of the highest mountains - finding someone that you like, and who likes you back.

You had both seen the other in a relationship, an inevitability when you’ve been friends with someone since puberty. He’d cheered you on when you had your first kiss during a game of spin the bottle in high school, forced you to come out on double dates with him and a friend of his you didn’t even like just so he could take someone else out, and freshman year of college he’d even introduced you to the person you'd lost your virginity to.

The only time he cockblocked you was when you tried to get to know any of his friends more than platonically, so eventually you gave up and settled for real friendship with all of them.

“Trust me, you don’t want to touch him with a six foot pole.” He’d said freshman year when you had mentioned your attraction to his roommate, Mark.

“He seems so nice, though.” you pouted

“He is nice, but that doesn’t mean you want to be with him.”

“How would you know what I want?” you scoffed, and he looked at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Has the wind beneath my wings ever led you into the wrong arms?” He was highly animated, offended that you would question his judgment.

By the start of sophomore year it was obvious to everyone else that you were strictly off limits. All of his friends had decided unanimously that even if you did attempt anything with them they had no choice but to shut you down. The cold stare Haechan unknowingly serves them from across the room whenever they got too close was enough to keep them away. None of the boys ever minded the boundaries with you, there always was an ease in your friendship since they all knew it could never go further, but that didn’t mean they never thought about the possibility.

One night, at the end of junior year, Haechan is nowhere to be found at his own party and you graciously accept Jeno’s invitation upstairs when you complain of a headache, “we can play Mario Kart, and it won’t be all competitive like when Haechan plays with us.”

It starts like normal, and you're having fun when you realize that your tipsy brain can’t focus on the screen and the conversation simultaneously, opting for the latter as you relax into Jeno’s pillows. You don’t even notice him inching closer to you until his nose touches yours, tugging at a strand of your hair. This is the first time any of Haechan’s friends have shown interest in you, you’d never even been on the receiving end of a flirtatious stare from across the beer pong table, so you take the reins.

Kissing Jeno feels a little bit like winning, like you’ve finally made it past the invisible forcefield Haechan had put up around his friends. The kiss is lazy and hot, Jeno props himself up on one elbow and presses your back into the mattress with his chest. Your eager fingers run beneath his shirt, his abs tightening when you trail them over his sides. Your spine tingles when he groans into your mouth, the hand on your cheek moving to grip your knee and hike your leg over his hip. His hand holds strong around your thigh, and you sigh when he grinds into you.

Jeno pulls away too soon, stopping your hands reaching for the hem of his shirt with a pained sigh as he drops your leg to roll onto his back, flinging an arm over his eyes.

“Fuck, I should not be doing this with you.”

“Why, you don’t want to?” You want to curl into yourself, sitting up to stare down at his shaking head.

“No, definitely not that.” he pulls his arm away to meet your eyes, the alcohol in his veins making him brave enough to admit “Haechan would be pissed.”

“Haechan?” you question “did he say something to you?” Jeno groans, sitting up and hooking his elbows around his knees, staring at the mattress between his legs.

“No, no. He’s never actually said anything,” he knows he’s revealing too much, but he also knows he’s gone too far to stop “we just know he would never want us to cross that line with you.”

“We?” you can feel embarrassment bubbling in your chest at the idea of all of your friends talking about this.

“Yeah, you know, all the guys. We figured you were just off limits, I don’t know.” he grimaces, looking up at you with apologetic eyes when you don’t respond. You huff and climb off the bed, feeling rejected in more ways than one.

You’d crossed a boundary tonight, but Jeno was still a close friend, someone you’d spent a lot of time with since he met Haechan freshman year. He still knows you, so he grabs your wrist before you can leave, shifting to sit on the edge of the bed so he can stand you between his legs.

“I’m sorry, don’t be mad.” He envelops your hands in his and brings them to his chest.

“I’m not mad,” you mumble, avoiding his apologetic gaze “I’m embarrassed that all of my friends agreed not to touch me.”

“Did you really think not a single one of us was ever interested in you?” you shrug and he squeezes your hands tighter, heart tugging in his chest.

“When people don’t act interested, that’s usually a safe assumption.” you pout and Jeno’s laugh buzzes through your linked fingers "I gave up on all of you halfway through freshman year."

“Well, some of us are better actors than I remember.”

He has you laughing by the time you leave his room, sealing the night with one more self indulgent kiss and a pinky swear to never tell Haechan about what happened.

———

Halfway through the first semester of senior year Haechan bangs angrily on his roommates door before swinging it open and Jeno is genuinely shocked that it's taken this long for the gossip to hit his ears. The rest of the boys had clocked Jeno the next morning for being ‘too happy’ and he had to make them all swear not to tell, wanting to protect your pride and his own friendship with Haechan.

"You slut!" Haechan points an accusatory finger in Jeno's direction, dragging his feet slowly toward him until he's so close Jeno has to bat his hand out of his face.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about." Haechan's voice is low and angry, something new and unpleasant sparking in his gut at the idea of Jeno kissing you, touching you.

"No, I don't." Jeno can’t help but antagonize. Pleased with the perfect opportunity to trick Haechan into saying out loud what everyone else seems to have known for years.

"You kissed my best friend!" He shrieks, tossing his hands up in the air dramatically.

"So what, she's not allowed to kiss people?" Haechan squints his eyes at Jeno’s response, scrunching his nose in annoyance “how did you even find out?”

"She can kiss whoever she wants, it's all of you that aren't allowed to kiss her." Haechan waves his hand wildly toward the bedroom door, alluding to the large group of boys living in the house “you know Mark can’t keep a secret, he’s been bursting at the seams for months. All I had to do was ask.”

"It happened forever ago dude, why are you so pissed? You've never even given us a chance to get close to her in that way, maybe one of us could really like her." Jeno reasons, tugging at Haechan's strings, watching the gears in his brain turn as he tries to come up with a real argument.

"She has a boyfriend," Haechan finally says with a frown at the thought of the guy he’d only recently met, he doesn’t like him at all. From his stupid hair to the shoes he wears, there’s not a thing about your new boyfriend that Haechan thinks is good enough for you. He collapses into the gaming chair across from where Jeno is relaxed on the couch, not having moved at all since Haechan stormed in "plus, I think any of you would know by now, you've all known her for four years."

"I think, that it can take a lot longer than four years to realize how much you like someone." Jeno bites, "how long have you known her?"

"Since middle school." He picks at the hole in the knee of his black jeans, realizing what Jeno is alluding to, defensive exterior quickly crumbling.

"Right, I think that if you're blind enough then it can take ten years to realize how much you like someone."

"Well, maybe ten years is too long and that person missed their chance." Haechan turns his head to stare out the window, anxiously spinning the chair side to side.

"You know I'm talking about you, right?"

"God, yes, I know you're talking about me." Haechan glares at his friend, fidgeting stopping abruptly "and I know I've been a complete idiot about it, but like I said, I’m out of time."

———

Haechan can’t stop his free hand from clenching and unclenching as you sob into your pillow, his less angry hand rubbing over your back.

“He told me he saw us moving in together after graduation,” your voice shakes “how do you look someone in the eyes and say shit like that and then sleep with someone else?”

“I don’t know,” Haechan replies earnestly, feeling as helpful as flip flops in the snow from where he sits on the edge of your mattress “I’m so sorry.”

He takes your silence as an invitation, lying on his stomach, face turned toward you, fingers still drawing soothing circles over your shoulder blades. He waits patiently for you to calm down, unease swarming his stomach knowing that even after years of friendship he can’t truly comfort you in this moment.

“I’m so embarrassed.” you sniffle, smearing your face over your pillow before turning to look at him. He holds his breath, waiting for you to collect yourself enough to explain.

“I’m so gullible, he even told me he’s cheated in the past and for whatever reason I believed that he’d treat me differently, that he’d love me enough.” Haechan has to count to five in his head to stay calm before he speaks.

“You have no reason to be embarrassed. The most natural thing you can do is believe someone when they say they love you.” He murmurs, turning onto his side so he can pull you into a hug. When you curl into his body to bury your face in his chest he can only pray you can’t hear his heart pound against his ribs.

“He’s an idiot, and he didn’t deserve any of the love you gave him. I promise, you’re so much better off.”

Haechan hates the piece of himself that’s relieved your relationship has ended. The same piece that hated your ex the minute he met him, that feels heavy in your absence whenever you’re busy with anyone who isn’t him. The piece that crosses it’s fingers whenever you get this close in hopes that you’ll be the first one to cross the line, to finally do what he’s thought about doing for the last few months since he realized exactly how he felt about you.

“Thank you,” you mumble into his tear dampened shirt, lifting your leg over his to cuddle in even closer “thanks for always being my friend, even when I do dumb shit, like let boys be mean to me.”

He nuzzles his nose into your scalp, eyes fluttering shut at the smell of your shampoo “Thanks for letting me. Besides, even Beyoncé got cheated on, so you clearly aren’t that dumb.” the crowd in his brain cheers when you giggle into his chest.

“You’re so annoying.” He holds you even tighter.

———

“I can’t believe it,” your jaw drops and Haechan whips his head up nervously to look at you from across the couch

“What happened?”

“I got it, I got the job!” you shove his feet off your lap to jump up excitedly, bouncing on your toes as you read the email out loud. Haechan’s ears are ringing so loud he barely catches the first half, trying to shake off the dazed look he’s sure appears on his face.

“We were extremely impressed with your resume and even more so with the impression you left on the board during your interview, blah blah blah, excited to offer you this position, blah blah blah, and a relocation bonus to join us in in our new office!” the pitch of your voice rises a few octaves as you finish reading.

Haechan stares at you from his spot on the couch, eyes wide with shock that you’re too excited to notice, skimming your screen as you re-read the details in your offer letter.

His entire body is buzzing, torn between feeling excited at your accomplishment and sorry for himself.

He had a plan, a really good one, he thought. After your breakup you’d made it painfully clear that you wanted to be single for a while, and he knew if he could just be patient, it would all be worth it. So Haechan decided to bottle his feelings up, sitting patiently by your side where he had been for so many years, waiting for you to heal and hoping that when you were finally ready to start dating again he’d have mustered up the courage to make the first move.

“Lee Donghyuck, are you even listening to me!?” you drop your phone to pull him up off the couch, bouncing up and down with your fingers intertwined “I’m moving to my dream city, to start my dream job.” you reiterate and he snaps out of it, sweeping the imaginary shards of glass that his plan had been made out of under the rug and pulling you into a hug.

“That’s amazing, I’m so proud of you.”

“Your enthusiasm is overwhelming.” You deadpan, but squeeze him back just as tight.

“I’m sorry, I’m going to miss you is all.” He admits, "I'd follow you if my job didn't keep me here."

“I’ll make sure you don’t miss me too much, don’t worry.” you plant your cheek on his chest, surprised at the relief you feel in hearing him say it first.

———

This feeling was still a little unfamiliar, nerves. Haechan had never made you nervous growing up; excited, annoyed, passionate maybe, but never nervous.

The nerves began last summer, when he’d come out to visit you for the first time to celebrate his birthday. It was the longest you’d gone without seeing each other since you’d met, almost ten full months and the anticipation was palpable.

When he steps through the airport doors you think that it’s the relief of finally being near him again that knocks the wind out of you. Running into his open arms and being squeezed so tightly in them that you tap his shoulder to let you breathe. Ruffling his hair when he steps back and ignoring the fact that he had grown so much since you’d seen him last.

But as the night goes on, the slight changes to the person you have memorized become glaringly obvious. The way his cheeks have lost some of their cushion, revealing a sharp jaw and pointed cheekbones. The natural wave in his once unruly hair now falling perfectly over his brow bone, he had dyed it a little darker which made his tan skin glow even in dim lighting. Even his smell seemed to draw you into a trance, a much more expensive version of the Haechan you know.

“You know, that group of girls has been staring over at you since we walked in.” You raise your eyebrows playfully, pointing your glass toward the pretty gaggle that keeps walking past the booth you and Haechan occupy.

He doesn’t break eye contact with you before shrugging, “I didn’t come here to see them, I came to see you.” he smiles, punctuating his thought by reaching over the table and tapping your nose.

“I know, I know,” you laugh, batting him away “It never hurts to know when people are staring, though”

His face is unreadable as he rests his arm lazily up over the bench of the booth, body sinking into the seat while he lifts his glass to swirl his drink, biting the words that have been resting on the tip of his tongue the entire trip, and at the end of every phone call since you started your new job.

“How are you, seriously.” You push. In the time since you moved he’d started and ended a relationship with a girl that you’d never met. Your new job kept you so busy that you hadn’t even learned about the breakup until a week later, when you finally had the time to call him back. The guilt of your absence weighs you down, resenting your inability to be there for him the way he had been for you in the past.

“I’m over it, seriously.” You know he’s telling the truth, but it’s in your nature to pry.

“You never really talked about, why, you know.”

“Do I have to?”

“No, I’m sorry, I just feel so behind on your life.” You sigh and push your empty glass to the side, swirling your finger in the ring of cold water it leaves behind.

“It’s okay, really. You’ve been busy, I understand.” He reaches across the table to stop your anxious fingers “I didn’t love her the way I knew I should, that’s all. It’s a good thing that it ended, and I’m happy that it did.”

“That’s all that matters, then.” and he’s grateful that you drop the subject.

You eventually get back to your apartment, both giggly and flush from the alcohol still fogging your brain despite the long walk you'd hoped would lessen it. Haechan holds your hand the whole way back, even when he stops suddenly to pet a dog, dragging you down to the ground with him. He can’t help himself, grateful that at this point you'd touched one another in every way other than what he dreams about most, and you seem oblivious to his need to be so close to you.

As you get ready for bed he lets himself watch you undress facing the wall away from him, unaware of his gaze burning into your backside and the way his fingers tingle at the thought of pulling at the meat of your hips. He scolds his heart for thudding so loud when you squeeze your eyes into a smile at his reflection standing next to yours at the sink while you brush your teeth, the domestication of your friendship that he used to appreciate now suffocating him.

You put on a movie and invite him to rest his head on the pillow in your lap, wishing he could bury his nose into the skin of your thighs beneath it. Halfway through the movie he has to sit up to hide the way his cock is hardening at the feeling of your nails combing through his hair and down his shoulder, occasionally thrumming over his chest. He pulls a blanket off the back of the couch and tosses it over his legs as casually as possible, pulling you into his side by your shoulder, the other arm stretched across the back of the couch.

"Are you cold for the first time in your life?" Haechan never wants to use a blanket, but you’re grateful for the position giving you access to bury your face into his chest, gripping his shirt.

"No, just want to be warmer." he presses a blushing cheek onto the top of your head, trying to think of anything except the way your hair smells, or the feeling of the side of your breast brushing his wrist through your shirt. Haechan feels eighteen again and like he's discovering the connection between romantic and sexual feelings for the first time in his life. He tries to match his breathing to yours, holding his breath whenever you shift in his hold and reconnecting his stomach with your back as quickly as possible. The temptation to pour his heart out is overwhelming, but when he feels your body completely relax into his and your breathing slow down, the words become trapped in his throat, so he lets you sleep.

Haechan had never experienced a shorter 48 hours than that weekend he spent following you around the city you now call home.

You’re shining in your new space, and he happily trails behind you to all the places you’ve discovered in the almost year since you moved. His stomach does somersaults whenever you point something out that reminds you of him.

“I’ve been waiting to come here until you could come with me!” you're so excited to take him to the video game themed coffee shop that your co-workers had recommended “I thought about coming to see if it was even worth it, but I only want to play these kinds of games with you anyway.”

Sometimes he can forget about his feelings for you, when things are just as they always have been. You talk with and touch him the same, laugh at his jokes the same. He thinks that if he were to ever say out loud what he’s been feeling, that the two of you would still be the same but with a little More, ‘you guys’ but on steroids. So when everything is normal he can pretend like it‘a not. He can act like the More is there when you hold his hand to drag him around to the different machines, play games he wants to play even if you don’t want to, you even wipe ice cream off of his chin when his cone starts to melt because he’s talking too much to eat and he wonders why it took him so long to see it this way, and if you could too.

He keeps thinking the moment will come, when he’ll know spilling his guts to you is the right thing to do. But between you gushing over how much you love your new life and your willingness to point out every girl who has blinked at him this weekend, he completely loses the steam he’d gained during his flight, regardless of how his imagination runs wild with the More.

He curses himself the entire weekend for his lack of bravery, hoping that keeping his feelings in is the right decision. After his recent relationship crashed and burned because of his feelings for you he thought he had no choice but to come clean. But watching you, being with you in your new life makes him realize that his role in it hasn’t changed even if his feelings for you have.

The lump in his throat as he stands outside the departure doors is more than just sadness at the thought of leaving you, it’s the realization that he has to let the romantic idea of you go.

“How come you never cry when we have to leave each other,” you hiccup into his chest, and he coos your name lovingly.

“Don’t worry, you know I save my tears for the plane to make everyone in my row uncomfortable.” He knows that you hate that he’s making you laugh at a time like this, pulling away so you can swat his chest and he raises his hands in surrender.

“When will we be able to see each other again?”

“As soon as possible.” He nods reassuringly, wiping your tears with his thumb, heart pounding as he stares into your watering eyes “hey, you’re my best friend in the world, you annoy me every day, and I love you.”

“Whatever, I love you too.” you laugh, but his heart speeds up at the words that you’ve said to him thousands of times. You sweep your arms around him one last time before pushing him toward the airport doors “you better go, if you miss your flight I can’t guarantee I’ll let you leave at all.”

“Don’t tempt me.” He walks backwards slowly, staring at you with a ‘kicked puppy’ kind of face he mastered years ago and you wave enthusiastically, blowing loud kisses into the air that he catches and clutches to his heart.

“This is it,” he thinks, “this has to be it.”

———

Haechan is dreaming about you. He has been nightly ever since he got back from his birthday weekend. He’s grateful the dreams have variety, since some of them overwhelm him to the point of waking up and not being able to fall back asleep.

Sometimes, you’re young again and whenever anyone says “You know, it’s just a matter of time until one of you has a crush on the other.” you both theatrically gag, laughing at each other as if it were the most insane idea in the world. Or, you're sitting on his childhood couch watching your guys' favorite movie for the hundredth weekend in a row, vocalizing the parts of the two main characters and recreating all the best scenes.

Sometimes you’re at his apartment just hanging out together, which are dreams that feel so real he almost expects to see you in his kitchen when he wakes up. Most of these dreams spark a deja vu laced flame in his gut so deep he finds himself confusing them with memories. The ache of missing you wakes him up before his alarm some mornings, and he finds himself face timing you once he knows you're awake just to watch you make coffee and wash your face.

But sometimes, he has dreams that make him feel so ashamed he can barely text you back in the morning. Dreams where he reaches to touch you and you let him, where you tug at his hair and moan his name while he does all the things that he can only do to you in his sleep. He hates to say that these are his favorite, but it's the one dream he knows he'll never actually achieve and he goes to bed every night praying for them.

That’s the kind of dream he’s having when his phone buzzes him awake. He answers without looking because there are only a handful of people who can reach him when he’s on ‘do not disturb’, and you’re one of them. He hums a sleepy greeting into his phone, putting it on speaker next to his pillow and nearly drifting right back into the dream and between your thighs.

“Donghyuck” his eyes shoot open at the sound of your voice “did i wake you up?”

He can practically hear the pout in your voice, squinting at the time on his phone, “Yes, it’s three in the morning,” he stares down to where he’s half hard, running an embarrassed hand over his face even though there’s no possible way for you to know “are you okay?”

“No, well technically yes but I miss you which means things could be better.” you slur your words and Haechan smiles, somehow he's never annoyed that you call him pretty much every time you drink. He thinks it's because he's familiar with this version of you, though he definitely hasn't seen it often since college graduation. This version of you loves him hard, and is never afraid to say it.

"I miss you too," he takes a beat before adding "I was dreaming about you just now."

You gasp excitedly "Really! What were we doing." He smirks at the thought of telling you that you had been sitting on his face, hand reaching back for his cock while he guides your cunt over his tongue until you were shaking above him.

"Just, hanging out." he shrugs. It's his second time this week alone dreaming of your clit bumping his nose, and the thought makes his mouth water.

"I don't believe you." You say accusingly "that's way too boring for a mind like yours to dream up."

"What exactly is my mind like?" He yawns, throwing his forearm over his eyes.

"Oh, you know," you hum "your mind is a galaxy, with at least a billion planets and twice as many stars. I wish I could fly into your head and explore it, but NASA doesn't have the funds."

Haechan holds his breath at your compliment, the smile on his face so wide he can hear it in his own voice "That sounds like an episode of Magic School Bus."

"Your brain is definitely cooler than some cartoon, it's pretty much my favorite place on Earth."

"How would you know, you've never actually been inside?" He shakes his head, teasing you gently. Hearing words like these come out of your mouth breaks his heart and glues it back together at the same time.

"Are you saying you never think about me?" you ask him, not an ounce of sarcasm in your voice.

"I think about you all the time, I promise, all the planets in my brain are shaped like you." You hum, pleased with his response. He shuts his eyes and waits for your answer.

"Yeah, all the planets in mine are shaped like you, too." you pause for a second and add "plus all the stars, I win, I think about you more."

———

This time when Haechan comes to visit you, you know the nerves are more than just excitement at seeing your best friend. It’s a feeling that is nestled so deep in your stomach it makes you a little nauseous. You haven't seen him since you went home for the holidays and he only has one night in the city. You find yourself grueling over your reflection in the mirror, not used to being self conscious in front of him. You’re only going out for happy hour, but you put yourself together to last all night.

When Haechan finally arrives he whistles lowly, making you blush when he pulls out of your hug and requests a spin.

“I appreciate that you got so dressed up for me.” He teases, hoping you don’t catch his eyes sweeping over your legs, wanting to commit you in this dress to memory.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you roll your eyes as if you hadn’t spent the last two hours making sure you looked as perfect as possible. Hoping he doesn’t see the pile of clothes shoved into your closet from all the failed attempts.

“Never,” he grabs your purse off of the counter and opens the door, sweeping his arm out in front of him dramatically “after you. There are some strangers outside who are waiting to catch a glimpse of you, they just don’t know it yet.”

“You are so dramatic.” You lock the door behind you, using the moment facing away from him to collect yourself. Lately you catch yourself wondering if he'd always been so flirtatious, or if you're just forcing meaning behind his words because of how badly you want him to be.

“What, a guy can’t compliment his best friend?”

You smile widely at him and grab your bag out of his grasp, popping your key inside and walking toward the entrance of your building. Praying your fingers stop shaking when you finally get a drink in you. Haechan throws his arm around your shoulders while you walk down the street to your favorite cocktail bar and you're grateful for his usual chatter, talking to you about work and his slow climb up the ladder.

“They put me in a hotel this time, so you don’t have to worry about making me breakfast in the morning.” He smiles at you, sipping his drink gingerly.

“You know I never cook you breakfast.” He feels so far away across the table and you wish that you were sitting next to him instead, shoulders cold without the weight of his arm around them. It feels so good to have him touch you, to feel like you're his. There's a small part of you that feels guilty for using his knack for physical affection to your advantage, he has no idea what the heat of his skin on yours does.

“I know, but all the meetings are in the hotel anyway so it’s easier this time to just stay there.”

You try not to let yourself visibly deflate at the news, wanting to keep him for yourself the whole time he’s in town. His knee presses against yours under the table and you focus all your energy into acting the way you would have before, but you can’t focus on anything else and cross your legs to pull away from him as casually as possible. As badly as you want to touch him, sometimes you can’t.

“What time do you have to be up?”

He groans, leaning back enough that his knee now slides against your shin, “too early,” and glances down at his now empty glass, motioning to the bartender for another “which means you need to drink faster, so I can stop at a reasonable hour.”

You smile, downing the rest of your drink in one gulp, when his foot taps against yours you know it's going to be a long night.

The end of the night finds you together on your couch with a shared bottle of wine sitting empty on the coffee table, his early meetings temporarily forgotten. You and Haechan have been in this position plenty of times, drunk, slap happy and overly touchy in a way that you had always been comfortable being with one another. The difference now is you, this version of you who wants your best friend in an entirely different way.

Every time he pulls you closer you feel electricity shoot straight to your heart so intensely that you have to duck out of his grasp. You don’t know what to do with the feelings that have been growing gradually from your toes up, now practically sprouting out of your scalp with a neon sign blinking “I’m in love with you” over and over.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Haechan whines when you all but flinch away from his hand reaching for his phone near your arm. He’d been aware of it all night, the space you left between the two of you while you walked back from the bar, your sudden inability to maintain the eye contact that he craved. The complete lack of physical touch makes him feel dejected.

“Doing what?” You give him a panicked look, practically sober at the thought of being found out, of what it would feel like to be rejected by him.

“You’re not letting me touch you,” he frowns, and the alcohol buzzes through your veins again “not that you need to let me, but you only avoid it like this when you’re upset. Did I do something?” he pouts, tired eyes low when he flops his head onto his bicep resting on the back of the couch. You forget to breathe for a second when he looks up at you under dark lashes.

“I’m not upset. I wasn’t doing it on purpose.” you’re lying through your teeth, but scoot an inch closer to him to make your point. He doesn’t look convinced, and if you’d had less to drink you may have noticed the mischievous glint in his eye before he grabs you by your arm, knocking you off balance and into his chest.

“See,” he sighs happily, wrapping his arms around your body and you can feel his chest buzz when he hums, cheek pressed to the top of your head. You have no choice but to ungracefully shift your lower body closer to him, making yourself a sponge and soaking in his familiar touch “isn’t that better?”

You nod, “Yes, it is better.” and you really wish he didn’t know you so well, that even in his fifth hour of being drunk he can read your mind. He pulls your ear off his heart to grab your cheeks, smushing them together and whispering your name with a shake of his head.

“What is it?” he urges, and you wrap your fingers around his wrist to loosen his grip. You shut your eyes, take a deep breath and count to three in your head before you can talk yourself out of leaning forward and pressing your lips to his.

You feel him falter for a half second before he’s kissing you back, pulling your face closer and pushing his body toward yours. You can’t hear anything over the blood rushing in your ears when his tongue touches yours, and then suddenly his mouth is gone. He moves so quick you have to put your arms out to stop yourself from face planting into the cushion he had just been sitting on.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” you gasp “i shouldn’t have done that, Haechan, I’m so sorry.”

It takes everything in you to look up to where he’s now standing with his arms crossed over his chest protectively. You have no idea what he’s thinking, staring down at you with wide eyes. Insecurity sweeps through you under his intense gaze, and you almost beg him to say something.

“I’m seeing someone,” the way the confession rings in your ears would have you believing that he screamed the words, but his voice was barely above a whisper “shit, I’m sorry.”

You aren’t sure if it’s your life that flashes before your eyes, or your years of friendship with him, at this point the two tend to blur together.

“That’s-” you sit back on your calves and inhale shakily, knowing it’s not even worth it to attempt to fake any sort of excitement for him “why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugs, swallowing thickly and pulling his eyes away from your face to stare at the ceiling “It’s new and I didn’t know how. It just never came up.”

“Well then, I’m sorry that it didn’t. I shouldn’t have done that, I don’t know what came over me.” grateful that he’s finally the one avoiding eye contact with you so he doesn’t see your legs wobble when you stand “probably best to pretend that never happened. I’m just drunk and I missed you-”

Your name sounds so pathetic when he says it this time and you think it’s the eighth wonder of the natural world that you haven’t started crying yet. You shake your head instead, wishing so desperately that you had changed out of the dress you were wearing as you pull the slinky material down your thighs.

“Honestly, Haechan,” You regret your next words before they even hit the air “you should probably go. You have an early morning.”

The shock on his face pains you, but you can’t stand to see what you can only assume is pity growing in his eyes for another second.

“I don’t want to go, I want to talk about this.”

“I’m sorry.” you say again and his shoulders slump in defeat, recognizing that you’d made up your mind.

“It’s okay.” He means it, shuffling forward and the look on your face is nearly enough to bring him to his knees. His breath catches when you shift away the inch he moved toward you, eyes locked on his and he can see the desperation in them before he hears it in your voice.

“Text me when you get to the hotel?” your voice cracks with a heavy mix of exhaustion and embarrassment that makes him nods once, grabbing his things and walking slowly toward your door. He turns to look at you, but his words catch in his throat when he sees your eyes begin to water, mustering up all his energy to offer what he prays is a reassuring smile before letting himself out.

You sink back into the couch when the door clicks shut, head hanging in your hands as the tears finally start to flow. You cry so hard you feel like you could throw up, replaying his rejection over and over in your mind, shame and regret coursing through your veins. Pure embarrassment heats your body at the look on his face when he told you he was seeing someone, and you’re not sure if it was disgust or pity in his eyes.

On top of the rejection, knowing that he didn’t feel like he could share something as big as meeting someone with you was a dagger to the heart, up until recently you had never kept a secret from him, and even this one you clearly couldn’t keep in for long.

You force yourself into the shower, scrubbing angrily at your skin under the scalding water. You get out once your fingers have pruned and your skin feels raw, avoiding the mirror on your way to your bedroom. You kick angrily at the dress you'd left on the floor, watching it land near the pile of outfits you had discarded while getting ready.

Haechan had texted you nearly thirty minutes earlier

“made it back”

you give it a thumbs up before turning your phone off, setting an alarm with the clock on your side table and letting the emotional exhaustion lull you to sleep.

------

Haechan is realizing that there is no way in hell that you need space more than he needs to talk to you. He tries to call you multiple times the first week after you kissed him but you never answered, and Haechan doesn’t want to push you to the point of no return. What he really wants is to go back in time and not leave you that night, but the pain in your eyes was so pronounced he couldn't bare to make it any worse. The only physical proof that you had kissed him at all being the stupid blue thumbs up on the text he had sent you that night. It's followed by a slew of reassuring texts, saying that he broke up with his girlfriend and if you would please just talk to him, that he's not mad.

This is the feeling he carries with him nearly two weeks later on the flight to you, when he’s sure that another minute of silence from you will kill him. By the time he gets to your apartment it’s almost midnight, so he knocks loud enough to wake you up.

When you open the door in a shirt he thinks might be his, Haechan knows he has no choice. He's speaking before you can say anything, before he can change his mind.

"I came here to tell you that I think you're being really stupid." He curses internally for the obvious nerves in his voice, your tired eyes widen with shock at his words.

"Excuse me?"

"Years ago you made me swear that I would tell you if you ever came up with a reason not to be my friend anymore. So I'm telling you now, I think you're being really fucking stupid."

"I'm not doing that" You defend yourself, tearing up at the sight of him. He pushes into your apartment, shutting the door behind him and standing close enough to touch. He’s staring you down with pleading eyes, and you bury your face in your hands so you don’t have to look at him.

“Then why are you ignoring me? Why won’t you let me fix this?”

“I don’t know I just,” you inhale shakily “I don't know how to do it right now, not like this."

"Like what?" He hopes he already knows the answer, but needs to hear you say it, to know that you’re as serious as he is. Your mouth feels full of cotton when he forces you to look at him by whispering your name, pulling your hands from your face and his heart pinches tightly at the tears welling in your eyes "please tell me, please. Like what?"

"You already know," your bottom lip betrays you, voice weak beneath heavy emotion when you speak "I love you, Haechan. I'm in love with you, and I don't know what to do about it. I feel like I fucked everything up, but I can’t undo it."

He feels his lungs fill with relief. Haechan steps forward to close the small gap between your bodies, grabbing your jaw to rest his forehead against yours. You falter, but his hand on the small of your back keeps you from going anywhere, he's practically panting and you can barely stand, dizzy with the feeling of him. You want to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming when he whispers "You didn't fuck anything up."

He ghosts his lips over yours for a moment until he's sure you're not going to stop him. When he finally kisses you it's with years of pent up adoration, directing your arms around his neck and pressing his thumb firmly into your jaw, long fingers wrapping around the side of your throat. He practically whines when your fingers tighten in his hair and your lips part for his warm tongue. His arm wraps around your waist so tightly you have to hinge backward to keep your mouths connected, gasping at the strength you didn't know he had.

He keeps your stomach flush to his own and kisses you until you're practically limp in his arms, pulling away to breathe. His eyes are shut as he rubs his nose over yours

"I love you, too. I've been meaning to tell you for a while." All the blood rushes into your ears at his words and you can't stop your biggest worry from spilling into the air.

“What if you change your mind?”

“I made up my mind a long time ago, there's nothing you could do to change it." He blinks his eyes open, pulling his face away from yours just enough to see you, the trepidation in your eyes makes him say your name quietly.

"It's only me, you know me," he assures you in a hushed tone "you have to know by now that you are my entire world."

You could laugh, only him, as if he hasn’t been one of the most important people in your life since the day you met. As if he isn’t someone who has seen you at every stage of it so far. It’s Haechan, who has always been funny, who has witnessed the worst sides of you and never made you feel bad, who has never left your side.

You kiss him again, fingers wrapping in tight fists around his shirt to keep yourself grounded. Haechan’s heart pounds happily in his chest and he hopes you can feel it this time, both hands nestling into your hair. He kisses you gently in an effort to slow down your urgent movements, moaning at the taste of your mouth. You fall into his rhythm easily, the way his tongue rolls gently over yours makes your body go up in flames. You move your hands to slide beneath his shirt, landing on the strong muscles in his back and teasing your fingers up his sides.

When you finally come up for air he stares at you for a minute before laughing, stomach tightening beneath your fingers when he does.

"What's funny?" you shut your eyes, leaning your forehead into his chest, letting the pretty sound ring in your ears.

"Nothing, I'm just-" he cuts himself off with a shrug, nuzzling his nose into the crown of your head "I love you, and you love me back. That's all, that's how easy it is."

"It hasn't been easy at all, in fact my life has been very very hard since your birthday last year.” He pulls away from your head to ogle at you.

"My birthday last year?" You nod, feeling your cheeks flush under his intense gaze, it had really been that long "God, I'm sorry I'm such a fucking idiot."

He's kissing you again before you can ask him to elaborate, grabbing hold of both wrists in one hand while he walks you backward and guides you up onto the counter as slowly as he has to in order to keep his lips on yours. His hips are the perfect height for you to wrap your legs around, gasping in surprise when he slides his hands around your ass and presses your core tightly against the growing bulge in his jeans.

You feel shy when you pull away to ask if he wants to go to your bedroom, feeling frozen in place when he stares at you with half lidded eyes, his plump lips swollen and red.

"Tonight, I'm just kissing you." Every cell in his body is screaming in protest at his own words. He can't express how badly he wants to do everything else, to recreate his dreams, to learn the parts of your body he'd never seen before. But he can't imagine doing anything but this tonight, just this; his lips on yours, your breath in his lungs and your body melting into his.

"Why?” your eyebrows pull together in confusion. You practically shiver with need, tucking your arms between your stomachs and burying your nose in his throat. His laugh buzzes against your face, rubbing his hands gently over your shoulders and trying to control his own breathing as your lips brush over his skin.

All he can say is, “Because I’ve been needing to for a long time.”

“How long?” You pull away from his chest, leaning back onto your hands and closing your eyes when he runs his own down your sternum and over your waist, groping at the flesh of your hips and trying not to regret his romantic side.

“Way too long.”

“Your birthday?” you ask, tugging gently at his shirt. He plants his hands outside of your legs to lean in close, one corner of his mouth pulling up.

“Much longer.” Your eyes widen in shock, and he interrupts you before you can question him “can we talk about it later? I have something really important to do tonight.”

———

He tells you that he's had feelings for you since senior year of college, when you kissed Jeno. He tells you about his plan to admit everything when he had seen you on his birthday, but that he was too scared. He assures you he ended his relationship the moment he got back home the previous week “because everyone has felt like a matter of 'when' it will end, not 'if',” He tells you that just two weeks of your silence hurt worse than any previous heartbreak, and you agree. And before you fell asleep next to him he tells you again, ‘I'm so in love with you.’ and shimmies excitedly when you say it back before kissing you until you can barely keep your eyes open. He holds your cheeks in his hands and practically lulls you to sleep with his tongue, plush lips pressing to yours so gently you can hardly feel them dotting around the rest of your face. He thinks he could do this forever before sleep finally catches up with him, his arm slung over your side to hold your face to his chest.

You wake up curled into a familiar side, your first emotion being giddy as the night floods back to you. Despite your obvious willingness to go further, Haechan had meant it when he said he'd only be kissing you. It made you crazy at first, but when the two of you were staring at each other in the mirror with shy eyes while moving through a nighttime routine you had gotten familiar with years before, you were happy he had the self control you clearly lack. The idea of him actually seeing and touching you in ways he never had before, of doing all the things you'd found yourself imagining him doing over the last year; it was overwhelming. Kissing until your jaw was sore and your lips were swollen felt easy.

You’re startled by Haechan’s hand reaching for yours, holding your palm and bringing your fingers to his lips to press a kiss to each one, “good morning.” his voice is deep and tired, mouth landing on the crown of your head.

"Good morning." You press your nose into his chest happily, gripping his hand in yours and resisting the urge to squeal with delight.

"What are you so excited about, me?" He teases, hand falling on your thigh to guide your leg up the front of his, stopping just below his crotch and you hope he's going to give you what you'd been wanting all night, for the last year.

"You, I just can't believe how happy I am." You admit, lifting your head off of his chest to smile at him. He pulls you right back down, kissing your lips once before rolling you both over so he's on top of you. He presses a hand over your collarbone and drags his lips down your chin and over your throat.

"You know, this means you're all mine now." he smirks against your neck when you nod, gasping when he sucks gently at the base. He has one forearm on the mattress, the other hand too gentle on your ribs. You can feel that he's hard and you immediately roll your hips up.

"Does this mean you're gonna do more than just kiss me now?" you intend to sound confident, but it comes out as a whimper. His nose brushes over your jaw before he presses lingering kisses to your chin and cheek.

"Yes, baby, if you'll let me." You nod eagerly, shifting your face so your lips are beneath his and sighing happily when he lowers his weight onto your torso, licking into your mouth. You shiver with anticipation when he pushes at your shirt, long fingers tickling up your side before landing on your breast. You gasp into his mouth when his thumb brushes over your already hard nipple.

Your impatience is overwhelming, grabbing the back of his shirt and tugging it up to his shoulders. He pulls away reluctantly, reaching one hand toward his back and pulling his shirt over his head. You gnaw at your lip, running your hands over his stomach and hooking your knees around his hips as much as you can while stretching your arms over your head.

“Cute.” he murmurs, pulling your shirt up and tossing it to the side. He gropes at your chest, tongue wetting his lips before he leans down to wrap them around one of your nipples. He’s trying to act without thinking, to let the dreams he’s had pave the path down your body because he knows the second he acknowledges his nerves he won’t be able to shake them off. His heart thrums when you gasp above him, arching your chest into his mouth. He’s greedy for your sounds, his hands squeezing your breasts together and licking between them to get to the other nipple. When your hips buck up into his he groans, pulling away from your chest and staring down at you with wondering eyes.

“Can I?” He feels unnaturally shy, leaning back on his calves and watching his fingers press dimples into the flesh of your hips above your underwear, tugging at the hem.

“You don’t need to ask.” He smiles, forcing you to sit by grabbing the back of your neck for a kiss. His fingers press into your clothed core and your hips roll into his hand. He sighs into your mouth at your desperation, torn between teasing you and touching you everywhere.

You can’t keep your legs from shutting around his arm when he pushes your panties to the side and slides his middle and ring finger up your wet center, circling over your clit.

You pull away from the kiss, blinking up at him and your mouth falls open when he presses firmly on your clit, rubbing in slow circles. His head hangs as he lets out a quiet “fuck” at your reaction, moving his hand off your neck to stroke over your stomach and without it behind your head you have to lie back, he presses your legs open. Haechan stares at your chest while he settles between your knees, pushing two fingers inside your dripping core. His jaw hangs open, watching his knuckles disappear inside of you.

“So soft,” he breathes, staring down to where his fingers glisten when he pulls them out to rub over your clit again, palming over his cock getting harder in his sweats “want to be everywhere at once.”

“Want you everywhere.” you whine when his fingers pull away to hook into your underwear, tugging them down your legs. Haechan stands to strip and you hold your breath and soak in the soft swell of his hip that leads to where his cock hangs heavy between his legs. It’s pretty like the rest of him, and thicker than you'd expected with a leaking tip that matches the color of his tongue, he strokes himself once and you don’t get the chance to reach for him before he lays back on the bed, rolling you to sit on top of him. You shudder when your pulsing clit rubs over his stomach, inner thigh squeezing into his ribs. He runs his hands up your waist, scooting you an inch higher and grabbing onto your tits.

“Do you remember a few months ago, when you called me drunk and I told you I was dreaming about hanging out with you?” He shivers when you grind down in response, wet pussy sliding easily over his skin “I lied.”

Your hands press into his chest, tilting your head “what were we doing?” you can barely speak above a whisper when he pinches gently at your nipple with one hand, the other rubbing over your ribs when he smirks up at you.

“You were about a foot higher than you are right now,” you gasp and reach out to grab the headboard when he jolts his hips to move you up his chest, staring down at him with wide eyes as he shifts to wrap his arms under your legs, fingers pressing into your thighs.

“You dreamt about this?” you let him bring your hips to hover over his face, hands falling into his hair when he brushes his nose over your clit as he nods.

“All the time,” he moans and drags you down onto his face, lips wrapping around your clit. You shudder above him, letting some of your weight collapse into your heels and he groans happily at the pressure of you on his chin, pressing you harder onto his mouth to fuck his tongue into you. He wants to devour you, every sound you make goes straight to his cock which is already rock hard at the taste and smell of you. Even just thinking about the fact that it's your hips grinding over his face right now is enough to make him moan into your pussy.

You slur out praise, one of your hands shooting up to grip the headboard. His hands wander gently up your sides, eyes opening to stare up to where he plays with your tits, hard cock pulsing at the sight of your head thrown back, hips moving in gentle circles over his face. Haechan’s hand tugs yours down to his hair, trying to restrain himself from thrusting into the empty air at the feeling of you all over him. He hums happily into your pussy when you start to grind over his mouth, flattening his tongue for you to ride until your legs are shaking.

He lets out a deep “mmhmm” when you warn him that you’re going to cum, suckling hard on your clit until you’re practically begging him to let you go, body crumpling forward with both hands tangled in his hair. He's grateful you didn't touch his cock, just the thought of your fingers wrapped around him is enough to make him cum and he has other plans.

You can’t speak when you collapse onto the mattress beside him, immediately warmed by the weight of his body on top of yours as he slots himself between your thighs, sucking a hickey onto the front of your throat.

“Taste too fucking good,” he hums, mouthing over your chin and cheek “been dreaming of eating your sweet pussy for so long.” you practically swoon when he kisses you, pre-cum wetting the inside of your thigh when he relaxes his stomach onto yours.

“Hyuck, want you in me, please” Your vision is blurry, whining into his swollen lips. He works them over your cheek before pulling away from you, bringing one of your legs up to his shoulder and you rest the other knee on his hip. He can feel himself pant when he taps the head of his cock on your swollen clit, practically drooling when he sticks barely the tip inside before pulling back and repeating the tantalizing motion.

“Been waiting for too long to be teased,” you pout, trying to encourage his hips toward yours with the ankle he’s not pressing his cheek into. He smirks and circles his leaking tip over you again, watching his cock spread your arousal around before he pushes into you a little further.

“I’m taking my time with you, feels so fucking good.” He can’t look away from between your thighs, messy hair hanging over his forehead while his fingers grip your ankle tightly. You whimper when he pulls all the way out again, one more hard tap against your pulsing clit before he pushes himself halfway into your leaking pussy. You rise onto your elbows, trying to reach one hand to grab for his hip but he releases the base of his cock to stop you by lacing your fingers together. When Haechan finally looks into your eyes he bottoms out, stretching your leg toward your chest so he can lean in. His hips stutter, a choked groan rumbling deep in his chest.

“Oh my god, Hyuck please.” you beg him to move with a gasp. His forehead presses to your chin, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Fuck, baby, been needing you," he thrusts into you slowly, lifting his head to look down at you glowing beneath him with your eyes shut. He pulls out all the way before thrusting back inside, quickening his hips when your eyes flutter open, the look on your face enough to make his balls tighten slightly, shutting his eyes to regain self control "knew you'd feel so fucking good."

"M’so full, Haechan." you moan at his words and the rapid slap of his hips on the back of your thighs, forcing your eyes to stay open so you can see his face. The way his nose scrunches with focus when he pulls away from your chest, both his hands wrapping firmly around your hips while he watches his cock sink into you. Brown, shaggy hair sticks to his damp forehead, full lower lip taken between his teeth. He’s pure, unadulterated boyish beauty, and he’s all yours.

You squeak when he lets your leg drop off his shoulder, pressing your thigh as far open as it will go with your heel digging into his backside. He fans his fingers over your lower stomach, thumb reaching down to push your clit side to side and your hips tuck up for more pressure, Haechan moans loudly when the movement causes you to clamp around his cock, "Perfect fucking pussy, can't believe it's mine now. Like my fingers on your pretty clit?”

You nod enthusiastically, letting go of your breasts to hold the backs of your thighs, Haechan's eyes move up your body to stare at your chest move beneath him, nipples looking sweet as candy. He’s dying to sink his fingers into the softest part of your stomach, the way you’re moving for him makes his mind turn to sand. You stare down to where his thumb is making circles over your clit, perfectly timed with the head of his cock bruising your g-spot. You feel a second orgasm build and the corner of his mouth pulls up proudly when your legs shake. Your head hangs back as you gasp for air, "yes, please, Haechan feels so fucking good."

"Make the prettiest noises for me, want you cumming all over my cock." he leans forward just enough to trap your throat beneath the weight of his palms, other hand still moving over your swollen clit. You smile at the pressure of his body on yours, eyes fluttering shut while you moan. You nod desperately when he asks if you can do that, "if you can let me make you feel that good, please, my pretty girl."

He takes his hand off your throat when you cum, wanting to hear every sound you could possibly make. You repeat his name like a blessing that has him cumming with you, moaning and breathless as his hips start to slow, milking you both through your orgasms.

You wrap your arms around him when he pulls out of you, reveling in the feeling of him when he lowers himself down, burrowing his face into your neck and warming your skin with his breath. You hold him there for a minute until he pulls his head up, dopey smile lighting up his eyes and making you laugh.

“What?” you scrunch your nose at him “better than your dreams?”

He nods, “so much better, best I ever had, my body belongs to you now.” he smirks at his own words, but his tone is so gentle he can’t even call it a joke.

“Just your body?” you tease, and he leans his nose onto your lips for a kiss that you carry onto the mole under his eye.

“Body, mind, heart, soul,” he sighs happily when you cup his cheeks in your hands, kissing him gently “all the planets in my head.”

"All the planets in my head too."

————

masterlist

authors note // this ended up being much longer than i anticipated, maybe the longest one shot i’ve ever actually written! i appreciate everyone who voted for happy ending because when i was originally thinking of a sad ending it was too hard lol. this feels forever unfinished because there is so much good to this version of haechan, i adore him.

#haechan #haechan fanfiction #haechan smut #nct #nct dream #nct 127 #nct dream fanfiction #nct dream smut #nct 127 fanfiction #nct 127 smut #nct fanfiction #nct smut

[builtbybrokenbells]

Picasso

after months of silent pining over the boy across the hall, y/n finds herself face to face with the one person she can’t seem to get off her mind. a friendly dinner and a night spent in the art studio leads to more truth being revealed than either bargained for. a profession of attraction leads to an opportunity for an unconventional hookup, where Sam gets to make her first time unforgettable.

COLLEGE DORM AU

Read aftermath here

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 15.5k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it, folks), virgin/virginity talk, losing virginity (sam the v card thief 🫣), praise kink, pet names, sexual anxiety/performance anxiety, soft gentle sex (fuck me up fr), fluff, swearing, anxiety, embarrassing crushes, sorry if I miss any!

😮‍💨 sorry this took so long folks. it’s a lengthy one, so prepare yourself. i got a bit carried away. soft Sam fucks me up real bad. hope you enjoy this as much as i loved writing it!! as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!!

~

You weren’t sure who he was. You had no idea where he was from, what he was studying, or if he even knew you existed. Still, that didn’t seem to stop the awkward staring, or the blushing cheeks, or even the speeding heart rate every time he came into your line of vision. You hated yourself for the uncontrollable longing you felt for the boy across the hall, knowing that you would forever be too nervous to approach first. The first few months of your university experience were relatively normal; meeting friends, studying relentlessly, and trying to navigate a brand new life that was so foreign from the last. Then, after the novelty of freshman year wore off, and the hallways were routinely more empty than you’d grown used to, you started to run into him.

The first time you saw him, you almost missed him. You only noticed the back of his head as he disappeared around the corner. But, almost as if fate was playing a sick trick on you, he happened to forget something in his room. When he came back around the corner, giving you the opportunity to see his face, it felt as though you’d received a punch to the stomach. Thankfully, he was in too much of a rush to notice your staring. His long, brown hair looked messy, yet perfectly styled around his slender face. His jawline was sharp, angled gracefully into a perfect chin. The space just above held his lips, a permanent upturn in the corner adorned on them, although barely noticeable in passing. His brown eyes looked inviting, a colour you could spend all day lost in. Once he passed you, you knew it was too late; you’d already fallen for him, and there was no escape.

Perhaps it was because you came from a small town, one where all of the boys looked like the same person, just in a different font. You’d never met a boy who caught your eye quite like he did. He had a charming aura without even speaking, which was impossible to attain, according to your standards. You never really wasted time on dating, more or less finding it pointless. You were well aware there was no person to find in your town that would work out long-term. You were never a date for heartbreak type, understanding that there was no need of having a relationship if you start it with a pre-existing condition that it will inevitably end. You had a few bad experiences with the boys you’d given a chance, and never tried again. It wasn’t worth the hurt, or the trouble, so you kept to yourself. But, whatever it was about the boy across the hall, you were certain if you ever got the chance, you’d want it to last a lifetime.

After the initial shock of seeing him, you seemed to notice him everywhere. Every time you left your room, his door was open, or he was in the hallway talking to his friends. He was always running into you at meal hall, taking post in your favourite spots in the library, and even in some of your classes. You had no idea how you’d gone so long without noticing him, because now, he never ceased to exist in your mind and your life. You’d never managed to get the nerve to speak with him, or even muster a wave when he passed by. The most the two of you shared was a smile each morning; which admittedly, made your day a whole lot better every time. As unfortunate as it was, the two of you had mastered the art of remaining strangers despite the constant desire to be more.

You never verbalized your feelings to anyone, not your friends, or even yourself. You thought it was a bit ridiculous to be infatuated with someone solely based on looks. Yet, you found yourself creating a fabricated version of him, one that you deducted based on what you noticed over the passing weeks. One where he was funny, in a sarcastic or a goofy type of way. One where he was very laid back, but very involved in the lives of the people he loved. And the worst one of all; one where he was fantastic in bed. You thought it was alright to daydream, even if you would never know for certain in this lifetime.

Despite your mostly quiet pining, everybody around you was well aware of how you felt about mystery boy. Your friends seemed to take extra measures to point him out in a public setting, or ‘unintentionally’ cross paths with him. They never admitted it, but you knew what they were doing. Instead of fighting about it, which would only give them the answer they so desperately wanted from you, you laughed alongside them at the ‘strange coincidences’. Although, one thing inherently positive that came from the whole ordeal, was that you’d made acquaintance’s with his best friend, Danny. You’d found out that he was also in a few of your classes, and lived on the floor above you.

He occasionally stopped by your room for a quick chat, or some help with projects. He was friendly, and tall, and quite attractive, too. You never mentioned his friend that lived across the hall, and he didn’t, either. As far as you were concerned, your friendship with Danny would remain just as such, with no hidden implications about the beautiful boy he spent most his time with. Never once would you ever want to make him feel like you’d become friends with him just to get closer to his best friend, because you didn’t. Any hello, or how are you, or any of the conversations you’d shared had always been because you wanted to talk to him. You liked him, and just so happened to find it much easier to strike conversations with him, too.

You walked down the hallway, pushing your way through the swarms of people preparing to leave for spring break. That Friday marked the end of classes for a week, meaning that lots of people were either packing up to return home for a few days, or headed somewhere much warmer to drink themselves into oblivion. You had opted to stay for the week, finding no real desire to visit your family, and having no available funds to travel the world. All of your friends were leaving, presenting a fantastic opportunity for you to catch up on some schoolwork. You keyed into your room, dropping your bag on your bed and kicking your shoes off. You threw on your slippers and took your hair down from its clip.

You walked into your bathroom, seeing a note stuck on the mirror. You pulled it off, reading over the scribbled words. Your suite mate had left for the week, wishing you a good time and telling you she’d see you soon. You smiled, slipping it into your pocket to add to your collection of first-year memorabilia. You had an elaborate final project planned for your introductory art class, and you were collecting as many pieces to add to it as possible, wanting nothing more than to make a showstopper. You fixed your makeup in the mirror and combed through your hair with your fingers, trying to sharpen yourself up after a long day of classes. As you returned to your room, you heard a knock on your door.

When you opened it, you saw a familiar, smiling face. “Well hello.” You said, pulling the door open fully.

“Hey, Picasso.” Danny greeted. “What are you up to?”

“Just got back, actually. I stayed late at the studio. Trying to get my practical piece done for my painting class.”

“I see. Have you started the essay for poetry?” You shook your head, stomach sinking at the thought.

“I was going to start that this weekend. I just picked my topic. I’ve got a couple years worth of Shakespeare sonnets to read.” Danny was an English major, and you were an arts major, but your classes seemed to cross due to your minor in writing.

“That’s such a cop out topic,” He teased, leaning against the door frame. “And it’s spring break, aren’t you supposed to be having fun?”

“Fuck you.” You laughed, waving your hand to invite him inside. “Spring break is only fun for rich kids taking business majors.” You joked.

“Us arts kids know how to have fun, too, you know. We don’t have to get on a plane to do that.” He reminded you, walking inside and taking a seat on your bed.

“Well, what about you, then? Any big plans?”

“Frankenmuth.” He said, trying to make it sound more exciting than it was. You raised an eyebrow at him, expecting something more to the statement, but that was all he said.

“Enthralling.” You laughed, taking a seat in your desk chair. You watched the people pass by in the hallway, no real thoughts in your head. “Just you going?” You asked, eyes falling on the door closed just across from yours.

“Yeah, my friends are gonna stay here. Just thought I’d go back and visit the parents for a few days. Don’t think I’m staying the whole week.”

“Nothing wrong with that, Danny boy.” You said, flipping your laptop open that was sitting on your desk. “When are you leaving?”

“Tonight, probably. I like driving at night.” You were okay with that, completely agreeing with his statement. There was something very peaceful about driving in the dark, especially when the roads are mostly barren. It was almost like time stood still. You knew the drive wasn’t too long for him, so you had faith he would be alright. “That’s why I came to see you.”

“You’re so sweet,” you grinned, opening Netflix and throwing on the most recently watched show. “Gonna miss me?”

“Of course, Picasso.” He said as if it were obvious. “Come with me, if you want.” He offered.

“You wouldn’t want me to tag along, your parents might like me too much.” He laughed at your words.

“And that’s a problem?”

“You wanna listen to them ask about me for the rest of your life?” You teased.

“Doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.” He shrugged.

“You’re too nice for your own good.” You chuckled. “As much as I would love to spend reading week with you, I very much need access to an art studio and shitty, free coffee refills from the library.”

“I know,” he assured you. “If you change your mind, offers there.”

“Thanks, Danny.” You said, more sincerity in your tone than before.

“The reason I came down here though, was to see if you wanted to grab dinner with us before I leave.”

“Us?” You questioned, cocking your head to the side.

“Yeah, me and Sam. I know you told me your friends already left, so I thought maybe you’d like some company.”

“Oh, so it’s a pity invite?” You smirked. He rolled his eyes.

“No, I want you to come. Thought that was kind of obvious.”

“Just pulling your leg.” You assured him. “Uh, who’s Sam?” You laughed, feeling a little ridiculous for not knowing. He watched you with confusion, waiting to see if you were joking.

“Sam? Kiszka? Like, the guy who lives across the hall?” He asked, completely baffled. “You don’t know Sam?”

“Oh!” Your cheeks turned crimson. “Yeah, I know who he is. That’s your best friend, right?” Danny nodded. “Yeah, I know him. Just didn’t know his name. Never really spoke to the guy.” You laughed, trying to pass off the awkwardness.

“Fuck, y/n, I thought you guys knew each other! I’m sorry I didn’t introduce him to you.”

“No! Don’t be sorry, Danny.” You waved it off. “I never brought it up, either.”

“That’s weird though, cause he definitely knows you. He knew who you were when I mentioned we were working together on that last poetry assignment. I was under the impression that you guys were neighbourly.” He shrugged, confusion still lingering in his features.

“Oh, uh… I guess my names on my whiteboard. Maybe that’s why. He’s definitely seen me around. We smile at each other and stuff in the halls, but that’s about it.” Danny eyed you almost as if he didn’t believe you.

“Well, he seems pretty fond of you for someone he only smiles at in the hallway.” You felt the blush rise to your cheeks again, embarrassed even at the thought of him mentioning your name. “You do know him, don’t you?”

“No, I swear I’m telling you the truth.” You raised your hands in defence. He watched you, scanning your face for a hint of a lie. After a second, his expression lit up.

“You have a crush on him!” He bellowed, feeling accomplished for finally solving the mystery. Your head whipped to the open door, making sure nobody was in the hallway.

“Shut up!” You hissed, making a move to shut the door. “I do not!” You said once you protected the privacy.

“That’s a lie, Picasso.” He let out a disapproving tsk.

“I don’t even know the guy.” You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, he’s attractive, but I can’t exactly like someone I don’t know.”

“Sure you can, and you do.” He grinned. “And you’ll like him even more after dinner tonight.” He decided.

“So now I don’t have a choice if I go or not?”

“No, not at all. I’ll leave you to get ready. He should be back around 6.” Danny stood, not willing to hear any protests.

“Danny, if you say anything to him, I swear to god I will kill-“

“Lips are sealed, Picasso. See you at six.” He sent you a wink before disappearing out the door. You felt your stomach twist in knots, nervous that Danny was going to mention something to him.

You distracted yourself by scouring your closet for something acceptable to wear. You cursed him for leaving so soon; he didn’t even tell you where you were going. You had no idea if you should dress nice, or casual. As you checked the time, you decided that somewhere in the middle would be suitable. A nice shirt and a pair of black jeans, just to dress it down a bit. You went to the bathroom and quickly ran your curling iron through your hair with no real effort, just to give it a bit of volume. You brushed your teeth and touched up your makeup again, spritzing on some perfume before you walked back to your room. You threw on some jewelry, deciding if you were going to properly meet mystery boy, or Sam, rather, you were going to make a good first impression.

When the clock struck six, there was an insistent knock on your door. When you opened it, Danny was beaming down at you once more. “You clean up good, Picasso.” He complimented. Rarely did he ever see you out of your studio clothes; you were always covered in paint, or plaster, or some other sort of artistic expression. You spent more time in the studio than you did anywhere else. Of course, the workload was heavy even for first year, but you spent a lot of free time there, too. It was great for your mental health, and aside from your projects, you made smaller pieces to sell on the side. Unlimited access to art tools was a huge benefit to going to the university you chose, and your talent allowed you to make some extra money. Making a living off something you loved to do made your university experience a million times better.

“Thanks, Daniel.” You laughed. “Ready to go?” You asked.

“Yeah, you?” You nodded. You threw on a denim jacket, finishing off the outfit. You joined Danny in the hall, looking around to spot Sam. When you didn’t see him, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of disappointment.

“Where are we going?” You asked, distracting yourself from the feeling.

“There’s this little Italian restaurant downtown. I’ve been meaning to try it, but never got around to it. Figured tonight was as good as any other night. Is that cool with you?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m not picky.” You assured him.

“Awesome.” He breathed, making a move to the other side of the hallway. He stood before Sam’s door, sending a knock echoing through the air. Within a few seconds, the door swung open to reveal the boy you couldn’t seem to get out of your head. His hair was slightly damp, and the smell of his shampoo hit you almost instantly. He pointed at you without a word, causing you to shoot him a nervous look. He got a small laugh at your reaction.

“You copied my outfit.” He accused, a goofy smile etched onto his expression. You looked down at what you were wearing, then back to him. You were both wearing Jean jackets with a black base layer. After a second, you laughed, too.

“Guess so.” You shrugged, trying to ignore the incessant butterflies running rampant in your stomach. “I’m y/n,” you held a hand out to shake.

“Sam.” He said, reciprocating the gesture. “I guess we’ve never properly introduced ourselves.” He noted.

“Not very neighbourly of us, was it?” You chuckled. His eyes lingered over you, taking in the whole sight before humming an agreement. You desperately tried to fight away the blush rising to your cheeks, but failed miserably. You hoped he didn’t notice.

“I hear from Daniel that you’re quite the artist.” He said, the smile never leaving his face. At his words, the redness on your cheeks completely took over, leaving no doubt that he could see it.

“Modern day Picasso, actually.” Danny corrected.

“You’ll have to show me, sometime.” Sam’s tone was soft, no tone of sarcasm present.

“Maybe I can sneak you into the studio someday.” You offered.

“It’s a date, then.” He said it so effortlessly, like the words meant nothing, but it set every nerve in your body on fire.

“G-guess so,” you tried to cover up your stutter, but they certainly noticed. You were thankful they didn’t comment on it. Sam stepped into the hallway, closing his door behind him. The three of you ventured towards the exit of the building without another word.

The evening was cool, but not unbearable. By the time you’d walked to the restaurant, you had managed to shake some of the nervousness off. The small chatter and jokes eased the tension by miles, allowing you to enjoy the company rather than fear embarrassment. Danny went inside first, Sam holding the door open for both of you. You muttered a small thank you, disappearing inside of the building. The smell of the food was fantastic, and the decoration and atmosphere was incredibly inviting. Danny noticed a ‘seat yourself’ sign, taking it open himself to lead the group to a booth. He slid in one side and you sat across from him. Sam looked between the two seats, ultimately deciding to sit next to you. The booth was tiny, and as he settled and got comfortable, his leg was gently resting against yours. You felt your heart speed, trying not to focus on the constant contact.

You all ordered after taking a good look over the menu. As you were waiting, Sam turned to you to speak. “So, Picasso,” he started. You turned your head to look at him, strangely pleased at the way the nickname sounded on his tongue. “Any travel plans for the week?”

“Oh, no.” You shook your head. “Love them, but my family drives me crazy, and I have too much work to get done to go anywhere else.” You admitted. “You?”

“No, I thought it was best to stay, too. I get what you mean about the family thing. Love them to death, but peace and quiet is nice, sometimes.” He chuckled. “Daniel will have to go on the journey alone.”

“So you guys are from the same town?” You looked between the two. They both nodded.

“Yeah, best friends since, what, middle school?” Danny laughed.

“Pretty much.” Sam agreed.

“That’s cool, actually. Nice that you guys have a piece of home here with you.”

“What about you? Any piece of home here?” You shook your head.

“No, and thank god there isn’t. Wanted to get the hell out of my hometown and start over. It’s worked so far.” You explained.

“Where are you from?” Sam asked, now intrigued.

“Arizona. Small town in the middle of nowhere, where everybody looks and acts the same and you get chastised if you’re any different.”

“Mind-numbing.” He replied. You nodded, unable to agree more. “Everybody needs originality.”

“Not them, apparently. I couldn’t wait to leave, and I never want to go back.” You almost shuddered at the thought.

“So where after this?” Sam never let his eyes leave you, as if he wanted to engrave every detail of your face in his mind.

“Uh, wherever, I guess. I haven’t really thought about it. I may travel for a while if I can before I commit to anywhere.”

“Smart woman,” he gave a small smile. “Know your options before you settle down.”

“Yeah, I suppose you could look at it that way.” Your conversation was interrupted by the waitress bringing drinks and setting them in front of you. You sipped from your straw, pondering what to speak about, next. “What are you taking, Sam?” You suddenly remembered you hadn’t asked him, yet.

“Oh, music theory.” He said. You eyed him in shock, not expecting that answer.

“What instrument?”

“Piano, on the paper at least.” He laughed. “I like playing bass and guitar more, but I figured they’d be more likely to accept me with piano as my focus.”

“Smart move.” You pondered the information for a moment. “Listen to this one,” you caught both of their attention. “So, Picasso, Shakespeare and Billy Joel walk into an Italian restaurant,” you started, causing a chorus of laughter from both boys.

“You play a piano once and you can never escape the Billy Joel jokes.” Sam shook his head, ghost of a laugh still lingering on his lips. You couldn’t help but admire him, feeling the overwhelming curiosity of wondering what it would be like to kiss him.

“You’ll be alright, piano man.” Danny assured him.

“Yeah, you can even sing us a song, if you want. That might make you feel better.” He shot you a look of warning, but there was visible humour laced in it. The both of you were feeling the nervous tension melt away more by the second.

The time passed too quickly for your liking; the meal was fantastic and the company was even better. When the time to leave came around, you were begging the clock just for another minute. You had spent the whole night beating yourself up for not getting over your fear and speaking with Sam sooner. Aside from him being incredibly attractive, he was funny, and charming, and quite sweet, too. You felt like you’d missed out on a lot. Even if nothing romantic happened, you’d could consider yourself content just being his friend. When the waitress brought the bills over, Sam took it upon himself to ensure you couldn’t get your hands on the debit machine. As you all filtered back outside into the cool night air, your feeling of nervousness returned. Looking at Sam, how the glow from the street lights casted over his face, how his hair flowed in solidarity, messy but perfect all in one, made you realize that knowing him only made the desire so much stronger.

Somewhere deep down you hoped he was an asshole, so you could finally shake the hopeless feeling of need for him. The more you talked to him, the more you fell for the goofiness of his aura, the humour he wore so proudly, or the kindness permanently anchored behind his words. He was more than just a pretty face, and to you, it was devastating. The last thing you wanted was to fall for someone, but you were well aware that it had happened long before your night of pasta critique. “You headed back to dorm?” Sam asked, his hand on your upper arm breaking you from your thoughts. You swallowed hard, trying to shake off your brains’ incessant reminders of what it felt like to be touched by him.

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“I’m headed out, now, I think.” Danny said, looking between the two of you. “Packed the car earlier, so I should hit the road.”

“Oh,” you breathed, trying to keep your eyes on him, and him only. “Which lot are you parked in?”

“The one by our building. I’ll walk back with you guys.” You nodded at his words, feeling a sudden rush of relief knowing you wouldn’t have to walk alone with Sam. Not that you would mind being alone with him, more of a fear of embarrassing yourself somehow. The three of you started the short walk with few words exchanged in the process. When you reached the entrance to the parking lot, you all stopped to bid a farewell.

Danny pulled you into a quick hug, thanking you for going to dinner. He hugged Sam, letting him know he’d text him when he was back home. “Might text for poetry help.” You smiled at him.

“You could text me just to say hi, too, you know.” Danny reminded.

“That is my way of saying hi.” You laughed. “Too nervous to be upfront.”

“No need for that, Picasso. I’ll see you guys soon.” He promised. You and Sam waved goodbye as he parted from the trio, leaving the two of you to yourselves. You kept your eyes glued to the ground, wanting to look anywhere other than his beautiful face.

“You have anywhere to be?” Sam eventually spoke. You found the courage to meet his eyes, feeling the butterflies erupt in your stomach once more.

“I was thinking about heading to the studio, actually.” You very much enjoyed your 24/7 access to the art building. It made your usually boring weekends a bit more enjoyable.

“Care for some company?” He smiled.

“You trying to get me in trouble, piano man?” You smirked.

“Nobody will ever know I was there.” He promised. You pondered the idea, realizing that it was more than likely nobody would be there, anyway. It was usually quite barren in the evenings, even more so considering the week-long holiday.

“Okay.” You nodded, holding your hand out for him to grab. “Come on.” He wasted no time slipping his hand into yours. You took off in a run back to the dorm with him following closely behind. You both made it to the front entrance of the building, keying in and immediately running to your rooms. “I just have to change.” You told him before disappearing into your room. You quickly changed into your work clothes, realizing how embarrassing the new outfit was. There was old paint stains on the t-shirt and jeans, years worth of artistic memories begging to be washed away. You didn’t waste too much time dwelling, too eager to be back in Sam’s company.

You were nervous to be alone with him, but the thrill of seclusion with him was overshadowing anything else. You thought maybe you’d be able to unravel some of the mystery, to get a chance to hear about his stories and memories that were hidden away. When you went back into the hallway, Sam was waiting for you. He had also changed into different clothes, a pair of sweatpants and a tattered old band shirt with the logo worn down to just a shadow. He had a sly smile graced his lips. “Ready?” You breathed. He gave a nod, silently hoping you’d reach out for his hand again. When you started walking down the hall, he followed after you, only momentary disappointment taking over.

You walked side by side to the art building, buzzing with unspoken excitement. When you reached the doorway, you scanned your access card on the reader and the lock clicked open. As you pulled on the handle, you looked back at him and pressed a finger to your lips, signalling for him to stay quiet, just in case anyone else was around. Regular students were allowed in the art building during office hours, but art students were the only ones granted access outside of normal school times. You were sure you’d only get a slap on the wrist if someone realized he wasn’t an art student, but you still didn’t want to take the chance. He nodded, ensuring he wouldn’t make a peep. You took his hand again, leading him inside and directly to the stairwell to the basement.

You took a sigh of relief when you let the studio door close behind you. You went right to your small locker where you stored your paint supplies and brushes. You unlocked it with a tiny key you kept around your neck. You pulled out your belongings, nodding Sam in the direction of the main room. The bright fluorescent lights were nothing new to you, but it seemed like it almost caught him off guard. You set your stuff down on a desk and grabbed an easel, carrying it over to where you were planning to sit. “I’ll be right back.” You told him, walking off to a side room. You opened the door, flicking the light on in the small storage space. You grabbed your large canvas, careful not to bump the front of it, worried it still may not have completely dried. You took it back out to the main room and propped it up on the easel, pulling a stool in front of it.

Sam moved a second chair over, sitting beside you. His eyes drifted over the artwork, scanning it intently and drinking up every detail like he needed it to survive. “I see why Danny calls you Picasso, now.” He mumbled, still looking over all of the details. You felt the redness creep up on your cheeks again, flattered at his compliment. “This place anything special to you, or just a stock photo?” There was a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Well, the cabin is. It’s my family’s. We spent a lot of time up there when I was a kid. The background is pretty dramatized, cause my inspiration pictures were a little bland.” You chuckled. “We’ve been working on landscapes, so I figured I would paint something meaningful.” The large oil painting had the image of the aforementioned cabin nestled in a plot of trees. The leaves were radiating the colours of autumn, and the neutral mountains in the background made the colours stand out. A small stream flowed through the mountain valley, and birds floated through the air. There were patches of flowery grass and bushes covering the ground. The outline was finished, and you’d been working on the intimate details of the piece. You were estimating only a few more hours of work, eager to have this finished so you could move on to the next project.

“It’s stunning.” He said, moving back to look at you again.

“Thanks,” your voice was soft, full of gratitude.

“Have you always wanted to be an artist?” He asked. You thought about the question, pondering the appropriate answer.

“I always loved art, but don’t think I actually decided to study it until late into high school. I never thought I’d be able to make it, but then I entered a few contests and won, and I guess it kind of kick started the process of getting here. At first, my parents weren’t super supportive of the idea. I think they’d rather me be a doctor or a lawyer, but they knew it would only make me miserable. Now that they see what I’m doing, and how happy it makes me, they’re a bit more on board. Their encouragement really helped me feel like I was supposed to be here.” You explained. “Deep down, I probably always knew I would do art for a living, but I fought it for a long time. It’s not really regarded as a ‘profession’, and I think that discouraged me for a long time.”

“Don’t ever feel that way again.” He shook his head, looking back towards the canvas. “Someone with talent like this should never second guess themselves.” You swallowed hard, having a difficult time digesting such a compliment. “This is the type of stuff to end up in galleries.”

“You’ll have to let me design your album art when you release your EP, then.” You smiled.

“You haven’t even heard me play yet.” He brushed the comment off, a small laugh lingering in his words.

“Don’t have to, I just know.” You said, pulling out your glass palate. You sifted through your bag of paints, choosing the colours carefully. You squeezed small amounts on the surface, looking back towards the large painting. You started to work, unsure of where the conversation would lead to next.

“What music do you like?” He asked, watching your hands as you painted.

“Everything.” You said, never losing your focus. “Not picky.”

“You have to have a favourite.” He inquired. A smile tugged at your lips.

“Well, yeah.” You rolled your eyes.

“What is it, then?” He laughed, eyes moving to your face.

“Guess.” You thought if he wanted to get to know you, he could work for it, first. At least a little bit.

“You’re a classical person, aren’t you?” You looked at him through the corner of your eyes, furrowing your eyebrows slightly.

“Insulting,” you replied. “You think I’m that boring?” You teased.

“Worth a shot.” He shrugged. “Rock?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I like metal, too, but I mostly stick with rock.”

“Never would have guessed the metal part.” His surprise was showing in his expression.

“Yeah, well, I have lots of tricks up my sleeve.” You chuckled, wiping your brush on your apron.

“Can’t wait to figure them out.” His words were smooth, concise, even, as if he was waiting to deliver the line the whole night. Your stomach fluttered with the thought of him wanting to know more about you. You both fell into a silence, eventually playing music off your phone to fill the stale air. You were fine without words exchanged; you enjoyed him sitting with you while you worked. He didn’t seem to mind either, enthralled in your technique. “What’s your favourite thing to paint?” He eventually disturbed the quiet.

“I like nature. It’s always so calming to recreate. So many different options, and imperfections don’t cause an issue, because nature isn’t perfect. I think that’s what makes it beautiful.” You explained. He nodded along, hoping you would keep talking. You noticed, feeling less reserved about your ramblings, realizing you wanted to share them with him. “Nature is the only constant. It was here from the beginning, and it will be here long after we die, even if it’s changed million times. It carries infinite memories from every era, and it’s our only consistency in this lifetime, and the ones previous. I like the idea of a timeless art piece. If someone looks at this a hundred years from now, they’ll be able to appreciate it the same way we can. Nobody will have to wonder about the origins of the picture. People die, animals pass, but the earth always outlives us. When the day comes and it dies, too, we go with it.” He nodded again, studying your face. He had been for a while, although you hadn’t really noticed. He was watching the way your eyes focused when you were doing delicate work, or how your lips pursed when your brush wasn’t doing exactly what you wanted it to. He also noticed every time you let out a minuscule sigh, content with the flow of the paint, or when you smiled when a familiar song came on the shuffle. He’d been studying you just as much as you did, him, admiring you just the same. He was enthralled in your presence, also never expecting to have you this close to him.

The art of your silent admiration had left little room for belief of a chance for it to happen so intimately. He was basking in the moment, in you. The smell of the paint and your perfume was embedding the memory in his brain forever. The beauty in your passion was electrifying, and he was certain he could watch it all day. He also felt the same when he passed you in the hallways, and caught himself peeking into your room when you had the door open. He felt the same fluster when you smiled at him, and awaited the conversations when Danny spoke your name. He also struggled with the idea of talking to you first, worried about rejection or embarrassment. From what he’d seen, you never showed an inkling of interest, and he didn’t want to come off in the wrong way. When Danny brought the idea of inviting you to dinner, he nearly jumped at the opportunity. Sam’s feelings had also remained quite silent, although his childhood best friend was quick to catch on to the situation. Now with a promise to both of you that your emotions would be kept a secret, it was up to both of you to figure things out. All Danny could do was cheer you on from both sides. “You’ve got a beautiful way of seeing the world.” He noted.

“If you don’t love the earth, you can’t expect it to love you back.” You said, finally turning to look over at him. You were caught off guard at his proximity, noticing he had definitely moved closer since you’d started working. He was sitting a little ahead of you, but his body was turned to be angled towards you. When he caught your surprised look, he gave a small smile.

“I thought you wanted to come and see the art, Sam.” You teased, finding the confidence to make a quick pass about his position.

“I’m looking at it.” He quipped back without a moment of hesitation. You opened your mouth to reply, but couldn’t find any words, flustered at the proclamation. Without another word, he turned to look back at the canvas, leaving you to wonder if his words were satire, or if they had meaning. You took a few seconds to recover, but ultimately pushed the statement to the back of your mind. You continued on, dabbing blots of paint onto the picture and blending it gently. “You know, if you’re looking for a customer, I’d be happy to take this off your hands when you’re finished.”

“You couldn’t afford me, Kiszka.” You joked, using the tip of your finger to get a better blend on a saturated area. You fixed it up with a brush afterwards.

“You think so?” He hummed, not bothering to turn and face you.

“I know so.” You told him, wiping your hand on the apron. You weren’t sure if it was the months of tension catching up to you, or the exhaustion, or the smell of his cologne, but you were desperate for him to turn and face you again. “If you want it, it’s yours.” You breathed, deciding to drop the facade. “Once it’s graded, I have nowhere to put it.”

“How much do you want for it?” He asked, still facing away from you.

“Free, for you.” You said softly, a smile creeping up on you.

“Absolutely not.” He turned now, finally meeting your eyes. “You worked hard on it, you used your own materials. I’m giving you something for it.” He said, finality dripping in his tone. You couldn’t help but shift under his gaze, the authority sending a pleasant jolt of electricity through you.

“Think of it as a token of friendship.” You whispered, unable to stop yourself from looking over his features. The admiration in your eyes was impossible to overlook.

“Friendship?” He questioned after a moment of silence, a new sense of confidence washing over him. “Ouch,” he said, the same cocky smirk playing on the corner of his mouth. You bit the inside of your lip, feeling your breath catch in your throat. You weren’t so willing to fall for the idea that he may have felt the same way. Instead of turning away, he watched you, hoping you’d make a notion of reciprocation. After the shock wore off, you started to understand that he was being serious.

“Courtship?” You corrected yourself, feeling your heart drumming against your chest.

“I think I like that better,” he whispered, eyes falling down to your lips for a second before correcting himself. “Do you?”

“I certainly don’t have an issue with it.” You admitted. He watched you carefully, almost as if he was nervous to advance the situation any further. After a moment of deliberation, he reached his hand up and cupped your cheek, using his thumb to wipe off a smudge of paint.

“Some paint,” he informed you.

“Oh,” you breathed, eyes never leaving him. “Did you get it all?” He inspected further, tucking some hair behind your ear as he did so.

“Mm, I think I missed a spot.” He deducted. You set your palate and brush on the table, not wanting to miss a moment of him. He advanced further, but only slightly, pretending to look harder. You couldn’t fight back a smile. “Want me to get it?” He looked back up at your eyes, hand never moving from your cheek.

“Okay,” you nodded, playing into his act.

“You sure?” He asked again, mostly to tease, but he also wanted to ensure you were comfortable.

“Positive.” You promised. Without wasting any more time, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours.

It was soft, but his lips felt like they were burning into your skin. You reached your own hand out, letting it fall to the back of his neck. You pulled him closer, careful not to get any paint on his clothes in the process. He ran his tongue across your bottom lip, practically begging for more. You were quick to respond, parting your lips and allowing him to deepen the kiss. His other hand slipped to your hip, letting his fingers gently sink into the skin. When he pulled away, you were both breathless and craving more. He let his forehead rest on yours, dreading putting any more distance between your bodies. You gave a smile, unsure of what else you could do to express how you felt. It was like months of torture finally derived into pleasure. No more watching him as he walked past, wondering about his name or what it would be like to say it, or hear him say yours. No more wondering what it felt like to be kissed by him, because now, you knew, and it was way better than you ever imagined. “I’m not sure if I got it.” He admitted, causing a giggle from you. He pulled you in for another kiss, this one shorter and more lighthearted.

“Is it gone?” You asked, intoxicated from the feeling of his lips.

“If I said no, would you believe me?” You could hear his smile in his words.

“Yeah, just because I’d like to kiss you again, though.” His thumb trailed over your cheek as he rested his hand on your jaw. He placed a small peck on your lips, causing you to hum in satisfaction. “I wanted to do that for a really long time.” You said. He pulled back a bit, taking in your expression.

“Me, too.” He chuckled.

“Really?” He gave a nod.

“Since the first time I saw you.”

“Me, too.” You copied his earlier statement. “It’s been a long couple months of admiring you from a distance.”

“Why’d you never say anything?” He questioned, hand still keeping a delicate hold on your face.

“I was scared. Thought maybe you’d think I was weird, or you’d be an asshole. You’re too pretty to be nice, too. It’s not fair.” You laughed. “I didn’t even think you knew I existed.”

“How could I not?” He was almost offended at the thought. You shrugged your shoulders. “You’re the only person I’ve been looking at.” You felt your cheeks heat up again, angry that you couldn’t hide your emotion. “Danny’s been begging me to talk to you for weeks, but I guess I was scared, too.” It clicked in your brain, suddenly making sense why he was so excited when you told him you thought Sam was cute.

“Doesn’t matter,” You told him “We know now.” He nodded, agreeing silently. “Did you want to go back to my room, maybe?” You realized your statement was a bit forward only after you’d said it, but you didn’t really care. You were too caught up in the moment to worry about moving too fast, or any what-if’s. Your small amount of worry was subsided when he immediately stood, holding his hand out to you. You took it, letting him help you stand.

Both of you made quick work at cleaning up the mess you made, buzzing with excitement at the idea of being alone together. Within a few minutes, you had his hand in yours, and you were guiding him back through the unfamiliar building. You checked the main floor before you emerged, making sure there was no security checking out the place. You knew they could be assholes, and almost always asked for an access pass. When you deducted the coast was clear, you pulled him through the lobby and out the front door. You were both in a fit of giggles by the time you reached the dorm building, fumbling with keycards to let yourselves in. The hallways were barren, almost all of the students already gone for their spring trips. It made your journey all the faster, allowing you to make it to your room in record time without any interruption.

You opened the door for him, motioning got him to go inside first. He did so, eyes immediately taking in the sight. He’d caught glimpses of your room, but never got the chance to really see it. There was artwork plastered over the walls, some yours and some from your friends, or even reprints of famous artists. There were ambient lights bordering the ceilings, set to a constant colour. There were paintbrushes and textbooks littering your desk, along with a few empty coffee cups. There were a plethora of Polaroids hung on your bulletin board, a receipt book of memories from the lifetime he wanted to so badly know about. The smell of your perfume lingered in the air and your bed, although messy, looked extraordinarily inviting.

You gave him a small smile, nervous about what he was thinking. “I love it in here.” He said, almost like he could read your mind. You let out a small sigh of relief. His eyes drifted towards the small clay sculptures you’d been messing around with. He leaned closer, smiling at the intricate detail.

“You should come over more often, then.” You smiled.

“I think you’re gonna have a hard time getting rid of me, now.” He laughed. The sound was more beautiful than any you’d heard before.

“Fine by me.” You admitted. “I’m gonna change out of these. Just give me a minute.” He nodded, watching you as you picked some clothes from your closet. You brought them to the bathroom, changing into the shorts and t-shirt. You looked at yourself in the mirror, nearly wincing at the sight. You quickly fixed your makeup with your fingers and brushed your teeth. You sprayed a bit more perfume on the new clothes, and rejoined him. He was still standing awkwardly by your desk, unsure of where to sit. “You can sit on the bed.” You smiled, finding the timidity cute.

“Oh, okay.” He said, looking towards the mattress and sitting down.

“Did you want to watch a movie?” You asked.

“Sure.” He grinned. You went to your laptop, quickly logging in and pulling up Netflix. “I don’t care what we watch.” He admitted. You put on one of the first recommended movies, turning the volume up slightly. You climbed into bed next to him, propping a pillow against the wall and leaning back. He did the same, settling next to you, much closer than anyone else would normally sit.

The intro credits rolled for the movie, giving you a moment to relax from the close proximity. You leaned into him slightly, but not enough to make it obvious. You pulled your comforter over your legs, snuggling into the warmth. You let your hand rest on top of the blanket as you eyed his sitting in his lap. You’d been on dates, but not once since you moved away from your hometown had you felt so adolescent in romance. It felt like you were going through the motions for the first time, completely blind in knowledge. You had no idea how to approach him, how to initiate any of the intimacy you’d been yearning for. You hadn’t noticed you were staring at him, but he certainly did. He looked over to you, giving you a small, soft smile. In response, it made your heart skip a beat.

He took the opportunity to reach over and slip his hand into yours, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. The contact immediately subsided your anxiety, and you finally felt the ability to focus on the screen. After a few moments, you even found the courage to rest your head on his shoulder. The both of you watched the movie in silence, his thumb rubbing small circles over the back of your hand while you did so. As the film progressed, so did your comfortability. By the middle of it, you both had shifted dramatically. He was laying down, and you were resting atop of him, head nestled in his chest. His palm was firmly planted on your lower back, and his other gently tracing shapes into your arm. If you weren’t so energized from being so close to him, you were certain you could fall asleep in that position.

His hand that was on your arm moved to your face, fingers gently pushing your hair away. You closed your eyes, revelling in the feeling. He gently combed through the knots before settling his hand back on your cheek. He guided you to look up at him, sending a smile your way. You returned it, thinking that you would be fine if his face was the only one you could ever see again. “Thanks for inviting me over.” He said, admiring every feature. He knew that you were beautiful from every time he’d seen you before that night, but he realized that he’d been missing out on the best part. Having you laying with him, sleepiness laced in your eyes, made him realize that there was never a time where you were more beautiful. The innocent intimacy was overwhelming in the best possible way, leaving him to believe he could die happy as long as he got to hold you.

“It’s crazy, you know.” You sighed, propping yourself up on your elbow to get a better look at him.

“Hmm?” He replied, fingers dancing in the ends of your hair.

“I spent so long with this stupid little crush. I think because of it, I kind of put you on a pedestal. I forgot you were a person, too. I never believed that I could ever be with you like this. It always felt impossible.”

“I did the same thing.” He admitted, feeling better about it knowing you felt that way, too. “It’s weird. Dating in college is so much different than high school.” He chuckled. You nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly.

“It feels more… adult. In high school, I had to ask my parents permission to go on a date. Now, I can just invite you over whenever I want.” You thought aloud. “But I don’t feel any different. I still feel the same as I did a year ago.”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “It’s strange, knowing that we’re supposed to be adults, now. Especially when I still feel like a kid.”

“I think it’s a good buffer period,” you shrugged. “Pretend to be adults, get the experience, but still be able to make mistakes and learn from them. We get to practice living alone and being responsible, but still get to do stupid shit.” He laughed at your comment, but understood your point.

“I like you, Picasso.” He said, his hand landing on the back of your neck. You smiled at the words.

“I like you, too.” You admitted, eyes trailing over his face in admiration.

“I think it would be cool if we could do stupid shit and learn from our mistakes… together.” He mumbled, gaze focused only on you.

“What are you saying, Billy Joel?” You smirked as he rolled his eyes at the nickname.

“I’m saying,” he paused, eyes flickering down to your lips for a moment. “I would like to do this…. more often.” He articulated his words carefully, a bit nervous to say them.

“I think that would be quite alright.” You deducted. He visibly relaxed at your confirmation. “I… uh, I’m not good at this stuff.” You admitted.

“That’s okay.” He said, tangling his fingers in the hair at the base of your skull. He gently massaged his fingers over your scalp, causing a slight hum of pleasure from you. “That’s part of the making mistakes and learning from them, right?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, entranced in the feeling of him touching you. “I’ve never really had a boyfriend, or anything like that. Been on a few dates, but they ended pretty terribly.” You admitted. He cocked his head to the side, studying you as you spoke. “Like I said before, all of the boys from my hometown are all the same. I learned my lesson, and I realized nothing meaningful would ever come from it, so I just… didn’t.”

“You can talk about it, if you want.” He offered.

“There’s really not much to talk about.” You told him, remembering back to your high school years. “I don’t know if it was just the type of people that lived in the town, or if it was a teenage boy thing, but they just cared about getting laid and nothing more. It was unbearable, and I fell for it a few times, but nobody ever cared about me past the surface. I’ve never met a boy who wanted to know me like you do, or would even admit that they liked me out loud, for that matter. Nobody has ever asked me questions about myself, or my art. It was nice being seen as a person rather than a body.” You muttered the last part, hating saying it aloud.

“They have no idea what they missed out on, then.” He said, bringing you closer and placing a kiss on your forehead. “I’ve only known you, well, really known you, for a day. I already know that I’d be more than lucky to have a chance with you.” Your cheeks turned red, luckily covered by the darkness of the room this time. “They didn’t deserve you. Nobody should make you feel like you can only be loved in privacy. You’re worth more than that.” Your eyes fluttered up to meet his as your brain wondered if the interaction was real, or a grandly fabricated dream. You leaned forward, unable to satiate the need to kiss him again.

He accepted the gesture enthusiastically, using his hands to pull you impossibly closer. You brought your hand to his face, cupping his cheek. After a moment, you couldn’t help but want more. You shifted, trying your best not to break the kiss, placing both of your legs on either side of him. He broke away for a second, just long enough to prop himself up against the wall so you wouldn’t be uncomfortable. He wasted no time, capturing you in another kiss. His hands found your hips, fingers holding you firmly but delicately all at once. You snaked your hand to the back of his neck, holding him like you were scared he would get away from you. When you pulled back, you were both breathless with stars dancing in your eyes.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” He said quickly, mind still occupied with the thought of kissing you. “I’m okay if we just lay here and talk.”

“I want to if you do.” You assured him, finally feeling the months of tension reach the breaking point.

“Are you sure?” He asked, searching your face for an honest answer.

“Positive.” You promised, making sure he saw you were being genuine. “I just… I’ve never…yeah.” You trailed off, suddenly a bit embarrassed. He watched you, trying to piece together what you were saying. “I’ve never had sex.” You blurted out, realizing he wasn’t fully understanding you. “I mean, I’ve done some stuff, but never…” you breathed, your face burning for a whole new reason.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He reached his hand to your face, keeping your head straight so you would look at him. You were a virgin in all technical terms, only having awkward sexual experiences and moments with failed flings in high school. It wasn’t a virtue thing, more of a feeling of never finding the right person. With him, you felt comfortable, and were certain that it would be enjoyable. You didn’t have to have experience to assume that. You could tell just by looking at him, by how he spoke to you. He cared about your comfortability, and that was a major green flag. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” His tone was firm.

“No, I want to.” You said quickly, making sure he knew. “I just… I want you to have a good time, and I’m just nervous, I think. I don’t want to… disappoint.” He let out a chuckle, shaking his head at the blasphemous idea.

“Yeah, that’s not even a possibility.” He shut the fear down almost as soon as it sprouted. “I’m gonna have a good time because I’m with you.” He promised. “I don’t expect anything, or anything like that. I’m more concerned with you having a good time.” He said, bringing your face down to place a soft kiss on your lips. “We’ll take it slow, okay? Make sure you enjoy yourself.” He mumbled, his mouth only millimetres away from your own. “That sound okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, giving a small nod. You could feel his smile from as he kissed you again.

“You can tell me to stop, or slow down, or whatever you need at any point, okay?” He explained when he pulled back. You nodded. “You can tell me what you like, too. Don’t be shy.” You nodded again. “I need to hear the words, baby.”

“Okay.” You verbally confirmed. He tapped your thigh, silently letting you know he wanted you to get up. You did so, allowing him to move over to the side.

“Lay down for me,” he said, his tone had authority but it was incredibly soft, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable. You laid back, eyes locked on his face. You were still anxious, but he was easing it more by the second. He turned onto his side to face you, guiding your face to his once more and connecting your mouths. You kissed him back with more neediness than before, excited by the idea of his hands on you. He slipped his fingers under the hem of your shirt, letting them dance over your skin so you could grow accustom to the feeling.

As he became familiar with the feeling of your body, he took his chance to deepen the kiss. You couldn’t help but let a few small moans of delight out, only fuelling him further. He went slow, working you up to speed. He didn’t want to rush you, or push you too far. He let you take the lead with progressing any further, waiting until you made a move to take an article of clothing away. When you tugged at the hem of his shirt, he moved back from you so he could pull it over his head. You let your eyes fall over his exposed torso, feeling your stomach flutter at the sight. He smiled at your expression, but didn’t say a word in fear of you feeling embarrassed. He made a move towards your waistband, watching your eyes intently as he did so. You gave him a nod of encouragement, letting him know you were okay. He hooked his fingers through the sides and slowly pulled the shorts from your body. You sat up and removed your shirt, too.

His breath caught in his throat at the sight of you in just your undergarments, having to do for a moment just to appreciate the view. “Gorgeous,” he hummed, lowering his head to you once more. He left a trail of gentle kisses across you collarbones, letting his hands trail over your exposed thighs. The minuscule touches were driving you crazy; you had no idea it could feel so good to be admired by someone. His lips moved downward, skipping over your chest and landing on your sternum. He started to get sloppier the further he progressed downwards. By the time he reached your navel, you were practically a mess. He looked up at you, eyelids heavy, taking in every detail of you. The way your chest rose and fell while you breathed, the way your lips stayed slightly parted, the way your hand felt tangled in his hair. It was driving him crazy.

He moved up again, motioning for you to lift your back from the bed. You did as he wanted, allowing him to snake his arms around you and unclasp your bra. He pulled it from your body, discarding it carelessly on the floor. He sucked a sharp breath through his teeth when he finally saw the full view. He was nestled between your legs, one hand planted beside you on the mattress, holding him up upright. His other hand returned to you, resting on your rib cage as light as a feather. He looked to you for permission before doing anything else. “I’m okay, I promise. I’ll tell you if I’m not.” You appreciated his consideration, but you were beginning to feel a bit desperate for more. He didn’t say anything, just brought his hand to your breast and brushed his thumb lightly over your hardened nipple.

The feeling was new, but very welcomed. The small touch sent a jolt of emotion through you. You watched him intently, anticipating his next movement. He brought his mouth to your nipple and pulled it into his mouth. You let out a shaky exhale at the sensation. He flicked his tongue over it a few times, really becoming familiar with you. When he pulled away, you couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed at the loss of contact. He smiled at your sigh of discontent. “Feel good?” He hummed.

“Yeah,” you breathed. He sat upright on his knees, bringing both of his hands to your hips and hooking his fingers through your underwear. You bit the inside of your lip, enthusiastic but still a bit nervous. You lifted your hips from the bed, allowing him to pull them off with ease. He tossed them to the floor, not caring where they landed. He was only concerned with you, now fully naked and laying beneath him. He caught sight of your face, noticing that your eyes were looking away from him.

“Hey,” he whispered. You finally found the courage to look up at him. “You okay, beautiful?” You were glad he disregarded your earlier statement, finding it much easier to communicate with him if he initiated it.

“Yeah, just nervous. It’s nothing you’re doing.” You promised.

“You want to stop?” You shook your head, unable to think of a worse idea. He didn’t immediately jump back to action at the expression, but spoke again after a few moments. “We’ll go slow, okay? This is for you. I wanna give you a good time.” You felt a smile growing on your lips at his words.

“Okay,” you affirmed. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on your lips. You felt like you could live in that moment forever.

“Don’t have to be shy, or nervous. Promise I’m gonna take care of you.” He said as he pulled away. “Just tell me to stop, or slow down if you need to. You’re in charge.” You managed another nod as he sunk back between your legs. He laid on his stomach, head inches from your heat. You felt the anxiety lingering, but it was rapidly overtaken by excitement. He placed a few kisses on the inside of your thighs, one arm snaked under one of your legs and gently caressing the outside of your thigh. He brought his free hand to your cunt, fingers ghosting over the area. He looked up to you as if to ask permission. You gave him another nod, assuring him it was okay.

He slowly advanced, wanting to give you ample time to change your mind if you needed to. When you stayed quiet, eyes watching him with anticipation, he took it as a good sign. He ran his fingers through your folds, letting you get used to the feeling before doing anything else. You bit into the inside of your lip, trying to wrap your head around the unfamiliar sensation. It was definitely different when someone else was touching you, you noted. He gathered some of your arousal on his fingers. He spread the wetness to your clit, bringing his thumb to the sensitive area and slowly rubbing light circles into it. Your breath caught in your throat, the feeling taking you by surprise. His eyes flickered to your face, feeling a bit of satisfaction at the sound. You looked down at him, meeting his gaze and feeling a different type of pleasure at the sight.

“How’s that?” His voice was quiet, barely noticeable if not for your intent focus on his every action. “Does that feel okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, less enthralled in the movement of his hands than you were at the look on his face. He had a small smile playing on his lips, but the admiration for you he held in his eyes was worth more than words. He didn’t speak again, but kept his focus on the pattern of his thumb. He applied a bit more pressure, watching your face for a reaction. You let in a sharp intake of breath, feeling the sensation change from unfamiliar to pleasurable. His jaw clenched slightly, the sound running straight through him and settling in his bones. It was small, barely there, but it was blissful to his ears.

He worked at you for a few moments, gentle and loving with every move. It felt good, the nervousness almost completely gone, but there was enough there for you to hold yourself back. Your noises were limited, mostly from fear of embarrassment. You were so caught up in the worry of looking dumb that you were almost overlooking the scene before you. It didn’t deter him, though. If anything, it only drove him further. He was aching too hear the beautiful sounds begging to be let out, and he’d be damned if he couldn’t get them out of you. You watched him closely, not wanting to miss a moment of his presence. He leaned forward, letting a line of spit fall from his lips onto his fingers. You swallowed hard, the small action sending a rush of pleasure through you.

He ran his fingers through your cunt again, making sure the lubrication didn’t go to waste. His middle finger slowed and eventually stopped just before your entrance. “Tell me if you’re uncomfortable, okay?” He asked, but his tone was more of a demand. You nodded, too caught up in the idea of his fingers almost inside of you to worry about anything else. After a second, he slowly sunk his finger into you, studying you for any sign of discomfort. When you went without protest, he fully pushed his finger in, letting his thumb fall back on your clit. He continued his circles, now adding the stimulation of pumping his finger into you. You let a breathy moan out, unable to hold it back anymore. “That’s it baby,” he practically groaned, ecstatic to hear the noise. “You’re doing s’good.” The praise, although unexpected, was very well received. Knowing that he was enjoying himself solely by pleasuring you was a fantastic feeling. Knowing that he was only concerned with you feeling good was enough to satiate the anxiety.

He continued his pace for a while, eventually adding another finger when you felt you were ready. You were a mess, caught up in the pleasure but worried, too, because you hadn’t felt the creep of an impending orgasm. His hand was steady, never wavering, and his eyes were locked on you. Every so often, he pressed his lips into the skin on your thighs or your hipbones, just as a small act of affection. “Sam, I-I don’t know if I’m gonna cum.” You admitted, voice shaky and a bit defeated.

“You will,” he promised, unfazed by the statement. “Don’t be nervous.”

“I just…” you let out a sigh, frustrated with yourself. “It’s not you, it’s me.” He pulled back, halting his movements.

“I can stop if that’s what you want, baby.” His words were coated with sincerity. “Or are you just worried you can’t cum?” He inquired.

“I don’t want you to stop, I’m having a good time. I just don’t know if I can.” You explained, feeling embarrassment settle in your chest.

“I’ve got all night.” He said, shrugging off the worry. “Can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing.” He gave you a smile.

“I want you to have a good time, too, though.”

“Oh, I am.” His tone changed from gentle to firm. “Don’t worry about that.” You watched him with uncertainty, but the look in his eye was nothing but affirmative of his statement. “Don’t worry about anything. Just lay there and focus on how it feels, okay?” You nodded. “No worries about if you’re gonna cum or not, no worrying about me having a good time, just relax and enjoy the feeling. If you don’t cum, we’ll try again next time.” Your heard sped at the realization that he was planning on this being more than a one-time thing. It was comforting, knowing that he was learning about you so intimately, but wasn’t planning on running. He didn’t want to get your clothes off and never speak to you again like the majority of boys you’d ever known.

“Y-yeah, okay.” You replied. He cocked his head to the side, wondering why the hesitation was so present. “You, uh… next time?” He couldn’t help but grin at your question.

“I mean, yeah, if you want that, of course.”

“Yeah, I do.” You rushed out, hoping you hadn’t made him feel otherwise.

“Then it’s settled.” He hummed. “Not just the sex part, though. The dinner and the hanging out was great, and I’d very much like to do that, too.” You let out a small giggle at his words, finding the explanation cute.

“Me, too.” You assured him.

“Breakfast tomorrow?” He asked, a smirk on the corner of his lips. He started to move his fingers again, taking you by surprise. You let out a gasp at the suddenness, immediately feeling the pleasure return.

“S-sure,” you breathed, giving him a nod. He decided to stop messing with you, wanting to ensure you were as comfortable as you could be. He worked himself back up to his earlier pace, making it nearly impossible for you to think of anything else. He let another trail of spit fall onto his fingers, making sure it wasn’t too dry for you.

After a few moments, you did start to feel a little less insecure. His eyes were watching you, studying every minute detail. He noticed the rise and fall of your chest speed as he continued pumping his fingers in and out of you, the way you occasionally pulled your bottom lip between your teeth in attempt to silence yourself. He watched how your eyebrows furrowed slightly when he brushed over your clit just right, and how your eyes stayed almost permanently shut. He thought you were the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. Eventually, a blissful moan slipped from your mouth as his fingers hit the perfect spot. His eyes rolled back slightly, soaking up the sound. “That’s it, baby.” He encouraged you, fingers never stopping.

The words of motivation helped ease your tension. Your stiffness dissipated, your shoulders relaxing back on the pillows a bit. Your neck let your head fall back, leaving you completely at ease for the time being. A few more short-lived moans fell from your lips, all hitting him with a stronger force each time. “Doing so good, princess.” He said, noticing the effect his words had on you last time. “Cum for me, baby. You can do it.” He whispered. The demand went straight to your core, and you started to feel a sensation grow in the pit of your stomach. It was a feeling you’d only ever given yourself; it was way more intense when produced by another person.

“Fuck, Sam.” You whimpered, a gentle warning that you were getting closer. His heart drummed against his chest, clearly excited at the obscene proclamation. He took a risk, removing his thumb from your clit and lowering his head until his lips were touching you. You didn’t realize what he was doing until his tongue darted over the sensitive nerves, causing an involuntarily buck of your hips. He used his hand that was hooked under your leg to hold you down on the mattress.

Your fear of not being able to cum was quickly diminished with the new, even more unfamiliar feeling. It was heavenly. You let a low groan out, feeling the knot in your belly tighten. You slipped your hand down and tangling your fingers in the roots of his hair. He pulled his mouth off you only for a second, just to get one more praise in. “Taste so good, princess.” He said, slipping his thumb back in place of his mouth. You could only whimper in response, already missing the feeling of his tongue. “That’s it, baby. Look at you,” he whispered the last part more to himself than anything else. He only let his eyes hover over your expression for a moment longer, returning his tongue to you.

It didn’t take long to get to where he wanted you to be. Within a few minutes, you were gripping at his hair, panting and moaning, your orgasm begging you to let go. His tongue was moving at a steady pace, and his fingers curled with every re-entry, hitting a spot inside you that nothing ever had before. You let your head fall back, feeling the pressure reach its peak. A wave of pleasure overtook you, setting every nerve in your body on fire. You managed his name through the slur of moans, clenching around his fingers as you came. He only tapered his speed when the intensity began to die down. He removed his mouth first, then slowly pulled his fingers from you. His eyes flickered towards your face, lust clouding his eyes as he did so.

He slowly moved upwards, placing a few kisses over your collarbones and up onto your neck. You finally found the strength to open your eyes and look to him. He caught your gaze and gave you a dopey smile, eyelids heavy and your arousal glistening on his lips. “That’s my beautiful girl,” he hummed, wiping his chin with the back of his hand before leaning in for a kiss. “I’m so proud of you.” He whispered as he parted from you. He placed another kiss on your lips, sweet and full of emotion. The anxiety that had been plaguing you on and off was now gone, replaced solely by a desire for him that you’d never felt for another person before. “Did that feel good?”

“So good, Sammy.” You said, your lips still ghosting over his. You could feel his erection straining against his sweatpants, pressing into your leg.

“My name sounds so good when you say it like that.” He sighed, one hand roaming your exposed torso. His touch was light, tickling the sensitive skin over your rib cage as he did so.

“Thank you,” you whispered, resting your cheek against his, basking in the affection.

“Don’t have to thank me, princess.” He replied. “If anything, I should be thanking you.” You let out a small laugh at his words, finding his gratefulness charming. You reached up and cupped his cheek in your hand, lifting your head to pull him into another kiss. He was hesitant to let you go when you pulled away.

“Do you wanna…?” You trailed off, feeling a bit too embarrassed to finish the sentence.

“Do you?” He asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed, never more sure of yourself in your whole life. He gave you a smile, making a move to stand. He undid the drawstring on his pants, then pulled them down, ridding himself of them and leaving himself clad in only his boxers. You couldn’t help but stare at him, eyes wandering but eventually settling on the bulge barely contained by the fabric. He noticed your stare, a smirk making its way back onto his lips.

“Condoms?” He asked, catching your attention. Your eyes widened, realizing that you didn’t have any.

“Oh, I uh- I didn’t really expect… I don’t..”

“That’s okay,” he chuckled. “I have some in my room. I can go get them.” You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy, realizing that he’d been keeping them for a reason. You pushed the thought away, not wanting to focus on the idea of him being with someone else. He was here with you, and that’s what mattered.

“I, uh, I am on birth control, if you’re clean.” You squeaked, slightly embarrassed at the statement.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” He said, his tone firm.

“Yeah, I am.” You assured him. “Like I said, as long as you’re clean.” You repeated the earlier comment, just wanting to be sure.

“I am,” he promised. “It’s been a long time since… yeah.” He let out a small laugh. You couldn’t help but feel better knowing he hadn’t been sleeping around, either.

“Then yeah, I’m okay with it.” He gave a nod, making a move to take off his boxers. You watched in admiration, excited to finally see him the same as he was seeing you. He kicked the fabric with the rest of the growing pile of clothes. He stepped back towards the bed, noticing your eyes never leaving him. “You’re… very pretty.” You whispered, unable to find any better words to describe him.

“I think you’re very pretty, too.” He smiled, nestling back between your legs as he grabbed a pillow from beside you. “Lift your hips up, princess.” You did as he said and he slipped the cushion underneath you. “Should make it a bit more comfortable.”

He guided your legs up slightly, not enough to bend you in an awkward position, but enough to make it easier for both of you. “Will it hurt?” You finally blurted out, the question begging to be spoken all night.

“May be a bit uncomfortable at first, but I’m gonna try my best to make sure it doesn’t.” He said, catching your gaze. “We can take it as slow as you want. If you want me to stop, just tell me.”

“Okay.” You replied, voice quiet. You were nervous, but very aware that you were in good hands. It was his only intention to make sure you enjoyed yourself. You watched as he spit on his hand, rubbing himself for a moment.

“You okay?” He asked, wanting to be sure.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t be scared to talk to me, baby.” He reminded. You nodded, eyes only focused on his hand that was he was stroking himself with. He moved a bit closer, letting the tip of his dick rest against your entrance. He let you get used to the feeling before going any further. “You tell me when you’re ready.”

“I am.” You weren’t lying; the anxiety and nervousness was fully expected, but you were more than ready to have sex with him. You were sure of that before you’d even spoken with him, and it was only solidified further when you saw how accommodating he was being with you. He waited for any hesitation, but when none was given, he slowly pushed his hips forward.

You closed your eyes, trying your best to stay relaxed. He only pushed in a few inches, wanting you to adjust before continuing. “That okay?” He asked. You nodded, reaching out for his hand. He took his own from your leg and accepted the offer, intertwining his fingers with yours. He thrusted forward a bit more, studying your expression for a hint of discomfort. When he bottomed out, you let out a small sigh of relief.

“Not as bad as I thought it would be.” You noted. He laughed quietly, happy you thought so.

“You’re doing so good.” He whispered. “You feel so good.” His words sent a jolt of arousal through you, enjoying the praise more than you imagined you would. He slowly built up a pace, moving his hips with caution. Once you’d fully realized the sensation was less than uncomfortable, you relaxed against him. After a few more moments, you began to enjoy the feeling.

“You can go faster,” you sighed, a ghost of a moan in your words. He was hesitant to do so, but he gradually sped his thrusts, admiring your expression. When he clued in to the fact you were enjoying yourself, he couldn’t help but let a groan escape his lips. Your eyes snapped to his face, thinking that was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard. His pleasure ridden expression was enough to induce an orgasm on its own, you deducted.

He reached his hand between your legs, letting his thumb find your clit again. He continued his pace, now applying light pressure onto the sensitive bundle of nerves as he circled his thumb. The combined sensations caused a moan from you. Your fingers tightened against his hand, a silent expression of pleasure. “Fuck, Sam.” You sighed, letting your head fall back onto the pillows.

“Look so pretty like this, baby.” He mumbled, trying to keep the speed of his hips and his hand the same. The pet names were unexpected, but you loved hearing them come from his mouth, especially when they sounded like that. “Wish I could have you like this forever.” He sighed, losing himself to the feeling a bit. It didn’t take long for another knot to form in your belly. With the consistency of his movements, it was much easier to get there than it was the first time. Sam noticed the slight change in your demeanour, the increase in the noises you were making. He focused on your face, wanting to watch you this time, feeling a bit cheated out of the moment the first time. “You think you can cum again, princess?” He asked, eyes burning into you.

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, looking up at him. “Feels so good, Sammy.”

“Come on, baby.” He sounded as if he were begging you. “Doing so good for me.” With his encouragement, you felt your orgasm creep up again. You tried your best to keep your eyes on him, wanting to appreciate him as much as possible. He sped his thumb slightly, causing your breath to catch in your throat. His gaze never wavered, an unspoken plea for you to let go. It only took a moment before you came the second time. Your head fell back again, eyes screwed shut and mouth permanently agape. His jaw was clenched, holding himself back from his own release at the sound of you crying his name. “That’s it,” he moaned, wishing he could engrave the picture in his mind forever. As much as he wanted to cum, too, he was hoping to get one more out of you before the night came to an end.

The pressure from his thumb lightened, but his thrusts sped. You didn’t have time to recover, unlike the first time. The sensitivity was overtaken by the pleasure of him inside you, making it the only thing you could focus on. You looked back at him, realizing your mistake as soon as you did. He was still staring at you, eyes now a bit feral. The muscles in his jaw were taut, and he was quite unfamiliar to you, now. Although different, not in a bad way. It was intense, but far from menacing. You were captivated in the details of his stare, finding yourself unable to look away. He was breathtaking, and you couldn’t believe you were lucky enough to have him in such a way. You couldn’t believe that you had the power to drive him to such a feeling.

“You can give me one more, baby, I know you can.” His motivation was clouded with a bit of dominance, giving you the impression that he wouldn’t be pleased with himself if he couldn’t give you another orgasm.

“I don’t know, Sammy.” You groaned, unsure of yourself but still fully immersed in the feeling of him inside you.

“You can, princess. You can do it.” His chest was heaving with every breath, partially due to his movement, but more to do with desire. There was a glisten of sweat on his forehead, illuminated by the dim light flooding through the window. You didn’t think you’d be able to cum for the first time, let alone a second, or a third. The only anxiety you had left in your body was one fearing you’d leave him disappointed. Rationally, you knew he’d be content with whatever happened, but the louder part of your brain craved to give him exactly what he wanted. It wasn’t out of fear, but solely because you wanted to. From the minute he’d given you that first stupid smile all those months ago, you knew you wanted to be exactly where you were at that moment, and you’d be damned if you didn’t give it your all.

His patience and gentleness with you the whole night was endearing, but for you, the novelty of it being your first time had worn off, and the months of sexual tension was reaching its peak. You were both completely starved for each other in the best way possible, neither of you wanting to disappoint. Sam kept his pace steady, his thumb pressing into your clit again. To both of you, the idea of another orgasm not being reached was out of the question. “I can, but you have to cum with me.” You begged.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he grunted, letting out a long exhale. He knew that wouldn’t be an issue, he’d been holding himself back from the minute you’d started fucking. He rationed with himself as another string of moans left your lips, forcing himself to believe that waiting would be far more satisfactory than finishing before you. “Cum for me, angel.” The new term of endearment was unlike the others; this one hit you violently, such a graceful term for such a filthy display. You let out a cry of pleasure, your third climax hitting you without warning. It washed over you with necessity, as if you needed it to survive. He finally let go of your hand, fingers finding your hips to hold you on him as he came, too.

The room echoed with sounds of pleasure and obscene words, the essence of the moment settling into the walls and solidifying its place. The memory would never leave, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. He let out a sigh, finally losing his composure and resting gently atop of you. He placed tender kisses along your collarbones, small gestures of affection and appreciation to let you know he still meant everything he said to you. After you both came back to reality, he slowly withdrew from you. He tried to keep the mess minimal as he did so, wanting to keep the cleanup simple so he had more time to hold you before the night was through. “You should go pee, don’t want you to get a UTI.” He mumbled. You managed a nod, sleep calling to you like never before. Your mind and body were beyond exhausted, unable to keep up with the whirlwind of events.

He helped you up and to the bathroom, leaving you to your business. You cleaned yourself up and removed what was left of your makeup before returning to him. He gave you a dopey smile and a kiss on the head before going to do the same. You took a seat on the bed, mind still buzzing with excitement at the thought of what happened. When he came back out, he pulled his boxers back on and picked up his t-shirt from the ground. He handed it to you, almost nervous of rejection. You took the piece of clothing and slipped it over your head, more than happy to be wearing his clothes. “Did… did you maybe want to stay with me tonight?” You asked, nervous he’d say no. He took a seat beside you, pulling you into his arms and laying you both down on the mattress.

“Was hoping you’d ask.” He mumbled, pulling your back to his chest. He nuzzled his head into your neck, not caring about the tickle of your hair on his face.

“Thank you,” you finally said after a few long moments of silence.

“What are you thanking me for?”

“I don’t know,” you laughed. “That was… fantastic. You were fantastic.”

“I’m just happy you had a good time. That’s all I wanted.” He hummed, hand snaking under your shirt to rest on your stomach.

“I really did. I.. uh, wanted to do that for a while.” You said, rolling your eyes at your own awkwardness.

“Oh, yeah, me too.” He said, as if it were obvious. “All year I felt like I was in middle school again, crushing on the prettiest girl who didn’t know I existed.”

“I knew you existed.” You whispered, calmed at the knowledge you’d both been feeling the same way. “I thought the same about you.”

“Seems like we were both a bit dumb, then, Picasso.” You could hear his smile in his words.

“Guess so, piano man.” You both fell into a silence again, but like all the other ones, it was nothing short of comfortable. You felt yourself melt into his touch, sleep begging you to close your eyes.

“You’re okay, though? You’re not sore, or anything? You’d tell me if you were, right?”

“Yeah, I am, Sammy. Promise.” You reassured him. He’d done an excellent job at taking care of you and ensuring you were comfortable. It was the best possible scenario you could have imagined for your first time.

“That’s good, I just want to make sure.” He whispered. You settled into the mattress, prepared to go to bed. “So, if we’re talking experience wise, like a three star review?” He broke the quiet once more, causing both of you to fall into a fit of laughter.

“Mmm, I was thinking more of a five star, actually.” You pretended to ponder.

“Don’t stroke my ego, Picasso.” He dismissed the compliment.

“Maybe we’ll have to try it again sometime, then I can give a proper review.” You moved your hand under your shirt, too, resting it on top of his. He laced your fingers together, more than accepting of the contact.

“I think that would be quite alright.” He placed a kiss to your neck, just below your ear. It sent a shiver down your spine. “So it was good enough to make you want to do it again,” he noted. “I’ll have to put that one on my resume.” You laughed, shaking your head at his antics.

“Goodnight, piano man.” You said, finality in your voice. He propped himself up, trying his best to lean over you for another kiss. You turned your head back to meet his lips, much more confident in the action, now.

“Goodnight, Picasso.” He settled back in behind you, closing his eyes, too. “I can’t wait to take you to breakfast in the morning.” No more words were exchanged, but you both fell into a slumber with a permanent smile stuck on your lips.

#greta van fleet #danny gvf #sam gvf #gvf #danny wagner #jake gvf #jake kiszka #josh gvf #sam kiszka #gvf fic #josh kiszka #greta van fleet smut #greta van fleet fluff #greta van fleet imagine #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fanfic #sam kiszka smut #sam kiszka fic #gvf imagine #gvf smut #gvf x reader #sammy gvf #gvf fanfiction #sam kiszka x reader #fic #my fic #my writing #builtbybrokenbells #builtbybrokenbells fic

[northrnfool]

Lokius Meta (aka I had a lot of thoughts while grocery shopping today):

The more I sit with the series as a whole the more I’m actually okay with Lokius not being canon (yet).

Tom Hiddleston actually summed it up perfectly when he was asked if Loki would have a love interest; he said that the first healthy relationship you have to have is with yourself. This show captured that arc to perfection. When we first see Loki, he’s at his worst, most villainous: He’s angry isolated, and hella narcissistic. This show is so brilliant that they gave a reminder of Loki’s unhealthy relationship with himself in the first episode when we see the clip of Frigga telling him “you’re so perceptive… about everyone but yourself”. He doesn’t see himself for who he really is. And suddenly he’s confronted by this man who has studied him and understands him without judgement. Mobius cracked open that barrier a little bit, but it was going to take time to really break down those walls. The first season was meant to be a bit of a struggle when it comes to his relationship with himself; his introduction and journey with Sylvie is suppose to be ick in the beginning; His attraction for her stems from his narcissism and by the end of the season, they went from thinking they can ONLY trust eachother to the ultimately betraying and hurting one another. That was always going to be inevitable because the relationship was, at it’s core, unhealthy.

So now we get to season 2 and there is a very obvious shift. He still has a lingering need to reach Sylvie (which makes sense, he’s beginning to realize his sense of self, and he needs to continue to understand it, to connect with it), but there is also a relationship with Mobius that’s really starting to grow. Their companionship, their trust in one another, their support for eachother, the way they balance and regulate the other so easily and naturally is really highlighted in season 2. They are unquestionably soulmates… they just haven’t realized it yet. A big part of that is because Loki still has to focus on his relationship with himself. He’s still in conflict with himself, as we see in his conflict with Sylvie. And it builds all the way up to Kang’s insistence that the only way to prevent the war is to kill Sylvie. He knows that means killing a part of himself and undoing all the work he put into repairing himself. He would’ve been irreparably fucked up if he went through with it and she knew that - she even said she wouldn’t give him her blessing to go through with it so the only other option was to find another way, to go down fighting. He was going to be fighting as much for himself as he was fighting for the survival timeline.

So that bring us to his sacrifice. I said in a previous post that even though Loki is alone physically in the end, he’s not alone in his heart. He’s now fully opened himself to others, let them in, and is acting out of love instead of out of a sense of self preservation. He’s healed his relationship with himself and we are shown that in Sylvie’s last scene, we see a huge change in her, from being angry and tense to being at peace and happy. Her whole body in that scene is more relaxed with the soft morning sun shining on her face. It was quite beautiful. In that image we are shown that Loki’s relationship with himself is now healed. But what we’re also shown is Mobius.

I LOVE that they had Mobius and Sylvie in that scene together because it shows the stark contrast of where each of them are emotionally. She’s at peace, ready to move on, and he’s stuck waiting, alone and forlorn. This scene is a passing or the torch, so to speak. Now that Loki’s relationship with himself is in a good place the story is now going to move on to him and Mobius being able to fall in love (I mean, we know they already did, but they have to figure that out, themselves). I would’ve been concerned if we got and ending with Mobius back at the TVA with his friends, but instead we got a very clear message that their story is incomplete, that it’s really just beginning.

And I can’t fucking wait for this incredible love story to play out. I’m so so glad that we have Tom Hiddleston taking so much ownership of Loki’s story. It honestly feels like he’s not going to let anyone else mess up Loki’s character, like everything has to pass by him to get approval - which is why his arc in this show was so brilliant, so beautiful, and so perfectly executed.

So my hat goes off to Tom and Michael Waldron and all the writers. I’m beyond grateful to be a Loki fan and get this much care out into his character development.

#lokius #loki #loki x mobius #mobius #loki season 2 #loki spoilers #meta #loki meta

[gabessquishytum]

Hob doesn't do relationships. He doesn't hate love or anything, they're just not for him. He likes to sleep around and hook up with different people and any kind of relationship he maintains is strictly casual. And it was fine when he was 20, but now Hob's almost 30 and Joanna feels like Hob needs to grow up a bit. He doesn't need to settle down or make huge commitment, but it wouldn't hurt to give dating a try and maybe grow a little as a person.

So she gives him a talking to, and while he's resistant at first, he takes some time to really look at his life and he realizes that yeah, maybe she has a point. And she tries to tell him it doesn't need to be a complete lifestyle change, just a few more dates, a few less hook ups, but Hob doesn't do anything halfway. He declares that he will the next person he is attracted to and absolutely not have sex with until a few dates in when he's sure he likes them.

Dream, on the other hand, has a problem. He's approaching 30 and already has two divorces under his belt. He commits too much too fast and he's really bad at taking things slow in a relationship. So he asks Death for some advice and she suggests that maybe he should try some hook ups, to be with somebody where there aren't any expectations for the future. Yes, this is a good idea, Dream thinks. He's going to go out and find somebody to sleep with and will absolutely not let himself develop any feelings.

Dream and Hob end up in the same bar and Hob starts chatting him up. Dream is excited because this handsome man seems like the perfect place to start. They're really hitting it off, except this man seems like he wants...a date? Which is incredibly tempting, but Dream has promised himself that that's not what he wants. It's fine, he's sure he can convince this man to go home with him.

Hob has found the perfect candidate for a date. He's beautiful and they're getting along very well, but then the man makes it clear he wants to take Hob home for sex. Which, while very tempting, is not what Hob is after, but this man is way too good to give up on just yet. It's fine, he'll just have to try harder to convince this man to go on a date.

So they're stuck there, basically playing a game of chicken to see who will give up first. The chemistry between them is palpable, and neither is willing to totally give up and find someone else. Hob loses first. Dream plays dirty and starts whispering all kinds of things in his ear and Hob folds like a wet paper towel (Hob is a weak man, okay? he knows). But Dreams loses later when he invites Hob to stay and can't help making breakfast for him in the morning and says yes to a date before Hob even finishes asking again.

AJAJSJDHSH they're so fucking stupid aren't they? Unstoppable dumbass x immovable idiot.

I really enjoy the fact that they both ultimately completely fail in their objectives. Hob is such a sweet slut he can't not go home with Dream and suck his pretty pink cock. And Dream is such a hopeless romantic, he can't not develop feelings on that very first morning as Hob sings along with the radio and licks syrup off his fingers.

Hob suggests a compromise: they will inevitably date and fall in love and probably get married (Hob has decided this already, like we've already said, he doesn't do things by halves). BUT they can also play a little game. Every other week or so, they'll go out, and seduce each other all over again. Pretending to be complete strangers, coming up with new backstories each time. Thus, Dream will get to 'explore' new people and let go of all the inhibitions one tends to develop in a relationship.

Dream rolls his eyes fondly, because its sort of a terrible idea, but he loves that Hob is trying to arrange compromises for their relationship already. It's a good sign for the future, he thinks, and hey. Maybe they'll give the game a go sometime. It won't be so bad to let Hob seduce him, next time...

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft

[sokkigarden]

If you’re willing to humbly accept my Jamie tartt request where the team has a board game/charades night and they set up the reader and Jamie to be partners cause they’re all sick of their flirting/pining and they obviously crush everyone cause they’re the perfect team?

this is a little bullet-point drabble bc that’s how these things usually start for me and i’d rather give y’all smth small instead of nothing! that being said this got out of hand. lmfao i hope you like this !!

it all started when phoebe came around after training one day and was so obsessed with a new game that she made the richmond boys play with her

and this quickly escalated into game nights for the whole football club

everyone brought board games, card games and booze

family members came along, the whole facility got involved

it got really competitive naturally

you usually paired off with keeley while playing bc you both worked on social media and were becoming good friends outside of work too

but this meant you often ended up playing against roy and jamie

because there was some weird dynamic between the three of them

and somehow you got looped into it too

and eventually every time you played, you would start arguing with jamie

it was never anything serious, but it did get out of hand sometimes

it wasn’t your fault! you were super competitive, and he wanted to be the best at everything 

it didn’t matter if you played monopoly or scrabble, you always ended up nearly yelling at each other

it was all in good fun, but truth be told, you really didn’t know jamie that well outside of these game nights

you crossed paths with him just about as much as the other players, getting some content for socials and discussing PR promo with them

you wouldn’t deny that you found him attractive, but you wouldn’t openly admit it either

so it was fun to mess around and mildly flirt with him with the pretense of getting competitive over board games

finally one week, you noticed keeley and roy showed up together

they were clearly interested in staying close to each other all night, which left you and jamie the odd ducks out

at first you felt betrayed. what happened to you and keeley being the dream team?

but you’d seen how they had been glancing at each other these past few weeks

you should’ve known this was inevitable

but everyone saw the way you and jamie interacted as well

so when roy and keeley showed up together, they suggested you and jamie pair up to play poker

you’d been wanting to learn how to play for weeks and colin brought fancy new poker chips

jamie was pretty okay at poker, so roy and keeley subtly suggested you two pair up to learn and play

“maybe you’ll work better together rather than against each other” they said

they were definitely conspiring to see if something would happen between you two

you both reluctantly agree

but you can’t tell if jamie is grumbling more about being your partner or because roy and keeley are back together

you ended up playing poker against bumbercatch, colin, and isaac, with jamie helping you learn the ins and outs before heading off to find drinks

he definitely got distracted on the way, chatting to others throughout the room 

once he returned with drinks for you all, he saw how badly you were losing

so he pulled up a chair next to you, and started helping you

nudging you when he noticed what the others were doing

whispering in your ear what card to play

at one point, jamie places his hand on your thigh under the table to get your attention

suggesting how to play your cards right to beat the other boys

but you can hardly focus bc his hand is big and it’s warm and still resting on your leg

and even when you end up winning the round, he leaves his hand there, squeezing your thigh for encouragement 

its not long before the boys are groaning over losing their money to you

while jamie is still helping out a lil bit, you’ve definitely improved on your own

by the end of the night you’re feeling triumphant when keeley and roy make their way over to you

and jamie’s got a proud look on his face

jamie’s a pretty touchy person, so he slings an arm around your shoulder as you all walk to a bar together

roy and keeley share a look as you guys chatter together instead of arguing over silly games

clearly they were right

as you and jamie flirt and get to know each other for the rest of the night

the arguing was definitely a pretense to something more

and you have a feeling it will be fun to find what comes next

it all started when phoebe came around after training one day and was so obsessed with a new game that she made the richmond boys play with her

and this quickly escalated into game nights for the whole football club

everyone brought board games, card games and booze

family members came along, the whole facility got involved

it got really competitive naturally

you usually paired off with keeley while playing bc you both worked on social media and were becoming good friends outside of work too

but this meant you often ended up playing against roy and jamie

because there was some weird dynamic between the three of them

and somehow you got looped into it too

and eventually every time you played, you would start arguing with jamie

it was never anything serious, but it did get out of hand sometimes

it wasn’t your fault! you were super competitive, and he wanted to be the best at everything 

it didn’t matter if you played monopoly or scrabble, you always ended up nearly yelling at each other

it was all in good fun, but truth be told, you really didn’t know jamie that well outside of these game nights

you crossed paths with him just about as much as the other players, getting some content for socials and discussing PR promo with them

you wouldn’t deny that you found him attractive, but you wouldn’t openly admit it either

so it was fun to mess around and mildly flirt with him with the pretense of getting competitive over board games

finally one week, you noticed keeley and roy showed up together

they were clearly interested in staying close to each other all night, which left you and jamie the odd ducks out

at first you felt betrayed. what happened to you and keeley being the dream team?

but you’d seen how they had been glancing at each other these past few weeks

you should’ve known this was inevitable

but everyone saw the way you and jamie interacted as well

so when roy and keeley showed up together, they suggested you and jamie pair up to play poker

you’d been wanting to learn how to play for weeks and colin brought fancy new poker chips

jamie was pretty okay at poker, so roy and keeley subtly suggested you two pair up to learn and play

“maybe you’ll work better together rather than against each other” they said

they were definitely conspiring to see if something would happen between you two

you both reluctantly agree

but you can’t tell if jamie is grumbling more about being your partner or because roy and keeley are back together

you ended up playing poker against bumbercatch, colin, and isaac, with jamie helping you learn the ins and outs before heading off to find drinks

he definitely got distracted on the way, chatting to others throughout the room 

once he returned with drinks for you all, he saw how badly you were losing

so he pulled up a chair next to you, and started helping you

nudging you when he noticed what the others were doing

whispering in your ear what card to play

at one point, jamie places his hand on your thigh under the table to get your attention

suggesting how to play your cards right to beat the other boys

but you can hardly focus bc his hand is big and it’s warm and still resting on your leg

and even when you end up winning the round, he leaves his hand there, squeezing your thigh for encouragement 

its not long before the boys are groaning over losing their money to you

while jamie is still helping out a lil bit, you’ve definitely improved on your own

by the end of the night you’re feeling triumphant when keeley and roy make their way over to you

and jamie’s got a proud look on his face

jamie’s a pretty touchy person, so he slings an arm around your shoulder as you all walk to a bar together

roy and keeley share a look as you guys chatter together instead of arguing over silly games

clearly they were right

as you and jamie flirt and get to know each other for the rest of the night

the arguing was definitely a pretense to something more

if you didn't had a crush at the beginning of the night, you definitely do now

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt fanfiction #ted lasso imagine #my works #request #inbox

[xxlemon-chanxx]

Ok, what about if philip/belos has a partner toxic as him but they still love each other?

Now—there are a LOT of relationship dynamics that fall under the general “toxic” umbrella. I'm going to go ahead and explain the one my mind went to first when I initially read this ask, so it might not be the same version of “toxic” that you're thinking of. I'm sorry in advance!

Also, this is going to be more or less the same between Philip and Belos, so I'm not going to do two separate sections, and I'm just going to explain the one that I'd find more interesting narratively.

So—here’s the “toxic” relationship that I first imagined:

⚠️⚠️TW for suicide baiting and general emotionally abusive behaviors!⚠️⚠️

overly dependant, insecure SO who constantly needs reassurance and hangs off of Belos’s every action because they worry he’ll grow bored of them and leave them, and is overall very possessive of him to the point of being incapable of wanting to leave Belos’s side for even a moment + overly-controlling and manipulative Belos who revels in the idea that his love is too desperate to ever want to leave him despite his flaws.

S/O can barely stand it. Their husband constantly talks to countless people every day—its part of his job description as the annihilator of an entire populous! And there are so many talented, intelligent, and attractive witches that make up the castle staff. They can't help but feel that rush of anxiety in their chest when one of said witches needs to talk to their husband—seriously, why not give the news to them? They'd be more than happy to pass along the message to their husband if it was really THAT important.

Even when Belos tells them countless times that he'd never trade them for a witch, no matter how much venom is in his voice as he practically spits the word, there's that lingering doubt. They're so much prettier. Does he think those witches walking the halls are prettier than them? His gauntlet lingered by that coven head’s hand for a few moments too long for their tastes, surely that means he's having an abhorrent love affair with that witch.

Whenever their anxiety flares up like this, it inevitably ends in a freakout and breakdown. They’ll fall to their knees at Belos’s feet, clutching letters that were strictly business but had just enough reverent language from an underling for S/O to misconstrue as romantic or intimate feelings between them.

They’ll scream, they’ll cry, initially demanding to know why he'd trade them for a witch, after all they've given him. What do they have that they don't? What could they possibly offer him? Is it their body? They're prettier than me, is that it? Are they smarter than me? What is it, damn you? What? What? WHAT?

Then, after Belos manages to calm them down, that rage turns to sorrow as they realize that they snooped through their husband's possessions, his private, confidential letters to find evidence that didn't even exist. They’ll apologize incoherently, clutching at his robes, spewing promise after promise that this was going to be the last time, that they were never going to snoop again and please don't leave them because they can't imagine a world where he doesn't want them, and please, if he doesn't want them, they might just die. No, scratch that. They WILL die. They. Will. DIE. If he tosses them out like trash.

And as they fumble out their apologies and half-baked, empty, rehearsed promises, Belos simply wraps them in his arms, tucking their head under his chin as a soft, tired smile graces his lips. He knows this will not be the last time, but he can't bring himself to be too annoyed by it. After all, he does partially enjoy a few of the behaviors his beloved exhibits.

He loves the way they're practically attached to his hip. He loves the way he never has to worry whether or not they're truly loyal to him or if they genuinely love him. That desperation is so thick he could cut it with a knife and spread it on toast. He doesn't need to constantly have his hand in them like a sock puppet because they follow him around like a lovesick puppy, staying quiet and out of the way while he does the important work and then swooping in during down moments to squeeze in some affection and much-needed fishing for reassurance.

He still lies to them, obviously. His dishonesty is probably the biggest trigger for S/O’s insecurity. Nevertheless, S/O would never leave Belos because—well…who else would willingly put up with that level of inconvenience? And Belos would never want them to leave because that's the most loyal and devoted to him someone could possibly be, and they're a human who accepts him despite his issues. Why in the Hells would he ever give that up?

#philip wittebane #toh philip #belosfanstakeover #toh #toh emperor belos #emperor belos #belos wittebane #the owl house belos #toh belos #toh belos x reader #emperor belos x oc #emperor belos x reader #belos x oc #belos x reader

[yoiiwonn]

𝜗𝜚 park sunghoon.

𝜗𝜚 OVERVIEW enemy!sunghoon x gn!reader 𝜗𝜚 GENRE angst, fluff, drabble (a bit of swearing)

𝜗𝜚 MASTERLIST 𝜗𝜚 TAGLIST (open!!) 𝜗𝜚 REQUESTS OPEN

Enemy!sunghoon who always somehow finds a way to get under your skin. It irks you how everytime he says something to you, it makes you go crazy. Only to go home and stay up all night thinking about how he knew all of your secrets.

Enemy!sunghoon who repeatedly stares at you with a cold look on his face. Everytime you confront him he just laughs, and teases you about looking at him, when in reality he’s the one who cast his eyes on you.

Enemy!sunghoon who would do anything to just tease you all day about how much better he is at ice skating than you. Only to cause a fight in where you always end up storming off and not being able to think about anything else because of it.

Enemy!sunghoon who never wants you to talk to any guy other than him. Even though all of the bitter interactions you share together are negative, he doesn’t care. And whenever you do talk to other guys he makes it a point to drive them away from you, doing anything he can to paint you as a bad guy so that he can have you all to himself.

Enemy!sunghoon, who always takes it upon himself to whisper in your ear during practice, usually degrading you, calling you names, or taunting you a bit. It made your blood boil at first, but after some time it became quite attractive, causing your face to appear red everytime he did this “trick” of his, as he called it.

Enemy!sunghoon who blew up, seemingly more than usual when another figure skater suddenly joined your class. Your attention leaving his, and focusing on the “new guy.”

It riled him up, so within the timespan of a month he had the innocent guy kicked out. You had no idea why he got kicked out, but just ignored it. You did find it a bit strange that he hadn’t contacted you after, instead changed his number..? Things had always ended up like this this though, after all. park sunghoon had won too many battles he shouldn’t have been fighting in, he was your enemy… not your boyfriend….

Once he had started going soft around you, it fell odd. As if he had lined up all of this trouble just to taunt you even more. No.. not taunt.. to flirt?

You had finally given up on boys, it’s like you had powered through all of your past situationships with ease.. but you thought you were a decent person, so why?

Park sunghoon is the reason why.

Right towards the end of practice for the finales, you had noticed sunghoon rummaging through your bag. But why? He didn’t notice your sly footsteps approaching behind, and continued to scroll through your phone.

“Sunghoon what the hell.. are you doing..” a voice spoke in a hushed tone behind him, his heart pounding, dropping your phone on the ground and suddenly trying to run off. “GET BACK HERE PARK SUNGHOON!” He couldn’t outrun you forever, so he turned and just decided to face his inevitable fate.

“you fucking creep.. why did you go through my phone.” you speak, hands fidgeting in anxiety, still trying to process the emotions regulating through your head. “I’m not a creep.. well.. um. I just like you okay? A lot.” you shook your head in disbelief.. but you two hated eachother? I mean, you had thought about him in a different light recently, but never actually considered he’d like you.

You and park sunghoon had been skating rivals for almost 7 years straight, right up until this moment.

“yes or yes, idiot.” (park sunghoon)

“wha- what??” (yn)

“i’ll take that as a yes.” (park sunghoon)

before you could react he pulled you in a bit closer, your heart practically about to explode. What were these new feelings? Why were you feeling them for him? For your enemy.

In that moment right there, marked the beginning of a new relationship. A fresh start. Putting the past behind, The both of you started anew.

a bit of a long drabble/short story, but i just couldn’t get hoon out of my head for some reason 😓 ALSO requests are open if you want to request something for me to write <3

THANK YOU FOR READING!

#yoiiwonn #kpop #sunghoon #park sunghoon #enhypen x y/n #enha #enhypen #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x y/n #sunghoon x you #enemies to lovers #enemy #ice skating #rivalry #drabble #fluff #light angst #angst #park sunghoon x reader #yoiiwonn blog #jealousy #jealous #likes are nice

[hippolotamus]

Tagged by my love @disasterbuckdiaz (with a super hot snippet) @daffi-990 (with a whole lotta feels) @tizniz (with a super cute new fic 🦖) @buddierights (with a sweet fic of V-day past) thank you lovelies 💖

Today I bring you two snippets because Fuck It, amirite??? The first is because I was rewatching Fellow Travelers last night and a moment in Episode 2 hit me like a freight train.

But then the skit starts.

Caroline and Carlos, dressed in a suit and skirt respectively, playing as a couple having dinner at home. Caroline sits at a small table while Carlos stirs an empty pot of imaginary soup.

Even though it’s all pretend, the whole scene is so terribly, achingly domestic. A reminder of an unattainable dream. Within seconds Tim feels as though he is submerged, drowning in heartache. It fills his lungs, taking up precious space where air should be. Every silently jagged breath burns as he tries to take in oxygen, but only receives more pain. He doesn’t know how he’s not making a spectacle of himself, attracting attention to the way his heart cracks, just short of breaking completely.

It is a relief when Carlos approaches him, holding out the wooden soup spoon. The gesture is silly but provides a much needed reprieve. Tim finds it in himself to be able to laugh again as he’s fed the invisible offering. A bright feeling that bursts forth, genuinely happy as it displaces his gloominess.

When Carlos and Caroline have bickered and teased their way to the ending, they bow and curtsy as the group claps and cheers. Some even call for an encore. Instead Caroline insists Mary put a record on so everyone can dance.

A lesser version of Tim’s earlier distress settles over him like a thick fog. It blankets him in loneliness while he watches Mary and her lover sway to the music, holding each other close with their cheeks pressed together.

Snippet #2 is noticeably more zesty (any guesses from the banner???) but with no fewer feels. Find a bit of honey, when you call my name under the cut 😏 Hoping this one will be posted very soon.

“You okay?” Buck’s face is etched with such concern and care it makes Eddie’s chest tight. A squeezing around his heart that makes him wish he could pull it from behind his ribcage. To clutch it in his palms while he shows off all the places Buck’s mended and healed for him. A way to prove that Eddie is more than okay, and only improving as they continue to intertwine their lives together.

“Yeah, baby. I’m good.” Eddie lifts his head, angling his neck so he can kiss Buck again. He pours all of his gratitude and overwhelm into it, hoping the message is clear. That their unique brand of silent communication applies here as well.

It must because Buck continues to slide in, albeit slowly. He goes inch by inch, periodically checking in with a questioning look that Eddie returns with a small nod until Buck’s fully seated. And it feels… unusual. Not in a bad way, but an altogether different sensation than the times he’s fucked himself with his fingers or a toy. Of course it would be, because it’s Buck. It’s novel and precious and life changing. An event that Eddie would scribble in his diary if he had one. But at the same time — it’s Buck. So it’s also an inevitable homecoming, like being able to finally set down his burdens and breathe a sigh of relief.

“So good, Buck,” Eddie tells him before the question can be asked, because he knows it will be. He can see it in the infinite blue staring back at him, sparkling with affection and love.

Buck dips his head down, brushing their noses together, and Eddie doesn’t miss how bright, sunny blue turns darker, like dusky twilight.

“Gonna move as soon as you say so,” Buck murmurs against his lips. “‘ve wanted to fuck you for so long.”

Eddie’s belly swoops and his muscles clench in anticipation. Because it’s a two way street and this has been years in the making for both of them.

“Oh, yeah?” Before Buck can answer he tacks on, “Do it then. You’re not the only one waiting here, y’know.”

He’s rewarded with a mischievous smirk just before he feels Buck pull back. A moan — closer to a growl — rips out of him when Buck thrusts forward again, making him feel so, so full and whole. Complete.

no pressure tagging @wildlife4life @spotsandsocks @wikiangela @jesuisici33 @diazsdimples (I know you have something to share by now!) @stereopticons @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @theotherbuckley @monsterrae1 @buckaroosheart @indestructibleheart @thewolvesof1998 @loserdiaz @fortheloveofbuddie @steadfastsaturnsrings @elvensorceress @honestlydarkprincess @spaceprincessem @apothecarose @barbiediaz @chaosandwolves @eowon @giddyupbuck @heartshapedvows @hoodie-buck @ladydorian05 @lemonzestywrites @statueinthestone @singlethread @the-likesofus @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @watchyourbuck @your-catfish-friend @vanillahigh00 and anyone else who wants to share

#Eddie has feels but he’s *impatient* #chop chop Buckley #buddie wip #fic: honey when you call my name #hippo writes #fuck it friday #fellow travelers wip #when that skit starts and Tim’s eyes get all sad #idk dude it just *hurts*

[coffyao]

one more time

Summary:

Long-term abstinence has been the best TLC you have ever had after breaking off a turbulent relationship, but as of recently, you have started to crave the feeling of being ruined once again. But since emotional bonds are no longer on the table, perhaps being drained physically will sufficiently do the job…

link to my a03: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalaloopsyland

I’ve had my terrible share of relationships. They had a few things in common and that was that they all had a handsome face and body, but it was juxtaposed by their horrible personalities and lack of self-control. After the end of my fourth one, the only person I realized who was to blame was myself. I kept coming back to them, hoping that things could be better between us.

Well, that was the optimistic lie I deluded myself with.

--

 If I had to be completely candid, then it would have to be the back-and-forth that I enjoyed every time we argued. It would have been the way he would hurt me with his words but soothe me back to life with the presents he showered me with.

It would have to be the way he would scream at my face, with saliva and all with eyes that fucked every part of my soul.

It excited me because I knew that my body would be in for a rough time.

however, as much as my body felt satisfied, the emotional drawback of all of those relationships inevitably made me leave. The control and the horrific jealousy that came from their hypocritical mouths was something I could no longer take and the damage that I had at the end of it, had to be something I had to fix.

So, I decided to remain celibate for a while.  I didn’t count the months or days, so I didn’t remember how long it had been.  Then I decided to browse the internet one day.  It must have been on a Saturday night; I was wearing a black satin nightie, and I couldn’t stand the quietness in my house.

 so, I switched on my television to have ambiance in the background, so I could feel less lonely. I had my laptop on my lap, and I was trying to find ways to get off.  Then I came across an advert and being as absent-minded as I was, I ended up clicking on it.

It was an advert for gigolos.

 I had never heard of such a thing. But I was curious. So, I scrolled down, and on each page, did it contain profiles of terribly attractive men. 

But younger men, to be precise.

 But I wasn’t old, so I was truthfully offended that my own algorithm recommended this. But that feeling washed over me quickly when I came across a profile that made every single follicle on my skin stand up.  I had to immediately turn my screen brighter.

The first thing that I noticed about his pictures was his green eyes, sharp like emeralds and intimidating like venomous snakes. He certainly wasn’t timid about the assets he had either, as those pictures flaunted the muscles that were underneath his tight, black shirt. His biceps were huge, and the tiny fang that had shown itself when he smiled was a nice touch.

But that wasn’t what convinced me.

What convinced me was the scar that was across his left eye, like it had its own story to tell.

I was intrigued by it.

So, I reached out, and like a starving hyena, he loved that opportunity.

__

He suggested that we meet at an Italian restaurant since it was the most casual non-casual way of setting up a date.  I had no desire to, but he insisted otherwise because he wanted to get to know me first.

But I felt nervous because I could sense what type of person he would be. most likely emotionally unavailable, had a loose tongue, and nothing to show for it except for his amazing body and extraordinarily great skills in bed.

My exact fucking type.

So, I was sitting in my seat and overdressed in my slip midi dress, makeup, and strapped stiletto heels. It was an early evening when it was at its busiest, and I ordered a bottle of pink prosecco, already on my third glass as I awaited his arrival. Many of the people in the restaurant were couples which was hardly a surprise at all, and a perfect way of making sure we blended in with them as well.

I didn’t want anyone to know what kind of relationship we had.

Then he came in. He wore about anyone would expect from a man, which was a black blazer with a slightly opened white shirt and trousers.

But the greatest difference was that they weren’t him.

and he wore it like it was entirely his.

And when he arrogantly stuffed his hands into his trousers and walked like he was the only person in the room, I couldn’t say I hated it.

He then casually sat down on my table, shoulders relaxed, and grabbed his wine glass, gesturing it towards me.

“…Aren’t you going to pour me a drink first?”

I twisted open the prosecco, and vigorously poured the drink into his glass, hoping some of it would spill onto his face.

“Appreciate it.”

He took a sip and placed the glass to the side, leaning forward.

“…So, from the details that you have sent me,” as he kept his voice low, “I understand that you don’t want companionship, is that right?”

“That’s right.”

An emotional connection built overnight meant absolutely nothing if I had to pay my way to see him.

He scoffed sarcastically, keeping his intense gaze on me.

 “… so, then it's straight to business huh?”

He snatched the wine glass, and drank the rest of his drink, setting it down and wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

“Because I really did intend on courting you. good conversation and whatnot.”

Not if we are only seeing each other once.

He also had a tactless way of talking to women, saying whatever he wanted and felt. It was evident through his text messages, but it was glaring when they met face-to-face.

But his lack of manners was the least of my concerns.

I shook my head, “…I don’t care for any of that, because it’s fake.”

“…what part of it is fake?”

“You. Your fake. But that’s why I chose you.”

He slowly leaned back on his chair, rubbing his chin in thought before leaning closer and revealing his grin, nonchalant yet with an underlying tone of danger to it.

“…Well, then you would be right. I don’t really give a shit about you.”

Fuck.

“But that’s the unfortunate news neither of us care about. Do you wanna hear somethin better?”

Even though the restaurant was loud, I had a paranoid inkling that someone was listening in to our conversation, a conversation we really shouldn’t be having, so I brought my ear closer to him, so he could say exactly what he needed to say.

“If there’s one thing that I do care about, then it would be making sure I…”

Then, he stopped speaking and pulled away.

“can’t ruin the element of surprise, now, can I?”

He stood up from his seat and snatched the bottle from the table.

“… a bit of that liquor courage just in case,” he murmured and tipped the rest into his mouth.

Fucking cocktease.

__

Once we started to head towards our hotel room, where the corridors remained quietly vacant, and the moon hit the reflection of the window, I thought a part of me would start feeling regretful.

I was waiting for it to hit me, to convince me that perhaps I wasn’t going about this the right way.  it was the reason why I searched up many advice forums, so I could console myself, and reach a place where I could heal.

But it was all a mistake.

And it’s because I wanted to fix myself the only way I knew how.

-

“…Are you going to open the door, or should I?”

And I didn’t need a gentleman.

“No need, I will,” I said, inserting the key into the lock.

I just wanted an unapologetic waste of space.

I opened the door, and he followed, closing it after me.

He then wrapped his arms around me and pressed a single kiss on my neck, the sharp scent of prosecco stinging my skin.

“…I told you, liquor does wonders to your confidence.”

“But does someone like you even need it? Your ego is plentiful already…”

“…Well, that’s where you’re a little bit off the mark I’m afraid.”

He then starts moving his large hands toward the middle of my dress, using his fingers to fondle the sides of my breasts.

He whispered against my ear.

 “...couldn’t be bothered to wear a bra?”

“…wasn’t for you. It was for my comfort.”

A partial lie.

“Ah ah, but I didn’t ask you if it was for me,” he tutted, repeating the continuous motion, his fingers, ever so subtly, brushing my nipples.

“You just assumed I did, how perverted do you think I am?”

“…v-very if you keep touching me like that,” I tried stating calmly, but it was taking every part of me not to helplessly melt into his touch and reduce me into nothing.

“…oh no, I’m just fulfilling your desires.”

He moved his hands toward my straps and forcibly pulled my dress down.

“Every single dirty one.”

I turned around, and he wrapped my hair around his hand, pushing me down until my body was on the ground, the bristly carpet floor rubbing against my knees.

He unzipped his trousers, and immediately pulled down his boxers, revealing his erection.

“here’s your first one. Now come here and suck it.”

As pathetic as I was, I needed to follow his command.

I inched closer and put my hands around his cock, lightly caressing the tip with my fingers, before putting my mouth into it.

“suck it harder.”

“y-yes,” I murmured, using my tongue to suck it as hard as I can, his approving groans encouraging me to go deeper.

“Fuck, that’s the spot…” he muttered to himself, moving his pelvis along to the motion of my mouth, becoming evident that he was coming close.

“…hey, I can come in your mouth, right?” he said, putting his hand on the back of my head, ready to push the moment I uttered a ‘yes.’

And I did. I wanted it in my mouth.

“yes-“

And he pushed my head until my mouth covered most of his shaft, the mix of my saliva and his cum making its way into my throat.

He then pulls my head back, observes the mess he made on my face, and manically grins.

“…you know what you look like?”

“No,” I said, still dazed.

“a fucking whore.”

He started tearing off each piece of his suit, throwing it all by the side and leaving him completely naked, the most prominent features in the pictures that I saw of him being shown to me all at once.

He is the pictures.

“…and do you know what I’m going to do to you now?” as he crouched down to my level.

“no...”

“I’m going to fuck you as hard as I possibly can.”

He suddenly grabbed my inner thighs, pulling me up until I was face-to-face with him, his face inches away from my lips.

I want him to devour me.

Then, he throws me on the bed and climbs on top of me, his hot body against mine.

I couldn’t look at him, as his eyes pierced through my skin, and my vulnerabilities were bare in front of him.

His fingers trailed along my stomach until he reached below, and using his hand, tore away my underwear and inserted two fingers into me.

he wasted no time picking up the pace, as his fingers continuously thrust against my C-spot, whispering obscenities whilst doing so.

“How is your dirty pussy so wet for me?”

And more.

“You just keep sucking me in and in...”

And fuck me more.

“Fuck, I want to make you come so bad.”

Then, I immediately came, the natural high of an orgasm overwhelming me until my body finally became still, that high wearing off.

But I still wanted to continue that high. I wanted it soooo badly.

“... and we aren’t even at the best part,” he said, momentarily getting up to grab a condom from his jacket and ripping it apart with his teeth.

He then went back on top, and he leaned into me, rubbing his cock in between my folds, and pulling it out again, and it drove me fucking crazy.

“Just put it in me already.”

“You want me to?”

Fuck, I really, really hate cockteases.

“...Please.”

“Ah, but I don’t want to.”

But even though he kept shamelessly denying me what I wanted, I found myself wanting to beg him, pacify him, and make myself completely his bitch.

“fuck, toji please!”

“…god I love how pathetic you are.”

“I am, I’m so pathetic,” I repeated, inching myself towards him.

“Damn right you are,” he sneered, as he tortuously pushed in and out, whilst keeping his eyes closed in on me, a mind game that I wanted to desperately win.

“I just need your cock, I need it inside me.”

“you want it that badly huh?”

“I want it, I want it, I want it,” I begged.

“then fucking take it."

Using the full force of his body to completely overwhelm mine into submission, a sensation I couldn’t hide, nor could I escape from.

“You love my cock that much huh?”

And I had to rejoice.

“fuck-fuck-I-do- “as he mercilessly slammed his cock into me over and over, and I became what he wanted me to be; a song that he could play for as long as he wanted.

And he played,

“I love it- I love it - “

And he played,

“Right there- fuck right there - “

And he played,

“Oh god- Oh god- “

And I eventually started to break.

But he wanted to end it in the best possible way.

“-Want me to make you cum?”

And my prayers became true.

But I couldn’t properly communicate my appreciation for those answered prayers, as my voice became hoarse and quivered each time,  as he thrusted like he was doing it once more.

So, I nodded, but he still wasn’t satisfied.

“Hah- come on I asked you a fucking question,” grabbing my chin with his hand, tilting it sideways until his lips were against my ear, and he commanded me.

“Hm? are you going to cum for me?”

And another one slipped out of his mouth like it was nothing.

“…are you going to cum for daddy?”

And I had to answer him, despite how close my head came to exploding.

“fuck-yes-i-want-yo-“

And I became numb.

the grip that I had on my voice completely letting go and the painful trembling in between my legs, becoming never-ending.

And he sighed, putting his mouth against mine, savouring the tears that poured down my face as he shoved his tongue.

He eventually pulled away and licked his lips in satisfaction.

Like he’d finally made me into his own.

_____________________________________________________________

#toji smut #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x reader #fushiguro toji #jjk smut #jjk x reader #smut #jjk fushiguro #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic

[random-thought-depository]

I've signed up for a program that will pay me for doing in-home caretaking work for my mom's elderly partner (it's work I've already been doing for free for years, might as well get paid for it). I got my first paychecks yesterday and my bank cleared the funds by this morning!

I was owed a few months of back-pay because of how the application process worked (I started the application process November last year), so yesterday I went from having $70 in the bank to having almost $2700! My regular pay is going to be about $900 per month. It's not much, but it's a big step up from where I was a month ago both in terms of family/household income and in terms of my personal financial autonomy!

Lately I've had the frightening realization that I'm almost 40 now, my life for the last 10 years or so has resembled that of a bird atrophying in an austere cage, this state of affairs has enough inertia that there's no obvious inevitable end to it except me dying of old age or being social murdered (likely some combination of both), and even this low level of safety and comfort is fragile, the obvious plausible default ways my situation might change in the near future are that it gets much worse, e.g. that I quickly end up homeless after my elderly mom dies and her social security deposits stop coming. This realization frightened me enough that I have begun to make more systematic efforts to improve my life. That probably sounds like some Jordan Peterson bootstraps thing but actually a big part of the economic/financial side of this project for me is to stop listening to the neoliberal eligibility worker in my head, stop doing welfare avoidance, get a lot more strategic about leveraging the welfare system to try to get my family into better conditions. So far, my big project to improve the living conditions of my family and improve my own life has achieved two big successes:

- The thing I talked about in the first and second paragraphs of this post.

- I have spent my life from puberty up to now semi-voluntarily celibate, I think mostly because of a heterosexual male version of lesbian sheepitude induced by a combination of over-correction away from being a type of guy women complain about a lot, former bullied kid alief that other people are likely to experience me soliciting interaction with them as an irritation, and assessment that most women wouldn't want a male partner who starts with my socio-economic condition (poor and still lives with my mom). I would like to begin having an erotic life that at least occasionally includes sex with one or more other people, and to that end I have made a resolution to be more forward in expressing romantic/sexual attraction/desire. By doing this, I was able to make "Tumblr is a hook-up app" work for me, I have an appointment with a woman who wants to take my virginity in June!

These feel like good signs. My wings are not powerless and dead!

The next big thing on my agenda is to try to get my family out of our tiny overcrowded slum apartment and into a better place, one where we can have a kitchen, a bathroom we don't share with other tenants, and where I can have a private room. My mother and her partner are both elderly and I'm now an officially registered caretaking worker for my mom's partner, so I am hoping I can find some housing assistance for seniors program that will give them a better apartment and let me live in it too as a live-in caretaker.

#about me #TMI warning

[supernovaa-remnant]

I know other fans like to talk about how aro-coded lovejoy songs are and all that, but I am a firm believer that "It's All Futile! It's All Pointless" is the most aro-coded song of their entire discography.

This is one of my favorites of their songs, and I have analyzed it and am now deciding to share this analysis with tumblr.

This is gonna get long, so everything will be under the cut:

Let's start with Verse One:

To start with, university is seen as this place where you learn more about yourself and find your people and overall discover yourself as an individual. However, despite the idea of finding your own path at university, there are still societal norms that people just expect you to experience.

In our society, romance and sex are two of the most fundamental milestones in a person's life. At university, people expect you to forge romantic relationships and sometimes sexual relationships, and the only (in society's eyes, acceptable) reason to not be doing so is because of focusing on studies. I, for one, expected that I'd inevitably experience some romantic interests at university, before I realized I was aromantic, like, a month before going.

Point is, it's expected, and it's often just treated like a given.

Now, I've seen other people talk about this, but there's very particular word choice with "datelines" and "sextant." Taking a geography course to learn the datelines and maybe use a sextant can also be read as going to university with the expectations of going on dates and maybe having sex (because, for all that sex is considered a societal norm, there's also a lot of stigma around it with purity culture, but that's an entire other discussion).

But sometimes that just doesn't happen. And, this isn't a unique aroace experience (and some aroace people do date or have sex at uni), but the point is that, sometimes, aromantic people go into uni with the same expectations that society tells them to have, and then that doesn't happen. Or it does happen, but it goes badly. Because sometimes self discovery leads to realizing you don't experience these feelings that are so often attributed to being human.

Continuing on, later in this same verse societal expectations are brought up again.

This is essentially just a list of what society tells you adulthood is. This is the future in store for you. There's references to the Nuclear Family dynamic as well—where there are two parents in a romantic relationship and their kids. In the line previous to the one above, the romantic partner is mentioned, so it's safe to picture this as the Nuclear Family model.

But, you'll notice that the line very specifically talks about having to do these things. You have to reproduce. You have to get married and have kids and be in a romantic relationship and maybe have sex, but not too much because, again, society often views sex as something dirty.

But no where is there any indication of wanting this future.

(It should be noted that some aromantic people do want this type of future, and some do not. Aromanticism is defined by little to no romantic attraction, and it is experienced in vastly different ways by different people. There is no one way to aro).

Onto the Pre-Chorus!

Now, this line can be interpreted in different ways, but this post is about looking at this song through the lens of aromanticism, so that's what we're focusing on.

This line is talking about not actually missing the person with whom you've had romantic relations, but, rather, the thought of that romantic relationship.

The thing is, society practically promises kids a happy ending in the form of romance. Romance is the happy ending, and, without it, it's a sad ending. Because of this, there are a lot of aromantic people who feel almost robbed of something that was promised to them. This can lead them to pursuing romantic relationships anyway, even when that's not something that will actually make them happy. So, they're missing the thought of the relationship rather than the person it was with. It's them missing the thought of this promised happy ending.

(Again, there's no one way to be aro, and this is far from everyone's experiences).

Let's quickly jump to the second verse (we'll get to the chorus last—that's my favorite part and the part that you may find most interesting).

These lines very much read to me as specifically an aroallo experience. It's showing preference of the sexual aspect of the relationship rather than the romantic relationship.

But the partner wants that romantic aspect. The partner feels the romantic attraction that an aroallo person might not. So, he's picking a lock he doesn't go into, because this person isn't going to reciprocate those romantic feelings and are more interested in sexual relations. (But it can be difficult to have a no strings attached sexual relationship, especially with alloro people who might fall in love).

Anyway, this line is pretty straight forward to me as an aroallo experience, but feel free to ask for clarification.

The bridge:

This again goes back to society essentially telling people that they'll be unhappy and alone without a romantic relationship.

Being aromantic can be an incredibly isolating experience. Especially when you're at university and you're in a period of such great change within yourself and in those around you. This isn't true for everyone, but being aromantic and seeing everyone around you get into romantic relationships can be scary and can bring forth so many negative emotions.

Because of this, sometimes aro people decide to pursue romantic relationships even if they don't necessarily want to because they feel like they'll be left behind and end up unhappy if they don't.

But it's okay as long as it makes them feel less numb and alone.

Finally, the chorus, which is the most fascinating part imo.

This is the chorus as it appears in Lovejoy's version of "It's All Futile! It's All Pointless!" However, what some people don't know is that there's a slight variation in the original version of the song which was released in 2020 in Wilbur's "Maybe I Was Boring" EP (essentially the songs that didn't make it onto ycgma).

Whilst the chorus is the same the first time it is sung, the second time the chorus is played, there's a change.

Now, on it's own, it may not seem like much.

"Stella! How are you connecting this to aromanticism?" Patience, dear reader.

For the life of me, I cannot find this reddit post where this was originally commented, but Wilbur said that the line was originally supposed to be "it's a strategy to ensure I remain (in love)," but that last bit was never recorded.

However, it is so interesting to me because, yes, it can be interpreted in an allo way, but it can also so easily be interpreted in a number of different aro ways.

Option A) This aromantic person has fallen in love. It's under specific circumstances, it's the exception, whatever, but they want to stay in love. Why? Well, admittedly, sometimes I think it'd be easier to be alloro. Because, as previously mentioned, being aromantic can be such an isolating experience.

Option B) This aromantic person wants to stay under the illusion that they're in love, even if they're not. Why? For the reasons above, or because that way they can feel less broken.

There's a plethora of different reasons why some aro people sometimes want to be in love. And a lot of the time it ties back to society hyping up romance for basically all our lives, and then suddenly being confronted with not getting that. Not to mention the whole relationship hierarchy thing where romance is placed at the very top of the pyramid, and, well, sometimes people just want to be someone's first priority like a romantic partner would be.

Bonus:

There was a stream at one point where some chatter said something along the lines of "us aromantics are going to steal your songs" (I saw this clip in an edit earlier today which inspired me to make this post, but I cannot find the clip on it's own so I haven't included it </3).

Wilbur then goes onto say "you aromantics need to read my lyrics. you should read It's All Futile! It's All Pointless! Figure out what it's about." He of course then went on to briefly mention Perfume and said something about most of his music, but he said iaf!iap! first.

And, honestly, combined with everything in the song itself going all the way back to the original version of the song, I just think it goes to show that this song is the aromantic-coded lovejoy song of them all.

Why do Wilbur's songs have various levels of aro-coding? Idk. Tbh it's probably none of my business. I just think it's neat.

Anyway, thank you for coming to my TEDTalk. Please go listen to both Lovejoy's version and the original version of "It's All Futile! It's All Pointless!" and remember to stream wu&io!

(All four songs of Maybe I Was Boring is in one track of the same name on Wilbur Soot's spotify account if you want to listen to the original version of the song).

#lovejoy #wilbur soot #it's all futile it's all pointless #iafiap #aromantic #<— I love how the tags are the colors of the flag <3 #lyric analysis #I guess #pebble brain #miwb

[seakicker]

fertility archon.. fertility VISIONS

There’s no set criteria for getting one, Only known facts about the people who receive them other then the fact that they’re sexual MENACES /pos

Men who receive fertility visions notice a sudden height increase as well and muscle growth.. and dick n ball growth teehee🥰 Loads become thicker, Man Musk (TM) becomes more present than ever.

Women who receive fertility visions notice sudden weight gain, Extra sensitivity around the nipples and pussy, the enlarging of the breasts and butt, and random lactation <3

holy FUCK yes yes yes come here so i can kiss your brain. make out with it, even. this is incredible and i am especially drooling at the concept of men with fertility visions being sweatier and having stronger pheromones than men without such visions hnnnfffgg

it almost seems like the people who receive fertility visions are chosen at random— there are people from all walks of life and all sorts of backgrounds with fertility archon visions. they wear them as symbols of pride and they more or less become the centerpiece of any outfit; who wouldn't want to show off the fact that they've received the fertility archon's blessing? i choose to ignore the canon that archons don't actually give out visions okay it's so much more fun when you imagine the archons handing out visions

men get taller, muskier, sweatier, more muscular, and a little hairier as well particularly in the pubic + happy trail region. their loads get thicker and larger; one condom isn't enough to hold their entire load so they usually end up forgoing condoms altogether... no big deal, it just prevents breeding anyhow! no use fussing with trying to put a new condom on while you're still coming because that would just be a mess, right?

i feel like others with fertility versions are particularly in-tune with each other's pheromones and thus the men's scents are even stronger to them, but those without fertility visions are also more attracted to these pheromones though the attraction is 100% subconscious. it's a little embarrassing because these men realize they need to change their shirts more often due to the sweat stains, so a lot of them just end up going shirtless when they're out. no big deal; that means less obstruction for the pheromones so they can better lure in partners to breed <3

women's pheromones are also stronger and, like aforementioned, do a better job arousing partners with fertility visions as well, though non-vision holders also find themselves subconsciously drawn to these bona fide succubi. their tits are much more sensitive than before and also grow a cup size or two due to both the vision's power and the sudden onset of breastmilk. the milk is absurdly sweet and rich and they're awful prone to leaking; taking a fresh shirt with you in your bag whenever you go out is basically mandatory when the shirt you're currently wearing inevitably gets stained with your own milk. hips widen + thighs and belly soften and grow and your hair and skin get softer and shinier... consider it an appetizer to the pregnancy glow you're sure to experience once you get knocked up.

very very delicious ask anon thank you for this FUCK

#im eating this UP #fertility archon reader #chats #spicy #sudden weight gain and hyperlactation... hot hot hot hot #cw breeding #cw pregnancy #cw lactation

[obitohno]

sex toys | 01

gojo, mahito

themes ⤸

fem! reader, 18+, sex toys!, vibrators, remote controlled vibrator, vibrator control, public masturbation, public orgasms, paddle, slight bondage, spanking, spanking as punishment, dirty talk, praising, mahito is mean, but so is gojo

word count ⤸

0.9k (unedited)

a/n ⤸

so, this is going to be a mini series of head-canons bc this post was supposed to include more characters, but i’ve decided to split them up bc these two ended slightly longer than i’d originally planned—enjoy!

reblogs are appreciated ~

it was a mistake to tell gojo about the hidden stash of toys shoved under your bed, and you should’ve realised it as soon as the corners of his mouth had twisted into that infuriatingly attractive smirk of his. 

it’s a regret that has you currently glaring holes through the screen of your work computer, your thighs pressed tight together in a bid to ease the ache that is literally vibrating its way to your clothed clit.

you have no one to blame but yourself. the dare had been a ridiculous idea to begin with; one that had had you bragging about the fact that it was usually you who made him cum first. of course, you should’ve predicated that he’d rise to the bait and twist your words into a game that you’re now no longer sure you can win. 

your knee jerks under the desk, a quiet gasp pushing its way past your teeth-bitten lips, and when you feel the vibrations increase in speed, you know that you’re not going to last much longer. muffling a curse under your breath, your chair loudly scrapes across the tiled floor, prompting a few curious glances aimed toward you. but you’re too busy making your bid for freedom to notice. 

the journey to the bathroom is only a two minute walk from your work station, yet it drags on for what feels like an eternity. each step jolts the egg-shaped vibrator that had been pushed deep inside you earlier this morning, and your clit throbs painfully. you barely make it inside an empty stall before the vibrator is suddenly pulsing at the maximum setting, and your knees buckle. 

you just manage to catch your balance by slapping a hand to the cubicle wall, rushing to lock the door shut behind you. 

hunched over, you keen, voice a lot louder than it should be, and despite the fact that you desperately try to prevent the inevitable, your walls flutter once, twice, and then you’re coming undone with a hoarse moan that is muffled into the palm of your hand. tears bite at the corners of your eyes, and your thighs tremble with the effort to stay upright, chest heaving as your lungs desperately fill themselves with air. 

the device is suddenly still, and you slump against the cubicle, the surface of your skin still thrumming with the aftermath of your orgasm. you don’t have the chance to think about what the hell you’re going to do about the mess that now stains your underwear, because there’s a gentle tap that distracts you. 

your fingers fumble with the lock, and when you tug open, you’re not at all surprised to see that annoying grin plastered to gojo’s face. he leans against the doorframe, towering over you as his head tilts, appraising the frustrated glare that mars your features. the sight has his smirk widening, and he leans closer to whisper into the shell of your ear:

‘i win.’ 

ɞ  

mahito is fucking mean, his grin downright wicked as he tugs at the rope that binds your wrists together, pulling at you until you’re bent over his knee. 

you squirm, already anticipating the finger that traces a shapeless pattern down the length of your spine, and you arch into his touch, fingers scrabbling to find purchase on the bedsheets when the length of his index finger ghosts over your slit. your hips wiggle in a lame attempt to bury that finger inside you, only to still when he withdraws, tutting down at you. 

‘ah, ah,’ he mocks, eyes boring into the back of your neck, lips curling into another cruel smirk. ‘none of that.’ 

you huff, shoulders slumping with defeat. 

a thin grey brow quirks at your attitude, and then, the cool leather of his favourite paddle is pressed to the curve of your backside. you squirm, your spine stiffening upon the promise of what is to come. ‘been a real fuckin’ brat lately,’ he hums, more to himself than to you, and you can’t help the slick that oozes its way through your folds when your hole clenches at the false pity that sullies his tone. ‘you gonna make it up to me?’

he’s not asking, you recognise by the flat surface of the paddle gently tapping against your asscheek. 

‘m’sorry, ‘hito,’ you manage to croak, unable to hide the way that your voice trembles with arousal. 

‘tch,’ he scoffs, ‘don’t sound very sorry t’me.’ 

the paddle nudges between your legs, and your thighs immediately spread, grinding against the cool leather that is starting to warm to your body temperature. shame burns your cheeks, but that doesn’t stop your cunt from clenching, and he coos down at you. 

‘so fuckin’ needy.’ 

his fingers tickle over your skin, mismatched eyes fixated to where you grind against the paddle, the smooth material stained with slick. the sight has him smirking once again before he roughly tugs it from between your legs. the loss has you mewling a protest that morphs into a huff of indignation, that is then interrupted by a shrill yelp bursting past your lips when the flat of the paddle sharply collides with the round of your ass. the lack of warning shocks you, and you whimper when mahito’s fingertips smooth over the newly formed welt that is quickly rising to swell on the surface of your skin. he hums, amused when your bound hands twitch to grab at the sheets in order to brace yourself. 

‘got nine more,’ he tells you, ‘think you can take ‘em?’ his name is breathed from between your lips, and you nod. he voices his approval in the form of a low moan of his own, eyes bright as he stares down at you, ‘good girl.’ 

the paddle is tapped against the fresh welt that is starting to redden, and that is your only warning. 

‘start countin’.’ 

© obitohno. all rights reserved. do not repost my works.

#♡ jordy is writing ♡ #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #satoru gojo #gojo smut #gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #mahito smut #mahito x reader