Visit Blog
Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.
#idk i had a rough go of it when i was a teenager and it matters a lot to me to do what i can so other people don’t feel that way
thegeminisage · 8 months ago
Do u have any advice for a questioning ace or resource references that may have helped u? I consider myself a bi ace and I DO find ppl attractive and beautiful and I feel all gooey/butterflies w attractive ppl but I also don't want to have sex with them?? Like maybe down the line if I really RLLY fall in love with someone and they want that I can try/ease into it but I don't have any intention or want to do that right now. Does that sound ace at all?
the website i went to when i was figuring stuff out was the message boards on aven, but i haven’t been there in over a literal decade, so i can’t vouch for it anymore - i feel like i read that they had a little bit of a racism problem in recent years. reddit is for the most part deeply DEEPLY cursed but i comment over at r/asexuality sometimes (not...under this name i have a secret name lol) and they seem like generally a good bunch. just, uh, don’t wander out of there. i really wish i had a tumblr blog to give you but i find most of them these days are filled with people complaining about aphobia which is SOOO fucking valid but it gets disheartening to see on your dash like ALL the time yk? but if anyone has any they can link ‘em in the notes. imo the best resource is to talk to or read about what other ace people are saying about their feelings and experiences, especially older aces or people who are “used to” being ace, if that makes any sense. not to sound too self-important but being almost two decades out from my first “oh i might be that” moment i like to think i qualify lol. i say this a lot but ftr my door is always open for these kinds of questions!! 
anyway, first of all, the short answer, yes, that does sound totally ace. you can get the butterflies and find people beautiful without finding them HOT/sexually attractive. you can be attracted to someone w/o it being sexual. so if all or most or even much of the time you don’t feel sexual attraction, you’re under the ace umbrella.
asexuality is on a huge spectrum and there’s not really any such thing as like the ace police who are gonna come throw u in jail if you’re not “really” ace. but labels are supposed to describe our experiences, not the other way around - you don’t need to worry too much about if you’re “ace enough,” if that makes any sense. you're allowed to just try it out and think of yourself that way for awhile and see if it feels good and makes you feel more right with the world. a lot of ace people go thru TONS of different labels - i was bisexual, demisexual, a lesbian, a bunch of stuff. so don’t feel like you have to pick one and stick to it.
one of the things about asexuality is that it’s really hard to confirm the ABSENCE of something (which is why a lot of ace people wind up IDing as bi at first - in both cases it’s a situation of feeling the same about every gender, it’s just the switch being flipped “on” or “off” - also please read that post i think it would rly help u). it’s also easy to mix up sexual attraction and libido, and for a lot of people, especially afab people/people with periods, both can fluctuate with both the time of month and your age. so you don’t have to have a clear-cut “ugh NO thanks” reaction or total disinterest in sex/finding other people sexy to “count” as ace. neutrality or ambivalence totally “counts” too (the ace community even coined special terms for people who are sex neutral vs repulsed vs favorable), even having sexual attraction one every other month when the weather is right or having a list of exception “counts” because there are SO many ways to be asexual, it really is such a massive spectrum!!! and aces are the last people who are gonna be gatekeepy about it lol
i don’t personally care for microlabels, i don’t even use the split attraction model because i find the sheer amount of jargon overwhelming/exhausting and difficult to explain to the general population, but reading through the list of them (this list also explains some split attraction model terms) gives you an idea of sheer number of different ways people experience asexuality and attraction to others. it’s part of why i love being asexual, because even if we tend to overthink things, we’re a group of people who are willing to tackle the norms of sex/romance/etc and talk about the different ways those feelings have us interacting with the world. my point is at some point almost every ace person has gone “does that even COUNT as ace?” so like if you’re asking the question imo that’s one of the most asexual things you can do lol <3
anyway, that’s it!! like i said, you don’t have to memorize that whole vocabulary list up there, i personally find the sheer amount of jargon to be too much, BUT i think it’s good to know that there are a lot of ways to “fit” into that ace box. so if it’s a useful label for you and it helps you communicate how you feel to other people more easily, Thats The One, yk? i hope you got at least a little something helpful out of the rambling. ur always welcome to write back if u ever want to talk <3
8 notes · View notes
rowema-ravenclaw · 9 months ago
half-blood prince be gone (nobody likes you anyway) || h.p
request(s): hi! i love your writing so so much. if you can, can you please write a dom harry smut with a spitting kink and a slapping kink?
jealous harry and he ends up railing you yes pls
summary: tired of harry ignoring you for some prick who called himself the half-blood prince, you decide to make him jealous when you get paired up with roger davies.
word count: 8k
warnings: S M U T, angst (but make it horny), lots of swearing, fighting/yelling, jealous!dom!harry, spitting kink, slapping kink, choking kink, short spanking, slight degradation, 2(?) mentions of eating in the very beginning, rough sex (vaginal), coming in pants (idk what you would even call this tbh), lots of hickeys, fluffy ending<3 (i think that’s it but please lmk if i’m missing anything!)
*i took the liberty of adding a choking kink and made them both aggressive switches because i can<3
YOU WERE REALLY starting to get fed up with his shit. And that goddamn book he was always carrying around. It seemed all Harry cared about anymore was that pompous Half-Blood Prince. He read and reread that stupid, ratty old Potions textbook day in and day out, during meals, during classes, during your free periods, everywhere. It was like he’d superglued it to his hands for Godric’s sake.
A textbook had replaced you and you were seething about it. Resentful, exasperated, cross, livid, irritated, all of the above.
You’d decided to give Harry the silent treatment three days ago, figuring it’d teach him his lesson. Instead, he’d barely noticed your absence or how you only responded to him in scoffs or grumbles. You hadn’t spoken directly to your boyfriend for three, today would make it four, days and it only added to the burning pit of fury in your chest.
Hermione, as observant as ever, had been the first to notice the rather obvious split between you and Harry.
You were sitting at breakfast, playing with your food, but only a few bites had actually entered your mouth. Anger wasn’t exactly a great way to increase your appetite. And neither was knowing the fact Harry was sitting across from you, oblivious to your pent up emotions.
“Y/n, are you alright? You haven’t eaten much,” Hermione observed from next to you.
You shrugged and dropped your fork on your plate with a clatter.
Hermione frowned and leaned over closer so the boys across from you couldn’t hear.
“What’s going on with you and Harry?”
You clenched your jaw as your gaze fixated on the book in Harry’s hands and then moved back at your friend. Hermione got the message and gave you a sympathetic look.
“He has been rather obsessed with that thing lately, hasn’t he? I told him it was a bad idea, getting caught up in those odd spells and such, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“Tell me about it,” you grumbled. “I’ve been giving him the silent treatment since Sunday and he still hasn’t noticed.”
Hermione patted your shoulder. “Harry’s always been oblivious, Y/n. I’m sure he’ll come to his senses soon.”
“Doubt it,” you replied bitterly.
The bell rang just then, cutting off whatever Hermione was about to say. The four of you had Potions together, so you all started off to the dungeons.
You and the Golden Trio arrived to Slughorn’s classroom just a minute before the bell rang again and took your usual seats. Unfortunately, you were seated next to Harry.
You sat down with a huff, rolling your eyes when Harry almost ran into your table because he couldn’t take his eyes off that stupid fucking book. He only looked up from the ink filled pages when Slughorn began his routine speech at the beginning of class which was often overrun by a personal anecdote.
You picked at a chip in the table as Slughorn droned on about another one of his famous students. You’d almost completely tuned him out until,
“We’ll be switching partners for today’s class! It’s important to get to know a variety of people in your careers. You never know when you might need a helping hand,” Slughorn said enthusiastically.
Your ears perked up at the chance of getting to work with someone who would actually pay attention to you.
“I’ve already assigned you new partners, so listen for your names everyone!”
Harry’s eyes lifted from his book that he’d reimmersed himself in. 
“Hermione Granger and Alicia Spinnet, Ron Weasley and Lavender Brown, Pansy Parkinson and Katie Bell, Terry Boot and Draco Malfoy, Y/n Y/l/n and Roger Davies, Harry Potter and Blaise Zabini...”
Your gaze flitted around the room until they landed on the attractive Ravenclaw boy in his seventh year, grinning back at you. You smiled warmly and waved as Slughorn continued calling out names.
“Ugh, Zabini’s a prick,” Harry muttered, presumably to you.
You paid him no mind, beginning to pack your books back into your bag so you could carry them over to Roger’s desk.
For the first time in four days, you could feel Harry’s eyes on you.
“I’d much rather be working with you,” he said, pulling only a quiet scoff from you.
Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him frown a bit.
“Y/n, are you alright?”
Slughorn had finished reading everyone’s names and people began to move about the classroom. You stood up without a word and moved toward Roger, but a strong hand grabbed your wrist.
Before Harry could get a word out, you turned and scowled at him, wrenching your arm from his grasp. He looked confused as you whipped back around and stalked over to Roger.
Taking a deep breath, you sat down next to him and put on a pleasant smile.
“Hey, Roger. How’re you?”
“Brilliant now that we’re partners,” he replied with a smile. “You’re one of the best in class.”
You laughed a little and pulled your books out. “I’m no Potions Master.”
Before Roger could reply, Slughorn started to explain your assignment.
“Today, after studying its properties, consequences, and origin we’ll be brewing Amortentia and assessing what each of you smells.”
How perfect was this? Harry watching you make a love potion with another guy? That’d surely get his attention.
And you were right. As you and Roger worked together, quite closely, you might have added, you could feel a pair of familiar green eyes burning into the back of your head.
An hour later, you’d almost completed your potion, which was close to perfection. All you had left to do was stir in a complicated sort of pattern. Roger noticed you were having trouble after a minute or so of you struggling.
“Need some help?” He offered politely.
“That’d be great, thanks. I can’t seem to get it right,” you replied gratefully.
Your gaze was so focused on your cauldron you didn’t notice Roger coming to stand behind you until you felt his large hand encase your own. Roger’s chest pressed softly against your shoulder blades and you could feel his breath just barely blowing on the back of your neck. His grip on your hand was light and your forearms brushing almost tickled.
Your breaths were light and barely there as he led your hand in smooth, complex strokes. The green eyes were burning more intensely into your skull than ever and despite your nerves, what with Roger right behind you, you felt yourself smirking a bit.
“Are you getting it?” Roger’s soft voice breathed against your ear.
You eased into him, your previously tensed muscles relaxing. “I think so.”
Another minute went by and then Roger was pulling the ladle out of the cauldron and laying it on the table. It took him a few more seconds to let go of your hand and slip over to his seat on your left side.
You sat down, too, and looked over the assignment again.
“Alright, we’re supposed to write down what we smell now,” you paused and turned to Roger. “You want to go first?”
He shrugged with a grin, dark eyes sparkling handsomely. “Why not?”
You watched as he leaned over so his nose was enveloped by the smoke curling and dancing above your cauldron. Roger pulled away a few seconds later and you noticed his pupils were twice their size. Jotting it down on the “side effects” section of the assignment, you looked back up at him curiously.
“What’d you smell?”
“Old books... coffee beans... and lavender and vanilla shampoo.”
Your eyes widened at the last remark. You used lavender and vanilla scented shampoo.
Roger turned to you, pupils still blown and shining. “Your turn.”
You leaned over, resting on your elbows, until you were surrounded by the fumes of Amortentia. You took a deep breath in and let the immense pleasantness wash over you. The smell alone was warm, inviting, full of passion, and it made you wonder what drinking it would feel like.
“Well? What does it smell like to you?”
You were snapped back to reality, the musty aroma of Hogwarts’s dungeons invading your senses. You plopped back down in your seat, trying to get the fleeting feeling of bliss to stay.
What did it smell like?
You frowned and scratched your head for a few moments, trying to differentiate the warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest from the comforting mixture of smells that had engulfed you moments ago.
“I think it was, um... butterbeer, petrichor, and er...” you trailed off at the end, cheeks tinted a soft pink.
Roger, who had been scribbling down your answers, raised his thick eyebrows. “Go on.”
“And, uh, Harry’s shampoo.”
You saw Roger stiffen a bit, but he kept writing nonetheless. The rest of class went by a bit awkwardly as the two of you finished your assignment with a few minutes left to spare.
You’d just closed your bag back up after refilling it with all your Potions materials when Roger said,
“You and Potter in an argument or something?”
You straightened and sighed, trying to force a laugh that came out as more of a grimace. “Is it that obvious?”
“I’d like to think I’m more observant than the average teenager,” Roger replied with a fleeting smile.
You didn’t know what to say, so you just sighed and rested your chin on your hand.
“It’s alright, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Just thought I’d ask to make sure.”
“Make sure what?”
“Make sure I didn’t embarrass myself if I tried to ask you out. Good thing I did, right?” Roger chuckled. “Don’t think Harry would much like me asking his girl out.”
“Probably wouldn’t even notice if you did,” you scoffed.
“Really? ‘Cause it sure looks like he would,” Roger replied, gesturing to your right.
You turned your head to be met with a forest of evergreen on fire. The intensity in Harry’s eyes had you shrinking in your seat a bit, but you didn’t want to be the one to break first. You stared straight back, jaw set and one eyebrow cocked as if to say “noticing me now, huh?”. It was like there was an invisible tennis match going on between the two of you on opposite ends of the classroom.
Harry only turned away when Slughorn, oblivious as ever to anybody but himself, came up to talk to him and Blaise.
Your mood severely dampened, you turned back to Roger with a scowl.
“Jeez, wouldn’t want to be in the room when that explodes,” Roger grimaced.
“Yeah,” was all you replied with, no longer in the mood to have a friendly chat about your love life.
Just then, the bell rang and Roger shouldered his bag while rising from his stool.
“Good luck. If it doesn’t work out, you know where to find me.”
You made a face at his back when he turned away. Sure, Roger was nice, but, being honest, he was known to be a bit of a know-it-all snob. His ego had been growing ever since Fleur Delacour let him take her to the Yule Ball two years prior.
You started on your way to Charms, a class you didn’t share with any members of the Golden Trio. You realized, halfway to Flitwick’s classroom, that you’d forgotten your Charms textbook in your dorm. Groaning and already running late, you hurried to the shortcut up to Gryffindor Tower you’d found a year prior. You took the stairs two at a time until you reached the corridor leading to the Gryffindor portrait hole.
Enjoying the echoing slaps of your quickening angry steps in the empty hallway, you ran through a list of insults you’d like to snap at Harry right about now. You were so angry, you’d be willing to break your silent treatment just to be able to tell him how much of a--
“The fuck were you doing with Davies?”
The unfamiliar tone of a voice you knew all too well stopped you in your tracks. It was almost a growl, low and gravelly and angry.
Your scowl deepened, your lips and body unmoving, refusing to acknowledge the absolute prick of a boyfriend behind you.
“I asked you a fucking question,” Harry rasped into your ear.
You could feel how close he was, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear, chest centimeters away from pressing against your shoulder blades, just where Roger had been standing.
You still didn’t say a word, determined to prove your point. Your body moved forward just a few inches, intending to keep walking, before being pushed against the stone wall to your right.
Harry’s face finally came into view, eyes still burning with rage and jealousy like a forest fire. His lips were curled into something resembling a sneer with his jaw clenched tightly, like he was grinding Roger’s bones between his teeth already.
Your book bag slipped from your shoulder to the floor at the impact. You couldn’t even bend down to retrieve it, seeing as Harry had a vice grip on both of your shoulders.
“What was that goddamn stunt with Davies, huh?” Harry demanded, blazing eyes flitting over your stony features.
“Oh, fuck off, Harry,” you spat. You were tired of silence. He was going to hear exactly how you felt about him and his precious Half-Blood Prince.
“No, how about you tell me what the fuck you were thinking.”
“I was thinking about completing my fucking assignment, you asshole,” you said, trying to shake his hands off of you.
Harry scowled, dropping his hands, but blocking your path. His body practically covered yours, gluing you to the wall.
“Don’t think I didn’t see him, standing behind you, holding your hand like that!”
“Godric, he was helping me stir our potion, that’s all!”
“Bullshit!” Harry shouted.
“No, no, no. You know what is bullshit?” You said, shoving your pointer finger into his chest harshly. “The fact that the only way I could get your attention is by making you jealous!”
“What the hell are you talking about? You’ve got my attention all the time,” Harry argued.
You barked out a bitter laugh. “Oh now that, that’s bullshit!”
Harry’s anger seemed to falter. “I’m seriously not following.”
Reaching into the bag hanging from his shoulder, you pulled out the tattered old potions textbook and waved it in his face.
“You’ve got to be joking,” Harry scoffed.
“Joking?” You fumed, slapping the book against his chest and holding it there. “This book has been the only thing worthy of your attention for weeks and I’m fed up with it! Do you know how long I’ve been giving you the silent treatment?”
Harry’s eyes were furrowed, mouth agape. “Wha-?”
You threw your hands up, feeling the urge to start screaming. “Four days! We haven’t spoken to each other in four days. And you couldn’t bother to notice or care until Davies started hitting on me!”
“Hitting on you? What did he say? I swear I’ll--”
You cut Harry off by shoving him backwards by his shoulders. “You’re the biggest fucking tosser I’ve ever met, y’know that, Harry? All you care about is making sure other guys--who are actually interested in talking to me, by the way--don’t come near me while you’re off making out with that fucking book of yours!”
“Oh now that’s ridiculous,” Harry scoffed, “I don’t make out with my textbook.”
“Well you sure as hell haven’t been doing shit with me, so I’d just assumed you were getting some action from another source. Get any paper cuts in strange places recently?”
“You’re being stupid,” Harry snapped, the spark of anger reigniting in his irises.
“I’m not!” You shouted, stamping your foot for the full effect. “I have every goddamn right to be angry my boyfriend ignored me for some pompous Half-Blood Prince for four days! Your obsession has been growing for months now and it’s seriously concerning, Harry!”
“It’s not an obsession,” he argued, crossing his arms defensively.
“You’re deflecting,” you replied impatiently.
“I’m not deflecting shit.”
“So you’ve got nothing to say? Nothing about ignoring me for days on end? Nothing about any of it?” You demanded.
All you really wanted from Harry was a sincere apology and a promise to balance his time better. You just wanted to spend time with the boy you loved. Was that so horrible?
Unfortunately, you were so riled up, burning with months worth of pent up frustration and resentment, that you couldn’t get those sensible words to leave your mouth. You’d always had a problem with pride. A problem which you and Harry both had in common.
Instead of replying with an apology that he knew would fix everything, Harry could only stare down at you stubbornly.
After a minute of tense silence, you scoffed and leaned down to snatch your bag from the ground.
Pushing past Harry, you muttered, “Davies might get lucky after all.”
You didn’t know what’d made you say it. You knew it would only make Harry angrier, and perhaps that was the reason you’d said anything at all.
You weren’t given the chance to decide before Harry was whipping you around again and crashing his lips against yours. Teeth clashed and tongues fought viciously for dominance, the combination of both of your anger mixing like TNT and a lit match. It was explosive, vehement, frenzied, bordering on violent.
Harry’s teeth sunk into your bottom lip as your nails scratched down his arms. They left streaks of red on his bare forearms, where his sweater’s sleeves were rolled to the elbows.
Finally, you pulled away, pushing him back to catch your breath. The seething burn of fury was still running through your veins as you glared up at the bespectacled boy. He stared back down at you, face flushed and body tense.
Without saying a word, you grabbed his tie roughly, pulling him the last couple of feet to the Fat Lady’s portrait.
“You two should be in class,” she chided as you came into her view. “Not shouting in empty corridors!”
“Leo at aurea,” you replied with the password impatiently. You weren’t in the mood to deal with the Fat Lady, who could be rather annoying at times.
“Well, I say,” the Fat Lady sniffed as her portrait swung open. “They really should be teaching manners at this school!”
You and Harry both ignored her, climbing through the hole quickly. As soon as the portrait swung closed, the two of you were clashing tongues again. Stumbling through the fortunately empty common room, you both made your way to the staircase leading up to the boy’s dormitories.
Finally, Harry became so impatient with the rather complicated dance your feet were doing to try to climb the stairs, that he grasped the backs of your thighs and wrapped them around his waist. Your ankles locked behind his torso, pushing your hips flush against his. Arms wrapping around his neck, your hands went straight to his hair, giving a rough tug to as much of it as you could fit in your fist.
The door to Harry’s dorm burst open and slammed shut a second later when he shoved you against it. You could feel him beginning to gain dominance over you and you hated it.
Quickly, and with difficulty, you pulled away. You paused momentarily to smugly admire Harry’s swollen lips before pulling so hard on his hair his head was forced backward. A strangled groan left his lips, blazing eyes fluttering closed for a few seconds. Your other hand trailed from his scalp to wrap around his overly exposed neck. You squeezed gently, enjoying the sight of the prominent veins under his tan skin trapped under your slender fingers. You could feel his pulse racing in those same veins, the blood rushing through them as his breaths became shallow and fast.
“You like that, don’t you?” You sneered, grip becoming even tighter.
Harry lifted his head to look at you in a challenging manner, but made no attempt to remove your fingers from around his jugular.
“Answer me!” You demanded, fingers digging even deeper into his throat while you used your other hand to yank his hair again.
When he still didn’t answer, your fingers untangled themselves from his hair and painted his left cheek a bright red with a harsh slap.
“The least you can do is answer a simple question. I would have thought all that reading you’ve been doing would have taught you how to answer hard questions,” you said in a mocking tone.
Harry’s fingers were digging into the back of your thighs in a deliciously painful way as he glared at you with clenched teeth. Despite Harry’s anger, fueled by intense jealousy, he was desperately trying not to moan and turn to putty in your hands.
“Now, I’ll ask you again,” you said, retangling your fingers in his hair. “You like the way my fingers squeeze your throat, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Harry answered, spitting the word out like it was a bad taste on his tongue.
Before you could gloat, Harry was turning around, taking the few steps to reach his bed, and throwing you onto the four poster like you weighed nothing. The force had your fingers slipping from their hold around his neck, something you weren’t very happy about. You didn’t get the chance to complain before Harry was on top of you, capturing your lower lip in his teeth again.
Just as your tongue was about to win dominance, Harry pulled away again.
“What, scared to lose?” You taunted, reaching up to pull him back down by his tie.
Instead, you were stopped by a sharp smack to your cheek. The stinging sensation went straight down to the spot between your legs. You stared up at Harry, mouth slightly agape. He was wearing a shit-eating smirk.
“I don’t lose to desperate sluts.”
He was talking down to you, and it was making the blood coursing rapidly through your veins boil.
“Shut the fuck up,” you spat, wrapping your legs around his waist again.
Your heels dug into his lower back, forcing his hips to grind against yours. The hard-on Harry was sporting was large and an extreme turn on. And you hated him even more for it.
“That pretty mouth of yours is nasty, Y/n,” Harry teased, his large hand coming to grip your jaw tightly.
You couldn’t reply with a biting remark as his strong fingers squeezed your cheeks, forcing your lips to purse and part slightly. He kept his grip tight as he leaned his head down so your lips were just a few inches apart.
And then he spit in your mouth, watching with dark eyes as his saliva coated your tongue and mixed with your own. You should have been disgusted and even angrier, but the action was so erotic you couldn’t help but be even more turned on.
“Swallow it.” 
Harry’s voice was deeper and raspier than before, if that was even possible. An obvious sign he was just as aroused by it as you.
Despite wanting to gain your dominance back, you listened. Harry’s eyes traveled to your throat, watching it bob up and down as the saliva traveled down it.
“You’re so fucking hot.”
It was the nicest thing either of you had said to each other yet.
“I know.”
You reached down, fingers snaking between your intertwined bodies, to brush over Harry’s ever growing erection. He let out a soft, unintentional whimper when your fingertips grazed over the bulge in his trousers. In his distracted state you were able to flip over so you straddled his hips. Both of your palms moved to dig into his chest while your hips began to circle on his in rough, fast movements.
Harry’s hands flew to your ass, gripping it underneath your skirt. You could feel the callouses on his fingers through the thin material of your panties.
Harry was trying desperately not to buck his hips into yours, the feeling of your clothed cunt grinding against his extremely hard cock trapped in his trousers making it immensely difficult.
It didn’t take long before you could feel Harry’s dick twitch underneath you. One of your hands went back to his throat, squeezing tightly as a fold in his trousers rubbed deliciously over your clit.
“Going to come already, dirty boy?” You panted. You didn’t want to let on your own climax was already building, too.
“Let me take them off,” Harry grunted as his cock twitched again.
“No,” you replied fiercely. “Come in your pants or not at all.”
Harry, chest heaving, lifted his head, that had previously been pressing into the mattress, to half-heartedly glare at you with hooded eyelids. His pupils were blown so large you could barely see the forest fire blazing in his irises anymore. You squeezed his throat even tighter in response and rutted your hips against his one last time. The feeling of your fingers cutting off his air supply and the intensity of your last thrust had white hot strings of cum shooting into Harry’s boxers. Loud moans spilled out of his lips as the movements of your hips continued. You enjoyed the sight of him writhing under you, completely submerged in the pleasure you’d caused him.
Finally, you stopped a minute later, shifting backwards to smirk at the large dark spot covering the entirety of the crotch of Harry’s pants.
“Look at the mess you made,” you mocked, watching the way Harry’s fists twisted the sheets and his chest heaved up and down as he came down from his drawn out orgasm.
When he didn’t reply, you decided to taunt him. He wasn’t angry enough. You wanted him to feel the same way you’d been feeling for days on end.
“Bet Davies could have made me come with him.”
And suddenly you were being flipped onto your stomach, chest and cheek pinned to the mattress, back involuntarily arched, and ass sticking straight in the air. The movement was so quick it flipped your skirt up, giving Harry a clear view of the soaked lace covering your cunt.
“Say that again, I dare you,” he spat from above you.
Your face was being pressed so hard into the mattress all you could manage to mumble was “Davies--mmph--come--”
Harry grasped a handful of your hair, yanking it so hard your chest was careening off the bed, back arching even further.
“If you’re going to speak then speak clearly,” he snarled in your ear.
All you could do was whimper pathetically as his teeth grazed a sweet spot just below the shell of your ear.
“That’s what I fucking thought.”
Your head fell back onto the mattress as Harry let go of your hair to pull his trousers down. You were expecting him to push in as soon as he freed himself of his cum-filled boxers, but instead he was flipping you on your back again.
Watching him tug off his shirt to reveal the hardened muscles you’d been craving to touch for days had your thighs squeezing together. Unfortunately, Harry noticed and used his knees to spread your legs apart while he threw his sweater on the floor with the rest of his discarded clothes.
“Fucking desperate, aren’t you?” Harry said in a scathing voice as he began to unbutton your own shirt.
“I’m bored,” you replied just as ferociously despite the fact you were lying through your teeth. “Might as well just get myself off if you’re going to take so long. Or maybe I should get Davies to help me--”
Harry pulled the tie he’d previously been unknotting so tight around your jugular your next words were turned into incoherent splutters. Your wide eyes, shining with newly forming tears, staring up at Harry had his cock twitching again. He left the tie tight around your neck, continuing to work the buttons on your top. After a few more tense seconds, it slipped off your shoulders and the rough fingers moved to your back to unclasp your bra.
He left your skirt and panties on for now, taking hold of the tie that was beginning to feel more like a dog leash. A sharp tug on it brought your head down to just above his dick.
A shiver ran down your spine when his voice rasped in your ear, “Spit on it.”
Gathering the saliva from your already watering mouth, you pursed your lips and spit it onto his shaft, right below his tip. You let the remaining saliva drip down your chin, lifting your head when Harry’s hold on the tie loosened just a bit.
He was looking down at you, jaw muscles tensed, as your hand moved to slowly spread your spit over his cock. Neither of you broke eye contact as your hand moved up and down his shaft, thumb occasionally brushing over his slit and making him shudder.
And then, just as you could sense you were about to win, he was flipping you on your stomach again. His fingers dug into the soft skin of your ass as he ripped the thin lace from your legs, not even wasting the time it would take to pull your skirt off. The chance to complain about your ruined panties left as soon as he sheathed himself inside of you. He bottomed out on the second thrust, and on the third he brushed perfectly over your awaiting g-spot. You’d promised yourself to be as quiet as possible, make him work for it, but you were screaming into the sheets by the fifth time he thrusted into your tight cunt. His hip bones rutted into your ass, the force of his body slamming into yours pushing your cheek into the mattress so harshly your teeth were scraping the inside of it.
“Bet Davies can’t hit your sweet spot like I can,” Harry grunted from above you. His cock was brushing the place that had you trembling every time he re-sheathed himself.
You only whined in response. Your head was buzzing with so much pleasure, you couldn’t even think of forming a coherent sentence.
“Say it!” Harry shouted, taking hold of the tie again. He pulled your head back like before, forcing you to look at him.
Your back arched so far had him thrusting at a new angle. Your eyes rolled back when his tip rutted into what you could only guess was your cervix.
“Davies... can’t--oh shit holy fuck!--can’t fuck me like y--ou can!”
“Good to know you’re not a dumb slut,” Harry sneered at you. “Just a desperate one.”
“Not--fuck right there--not a fucking slut!” You gasped.
“Yes,” Harry paused and grunted, his hips stuttering a bit, “you fucking are.”
“Least I’m not a who--re for a fucking book!” You cried, fists twisting the sheets as your body threatened to topple over the edge into the depths of euphoria.
Harry pulled even harder on the tie, cutting you and your air supply off. You hated being silenced, but the feeling of the fabric cutting into your skin was only pushing you farther over the ledge that led to your impending orgasm. That combined with the feeling of his palm slapping your already bruised ass had your entire body trembling in anticipation for your release. Harry left three more harsh slaps on your ass, taking a few moments to appreciate the red imprints on your skin. Then, he was leaning over you, still rutting his hips into your thighs, lips pressing against your ear as he growled,
“The only thing coming from your--fuck you’re so tight--coming from your nasty little mouth from now on is my fucking name got it?”
You could only cough in response, looking up at him with blown pupils begging for a breath of air. Harry noticed your cheeks beginning to turn purple and let go of the tie, hand going back to leave bruises on your ass and thighs with a vice grip.
Your upper body couldn’t move, save for the quivering all over your body, as Harry’s pace became even faster than you thought possible. The crashing waves of ecstasy were in sight, only a few more steps until you were jumping off the ledge--
With one last stroke over your g-spot, the unbearably tight knot in your stomach snapped and you were submerged in a tidal wave of overwhelming pleasure. Harry’s pace stayed relentless as you writhed under him, screaming his name like a mantra, until his hips stuttered, cock twitched, and balls drew up. He pulled out in one swift motion, painting the entirety of your back with white hot strings of cum.
The room was filled with cries of each other’s names and pornographic moans. You didn’t think an orgasm had ever felt this good or lasted this long.
Finally, Harry collapsed next to you, heavy breathing the only sound in the room. You waited another minute before pushing your torso off of the mattress and sitting back on your still trembling legs.
“Fucked your jealousy out now, have you?” You panted.
Harry glanced over at you, eyes still dark and hooded. He didn’t reply, only nodded ever so slightly.
“Good. Now it’s my turn.”
Harry’s eyes widened almost comically as you climbed on top of him. Your breath hitched when your still throbbing clit brushed against his feverish skin. Leaning down, you attached your lips to his again, biting down roughly on his lip. A soft, feeble whimper slipped past Harry’s throat and entered your mouth.
“You sound fucking pathetic,” you sneered, pulling away to look down at him condescendingly.
Harry’s previously fucked out expression turned to one of contempt. Your fingers began to work at the taut knot in your tie until it came undone and slipped off your neck. Harry’s mouth fell open and you could feel his dick growing again beneath your thigh. Your nails ghosted over the raw skin, head tilting back so you were staring at the ceiling to give Harry a better view of the mark the fabric had left.
“Fucking hell,” Harry breathed. He shifted underneath you, reaching out to touch your neck, but you grabbed his wrist roughly.
“You got your turn,” you tutted, scooting farther up his body so you sat just below his sternum.
Harry stared up at you, eyes fixated on your neck as you took hold of his other wrist and pinned them to the headboard above his head. Using the tie that had just been around your neck, you tethered his hands to the wood.
Then, you were moving back down, attacking his neck with your lips, teeth, and tongue. You sucked dark purple marks onto his tan skin, flicking the spot with your tongue before you moved on. Only a few minutes later Harry was a squirming mess beneath you.
“Fucking tease,” he grunted as your thighs squeezed around his torso.
Smirking into his skin, you sunk your teeth into the sensitive spot on the side of his neck, just below his jaw. Harry cried out and bucked his hips.
“Maybe this will make you understand how I’ve been feeling,” you said, anger that you had momentarily forgotten, relighting with a vengeance. “Never getting what you want even when it’s right in front of you.”
“Just let me mark you once,” Harry begged in your ear. “Show Davies you don’t belong to him.”
“I don’t belong to anyone,” you snarled into his skin, biting down on it again. Harry could only groan at the pleasurable pain shooting through his body.
You sucked another mark on his collarbone, contemplating his request. You flicked your tongue over the spot when you’d finished, coming to a conclusion. Pulling your hair back with one hand, you leaned up so the side of your neck was exposed to Harry’s lips. Eagerly, he lifted hid head up, taking the skin between his lips. His tongue dragged over the spot as he sucked, almost soothing it. Your eyes fluttered shut, always amazed by the skill Harry’s mouth possessed. He nipped down to the very base of your throat, a spot he knew everyone would notice and repeated the process. You let him litter four more across the smooth expanse of your neck before pulling away. His head followed you, an annoyed grunt leaving his swollen lips.
“Don’t be ungrateful,” you snapped.
Harry grunted again and looked away from you like a child upset that their authority figure wouldn’t let them play with their favorite toy. It annoyed you to no end. You grabbed his jaw, jerking his head and forcing him to look at you.
“We both know it’s more than you deserved.”
Harry only scowled up at you.
Your hand moved from his jaw to his throat, squeezing the new blooms of purple and red forming on your canvas.
“Now I’m going to fucking ride you in this skirt and you’re going to watch me use you to get off. Maybe then you’ll realize what you’ve been missing out on while you’ve been obsessing over your precious little Half-Blood Prince.”
Harry only stared up at you, mouth agape and chest heaving at the thought of watching you get off on him. You wore a smug smile, bordering on malicious, as you scooted back down to hover over his cock. It was hard again, perhaps even more than before. Bracing yourself on his tense abs, you lowered your dripping cunt onto his dick. You went slow and deep for the first few strokes, your walls still sensitive from minutes prior.
After the first couple of strokes, the slight burning sensation faded into a comfortable filling sort of feeling. The second time you sheathed him completely inside of you the feeling morphed into a familiar pleasure beginning to build in the pit of your stomach. With Harry still completely inside of you, the tops of his thighs brushing against your ass, you began to bounce. The angle was immensely different from the position Harry’d had you in, so it took a couple tries to find the spot that could have you screaming in a matter of moments. When you finally found it you let out a loud moan, tilting your head backward.
Your pace continued to increase, ecstasy coursing through your veins, up to your head, and into your brain, making it feel fuzzy and like you were high on pleasure.
You were so far gone in your own euphoria, you’d almost completely forgotten about the writhing boy underneath you. That is, until a loud “Y/n, oh fuck, faster please, please faster! Holy shit!” brought you back to reality.
Looking back down and opening your eyes, Harry came into focus, his mouth open in a wide “O” shape, eyebrows furrowed, and cheeks flushed.
“I’m not taking requests,” you grunted, purposefully slowing your movements. “I told you, you’re going to watch me use you to get off. It’s got nothing to do with what you want.”
“Please,” Harry begged, chest heaving with shallow breaths. “Just untie me, please.”
Noting the fact Harry hadn’t used his safe word, you concluded it was only mindless begging.
“Take your punishment like a good boy and maybe I’ll consider it,” you replied, digging your nails into the smooth skin of Harry’s chest.
You picked your pace back up, watching the muscles in Harry’s toned arms flex as he tried to free himself of his bindings. Harry’s dick suddenly brushed up against your g-spot again and your nails dug even further into his chest, almost breaking the skin, as you moaned even louder than before. You twisted and swiveled your hips, hitting that same place over and over. You dragged your hands down his chest, nails leaving crisp red and white marks in their wake as your screams became even louder. Removing one hand from Harry’s v-line, you used it to rub fast figure 8′s on your clit. Your head fell backward completely as you teetered over the edge for the second time.
Suddenly, a familiar hand replaced the one on your clit. Your head snapped up in confusion. Looking through hooded lids, you saw Harry had been able to wriggle one of his hands free from your tie’s hold. You didn’t have enough willpower to stop him and retie his hand as the callouses on his finger pads rubbed perfectly over your bundle of nerves.
“Fuck, right there, baby!” You cried as Harry thrusted his hips up into you.
Two more thrusts like the first and you were screaming Harry’s name again, your entire body shaking. His hips continued fucking you through your orgasm, fingers never ceasing their movements. The feeling of his cock twitching and spurting his third release inside of you only drew out your orgasm. You swore you could see the entirety of the Milky Way. You didn’t know how it was possible, but this orgasm was even better than the first.
Finally, both of you stopped moving, save for the trembles and twitches of your legs, and you collapsed on top of Harry. You could feel his chest swelling and collapsing rapidly underneath yours as the two of you came down from your highs together. Harry had managed to free his other hand and both of them were rubbing up and down your bare back slowly. With his arm wrapped around you and your face buried in his neck, all of your pent up anger seemed to have faded away with the overwhelming pleasure of your orgasm.
A few minutes later you finally had enough energy back to roll off of him. A soft whimper left your lips when the full, comforting feeling of Harry inside of you disappeared. Falling on your back next to him, you felt the mixture of both of your cum beginning to leak onto your thighs and the sheets, but you were still too fucked out to care. The only thing you could focus on was Harry’s fingers intertwining with yours.
Another couple of minute passed before you felt Harry shift next you.
“Y/n?” His voice was raspy and soft, like his morning voice (that you had severely missed the past few weeks).
You swallowed a lump in your throat, unsure of the reason it had formed in the first place.
“Look at me, please.”
Slowly, you turned on your side to face Harry. He was laying on his side, too. His hair was messed up in that perfectly imperfect way only he could ever seem to pull off, his gaze soft, and lips turned into a soft frown.
“You know I love you, right?”
Your gaze flitted back and forth between his irises, anxiously searching for any flickers of doubt or dishonesty he might have saying those words to you. In truth, your anger and resentment toward him had been fueled by your own insecurities and fears. If a book could get him to completely ignore and forget about you, what would happen if a prettier, smarter, funnier, better girl or guy came along and caught Harry’s attention? You’d be left all alone, heartbroken and completely devastated.
It was as if Harry could sense your uncertainty, as if he could read all of the doubtful, insecure, painful thoughts circling in your mind.
“I do,” he promised, squeezing your hand, still intertwined with his. “I love you. So much.”
You sighed softly, looking away from his eyes. They were no longer blazing with anger and jealousy, instead twinkling softly in the late morning light.
“It’s just... you got so caught up in that book you barely remembered I existed and I... it just scares me that--that the same thing could happen if somebody better comes along.”
Harry was suddenly sitting up, looking at you incredulously. “That’s what you think?”
“I dunno, I just--it’s been worrying me for the past few days. And I don’t want to seem clingy or anything at all. We don’t have to spend every waking moment together, that’s ridiculous.” You were rambling now, but you couldn’t stop. “I was just so scared you were getting bored of me or trying to push me away that it all just built up and knowing how I felt just made me feel so angry and--”
Harry cut you off by pulling you into his chest. His strong arms enveloped you and held you against him as you tucked your face in the crook of his neck.
“I could never ever get ‘bored’ of you,” he murmured in your ear. The feeling of his face buried in your hair and his lips tickling your ear made you feel warm and fuzzy and safe. It reminded you of the way you felt when you smelled the Amortentia in Potions earlier. “You’re the most important thing in my life and I’ve been doing a shitty job of showing you that. I’m so sorry I made you feel that way, m’love.”
“I accept your apology,” you mumbled into his shoulder.
There was a short silence before Harry said, “I can get rid of it--the book. If that’s what you really want.”
It was the one thing you’d wanted for months, finally being rid of that horrible Half-Blood Prince. But now, with Harry holding you and whispering everything you’d been longing to hear, the ratty old Potions textbook didn’t seem like such a threat anymore.
“It’s alright,” you finally replied. “I know how much you like it, for whatever reason I don’t understand, but it makes you happy and that’s all that matters to me. Don’t get rid of it.” Harry let out a small relieved sigh. “Just... just remember to balance out your time, alright? I just want to spend time with you and have your full attention every once in a while.”
You could feel Harry nodding vigorously above you.
“Yeah absolutely, of course, I want to spend time with you, too. I really am sorry I’ve been such a tosser recently.”
You lifted your head to smile at him. “I forgive you, Har.” Leaning up to kiss his cheek you added, “You’re lucky you’re a cute tosser.”
He chuckled, the deep rumbling in his chest sending vibrations through your palms. “You’re pretty cute, too.”
The two of you met halfway for a soft, sweet kiss. You couldn’t help but smile into it as Harry’s fingers traced circles across your bare back. Your hands lifted from his chest to cup the sides of his neck, thumbs rubbing across his jaw. When you pulled away, you looked down to admire the purple bruises covering almost half of his throat.
“Those hickeys make you look extremely hot by the way.”
Harry grinned and took hold of your chin, tilting your head up a bit to get a good look at the bruises littering your own neck.
“Mmm, could say the same for you,” he replied with a slight rasp in his voice. “Don’t think a few more would hurt, do you?”
Your smile became wider, if that was even possible, as you threaded your fingers through Harry’s hair.
“I think a few more would be just fine--show Davies I’ve already got someone a million times better than him.”
Harry’s eyebrows furrowed a bit at the mention of Roger. “Did he really ask you out?”
You shrugged. “Sort of.” Harry’s lips turned down into a small frown. Nudging his nose with yours, you assured him, “Even if Davies’d proposed to me with a big, flashy diamond ring right then and there, I wouldn’t have said yes. To going out with him or doing anything else either.”
Harry’s frown disappeared as you looked up at him with complete sincerity. You kissed him on the lips again, scratching his scalp while your tongues darted out to meet each other. And then Harry’s lips were moving down to just below your jaw. You hummed as he grazed over all your sweet spots on his way down your neck, still massaging the roots of his raven hair.
“Davies is a snob anyway,” you whispered in his ear. “I love you.”
2K notes · View notes
kkusuka · 10 months ago
Shinsou, Bakugo, Mirio, and Dabi reacting to their s/o just looking really good for no reason. She’s not even doing much, she’s just on her phone or switch but she looks sexier than usual and deserves some dick
ahh~ horn-dog time
this is a total mess bc i got different vibes for each of these lol, idk if that made sense 
He’s not known as a horndog 
But he’s still a guy, and somehow seeing you playing with a kitten on the street just got him so riled up
You were barley through the door before he was unbuttoning your school blouse 
You're sure the neighbors would call the police if they saw what was happening at your front door. This was spurred by you petting a cat? That seemed like such an off thing to fuck your girlfriend against their front door for.
But as he’s bottoming out in you, you don’t think about the teenage boys next door or how Shinsou had never been this rough before. At this point you were sure that your neck looked as if you were attacked. 
“Toshi- p-please!” he didn't falter, not that he would on a normal day either. He wasn’t even listening to you right now, consumed by the feeling of your walls gripping him almost painfully. “Please, l-let me cum, i-i really need to-” you were met with even harder thrusts and a bite the crevice of your neck. 
“Go ahead Kitten, show everyone how much you love my dick.” 
I just know that he’s horny a lot of the time 
So the whole “just walk up to you and pull your pants down” troupe wasn't surprising 
And eventually you and just gotten used to expecting it when he came home 
But today it was 9am and he was getting ready to leave while you just scrolled on your phone a bit Once he was done showering he usually waltzed right in and got his costume on before dragging you to the kitchen for breakfast. But today he just stood in the bathroom doorway…….just looking(at your ass) ((directly at your ass))He wanted to bite your ass, right now....and that’s what he did 
He dropped his towel and walked toward you, grabbed your hips and pulled them up so you were on all fours, ass next to his face. 
And he bit
And bit
And bit
Until you were literally dripping all over his fingers,and he can’t just turn back after that, all or nothing “God shitty woman, you are just dripping like a street whore, all because of some bites?” 
No preparation needed he just shoved all the way into youHalfway through, he pulled your upper body into his chest and held your throat with one hand and play with your clit with the otherWhen you finished you both collapsed 
“What brought that on Katsu?” 
“Shut up!” 
Honestly, this was surprising to say the least 
He’s never been the lust driven kind of guy 
But he had a few moments here and there about just reem-ing you into the floor
“Oh god! Togata! Harder please-please!” if he had known you wood be so into it he would’ve fucked you on the kitchen floor sooner. You had just been making dinner for the two of you when he grabbed you and started rubbing your clothed cunny. 
Within a few minutes he was slamming into you doggy style on the floor like an animal. Usually he was soft and loving but this time it was like a man possessed. He was slapping your ass and pulling your hair while rubbing your throbbing clit. 
“Please-please.” you barely registered what you were saying as your orgasm approached at rapid speed. He must know that too considering the harder thrusts, that he seemed to throw his entire body into it, and the speedier circles around your bud. 
“You can cum, s’ok pretty baby” 
You always deserve to be dicked down to him
You always look the part
And we can all see that dabi just takes what he wants when he wants it
You can put the game down for a while and let him have his way
There was just something about the way you looked so effortlessly pretty. If he wasn’t so enamored by you, Dabi is sure that he’d hate you. Or just the way you make him feel. instant hard on from just watching you play on a stupid game boy? illegal, and that’s coming from a wanted villain. 
he was subtly trying to get closer and closer to you- are you not wearing underwear? your shirt -his shirt- was long enough to be worn as a dress so it makes sense but right now? fuck all that slow shit, you’re his so he can use you as he wants. 
now he isn’t going to give you a valid reason for ripping the game boy out of your hands in the middle of the round. He also isn’t going to give you a reason for flipping you face down onto the couch. Nor will he explain why he didn't take any of his closes off. 
“Sh, sh, good little mice don’t talk, they take what they get.” 
2K notes · View notes
vinnieslove · 4 months ago
idk if ur reqs are open but if not feel free to leave this in ur inbox until they are <3
vinnie meets yn at the skatepark and they don’t like eachother much at first, but as time goes on they keep meeting eachother at the skatepark and start to like eachother a lot <3 lots of fluff please!!
Tumblr media
summary || you bump into a random boy at the skatepark and you two instantly hated each other, over time you realize you had feelings for the boy you coincidentally kept running into.
word count || 1,682
warnings || fluff, swearing, an couple injuries, blood, that's all i can think of lmk if i missed any
authors note || enemies to lovers i love it. its real cliche but i love it. hope you like it :)
you were fairly new to LA and you had no friends. you moved out here to get away from everything back home. cheesy, i know. but it was true.
deciding you were bored with scrolling on your phone you looked around your half decorated apartment to see what you could do. you looked at the skateboard resting against your living room wall and shrugged. why not. you threw on some shoes and headed out the door.
it was only about a 15 minute drive to the skatepark, thankfully. hoping out, you grab your board and make your way to the park. its not too crowded there are a few groups. one in particular stands out though, a group of very handsome teenage boys. you decided no to think too much about it and continued skating.
you were. in your zone, doing a few tricks and focusing all your attention to your board. maybe too much attention, you didn't notice one of the boys from the group earlier crashed right into you. the boy wasn't paying any attention either. it being both of your faults
you were going to take a nice approach and apologize but you couldn't get anything out as the boy spoke rudely first. "yo, what the fuck?"
you furrowed your brows, it was partially his fault for not paying attention either. you looked down at your legs feeling a slight burning sensation on your legs. a decent sized, not too deep gash on your shin, dripping down to your relatively new shoes.
"thanks a lot jackass, now my shoe is bloody." you rolled your eyes.
"your shoes?" he started. "you broke my damn board." you did indeed break his board.
"okay, well sorry. you also weren't paying attention to me." you argued back.
this time he rolled his eyes, "yeah, well, watch were you're going." he spat.l
this time he rolled his eyes, "yeah, well, watch were you're going." he spat.
you roll your eyes for the millionth time for that interaction, grabbed your board and walked back to your car.
as vinnie walked back to his friends, he took one last glance at you and your bloody leg and shoe.
"yo, bro, why were you so harsh on her you also weren't looking." one of his friends said.
"she broke my board, bro." vinnie threw his now broken board at the ground near his friends.
it had been a few weeks since your rough encounter with the boy from the skatepark. you wound had been slowly healing. it currently was a badass looking scar with a small wrap around it.
sighing you realize you needed to go to the grocery store. when you moved in you only brought pantry food seeing as it wouldn't go bad during to ride over.
you sighed and put on some decent clothes, grabbing your keys, wallet, and earbuds and heading out.
you arrived at the grocery store about 20 minutes later. you put your headphones in and went about your shopping.
you headed down the next isle and grabbed a couple things before grabbing the last thing on your list that was in this isle. you noticed only one of them were left. you smiled to yourself knowing you got lucky.
just as you placed a grip on it you saw another hand grip the end. you follow the arm back to the face of the person who also wanted this product.
you couldn't believe your eyes. skatepark boy.
"well would you look at that, it's the girl who broke my board, which you still owe me a new one, by the way." attitude very prominent.
"i know you've reminded me before." you spat. you'd had previous encounter, they had been a bit rougher than this one.
he sighed, "take it," referring to the grocery in both your hands.
you were baffled, it was a bit of a nice gesture. "what, no you, i owe you the board."
"and i owe you shoes, you'll just pay me back sometime later."
"no, you take it, i'll get some tomorrow." you practically shove it against hime and walk away.
vinnie has to admit, you walking away was a sight to see. he also loves seeing you angry. he can't focus on that right now, he doesn't like you.
the very next day you went back to the store to get the few things missing on your list, including the product you forced the skatepark boy to have.
making your way down the familiar isle, you grab the last needed thing on your list. which so happens to be the product you and skatepark boy had argued over. it must've been a popular product in this city because once again, it was almost gone.
after you set the item in your cart and turning around, you found yourself face-to-face with skatepark boy. "what do you want, skatepark boy?"
he laughed at the nickname. he sternly shoved a pair of new, identical shoes that you got bloody the other day. "shoes. take 'em."
baffled, you took them in your hands. you looked down and inspected the shoes. they were the right size which you found creepy but you had the most common shoe size.
when you looked up he was almost at the end of the isle. "i can't take these! i don't even know you're name, dude!?" you yelled out to him.
"vinnie!" he yelled back.
and just like that, he was gone again.
"thanks, vinnie." you really only said to yourself in the most baffled, disbelieved tone.
now you really had to pay him back.
it had been about a week and a half since you and who you now know as vinnie had your last encounter. you had no idea why he gave you shoes. you thought he hated you. you had other encounters with him before that but this one really shocked you. you owe him a new board now. you don't even know where to buy boards in this city; or even where to find him.
you had spent over an hour driving to a place that sells LA's finest skateboard, or so what you've heard.
walking in you saw none other than vinnie about to pay for his new board. "wait!" you shouted.
vinnie turned his head and smirked. "skatepark girl." he reused the same nickname.
"its y/n. let me pay. i owe you." you shrugged take out your card.
vinnie was about to argue against that put you had already swiped your card. you looked up at the man who handed you the receipt and mutter a small 'thank you'.
walking out with vinnie hot on your trail, he began speaking, "you really didn't need to do that, y/n. i promise."
"yes i did, you bought me new shoes." you shoved the board to his chest. "take it. please."
"alright. thanks, y/n." he chuckled to himself, "i guess i'll see you around maybe. y'know since we always happen to run into each other."
"yeah, i guess." you said before making your way to your car.
now vinnie was the one to be baffled. he stood there like a deer in headlights. there was a small spark that ignited inside of him but he couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was.
three weeks had passed since that encounter and vinnie was left only with his thoughts. what was so intriguing about you? why was he being such a jerk to you?
he shook his head, grabbed his board, and rode down to the skatepark. he took his bag which was filled with a few bandaids, alcohol wipes, a couple waters, and an extra shirt.
he was there for about an hour before he heard a couple people 'oooh' in disgust. he looked over and saw a figure whose face was on the ground and had a few fresh scrapes on their legs.
he didn't think too much of it until you turned your head in his direction. his eyes widen and he grabbed his bag making his was over to you.
"hey, y/n, holy shit, you okay? what happened?" he reached for the bandaids and wipes.
"yeah, yeah. just took a hard fall." you groaned as you sat up.
"this might hurt." you watched as he took an alcohol wipe to the cuts on your legs, hissing at the pain. vinnie applied some bandaids and made his way to the big gash on your cheek.
"this might leave a pretty cool scar, y/n." he laughed trying to lighten the mood.
"yeah, like the one you gave me a month ago." nodding to your leg.
"i'm sorry about that." he apologized. "now this one might hurt more." he focused on the cut on your cheek.
you scrunch your eyes at the pain trying not to make any sounds. vinnie took out a bigger bandaid to put there. you still had your eyes closed, afraid to open them almost.
vinnie took notice of the blood dripping down your neck and wiped it off with a wipe. he also noticed that you had gotten blood on your shirt. what a coincidence.
"here, take this. you could use it." you opened you eyes and saw vinnie handing you a shirt.
"no i can't take this. i'm fine with this shirt."
"no please, i insist."
"vinnie, no. I'm fine."
"here how about this," he began. "you can return my shirt on our date."
well that had shocked you. "what? a date?"
"yes, a date. that's if you say yes."
you'd be lying if you say you were intrigued. "sure." you smile. he returns the smile.
you two exchange numbers and head your separate ways. vinnie with an accomplished smile on his face. he finally figured out that spark; and he finally got the girl he secretly had feelings for. you in a comforting shirt, which you probably weren't returning and vinnie knew that too, and a smile on your face. you had also gotten the guy who you secretly had feelings for.
maybe life in LA won't be so bad after all.
339 notes · View notes
jackrrabbit · a year ago
Runaways /// Dabi x f!Reader (18+)
Tumblr media
Summary: You were like an older sister to Dabi back when the two of you were teen runaways together; now that he’s found you as an adult, it’s not going to be so easy to get rid of him.
A/N: I could write a term paper on all of Dabi’s pathologies in this fic...I forgot how much I love writing smutty angst. Good shit 👌
I was planning on making this a ficlet so it’s kinda structured like that even though it ended up a full-length piece. Also, Dabi says some bullshit about sex work that I absolutely do not agree with or condone so please keep that in mind.
➠ see also: [homeowners association]
Tags/warnings: Dabi victimizes you, noncon/dubcon, light yandere, threats, cheating, NTR kinda?, mentions of past sex work, degradation, rough sex (breath play, impact play, crying), mild violence, very brief mentions of past child abuse in the Todoroki household, sad stuff/angst idk lol, *Daddy Issues by The Neighborhood plays in the background*
Dabi would know you anywhere.
You’re different now, which makes sense. It’s been years. Your old uniform of raggedy denim and hand-me-down leather has been replaced with a prim linen dress, designer label at the collar. You used to dye your hair religiously (it was neon pink when he saw you last) but now it’s styled back to your natural shade, a color he only saw back then when your roots grew out. You smell good, expensive. It does take him a second to recognize you without smudged pencil eyeliner drawn under your eyes like in the old days, but once he catches your gaze the realization is immediate.
It’s you. You. You.
You recognize him too, but your reaction is different—shock, then panic; you tug the arm of the man at your side, urging him to walk faster so you can pass Dabi on the sidewalk. The rejection stings for a second, but he isn’t too surprised. You did abandon him, after all.
Dabi doesn’t let it bother him. You’re not going to get away that easy. He pulls you into conversation, grinning when you reluctantly introduce him to your companion (who is, apparently, your husband) as an old friend from school. You didn’t go to school—Dabi knows that, and you know that, but your husband doesn’t. Which means your husband isn’t aware of your sordid past as a runaway.
This is going to be fun.
Once he knows you’re in town, he doesn’t have much trouble finding you. Your husband is a very wealthy man, well-known in this city now that he’s moved here. So this is what you’ve been up to all these years? Shacking up with some ugly motherfucker who’s at least 20 years your senior because he can afford to dress you up in pretty things and take you on overseas vacations? Dabi has to admit, he wouldn’t have thought it of you. Back when he knew you, you were so sincere, such an idealist, even in your darkest nights.
Then again…you always were willing to get your hands dirty in exchange for a warm meal and a place to sleep. Maybe you haven’t changed as much as you think.
Dabi comes to your house in the middle of the day when your husband’s at work and you’re stuck at home because that’s what you are now, a housewife. From a cocksucking whore to a pretty housewife with a dirty little secret. He’s getting hard just thinking about it as he watches your internal debate on whether to let him in or not. Eventually guilt wins out and you usher him inside, hoping the neighbors didn’t see a known villain lurking on your doorstep.
You make Dabi coffee (and aww, you remember exactly how he likes it). He gets you to talking, and you don’t seen surprised to learn about his current line of work; when he presses you, you admit that you’ve been following him in the news. Your life, in comparison, has been wholly uninteresting: you met a man, he proposed, and you married him. Very little has happened to you since. After a long silence you timidly apologize to Dabi for leaving him behind when you two were teenagers, and he tells you he understands.
He doesn’t forgive you.
Overall, things are good, he tells you. But you know, sometimes he misses the old days. Being on the run with you, stealing food from gas stations, breaking into fancy summer homes and pretending the two of you lived there. Stitching up each other’s cuts, because one of you had always gotten in a fight in the past few days. Sometimes he still has dreams about the smell of the balm you used on his fresh burns…and your cool hands, smoothing gently across the tender skin on his face, but he doesn’t say that.
You look down into your monogrammed coffee mug and tell him you know what he means.
When you turn your head like that, Dabi can see the tiny dots running up the side of your ear where your old piercings have scarred over from lack of use. Do you remember when he gave them to you? You did his first, running a needle through the lonely flame of your lighter (he offered to use his quirk, but it was still hard for him to control then so you declined) and then threading the metal through his ear. You promised it would only hurt for a second, and you were right, so he let you do the others.
Then you offered to let him do yours. Just one on each ear—you already had an impressive collection of piercings, but you wanted to let him return the favor, so he did. You were older and more experienced and had lived on the streets for longer, so when he held the needle in his hand and heard your voice saying you trusted him, it was the first time he ever thought of you as fragile, something delicate, something that he was capable of harming.
He chose twin helix piercings for you, cresting the shell of each ear, silver band rings to match his. When they were done you pulled him to a mirror and asked him what he thought. It hadn’t been long since he got the worst burns on his face (the ones under his eyes, wrapping around his chin and down his neck) and he was still getting used to the knowledge that the ugly, wrinkled scars were never going to heal. “I look like…” he started.
A monster. A freak. A victim.
“A badass,” you said. “You look fucking cool. Any asshole who wants to pick a fight with you will take one look and know you’ve been through worse shit than whatever they can dish out, and that’s something to be proud of.”
Now that Dabi thinks about it, he probably wanted you even then.
…But the longer he reminisces, the more nostalgia’s going to distract him. He came here for a reason, and it wasn’t to have coffee with you and talk about the good old days. What he’s about to take from you—what he’s about to make you give—is long overdue.
You’ve still got a little fight in you. Dabi likes that. But you’ve gone soft, filling out and losing muscle in places where you used to be lean and hard from the constant running and fighting of your old lifestyle. Besides, even if you were as strong as you’d been back then, he’d still be stronger than you—he’s a man now, and it’s incredible how small and weak you seem now that he can look at you as a man.
Were your punches always this light? No way…and your wrists couldn’t have always been this delicate. It’s really no trouble at all for him to wrestle you down to the couch and pin you there so he can tear off your stupid little housewife dress and tug your panties down past your ankles.
Once he’s got you fully naked, though, you pretty much give up trying to fight him off. It’s sad, really—like you’re remembering the past, remembering all the times you let other men hold you and fuck you just so you could have enough money to take yourself and Dabi to McDonalds for a few days. And now look, you’re plenty well-fed, but Dabi’s the one holding you down against your will. Funny how things change like that.
He does appreciate your submission, since it gives him the chance to get a decent look at you. The years have been kind—you look so much healthier than you used to. No more visible ribcage stretching out your skin; no more unhealthy pallor from going outside only at night. Your hands are as soft and manicured as if you’ve never done a day’s work in your life, a far cry from the bitten nails and bloody knuckles of your youth. It’s good to see you like this, and he lingers for a second, drinking in the sight of you and committing you to memory.
Dabi’s pictured this moment for years. He used to think he’d savor it, be sweet with you, slow and gentle to show you what you were missing with the trashy guys you used to hang out with. But now, hey—he’s the trashy one, he’s the one who wants to hurt you and own you and ruin you. May as well act like it.
Your husband doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?
You’re unbelievably tight for a former whore. Dabi can barely hold out when he first pushes into you, licking the tears off your cheeks when apparently it hurts too much for you to keep up a brave face. It takes real effort to fuck himself all the way into you, pushing past the tense squeeze of your muscles while you…well, you’re not exactly wet, but he’ll get you there. As soon as his hips are grinding up against yours, he’s hitching your legs up on his shoulders and pounding you into your stuffy antique couch so deeply that he thinks it might splinter into pieces underneath the two of you.
God, you’re so, so, tight. Dabi feels like a virgin with his cock buried inside you, biting his lip so he doesn’t cum in thirty seconds and thrusting into you with a rhythm that comes from nothing less than pure animal instinct. And you’re getting into it too. Can you tell that your pleading and begging him to get off you is turning into moaning? Can you feel your hips bucking weakly back against his, reverting to the position of the submissive bitch your body remembers even if your mind has tried to forget?
It’s perfect, right and good and perfect, everything Dabi’s been waiting for since he first knew what it was to want someone—no, not just someone. You. It’s always been you. A person never forgets their first love, right? It’s perfect, except—except you won’t look at him, you keep looking off to the side and sniffling, and that’s not going to cut it. So he slows down and wrenches your head back to center and makes you kiss him, sliding his tongue over yours and trying to see if he can feel the place where you used to have a piercing there, too. It’s kind of thrilling, actually—wondering whenever his face dips into yours if you’re going to bite him, if he’ll come back from you with blood in his mouth.
He’s only got to thumb over your clit a couple times before you’re clamping down on him, your body begging to be used and abused. Your husband hasn’t been treating you right, though Dabi doubts the old bastard can even get it up without a blue pill. Sure, you look like a sweet little doll, so darling and delicate and breakable, but Dabi knows you better than that. You’re strong, you can take it. He knows you want it rough, so that’s how he’ll give it to you—and hey, hey, he can feel your cunt quivering around him—you’re cumming, aren’t you? So you like it. You like it.
He knew he wasn’t going to last long before, but when you cum and tighten and squeal so high he thinks you could lose your voice, the tension in his abdomen rises up and he digs his fingers into your hips and—shit, you’re saying something, what are you saying? You’re pleading, begging him not to cum inside—but, ohhhhhh fuck he can’t help it, he can’t, he can’t, he’s cumming all the way deep into your tight little snatch, cockhead jutting up at your cervix, fucking his semen all the way through you until your slit is smeared white from top to bottom.
Stop crying. Dabi’s sick of hearing you cry.
You’re still pretty nimble, even though your current exercise regimen probably doesn’t extend beyond periodic jogs around your neighborhood and weekly pilates with all the other bored trophy wives. He’s kind of surprised when as soon as he lifts himself off of you, you have the strength to roll off the couch and scramble around on the floor for your clothing.
You don’t say anything, which he wasn’t expecting. You don’t scream at him, demand that he leave, or ask him how he could do this to you after everything the two of you went through together. You probably still think of yourself as an older sister when it comes to him.
When you’d first met the scarred kid trying and failing to live off the streets, you knew he wasn’t cut out for this. He’d known pain before, plenty of pain (icy-blue fire roasting the skin off his face—spiral fracture from callused hands twisting his arm behind his back—cold, aching muscles after what he thinks is the fifth hour spent locked in a closet), but he’d never known hunger. Hunger was a different kind of beast, one that would chew the kid up and spit him out and leave him broken if you didn’t take him under your wing, so you did.
It wasn’t like you had much of anything to spare, but you made it work. For a few years. He didn’t talk at first, but he took what you gave him, so you gave him what you could: food, if you had it; a place to sleep at night; the knowledge you’d gathered in your own years as a runaway on how he was supposed to survive in a world that didn’t care whether he lived or rotted away in a gutter. You cared.
Until you didn’t.
‘Going to be traveling alone for a while. Don’t wait for me. I’m sorry,’ your note had read. You left it in his backpack along with $43 in cash—not much, but he knew it was more than you could afford. It was all you had.
And now you have all of this! Don’t you feel lucky? You have the rich husband who barely looks at you, the big house with so many empty unused rooms it makes him sick, more food than you could possibly eat in one lifetime. All of that, and you also have Dabi’s semen leaking out of your cunt. It’s a real rags-to-riches story, he thinks.
Dabi picks a cigarette out of his jacket and you stop fixing up the buttons on your dress to ask him not to light it inside. How will you explain the smell to your husband? Every move you make, every syllable that comes out of your mouth, is weighed down by despair. You look like you’ve been beaten.
He lights the cigarette anyway.
Before he had you the first time, Dabi thought once would be enough. Pretty naive, huh?
He makes it his mission to fuck you in every room of your husband’s gluttonously enormous mansion (what with your history Dabi has a hard time thinking of the house as yours, and considering the way you tiptoe around and seem like you’re afraid to move so much as a vase, he suspects you feel the same). There’s a lot of rooms.
When he shows up at your door again you don’t even bother to hear him out, instead just trying to shut it on him, but he forces his way in. You wouldn’t want to make him mad, would you? Not when he’s got such a filthy secret hanging over your head? Will your husband keep paying for your designer shopping trips when he knows you’re a street rat who used to steal everything she wore? Will he still kiss you goodnight when Dabi tells him you used to wrap those pretty lips around strangers’ cocks for money?
If you want Dabi to keep quiet, you’re going to have to convince him the best way you know how. A cockwhore is a cockwhore. That’s not the kind of stain you get to wipe away with time and distance and expensive clothing.
In the kitchen: standing up, your back to his front and your hands barely holding you up on the counter, so hard and rough and deep that the dishes are rattling in the pantry. One of your teacups falls out of the glass china cabinet and shatters into a million fragments in a four foot radius over the tiled floor. Neither of you notice until after. Blunt red lines press themselves into the tops of your thighs where he’s shoving your body into the edge of the counter and there are bruises on your tits from how hard he’s groping you.
In the dining room: sitting on the edge of the table, one of your legs hiked up beside you and the other on a chair while Dabi kneels on the ground in front of you, his head between your thighs and his tongue flicking over your pussy. You start off thinking that you’re going to have to sanitize the entire mahogany surface before you can eat off it again and then he licks his lips and sucks on your throbbing clit and you don’t really think about anything else after that.
In your husband’s study: doggy-style on the floor in front of the fireplace, facedown, his body folded over yours, pressing you so deep into the tacky lion-skin rug that you can taste it. He sighs in your ear—actually, you’re not sure if it’s a sigh or a growl—and his hand comes up to cover yours. You feel the metal stitches and the rough burned skin scraping on your own and it reminds you that it’s him. It’s Dabi.
(A few days after his 13th birthday, the Dabi you used to know told you that he was going to dye his hair—he wanted to be unrecognizable, and you understood, so you found some old scissors and stole hair dye from the pharmacy and you spent three long hours chopping his hair into rough spikes and painting it black. When you washed the dye out of his hair in the sink, your hands were stained inky black too. When he saw, he looked worried and weaved his fingers in with yours and asked if the dye would hurt your skin if it stayed on too long.
And you looked back at this kid—small for his age then, burned by his own quirk, trying so hard to look older and tougher than any 13-year-old should have to be, and you thought to yourself, I would die for you.)
Now you hear Dabi growling out your name and squeezing your hand as he reaches his climax and you think, I would kill you if I could.
Dabi saves the master bedroom for last.
Your husband is hosting a party at your house. Dabi knows because you begged him not to come today, looking up at him with those doe-like eyes, offering things you never would have offered if it weren’t important to you that he stay away on this particular evening. But he still comes to crash it. He arrives just minutes before your husband does, and you have barely enough time to tuck him away on the dark bedroom balcony and pull the curtains closed before your husband is opening the door and greeting you.
Dabi settles himself into one of the tasteful Adirondack chairs on the balcony and listens to your voice, or at least what he can hear of it through the sliding glass door. You’re sweeter with your husband than you are with Dabi, and he should’ve known you’d be, but it still makes him hate your husband more than he already did.
On the other hand, there’s something strained and high and nervous in the way you’re speaking. Probably because your husband is standing about twenty feet away from the man you’re cheating on him with.
It takes a while for the two of you to dress for the party, but finally Dabi hears you tell your husband that you’d like to take a little longer to get ready and bid him goodbye. “Love you,” you say to the old man as he leaves the room, so casually Dabi might not have heard it if he wasn’t listening.
Then you’re opening the door and ushering him inside and telling him anxiously that he has to get out before anyone sees him. But, oh, you look nice like this, dolled up in your evening gown and makeup and diamonds, trying to pull him to the door even though you must know by now that he’s not going to leave it there. Instead of following, he backs you up onto the bed and peels down the straps of your dress and slides his hands up under the skirt, and all the while he can’t stop thinking about what you said to your husband.
You used to say that to Dabi.
The first time it was an accident—you’d mentioned it off-hand during a night when it was snowing and his unnaturally high body temperature was the only thing keeping the two of you alive. “God, I love you,” you’d said, draping your arm around his shoulders and pulling him in close to share his heat.
It had stunned him and you could probably tell. Maybe the next few times were just you taking pity on a kid who had never been told so casually and so simply that he was loved. But eventually you meant it, the little love you’s before you went to sleep or when one of you went off to do something alone for a few days—a familial love borne of mutual reliance. For the years Dabi was a runaway with you, you were the only person he could trust, and he knows the feeling was mutual.
Now he wants you to tell him you love him again.
It would be hot, wouldn’t it? You telling Dabi you love him while he forces you into a mating press on the bed you share with your husband. Isn’t that hot? You’re never going to be able to sleep on these sheets again without remembering his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth, his cock filling you in ways you haven’t been filled since you were 19.
How are you gonna lay next to your husband in this sad cold bed? ‘Cause that old fuck isn’t touching you, Dabi knows that much—if he was, he’d’ve noticed by now that you’re always covered in bite marks and hickeys that he didn’t give you. How are you gonna sleep at night knowing what a nasty slut you are, telling another man you love him?
So say it. Say you love him.
Oh, you’re going to be like that, aren’t you? What did he tell you about being a fucking brat when he’s talking to you? See if you’re still so defiant when he’s got his hand stroking the length of that pretty throat and then sealing down on it, squeezing gently on the veins running up the sides of your neck, not too hard, but enough that you’re probably getting a little dizzy while he continues to fuck into you. Does it hurt? Your face is turning pink. Uh-uh-uh, don’t try to pull his hand off, or he’ll show you just how good he is with his quirk these days.
You’re trying to choke out the words but you can’t quite make them make sense. There’s something endearing about the way your whimpers vibrate through the skin of Dabi’s palm, how he can hear you as well as feeling you. Oh—could you say his name too? He knows you’re feeling all fucked-out and wet and sloppy, every moan rising and falling in time with his cock stretching your pussy open, but can’t you give it a little more effort? He’s sure you can get his name out if you really try.
And if you’re not going to cooperate, Dabi may as well just dig the heel of his knuckle into your windpipe, because you really do tighten up so deliciously when you cough and sputter like that. Fuck, if you keep doing that, he’s going to cum, gonna cum right here in your syrupy pussy and spill it all over your marriage bed—but no, he wants to hear you say it first, so when you’re gagging and turning red and your eyes are watering he finally stops choking you, loosening his grip just enough that his hand is resting on your neck in a lover’s touch. It takes you a second and your voice is so hoarse he can barely hear it, but then you’re speaking and something jumps in his chest—
“I…I love—love y-you, Touya!” you sob. “I love you! I—love you, Touya—Touya—Touya—!”
And ah fuck it’s almost exactly right, your voice saying you love him, saying his real name, a name he hasn’t heard for years because you’re the only one who really knows it anymore—but you’re crying, real heavy sobs while you gulp in frantic lungfuls of oxygen. Your ribcage is heaving underneath him and—god, fuck—your guts are clenching, sucking down on every inch of his cock, every vein—
—oh shit fuck fuck he’s cumming, and he presses his face into your neck, into your hair, kissing you and thinking I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you—
—please stay, forever.
When he’s done, he goes for another round just to make sure you’re going to have cum dripping down your thighs when you go back to the party. No panties, unless you want him to walk through the grand foyer with all the other guests on his way out.
You don’t look at him as you fix your dress and your hair and wipe at your smeared makeup. With your eyeliner rubbed down to the bottom of your eyes, Dabi’s reminded a little of how you used to look—and the reminder is doubled when you slide your legs across the side of the bed and limp over to your vanity, walking hesitantly, your hips rocking from side to side. Damn, did he fuck you that hard?
Reminds him of the old days, you shuffling back to the hideout with that same awkward pain in your gait, purple marks around your neck, and a dim smile decorating your face—for his sake. Oh, and cash in your pockets. You’d tell him that the two of you were going out to eat that night and refuse to let him look at the injuries. God, it made him angry, it still makes him angry just thinking about it—angry at the men who bought you for treating you like that, angry at you for letting them. Angry at himself for not being old enough or strong enough or rich enough to stop them.
Anger, yes…and other things too. There had been a sick, insidious part of him that wanted to be in their position. He’d hated himself for it back then, until you left and the desire to punish you for abandoning him got twisted up with the desire to own you and keep you his. Maybe if he let himself think about it, he’d still hate himself for what he’s doing to you.
By now, you’re too good at covering up the bruises. A sweep of foundation and powder passes over each hickey he left on your throat and it’s like he never touched you. You have to push him off the bed so you can strip the sheets and replace them. When you’re done, you tell him to wait a few minutes after you leave to sneak out the back and he makes another half-joke about joining the party and introducing himself to your old man—
—and you shove him up against the wall with all the strength left in you, wrap your hand around his neck, and dig your fingernails under the line of piercings in his cheek. If he even looks at your husband, if he even thinks about it, you’ll rip his goddamn face open, you tell him in a low snarl.
It’s an empty threat (you and he both know who would win in a physical altercation) but there’s real hatred behind it. Dabi hasn’t seen that kind of fire in your eyes since he found out you became a trophy wife. It makes him want to have you again so he does, pulling your arms away from his face, standing and holding you up against the door to your bedroom, forcing you to wrap your arms around his neck and cling to him to keep from falling.
He’s lubed up by his own cum, and the wet squelching of your pussy just reminds him what a mess you’re going to be when you return to high society tonight. Maybe your husband will be able to smell it on you—the cum, the sex, the other man who’s been keeping his darling wife warm while he’s at work.
Well, probably not. If that stupid fucking cuckold hasn’t figured it out by now, there’s not much of a chance he’ll get it on his own. As Dabi sinks into your tight, gummy cunt again, he decides that he might just have to help the process along. A man deserves to know if his wife is being unfaithful, right?
Your husband’s office phone number is written on a post-it note that’s tacked to the desk of his study. It takes Dabi 40 minutes and $30 to buy a burner cell phone, leave a message on the man’s voicemail, and toss the burner in the kitchen trash at your house while you’re in the shower.
The message is short and straightforward. Dabi introduces himself as ‘the man who’s sleeping with your wife’, describes the floor plan of your husband’s house and what position he fucked you in for each room, and finally finishes it off with the evidence—the precise size and location of every hickey he’s left on your body that will still be visible by the time your husband returns from work.
Dabi almost wishes your husband had picked up the call—he’d’ve had a good time explaining in pornographic detail the way your tits look under those too-formal dresses, the way you moan when you cum in his mouth, the way you told him you loved him while he choked you out—with your husband in the house, no less. But this is fine too.
Besides, it’ll be so fucking funny if someone else at your husband’s company hears the message before he does.
Whore. Your husband called you a whore.
You’ve been called a whore a lot, actually. More than most people. You should be used to it by now. But it’s different when your husband says it. Your husband, the man who rescued you from a life of poverty and starvation, the man who has given you everything you own, the man who slid a ring onto your finger under a wedding arch and promised to love you in good times and in bad. The man you’ve almost convinced yourself you love back.
He called you a whore and slapped you when you tried to explain yourself and shoved you out the door and locked it. You can still hear his voice telling you the only place he wants to see your face again is in a casket.
So that’s why when Dabi comes to collect you, you’re hugging your knees to your chest on your front porch in your shiny lace-edged slip nightdress, hair in a mess around your head and your lip bleeding onto your chin. Your feet are so cold—your husband didn’t even give you time to put shoes on before he threw you out.
The night is cool and dark but the porch light buzzes on for half a minute when Dabi climbs up the steps to come crouch next to you on the doorstep. You try not to look at him, but he tilts your face toward his, electric-blue eyes skimming over the red mark and blue-black discoloration blossoming across your cheekbone; the blood drying on your split lip.
Dabi asks calmly if your husband hit you, and you nod.
Good, he tells you, and his body lights up blue in a roiling cloud of flames. He’s been waiting for an excuse to kill that old fuck.
The fire is like lightning, bright and ghostly in the darkness. The crackling of the flame eats away at the heavy silence of the night and you crawl back from the dry heat of it, sure you can feel your eyebrows singeing from being near. Dabi looks different backed by the inferno—bigger, crueler. Frightening. He reaches at the door but you shout at him to stop.
Why? Don’t you think he should suffer, after what he did to you?
But your fists clench by your sides and you set your teeth and you tell Dabi that if he’s going to kill your husband, he may as well set himself on fire too, because it’s his fault in the first place. And he’s done a lot worse to you than one slap.
Dabi waits a moment, searching your alarmed expression for something, but whatever he’s hoping for you don’t give him and the flames go out. The air smells like smoke and his hands are hot—not burning, but uncomfortably hot—when he kneels in front of you and rubs a thumb over your bruised cheek.
“(Y/N)—” Dabi starts, and then he can’t find a way to finish. So he just gathers you up in his arms and carries you bridal-style down into the lawn and to the driveway, where he’s got a car waiting to take you guys back to his place. You don’t resist, which surprises him again. He thought you’d push away at him, scream, get angry—he thought he’d have to convince you. Or force you, like he usually does. But you just let him deposit you in the seat next to the driver’s.
Before he gets in, he asks you if you need anything from your house. He can go get it for you. See if any balding motherfucker in his forties can stop him. But you just shake your head.
“There’s nothing,” you say blankly. “I have nothing. I…have nothing.”
Just like back then.
“Not nothing,” Dabi tells you, turning forward to the road so you can’t see the look on his face. “You have me.”
In the end, he does understand. He understood it the second he held that goodbye note in his hands and knew you were lost to him.
You were 17 when you met him and 19 when you left—hardly older than a child yourself. You barely had enough to provide for your own needs, much less a teenage boy’s. By the time you left, Dabi was more than capable of surviving on his own and already falling into ugly crowds, gangs and syndicates who saw money in his quirk, people you’d sacrificed a lot to keep him away from. He no longer needed you, and it was time for you two to go your separate ways. Dabi understands that.
But now you need him. Just like you needed him when you were fucking strangers for food money; like you needed him when you ran away; like you needed him when you got trapped in this mundane, sparkling-clean life, a life that was never going to fit you. Only this time—this time, Dabi’s old enough for you. He’s not a kid anymore, he’s a man. He’s got an apartment and a good job (well, kind of) and he’s got money. He can provide for you the way you’ve always needed him to.
Dabi’s going to take care of you, and you’re never, ever going to leave.
5K notes · View notes
cathey-winchester-666 · 9 days ago
Reader's relationship with Mitsuya
Summary: Continuation of Medic!Reader but this time, headcanons for the god of husbands made flesh.
Relationship: mostly platonic fem!reader x mitsuya, with a side of shipping and romance
Warnings: the usual swearing & violence
Other Links: (Original Post) (Mikey) (Draken) (Baji) (Emma & Hina)
Okay, first of all
this man doesn't go around picking random fights
when he does get injured, it's because a big brawl has happened and peace wasn't an option
He rarely does get injured, bc he's so strong,
when he does get injured,
you're always there to patch him up
and he loves it
At first it strikes him as a rather foreign but incredibly comfortable and warming kind of feeling
sOmEoNe PaTChiNg HIM uP?
WHat A sTrAnGE tHoUGht????
He's just so not used to someone looking out for and taking care of him, so at first he tries to refuse but, being the stubborn individual that you are, you keep coming over and insisting until he finally gives in and, once he gets used to it, he just
melts into your touch
Because, for once, someone's taking care of him without expecting anything in return or paying a debt
Someone's giving him the much needed attention that he deserves
You don't have any reason to do it, other than that he needs help, and that's giving him really fuzzy feelings on the inside
At the start, y'all weren't even friends, you were just some stranger on the street who meet them after a brawl and decided to help them out - you literally have 0 reason to want to care for him and yet, here you are, offering to look after him
And as much as he tries to deny it
Our main man is still a teenager
And physical affection from a girl his age??
Um, yes please?????
And then you meet his sisters for the first time and
i n s t a n t a t t a t c h m e n t
They straight up adore you
So you're their big sister now
And they totally ship you with Mitsuya
All that aside, can you imagine taking care of them
Like, Mitsuya has had a rough night during a brawl
He's all beaten and tired
He still has three bento boxes to make for school tomorrow
you insist on going home with him
and you force him onto the couch whilst you go make the lunches
He's very much against it at first because he doesn't want to inconvenience you
But the soft comfort of the lounge is just too damn welcoming
and before he knows it, he's passed out on the lounge
Once you've finished and you come in to check on him
You tuck him in with a blanket and giggle at the way his face snuggles into the warm texture
*soft housewife vibes intensify*
So you end up swinging by quite a lot and become close with his two sisters
by the way,
are simply too adorable
kind of like their brother
You’d be playing games with them
they would randomly invite you over
when Mitsuya sees you he looks at you and releases an exhausted sigh and is like;
“They wanna know if you’ll come over for a play date”
and obv you accept
And whenever y’all are having a sleepover (which they insist upon) they kick Mitsuya out bcs
“bOyS HaVe cOOtiEs.”
this just did turn into a reader + Luna & Mana
This boy looks after you like a brother
Always watching out for you during fights
Calls you up after school to ask you how your day has been
Will do homework with you, either meeting up in the library or doing it over face time
Loves to make new clothes for you
And you’re always trying them out
And you sometimes get some say in what he does for the next fit
You 100% get to keep the stuff he makes
100% going around to all your friends like
“Yeah so this absolute badass of a friend made this for me don’t I just look so sexy.“
Accidently ends up attracting a bunch of your friends who also want to get their clothes done
don’t know if they do that in Japan but still…
And he would make it doctor/medical theme vibes, like, the dress comes with a white coat that kind of reminds you of a doctor's coat
idk, i'm too braindead to come up with any good ideas at the moment, but you get the gist of it
You’re great for business before his business even starts lmfao
Would totally teach you how to sow
But because you’re a medic, you’re already super good with the needle
In return, you teach him how to use a medical needle, which really fascinates him
As soon as he showed any interest: cue the six and a half hour long rant about medical shit
Long story short, you guys spend so much time together and create such an incredible bond that’s so different to the chaos of your other friendships
85 notes · View notes
zackcrazyvalentine · 8 months ago
Chenya x pregnant reader headcanons please im love that cat can you also made neige too please
OMG THIS HITS A VERY SPECIFIC SPOT IN MY MEMORIES Used to be an avid reader of “Who's your baby daddy?!” fics & headcanons back in the day, lol   Time to put that knowledge(? in practice!
Here you go!  ^ ^)/
[Characters are aged up. We’ll be responsible here: the boys & reader made family planning beforehand, after few years of being together. Teenage pregnancy is a serious topic. Please, practice safe sex. Use physical protection methods, that way you can prevent unplanned pregnancies and STIs]
-- -- --
💗💜 Alchemi Alchemivich Pinka (Che’nya) 😸💫
“A tiny little kitten, is that what I hear~? Oh, Frabjous day! Callooh, callay!” Che’nya exclaimed, arms wrapping around his love in pure joy.
He noticed a change in his partner rather quick. Being non-human, his senses are sharper, he noticed a change in their scent
Then the morning sickness. He will hurry to their side after they’re done heaving at the toilet
The catboy will try to bring a smile to their face with his strange sentences and riddle talk (and that wide toothy grin), but will also have his arms around them, hand rubbing circles on their back while the other one went up to wipe the stray tears from the effort made to get everything in their stomach out
No matter how lightheartedly his partner wants to take things, Che’nya will coax them sooner than later to visit the hospital for a quick checkup and exams
As soon as the news reach him, he’ll do a silly dance out of pure joy! (ever watched Burton’s rendition of Alice in Wonderland? Mad Hatter doing his dance after Jabberwocky is defeated? Yup, that’s Che’nya right then and there… minus the spinning head… or maybe, idk, everything’s possible with ~magic~)
They better get ready to have a super cuddly and affectionate cat wrapped around them all the time
Yes, this also means he will keep an eye out to supervise the majority of their movements around the house to make sure they are unharmed and out of danger (but tbh catboy is way mellower in the overprotective department than others)
Cannot, seriously CANNOT, stop talking to the baby bump
Loves to come close to his partner's abdomen and retell the stories of The Queen of Hearts’ country his grandparents told him as a child
Please, this man needs impulse control when decorating the nursery. Many colors will be selected, their beloved better be ready to narrow down the selection (and convince him to tone the brightness down to softer colors)
Oh, but do let him go wild with the plush and blanket selection! He will also choose some fun and wacky clothes for the bab
It will mostly be smiles and laughter with him
Although his antics may sometimes clash with his flower’s mood swings, he knows when to give them space to calm down and when to hold them close, not letting go until everything gets worked out
You KNOW he wants to name the kid an equally as confusing name as his
Absolutely shows off his one and only to Riddle and Trey “So~ a curious question is the one I’ll make… When exactly will my kitten get playdate friends?” “Che’nya, you can’t just ask them that out of nowhere! Let them have a family at their own time.”
Riddle is very reliable and very early on gets set as the first contact option when emergencies arrive. Patience be with him when they call crying about how ducklings are so cute and don’t deserve to be prey for predators
Trey will definitely be a good babysitter, man’s already researching recipes for tasty treats and crackers to help with the baby’s teething
This catman is excited to meet his kid. The baby’s birth will be one of the few times he’ll cry
🎶 Neige LeBlanche 🍎
“Oh, a bun in the oven?!” Tears filled his eyes, but the smile brightened his entire person. “My love, this is wonderful!” That’s when Neige began crying.
HIM!! *points at the man* He’s definitely one of those who get mood swings along with their pregnant partner. This can sometimes lead to rough patches in the first months of pregnancy, but Neige is very perseverant and willing to learn
It takes some time, but eventually, he learns to control his emotions enough to comfort them through whatever mood you’re in
Only once the morning sickness increases in frequency will he drag his partner to the hospital. Like, once? Okay, understandable, upset stomach. Twice? Maybe it’s an illness… Here, drink this homemade remedy. But a third time? Yup, definitely something bad’s happening, straight to the dorctor’s!
He’s OVER THE MOON with the news! Already picturing the future life they will have together as a family
He respects his love’s privacy, that’s why he keeps the relationship as lowkey as possible to the public eye… But word soon gets out of the upcoming baby Boy, they won’t need to have a babyshower to ask for baby supplies, his fans got that covered
Neige takes on knitting, crocheting, plush making, pretty much anything that allows him to make clothes, plushies and blankets for his future child. The smile as he works is so tender, fills his partner's heart full of love and happiness
Whenever he has a shooting going on and they can’t come with, any one of the dwarves will be by their side in LeBlanche’s absence Hop is particularly fun to be with, he sings many lullabies to the bump and teaches them to the expecting parent Timmy and Toby are nice, too, they tell the baby many fun stories about brave knights and cunning princesses Grant turns into the most softhearted little thing once they’re asleep and he has the bump all to himself to dote on, baby talk to the max
It once happened that an emergency occurred at midnight and, as panic took over Neige, he dialed Vil. The actor had no option but to lend as much help as he could to the fretting parents
Their home will be decorated with so many flowers, due to Neige’s fans and his animal friend bringing wildflowers and seeds as gifts 
Cravings for strange things at weird hours? No need to worry! LeBlanche is more than happy to cook and bake whatever his beloved desires
Sensible and attentive, a family constructed with the brunet is filled with love and encouragement to follow their dreams and goals
Ah~, why is imagining family life with fictional characters such a serotonin booster? It is to me, at least~
Anyways, hope you enjoyed these headcanons! Che’nya was particularly interesting to analyze and write Hope this made your cat loving heart happy! :D
[ASDFGHRMJIF sorry for making such a statement at beginning in the brackets, but still, I mean it]
303 notes · View notes
bittersweetmorality · 8 months ago
heyyyyyy uhhhhh could i get like a sub hawks fic pretty please 🙏
literally kisses u . thank u . i have been waiting for a req like this thank u bae <3333 i have been very h word for hawks </3 thank u for letting me be self indulgent
it is a little rushed towards the end i am so sorry pls forgive me anon </3
Tumblr media
shift in dynamic (sub!hawks x fem!bodied reader)
Tumblr media
☾ genre: smut, 18+
☾ pairing: hawks x fem!bodied reader (no pronouns explicitly specified, but hawks calls reader “mommy”)
☾ warnings: *INHAAALE* PWP, sub!hawks (obviously), oral (f!receiving), dirty talk (m!receiving), praise..... so much praise, edging, PEGHAWKS2021‼️ (pegging), slight overstim????, a leetol bit of aftercare, kind of self indulgent idk i love he </3, (HARDLY EDITED)
☾ w/c: 3k !!
Tumblr media
you don’t know how long you’ve been teasing him, been letting yourself get into innocent but compromising positions with him.
bending over to pick up a “dropped” pen in that skirt he oh so loved to see you in, going to “change” only to come back out with your outfit being no different whatsoever except with the new addition of his favorite thigh-highs of yours.
he was so sick of your teasing, and honestly? you lost track of time from how long you had it going on.
“angel... you’re hardly being subtle, you know~” he mused from his position on the bed.
you turn and smirk at him from the doorway, “who said i was trying to be subtle in the slightest?”
you slowly began making your way to him, watching closely at the way he drank in your figure. his eyes darted back and forth from your thigh-high clad legs, to the exposed section just under your skirt, to your breasts that were straining against the provocative, tight shirt you decided to wear this evening.
you wanted to give him everything he ever dreamed of right now, to utterly indulge him-- make him believe he would be in control.
letting him sit up for you to straddle his lap, letting him dominate your kisses. anything he initiated, you complied with. his hands began softly grazing your exposed thighs, trailing upwards-- higher and higher-- you purposely let out soft whimper.
you felt a smirk tug at the corners of his lips, “hm...? you like that, angel?” you felt his hot breath in your mouth.
“yes... oh yes... please kei...” your pleas a mere whisper, “please fuck me...”
he groaned deeply in response, diving back in to taste your lips again— a hungry clash of teeth and tongue from his impatience. you could feel his arousal despite the confines of his clothes already, him grinding against your hips with no shame.
oh, you loved riling him up, especially like this. getting him to get all hot and bothered, going this far to give him a sense that he’ll be in control...
only for you to shatter your façade instantaneously, pushing him down by his shoulders and pinning his roaming hands above his head-- trapping his legs in between yours and looking down at him triumphantly.
“angel?” he sputtered, looking up at you with wide eyes, “w-what’s with the quick shift, huh?” he quickly attempted to play it off as if he still had a grip on his bearings.
a smirk splayed your features in response. you said nothing, but let your gaze flicker back and forth from his swollen lips to his dark eyes.
“w-weren’t you just begging me to fuck you a minute ago, hm?~” he said.
even when he was rendered completely immobile by you, of course he was going to give you his sly tone, his shit-eating grin as he “tried” to keep control of the situation.
oh, but you knew why he did that.
just ‘cause he knew that it would rile you up...
just ‘cause he knew that it would make you have your way with him.
“oh, i was begging you to fuck me? really...” you trailed off, moving your gaze downward, and cupping his bulge harshly with no warning. he hissed in response, sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth, “sweetheart... i assure you, i’m not going to be the one who’s begging tonight.”
“y-yeah right,” he chuckled, “like i’ll believe that. just give it a few minutes, darling. you’ll realize that-- a-ah...”
you cut him off by moving your palm against him, harshly rubbing against his growing erection with no build up. the friction of your hand mixed with the rough material of his jeans sent an immense amount of stimulation right off the bat, catching him completely off guard.
“hm? speak up honey, i can’t hear you,” you leaned down and softly nibbled his ear as you whisper against him.
“f-fuck...” his eyes are now screwed shut as he revels in the friction you’re providing him, your speed ever increasing to render him unable to utter a word.
“oh, well that’s not what you said before, now is it?” you began littering kisses on his jaw, his neck, collarbone... biting occasionally, because you knew just how much he wanted to be marked by you.
you continued to rub him, keigo’s moans getting louder and higher in pitch. he was close.
you giggled against him, the vibrations reverberating against his skin, “oh, you were also so sensitive, right kei? are you gonna cum?”
“y-yes...” he said, utterly breathless.
“do you wanna cum?”
he shook his head fervently.
“baby... use your words...” you gently remind.
“... no. please, not now...”
“mmm... good boy~”
his whines picked up at the pet name, his jean-clad hips beginning to grind against your palm.
you quickly ripped your hand away with a scoff, and keigo let out needy whine, the sound sending a shockwave straight to your cunt.
god, you’ve always loved his voice.
“ah-ah~” you tut, “didn’t you say you didn’t want to cum now, baby boy? do you really want to cum in your jeans like a teenage virgin?”
he shakily exhaled, “... n-no...”
“good. you’ll get what you want, i promise baby. just be patient, yeah?”
he nodded, looking up at you with tear-stained eyelashes. you took this opportunity to look him directly in the eyes while slowly lifting up your shirt to catch the hem between your teeth. he took a sharp inhale at the sight of exposed chest. you decided you would pass on wearing a bra this evening.
good choice.
“mm... kei...” you mumble breathily, snaking your arm down your torso, moving closer and closer to the hem of your panties.
“y-yes, angel?”
you shoot him a glance, taking your shirt out from between your teeth to be able to speak clearly.
“what was that?” your tone was sharp as you addressed him, leaning in close, “what’s my name?”
“there we go, baby boy... that’s right...” your hand trails its way down once again, and you making a show of throwing your head back and sighing as it makes its descent. you begin stroking the outside of your panties, feeling the wet patch that has already seeped through the lacy material.
"kei... baby... already so wet for you..." you sigh, "now enjoy the show, yeah? don't move, baby boy... unless you-- mmm~" you couldn't help but let out a moan, your finger flicking a particularly sensitive spot on your clit as it moved in tight circles on the bud, "unless you don't want your reward..."
you spread your legs out further in your straddling position, giving him a perfect view of your panty-clad cunt. his erection was definitely painfully hard, you thought. no-- it didn't even have to be up to your imagination. you felt his cock strain against your inner thigh, letting out a soft moan at the thought.
you moved your panties to the side to dip a single finger in, sighing at the new feeling and rocking your hips. you opened your eyes to see keigo's reaction to you fucking your fingers-- right on top of him. you could feel his heartbeat from where you were seating atop him as well as his erratic breathing.
slipping your finger in and out of your cunt with ease, you decide to add a second one, beginning to scissor them both to stretch yourself out.
keigo was doing exactly as told-- following directions. only enjoying the show instead of doing anything without permission.
"m-mommy..." he squeaked out.
"yes, baby boy?"
"please... sit on my face. please, i wanna make you feel good, mommy..." his pleas were fucking adorable.
"you want me to fuck your face, sweetheart?" you muse.
"y-yes... please... please..."
"only because you asked so nicely, baby... such a good boy~"
he moans as you shift your position to finally take off your panties and throw them aside unceremoniously. you place your thighs on either side of his head, trapping his head between them and immediately feeling his hot panting breath hit your core.
“keigo, honey... you know what to say if you want to stop, right?” you look into his eyes, patiently awaiting his answer before moving forward at all.
“yes... red.” his big hands squeezed the fat of your thighs, just below your ass as he replied.
“mm... good boy~” you sigh once again, finally sinking yourself down to meet his lips. immediately, his tongue poked out and lapped at the wetness already dripping out from your cunt. he moaned against you, the vibrations sending a wave of pleasure up your spine. god, it was almost like he was enjoyed having you sit on his face more than you.
you grabbed a fistful of his hair as your body fell forward from pleasure. you always knew he enjoyed having his hair tugged, but you held off on letting him have that pleasure at the moment. until he took your clit in his mouth and sucked, kneading your ass as he held you in place.
and high pitched moan was ripped from your throat, and your fingers tensing into a fist on reflex, pulling at keigo’s hair harshly. the whimper that escaped him was heavenly, his motions becoming more frantic, more needy as he ate you out. he wanted to please you.
he wanted to please you so, so bad.
you felt the coil in your stomach begin to build up, the tension making your mind hazy as the room filled with only your moans and the sounds of keigo’s sinful ministrations against your core. all of his movements now harsh, and a steady transition of his tongue lapping at your clit, and his lips sucking more and more as he knew you were close.
“f-fuck, kei... fuck... a-ah... i’m- i’m gonna cum...” you all but whisper, your voice failing you.
“cum, mommy. please. please cum for me...” he mumbled against you, giving one particularly harsh suck and before you could even process his words, you were thrown over the edge.
your vision went white as your orgasm washed over you in an impeding wave, keigo not giving you enough warning before making you cum with so much force.
“mommy?” his voice snapped you back to reality as you began to come down from your high, “are you okay? w-was i good?”
you shifted from your position to lie next to him on the mattress, looking into his eyes with nothing but pure sincerity as you replied, “baby... yes... oh my god, yes. you were so, so good...” you stroked his cheek warmly with the back of your hand, feeling your heart flutter when he leaned into your touch.
“now, i just have to return the favor now, hm? you were such a good boy for mommy, now it’s mommy’s turn to make you feel good,” you whisper in his ear, nipping at it once before unbuttoning his jeans and sliding them off with ease. you were impatient, and so was he.
“tell me what you want, baby. use your words,” you instructed, stroking his cock with one finger through his boxers.
he squeaked, quickly shying away at your instructions, clearly embarrassed at what he wanted to ask of you.
“sweetheart, look at me,” you held his cheeks with your free hand to direct his gaze back to you, “tell me, i want to make you feel good, yeah?”
he bit his bottom lip.
“...p-please fuck me,” he pleaded almost inaudibly. he doubt you even heard it, and like hell he would be able to muster enough courage to say it again.
thankfully, you heard it. loud and clear.
“you want mommy to fuck your ass, baby? is that what you want?”
“...yes, please...” his cheeks burned at your lewd words. he hadn’t expected you to say it so bluntly, but it was exactly what he wanted.
you leaned down to catch his lips in a passionate kiss, one hand holding the nape of his neck while the other held his waist to draw him as near to you as possible. you wanted the kiss to show him exact how much you loved him-- how you only wanted to make him happy.
“you know exactly how to ask. my good boy~”
you reached over into your nightstand drawer, pulling out purple strap-on and lube, fixing the harness around your waist, and pulling off his briefs completely. you lubed up your fingers, rubbing them against the digits from your other hand to warm it up. you positioned yourself in between his thighs, pulling them apart to give you easy access.
“you okay, kei?” you ask.
“yes, yes... i am...” he responded, looking up at you then to your fingers, his gaze clearly impatient.
you chuckled, bringing your index finger to circle his hole gently, lubing up everything as much as possible before pushing it in, little by little.
by no means was this keigo’s first time experiencing something like this with you, however, any experience that caused him discomfort or pain was lost. you made a constant, extra effort to make sure everything was perfect for him.
when your finger entered him completely, you slowly pumped it in and out, feeling him relax around you as you continued.
“feeling okay?”
“y-yes... you can... add another,” he said.
at his word, you added your middle finger, beginning to scissor them inside him to prep him for what was to come. his gasps slowly began to turn into breathy moans at the sensation, and when you curled your fingers upward to hit his prostate, he whimpered beneath you, hips bucking up to meet your fingers. you held him down with your free hand, making sure you still had complete control.
“third?” you ask.
you quickly comply, adding a third and following the routine you set for the previous digits. pumping in and out, curling them at that spot that always had him uncontrollably whining from pleasure.
you continue scissoring your fingers until you believed he was prepped enough, beginning to lube up the strap that’s been settled on your hips while looking for keigo’s approval once again, “are you ready, baby?”
he nods, a faint “yes...” passing from his lips.
slowly, you push in the silicone cock inside, inch-by-inch and watching his body language with a sharp gaze. he was doing so, so well you thought, the dildo going inside with ease.
“it’s in, baby... all the way... good?” you ask once again.
“good... so good...”
you smile, experimentally letting your hips draw back and slam back into his once. the way his voice cracked, his hands looked for leverage wherever they could find it to control the amount of stimulation he felt...
you swear you were getting drunk off of him.
you begin to set a slowly, languid pace, grinding your hips into his. he bit his bottom lip, “f-faster... please... i promise i can take it...”
you wordlessly comply, placing your hands on either side of his head to get a better angle, and began slamming your hips against him erratically. his desperate moans and whines quickly picking up pace and pitch, and you vaguely pick up mumblings of “so good...”, “oh my god...”, and “so close...”
he looks down at you with a hazy expression. his cock now swollen and leaking from penetrative stimulation, but it was clearly not enough. the way he crooned and leaned into your touch every time you pulled your hips away from him-- oh, you could tell it was just painful for him.
you lightly wrapped your fingers around his cock, your hand not moving, but your cock driving into him even faster-- just to see how he would react. he hissed at the contact, thrusting his hips to create his own stimulation. you didn’t stop him, seeing how close he could make himself to cumming just by fucking your fist. he was so loud, loud moans bouncing off the walls only to be broken by his voice cracking.
“you close, baby?” you coo.
“m-mhm... oh my god.... so close...” his hips picked up speed, the sound of skin slapping against skin almost as loud as his noises now.
“cum baby, you deserve it, yeah? such a good boy...” you pet his hair as you encouraged him, moving your hand and hips to meet his thrusts to make him tip over the edge faster, reveling in the way his eyes screwed shut and his knuckles turned white from gripping the sheets beneath him.
he came with a choked moan, shaking violently as you continued to pump him as felt heavy ropes of cum glide down your hand, his stomach...
you kissed the tip, open-mouthed and wet to make him twitch again under your touch.
“how are you feeling, kei?” you whisper, petting his soft hair as you patiently, carefully slipping out of him. you untie the harness around your waist, setting it on your side table once again and lying beside him.
you waited for his heaving chest to relax and his eyes to flutter open again.
“great... fucking amazing...” he smiled at you, his breath heavy as he panted between his words.
“let me get you cleaned up, yeah? you did so good for me...” you kissed his temple, letting your lips linger on his flushed skin for a bit longer. you pulled away after several seconds, looking deep into his eyes, “i love you, keigo,”
his palm rested on your cheek as he looked back at you, “i love you more,”
he said your name with nothing but love, admiration and pure joy.
you truly were the light of his life.
248 notes · View notes
starrys-night · 6 months ago
Peter Maximoff NSFW Alphabet
Tumblr media
A/N: Post by me (Carrie/Starry) on my main account on: I forgot to when, 2021. Reposted on this account: May 21st, 2021.
Characters: Peter Maximoff x Reader
Word Count: 1,992 
A = Aftercare (What They're Like After Sex)
Peter is all sweaty; sometimes, he might be out of breath, but only for a second cause he has a recovery easily cause super-speed. He cares more about your needs than his after sex since he recovers so quickly, so Peter will take a second to look you over. And if you're still shaking, he kinda begins to worry if he went too hard. But when you meet his lips, he knows you're okay. Peter then asks if you need anything like water, a washcloth, or for him to rub you down. And just tries to spoil you and tells you how much he loves you and how good you were for him.
B = Body Part (Their Body Of Theirs and Their Partner's that they like)
Peter never really cared for his body; he always thought he wasn't worth anyone's time because he only saw himself as a freak. But after he met you and you basically built up his self-esteem, he soon saw himself in a better light. Peter only really likes his arms because you love them.
Peter likes your face a lot. When he says you can't help but laugh cause, he sounds like a drunk teenage boy. But then he goes into great details as to why he likes your face. He tells you that your lips were made for him to kiss and suck on, plus it made for his cock to be held by. He tells you that your nose was made for him to boop and give a gentle kiss on. He tells you that your eyes are made of stardust and that he wants to get lost in them. He tells you that your hair was made for him to pull on and get lost in. Basically, he's too romantic, but then he gets nasty.
C = Cum (Anything to Do with Cum; basically I'm Nasty)
Peter is so fascinated with cum. Like he cares more about giving oral just cause he wants to be lost in your cum. He especially gets excited when you squirt. He totally makes a game out of your pussy just so he can drink up your cum.
D = Dirty Secret (Pretty Self Explanatory, A Dirty Secret of Theirs)
Peter wants to lose control during sex. But can't help but want too but the idea of hurting you makes him freak out, so of course, he refuses too. However, if you have a power that lets you regenerate quickly. Then, Peter is so fucking game for destroying your pussy. He might even say, "I won't stop until something pops or tears." And then you just laugh at him and tell him to fuck you until sunrise.
E = Experience (How Experience are They? Do They Know What They're Doing?)
He's had maybe had a few girlfriends/boyfriends back in the day. But they've never lasted long cause he can't help but feel like he's holding them back and that they deserve better. But when he finally meets you, another mutant. Well, Peter just can't help but feel like this is the first time. I would say Peter knows/learned pretty quickly what to do during sex. So, with you, it just comes (cums) naturally.
F = Favorite Positions (This Goes Without Saying)
He's into eye contact, but that doesn't stop him from trying to try every position you're up for—Peter's honestly game for anything.
G = Goofy (Are They More Serious In The Moment? Are They Humorous? Etc.)
He's a total nut during the moment. Maybe when you first have sex, he's all serious, but then it's just a game of seeing how many times he can make you cum while he's playing Pac-man, pong, and or Atari. Or he's just making you laugh the whole time.
H = Hair (How Well Groomed Are They? Does The Carpet Match The Drapes? Etc.)
I guess he's well-groomed. I mean, I saw that one gif of Evan Peters, and damn. He clean. Does anyone know if Quicksilver dyed his hair or not? Cause I just realized I don't know. Anyway, he's groomed and tries to keep everything clean and neat for you.
I = Intimacy (How Are They During the Moment? The Romantic Aspect)
Peter likes to remind you that he loves you during sex. So, he'll often ask if you feel comfortable or if you want to stop. He just wants you to feel good and know that he loves you.
J = Jack Off (Masturbation Headcanon)
Peter doesn't really get off by himself. He sees his hand as his former lover, but now he's found a new lover, and Peter loves your pussy way better than his hand. He just thinks it's not the same to do it alone now that he has you, 'cause you're so warm and soft. But if he's really worked up and you're busy/away/, he's away from you. Peter will get off with his hand. But the whole time, he's just thinking about you.
K = Kink (One or More of Their Kinks)
Cockwarming and Orgasm control is his mains.
He's a sucker for your pussy, and if you don't want to have sex cause you're busy reading a book or doing something else. You still want to be close to him. Peter is totally up for cockwarming. Though, he will want friction after a while, or else he'll get whiny.
He's a switch, okay. But even so. Peter loves having control over your orgasms. It's a part of that whole teasing thing he loves to do. So, of course, he's gonna try to be in control of your orgasms. But when you do the same thing, he fucking whines like a bitch.
L = Location (Favorite Places to Do the Deed)
Up against his Pac-Man machine. In a secluded hallway in the x-men mansion hallway. And in either of your beds. He likes having sex where you want to have sex, but he probably likes having sex in bed the most cause he gets more room to do all sorts of shit.
M = Motivation (What Gets them Turn on, What Gets Them Going)
Peter thinks that your mutation is so goddamn sexy. Whenever you use it, Peter can't help but stare at you in awe and then get hard. Basically, if you give him a look, he's like, "OKAY! WE'RE GONNA HAVE SEX NOW!"
N = No (Something They Wouldn't do, Turn Offs)
He wants to jackhammer you, but he's decided early on that he doesn't want to hurt you, so it's off the table. Other than that, everything up for grabs as long as it's within reason.
O = Oral (Preferences in Giving and Receiving, Skill, Etc.)
Peter's the definition of a dude. Esp in Wandavision. So, this bro is never down for getting oral. That does not mean he does not like giving oral. In fact, Peter considers loving giving it even more just because of how much he loves cum. He just wants to eat your wet pussy.
P = Pace (Are They Fast and Rough? Slow and Sensual? Etc.)
He may be called Quicksilver, which does not mean he is not a giver or one to waste time when it truly matters. That being said. Peter will go at whatever pace you crave. But when you give him the go-ahead of going fast, he's better known as Quick-cummer. (I am so sorry, lmao.)
Q = Quickies (Their Opinion on Quickie, How Often, Etc.)
Are Quickies real when your boyfriend can outrun all mutants? Idk. But it's like asking if a hot dog is a sandwich. Anyway, they happen quickly often, and so far, the two of you haven't been caught, thanks to Peter's quick thinking. (He accidentally locked you both in a supply closet once.)
R = Risk (Are They Game to Experiment? Do They Like Taking Risks? Etc.)
Peter is down to clown. If you want to spice up your sex life, he's totally up for anything you wanna try. If you want to be risky, Peter is already two steps ahead of you. Charlies often has been on the bad end of these accounts, however. Poor Professor X.
S = Stamina (How Many Rounds Can They Go For? How Long Do They Last?)
That goddamn super-speed. It's gonna be the death of you. Like the rounds don't ever seem to stop, and in a night, you can lose count so fucking quickly. But you know that after at least thirty to forty minutes, you can't help but beg for a time out just to get some water and then start again. If you have regeneration abilities, it's even longer.
T = Toys (Do They Own Any Toys? Do They Use Them? On A Partner or Themselves?)
Peter is a human vibrator. When you find that out, you basically throw away all your old toys. However, you do leave handcuffs, blindfolds, and butt-plugs around cause those are fun. I think Peter would be game if you bought him a riding whip. He might even tease you by calling himself your loyal steed.
U = Unfair (How Much Do They Like To Tease?)
Fuck yeah, he loves to tease. Like the teasing in your relationship isn't even sexual half the time cause you both love goofing around. But when it is sexual, it is fucking feral. Peter will tease you until the sun goes down. But if you start to get teary-eyed, he fucking quits and gives in like a goddamn simp. Peter does not, however, like to be teased. If you start teasing him, he fully becomes a fucking brat. But of course, you give in cause you're a sucker for those brown eyes and his whimpering pleas.
V = Volume (How Loud They Are, What Sounds They Make. Etc.)
Peter wants everyone to stay the fuck out of his room when y'all are having sex, so he's extra quiet. But when you finally get your own place/a door that is grantee to be locked, Peter is loud. He makes grunts, sighs. Peter praises you the whole time and never shuts up.
W = Wild Card (A Random Headcanon For The Character)
Peter wants to fuck you basically at every historical landmark that you love/admire. If you wanna fuck on the Eiffel Tower, he's down. And so on.
X = X-ray (Let's See What's Going Under Those Clothes)
He's average size, maybe an inch or two longer. But he's thick as fuck and doesn't realize how beautiful his cock is. He's got a cock that makes you want to drool over.
Y = Yearning (How High Is There Sex Drive?)
He might have the highest sex drive of any character I've written for just cause his body works so fast. Not to mention, Peter is touch-starved, so he's extra needy. So, he's kinda extra horny. But he'll be low-key about it cause he doesn't want to pressure you into having sex with him all the time. Not that he would. But it's more like he just doesn't want you to think that sex is all he wants from you.
Z = Zzz (How Quickly They Fall Asleep Afterwards)
Sleep? We don't know her. Okay. But sometimes Peter does get sleepy, especially if you've got him to cum a shit ton in a session. So, when this does happen, Peter just super cuddly and just makes you his teddy bear. You're all for it cause you're even more whipped out.
Wanna be added to my taglist? Pls fill out this form!
Peter Maximoff Taglist: @your-hispanichufflepuff​​ @elaineygrace​​ @cringingmemeries​​ @mercer-legacy​ @ksmy-99​​ @almosthumongousdonut​​ @lean-e​ @practicallylivesonline​​ @shortstackof-pancakes​​ @sunflowergirl522​​ @your-hispanichufflepuff​​​
Evan Peters Taglist: @awaywiththe​​ @richbitchsstuff @b3d0fr0s3s​​ @madison05x @samsassinparvismagna​​ @instabull​​ @spidergirlmcu​​ @peterskindacool​​ @gracey07​​ @blufanfictionthings​​ @the-countress​ @xmaximoffic​
153 notes · View notes
smallblip · 6 months ago
I love your smut fics so what would happen if after a lot of... you know having fun there are some unexpected consequences *you know what I mean*
Tumblr media
Thank you anon🥺💖I’m glad you like them! I freak out a little when I post them! Here are some HCs of accidental baby acquisition:
I’m a sucker for them being oblivious idiots and stumbling into a full blown relationship. So at the beginning perhaps they haven’t defined the terms of whatever’s going on between them. Sure they fool around, but they haven’t spoken about it being *exclusive*. (Levi decides he’s monogamous, can’t deal with too many strings, so it’s just Hanji. But he knows Hanji lives by her own terms).
And when Hanji thinks oh fuck I might actually be pregnant, she bursts into his room and just- “LEVI! I’m pregnant!” She’s serious so he knows it’s not a joke and his face is- well he’s mortified. But he also sits her down and there’s silence and he asks “is it... Well not that it matters but... Is it mine?” And Hanji tells him of course it’s his because she hasn’t, well, hasn’t been with anyone else since. And Levi gets on one knee and promises Hanji he’ll stick around, raise the baby with her if she doesn’t mind. And she’s like “get up fool! Of course I don’t mind! I have no idea how to keep things clean!”
They go see Erwin.
Erwin fucking chews both their heads off. Like proper “I’m disappointed in the both of you. You’re adults acting like a bunch of teenagers.” And Hanji shoots back with a “but you’re always telling us to let loose and live a little!” And Erwin, at this point very exasperated, just throws his hands in the air, “I told you two to go on dates and make out not to fucking conceive a goddamn child!”
But it’s mostly performative anger because the next day there’s a huge hamper by Hanji’s door. It’s a basket full of fruit, chocolates, whisky (for Levi), two handmade dolls (courtesy of Nanaba), a pistol from Mike “idk what babies need” Zacharius, and a book on military history (“it has some pictures”) from Erwin “when I was five I was reading on the history of the walls” Smith. Levi decided none of them (with the exception of Nanaba and Moblit) can come near his kid.
Levi goes into full anxious dad mode. Poor bb is very anxious. Because he’s had such a rough childhood and Kenny raised him like a mutt and killing titans is one thing but raising a child? But Hanji tells him everything is gonna be okay “hey... We’re gonna struggle, that’s for sure... It’s gonna be one heck of a ride... But we have each other!” And Levi is so afraid of hurting Hanji that he refrains from really touching her. Until one day she’s like “c’mere!!” Grabs his hand and places it on her belly. “See! It’s okay! Baby’s the size of a bean now...” and from then he just takes every opportunity to touch her belly.
Fucking TALKS TO HER BELLY when he thinks Hanji is asleep. “Hey... It’s uh... Me again... Your dad...”
Hanji really tests Levi because she’s always up and about and even late in her pregnancy she’s waddling around conducting experiments and he’s like for the love of god Hanji please. Until Erwin had enough of seeing her tote her belly around and just places her on compulsory leave because it’s giving him anxiety.
The kids catch on pretty quick. And it becomes a whole group activity to try and figure out who the dad is. Many bets were placed on Moblit, some on Erwin, some on a mysterious husband back home. Until they start realising Captain Levi shadowing Squad Leader Hanji, following her everywhere, he doesn’t let her lift a finger. And it hits them. No way. “Yes way...” Hanji says one day when she overhears their discussion. “You’re right, Jean! We went at it a little too carelessly and Levi knocked me up! Which reminds me...” and she just launches into a whole thing about safe sex what not.
Jean thinks it’s not worth it being right. He just. Never wants to have this conversation or hear the words “went at it” and “Levi” in the same sentence ever again.
Hanji’s late night pantry raid (accompanied by Levi with his eye bags ofc). They always stumble upon Sasha and the two of them make the most disgusting meals. Levi steps in to cook because frankly, he’s done watching them suck at it.
That’s all I have fur now💖💖💖 plugging my smut fic here in case anyone wants to read💖💖💖
136 notes · View notes
rebeccccccaaa · 9 months ago
ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀʙɪɴ
ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: (ANON) Would you please do a part 2 of the Wakanda Bucky imagine „down by the lake“ where he has his new arm ? ❤️ 
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: smut 18+ (rough sex? Idk man lmao)
ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇs: idk why but i don’t really like the way i wrote the smut idk but i was taking too long to write so you be the judge ig *sad face and cries* also i know his place in the movie is like a hut but i just made into a small cabin i didn’t think it was a big deal
Tumblr media
ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ
“Stop,” you smirked.
“What?” Bucky chuckled.
“You’re staring and it’s distracting.”
Bucky was in the lab with you as you put the finishing touches on his new arm. He had a chip, as freaky as that sounds, placed on the sensory cortex of the brain so that he can register feeling through the vibranium that you and Shuri co-created.
Bucky sat beside you waiting for the initial placement of his arm and just stared at you admiring the way your face scrunched adorably because you were insanely focused. It's been a few weeks since the day you first spent the night in Bucky’s arms; or arm really.
Since then especially he’s been so ridiculously cuddly and touchy. He’s always pulling you close to kiss you or whisper something not so appropriate in your ear that always made you giggle and roll your eyes; but not without turning hot and flushed.  
He always looked at you with nothing but pure adoration and desire and it gave you butterflies everytime. His lingering touches on your arm made your skin burst into chills and when you looked away you could still feel his eyes lingering on your figure and that sent shivers down your spine. 
“I can’t help it, you’re beautiful,” he said cheekily.
“Get a room, you two. Gross,” Shuri shouted across the room making you and Bucky laugh. 
“I think we’re finished,” you smiled.
“Really?” he asked excitedly.
“Shuri, come!”
In no time, you and Shuri successfully attached Bucky’s brand new arm, black vibranium with gold lining; it was very sleek and cool and Bucky looked at it in awe. He moved his fingers around and closed his hands into a fist. He looked at every detail his arm had and he was just in complete shock. 
“I can feel the breeze,” he whispered.
You smiled and grabbed his new metal hand and intertwined your fingers with them. His eyes widened and he squeezed your hand harder. His hand was cold against your but Bucky felt the warmth from just the palm of your hand. He couldn’t think about what the rest of your body would feel like.
He hugged you and Shuri tightly before turning to you with a giant smile on his face. 
“Meet in the cabin?” he whispered.
“Of course.”
Hours later and you found yourself heading down the hill to the lake where Bucky’s cabin was. The cabin that you two spent so many nights together already; and you wouldn’t want it any other way. He was in the water making small waves with his metal hand and you smiled. You were so proud of him and yourself for this project that’s the start of changing his life for the better.
“I can feel the water,” he said sensing your presence behind him. 
“I don’t think I need to ask if you like your new arm,” you giggled as did he.
“Come in, water’s warm.”
“I don’t have a swimsuit.”
“So?” he smirked.
You bit your lip and looked around knowing there wouldn’t anyone near but you still made sure. You took your shirt and pants off leaving you in your bra and panties and quickly ran to the lake before slipping in to let the warm water come to your waist. 
You wadded through the water coming up to Bucky who smiled and wrapped his arms around you pressing light kisses to your shoulder. Your hands came up, his arm passed his shoulders to his hair still long and wavy; those strands you loved to pull on when his head was settled between your thighs.
“Thank you, darling,” he whispered into your ear. 
“Of course, you deserve it,” you smiled at him.
“I think I have a promise that I need to uphold,” he nibbled on your ear seductively.
“Oh yeah? Care to refresh my mind?” you smirked.
“I’m gonna fucking ruin you so good, baby girl,” he growled before dragging you out of the lake by your hand. You two ran to the cabin giggling, once you stepped inside Bucky’s metal hand wrapped itself around your throat and pulled you close to him.
“I want you on the bed on your knees naked waiting for me. I’ll be right there,” he whispered making you grow wet in anticipation, your stomach fluttering at the tone of his words. 
You scurried away to his bedroom getting rid of the wet garments that stuck to your skin uncomfortably. Your body grew cold from being wet but the heat in your belly grew and the cold air around you didn’t matter anymore. You crawled to the center of the large bed and waited patiently for Bucky to walk through the door. You trembled with eagerness, excited and aroused for him to come and completely ruin you. 
“Ready, babygirl?”
You nodded shyly.
“Words,” he demanded.
“Yes, sir,” Bucky smirked devilishly at your obedience.
He was already shirtless and stalked towards you, crawling on the bed like an animal. You bit your lip nervously but Bucky pulled it from between your teeth and traced it with his metal thumb. He could feel the ridges of your lip and he could get over it. He knew what they felt like, he touched them a thousand times by now but he seemed hyper aware of everything he touched with his left hand. He hadn’t felt anything in that arm since nineteen forty-five. 
He leaned down and kissed you softly, taking you by surprise; you were ready to get railed into the mattress but Bucky was kissing you like a shy teenage boy again.
Needily, you dipped your fingers in the waistband of his wet pants he still had on but Bucky didn’t want you in control. Weeks ago he made a promise and boy was going to keep it. He wrapped his hand around your throat again harder this time and moved you away from him; you stared with wide eyes, your breathing quickened.
“Did I give you permission to touch me?” he whispered.
You shook your head as best you could given his hand around your throat. When you did so he gave that look warning you to use your words.
“No, sir,” you whimpered.
“Good girl,” he moved back looking into your eyes as he took his pants off. You wanted to touch yourself so bad but you didn’t dare without his permission. You felt flustered and hot and the arousal dripping from you wasn’t helping. 
“Come here,” Bucky stood at the edge of the bed with his erect cock in hand, slowly pumping it. You excitedly crawled forward replacing his hand with yours. You leaned forward arching your back and wrapped your lips around his cock. 
Bucky rubbed your back softly biting his lips as you circled your tongue around his tip. Your hand continued to pump what couldn’t fit in your mouth because lord knows Bucky packs a lot. Tears brimmed your eyes as you suck on his dick. 
Bucky tossed your hair and gathered it into his hand into a ponytail. You looked up at him through your lashes and Bucy almost came from the sight alone. Your hand wrapped around the base of his cock and played with his balls before pumping up and down what your mouth couldn’t take. 
“Fuck, baby. Sucking my cock like a fucking slut.” 
All you could do was simply moan around his cock. You moved your hand faster desperate to make him cum but Bucky pulled you hard by your hair pulling you off his cock.
“I wanna cum inside you babygirl,” he breathed out. 
“Turn around,” he said with a stern voice; you giggled and turned around compliantly, subtly wiggling your ass to tease him. 
Bucky rubbed his hands on your cheeks softly before bringing a hand up and striking it down to smack your ass hard. You yelped in surprise but the pain turned to pleasure and the tingles made you wetter. You bit your lip and your breathing quickened as you anticipated more spanks. 
“You liked that, didn’t you. Such a fucking whore; like getting spanked like a bad girl,” Bucky growled. 
“I’m your bad girl,” you smirked.
“Really? Does someone need to be punished?” he smiled playing into your little charade. 
“M-hm,” you practically moaned.
Bucky smack your cheek again leaving a bright red mark on your soft skin. He pumped himself a couple times just spreading his pre-cum round his shaft, not that he needed the extra lubrication; you were practically dripping down your thighs, legs damn near shaking with need and desperation.
“Gonna fuck you so good, baby,” he leaned down to whisper.
Your body trembled under him and upon feeling the tip of his cock nudge your entrance you squirmed around desperate for more. He chuckled lowly standing back up before sliding slowly passed your slick folds. 
You groaned at the incredible feeling of him completely filling you up. Never in your life have you ever felt so full, so right. His hips started moving faster and your arms gave out as you fell forward. Bucky’s hand rubbed up your back grabbing your hair one again.
He pulled it harshly and brought your body up flush against his. His lips brushed your ear as he spoke smoothly, whispering filthy things in your ear bringing you closer to your release. His metal hand came up to your throat and squeezed ever so slightly. Your eyes rolled back and Bucky chuckled wickedly. 
“Fuck, you feel so- ugh! So good,” you wailed.
“You gonna come? I can feel ya clenching around me; feel fucking incredible,” he moaned.
“Yes, please let me come; fuck!”
“Wait for me, baby. Don’t you dare come until I say so.”
Bucky pushed you down once again and his hips snapped into you even harder if that was possible and your entire upper body fell into the sheets. Your moans and whimpers were muffled and you gripped the sheets, your knuckles turning white.
He smacked your ass again rubbing your reddened skin softly. The slight stinging felt so good and you wiggled your hips in hopes he would do it again. When he did so, your body jerked in pleasure moaning loudly. You felt impossibly close to your release and you didn’t know if you’d hold on any longer.
“Bucky!” you whined.
“Please I need to come, fuck! I can’t hold it anymore!”
“Come on; let go, darling. Come all over my cock, make a mess baby,” he grumbled.
His hips stuttered signaling he was quite close to his high as were you. Your moans became high pitched and whiny and with pure adrenaline you lifted your torso up with your arms peeking behind you to find Buck panting hard. His head was thrown back and his eyes were screwed shut. Sweat lined his forehead and chest leaving him with a glowy sheen that made him look ethereal. 
You dropped your head down with tightly shut eyes just like Buck’s were and finally you felt that coil in the pit of your stomach snap. You came hard against him rutting your hips back making his cock reach impossibly deep inside you. Your back arched and your toes curled. Bucky grunted loudly above you squeezing the flesh of your cheeks in his hand surely to leave marks and bruises littered for you to marvel tomorrow morning. 
Bucky fell forward and littered faint kisses across your back and neck. You panted hard under him and Bucky soon got up to clean you off. Your body felt limp simply laying on the bed and when Bucky returned he chuckled at the state you were in.
“Don’t laugh at me,” you mumbled; the burning sensation between your thighs becoming apparent.
“You ok?” he asked sincerely when you winced trying to move.
“Yeah,” you chuckled, “I think I’m ok.”
“Good, can’t have my best girl falling apart on me now. Not when she just gave the greatest gift of  a new arm. Think of all the ways I have yet to do with this arm,” he whispered huskily making you giggle. He pulled close to him after crawling back onto the bed with you.
“I like that,” you smiled.
“The arm?”
“No, well yes of course, I made it,” you chuckled.
“I’m talking about you calling your best girl. Am I really?” you asked shyly.
“Of course you are,” he kissed your forehead.
“You make me the happiest man alive,” he whispered.
“Bucky,” you teared up.
“Get some rest, baby. You’re gonna need it,” he winked at you; you pressed kisses to his neck and jaw closing your eyes tiredly before Bucky turned you and cuddled you close from behind.
“I’m nowhere near done with you,” he gently wrapped his metal hand around your neck; a reminder that he was there behind you and he wasn’t gonna leave you.
Wanna be added to a taglist? Ask me!
238 notes · View notes
itsallyscorner · 10 months ago
Hey Ally idk if you are taking requests at the moment but if you are could you write something really fluffy with either Sebastian or Bucky! I am just not having a good time right now and would really appreciate anything you got! If you need a more specific idea i can come up with one just let me know and obviously no rush ♥️
Hiya hun! I hope this brightens your day/night and gets your spirits up💛 Sending all my love and good energy to you, happy reading!
Flowers and Nutella
Tumblr media
Your body felt as if it were glued to the bed. The warm covers you’ve been wrapped in all night brought you comfort and served as a protection from the cold of the harsh world. Today had been one of those days. You know those days, the ones where you wake up and it seems like the world is out to ruin you. You didn’t want to get out of bed because it was like you were dreading of going through with the day.
The past week had been difficult. A failed mission; false leads that ended up being a mouse trap. You were put in charge of Peter, it had been one of the few Avengers mission he was allowed to come along on. You lot were supposed to collect data about an ex SHIELD agent selling alien weapons to different buyers, including Hydra members. The whole thing turned out to be a trapped, long story short, it ended up with Peter getting shot in the shoulder by one of the weapons. Thankfully, Banner and Dr.Cho knew how to patch it up so he was safe, back to the energetic bright eyed puppy he was.
The week had just been hard to get through completely. The affects of those events had finally taken its toll on you and decided to pile up on you during this gloomy morning. You didn’t plan on leaving your room. All you wanted was to watch things on Netflix, eat, and just stay in your safe haven. Your room.
You had been watching Gossip Girl once again when a knock was heard from your door. You didn’t feel like interacting with anyone so you didn’t answer it. A few minutes pass and the door slowly creeks.
Outside Bucky was dressed in gym shorts and a loose gray shirt. His hair was twisted up in a bun, something he had learned from you and grown to love. It was Saturday and the two of you usually had training sessions together in the morning. When you didn’t respond to your door he grew concerned. Usually you were up and going, bouncing on the balls of your feet as your pony tail swayed side to side.
His head peeks behind your door and the sight in front of him makes him furrow his brows. You were far from ready, barely even close. You were in bed, wrapped in your blankets, eyes heavy as you watched some show on your tv.
“(Y/n)? Doll?” He calls out to you, slowly entering your room. The atmosphere was heavy as he took in the darkness and chilling temperature in your room.
Your hair rustled against your pillow as you move your head to look at him. You squint at him as the light from the window poured into your room. Bucky had pulled open the curtains and turned up the thermostat in your room.
“Buck? Hey, what are you doing here?” You eye his attire and groan.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I forgot we had training today.” You apologized squeezing your eyes shut. It was as if you couldn’t do anything right lately.
Bucky waved you off settling himself beside your legs on your bed. He nudges your thigh with his elbow, “No worries. But are you okay? You never forget our training days and you’re usually bouncing from wall to wall by now.” His soft voice fills your room flowing like honey. You feel a swell in your chest at how comforting his voice was.
“What’s going on, darling?” He looks at you, eyes full of concern as they plead you to tell him what’s wrong. You sigh and push your cheek against your pillow. One of your arms curling underneath the cushion while the other gripped to your blanket.
You shrug the shadow of a smile on your chapped lips, “I don’t know. Just don’t feel up for anything today. I just want to lay here and rest.”
Bucky sends you a comforting smile as his large hand comes to rub the small of your back, “It’s alright, sometimes we need breaks from the outside world.”
A small smile forms on your lips, though it didn’t bring that crinkle by your eyes, a sign that you were genuinely happy.
He looks around before his sparkling blue eyes come to land on you again. “D’ya need anything before I head to the gym?”
You hum shaking your head, “Nope, thank you though.”
Bucky nods and claps his hands against his thigh. Getting up and leans forwards to poke your nose, “Alright. Give me a call if you need anything, I’ll be here.” You let out a simple, “mmk” as he turns to leave your room.
The door shuts behind him as he presses his back onto it. Screw the gym, he thought to himself. You were clearly upset and there was a voice in his head telling him to go fix it. You probably didn’t want him prodding in on your rest day but he just wanted to see a smile on your face.
His long legs take him to the kitchen where Wanda, Nat, and Sam were. “Ladies.” He greets them, nodding his head. A silent look was sent to him by Nat, probably because she hadn’t had her coffee yet. Wanda sends him a smile as she uses her powers to cook multiple dishes for breakfast.
“Sam.” He greets his friend who responds to him with a grunt. Bucky shoves himself to a stool at the counter as he tries to come up of ways to cheer you up.
Wanda glances at him, “I don’t think she would enjoy a picnic outside, she likes to stay in her room when she wants a break.”
Bucky’s eyes move from the marbled counters to the back of Wanda’s auburn hair. “Well what do you think she would like right now? I walked in and and she just looked so out of it.”
Natasha sighed as he inhaled the rich smell of coffee, “Barnes just leave her alone, she’s had a rough week, let her get some rest.”
Bucky grumbled a frown on his face, “But she looked so sad, I can’t just leave her like that.”
The elevator dings as the doors slide open. All heads turn towards the hall as they see Peter come out from the elevator. His backpack was slung over his shoulder as greeted all of them with a boyish grin.
“Hey guys!” A round of “mornings” is heard amongst the group as Peter enters the kitchen. He looks over Wanda’s shoulder as his hand reaches under her arm to grab a piece of bacon.
The witch rolls her eyes as she swats his back, “You could’ve burned your fingers, Pete.” She scolded him motherly.
“I’m fine, what’s up guys?” Peter answers with the strip of bacon hanging from his mouth. He places his backpack on the floor and joins the others at the counter. Bucky glances at the boy. Maybe he would know a way to cheer you up. The both of you had been hanging out together a lot since you were his mentor, besides Tony, of course.
“Parker, what’s something that’ll get (y/n) to cheer up?” The boy perks up at your name.
“Flowers and a jar of Nutella.” He answers almost immediately, a proud grin on his face. His quick answer earned him some looks from his older team mates.
“How would you know that, Parker?” Nat asks him, sitting in the stool beside him. Peter fiddles with his fingers as he adjusts himself in his seat. His mouth opens to answer but Sam interrupts him.
“Someone gotta crush on (y/n)?” Sam teases the teenager. Peter’s eyes widen as his cheeks turn rosy, a clutter of stutters coming out his out.
“N-No! I mean— she’s pretty, really pretty. Beautiful in fact, but no, I don’t—I don’t have a crush on Ms. (y/n).” He manages to defend himself. A poor attempt of a defense in Sam’s opinion. Sam shakes his head at the boy, “Buck, looks like you’ve got competition.”
Peter’s eyes almost fall out their sockets at the mention of Bucky. The boy stares at the metal arm that could choke and kill him in an instant. “No! You don’t have any competition Mr. Barnes, sir, I swear.”
Nat smirks from beside him as Wanda chimes from behind them, “I could read minds, Peter!” She sang.
“How do you even know she likes flowers and Nutella?” Natasha asks him.
“Um—I asked her to go to prom with me, remember? She said she’ll only go with me if I buy her flowers and a jar of Nutella.” Peter answers. Bucky was up at his feet at an instant, patting his shorts for his wallet. When he felt the bulky object he glanced at the elevator. Walking behind Peter, he pats the boy’s back with his metal hand. Peter jumps almost yelping in his seat.
“Thanks, Parker.” Bucky chuckles then walks to the elevator.
He takes a train to get around the city. He ends up at the nearest retail store, looking through the shelves for Nutella and other things you might like. Once he had two bags full of treats and gifts he approaches the man outside the store who had a cart full of flowers. He didn’t know if you had a preference, but he chose the brightest out of the bunch. To him it represented your personality and the effect you had on his life.
He rushes back to the compound, bags in each hand and a bouquet of flowers under each arm. The sight of him might’ve been funny, a large bulky man with arms full of colorful flowers, a teddy bear, and all the cheesy pick me up gifts. He enters the kitchen not bothering to greet the others. Though he stops to take out two spoons from the drawers. Steve looks at him curiously while Sam nods at him in approval.
He heads straight to your room, excited to give you all the gifts he’s gotten you. He knocks on the door with the top of his foot, “I’m coming in!” He struggles to twist the knob of the door but he somehow manages to get it to open.
He slams the door shut with his back and greets you with a wide smile. Your eyes widen at him in shock.
“Surprise!” He yells happily. You feel your lips tug themselves upwards at him. You shuffle around in your bed, moving the blankets out the way.
“What’s all this?” You ask him trying to peer into the bags. He places them on the floor, gesturing for you to sit back.
“Alright, first off, here’s some flowers.” He grins handing you the two colorful bouquets. A giggle erupts from you as you take them from him. You take a whiff of the flowers, the floral smell entering your senses.
He digs through the bag and pulls out a large jar of Nutella. You gasp as Bucky presents it to you with a golden spoon from the kitchen. He hands them to you then bends back down to go through the bag.
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted some snacks, so I got some cookies, your favorite chips, crackers, some wine. I didn’t bother getting a cup, just chug the bottle.” He explains placing each item onto your bed.
“I also got you a teddy bear. But they had too many and I didn’t know which one you’d like so I got the bear, a llama, and a dog.” He chuckles bopping your face with the llama’s snout. You laugh as you try to hold all of them in your arms.
“Oh yeah, and here’s some candy.” He places at least five boxes of different kinds of candy onto your lap. You look at him in awe, the joy bursting in your chest at his lovely gesture. The happiness soon became too much and your eyes began to water. The proud smile on Bucky’s face falters, his shoulders slumping. He crouches in front of you, hands beside your legs.
“No! Doll, what’s wrong? Was it the candy? Do you not like skittles? Or is it the Hershey’s kisses? I could take them back! Do you not like the llama?” Questions began to roll off his tongue as he stared up at you. His thumbs came up to wipe stray tear from your face. A laugh bubbles from your chest, your free hand gripping onto his wrist.
“No, Bucky, this is just—no one’s really done this for me before. Thank you.” You smile at him through your tears. “Thank you, I really really appreciate it. You didn’t have to do all of this honestly.” You sniffled fiddling with the plush llama’s fur.
“It’s fine doll, honestly. Anything to see that smile on your face.” He grins up at you, happy with himself that he got to bring the smile that formed crinkles to the side of your eyes. You giggle once again and place all the gifts on your bed, you leans towards him, wrapping your arms around his neck and hiding your face into his neck. Bucky sighs in content, his metal hand coming up to stroke circles onto your back.
“Thank you, Buck.” You whisper against the skin of his neck. Bucky presses a kiss to your temple, “Anytime darling.”
You pull away and organize the things on your bed. You sit against the headboard did your bed and motion for him to join you.
“I’m gonna need help eating all of this.” You tease him. He settles beside you, arm around your shoulder. He reaches for a pack of Reese’s and rips it open with his teeth.
“Well good thing I’m a super soldier.” He chuckles tuning into the movie on your tv. You get curious and look at him.
“How did you know about the flowers and Nutella though?” You question him with a raised brow.
“Spider-boy.” He answers mouth full of the peanut butter cups. You laugh and lean back into his arm. You reach for the jar of Nutella and twist it open, pealing of the gold seal. Your spoon dips into the chocolate, breaking the smooth surface.
Bucky glances at you, “Feelin’ better?”
The spoon hangs from the corner of your mouth, savoring the delicious spread, “Much better.”
352 notes · View notes
kaleidoscopeluli · 3 months ago
Tumblr media
@peterparkerbingo square fill for Humiliation (Spideyflash)
Idk if anyone reads spideyflash but this was my most creative idea for the square so we're rollin with it. I wrote this while incredibly hello*** (still am, I think I'm unconscious) therefore I don't remember 80% of what I wrote, so please read at ur own risk idk how efficient my tags are gonna be.
Idk if em helped me hey em do u remember helping me with this I'll tag u lmk
R*ted E -- 1.6k words
Warnings/tags: Consensual und*r*ge s*x (between two teenagers, everyone is above the age of consent but they're in high school so I'm tagging this), consensual public humiliation, public s*x, use of the word sl*t and wh*re, public degradation, young love lmao, just a couple of 17-18 year olds experimenting s*xually what could go wrong
It took a while for Peter to begrudgingly accept that, if he ignored the crippling need to outperform everyone and everything, he and Flash had a lot in common.
They both had a shitty upbringing, they both thrived in school, they both very much had one-track-minds. The time it took to accept this was not an easy time for Peter, who had some…proclivities when it came to Flash.
Flash was the epitome of "hurt people hurt people", and boy, did he like to hurt people. It wasn't until junior year that Peter started to see the facade slip. Every week it seemed he was doing one more random act of kindness towards one of the students he'd hurt in the past, every week a small amends was made.
A fair portion of these were to Peter. It started when Peter walked past a leaky water fountain and nearly slipped, spidey-senses be damned. Flash had been nearby and gripped Peter by the waist to keep him from falling.
"Jesus, thanks Flash." Peter had breathed, heat spreading under the boy's hands.
"Whatever, Penis. Don't be so fuckin' clumsy."
Things like this continued to happen, one after another after another as Flash's demeanor slowly shifted. The positives outweighed the negatives, Peter could see that Flash was coming to terms with something, figuring out what kind of person he really wanted to be.
The negatives being that Peter's spank bank was dwindling. The harsh words, Flash looking him in the eyes and intently degrading him, it had been somewhat of an awakening for Peter. After that, each aggressive interaction was fuel for later, stored away for when he was alone and able to jerk off.
It wasn't until the second semester of junior year that any developments were made past that. Peter had a particularly rough patrol, a bank robbery on a school night, go figure. Peter had unlocked his front door and asked Ned to bring him the chemistry notes for the day.
Who walked into his bedroom to find him nursing his broken ribs and bullet-graze was not Ned.
"'Sup Peter, Leeds said you-" the boy froze in the doorway, mouth slack and eyes aflame. Peter was in shock, moved to cover himself quickly. "What the hell happened to you?"
Peter fumbled for a moment before blurting "bike crash".
"Bullshit, Parker, who did this?" Flash seethed, moving closer and ripping the blanket away from the large, mottled bruise over Peter's ribcage.
Now, it's not like Flash had proven himself a trustworthy ally or anything, Peter would barely consider them friends, but something in him crumbled at the protective streak the boy was letting slip. So he told Flash the truth, told him to poke the ceiling tile by the closet.
What followed was a moment of shock, a moment of pieces being puzzled together, a moment of Flash blushing, and then it all turned back into anger. "Do you have a shred of self-preservation, you fucking idiot? The elevator, Peter, what the hell?"
That's how Peter wound up with an in-home nurse. Every time Flash saw Peter do something irresponsible on the news, he showed up at the apartment and nagged, coddled, doted in ways Peter never could've let himself dream of.
His crush on his classmate grew as quickly as their friendship. The summer before senior year, Peter was doing a lot of patrolling, and thus found himself hurt more frequently than ever. He wasn't necessarily trying to goad Flash, but Peter would be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying all the attention he was getting from him.
They grew closer then closer then Peter went and outed himself, three times.
First that he was gay, to which Flash snorted and said that nobody thought otherwise. Then that he had a thing for degradation, which was a total slip, and had Flash blushing while rolling around Peter's bedroom floor laughing, the immature ass. And then, finally, that Peter had a crush on him.
Flash didn't laugh that time, just watched him carefully before standing up from Peter's desk chair, looking like determination and nerves, and kissed Peter right on the mouth.
They took things slow, neither of them really had the time to put their all into a relationship and Flash still had some "growing up to do", but Peter felt like the steady climb from sweethearts to lovers was reaching a peak by the time Autumn break of their senior year rolled around.
It came naturally, taking the next step. Flash was slow and steady, clumsy in spite of his truthless bragging throughout their high school careers. He'd been honest with Peter in the end, though, that he didn't exactly have experience, per say.
So they learned each other's bodies, explored, kissed anywhere lips could reach and some places they couldn't, and then Flash took him carefully on the bottom bunk of Peter's bed while May was at work, both clinging to each other sweetly and whispering words of encouragement, joy, love.
It was kindling on an open flame, swallowed up by the heat that was already there, they both wanted more. Neither boy could keep their hands off each other, constantly tugging on clothes and leaving warm kisses on skin, marks where nobody could see and then where anyone could.
That's around the time Flash decided he wanted to play. They started slow, first in private. "It's the words, mostly, the way you talk," Peter explained. "Ya know, you could call me a um, a s- um,"
"A slut, Peter? You want me to call you a slut?" Flash interrupted. Peter whimpered, grabbed at his boyfriend to steady his swaying body. "I think I can do that."
And off they went. Flash naturally ran his mouth a lot, a bit less in bed, but it was an easy addition. It poked Peter where he needed to be poked, but his preferences were a little more specific than just dirty talk.
He explained the details to Flash, told him his deepest, dirtiest fantasy and by some sort of miracle, Flash was hard in his pants before Peter finished speaking.
So Flash attached his lips to the side of Peter's neck and got to work making the darkest, filthiest hickey either of them had ever seen. It was purple, irritated, painful to the touch and so fucking hot, Peter rode Flash right then and there while his boyfriend pinched and rubbed the mark on Peter's neck.
Much to Peter's excitement, the mark was still there come morning, still dark and sore and beautiful. He walked through the hallway into physics, the only class he shared with Flash, tummy turning with excitement for what was to come.
"Jesus, penis, did'ya get mauled?" Flash asked once they were sat at their desks, two people in between them.
Everyone looked at Peter and snorted at the mark, Peter's insides were boiling. "Shut up, Flash." Peter mumbled, shifting in his seat.
"What? You show off a mark like that, of course people are gonna stare." Flash continued. "Bet you like that though."
Peter swallowed around a moan, gripped his desk tight enough for it to creak. There were inconspicuous safewords in place, he could make it stop whenever he wanted. He didn't.
"Whoever left that 's gotta be a freak, to put up with you?" Nobody was paying attention, at this point, but Peter was, and the effect was the same. "I mean, really, showin' off like that. Look like a fuckin' whore."
He's trembling, shivering, so hard that his zipper is digging into his erection, pressing against the denim and begging to be freed. "Yeah, whoever left that mark oughta be real proud of themselves, 'cause walking around like that, the whole school is gonna know just how much of a cockslut you really are."
Peter stands quickly, shoves away from his desk and draws the attention back to himself. "I gotta use the bathroom," Peter tells the teacher before scurrying to the one closest to the classroom. Before the door can swing closed, Flash is shoving his way inside and pinning Peter to the inside of a stall.
"Holy shit, you're shaking, look at you." Flash breathes before slamming his mouth into Peter, who can't fucking take it anymore, lets a moan slip. "You like it? Everyone in that classroom knows, Pete."
"Oh my god," he pants, pushing his hips forward into Flash's, hard dicks pressing together between two pairs of denim. "F-flash, I-"
"They all know, baby, they all know you're a slut for it." Flash breathes hotly into Peter's mouth, grabbing Peter's hips and pulling them harder into his own.
"Can I suck you off?" Peter asks, gripping Flash's shoulders in his hands.
"Shit, yeah," Flash pants. Peter makes quick work of his boyfriend's button and zipper before dropping to his knees on the dingy bathroom floor.
Peter licks up the shaft before swirling his tongue around the tip, trying to get it wet as quickly as possible before he takes it into his mouth. Flash digs his fingers into Peter's hair with a hiss, tugs on it a bit before pushing Peter's face down into his crotch.
"So horny from gettin' called names you just drop to your knees? You really are- a slut aren't you, Pete?"
Peter moans around Flash's cock, spit bubbling out the corners of his mouth, Peter rubs his tongue on the thick vein underneath, tightens his lips and sucks. The heat of it all has Flash coming quickly into Peter's mouth.
He pulls Peter up to his feet after catching his breath, Peter watches through foggy eyes.
"You did so good, Petey, made me feel real good. Ya need some help?"
"Already came," Peter snorts.
"God, that's hot." Flash kisses him once again before they make the walk back to class. Nobody even noticed they were gone.
55 notes · View notes
acciofanfics · 10 months ago
Teacher’s Pet (Remus Lupin x Reader) Part 6 SMUT
Tumblr media
Summary:  (Y/N) wants to be a professor at Hogwarts. Dumbledore offers her a chance to intern and figure out what she wants to do… hopefully she’ll make it through the year.
Pairing: Remus Lupin x FemReader
Warnings: Age gap, SMUT and language.
A/N: So idk I kinda hate this... idk why 😂 but the overwhelming consensus was smut so TA-DA! - S
It was almost comical how quickly things had changed between the two. Somethings remained similar, like the playful flirting and the stolen glances were still there... but ever since their kiss, the tension in the air was thick enough that it could be cut with a knife. There just wasn’t enough time or privacy in the day to replicate the circumstances in the few days following. It wasn’t like they were really in the position to entertain a proper label or schedule; Remus flirted with the idea of asking her on a proper date, but that wasn’t exactly practical. Remus didn’t know which was worse: feeling like he hadn’t been permitted to act on his desires or rather knowing how it felt to give in and physically not be able to.
Remus’ lips twitched into a small grin when he saw (Y/N) smile at him from a few pieces of parchment. He watched as discreetly as he could, still trying to give as much attention as he could to the task he had at hand. Honestly, he wondered how (Y/N) was possibly juggling the workload she had... especially recently. He’d often see her running around like a chicken with its head cut off, sprinting from classrooms all over the castle. He’d seen her bring homework assignments with her to dinner and it seemed that in the past week or so the piles were getting bigger. It hadn’t really occurred to the man how much of the time they spent together happened during schooling hours or the occasional walk at night, but he hadn’t seen her outside office hours in what seemed like awhile.
Remus knew he was probably doing this for more selfish reasons. Honestly it was probably more of a chance to get her alone and to himself. An argument could be made that it was to give the struggling young woman a break though. Remus made his way over to her once he had his student working on something that didn’t require his complete attention. Wand movements usually did the trick. In a low voice he simply suggested, “If you’re feeling a little rebellious, meet me on the fourth floor tonight when everyone is in bed.”
Remus hadn’t been able to get any verbal confirmation before being summoned back to his responsibilities, but judging by the mischievous glint in her eyes he had assumed the answer to be a yes. He had very much looked forward to it all day, and he was more than please to see (Y/N) already waiting for him. She smiled sheepishly at him, “Guess I was a little early.”
He didn’t blame her, he would’ve been a bit earlier himself had he not misplaced his wand briefly. Remus chalked it up to feeling like a teenager again with the sneaking out and around, with all of the excitement an old habit of losing his belongings was bubbling up too. “Seems like I was running a bit late. Come on, I have somewhere in mind you might enjoy.”
(Y/N) eagerly followed him to a mirror, and though she didn’t often find herself avoiding mirrors she didn’t know if she’d go as far as to say she enjoyed them. It wasn’t very long at all though that Remus was carefully moving a mirror that revealed a passageway that had been carved out. Once the two had ducked into the clandestine hallway and he had lit up the darkness with the tip of his wand, Remus replaced the mirror. “Whoa! I didn’t know this existed!”
It was common knowledge there were many secret passageways hidden in Hogwarts. The location of which were less known, but if that had been common knowledge too they would no longer be secret. “James and- my friends used to have a knack for finding these things.”
“You all must’ve done quite a bit of sneaking out, huh?” She joked while following the passageway down a little bit.
“A fair share of it sure... though we weren’t supposed to tell anyone.” Remus wasn’t lying, but he knew that on more than one occasion James and Sirius used a few of these passages to impress a pretty girl. He supposed he was just a little late on the trend.
“Well, I won’t tell if you don’t. Where does this go?” (Y/N) asked out of pure curiosity, though now that she thought about it, it was probably good practice to know where you were going.
“It comes out right outside of Hogsmeade. Of course that’s a long walk, I know.”
“Well, that’s okay. I feel like I could use a break.” She smiled and began walking with Remus. (Y/N) felt like she’d gotten a good bit better at juggling what had left her so overwhelmed her first week officially working at Hogwarts. However, these past couple of days had been a little hectic and she should’ve 100% been grading those homework assignments McGonagall asked if she could take on, but couldn’t refuse the offer.
Remus quite fond of the walk they shared. He asked about her years at Hogwarts and her family and she inquired the same. He didn’t think he could recall the last occasion he’d really taken the time to get to know someone or had them try and do the same. By the time they reached the end of the passageway, (Y/N) knew that he was an only child and had quite the sweet tooth even as a boy. He knew that conversely she came from quite a large family, but she’d agree that dessert was definitely the best course.
The room they’d arrived in was quite large, but it was obviously that anyone who knew of its location has long abandoned it. It showed no signs of any visitors in probably years. Still, (Y/N) found it to be quite a fun visit. A little dusty sure, but nothing a quick flick of her wand couldn’t fix. “Well, now that we’re here what are your plans?”
“Right...” Remus didn’t think that far ahead, which he would like to say was a bit unusual. Of course the ultimate goal had been to spend alone time with her, but now that was accomplished... “I ought to be better prepared ne-“
She was well aware it was rude to interrupt people, but she she would do it anyways. (Y/N) stood on her toes and grabbed hold of the front of his sweater and yanked Remus down to her level. She thought the act of crashing her lips into his might’ve been a little sexier had she not been so short in comparison. Remus however did not mind one bit hunching down to her level. This thought had definitely crossed his mind, but hadn’t want to be too forward. Now that he thought about it, he should’ve seen it coming. (Y/N) was very forward with what she wanted. Back at the Three Broomsticks she’d commented that she didn’t make the first move, but he supposed that wasn’t entirely true. He wasn’t complaining though. It was quite the opposite as he immediately responded, kissing her back and circling his arm around her.
(Y/N) broke away with a wide grin, “That wasn’t your plan?”
Remus chuckled, and straightened himself out, “No, but I’m always open to suggestions.”
(Y/N) pulled away leaving Remus quite confused. Perhaps she was annoyed it hadn’t been his sole intention to snog the woman. He felt better when she made her way to a wooden table set in the center on the room. He was certain she would sit down but instead she turned to face him. A small moment of hesitation seemed to cross her mind before she spoke, “I hope you wouldn’t think too little of me if I confessed this had been my plan...”
(Y/N) wasn’t lying. She’d desperately been hoping for an uninterrupted moment alone and wanted to be prepared in case she got that moment. Now that she had it well she hoped it wouldn’t be entirely too fast for the man.
Remus watched as she kicked off her shoes. She then pulled her shirt over her head and her pants had been the next article of clothing to follow. The undergarments that had now been exposed to him were quite nice to look at, especially with the model wearing them. The way the lace laid so perfectly against her skin made his heart beat just a tad bit faster and left him staring, or better yet ogling her. He felt a little lame, just standing there. He had hoped, counted on being close to (Y/N). He’d hoped they would’ve had a chance to - This just far exceeded what he’d hoped to accomplish.
It also wouldn’t have been untrue to say he’d been a little out of practice. Not new or naive to the subject, but it definitely wasn’t something he did on the regular. He normally was well aware of the fact it was nothing to be ashamed of, but did feel himself grow a little uncomfortable with the fact as she stood there in front of him. He definitely hoped he wouldn’t disappoint.
Staring was probably a better sign than him getting up and walking away. (Y/N) did wish he’d say something though. She felt so entirely vulnerable and was now a little fearful of rejection... “Too much?”
Her voice snapped Lupin back to reality. Her face showed she was starting to feel uncomfortable, and Remus felt terrible. That had definitely not been his intention. He decided it best if he just shut off his head and led his instincts take over.
In an instant he was in front of her, lifting her into the table bringing her to a much more comfortable height for him. His lips were on hers and if the first kiss had been good, well this one had been amazing. (Y/N)’s confidence quickly regained and excitement took over knowing exactly where this was going. Her legs parted, allowing her the opportunity for Remus to settle between them and her to pull him closer.
Remus’ hands met the bare skin of her thighs and traveled up and down her leg. The skin of his hands was so rough comparatively, but the contrast felt so unfamiliar and welcome. (Y/N) couldn’t help but be hyper aware of everywhere he touched and everywhere she wanted him to do so. Patience was a virtue wearing thin on her at the present moment and she found her hands quickly pulling the cost from his shoulders and working a few buttons on the shirt that he was wearing underneath. She was much too impatient to care enough to rid him of the entire shirt, once a few buttons were undone and it had been untucked she gave up on the task. She favored dipping her hands underneath the fabric, she just wanted to touch. Remus shivered a bit against her fingertips.
(Y/N) abandoned his mouth and trailed her kisses towards his neck. Remus was being absolutely driven mad by the nibbling. A gasp interrupted her and Remus smirked as his fingers carefully brushed against her clothed core. His touch was so light it could’ve almost been construed as an accident, if the knowing look hadn’t completely given him away. Ever the tease, and partially because he was no where near done with her, Remus didn’t give any indication there would be a follow-up. He moved his hand up actually and drug his fingertips lightly across her shoulders and chest, outlining the bra she was wearing. She arched into him, whimpering just a bit; she had no idea Remus Lupin was such a tease and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to handle it. (Y/N) had never been one to beg in the bedroom, of course she’d never really been with anyone taking such time and care; it was usually a heated spur of the moment type of setting (kind of what she expected from this). Still, there was a first time for everything, “Please touch me...”
Really Remus could’ve been content sitting there doing nothing but stand there and egg her on. It would’ve been torture for him too, but listening to the noises she made and feeling her breath quicken under his fingertips would’ve made it worth it. But her plea was too much, and Remus not only felt obligated but he wanted to oblige her request. Reaching behind he unclasped her bra and threw the unnecessary article to the side. He placed a chaste kiss to her lips before getting right to what she wanted.
(Y/N) felt like he was setting his skin on fire, everywhere his skin met hers like a flame had been held to it. Remus’ lips trailed from her neck to her shoulders and finally... her breath hitched when he made it to her breasts. Though she didn’t have much time to think about the way his tongue flicked over her nipple, because almost simultaneously he’d pushed her underwear to the side and his fingers brushed against her again. “Fuck...” She hissed.
Remus used his thumb to rub circles across the bundle of nerves and sank another inside of her, and relished the way her hips bucked against his hand. The way she arched herself into him... Remus couldn’t help but imagine how good how much better it would feel to have his cock buried deep inside her rather than his fingers, especially when he felt her clench around his digit. He didn’t know how much more her could handle, so without a second thought when she asked her obliged, he gladly accommodated.
Remus withdrew his hands from her body and unbuttoned his trousers in record time, and in less than a minute his hardened cock was able to spring out of its confines. (Y/N) watched him almost as intently as he’d watched her. She was much too excited to just stare though. She’d thought about this more than she’d care to admit and after already having a taste of what he could do she jumped to her feet in front of him. (Y/N) had been ready to return the favor (plus a little extra), but even though the idea sounded heavenly Remus just didn’t have the patience.
Given her stature it wasn’t a hard task to turn her around and bend her over the table. Once she’d been fully laid across the table, only the tips of her toes touched the floor. It left her feeling rather small and like she was completely at his mercy, but the vulnerability just seemed to heighten her senses. She let out a low sigh of anticipation when she felt him line himself up with her entrance.
Remus felt a flash of reluctancy... this young woman had seen parts of him that people hadn’t in quite a long time. He didn’t think he could possibly pull himself away from her at this point, but should he try? He didn’t think, no he knew he couldn’t give her what she deserved outside. Her impatience put an end to his internal sabotaging, “Remus, I’m not sure how much longer I can wait.”
His response she quite enjoyed. A moan left both of their mouths as he entered her. She felt her insides stretching to accommodate the most pleasant of intrusions. Then he pulled out almost completely before thrusting back in earning a cry of approval from the woman beneath him. (Y/N)’s imagination couldn’t compare to the real thing and she hoped she would be able to remember every detail on his hands digging into her hips holding her still and the drag of his cock as he pulled out, or how amazingly full she felt when he slammed back in hitting spots she hadn’t been truly aware of herself.
Remus’ name fell from her lips like a prayer, a praise, a chant and he couldn’t think of a single thing he enjoyed hearing more in that moment. His rhythm was starting to suffer, but he was hanging on her dear life. As soon as he felt her body spasming around him, he let go. Emptying himself inside of her and feeling a joyous release of pleasure and pressure that had been building inside of him.
Remus stayed still for a moment before summoning the strength to pull out. His breath was labored and (Y/N) was also trying to catch her breath. “I think I might need just a moment before that hike back.”
Taglist: @iamabeautifulperson18 @figlia--della--luna @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @idkitsrandxm @marvel-rhapsody @little-bit-of-randomness @nuttybeardetective @siriuslypadfootmc @tugabooos @obx-beach @badedum-badaboom @starlightkell @bepo-is-sorry @hamildork @shadesofbarryallen @lunaqveen @pxstelink @auberosier @harrypotter289 @levylovegood @sapphicnoodle69 @thestunningspell @themostdivisive @pan-pride-12 @lilacskiesandpolaroids @whimsicallymad
186 notes · View notes
sunmoonandbucky · 7 days ago
Ok but here’s the thing! There is this bank in my town and every time I went in as a child I always got this feeling, that if anyone was gonna rob a bank it would be this one. The lay out of the doors (aka the entry and exit points), the windows, all the different ways to leave, to hiding in rough neighborhoods not far away to the highway that doesn’t lead to anywhere major for almost and hour in either direction. Like as a kid I legit thought one day I’m gonna be in here with my mom, or dad, or even my grandma and we’re gonna get robbed. Another reason is that when I was really young I went into the safe room with all the safety deposit boxes, and all you need was the keys to get in!!! And they were right there!!! So I spent my childhood every time in that bank thinking of what I would do and how I would survive a bank robbing(and only ever this bank, never any of the other in the county, the others didn’t feel robbable🤷🏻‍♀️). To, so this is the path I usually take when we visit this is how long it would take us to run this way out one door and that the other one wasn’t an option unless we were just entering or about to exit. Like these plans were well thought out. Btw this all happened between the ages of to young to remember, so younger then 4, up to about 12, didn’t go back in after that family didn’t bank there anymore, But the best fucking part is that in my senior year of high school my mom had to cash a check so I went in with her, and let me tell you this isn’t the biggest bank, but it’s big for our area and over the years the space that they use and the employees that work have declined so it’s just empty practically. With no Guard! Except maybe one in the back but you can practically see the entire bank by just walking in through one door and out the other. So you wanna know what 17 year old me did😏😏 I thought up of a really elaborate bank robbery and what female classmates I would have work with me to our different strong suits, I thought up who would be able to get certain info that we would need to be successful, how we would go about the actually robbery, what part each of us would play on that day how the money would be split, even our fucking alibis, how we would cover up planning together and that if we got caught that it couldn’t be tracked down to us but to anonymous people who started messaging us on untraceable prepaid flip phones that we started finding on our way home from school and near our vehicles and so forth, and how they were threatening us with proof to hurt our family, and how they always made us ditch the phones after a certain amount of time and to expect a new one soon, and that we were nothing more then scared but smart 17 year old girls, who were scared into doing this and no we don’t know what happened to the money after we left it here blah blah blah. As you can see super fucking elaborate and this isn’t even half of it. Anyway the whole point of this was yes become a bank robber I support you 100% and even more importantly my 17 year old self supports this even more. Not related but I really want to turn this into a novel! Think it could work? The daydreams of a teenage bank robbery? But the actually book is a fictional back robbery?!? Idk I think it would be cool I have a lot of import bank robbing plots written up🙄🤫 based off of this😁 and sorry that it’s so long I’ve only ever shared this with one other person😅😅
... i fucking love this
18 notes · View notes
thecyndimistuff · 11 months ago
This is gonna be long but hmm... Boba’s development as flawed character is so much more natural and better displayed in such little screentime than Bo-Katan’s ever was. Also I’m not The Boba Fett Expert, so feel free to correct me. 
Like there’s a reason we love Boba so much more as a flawed character over Bo-Katan. Boba went from loving child to vengeful child after his father’s murder. This shifted to rage-filled teenager who begins to adopt more of his father’s ways/culture. He kills Cad Bane to save some innocent people, taking up his father’s legacy (by wearing the armor) as a Mandalorian, and taking Cad’s place as the most revered bounty-hunter in the galaxy. From there he becomes a survivor in a cruel galaxy. There are no good guys, but he doesn’t actively seek out to hurt innocent people either. He’s not actively choosing to be a villain, every bounty is just a job, he just happens to be the best. And Darth Vader/The Empire/Jabba happen to be the ones who pay for the best. He’s such a great non-hero. He has very few things left for himself, revenge was taken from him, but he still has his anger and his reputation so they become the things he wants to preserve. 
After the Sarlacc Pit incident in ROTJ, he loses both his anger and his reputation in one fall. Clearly in The Mandalorian we see he has gone through struggles we haven’t seen him go through, but clearly his experiences after the Sarlacc have changed him. He hasn’t gone soft or become some sort of angel figure at all, but he has matured and let go of anger being his default emotion. He negotiates peacefully with Din for his armor instead of just trying to kill him for it. He tells Din they should leave when Bo-Katan initially snubs their request instead of getting mad. Clearly he’s ready to throw down the instant the situation calls for it, but never before. Also he still cares deeply about his father’s legacy (considering the armor meant so much to him) but he doesn’t care abt his reputation as much anymore. I especially loved when Din praises Boba for taking out two ships with one missile, and Boba responds with “I was aiming for the other one.” OG Trilogy Boba would’ve NEVER admit that in the past, bc his reputation as the best was so important to him. Clearly Boba has matured and mellowed out and reorganized his priorities.
And he’s still pretty rough and the edges and morally-grey, he’s still Boba Fett. But his development is so natural, so in-character. He’s still a survivor, it’s become a central part of who he is, but he doesn’t seek to stay at the top like before when he cared about his reputation. He understands that he’s done bad things in the past, and doesn’t try to pretend he’s a good person. But he keeps his word, and when he does he keeps it to its full-extent. When he says he’s indebted to Din, instead of just leaving after getting his armor back, he offers his weapons, his ship and so much more to help Din get his kid back. 
I don’t know if this even makes sense or I’m just rambling but Boba is SO much better as a flawed non-hero character than Bo-Katan. Bc with her it’s like... the narrative is INSISTING that she’s matured and become a good person. Like Dave Filoni & Katie Sackhoff are trying their absolute most to convince me she’s changed her ways and she’s now fit to rule as Mand’alor when... SHE STILL ACTS LIKE THE SAME EVIL BACKSTABBER AS BEFORE. She’s still every bit malicious and hypocritical as she always is, while also pretending that she’s a savior angel who has never committed wrong in her life ever. She betrays her word and gaslights Din when he calls her out on it. Her entitled attitude that she’s always had would be so much more fun and earned if she actually accepted that she’s made horrible mistakes and stopped being a malicious hypocrite. And she’s had WAYYYY more opportunities for her development than Boba ever did, so why didn’t they give her any? So idk why people are so mad like “why do you accept Boba as a flawed character and not Bo-Katan?? You guys are misogynists!!” 
The answer’s pretty clear to me, because Boba is better-written. 
248 notes · View notes
vynsteacup · 26 days ago
Detective Darius Morgan Headcanons
Listen. I know there's hardly any content of him. I dont know how much this will be appreciated. But if the same for 4 people who saw my post asking if anyone wanted this see it, I win.
Be warned, its 2k words (just under, probably) because I have nothing to do at work. At all. *deepest of sighs*
Should be SFW!!! Some things are referenced but im not in the mood to talk about too much Naughtiness so its SFW.
If the flow is weird, my apologies. I tried to group stuff together and so I may have gone back to sections where the next section goes off something I said in part of the section above... you'll understand as you read.
I'm gonna start with casual, out of work attire. I genuinely don't think you would find him in loungewear EVER outside his home. So no sweatpants.... although maybe a sweatshirt on laundry day. I'm also thinking, even though he probably doesn't get a fat paycheque, he tries to dress well. He doesn't think about fashion but good lord, Marius wouldn't believe it. "I just buy what looks nice." in the once in three blue moons that he actually goes to get new clothes. He works every day, probably, so anything that's not work is casual and probably very worn.
I think, yanno those like school varsity football jackets? Um yeah he still wears his. Its not because he tries to show off, but those things are comfortable, warm, and if he happens to be with someone who forgets to bring a warm layer, he can give it to them and he secretly loves watching their expressions.
("Oh... my god this is so warm!" "Mhmm." "I'm keeping this forever. Sorry, its mine now." "Is your last name Morgan too, then? Huh, I didn't know." Motherfucker.)
P.s: he hates suits even if his work uniform is basically a suit without the suit jacket. If he has to wear a suit, its all black. That is all. Also yes he would wear the three-piece suit. Go all out or nothing. Maybe a dark blue vest for some flavor with a matching tie.... idk. Brainrot of Darius in an all black three-piece suit........... suspenders......... aaah... yep.
Ok speaking of. I really don't think he's super chatty. He's tired. I'm honestly thinking very Eddie Brock (Venom) vibes with him tbfh. But I think when he does talk, he's slick as FUCK. He probably likes to see you blush as your scramble for a response. Hes smooth tho. He doesnt let you scramble for long. Also would ruffle your hair (if you have some and didn't stop him). He chuckles a lot. I imagine his voice as deep, but since I play TOT with the sounds off, idk if they have a voice actor for him. But look at him. Hes got a great morning voice oh good lord now im thinking about his morning voice aaaaaah crap.
I also think, once a relationship is established, hes very doting and soft. Hes protective- he knows who he is, he knows that the police are not loved. (And he knows why. Honestly I'm not sure how to... write about that, though, and its also not my place to... so anyone who'd like to write about that may. Just yanno remember to be respectful to people and irl events.) So he knows that if he fucks up or a mistake comes to bite him in the ass, you might be in danger. He knows you can probably handle yourself, but he also thinks of all the worst scenarios. He doesn't want the most important person to him in any danger.
Honestly I think he would be very reluctant to a relationship. But, unlike three of the boys (Luke, Artem, and Marius), he and Vyn have something in common- hes definitely at least had some one-night-stands. Maybe after particularly rough days or weeks. Stress coping. Not gonna talk about if its wise or not.
Because, like, come on. Hes at leeeeast thirty, making him older than the boys. So he may be experienced in bed, but romance is tricky and he denies or hides his feeling like a teenager afraid of his crush. (Re: ohmygod they would be in danger tho if I confessed oh no I can never tell them!) Of course, he would confess while expressing that he is worried about you.
He also loves to see you in his blue uniform shirt. I dont know if either of you acknowledge it aloud, but since you grabbed it and put it on that one time... yeah. Yep.
But yeah hes a softy underneath all the brooding and tired exterior.
(Bonus: If u like... uh.... his cuffs..... yep thats all)
I dont believe he can cook much. Like, beyond the basics, he has like. 2 dishes that he can reliably cook. Hes a simple man, he knows how to vary them, but come on, its not like he has much time to cook stuff. You realize this quickly and while you dont have much time either, you meet him halfway... or more than halfway. Also, hey, carryout/delivery isn't so bad every once in a while. He'll work on it if you bring it up. He doesn't really notice until you do. Thats the first time you see him embarrassed. He's kinda cute as he apologizes, and it makes up for your slight annoyance at eating the meal for the third time. Hes used to his way of living, he might (definitely) forget people live differently than he does. Hes cute, I forgive him.
As a boyfriend, he does his darnedest. He literally doesn't care what he does with you, as long as its with you. When you ask him for date ideas, he thinks of some favors he can cash in to show you secret or expensive places. Those upper class jerks are good for one thing, if it makes you smile and if it impresses you. Because, of course, hes been here when it opened, so his attention is on you. (His eyes may not be, but hes much more attentive than you notice.)
I feel like hes the kind of person to snap candids of you an you dont even notice. I dont know how he would do it, but I really think he would want to remember and capture sweet moments with you. He doesnt tell you or show you these pictures, and they aren't, like, ones where you're exposed (....most of them, at least. He doesn't take pictures of you asleep for damn sure, you're not a pet.), but he just keeps them to himself. He forgets that you either know his passcode or you have your fingerprint saved in his phone, and you happen to see it because he had the album last open on his phone. Hes a sucker.
At the beginning of your relationship, I think he made a note in his notes app where he writes down your birthday, or favorite color, or things like that. Hes afraid of forgetting those things. He could never forget the day he met you, nor when the two of you admitted your feelings for each other, or when you went on your first date. He knows those dates. Hes quiet- hes thinking of those things. He doesn't mind being distracted by you.
He tries not to be super possessive because he admires your independence, but sometimes he snaps at someone like when Artem asks you to come in to work on a case on your day off. Scary Darius.
He likes holding your hand when you cross streets.
I dont think he would get jealous easily. He knows that, before he confesses, he hasn't told you, so he has no right to be upset if you flirt or spend time with someone else. And when you're together, he knows where you end up at the end of the day, so hes secure in that. If anything, if someone flirts with you and makes you uncomfortable, he checks with you first (in case you wanna defend yourself), then gives a death glare to the unlucky person. Even if you flirt back comfortably, again, he knows where the two of you end up. You in his arms, the other person unfortunately ~probably~ all alone, boohoo.
I have gotta say, I think sometimes he forgets to close doors all the way. He doesn't do it on purpose, hes just not used to people being in his home. He always puts the toilet seat down (if that applies), but cabinet doors or room doors can sometimes be left just slightly open.
His walls are kinda bare. What art he does have are monuments or architectural things. Stellis is very sleek and modern, but he knows about the older buildings. When someone else at work is reluctant to go into centuries-old buildings because they're creepy, he pretends to be annoyed but inwardly hes comfortable in them and goes without fear.
His home is usually clean, too. Its partially because he doesn't spend much time there, but also because he cleans things after use. So things aren't spick and span, but his apartment is presentable if you happen to drop by.
He shares something with Luke- i think the two of them are the only ones with any sort of pectorals. Yanno, them man boobs. Juicy muscle on the chest. (I simply refuse to believe the other boys have any beyond abs or, yanno, tone. Luke and Darius could have a nice arm wrestling match, no im not gonna say who wins.)
He tries to keep a cactus alive. He writes down when he waters it to be sure not to overwater it. Its name is Alfred and Alfred knows everything about you. He lives in the kitchen and Darius talks to him when hes cooking or nursing coffee or beer. Hes a beer guy.
I'm not sure if hes a cat person or a dog person. I think he would get along with either well. I dont know if he would have a pet, because he often has long days, and even cats need attention. Maybe if he ever gets to retire he'll get a pet. Beside himself, Alfred is the only thing living in the apartment.
He does have co-workers he spends time with outside of work. Methinks its usually at a bar or someplace like that.
I think he calls his parents every once in a while. More frequently after you start dating him. I also feel like he has a sibling but I dont know if they're older or younger. Methinks an older sister? What if she's a lawyer too!!!
(Plot twist- Celestine and Darius are related. Big just joking.... but his older sister is much like Celestine. He likes working with her.)
Idk where to put this but !! Hes a podcast guy. He listens to podcasts rather than music. He dislikes true crime with a passion (literally dont get him started because if you do, he, rightfully so, will talk for like a whole ten minutes and you won't be sure if you should be excited he talked for that long STRAIGHT or if he's ok) but he won't say anything if you listen to it. To each their own. I think he listens to podcasts talking about, like architecture or, like... news, or something. He knows what's going on in the world. Hes the first to deck any asshole. Not physically, tho. It takes a lot to get him to physical action. He has a killer glare, he knows how to insult someone (hes gotten his (un)fair share of insults or heard them thrown around). He knows how to intimidate. Usually, he can get someone to chill out or leave. If not, he would take anything outside. I think he would try not to flash his badge. If he's off the clock, he doesnt work for the city. Idk deTECtive Darius Morgan, only Darius. I dont think he likes attention.
Oh God this was much longer than I thought. I thought I would type a bit about his clothes, maybe a few habits. Good lord.
I hope someone enjoyed! If you have any of your own ideas, definitely let me know! If you agree or disagree. We literally have so little to go on that any of us could be right.
I... might post a NSFW batch at some point, but I also feel like it would be more telling of me than him, beside the things in this post. So yanno. Maybe we can just imagine.
21 notes · View notes
reynier · 7 months ago
Thank You
So, I know I said I would be leaving in a few months as opposed to right away, but as soon as I announced that I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders, and that to me indicated I should leave sooner rather than later. I’m gonna stick around for a couple more days to say goodbye to people and tie up some loose ends, but I wanted to say thank you to everyone I’ve interacted with. This is suuuuuuper long, so it’s under a cut, but-- here’s what you mean to me, I guess. It’s in alphabetical order for ease of navigation. If I met you via real life stuff you’re not on here because it feels weird to put you here, but I also love you guys.
To the mutuals I’ve never interacted with: thank you nonetheless. Have a WONDERFUL life. You deserve it.
If you’re my mutual and you want to stay in touch via, idk, Discord or Instagram or something, feel free to hit me up. I love you all.
Abby @aba-daba-dooo : Abby, I’m so glad I met you. You’re such an icon. You’re smart, funny, down-to-earth, and so determined and enthusiastic. Everyone who is mean to you I want to run at so so fast and attack with my fists. Your bravery is incredible and I love you so much for all the conversations we’ve had. I really appreciate the time you take to talk to me. I’m so glad we met and I’m so glad you trust me with all the things you tell me about. People should be nicer to you!!!! It makes me very upset that they are not!!! What the fuck!!! I love you so so much. <3
Al @knight-of-the-kitchen : Al-- thank you so much for being an awesome zine mod. You’re kind, enthusiastic, and overall make any space you’re in better. Thank you for everything, I hope life treats you well, because my life has been improved by having you in it.
Alex @conan-doyles-carnations : You’ve been nothing but supportive, enthusiastic, and wildly creative in the time I’ve known you, and it’s been an absolute delight. Your writing is GORGEOUS and the way you interweave history into it is admirable. Our shared passion for all sorts of things brings me so much joy, and I’m so glad I met you. I don’t think this is the last time we’ll talk, but on the horrible chance that it is-- thank you, I love you, have a wonderful life <3
Alice @whatthewhenjustmighthavebeen : Alice, you deserve nothing but the best. You love your passions so much and it’s absolutely admirable. You are kind and enthusiastic and brave, and I’m so sorry that things have been rough for you recently. The roughness of things does not reflect on you. Life is really hard some times, and I hope so desperately that it gets better for you soon, because you deserve it very very much. I’m sending you so much love <3 <3 <3
Ally @allyspock : Hey Ally! It’s been ages since we’ve talked, but I have fond memories of chatting with you about all sorts of things. Thank you for that!! I hope you have a wonderful life.
Amanda @toothpastecanyon : Oh my God Amanda, I love you so much. I cannot express to you how glad I am I met you and furthermore that I’ve gotten to hang out with you in person (and hopefully will get to hang out with you in person again soon!). You’re so kind, so dedicated, so enthusiastic about the things you love. On top of that, you’re super smart, and I absolutely believe you’re going to be a wildly successful novelist one day soon. I’m going to buy all your books and put them on a special bookshelf and point when people come over and be like THATS MY FRIEND AMANDA. SHES ON THE NYT BESTSELLER LIST, GUYS. I love you so much. Talk to you soon <3
Anne @slingerapen : Anne, I’m not saying anything to you I haven’t said before, but every single thing you say makes me smile. You’re so unabashedly yourself and that is such a wonderful thing to be, because everything about you is amazing. Beyond being a hilarious icon, you’re an incredible artist and also?? SO smart?? Like holy crap you’re so smart and dedicated and you throw yourself into your passions with your whole heart and it brings me so much joy. Everyone who knows you IRL is incredibly lucky, because even over the internet you’re such a warm and enthusiastic presence. I can’t express how glad I am you left me an ask about how you like it when Gawain is sexist, and furthermore how glad I am that I didn’t block you on sight or say something mean XD. You are a wonderful amazing person and overall make my life better by existing in it. Thank God you exist, and thank YOU <3 <3 <3
Arenal @physticuffs : Okay, okay, so, when I was a senior in high school applying to major in physics you were SUCH an inspiration. Hearing about your adventures with undergrad and then with grad school as well made me feel like being a physics major was something in my reach, something that I was allowed to do. I’m so, so appreciative of your general existence, and I want to let you know how much it impacted me when I was a teenager. Thank you. Beyond that, you’re smart, determined, cool, and watching you get into Arthuriana made me so happy. Have a wonderful, wonderful life. <3
Arin @ducktoothcollection : Hey Arin? You’re so cool. You’re so smart and considerate and you care so much about other people. You improve the world immensely by your existence in it. I wish you the absolute best, keep being as awesome as you are.
Basil @basiltheratatouille : Basil!!! Autocrat of finding stuff in the BNF database! God bless your enthusiasm, intelligence, and desire to help other people find cool stuff. You clearly are going to do so awesome at whatever you decide to do, and your amiability and desire to make friends are wonderful things about you. <3 <3 <3
Beth @tobeisexhausting : Beth, I think that college is going to be an absolute blast for you. I think you’re going to be set free to study so many cool things and I think you’re going to have such a wonderful time. You’re smart and caring and so, so creative. Life better treat you well or I’m going to punch it.
Bria @paladinical : Oh, beloved Respondent 63, I’m so glad I met you. I hope you know how awesome you are. You’re so unbelievably kind to everyone around you-- nice, considerate, thoughtful, and an amazing positive presence. Everything around you, you think about methodically and with an eye to treating people well. Every conversation I’ve had with you has been absolutely lovely and I treasure our interactions. Your enthusiasm for everything in your life is absolutely wonderful, and I know things are rough right now, but I hope some day you will realise what a gift you are to everyone around you. Love you so much, Rey.
Camille @loysedelalune : Camille, you have such a wonderful energy. You are kind, positive, intelligent, and your presence on my dash and in my notifs makes me so happy. It’s SO COOL that you’re studying philology. I think that’s so incredibly badass. Wishing you the absolute best, thank you for so many lovely vibes <3 <3 <3
Cat @magpiefngrl : Cat, the term “fandom mom” has certainly gone out of vogue recently, but the concept it’s supposed to evoke-- someone who has been around in fandom for ages and knows the ins and outs of how to do things, who looks out for younger participants and lends a hand-- for me, you’re that kind of person, and I appreciate it so much. ScotSwap never would have happened without you. I was in 10th grade that first year, which is wild to look back on, and you helped me organize it. It was my first ever fandom project (the first of many!) and without you I never would have been able to do it. I unfollowed you for a couple of years when you added the 18+ only bit to your blog, and then refollowed you again as an adult, and I’m very glad I remembered to do so (eventually...) because you’re great. From the bottom of my heart, thank you, from both Rey the college sophomore and Andra the high school sophomore.
Charlie @electricshoop : (cw sickness? sorry this one is so dark) Hey Charlie, I’m going to take off my Trying To Be A Cool Adult Mutual hat and try in vain to tell you how much you impacted my life. I discovered your W359 fic when I was in the toughest semester of my life-- second semester of junior year of high school. I came down with mononucleosis, strep throat, and gastroenteritis all in a two-month span but couldn’t stay home for any of it because of how obsessive my Public Magnet (TM) high school was. It was also the first time in my life (sadly far from the last) that my genetic chronic stress-induced insomnia showed up to say hi. And your fic meant the world to me. I remember lying on my bed at my dad’s house, my dad who was never home and never talked to me, and reading about Warren and Jaime, reading your POV Outsider on SI5 and your wonderful wonderful Cutter and Pryce. I remember drawing Rachel for you when I literally couldn’t talk for weeks on end due to the throat damage from being sick. I reread your fics over and over and over again, frequently at times when I was crying or lonely or in pain. You have no idea how much you helped me then. And even now as I writer I think your work impacted me profoundly-- I’m still obsessed with POV Outsider and horrible awful people and liars and the friends who watch them descend into villainy. When you got all that shitty harassment and wound up deleting I was DISTRAUGHT. I’m so so glad that I found your new blog (and that I’m not longer a cringey highschooler-- cringey college student is much better) and that I’ve gotten to know you a bit not just as a creator of content I love but as someone who is funny and kind and smart and whom I’m really, really rooting for in life!! The world is really rough right now. I hope to God it gets better for you, because you deserve it, and no matter how long I make this paragraph and how many run-on sentences I write, I will never be able to express to you how much joy you have brought me.
Chris @mxlxdroit : Hey Chris-- fortunately this isn’t goodbye for real, which I’m very glad of. You’re the only friend I made through Cosmere and I’m so glad we wound up talking. You’re practical, level-headed, intelligent, caring, and overall just a wonderful person. I would trust you in a crisis and I have a deep respect for how kindly and considerately you treat other people. I think you have such an incredible and wonderful future ahead of you, and the exciting thing is I have no clue in what direction. There are so many cool things you could do. Personally, I think you would be a very good professional assassin, but that’s just my ten cents. Love you so much and thank you for all the wonderful chats <3
Claudio @yebaiyis : Ohhhhh Claudio come dovrei dirti quanto ti adoro? Provo a scriverlo in italiano perché mi sembra giusto di finire la nostra amicizia di fandom nella stessa maniera che l’abbiamo comminciata. Ho tantissimi belli ricordi di parlare con te, di ascoltare la musica e raccontare barzellette. Mi fa cosi’ content° di sapere che ci vedramo un giorno faccia a faccia. Ho detto a Nonno l’altro giorno che quando posso andare nell’Italia, voglio andare a Torino per fare cose con il mio amico che vive li’. Lui ha detto che anche potresti venire a Milano-- spero cosi’ che succederà nel futuro vicino. Magari quest’estate se la legga sarà modificata. Sei intelligente, capace, e un leader naturale, e sono stra content° di essere oh i give up im just gonna pick a gender di essere il tuo amico. Ti amo, Alessandra no no wrong one fuck sorry the italian made me forget my name. Ti amo, Rey
Cristina @inhumansandwiches : Cristina, it’s weird for me to write this out, because I think of you as one of my favourite mutuals, but as I’m writing this I realise we’ve pretty much never talked. That was entirely a vibes-based estimation, which says AWESOME things about your vibes. You’ve been such a delight to have on my dash and in my notifs-- the questions you’ve asked me have all been so interesting to look into and have inspired fascinating avenues of research for me. I don’t know anything about Supernatural but I love your Supernatural posts too. I’m gonna really miss seeing you around. Have a WONDERFUL life <3 <3 <3
Daisy @daisyydaisyydaisyy : When you reached out to me, I was sitting on my bathroom floor crying. You completely turned my mood around, and I cannot thank you enough. I was a complete stranger and you saw I was in pain and you reached out. That speaks volumes about who you are as a person-- you deserve the absolute world and I firmly believe you are one of those people who improves people’s lives just by brushing up against them for a moment, because you certainly did that for me. You should be truly proud of your kindness, and I hope people are kind to you in return. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
Eka @eyesovertheforest : Eka, you’re a delight, you’re a charm, you’re smart, you’re nice, you’re funny, you make fun of me for the surprising regularity with which I bring up cannibalism, you’re a great artist, you’re kind to people, and overall you’re just an absolute gem of a person. What more is there to say? Love you so much, thrilled I’ll see you around :)
Ellian @pendraegon : Oh, Ellian, oh my God, how do I tell you how much you mean to me? You’re one of my best friends in the world and you’re such an amazing person. I truly think you are going to do amazing things in the world. I don’t know what-- it could be teaching, it could be writing, it could be murder, who knows, ya know? You joke about Professor Ellian but I think you would be a wonderful professor. You’re eloquent, thoughtful, supportive, and pour your all into everything you love. You told me once that people around you dismiss you as the chaotic person, and this has confused me ever since. You’re so smart. I feel like everything you look at, you take and hold in your mind and turn it over and look at it this way and that. I know I used this word before, but if I had to pick a term to describe you, it would be thoughtful. You have so much good to bring the world. You’re going to help so many people, and I know this because of how much you’ve helped me. I’m so grateful for the time, support, and advice you’ve given me. You’re an invaluable addition to the universe. I’m still lowkey convinced you’re going to realise I’m not cool enough to be your friend XD You’re so awesome and I’m very happy that you’re enjoying your grad class-- I think life is all going to work out for you, but it better start working out sooner rather than later or I’m going to attack it with my fists and teeth and feet. I love you so much.
Em @to-many-towered-camelot : Em, THANK GOD the fandom has you. Your posts are comprehensive, well-researched, and really important. Your passion for accessibility and inclusion shines through in everything you do-- be it writing about Arthuriana or chatting. You talk about things it’s important to talk about, and moreover you talk about them in a way that makes them applicable to everyday life rather than just fandom. You are level-headed, intelligent, passionate, and caring, and the fandom is so much better off for having you in it.
Finny @itonje : Finny, my number one thing I want to say to you is I hope so desperately that life is easier on you soon. You deserve it so much. I’m so, so sorry that things have been rough recently. I want to tell you all the things that are awesome about you: you are incredibly thoughtful! Your posts display a deep consideration and intelligence on so many different topics. They’re also super funny and well-written. I’ve said it before, but if I see a bestseller in a few years by someone named Agravano I won’t be surprised. Your art is wonderful, your poetry is wonderful, and overall I just want you to know that I think you have such an awesome future ahead of you with so many great opportunities. High school fucking sucked for me and college has been way better even with the pandemic-- really, really, it gets better. I hope the better is soon. <3 <3 <3
Grace @regicidal-optimism : I don’t know if we’ll talk again, and I want to take the opportunity to tell you the things I love about you. You’re deeply level-headed and very open-minded. You care about how to be kind to others and have an admirable dedication to listening to other points of view. You’re methodical, intelligent, and very creative. The appreciation you have for people seeps into everything you create and makes it better. I wish you the best <3
Huberto @notfromcold : H!!!! Oh my God, you’re so nice. You’ve reached out to me a couple times when I’m in really rough places, and I appreciate it so much. You’re smart, kind, and overall I really just hope the world treats you better soon. You deserve it. Much love and wonderful wishes, Rey.
Ilaria @lucrezianoin : Ilaria, we’ve chatted on and off a few times, and you’ve been nothing but lovely. Thank you for the conversations we’ve had and the perspectives and opinions you’ve given me. Your blog is a blessing and I think maybe the first Arthurian blog I followed? Thank you so much for existing, I’m so glad life has been going a bit better recently. Wishing you the absolute best <3 <3 <3
Jay @kiwibirdlafayette : Jay, fortunately you’re not on Tumblr very much either, so I write this in full confidence we’ll still interact over Instagram-- you are SO COOL. Your deep passion for things that I’ve always really loved but assumed no other American teenager loved makes me SO happy. It’s been lovely to discover that not only are there people my age into Flying Circus, but also they’re way more into Flying Circus than I am, which is good because Flying Circus is worth it. It makes me so happy to see your art and jokes and thoughts and overall to watch you having so much fun. Beyond your enthusiasm, you’re an incredible talented artist and HOLY CRAP YOU’RE A GOOD MUSICIAN?? YOU PLAY LIKE FIVE INSTRUMENTS JAY?? HOLY CRAP?? Anyway you are just a gift to the world and so talented and kind, and I’m so happy to have met you.
James @naked-in-the-dark : Hey James! You were my most recent mutual, so if that gets a prize, tada!!! So sad I’m dipping before we got to actually chat, because you seem super cool, but I’m sure Lou will keep me updated if you attack any more transphobes with swords (metaphorical or otherwise). Wishing you the best <3
Jess @jcbookworm : I think we should get married and run away and be assassins together. I think we should start an illegal bookstore that’s a front for crimes. I think we should get a cottage together in the Scottish highlands where we murder strangers who come to our door (no reference intended). Jokes aside, you’re such a bright light in my life. I’m so so thankful we talk on Discord, because I would be absolutely heartbroken to say goodbye for real. You’re just SO nice. You make me laugh, you say smart things and kind things and funny things, and you’re overall an absolute gift of a human being. God bless you for gracing the world with your existence.
Jo @notasapleasure : Jo, you’re one of the people I am saddest to say goodbye to. You’re just such a wonderful person. Everything you do is so cool-- you literally started learning Georgian because you got inspired from a movie!!! That’s so badass!!! Holy crap!!! You went out of your way to help me find Home Service’s first album, and you have no idea how happy that made me. I promised you I would record my McNulty Family record and I swear the day I figure out how to do that I will drop a link in your askbox :) You’ve been such a bright, kind, intelligent, and supportive figure in my tumblr experience and I am immensely grateful. I wish you all the happiness in the world.
Jon @knightbird : We haven’t talked much, but you’ve been a lovely addition to the Arthurian fandom in the time I’ve been here. You’re thoughtful, intelligent, and super enthusiastic. I appreciate the level of consideration you take to everything you do. Thank you for existing.
Julian @maybemorrigan : Julian, oh my god, what can I say? You’re funny, you’re smart, you’re gorgeous, and you are just plain cool. I feel like we’ve been mutuals for ages but that’s because I forgot I hadn’t followed you for like months on end. I just kind of assumed we were mutuals because we interacted but I flat-out forgot I never pressed the follow button. I think this is really funny and should show you I think you’re so fucken awesome. Very very glad we have the means to stay in touch-- you’re seriously cool and I’m delighted to have gotten to know you.
Juliet @julietsartcorner : I distinctly remember that maybe six months ago Lou said to me “the final accomplishment of participating in the Arthurian fandom is befriending Juliet Julietsartcorner.” This is absolutely true, and also I’m sure is going to sound a little odd to you, but your presence in my notifs over the last year has been a lovely and reassuring constant. Your art is TERRIFIC and I adore your Guinevere, but also-- I want you to know that even if we never talked, the fact that you listened and left me little supportive likes when I was in emotional hell? That meant a lot. I hope you know that at least one stranger has been made happier for your existence, which is a pretty incredible feat if you think about it. Thank you, and I wish you the best.
Katherine @erinaceina-blog : Hi!!! We’ve never really talked but you have such excellent vibes and I love your lymond takes. Sending you so many warm wishes for all your life <3 <3 <3
Kay (1) @stripedroseandsketchpads : Oh gosh, this is a hard one. It’s hard for me to explain to you all the ways in which you have made my life better, and all the reasons you are wonderful. I’ve told you a million times how much of a lifesaver you were my first semester of college-- but you continue to be a lifesaver now. You reach out, you send me awesome art you did and your thoughts about different characters, you send me funny memes and share your enthusiasm and your passion for everything you do. It’s amazing and you’re amazing. You should be so proud of everything you’ve accomplished. I know I’m proud to be your friend.
Kay (2) @kayabiter : Kay, oh my god? Where do I start? You’re literally one of the best friends I’ve made through fandom and it’s so wild to me that our first conversation was about trans Lancelot. Truly that was an auspicious omen. I’m sitting here at a loss for words to express how much you mean to me. You’re so incredibly smart, you’re deeply kind and you care so much about other people. You care about being good to others. You care about nuance, and respect, and bravery. You are so brave. I’m still astounded that you talk to me because you’re OBVIOUSLY too cool to even know my name, much less hang out with me while I’m incoherent at 3 am obsessing over my telescope data. Everything you say about Arthuriana sends me absolutely feral and makes me text Lou immediately going “Kay said this SUPER smart thing and omg isn’t this an awesome point.” I think you have such an incredible grasp of medieval literature and characterization and writing and what makes things compelling. Also an AWESOME taste in music. I genuinely cannot express to you how cool and badass you are and how I think things are going nowhere but up for you. Your opinions are so so interesting and good and I love hearing them and beyond that am so honoured that you share them with me. Much love and you’re LEGALLY required to come hang out if you’re ever in Arizona, Rey <3
Kiera @claudiablack : At the time of writing this part of the post, I’ve been following you for about two weeks, and in those two weeks you have blessed my dash with incredibly good takes about literally everything. Also?? Your carrd is SO aesthetic??? I think you have my favourite of any I’ve seen. Rock on, you’re so cool.
Kim @lachrimae-pavane : Kim, the chances of you seeing this are slim to none, but I think you’re absolutely wonderful. You’re kind, passionate, driven, and overall just one of the most considerate people I’ve met. You care so much for other people and that is such a wonderful, wonderful thing. Thank you for your kindness to me. I love you so much. <3 <3 <3 Also if I ever find the Prose Yvain (Pierre Sala has a version) I will send it to you. :)
Lia @animate-mush : Okay, Lia, this is one of the hardest parts of this for me to write, for a few reasons. First, because you don’t have Discord, it does occur to me that this may very well be the last time I talk to you. Second, you have been so amazingly kind in the time I’ve known you. I don’t know how to tell you how much your correspondence has meant to me. I’m a random teenager (well, not anymore, but I feel like I am!) in another state, and you have gone out of your way time after time to look after me and send me things that will cheer me up, to give perspectives on things and overall to reassure me that life is going to be okay. You’re funny, strong, determined, intelligent, and an absolutely amazing photographer. I appreciate you so much and oh no this is the first of these I’ve written where I’ve teared up. I just want you to know how much you have meant to me and how thankful I am. If you ever see a redhead who looks familiar at a Lamplighters’ show, come say hi. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. <3 <3 <3
Libby @princesslibs : Hey Libby, oh my God, I love you so much. You’re talented and smart and determined and brave. You’re going to have so many best-sellers. Your kindness and support mean so much to me, and I’m glad we share so many opinions about dogs. Love you so much, see you on discord <3
Liliet @lilietsblog : Liliet, you were my first ever fandom friend, and I cannot thank you enough. I was a freshman in high school when we were first talking, and you were unfailingly intelligent, enthusiastic, and instilled in me a deep commitment to listening to other points of view in fandom. I think it’s quite likely if I had not had your example to follow, I would not be as careful about discourse as I am today, nor as open-minded about other points of view. Also you’re just super freaking badass?? You’re literally a translator??? Hello? You should be super proud of the person you are, because that person makes the world better. Thank you, and so much love.
Lou @gringolet : I... don’t know where to start. I was debating just saying “whore <3″ because OBVIOUSLY we’re staying in touch, we literally have a sleepover planned for next week. But I want to take this opportunity to be gushy and annoying, because-- yeah, you are a tumblr friend! We met through fandom! So here goes a vain attempt to try to explain how much you mean to me. I cannot express to you how much better you make the world at large and my world as well. Last night, I was in the car with Mum when the song Johnnie Cope by Ceolbeg came on. It instantly transported me back to last March/April-- that was the song I listened to obsessively at that time, and also the song I was supposed to do my ballet final to, except that I broke my toe ten minutes before filming. Hearing that song sent me back to that time, and it’s so odd to look back on the period when I was first beginning to befriend you and the rest of RT, back when I didn’t know where any of it would go-- and when I didn’t know where fandom would go. No matter how much stress fandom brought me, and even if nothing else good had come of it (which is absolutely not the case, I mean, look at all these cool people I got to talk to!) it would have been worth it to meet you. It’s hard for me even to explain to you how wonderful you are, and in what ways, because it seems so obvious and absolute to me. I think the best way to put it is: talking to you does not take energy. Talking to you gives me energy. For nearly everyone in my life, talking is something that leaves me happier than I started but also more tired. But that’s not the case with you. I talk to you and I end up both happier and with my social energy replenished. You never annoy me, you never bore me, and I just love you so much. So let me try to give you an eminently inadequate list of things that you should love about yourself. First off, you’re unbelievably brave. You take the most exhausting and debilitating life circumstances with a can-do attitude and a frankly amazing amount of courage. You always stay kind, you never take anything out on those around you, and even when you think you’re being annoying you never are. I treasure your random thoughts and tangents and also your intelligence, of which there is truly a monumental amount. You are rational and kind and move through the world making everything better than you found it. Any problem you approach, you’re able to improve, and I know this because every time I tell you about a problem you give advice that makes it better. You’re so good at so many things and you have such an incredible bright future, and I hope to God I’m there to watch it all happen! If I’m not, because I got murdered, I know you’ll hire Sarah to strip at my funeral. Some day, I hope, you’re going to sit back and realise how many wonderful, wonderful things there are about you, because the number is so high it’s impossible for me even to begin to cover here. I love you so much. I hope you conquer the Arthurian fandom and start an evil monopoly where you oppress anyone who doesn’t like Lancelot. Finally, I want to say-- whore xoxo <3 byyyyyeeee
Lyn @damn-the-quest : Lyn!!!! Lyn oh my god!!! I REFUSE to fall out of touch with you because I treasure your opinions so much!!! I’m so so honoured that you will tell me about your character thoughts and your journey with Arthuriana and your writing ideas!!! And furthermore you have absolutely no idea how much your enthusiasm for Dead in the Abbey meant to me. I am still dumbfounded you wrote that much about it. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. On top of this, you are such a cool person!!! You’re kind and witty and so unbelievably brave. I’m in awe of how brave you are. You deserve the best. <3
Mads (1) @lesbianlanval : Oh my God, Mads, thank God I met you. You’re funny, smart, hot, cool, kind, and to quote Ellian, overall just so easy to talk to. Every time I get a message from you it makes me so happy. I’m absolutely delighted that we have the means to stay in touch not on Tumblr, because I would be truly sad to lose contact with you. Thank you for existing, you make my life better, and some day I hope you come to Arizona so I can throw cacti at you.
Mads (2) @imdulacking : Your art is so, so wonderful. Every single character design has so much detail and thought put into it, and also just so much, like, warmth? Like it always makes me so happy to see your drawings, and the characters look happy, which for me is really hard to do. Also, you’re the backbone of the Sebile/Morgan and Pharien/Claudas fandoms, which is so cool of you. Have an EPIC life, you’ve got so much talent and it’s been a delight to see all your art!
May @tearsofthemushroom : May, hi!!! You are so cool. We haven’t talked in a while, and I really regret that, because I have long thought you are one of the coolest people I’ve met on tumblr. You’re so smart and such an amazing writer, and on top of that you do all sorts of cool hobbies. Thank you for the conversations we’ve had. I hope you have an absolutely wonderful life.
Mika @sleepingfield : The day you left replies on my post, I had slept like 3 hours due to observing and was feeling so alone. Thank you. Really sorry we only followed each other for like two weeks before I dipped XD. You’re really cool and I wish you the absolute best. Also your blog rocks.
Nadia @corywong : I love seeing you on my dash!! For me, tumblr has always been a fandom media second, and a social media first. I only check my dash to leave supportive likes on people’s personal posts, and as weird as it sounds, I’m invested in your life. You deserve happiness and less stress. I really hope you get it. <3
Néide @trans-cuchulainn : I know I’ve told you this ten million times, but you were SUCH an inspiration for me in high school. You are so persevering, bright, intelligent, and capable. You bring such passion to everything you do, be it writing, research, dance, or music. The world is so lucky to have you in it and I am lucky to know you!! You’re going to write so many awesome articles. Really, I believe in your ability to kick ass at whatever you do.
@oldshrewsburyian : I will never forget the day that I logged on to watch you engage in actual Pope discourse. I do not mean that in any way as an insult to you-- that anon was so weird and your response was so wonderful. However the surreality of my dashboard being split between kinnies and academics truly was highlighted on that day. Jokes aside, you’re really out there fighting the good fight with historical approaches. Thank you for being a voice of reason in a world of madness.
@owlsongsandgoblinlaughs : We’ve never talked much, but over the years we have had a few conversations, and they have all been lovely! I know the last couple of years have been kind of rough for you. I really hope they get better soon. I’m sending you so much love. <3
Pan @problematiquefics : Hey Pan? You’re so cool. We’ve talked a couple of times and you’ve been so considerate, smart, and kind. I love the way you approach fandom and I think every fandom is better for having you in it. Have an epic life <3
Reem @stereotypedebunker : Hey Reem! We haven’t talked in ages, but I have so many fond memories of chatting about books back when I was in high school. Thank you for that! I hope you have an absolutely wonderful life, and I’m sending you so many well wishes.
Ruairidh @gwalchemei : Thank god the field of Arthurian Studies has you!! You’re going to kick fucking ass with your dissertation and I’m rooting for you so much. PLEASE let me know where I can read it when it’s done, it’s going to be great. On top of that you’re funny and smart and kind. :D
Sam @raindropsonroses123 : Sam, it’s been a while, but I will always think of you as one of my first fandom friends. You’re funny, cool, smart, and overall I think you have so many awesome things you’re going to accomplish in life. Thank you for everything.
Shelley @wenkexinq : You’re one of my most recent mutuals, and this makes me so sad because I really would have liked to get to know you better! You are so funny, but beyond that you have the most wonderful vibes. It’s so clear from your blog that you’re deeply kind, intelligent, and caring. 10/10 would investigate a haunted graveyard with you at 1 am. Your art is INCREDIBLE and a huge inspiration for me-- I’ve spent so long staring at your art blog to figure out how you shade and colour!!! Your drawings are mesmerizing in the way an oil slick is, with all the light reflecting and refracting, and you should be really proud of it. I’m very glad I’m in a server with you because I would be so sad to lose touch completely!
Sigune @gawaincomic : Hey Sigune, you’re a total badass. Your dissertation sounds so awesome and your art is wonderful. I always enjoy reading your opinions and I deeply appreciate the conversations we’ve had. I wish you the best and I hope life treats you great <3 <3 <3
Skye @invite-me-to-your-memories : Hey Skye. Of all of these things, this one hurts me the most to write, because I don’t know if you’re alive. I’ve wondered about you for the last year or so, because you disappeared suddenly. I really, really hope you’re okay, and on the offchance you come back to tumblr some day and see this, I want to tell you how much you meant to me in high school. You were a Cool Adult: you were kind, funny, smart, and you were looking out for the teenagers in the fandom. I remember our conversations about Lymond, how much we loved Marthe, and how much we made fun of Jerott-- thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for helping to make my teenage fandom years good. I was so lucky to be in the Tiny Fandom, I realised later. No one else I know had as good, safe, and supportive a fandom as teenagers. I think you were a huge part of that, and I hope to God you’re okay, because you are wonderful. Thank you.
Romeo @oh-peacemaker : I cannot express how absolutely hysterical allo-galahads was to me. The edited passage from the Grail Quest made me laugh out loud for like five minutes. You’ve got an awesome sense of humour and obvious wit and intelligence to back it up.
Val(e) @enemyofrome : Hi, I was combing through my mutuals list to make sure I didn’t forget anyone and I saw we were actually mutuals, which really took me aback!!! I’m so honoured. Your books mean the world to me. They are beautifully written, compelling, exciting, funny, and chock-full of characters who come alive in my mind. I’m actually asking some of my friends to follow your writing blog so they can tell me if you release a new book XD. I remember when I was in high school we talked a bit about your characters, and I am so grateful for that and for all the writing you’ve given the world. You will forever have a place of honour on my bookshelf. Thank you.
Val(entine) @lanzelet : Oh, God. Where the hell do I start? You’re one of my best friends in the world. I have so much fun thinking of horrible horrible anons to send you and impersonating your husband. You’re wicked smart, so funny, and you bring an enormous amount of heart to everything you do. You also suffer from the fact that this is the last one of these I’m writing, and I’m very very tired, so no matter how much I try to tell you how amazing you are and how much you mean to me, I will always fall flat. You make my dashboard so much fun and the best thing is that you’re even cooler on the phone and such, so the amount of coolness you must bring to the table in person may be too much to handle. Oh, God, I’m incoherent. I love you. I’ll see you in August. I’ll hit you with a cactus. I’ll facetime Violet and hit you with a cactus while she watches. I’m absolutely losing it, oh no. You’re so nice to me and so supportive and you have no idea how much I appreciate your friendship. Thank god you exist, Val. My life is so much better for having you in it.
Val(erin) @valerin-berenghar : Val, you run the best server I’ve ever seen. Holy crap! It’s so well-organized and the energy is so good and positive. You’re also a wonderful writer, a kind and considerate person, and full of awesome ideas for making fandom better. I’m going to buy so many copies of your book when it comes out. Thanks for everything <3 <3 <3
Val(kyrie) @sodrippy : Hey Val, I know we’re not mutuals, but making this list felt wrong without telling you I think you’re awesome. I see you around so much and we’ve interacted enough that I didn’t want to leave tumblr without telling you your gifs are lovely, your jokes are funny, and your presence is always a delightful one on my dash. Have a great day :)
Vicky @elayneofshalott : We never interacted much, but I get the impression you and I are kindred souls in terms of our passion for sharing resources XD. It’s lovely to know that you will make sure the Arthurian fandom still has access to helpful, comprehensive lists of texts, articles, and primary sources. Your art is AMAZING, and you should be really proud of it. I wish you the best and, if you wind up going to college for anything related to Arthurian stuff, I really recommend you look into a free membership with the International Arthurian Society, because of all the people I’ve interacted with on here I think you would enjoy it the most.
Violet @ysolt : Violet, I’m SO glad that Val introduced us. You’re so funny and smart and have such an awesome attitude towards life in general. You’re both matter-of-fact and positive-- you have the vibes of, like, an action girl protagonist in a YA novel who overthrows the corrupt government. I’m very glad I’m not going to lose touch with you when I leave tumblr. So much love!
Waew @bellaroles : Oh, God, Waew, this one really hurts to write-- you’ve been a part of my tumblr experience for about as long as I can remember. Your art, your gentle sense of humour, and your good vibes have all made the Lymond fandom an incredible place. I’m so grateful for your presence on my dash for the last-- I don’t know how long. Five years? Six years? Thank you. You have made my life better and your art has brought me incredible joy. I wish you all the best.
Yvain @yy20 : I really, really hope this is not the last time we talk, because you are SO cool. You’re one of my favourite mutuals-- you’re so funny, smart, and all around incredibly supportive and nice. I appreciate so much the extent to which you’ve reached out, and every interaction I’ve had with you has made me so happy. You’re also an INCREDIBLE artist, like, holy shit? The way you use colours astounds me every time. Oh my god. You should be so proud of who you are and of everything you do, because it’s all a gift to the world and to everyone around you. You make the world better. Love you so much, Rey <3
Zaki @gwentron : Hey Zaki? You’re so cool. You are simultaneously the coolest person in the Merlin fandom AND the coolest person in the Arthuriana fandom. Your love for Gwen brings me so much joy. I think you’re kind, funny, smart, and an awesome presence in the world. Also, I WILL finish the Guinevere Reader someday and upload it to my Illegal Arthuriana Wordpress Website (TM). That’s a promise.
93 notes · View notes
daddyjackfrost · 7 months ago
Hi bestie😚 32 + Kuroo if the prompt thing is still open?👀
zaire!! hi bestie 😙😙 it was open when you requested so yes!
prompt 32: “i don’t need your protection.”
warnings: uh. party scene? oh, an unwanted male approaches reader and ‘begs’ her to dance, use of the word ‘dick’ (crack? fluff? idk man)
Tumblr media
If you had known that you would be surrounded by sweaty teenagers, terrible drinks, and hell bearing music, you would have slammed the door on Kuroo’s face when he asked you to come tonight.
Speaking of Kuroo, your dark haired friend was nowhere to be seen. He had dragged you to this party--which he said was a small hangout-- and then ditched you.
You stood in the kitchen near the only open window in the whole house. With you back against the sink counter, you scrolled through random apps to pass time. It’s not that you hated parties, you enjoyed them, but only when they were enjoyable. 
There was nothing enjoyable about college parties on Friday nights.
You brought you red glass to your lips and took a long sip. Luckily, you had found mango juice in the fridge and that’s all you’ve been drinking.
“Hey, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”
You blinked at the slightly familiar voice and then looked up from your phone. Standing in front of you was p/g/n and you sighed. With the slight flush in his cheeks and the dazed look in his eyes, you knew he was wasted. 
You raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s quite hurtful since we’ve had four classes together this year.”
He blinked at you and then grinned at you. His pearly white teeth and dimples were enough to let you know that he was definitely not going home alone tonight. 
“Hey! You’re y/n!” He laughed before taking a sip from his glass. “I knew you looked familiar.”
You let out a small laugh. It was always interesting to see usually composed people indulge in toxicated behaviour. 
“Hey,” he looked at you with a smirk, “you wanna dance?”
Although your heart slightly fluttered, you politely shook your head. “Thanks, but I’m alright.”
He frowned, blinking a few times. “Come on,” he tried again, “just one dance?”
This time, you shook your head and crossed your arms. “No, I’m okay.”
He took a step forward and used his free hand to grab the counter. He leaned in and you could smell the alcohol. “Don’t be a buzzkill.”
Having enough, you pushed him away and walked past him. You walked into the living room that looked more like a rave than anything else. Music and chatter made it hard to hear and bodies pressed against each other like space was an unwelcome privilege. You looked around the room, hoping to see anyone you knew.
You spotted Kenma’s jacket and quickly made your way over. You could hear p/g/n calling out to you and you groaned. You were so going to beat Kuroo up when you saw him.
Just as you grabbed Kenma’s jacket from the sofa, a hand latched on your elbow and tugged you back. 
Confused, you looked back, but narrowed your eyes when you saw p/g/n. 
You tried to get him to let go of your elbow but he had a steel grip. “Dude, let go of me. I don’t wanna dance, ask anyone else!”
Before he could respond, rough hands pushed him off you. He stumbled back and gentle hands steadied you by the shoulders. You smelled familiar cologne and silently sighed in relief. Kuroo stood behind you, staring down p/g/n.
P/g/n brushed off his shoulders and looked up with a glare but his glare dropped when he saw Kuroo. He let out a sleazy grin, putting out his fist for Kuroo to bump. “Kuroo! My guy, what’s up?”
You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he probably looked unimpressed. Kuroo’s hand didn’t move off your shoulders, and his grip tightened when he heard p/g/n address him like a friend.
“You should probably stop touching people and begging them to dance when they don’t want too.”
Kuroo’s low and deadpan voice made p/g/n frown. He dropped his fist and let out an awkward laugh as to play off Kuroo’s words.
Kuroo then used your shoulders to guide you back into the kitchen. Once you two were away from p/g/n and all the people, Kuroo let go of you and took a step back, his eyes looking up and down your body to check for injuries. 
You took this time to admire him. Kuroo wore simple black jeans and a red shirt with a bomber jacket. He looked like every boy ever, but somehow, Kuroo made it work. 
“You alright?”
You rolled your eyes, taking a sip from your drink. You knew that Kuroo was getting the niceness out of the way so he could make fun of you later.
“Yeah, Tetsuro, I’m fine.”
Kuroo crossed his arms, his black hair falling over his forehead. “You should’ve came and found me, y/n.”
At this, you let out a loud laugh. Kuroo stared at you, biting his lips to prevent laughing so he could seem serious, but you could see his grin.
You slightly tilted your head at him. “I don’t need your protection, Tetso. You can drop the manly act.”
You could tell that he almost did, but instead, Kuroo just raised an eyebrow at you and took a step forward. “Yeah? And what would you have done if I hadn’t pushed him off?”
You smiled. “Kicked him in the dick, probably.” You watched as Kuroo’s eyes widened slightly and how he took a small step back. You grinned at him and put your glass on the counter.
“Do you want me to demonstrate?”
Immediately, Kuroo shook his head and dropped the act. He slowly started walking backwards away from you and you winked at him, slightly swinging your leg.
“Leave me and my dick alone!”
Tumblr media
taglist: @h-grangerstudies @elektrosonix @snoozless @ackerpotato @asterroidd @rinrinniesstuff @howcanyoubreathewithnozaire @bokuatsubro @literaleftist @megumeee @aghashiii @fail-big @oracleofdin
requests are closed.
87 notes · View notes
hhjs · a year ago
Tumblr media
summary ➝ "I don't get it." You cock your head to the side and investigating the painting at your feet with an obstinate want to understand how it's supposed to depict love. "It just looks like they slapped on paint."
"Look here, dummy!" He slaps your pointer finger jokingly, grumbling under his breath.  Taking your palm and slowly splaying out the digits. Traces the rough pads against its silky texture, a map to somewhere, a blend of blue and pink, silhouettes reaching out for each other when the world intends to tear them apart.
You sigh, contentedly and think this must be it; because never was love meant to be understood.
It was meant to be felt.
word count ➝ 16.6k words.
alternatively➝ university premise.
genre ➝ angst, romance??? comedy??? a smidge of drama??? idk
pairings➝ han jisung. x fem reader.
warnings ➝ recreational drinking, use of profanity, suggestive.
note➝ i suspect that i have a vague emotional attachment to this. Please note that it used to be a jeonghan fic originally but is now rewritten.  i've been toying around with my writing style, idk if this has met what's expected :c but... this piece is a proper example of the idiots to lovers trope. 
a huge thanks to @emhpathy​ for beta-reading. 
 also i felt indolent and didn’t edit. :(
loosely based on the Coldplay song in question, ‘A Message’.
The air smells like seasalt. Like having a foamy blanket of  waves draped over your face until you let go, slowly, let all the air leave your lungs. 
In the distant rhythm of the rattling wind, you can barely hear the ring of childish laughter. It's an old bicycle Minho last rode when he was 13. Jisung's driving too fast. But you don't care, you don't care because you feel just so alive. You can feel your heart on your tongue. Under your fingertips. Inside your chest.
You can't believe it's true. Can't believe this is your life. Can't believe you're real.
The city is a haze of blue and yellow and red. Jisung slows down by the sidewalk, leaning into the wash of colours and it  stains the side of his face a little. The breeze is caressing his hair. Patting stubborn gelled strands out. His shoulders rise and fall with every little movement, upwards and downwards. When he breathes in and when he breathes out. Everything seems to slow down. Every second feels like a minute. Every minute like an hour.
 Then suddenly- and it surprises you a little - Jisung pauses, cranes his neck back to smile at you. It's lopsided, toothy. He looks so much younger. Suddenly, so utterly boyish. You commit the sight to memory, the sliver of his teeth, the glint in his eyes, the curl of his mouth -
You hope you never forget this.
 Because this is how you know. This is how you've always known.
You wouldn't change anything. Even if you could go back.  
Not for a second. Not when it hurt. Not when it was hard.
Not even once.
Bach's  Toccata & Fugue in D Minor. 
You're in your bedroom, you can hear the music in your head, the crescendos and diminuendos, the feather light piano, the strum of a guitar and the gargling of a trumpet, fingers buzzing with an intense desire to write it all down. But then the sound of an organ rips through the air, the curtains pull apart. Your bedroom floor gives away from under your feet. There is a stage, there is an audience impatiently staring up at you, watching you, measuring you and you don't know what to say.
So you run, run, run home.
You remember standing in front of your mum's bedroom. Knocking. When she lets you crawl back under the covers and she runs a caressing hand down your back, you say nothing. (There seems to be a gaping hole in your chest. And you don't understand it. Like something's missing.) . When she traces the shape of your jaw and says trouble sleeping? you say nothing. Then the rain pelts the windows, the curtains are  pulled; suddenly it's so much darker, so much colder, you place a hand over your heart and then look up at her, up to her large, concerned eyes and say, "It hurts."
 But it's okay. It's okay. You'll forget all about it by tomorrow morning.  Because your mum smells like home, like the earth after it rains. It's okay because the world is less scary when you're a kid. When you don't understand.
 Then you're on a train, it skids against its tracks and your hand hurts from holding onto the handle for too long. You hold your draft against your ribs.There are too many people. Shoulders. Heads. Standing. Sitting. Their lives are different. Even when they're together. 
From here, you can make out a woman stroking her toddler's cheek, a teenager with a copy of A Tale Of Two Cities in hand, a tall man, with his head hung low. He is smiling down at his lover. His fingers splay against her throat. She is looking at him. They say nothing. 
 She stands on her toes and kisses him. And something inside you suddenly comes alive, an absence, tries to gnaw its way out of your ribcage. Tries to tell you I've never left. 
The train finds itself in the belly of a tunnel. Outside, it's so much darker. So much colder. There's a blinking streetlight ahead. Yellow and lime green. It must have been raining. You don't know your stop.     
All the world’s a stage and all the men and women merely players. This is a stage. 
The passengers are impatiently staring up at you, watching you, measuring you and you don't know what to say. You can't run this time.
(You need to get out of here. You need to get out of here. You need to get out of here. This city. Something is missing. Something is wrong. You need to get away.)
Now you wait for a room. A door. A bed. And miss your mother with an intensity that's akin to taking a punch to the gut. You don't remember what the earth smells like anymore. Everything in the city is platform and concrete. And soot rising from tall  chimneys.
Suddenly, you can't believe childhood is over.
Spurts of light found themselves against the hallway ceiling, you wondered how long you'd been thinking about that nightmare for it to take so much of your attention. A mic involuntarily roars to life, reminding you that you were still at the varsity and you had to find Jisung. 
Which sounds easy, had it not been for your history with him. Avoiding him was getting progressively hard a task to maintain because you were in the same department, sharing minor courses that prompts you to think that nothing much had changed and you'd be lying if you said you mind. He is a stubborn page which keened on flipping over in the youthful chapters of your life, refusing to be left behind and some part of you is too scared to know what would happen if you had.
You sigh, looking at the clock nailed to one of the pale yellow pillars and then close your eyes to try to ease the tension in your shoulders. Breathing in. Breathing out.  This morning, you put on a thin cotton dress but the humidity had somehow prompted it to appear somewhat translucent.
Summer brushes up against the back of your neck, you rub your eyes vigorously, placing your sweaty palms on them, dapples of light settled atop  the lids. Coating the little twists of purplish veins pink and white, becoming brighter and brighter and brighter. Any minute now and you would muster up the courage to face him.
You push the field door open.
Football players for the born-again team are loitering about in the heavily populated room, expectants look on most of their faces. You begin to feel twice as much nervous than you did before. 
See, the possibility of stuttering nonsensical sentences and potentially embarrassing yourself in front of Jisung and nameless strangers, again, wasn't the most thrilling idea for you but if you don't make the deadline this time on this group assignment, you'll fail your linguistics course, so it  would be tough to bounce back from for the both of you.
The coach, who is a lanky man, with an alarmingly ruddy face and tufts of snow white hair spiralling out of his head, experienced a lot of difficulty blowing it away from his line of sight. With the  door held back, pressing a curious looking opaque board to his chest, he scans the entirety of the team with an owlish stare, when he was satisfied with the number of persons attending, he stepped in.
"Game starts in 10 minutes." he pauses, allowing the candidates to settle in. A feet away from you, Changbin produces a series of garbled profanities before going back greedily guzzling down the rest of his gatorade.
Once the coach clears his throat, his beady eyes travelling from one curious face to another, flitting between each person, it finds you briefly then it darts curiously across the scenery behind you, as though an explanation for your presence is out there somewhere, waiting to be discovered.
You hold the assignment packet against your chest, feeling the weight of gel blue letters under the rough pad and then slowly fold it open.
Han jisung. You tell him, that's who I'm looking for. 
It takes you awhile to navigate your gaze to the owner of the name amidst the maze of students huffing and puffing about schedules and missing lectures and deadlines, some shouldering their way out in bored frowns, some smiling excited smiles, rushing to grab a suitable seat. Like a blur of faces you catch on the subway and eventually forget, the little snippets of another person's life. Glimpses of them from car windows pressed together in traffic, just a few seconds before the light turns green. One minute you think you know them, put yourself in their shoes and imagine their life for them and the next, you go back to being strangers. 
To you, Jisung's face is an unmistakable, unforgettable kind of face. 
Taunting you from posters of his many swim team accomplishments, under which his name stood in big bold yellow letters, plastered on the noticeboards, on the  walls where the paint was starting to crack. The search didn't prove to be very difficult even though he didn't stick out like a sore thumb without his signature bleached blonde hair.
A varsity jacket is discarded on his body. Under the blue and yellow fabric, Jisung's chest rises and falls with every breath, his lanky legs perched up on the bleachers.  You wonder how he managed to doze off in the face of all this tension about getting clocked in face with a football. 
Aside from by accident, you were positive he hadn't tried to speak to you ever since your previous, unspeakably embarrassing encounter. 
That was a long time ago. 
It was certain that had it not been for this assignment, things between you would remain that way. In spite of this, you've gathered, because people never stop fawning over this prominent character, that not much has changed since you were in school.
Jisung managed to secure an attention drawing position wherever he went and upperclassmen wanted to be his friend even though he mostly indulged only in his own company. 
His head rests on folded arms, his foot is propped up on his knee, which he keeps shaking.  Sunlight crawls up the expanse of his exposed cheek, allowing burnt orange to  bathe half of his face, ribbons of liquid light tapering to smudges down the side of his jaw and disappearing.
Jisung has a boyish face, his eyes are big and kiddish, paired with a sharp nose and a convenient, small, pinkish mouth inherently pouted out to accentuate his puffy squirrel like cheeks but slimming down around his jaw. His raven hair falls in sleek, wet tufts clinging to his forehead and grazing his rosy cheeks, giving him a strange resemblance to a cherub loitering around in the real world.
Come to think of it, Jisung looks, like he invariably does, just slightly out of place.
You drop your bag on the grass. The action makes an unexpected thump. His eyes stir  faster behind closed eyelids, as though he were stirring awake from an ardently produced dream, like a newborn baby, divorced from the worries of the world. Jisung opens one of his eyes, then another, glaring confusedly, his lips pursed in unspoken surprise.
What's the big deal, right? At best, he'll start cooperating with you. At worst, you imagine, he'll toss you across the field for disrupting his sleep.
Of course, no one in their right minds would opt for the latter option, the rational part of you reasons - but you show him the packet,  just for safety measures.
"I thought we ought to go over how we're going to work around this assignment and you weren't in class so..."  You explain. When Jisung just blinks up at you in a curious fashion, you consider that he might not recognise you at all, that, for some reason, bothers you. "You probably don't remember me I-"
"I remember." He interjects firmly, acknowledging you with a fluent utterance of your name that gives you enough evidence of his claim, followed by a watchful, stoic gaze, he motions for you to take a seat beside him. 
You hesitantly sit at the end of the row,  keeping a calculated distance between your bodies. You find that even after all this time looking him in the eye was just as unnerving as it had been the first time they shyly flickered back to yours from across a thick spined A levels Calculus textbook. There's still an intimidating air about him, something that seeks to be constantly impressed without asking to.
Jisung sits up straighter, setting both his legs on either side of the bench, he keeps his gaze trained on your face, not looking away once. "Go on." He suggests, his voice low, "What do we have to do?"
You perk up at this, taking the contents out of the packet. Setting them down before you, you reiterate the instructions rendered in class, trying to include every important detail which contributes to the making of the project.
"We have to attach a PowerPoint part too." You paused, "Let's do that bit today."
Jisung listens intently, never cutting you off, he nods occasionally, making suggestions when you were trying to look for suitable loops in your schedules to work on the scheme, you recommended  several premises, ranging from cafés to parks to libraries to food courts, even your place because it's the closest from Jisung's flat and he refuses go beyond the distance on a Sunday morning. You casually let in the fact that your flatmate would be there in order to insinuate that you hadn't made the offer because of your previous feelings for him.
 You sigh, taking a minute to stretch back and take a deep breath. The bench is cool under your thighs, soft caresses of a warm summer breeze brushing the hair from your face away, pale yellow pours from the canopies, staining the grass, football players prepping in the distance, their zealous partners egging them on with excited smiles, shouting encouragements from the other end of the court.  You imagine lying down on the grass, spreading your arms out and not having a care about anything.
"You still wear that bracelet." 
"What?" You yawn, brows furrowed in confusion. You look at him from the corner of your eyes,  finding that his brown orbs motion to the source of comment, they dart from your cheek to your wrist, where surely the platinum accessory is tied to its loosest hoop, it used to be your go-to add-on in school. 
Surprised, you touch the item briefly, before retracting your hand slowly. All you can think is he remembers, he really remembers,  "...Yeah."
Instead of running about playgrounds with a mouthful of kiddish laughter and building cartoonishly  architectured sandcastles, you remember spending most of your childhood with your nose dug deep inside a fairytale, splurging much time on committing the glide of milky pages to memory, eyes widening, face twisting with each vicissitudes of emotions that would come over you with each stage of exploring a story. It was your own little world, a catharsis for all that you were holding inside, a window you could crack open and when the real world felt stuffy. 
Fancying Jisung was, your younger self imagined, fantastical, like something out of those fairytales.
You don't know when you started liking him, maybe it was the first time you saw him. It was your last year in school and Jisung's unfamiliar face was a new sight against the fuzzy background of sleepy students pouring into the hallway, it was the kind that demanded to be noticed, even though he simply  looked bored with an enormous pair of headphones looped around his thin neck.
Jisung was born to go through life being the embodiment of an all rounder, now that you think about it, there's not a thing he wasn't good at, always  having a proclivity to outshine others.
 He was a transfer student with stellar grades in spite of mostly routing his interest  towards composing  obscure music you'd found floating about the net. In all honesty, he truly was the master of all trades and the jack of none and every room was a keeper of attention, enveloped in an intangible but unanimous, wordless veil of interest towards the new character.
But  maybe it wasn't as theatrical as you remembered; maybe it was the love at  first sight nonsense, maybe it wasn't something you realised overnight, out of the blue, maybe it all happened at a slow, infuriating pace, maybe you started liking him for the small, stupid and unimportant things, like when you dropped your pen, the thin stick rolling away between your desks and he picked it up, flicking it between his fingers curiously, carefully curling his fingers around the metal, observing it before putting it back on your desk, maybe it was in class, when he zoned out in class, not bothering to look apart until he realised it had caught your attention, he then blinked away, the rosy hue of his cheeks more prominent with each passing second,  maybe it was when you were sure you were about to flunk the history pop quiz and Jisung whispered the names of warriors and poets and the fallen while keeping his gaze firmly poised on his paper.
You were so shy, cloistered, intensely egregious and he kept seeking you out in some new manner, causing you to be an element of mild interest not only amongst your peers but also people who actively seeked his romantic interest.  Although, conversations  on your part never stretched beyond differentiation and stealing cautious glances at one another, (which wasn't a shocker because you didn't know how to compute a chat with him and Jisung was unusually timid for someone who acquainted himself with well known rambunctious personalities), you genuinely enjoyed his company.
So you obliged. Even though it was utterly improper and you were sure he liked someone on the cheer squad. It was just that you were a kid and you wanted to wear your heart on your sleeve just once before tucking it away forever.
He poked his head out from the water, wordlessly upon hearing his name, looking at you with a cocked brow and you were quick to say it, like you had to before you ended up changing your mind, it took a lot of courage to mutter a simple confession after all,  in spite of the fact you didn't at all picture him reciprocating, whisking you off of your feet with a wide grin, in a grand affirmation of all the rubbish pop culture has spoon fed you. 
It was a stereotypical teeth rotting, sweet crush that bound you to want to be around Jisung in a way he didn't, something lodged deep inside of you, the same thing that was childish and clung onto its fairy tales for dear life, hoped that he would share the same feelings, in spite of knowing it was undoubtedly unrequited. 
 Jisung had an indecipherable look on his face, he parted his mouth to say something but paused as if looking for the right words.  He simply settled with a sigh, before lowering his body down into the pool. You replayed the scene over and over again for the rest of senior year, until it drove you to a point of absolute insanity. You even considered googling what a sigh was supposed to convey, if fishing through dictionaries wasn't going to tell.
That was notably the last time you spoke in school.
But your strained relationship stayed with you like an embarrassing tattoo  and in trying desperately to  conceal it, afraid someone would see too much, know too much, you would only make it more apparent. 
You had to push him away to the farthest corner of your mind so you didn't have to wonder anymore, didn't have to interpret every action like your life depended on it - because love to you was so immense that it was overwhelming. You've wanted love to rescue you in some way, looked for it in the soft murmur of pages, in the chilling words to a song you can't seem to forget, you've waited for love like an impatient eagle anticipating its opportunity  to leap in and swoop up its shot at satisfying its undying hunger. You needed to uproot those budding feelings before they took abode inside your chest, grew stronger, into something massive, unignorable, something like love.
Avoiding Jisung in hallways, in class and really everywhere was some form of a habit you were developing - but that didn't stop him  from entangling himself with your ponderings; you thought of all the things he did without paying much attention to the act, like his petulant whining when he wanted something he wasn't getting, you thought of the way he tapped his pen against the wooden desk, silently eyeing chalky math problems on the board before uttering the answer with an ease only he could carry, you thought of his petulant front during arguments and how he always ended up winning, you just missed being around him without the added tension - which was funny because you're the one to blame for it. 
To your knowledge, Jisung didn't know to speak in puzzles, even when he didn't want to say something, he always found an agreeable way to deliver it,  often unknowingly wording them as they were, he didn't understand the complexities with which people conversed, needing everything to be black and white, as clear as the summer sky, so everyday felt like he owed you an example of his unintentional transparency, a explanation even though you knew he didn't.  
Maybe that's it, you thought, maybe that's all. 
(Sometimes you would sense his gaze searing into the side of your face, as if he was on the verge of uttering a greeting.
But graduation came along. And you never heard anything from him.)
You began to understand that all those tear jerking, unhappy endings were inevitable, like not being able to take your eyes off the stage during  Giacomo Puccini's Sono Andati, like being exposed to Mimi's excruciating death, losing something you can't put a finger on - and suddenly, the plays, the window, the catharsis wasn't enough, the child in you wanted to scream and  kick and throw, the child in you wanted to forge her own ending, the one that made sense, the one you could anticipate.
Running his palms along the cool glass, Jisung pauses from time to time to look at you, as if expecting you to address the elephant in the room, the same elephant that followed you all the way from campus, to his car, to the café downtown. It wasn't until the waiter went away in the pursuit of getting your order did he pose the inquiry. 
"Do you want to talk about it?" 
You shake your head slowly, a nervous laugh escaping your lips.
 "What's there to talk about? It was a long time ago and I'm over it."
 Saying it out loud like this feels weird, it feels so real and disappointing and embarrassing, you feel reduced to a child coming clean about that one time they tipped over a vase and dusted the debris under the rug he is about to step about on, hoping he wouldn't notice. 
The statement makes you feel guilty, like you're lying. You don't want to know if you really are.
"Well, does that mean we can be friends?" Mutters Jisung against the opening of his straw, sipping miserly as though not wanting to finish the rest of his Americano. He opens his mouth to say something but stops, looking blatantly confused, like that was the only explanation he had for your fallout. "I don't understand." 
Not having thought that far, you stop typing, the click clack of keys muting, Jisung's thick rimmed glasses rest atop the jut of his nose and he's peering over them to look right at you with big wide eyes, genuinely interested in being supplied an answer.  The sixteen year old you would be overwhelmed with bouts of fluster right now. But you stopped being that person a long time ago, in fact, that person is to you a bleary recollection of a mere stranger who you thought you saw somewhere but couldn't put a finger on the location.
Shrugging, unsure, the question comes after a lengthy pause, "I guess it does?"
You sit in temporary silence after the short conversation ends, never going off topic again and giving into irrelevant chats even though Jisung is actively trying to initiate conversation about things which had nothing to do with work. You wonder why, wordlessly admitting that it was getting harder to resist the urge to talk to him with every passing second.
His car was parked a few lanes away from the café so you were obliged to walk after getting through the first portion of the assignment.
"So." Jisung starts, biting the side of his cheek, "What have you been upto lately?"
Talking to Jisung isn't as difficult as your younger self made it to be, he could hold a conversation well, jumping from serious topics to lighter ones to keep the balance, making witty comments here and there that had you laughing without really meaning to and every time, you'd catch a look of satisfaction glinting in his eyes. 
 The pair of you walk by an ice-cream parlour where a short bald man with a perpetually happy  face is handing out samples. A mint green board is attached to the appendage of a stall, outstretching from the original store, it says La Petite Glacière. 
You raise your brows, literal nomenclature.
"Journalism could suit you." The comment is off-handed, a product of you thinking out loud, imagining Jisung running around with a recorder, with his big, friendly eyes, queries posed with an an easy jovial attitude; it's so befitting, you just couldn't help but notify him. Even if it was an involuntary notification. You left out the part where you always pegged his love for composing would eventually materialise instead, this was unexpected to say the least. But Jisung described music as a getaway, something he was willing to do out of passion and not duty.
It was to his credit that he didn't laugh in your face when you said you wanted to be a playwright, specialising solely in the field of fiction. That's one thing he doesn't have in common with your parents. (Who didn't hesitate to point out that it was an obsolete branch of writing.)
"Yeah?" Jisung grins archly, glancing at you, as insinuating the memory of you playing Iago when you were expecting to land Desdemona is still impressed on him. "I could say the same for you."
You only wave him off, rolling your eyes. Some things are better left forgotten.
It's hot and you're really thirsty. You're knee deep in lengthy conversations engineered to catch up with one another, which consisted of ping-ponging inquiries about everything and anything, like how it was moving away from your family and new hobbies and pet peeves and casual strolls down memory lane but then the tension would settle and you would grow awfully quiet, like you're doing something you aren't supposed to, like you're walking into the inviting mouth a ginormous tiger whilst convincing yourself that it won't gobble you up.
"Okay. I have one." you start, he's nodding in encouragement,  "Have you been dating a lot?" 
Jisung laughs at your obvious curiosity, wiping his sweaty forehead with a spare napkin, strolling really fast, long legs promoting his speedy gait, you have to jog from time to time to keep up.
He tilts his head to you, the teasing spark in his eyes glinting knowingly, he becomes shorter and grows taller walking up and down the slopes of the bumpy road.
  Your eyes widen. You were curious! You haven't spoken to him for a long time and you're just catching up. Exactly, you tell yourself,  that's believable, that, you think, makes sense. The other explanation, the one you're deigning to not look in the eye, that a part of you would be disappointed if he had said yes doesn't.
You flounder for a response, something, just a word or even an awkward noise, anything to formulate a proper retort. When that proves to be delayed and difficult, heat begins to pool into your cheeks, shooting up to the back of your ears and budding under the skin of your neck.
"Just asking."
 He hums, ghosting his fingers along the small of your back, careful not to touch you as he shoulders his way to your side without bumping you off of your feet, the gesture prompts something inside your gut to twist and twist and twist. "Well...yeah, but it's never been serious."
You're waiting for the red light so you can cross the road to the parking area. Jisung is towering over a sea of the heads, he's not much taller than the average person, hands tucked in his pockets. The wind is messing his hair up to the side, he keeps running his fingers through the stubborn strand to get it to sit right but when the endeavour proves to be futile so he just scoffs, as if berating the strand whilst stubbornly repeating the action. 
Looking at him like this, you imagine falling in love with Jisung is easy. Like gliding a hot knife through butter. It must feel just right, even if it doesn't last long, like holding fire in between your palms and pretending you own it, feeling the warmth kissing your skin before it nips and burns, like speeding across comets, stars and the moon, waging wars in the name of romance and producing litanies about love and then - finally, inevitably, unwillingly - letting go, like you always knew you would.
 You imagine the aged memories of blurry faces behind cobwebs of raindrops and curtains of mist, the faces of people who he could've loved but hadn't.
And it scares you for some unknown reason.
There's something inexplicably lovable about Jisung, his babyish features have always possessed the tendency to catch you off guard, even though you've known him for a long time; it's gobsmacking and too winning to be real, like something out of a dream, the milky planes of an acrylic face. The smooth buttery texture of his skin, the subtle, narrow jut of his nose, the pouted shape of his mouth and pearly teeth. You think he doesn't know this, doesn't see himself the way you do even when he pretends to be confident with his boastful jokes, they are just jokes after all. Only further evidence of how he doesn't want to believe any compliment rendered his way.
"What about you?" He poses, looking over from the hood of his car while unlocking it from the driver side, "Dating anyone?" 
The truth is, you've tried the atrocities of blind dating and online dating and casual dating but they all have been deficient and you're too tired to go through the never ending cycle  of being on disappointing dates again: your expectations are too high, some might even say, for the way you seek familiarity with absolute strangers; you're stubborn, awkward and sometimes, simply unapproachable,  but for the sake of not deflating your ego, you decide that Jisung doesn't need to know this. 
You shake your head, failing to understand why Jisung is grinning through the cracked window, whilst you're pulling the door open and plopping down on the passenger seat.
"Why are you smiling?" You furrow your brows, watching as the lopsided grin grows bigger. 
"Because." He shrugs, tucking his hands in his pockets.  
"Because?" You look at him expectantly, but he just looks back at you without expanding the brief explanation. You're so close that you can make out the thin layer of mist collecting on his eyelashes, his arched cupid's bow, his eyes have so much brown in them. You'd liken the colour to that of a muddy lake, like the bare earth, they catch sunlight and turn golden, just for a second, for just one second, it looks like what magic must be like. Realising that you have been staring at him for quite long, you tear your abashed gaze away. Piloting it to shift from the buskers to the other cars, buses, pedestrians, traffic lights, looking for a sight distracting enough.
"I'm not telling you!" Jisung mocks your tone like a child with a violent shake of his head, putting his keys in ignition. The engine roars to life, wheezing like a kettle. Why he drives a Comet Convertible when he could've gotten any other alternative is a wonder; not that you mind, you like it, it’s  like sitting  inside a giant jewelry box, the inside is smooth red leather, velvety smooth black paint on the outside.
"Why not?" You frown.
Jisung rolls the steering wheel with one hand, keeping his eyes trained to the approaching traffic while turning lanes, he giggles, "Because."
You'll have to admit that it's quite... challenging coming to terms with being friends with Jisung. Not because he's practically everywhere but  just since Jisung tends to demand your attention when he realises he's not getting it.
When you try to dodge him on mornings after he cheats at UNO, scurrying away behind swathes of sleep deprived university students, hoping you don't catch his eye, he calls your name in that  loud, clear and intentional way that he does, dragging a heavy arm around your shoulder to squeeze it against the back of your neck before tousling your hair or some other action to effectively ruin your get up. When you zone out in class, musing absently about something that has nothing to do with scale efficiency and accidentally catch his gaze, he winks at you, snapping you right back into attention. 
Your friendship is, to say the least, interesting, for everyone around you.  It's like everyone is always on the edge of their seats, waiting for a chance to poke fun at your apparent chemistry. It means nothing, you're just friends, you remind yourself over and over again, defensively, succumbing to the urge to grow closer and closer to him without paying mind to the annoying voice in your head.
Jisung texts you in the middle of the night, when he's parked out front, to meet him for a midnight drive out that you're sure no one knows about and you tell yourself you're getting away with it - only to be confronted by a smirking Sunwoo in the morning, likening the situation to a teenager  caught red handed sneaking in through the window after a clandestine night of partying.
 But you're not spared the teasing even out in the open. Though while you squirm awkwardly, sink into your seat and refute offendedly, Jisung doesn't have a lick of such knowledge or care, he easily slumps against you, resting his head on your shoulder in class and dozing off, indifferent to the multiple pairs of eyes zeroing in on you.
Even though the bartenders smile their coquettish smiles, offering drinks on the house and people laughed a little more than necessary, twirling their hair around their fingers at anything and everything he said, thence offering proper chances to ditch you completely, he remains close to you at pubs, putting his long fingers on your shoulders and resting his chin on your head, shooting some creepy guy who just wouldn't stop insisting on buying you a drink a look that said he wouldn't mind taking a stronger stance, had the creep not backed off. It was what anyone would have done, you tell yourself, ignoring the underlying pang of a gut feeling that begged to differ.
You envy the obvious charm Jisung holds over everyone, easing his way out of the jokes to do whatever he wants, you wonder what he would do if someone asked him if you were just friends, if he would dismiss them with a wave or provide a positive response, if it would hurt, if it would matter.
You jump at the tone. It's breezy, light and followed by a scoff at the end, you recognise it, sighing once the initial surprise oozes out of you to be replaced with familiarity, Renjun is halfway through a complaint about acrylic paint, his mouth half open while his eyes travel over your head, where you're certain the owner of the voice is jogging up to the pair of you. 
"I'll er...catch you later." Renjun purses his lips, while you turn your gaze back to Jisung, he's coming from practice, so his hair is wet, cheeks flushed red, he looks younger like this, completely barefaced. He's wearing a  plain white t-shirt and light wash jeans, even in such an ordinary attire, a few bypassers' attention latch solely onto him.
The sun has long laid on a cotton soft sheet of clouds, letting a blue evening straighten its back against the dark firmament, the crowd at campus is reducing dramatically, you were walking to the metro, deciding to rest by the park bench as he mimics the pose, sliding from the opposite end when you try to keep a distance.
Jisung nudges you with his shoulder. "We’re having a party at our new place. You should come."
It wasn't willingness that took you to loud premises. You aren't exactly a party animal, far from it, maybe an animal that blends into the background, wordlessly observing  masses of sweaty people who will wake up with horrible hangovers the next morning, wishing the night before had never happened. If such an animal exists. 
 But you're genuinely curious about meeting Minho, who seems to have assumed the position of  one of Jisung's best friends while you were absent from his life. You found yourself wondering if he was different from Bang Chan, who in spite of being the former's friend, is someone you could deem yourself more similar to than he is to Jisung; shaking your heads and groaning into your palms, Chan would pinch the bridge of his nose and cautiously glance at you as though to convey You get me, right? while Jisung showered the karaoke bar manager with grandiloquent blandishments into giving extra minutes for a lower price.
Despite this, it is the undeniable but sheer adoration for your fun-loving mutual friend that binds you two together the best, the shared looks of appreciation when Jisung  scolds you for neglecting your health, when he surprisingly remembers a minor detail about you or when he indulges in appreciative chats about crayon drawings with loquacious kids who would come running to display their paintings when you were looking to take an indolent walk in the local park, he would listen attentively, moving to a sitting position, nodding his head like he understood what the kiddish gibberish meant; one thing is certain -  there was certainly more to Jisung than people pegged and if anything, those undiscovered traits only made him more endearing.
"Okay….but make sure we don't end up playing strip poker or something." You shudder at that thought, grimacing exaggeratedly to make your point.
"Why?" He raises his brows, a small simper playing on his lips to give away that he was only teasing you, "I like that game."
But under all that banter, it was well received that Jisung would never put you to the obligation of doing anything you're not comfortable with, so you just play along, narrowing your eyes, "That's because you're a pervert." You say, stifling a laugh whilst his grin dissolves to drop to a blank face.
 Jisung glares at you, nudging you with his knee, effectively putting you on the verge of falling.
"Hey!"  You scoff, repeating the action but Jisung doesn't roll across the grass like you wanted, he doesn't even budge. Instead, he laughs at your frustration, shaking his head and glancing back at you with an entertained look in his eyes. 
(Something inside your chest is growing, like an epiphany, its vines pushing up against your lungs, your heart, its thornes prickling, injuring the flesh, something that tells you this is so much more to you than you'd admit, you press it down, ignore it; just a little longer, you think, just a little longer before you start to see this for what it is. )
"Why are you staring at me?" Jisung questions, you can't help but notice how he tilts his head, moving his curious face closer to yours, inspecting, like just before he makes his final move and mutters Checkmate but he doesn't actually know what he's doing, doesn't realise the weight of his actions.  "Do I have something on my face?" He tilts his cheek to you, as though offering you to examine it and then, immediately his mouth lowers down to form a deep set frown. Is he really that goddamned clueless? Doesn't this affect him at all? 
"No." You clear your throat and lean back, moving your weight on your palms,  "It's getting late. We should get going." 
The earliest memory you have is from when you were five, your parents had taken you to the beach and that day, while the sun shone brightly and the sand was warm, like home under your feet, with big curious eyes, you gazed off into the brilliant blue water. 
It was just so beautiful. 
And you so badly, wanted to wade into the welcoming foamy arms of the sea. If only the immensity of the water hadn't scared you as much as it did, you thought. It was like a blue giant that was reaching to steal the sun off of the sky and if you  dared to test the waters, the liquid Goliath could whisk you right off of your tiny feet and drag you into its mouth.
 That, you think, is what you're really afraid of, that deep down inside , you never really stopped holding back. That you'll never muster up the courage to do anything you really want.
In the midst of the chaos of an alcohol induced party, your head feels like it's about to explode.
It stopped raining. And you haven't had the luxury of running into Jisung ever since he went off to get a drink for himself.
The windows are open. Though there's not a flutter of a cool breeze or anything. But there are assortments of crisps, juices and other suspicious looking snacks. The cool curve of the stair railing pressing up against your side. It's unspeakably loud. The frat house, as typical as it sounds, welcomes an obnoxiously large crowd, it isn't surprising, considering people here have a reputation for social adeptness, the house being big enough to capacitate a crowd twice as big as its guests is just a plus point.
 Once the majority of the crowd  had  long thinned out to participate in a curious sounding game of  beer pong, the aftermath is that everything smells like sweat, vomit or both. You're tipsy, tired and alone. It's been an hour since you arrived. Your patience is wearing thin. 
 You down the remainder of the watered down scotch, even though the liquid could secure a horrible case of nausea if you couldn't hold your liquor well tonight.
In the mess of too many heads, too many hands and too many bodies, pushing, pulling, dancing and kissing  with shocking hostility, suddenly, the view starts to shift, from left to right, from upwards and downwards, like you're on a rollercoaster but without the lap bar. It's certainly a symptom of  the  splitting migraine you're sporting. It's too loud downstairs for you to summon anyone and besides, the search for a familiar face seems futile.  
You fish out your phone, wondering if you should send Jisung a text, squinting at the glaring blue screen but decide against it - hoping to God that you don't walk in on anyone shagging while looking for one of the rooms to crash in. 
Now, that...would put them in an awkward position. You mentally high five yourself for the joke. 
Though the amusement is  mostly transient, soon replaced by a rapid jerk of pain. Wincing in an attempt to stand with little control over balance, you try to ease the pain from your briefly twisted foot. 
When you've made it to your desired destination, an inconspicuous looking room at the end of the long hall, you kick off the death traps for heels off of your feet and all but fling yourself on the mattress.
Stacks of comics are carefully  placed on the top most shelf of the bookshelf pushed against the wall, their polished spines sticking out.
 The rest are overflowing with vinyls, set in alphabetical order. You can tell because each row has a tag taped over its head.
Everything is surprisingly clean, the walls are crisp white, there's a single black wall on which a large painting sits. A night light glows dimly, perched up on the bedside table. Whoever's bedroom this is, has the blandest taste in interior design. Or a lack of it since they moved in not long ago as Jisung informed.
 You stare owlishly at the blue ceiling, following the undulating spines of bricks, stacked in. Upwards and downwards. Like a map. Like a  staircase to nowhere. Then you close your eyes. 
Imagining that you're staring up at the sky at dawn, when it's  a swirl of milk tea. Golden. Buttery white. Autumnal Yellow. And pumpkin spice. Brown curls against the background of a milky white firmament and if one bothered to look closer, they'd catch stars peeking from behind slowly darkening clouds, waiting to come out. 
When you were a child, you liked to stick a curious index into filled tea cups, as if to study the khaki liquid , not quite grasping the connoisseurship of hot beverages just yet. The experience would always end with a mouthful of biscuits and your grandmum's tickles engendering your stomach to ache a good kind of ache.
Now, the memory prompts you to raise a finger to the air, as if you were dipping your digits into the whirlpool of maroon. For a moment, you feel as if you're still that little girl stuck in someone else's body, like you hadn't grown up at all. 
But in the hurtful manner that reality often made itself known, yanking you right back from your dreams, the door creaks noisily and then closes.
Out of the corner of your eye, the character looks more like a funny sketch on a chalkboard than he does a person. All blurry and messy. Like someone tried to rub him out. 
The flash of light radiating from his phone, a sliver of neon, silver, you recognise his face, you've seen the same expression right before he's about to choose between  his favourite ice cream flavour; eyebrows knitted in concentration, lips pursed, emerging from the shadows.  He's typing really fast. You blink, adjusting your vision. The unobstructed sight of his face broadens. "Jisung?" 
 He looks at you, positioning his phone towards your face to get a good in the barely there light. 
You furrow your brows in confusion, "What are you doing here?" 
"That's a good question."  He snorts.  "Indeed, what business might I have in my room?"
You jump, sitting straighter, then stand up. Just in case he thinks you're a fucking creep. He probably doesn't even want to be friends with you anymore and you understand, you wouldn't want to be friends with you either. "I...I didn't know."
Jisung laughs loudly at your fluster, rolling his eyes,  he plops down, the mattress dipping under his weight, groaning noisily. He pats the spot beside him. "Relax..."
You wear a doubtful look, under the impression that he'd break into a laughing fit with a quip about you caving in so easily.  You narrow your eyes even though you're quite tempted to take his offer. 
He tuts, yanking you by the arm so you sink down beside him.  
"I just saw you coming upstairs, wanted to make sure some asshole wasn't picking on you." He explains, his face contorting to momentary peevishness just at the fleeting thought. 
A crappy pop song is buzzing in the background, you can hear it, you can smell the salted popcorn in the air. His fringe is brushed forward, cheeks smoothed over, moisturised, in this intimidating proximity, you pick up that Jisung always smells really good. Like aftershave and something strong, woody, earthy — but just the right amount, not overpowering.
 "Have you considered trying something more...erm... colourful?" You  scan his room, deciding to change the subject, attempting to dodge the heavy feeling of fluster in your chest; you guess it was showing on your face because the corners of Jisung's mouth begin to quirk upwards. If there’s anyone more awkward than Jisung, it /s definitely you. "This isn't really you."
 With his mouth lopsided, his nose scrunching upwards, his teeth showing, his eyes turning to crescents, Jisung chuckles, as if perceiving your attempt to digress but choosing to let it slide.
 "Then what is?" He raises a brow.
"I don't know." You pause, trying to picture a suitable tint, "Something bright."
Someone starts blasting Ed Sheeran outside, putting the volume all the way. It creates a proper distraction from the conversation to go beyond simple suggestions, it was a sudden reminder of just how badly you wanted the party to be over.
 "You know the more I think about it, the more I come to acknowledge that this is really not my scene."  You confess absentmindedly, backing up on the mattress so your feet dangle, your headache kicks back, beating inside  your ears, knocking against your skull. You lie back on the mattress, curiously blinking up at Jisung's frowning face.
 "Why didn't you tell me that before?" He says, a pinch in his brows pushing the shape up in utter concern. 
"Because I wanted to come." You say honestly, prompting Jisung to heave a deep sigh, relief gradually washing over his rigid features, "I don't know, maybe I'm just not fun enough."
"Yeah. That's probably it." He jokes, grinning from ear to ear. But the shape drops immediately when you jut your lip out instead of mirroring the mirthful action. "You really think so?"
 He blinks at you, not expecting the forwardness, "No." He says, and you note that this is the most serious Jisung has ever sounded around you.
Your face is growing increasingly hot as the weight of his remark started to kick in. It’s so unfair, isn't it? He has no idea how every little thing he said to you meant so much more than it ought. It hurt when you found yourself automatically deducing his trivial actions, all the while knowing it hadn't meant anything to him.  To him, you're just a friend. And you aren't going to let your emotions ruin that, not again. 
 "What's the party for anyway?"
You furrow your eyebrows in genuine curiosity when the silence has become unbearable. Constantly needing to be disrupted. 
 "It's a stupid frat house tradition, they do it every time we move."
“Sounds like a cult activity to me."
You hear him hum, as if feigning contemplation, then open your eyes.
 "Well, that...That's because it is."
It's very typical of Jisung to try to make jokes whilst trying to keep a straight face. In most cases, he doesn't fool anyone. His voice rises  to a cartoonish volume, his mouth pouted out when he speaks as though to hold back a laugh, it’s his eyes, widened, twinkling with a notorious spark in them that ultimately gave it away. In rare instances, however, they deluded strangers into thinking he was being serious when he really wasn't; like that time he told Chan the pool was pre-heated just for the latter, who trustingly dove into the water, to swim up with clattering teeth and ice cold skin to the surface finding that Jisung was grinning deviously. It was an obvious payback for the time the older male hogged Jisung's share of cheesecake as a daring attempt at pranking.
Maybe, you guess, you just knew him too well.
  "Interesting." you raise your brows, playing along, "I'm surprised there isn't any nude dancing involved."
 " sound so disappointed.” 
 Jisung laughs, his chest heaving upwards and downwards with every laboured breath.  It's a pleasant sight, knowing you get to have this moment to yourself. For reasons you'd like to ignore, something inside your chest begins to ache, thrumming against your ribs. It isn't until you put your hands over your face in an attempt to get rid of a thin layer of sweat, do you realise that you were smiling.
When he calms down, he keeps looking at you. "I take that you made the submission?" He presses, knowing well that you were intending to put off the matter from the dodgy look in your eyes. "Right?"
 Before, Jisung stubbornly pressed on the matter, it was unheard of for you to allow your writings to be read by anyone other than yourself; it was only fiction, your little secret, you reason, even though you knew the underlying cause of your unwillingness was that you simply cannot take rejection well, it is truly terrifying but an automatic reaction to think that your work is boring and somehow unworthy of praise every time  you are on the verge of sharing it. Your parents never showed any particular interest in it and you assumed that was a universal desire. 
But Jisung is incredibly obdurate when he wants to be.
 Sometimes, you think he's the only person in your life who's truly honest with you, he doesn't shower you in false accolades, not hesitating to rip the band-aid, to point out the less likable bits from the likable ones even if he knew it would make you unhappy. It was interesting prying your wounds open around him, he wouldn't suppress his thoughts and blurt euphemisms like it's going to be okay, he would grimace and gag and then he'd clean them, he would sit patiently with them and try to dress them up for better - and somewhere along the way, while you may have cared about other people's opinions, your concern for what he thinks of you is starting to become far more significant. And it petrifies you.  "No." 
Jisung shoots you a look of annoyance, staring at you like he's awaiting an explanation. You can sense the lengthy talk coming from the back of his throat, something which surpassed the regular limits of you should do this and you shouldn't do this, he relentlessly pushed you towards your career which you claimed you were passionate about but needed his stern berating often when you would stagger back in indolence and you'd be lying if you said it isn't effective - albeit, the scoldings sometimes led to the two of you bickering back and forth, giving each other the silent treatment until one of you would cave - whatever it was, you know you could never turn down Jisung, even if he was bruising your ego to ask you to get your shit together.  "Why not?"
 "It's just a stupid draft, Sungie..." You laugh nervously but he doesn't give into the fit like you imagined, instead, he just dons a solemn look on his face, something that seems to show that he'd been peeved by your response.
  "No it’s not." He shakes his head slowly and there's sort of a firmness in his retort that surprises you, far from how he usually jokes on about,  that tells you there's no room for argument, "It's not stupid at all."
Jisung tears his gaze away, his expression softening once he notes the worried look on your face, it's as though he had suddenly changed his mind about the lecture he was surely planning  to give you,
 "Look I don’t want to fight.” He sighs, “You’re always talking about how much this means to you and if it’s something that you really want, don't put it off. I'm your friend, I can only encourage you — but at the end of the day, it's your job to pull yourself up. Goes without saying that it’ll be a complete waste if you don’t pursue play writing because you - and I don't care if you don't agree with me -  really do have a lot of potential.”
You blink in wonder, ”You think so?"
 "I know so."
 You don't remember the last time someone said something like that to you, if at all. Tearing your gaze away from him, you’re met with the inability to shake the feeling of craving something you don't want to understand, mired in your own musings and for no particular reason but to avoid the desperation of confessing to yourself of the warm tight feeling inside your belly - you give into the temptation of placing your palm over the nightlight, watching the light turn from bright yellow to muted blue, it stings slightly. 
Too cheesy, you would groan out under any other circumstance where you hadn’t been so fazed.
Instead, you just gulp, eyes wide at his forward comment, his praise is the equivalent of being splashed with ice cold water when one is half asleep, now you're all wide eyed and incognisant of what's real and what isn't, it prompts a jolting sensation to traverse all throughout your body, "Thanks." 
This scene was no exception, Jisung tips his head back against his palms when he's thinking about something, while keeping his calm gaze posed on you, he smiles, rolling his eyes. “You’re too hard on yourself, loosen up just a little. I'm not always gonna be around.”
You muse that your mum said the exact same thing when you moved away for university but chose not to mention it, it's not true though, you want to say. Because Jisung is always there for you.
 See, the universe exists on this dreadful thread of balance  and you've been hanging on by your last finger for as long as you remember, taking every step on the basis of a fear of tumbling off to be greeted by the gasps and complaints of an imaginary audience, for the longest time, picturing  your play to be dissected like a lab rat, for a delirious critic to point their scalpel and announce, the misshapen heart is here, that's the pudgy head.
But nowadays and you'll never tell him this, when Jisung talks about you  like that, you almost believe it, believe in yourself and don't think he understands what it means to you, how grand that is  -  to imagine seeing your play come to life, something severely intimidating about watching it, spotlight gingerly kissing up the actors' newborn faces as the audience spews quiet comments, critics' expressions morphing with  nuanced understanding, the anticipation is tangible, the walls closing in by the second, tension squeezing the air out of their lungs -  until the curtains part and a story draws them into another world. Then everything falls into a formidable silence.The inexplicable feeling of being one wrapping its limbs around everyone and cradling them to its chest like a loving mother, awestruck strangers listening in on the heart wrenching dialogues, the belter of a riveting tragedy prompting their hearts to lurch forward and sit on their tongues, then they'll look around, spot bits of you in your characters and think I'm not alone. I never was.   (The people you've both never known but known your entire life.)
It's better to slip, to put everything on the line for the sake of making way to what you want on a feeling rooted deep inside your gut than to cower behind the fear of disapproval and have nothing at all. Being brave enough to tell your story is not the absence of that fear which keeps you, but it is telling the tale despite, toppling that fear.
There's something relieving about that theory.
 "I want to lie down..." You mewl, in spite of already lying down. It's a sign of how the constant toiling through exams was finally taking a toll on you, the sleepiness coupled with hours long lethargy from the party seemed to be weighing your body down, making your eyelids heavier by the second. He moves your hand, leaning into the light. A wash of colour is spreading  across his face for a brief moment, exposing the skin to scrutiny, all veins, curves and crinkles around his eyes. Jisung smiles at you. Your eyes dart all over his face, resting on the curve of his mouth briefly, then his eyes, you catch the yellow flickering in them , the brown turning to dark copper. 
Your heart drops to your stomach when he blinks away slowly, the disappointment assuaged by something foreign, dumb and utterly clichéd stirs in the pit of your stomach as his thumb briefly swipes across your knuckles,  "You don't say, sleepy girl!" Jisung scoffs, bringing his arm under his head.  
Unconsciously, entertaining the thought of staying alone in his room, you find yourself feeling safer because of his presence instead, divorced from prying eyes, "Thanks for staying." You say, wanting to talk to him more and more,  contemplating fashions  to contribute to the conversation again and again just to cut the silence.
"Well, you had a lot to drink." 
He reminds, as if the reason for his staying is that obvious;  worry laced in his voice and you understood why -   even though you aren't completely doused in a state of inebriation, you kept swaying all the way upstairs.
"But you missed out on.." you drag the consonant unintentionally, "all the fun, though."
"Do I look like I care?" Jisung snorts, staring up at the ceiling, leaning back on his hands and dropping down against the bed, he laces his fingers together over his chest, digging into his pocket and fishing out his phone. It isn’t a question.
His wallpaper is of a kid gazing up from the water, he peers up at the camera, grinning ear to ear. This is definitely Jisung. Because even with his front teeth missing, his smile is all too familiar. His cheeks were chubbier back then, face rounder, softer around the edges. Subconsciously, you rose a finger to poke at his cheek, as if to examine it. Jisung shoots you a glare.
"You were cute."
You coo, leaning onto his shoulder, the closeness should not intimidate you, given the amount of time you spend like this. But it does anyway.
"What do you mean were?” Jisung scoffs, “Nu-uh, still am. I'm the resident cutie pie, if you will."  He sings, narrowing his eyes briefly, thereon chuckling at the look of sheer disgust on your face. 
You wrinkle your nose, "I can't believe you just said that..." 
The rest of the night is spent in a comfortable quietude, except for the times when either of you perk up to initiate conversation and Jisung gives you aspirin for the throbbing migraine. 
Your shoulders are touching. Jisung breathes. Slowly. Then fast. Then slow. And then he tucks an earphone into your ear, it was an unspoken ritual you two practised when you were alone, oft in a different venue, sitting languidly about campus, while you read and he winked through the glaring sun to get a distant view of the landscape.
Jisung yawns, the grapple on his speech loosening and loosening.
You remain quiet, closing your eyes again. Words feel liquid in your mouth, letters wobbling on your tongue until you feel like you've lost complete control over what you're thinking of saying.
You can see the scene unfolding inside your head, can feel the earth under your skin, can hear birds chirping, can feel the dusty orange, morning glow kissing your faces. As if you're the only two people there. "Coldplay, right?" 
"Uh-huh..." Jisung replies, he sounds unsurprised by your aligned tastes. You look at him and find that he's mirroring you. His long lashes casting shadows on the apples of his cheeks, eyes clamped shut. 
"It's beautiful..." You murmur, dropping your head back against the mattress, you think Jisung hums in response but you can't be too sure. It's like you're slowly, slowly and slowly drifting far, far away. Letting slumber wrap its welcoming arms around you. 
For a second, you feel the weight on your shoulders lighten, you imagine that you're soaring, soaring, soaring, like you could look down and see the rivers and seas and lakes pulsing against the  Earth's body, as though they were a bundle of nerves belonging to a round, green vessel of a body, and somehow - then immediately, you're being pulled to your feet, at great speed, you're falling, falling, falling - so fast that you feel like there's a fire budding inside your lungs, budding under your fingertips, inside your heart. 
Then it begins.  This must be a dream, this must be a dream, this must be a dream. The soft murmur of scripted words. Parted curtains, an open window allowing you to stare in wonder, dusk stretching across the entirety of the landscape, blue, then pink. You think of the big sapphire sea, the warm sand and someone waiting for you before it.  You think, this is it. This is it. This is it. And run, run, run. Sprinting to the broadening view. You recognise the back of his head, the curve of his neck, tufts of raven hair fluttering about, his white cuffed shirt, his footsteps like a trail of breadcrumbs, feet dipped in frothy water, You call his name, surprised  but think I knew it, I knew it, I knew it all along. He looks back and smiles at you, offering you his hand. (You're not over him. You don't think you ever were. And this is what you want, you want it so bad, after all this time, are you going to hold back? Are you going to hold back? Are you going to hold back?)
Just for a moment, in the split of a second, just now,  just once, you aren't afraid. 
You jolt awake, the earphone straining against the sudden movement, "Hey." You whisper, looking up at him. His Adam's apple drops with a slow gulp, the rosy colour of his parted lips. The slope of his nose. You don't know when you  nuzzled your face into his chest, his long arm is draped around your waist, pulling you flush against his body.  Your heart is beating noisily in your ears, on your tongue. 
To your surprise, Jisung hums in response, eyes still clamped shut. You're so close, just so close, he brushes his slender fingers against the back of your neck, the touch feather light, as though reminding you that he had heard you. Your breath hitches inaudibly.
"Let's..." You say, with your tongue starting to limp inside your mouth, "go to the beach sometime."
A shower is running, loud, water gushing down and thumping against the tiles, the sound echoing and growing thinner by the second. 
You sit up on the empty bed, the recollection of last night lodged deep inside your head like a butcher knife. 
The realisation that you aren't at home isn't startling as you momentarily grow distracted in examining the room, the photos, the turntable, the white paint, the portraits, a light adjusted above, bits and pieces of a person scattered around.
Jisung's t-shirt is discarded carelessly on his reading table, your eyes widen when you acknowledge the occupant in the shower to be him, leaping up with a haste, everything comes back to you  with a force equivalent of pulling the butcher knife out and slamming it right back into your skull.
"It's you!" You gasp, partially  because the cheerful exclamation sends pangs of pain to your head, having made all the way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, only to find Minho whipping up pancake batter in a bowl. As opposed to his old Instagram photos, with the new complementing pink hair, his feline like features are even more staggering, eyes narrowed to amused slits, behind which beady black orbs stare you down in absolute curiosity.
"Right, we met last night." He reminds you, uttering your name quickly, finding that you already recognise him. He holds the spatula up, paused in surprise as if he really wasn't expecting to see you right now, the position only eases when you wave your hands dismissively and say it's not what you think.
  He smiles, there's a strange disappointed quality to the demand."Sit down, let's have breakfast."
It's awkward, Minho spares you a few interrogating stares while you silently dig at your meal, the sound of cutlery and ceramic sounding through the open kitchen. You wish Jisung would come down already if the floor beneath your feet isn't going to open up and swallow you whole to save you from this discomfiture.
"They're really good." You nod, shoveling more of the unevenly cut portions of the pancake into your mouth.
"Do you still have feelings for him?" 
You choke, coughing on the gigantic bite, patting your chest as you slowly as you begin to regain your composure. Minho's eyebrows are weaved upwards, hinting that he expected an answer despite offering you water. God, he cut right to the chase, you aren't used to people as blunt as that. When you don't say anything, he blinks at you, tilting his head to examine the evasive expression on your face.
"He talks about you a lot..." He notifies, as though it was an explanation for something.  Minho's arms are crossed over his chest, proudly before announcing, "I think I practically know everything about you."
Funny, you could say the exact same thing about him. Jisung likes to babble on about people he cares about, which albeit is a handful, you are just as special as any of them. And that reminder as a consequence of his constant prodding makes you a little angry. 
"Look, he doesn't like me if that's what you're trying to say." You blurt out, you don't want to get your hopes up.  It's weird saying something so grave to someone you only recently  came to know. Having already accepted your one sided feelings even though you struggle to try to suppress them and the hopeful part of you reasons that Jisung probably didn’t initiate a kiss because you weren’t exactly sober — but the real reason, and you know this, is that his withdrawal last night was just cherry on top of the  big fat I-don't-feel-the-same-way cake. 
You made the mistake of ruining your friendship because of a stupid confession in the past and you aren't going to make it again, not when you're closer than ever now.
"That's not what I asked."  Minho comments. He is pretty great at appearing intimidating. Or rather, he sees right through you. You can't tell. But he's practically cornered you with his witty questions whilst his perceptive eyes keep an intent watch on you.  Minho had a curious  quality to him when he looked at things, he seemed to notice everything.
You laugh nervously, rubbing your nape when his gaze is practically unblinking in anticipating a reaction. 
"How was your Gimpo trip?" You digress.
 Minho's ears perk up, his eyes blown to big, happy circles, he nods his head excitedly, properly distracted from pressing the previous topic further. 
The conversation fizzles away in a haze, Minho rambles on in a cheerful tone, his eyes glossed over in enthusiasm. He speaks  of his three cats and asks you to commit their names to memory with a dead serious face, moving onto ramble on about his childhood, an entanglement of being the only child who dreamed laboriously of pursuing a career in ballet and succeeded. You listen attentively, not breaking your focus even when he gets up to do the dishes. 
By the time Jisung lazily drapes a towel around his neck, all the while hopping down the stairs, you feel like you've overstayed, digging your feet into the heels from last night while Minho holds the door open for you. 
"Need a ride?" Jisung asks, standing on his toe to look at you from behind Minho. 
 You shake your head, suggesting that you were to take the subway instead, keeping your eyes fixated on your sore feet as a reminder that you're opting for the alternative not by choice but because you don't have the energy to render Sunwoo an explanation of where you'd spent the night at with his constant teasing, Tightening the strap around your leg, while balancing yourself with the free arm, Jisung's long fingers quickly grab onto the underside of your arm, letting you balance your weight whilst posing the question, "You’re coming tomorrow for the group study, right?" You ask.
 It was an uncharacteristic gesture, outright surprising, because of his renowned proficiency in that class, when Jisung suggested that he didn’t understand the volume of topics you were going over.
Jisung glances cautiously at his best friend, who has a stupid smirk on his face for some reason, like he knows something you don't, “Yeah, yeah...” He says, reaching out to pinch your cheek despite your complaint. 
“Are you an alligator?” he calls out, prompting you to shoot a confused look over your shoulder.  "What?"
It's just one of those things Jisung says instinctively, his eccentric humour getting the best of him in silences and you, well, you walked right into this one. 
 "You know...cause I'll see you later!" 
In your peripheral vision, you spot Minho pinching the bridge of his nose at the quip, muttering a quick Jesus Christ.
During the day, the portrait is much more confusing. 
It's carefully placed on the paper covered floor, the room smells like fresh paint and sweat. Jisung suggested that you go paint shopping in the  pursuit of looking for a suitable colour to liven up his walls and the end of the semester meant you had enough time to put the purchased product to use. 
There is a blob of red on Jisung's jaw and the colour gets smudged all the way to his cheekbone when he makes an unsuccessful attempt to itch the skin with the back of his palm. You don't tell him this. 
"I bought it from the local display." He breathes out exasperatedly, the paint roller is placed on the paper, "The artist said it was about an unlikely romance or something like that. Looked pretty dope to me too and—"
 "I don't get it." You cock your head to the side and investigate the painting at your feet with an obstinate want to understand how it's supposed to depict love. Or anything that bears semblance to it, you never did have a good eye for art,  "It just looks like they slapped on paint."
 "Look here, dummy!" He slaps your pointer finger jokingly, grumbling under his breath.  Taking your palm and slowly splaying out the digits. Traces the rough pads against its silky texture, a map to somewhere, a blend of blue and pink, silhouettes reaching out for each other when the world intends to tear them apart. 
You sigh, contentedly and think this must be it; because never was love  meant to be understood. 
It was meant to be felt. 
"Why do you have that dumb look on your face?"
 Sunwoo speaks, chewing through his snack, his fringe is glued to his forehead in a thick layer of sweat. You aren't surprised. The humidity is skyrocketing. A cut in your salaries have made you compromise the use of your obsolete air conditioner. It's a terribly humid Sunday morning and you're getting ready for a trip to Minho's beach house.
It wasn't hard to convince you. Such was possible because Minho's offer was reiterated through a number of ways and people over the span of last week. Even from Sunwoo. 
He and the rest of the boys have started  to get along pretty well, so well that you often end up acting as an amused spectator, simply watching the boys cosying up to one another while you're effectively camouflaging in the background of utter silence. Your friends  teamed up to produce quips here and there, stopping to chuckle into their napkins, cheeks rubicund like ripe apples whenever you went out for dinner. It was becoming a regular occurrence, at this point. Not that you minded; you genuinely enjoy the time you spend together.
As a final move, Jisung reminded you of your slurred request of wanting to go to the beach, beating the purpose of you claiming you wanted to stay home doing nothing when really you were just looking to avoid encouraging how you felt for him. You constantly found yourself suppressing the desire to want more and the last few weeks had been the toughest because you had trouble ignoring how you felt although you were careful not to show it. Jisung was spending more time with you than usual since you were on summer break and were relieved of your studies for a short while. You couldn't forget that night at his place, the memory made your gut wrench in a desire you couldn't fulfill. 
But  while it was hard being around him, you just knew you couldn't help it.
The trip was, nonetheless, a reminder of how Jisung always gets what he wants, even if it is as easy as snagging his favourite items off of the super store shelf or something which demands  more patience to be possessed, something that needs to be drawn out with unwavering persistence.  
Come to think of it, you never really understood what it means to live like that. 
"What dumb look?" You ask, averting your gaze from your phone, twiddling your thumbs for a response to Jisung's text notifying that they were taking the lead on the journey by setting off earlier than you to set up the place.
 It won't take them as long as it will for you because it's a familiar premise for them. Your arm is starting to hurt from holding up your suitcase.
Sunwoo mimics a grin, stretching the corners of his lips awkwardly and flattening his lips like that of a frog, a string of dried milk sits on his chin to finish off the impression. He points to his face, "This one."
 "I don't know what you're talking about." You roll your eyes, "Hurry up. Jisung messaged me the location." 
Sunwoo nods, then pauses, then his eyes widen, a teasing grin making  its way on his face, insinuating that he finally understood why you packed chocolate cake last minute in spite of you not having a particular preference for the item. "Does he know you have a big puppy crush on him?"
Sunwoo makes up for your social ineptness, amongst other things, and there are times when you don't understand what you'd do without him, times when you're relieved he's your friend even though you're essentially opposites - now is, certainly, not one of those times, now you wish he wasn't so close to you  to have access to this information without telling. 
"Are you hearing yourself? I don't have a crush on him." You lie, glaring at him, when your flatmate ducks his head to display that he didn't quite agree, you groan, 
"I don't!"
"Do you take me for an idiot?"
Sunwoo pulls his sunglasses down to pretend to study you, his big brown eyes scrutinising you from head to toe.  The  strong stink of diesel is still emanating  in the air in spite of the image of the gas station being wiped out long ago in your peripheral vision. You kind of like it, it contributes to boosting the anticipation of what was to happen when you reach your destination .
"Oh absolutely..." Sunwoo says, driving in the direction of the beach house the GPS pilots him to, Lauv hums faintly from the dusty speakers, the familiar lyrics filling the air  whilst you unconsciously bobbed your head. The vague distraction allowed Sunwoo to buy time to gather his thoughts, 
 "You need to tell him how you feel before someone else does. You need to tell him how you feel, period."
“I'm not doing that again.” you warn him, he speeds down the highway, your beach hat threatening to fly about under the weight of your hands at the sudden gush of wind. "Need I remind you how it went last time?" 
"Last time was different." 
"You barely even spoke to each other!" He exclaims frustratedly, pointing out the obvious, "Now you're good friends and he seems to feel the same way considering he always puts up with" Sunwoo mocks, looking at the corner of his eye to note that you're rolling your eyes in annoyance, "Maybe Jisung's out of his mind."
"I'm not that bad!" You defend, quieting down once again when the memory of your admission flashes before your eyes in vivid details - the years of distance and silence that stretched between you because of it was hard - if that were to repeat itself now, when you're more used to him that you were before, you don't think you could bear it.  Or maybe you could but you don't want to.
It's enough to just have Jisung around and not be yours than to lose him by admitting.
"I'm not putting us in that position again just because of how I feel. It's kinda selfish, don't you think?" Your statement has a touch of finality to it that shuts Sunwoo right up, he wordlessly pulls up in front of the huge beach house, another jeep and the Comet Convertible is parked; before which far off near the shore, you couldn't help but notice the two unfamiliar figures by the boys, one of them is wearing a bikini, standing incredibly close to Minho, who's setting up their small grill, the other (and it makes your stomach turn) is talking animatedly to Jisung, he nods and smiles in that way that makes you think you'll never quite stop loving him. Chan is holding up his phone to take a picture. 
 Sunwoo honks loudly,  pulling you out of your trance. You can hear the I told you so sitting on the tip of his tongue when he shoots you a look of pity. You don't like it. The way that makes you feel like a toddler who can't keep herself from sticking her fingers into electric sockets in spite of being precisely instructed not to. Now, you think, the ‘I told you’ so would've been much more agreeable to your pathetic but injured emotions.
Jisung snaps his head around fast, raising his lithe digits to the air, waving at you languidly.  The girl spectates the exchange in an engrossed fashion, slowly routing her inquiring  gaze to yours in thought. Not all that seemed black and white is black and white between you.
"Are you coming?" Jisung screams over the noise and distance, away from the spot you're completely frozen in.  
(A pang in your chest tightens. Tightens. Tightens.  And you don't want it to mean something. But it does. It does and it always will.)
Minho once learned to set up tepee fires in scout camp, with twigs, a small heap of leaves, wood shavings and loosely screwed newspaper in the centre. Now, he only prides his younger self for setting up the fire once in their backyard and decides roasting marshmallows on the grill demands less of the expertise that he's lost overtime.
"I've actually heard a lot about you before we met." Sunwoo garbles out, clearing his throat.
You've been ignoring Jisung ever since you arrived. Now the group is sat down on the sand, in a misshapen circle, the two girls, now you know their names and the root of their invitation - Junhee and Shoshanna are merely bypassers the boys met when they arrived this morning. They're on a weekend trip like you and their visiting resident is a few houses away from yours. You wanted to act on your peevishness  and groan out a loud What are they still doing here?  everytime Shoshanna took the seat beside Jisung or asked him to set her marshmallows but that would, amongst other things, make you look like a crazy jealous idiot who has no right to step into a situation of that sort, even though Jisung seemed hesitant, cautiously looking at you every now and then. 
Jisung's brows rise and fall, gaze darting between you and your flatmate, surprised, "Is that right?"
Sunwoo laughs, "Yeah."  He chews carefully, trying not to choke, as if the source of his knowledge doesn't need to be pointed out. 
"Only good things I hope."
Skeptical, Jisung glances at you with a cocked brow, in case you oppose but you avoid his gaze, glaring down at charred marshmallow on the tip of the stick and thinking of ways to strangle Sunwoo, who chuckles at the former's apparent doubt, furrowing his eyebrows in bemusement, "Only good things."
"You're on the varsity swim team, right?" 
 With a mouthful of food, Sunwoo poses the question, the grin only widens when Jisung replies with an equally enthusiastic nod. 
"Did you know that this one can't swim?" He points his marshmallow stick at you, keeping his eyes trained on Jisung's surprised face. "I tried to  provide assistance." Sunwoo insists, "But when someone is really bad around water, like screaming at the top of their lungs-I'm going to drown in a kid's pool- bad, it's quite a challenging task."
Minho produces an animalistic laugh at this, patting his thigh like he's rendered a vivid image of your embarrassing experience while Chan shoots you a concerned look, as if sensing an underlying tension in the air that the others can't. You don’t know which one you dislike more.
"I can hear you, you know!"  You scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. Suddenly having lost your appetite. 
Sunwoo widens his eyes, with a hand atop his chest, mocking you,  "Really?"
You open your mouth to continue bickering with him because it was the only way you could hold yourself back from jumping across the sand and grabbing him by his collar in case that should stop him from further embarrassing you, but Jisung  interjects, blinking inquisitively at you.
 Jisung pouts. "It isn't that bad, you'll see, we can go for a swim anytime. That's what's the pool for anyway."
"Sungie,  I could use a swim now. Can we go, please?"  Shoshanna piped up jutting her lip in a way that made her more attractive, she hooked her arm with Jisung, pulling him to her side and he simply blinked at her, surprised by the gesture. Only you called him that  —  when did she pick that up? Why doesn't Jisung seem to mind at all? Are you seriously seeing what you are definitely seeing?
 Without meaning to, you imagine them floating about in the water, while she curled her arms around his neck to keep balance and him leaning down to grin invitingly.  And it feels like you're losing something.
You feel yourself jumping up to your feet. The sudden movement gains the attention of all your friends except Sunwoo, who keens on sparing you the smug grin which insinuates that he sparked the entire conversation intentionally.  You hope the universe would miraculously  render you telepathic powers so he'd start to choke on the stupid marshmallow. 
"Uh...I mean...I gotta." You gulp, "I'm going to go grab a beer."
Jisung frees his arm to get to his feet, powdery sand dusted off of his sweats.
"I'll come with you."
You walk in silence, wrapping your arms around yourself. In your peripheral, you catch the sight of his pockets swelled around the area he stuck his fingers in, you don't think Jisung's ever been that quiet. It makes you feel guilty. You're acting out because you simply can't get a grip and it seems to have taken a toll on him. You want to punch yourself in the face.
 It's not like you desire to stand in the way of his merry-making, it had to happen eventually, right? Jisung is free to get involved with whoever he pleases. He doesn't know how you feel and even if he did, you don't think he would reciprocate. 
And despite everything, your heart still aches for him. 
"Why are you avoiding me?" Jisung  tells you. There's a sadness to his voice that supplies that you can't escape this conversation because you simply cannot stand it when something prevents him from being his happy-go-lucky self. But you can delay it. 
You pull the fridge open slowly, scanning the items, alcohol, milk and a few other things that are necessary to spend the weekend. They definitely were newly bought. 
 Jisung pushes the fridge door wider, sighing, he pulls a can and hands it to you. "If this is about the girls, I'm not-"
"You don't have to explain it to me, Sungi—I mean, Jisung." You stare down at the perspiration collecting between your fingers and  the can, then set it down immediately in fear of it slipping out of your hands. Jisung stiffens at the transition, a faint look of pain flashing in his eyes. What did he do that is so wrong? 
You feel horrible for making him feel bad, aren't you supposed to be an adult? Aren't you supposed to have a strong grapple on your emotions? This isn't good for the two of you, you don't want to hurt him because of how you feel, Jisung needs you to be his friend and you can't accept, even after so long, that that's all you are to him. 
 "I don't think we should be friends anymore."
"What?" He purses his lips, furrowing his eyebrows. "Why?" He provides, raking a frustrated hand through his hair when your mouth parted instead of giving him an answer. "Did I do something? You could have just talked to me about it but..." He muttered shakily, repeating, "Why...this?"
Jisung glares at you, he looks so clueless, angry, blatantly hurt and  it's such a selfish thing to ask of him, the least you can do is be honest with him, though you couldn't fight the annoyance from seeping into your tone because he apparently had not a clue. 
"God, don't you see it?!" You placed a warm hand against your forehead, "I' love with you...I love you, okay?"
You start to panic when the tense expression melts into his  features, replaced by something you couldn't put a finger on, "Don't get me wrong, I don't expect you to reciprocate or anything. It's stupid, I thought I was over you but I'm…I'm not. And I can't...I can't watch you get on with someone who isn't me, especially when…" you trail, preparing to admit the truth to yourself once and for all, " don't already love me back. I can't...It'll hurt too much…" 
"So...I's better for the two of us to not continue this friendship anymore." You gulp, your palms shaking by your sides, those words have been taking refuge inside you for too long and saying them makes you feel empty, like you've lost something that keeps you grounded and you'd be aimlessly floating about for the rest of your life. 
"I know I'm asking for too much…"
Jisung interrupts you with a wry laugh, the sound startling you. He never spoke to you that way, not even when you argued before.
"Yeah, you're right, you are."
"Well, I'm sorry."  You breath out. 
He leans closer so your hip presses against the cool counter. He drags his fingers from the exposed skin of your collarbone to your neck, tilting your chin up with his thumb while the remaining digits splay against  your throat, "Sorry doesn't cut it." 
 The kiss sends a chill down your spine, prompting you to straighten up from your slumped position. Your knees feel like jelly, like they could collapse any minute. Jisung deepens the kiss, grazing his teeth along your bottom lip, he props you up on the counter and you sense yourself wrapping your legs around his waist, tugging on to his hair to draw out a groan from him; touching him feels so surreal, even though it's a reminder of just how real everything that's happening is. 
"I…" he breathes heavily, "I love you. I'm in love with you. I didn't know what to do with how I felt and seeing you just made me realise that I couldn't ignore it anymore. There were times when I couldn't help myself, I felt like I needed to see you when I couldn't, so I did, even if it meant I had to lie. I love taking care of you. I love our dumb inside jokes and I love the way we can't go long without talking. Hell, I love everything we do together." He chuckles, "But I didn't say anything because you told me you were over it. I... just assumed you were only interested in being friends with me." You don't think you've properly registered the sentences, maybe it's the suddenness of it all, maybe it's because you've never actually pictured this. You told yourself, this is how it's supposed to be, that Jisung was never supposed to feel the same. Just with that alone, you had axed your own foot, screwed yourself over more than anyone else did.
Jisung's face breaks into a sudden grin, he pecks your pouted mouth. "But I'm glad I was wrong." 
"Did you just kiss me?" You joke, touching his face, tracing your fingers against his cheeks, the skin glossy and pinkish under the touch, his pupils are blown to large black circles, the brown in them barely visible. 
"I don't know, did I?" Jisung deadpans, narrowing his eyes jovially. 
 He eases into the embrace when you slump against him in a tight hug. The chuckle comes out all muffled against the fabric of his t-shirt.
"Hmmm, can't be too sure."
You wrap your arms around his neck, it's like you just can't stop smiling. When you think about it, that's what being around Jisung was like, really. Your digits traverse from the side of his jaw to cup his cheeks, eyes peering into his. You watch as he blinks incredulously, there's something impatient about the way you look at him. Then you tilt your head and kiss him, gathering a faint taste of chapstick whilst your tongue prodded at his bottom lip. 
A low moan thrums against his chest, his mind failing to produce a single coherent thought. Because, God, he knows exactly what you're doing. 
This time the gesture is needy, desperate, as though to convey a strong desire to be completely consumed by him,  to be ruined by him. You raise your hips to brush against his lower abdomen, eliciting a low groan from his throat. 
"Baby not here." He breathes out, gauging your intention whilst resting his forehead atop yours. His palm traces the skin of your thighs, travelling up your sides, a free hand which rests at your neck coming to rest at your jaw. His delicate thumb journeys upwards, tugging your bottom lip out and then slowly retracting the digit. Somehow, the gesture makes his eyes darken even more, if that's possible. "Let's go upstairs."
You're so breathless and shocked and have your head stuck way  so far up  up in the clouds that the statement sounds imperceivable. "What?" You blink dumbly, with your hands on his shoulders.
A husky laugh made reverberates inside his chest, "We can’"
As if on cue, you whimper needily at the weight of the implication. The thought of what is to unfold upstairs making your throat close up. You understood the purpose of his statement, the rest of the boys would soon gather into the beach house because it was getting dark soon, the sky was gargling its throat in the distance too, it would rain and neither of you were keen on PDA.
Jisung's teeth graze along your throat, his fingers around it to keep your head pressed to the door while your thighs are snuggly bracketed around his lithe waist. His need is apparent when he grinds up into your body. You're all but putty under his touch.
It's dark. But you can still make out how absent the room's paraphernalia is, just a bed which is stripped to the bare essentials of a white blanket and scratchy sheet, giving away the fact that visits aren't made too often. You don't care about all that though, Jisung pushes you back against the mattress, pulling his shirt over his head before resuming his position on top of you. 
You can't understand how you kept away from him for so long. 
Between your short, bitten and misshapen fingernails, the word Premiere reads on the tickets  in bold red slanted letters. 
You can't believe what was once a figment of your imagination, a rubbish script you wrote whimsically on too much caffeine and too little sleep was going to unfold right before your eyes.
It's crowded inside the subway, you stare at the heads, faces, shirts, jackets, arms and legs and your heart is beating too loud, like you ran a marathon or drove a sports car way past its speed limit, rammed it into a tree and flipped it over.
 All the world's a stage and all men and women merely players.
(You should be scared, you should be scared, you should be scared.)
 Delicate, lithe fingers quickly travel down your palm to squeeze the tense digits at the end, his free hand is rubbing circles on the back of your neck; you stare into those brown eyes and without really thinking, press a quick kiss to his pouting lips, it's difficult, he keeps grinning against your mouth but you pay little attention to those things now. 
"That was a good move, champ." Jisung winks briefly, tracing his thumb along your cheek as he nuzzles his nose against yours, "You always kiss people on the subway?"
You grin, with a slow shake of your head, "Just the hot ones."
(This is a stage. And the passengers are waiting. The Tale Of Two Cities. The couple. The mother. Like that nightmare you used to have. 
But, you think, it doesn't matter now. It doesn't matter anymore. 
Because you've got your silver lining.)
431 notes · View notes