#my psych was like well do you feel you need anything from me? and i was like uhhhh i got my [redacted] under control now so i guess... no?

[destinygoldenstar]

Ninjago Dragons Rising Season 2 - Is It Good Or Nah?

So, I'm late to the party, aren't I?

Well I've had so much work that I think I'm having an existential crisis. So I had to wait till I had a free day to watch this season because I wanted to watch it with my GF.

We got to Episode 6, and then what did my boss do?

Slap me in the face with long work hours several days of the week.

I feel like I'm in a spiral of work after work after work with no purpose to life besides failure cause I can't trust myself to be capable at anything-

ANYWAY. We finished it now.

You know what the insane part about the season is? That it got the show trending on Tumblr.

That's an INSANE level of hype right there.

So I seriously had to ask myself "What the actual f**k happened in the show that caused THIS much hype?!"

So... here are my thoughts on the season.

SPOILER WARNING

Okay, so this may be a factor of my judgement, but due to my schedule, I was forced to watch only 6 Episodes one day, and then the last 4 Episodes today. Keep that in mind.

When it came to the first half of the season, was it good?

Yes. Obviously.

Was it living up to the insane level of hype?

Uh... not really for me??

Now, don't take that as a negative. This season is still REALLY good.

After the first season took awhile to get started as it needed to set up its characters and this new world, it makes sense for this season to throw the punches immediately.

The season gets started with its main plot right away with Ras immediately putting his plan into action, and by Episode 2, it's very clear the threat level he opposes and it's believable that we should be intimidated by what he wants.

Even though in Episode 2's fight, while AMAZINGLY choreographed, I was just screaming at the screen "HIT THE PERSON HOLDING THE GONG."

Like seriously, more than one of the characters in this fight can use projectiles with their powers AND they have a blaster in the Bounty, and the show never says that Ras has some sort of armor defense preventing him from getting blasted. He's literally standing out in the open. And the gong is clearly what's giving Cinder power. So HIT THE PERSON WITH THE GONG.

GOSH.

Anyway, that's not important. What's important is that this season's fight choreo is genuinely AMAZING. I am obsessed with the way the camera moves with the characters in these fights you have no idea. I was genuinely blown away by the last episode's fight in particular. But more on the ending later.

What also shocked me was how BRUTAL some of the stuff that happens here is, which caught me off guard.

I mean, Episode 2 has Euphrasia getting ambushed and crashed off the Cloud Kingdom with clear injuries, and Wyldfyre getting her leg SHATTERED. Like, WHAT?! HOW OFTEN DOES THAT HAPPEN?!! (Even though the latter's healing was unrealistic. Like, it would realistically take months for an injury like that to heal. Not a critique, just saying.)

Ras body slams Jordanna at one point. He puts Arin in a CHOKEHOLD. And also beats him up so brutally... like OMG this guy does not mess around.

The Fear Cave Trial also REALLY got me tripping. Not only was it such a visually appealing moment, but it also, as the same suggests, showed several character psyches that were insane.

Except Kai for some reason. That's gonna drive me NUTS until I get an answer. WHAT DID HE SEE-?!

Then we get to the dragon mentors, and...

Yeah the season kinda loses me in the middle.

Don't get me wrong, I love the character bits here as much as anyone. But with how dyer they made the threat of Ras before, Ras and his forces take a backseat in the middle portion of the season and we're mostly just sitting at these training grounds talking. And for four episodes of it? It's a little grating, even if it is important.

The middle is mostly where most of my issues with the season stand. And here's where I get all my negatives out of the way:

Like I said, because this season is so long, there's an awkward pause in the conflict on the dragons plotline to learn this Rising Dragon Technique. Which I wouldn't mind if it wasn't FOUR EPISODES of it.

With the exception of the attack at the Land of Lost Things ONCE, Ras's army doesn't go after the ninja at all. I can kinda get the dragons group since they didn't have Bonzle, but he has to know that they ARE a threat, right? They're obviously trying to figure out how to stop you.

And even with the group that has Bonzle, what they NEED, the forces that go after that group is the Administration and the one off magician man villain, the former really didn't need to be in this season even if it was for a compelling Jay cameo, and the latter has overstayed his welcome at this point and I just rolled my eyes when he showed up on screen.

I'm all for Cole being a badass as much as the next guy, but WHY this magician man, who at this point, is so disconnected with the main antagonistic forces that he serves no purpose?

Why not, I don't know, use this screen time instead to explain what in the world happened with Cole when he left?

Seriously, the first season had this huge cliffhanger with Cole's character and him going after Wu's ghost. I wonder what's gonna happen to him and what he's gonna find out-

Oh. He's just back.

That to me is a huge disappointment. What was the point of him leaving the Lost Family in the first place if this journey was basically nothing? He doesn't even talk about it! COME ON NOW.

Also I think Zane should get slay pass on the Administration guy that called him equipment. What do y'all think?

I don't like Egot. Or whatever his name was. He's very condescending and cryptic and talks down to his only hope of the world being saved. But I think I'm supposed to dislike him for it, and there's gonna be more of his characterization revealed later, so don't take this one as a critique. The female one is great though.

The sorceress lady was... a choice in the narrative. My one critique for the ending was the potion shenanigans. Not because they were bad, but because they just felt so out of place among everything else. Like, "Oh, this finale is too dark and intense! We need to occasionally cut to wacky shenanigans with this sorceress's magic to prevent kids from feeling too much dread!"

I don't know, for me, I would've placed this stuff with the Administration instead, and instead have the group fight Jordanna, lose, and have her get away and flow that to Arin getting to her. Especially since the Administration posed such little threat to them and they even say such.

(I also have a theory that this sorceress is Wyldfyre's birth mom. I have no evidence to back this up besides "They both have red hair and similar facial structure")

With Cloud Kingdom getting taken over and Euphrasia captured, I thought she would have more of a role to play in this since this is, you know, her HOME and she's their guardian.

But nope. She does next to nothing up until the very end and plays prisoner and waits for the ninja to save her.

For gosh sake girl, you're the master of wind. FLY.

And finally, my last critique, Cinder.

Yeah I'm sorry, I'm not buying this character so far. Not that I don't think he'll have anything to do in the second part, but for how threatening he was in Episode 2, that threat level kinda vanishes in the middle and only comes back at the end. He does next to nothing and we learn nothing about him other than "He likes power". Jordanna is probably more unlikeable, but at least she has conflict going on with Ras and her magic, and she still serves more of a role in the plan besides being a foot soldier.

And... yep. That's all my critiques for this season. Which all seem pretty minor.

You know what this season is real good at? Characters.

As though that wasn't obvious already.

I did NOT expect Bonzle to play any major role at all, I thought she was just gonna be the dry and cynical side character. But no. She has a history. She has a life. She has emotions. All of which REALLY shine through at the end when you hear her voice have more range in it. The VA killed it. I ended up feeling so bad for her.

Especially considering what happens to her.

They're also not even hiding it anymore with Geo x Cole. They're just NOT. I love them and I hope we see more of their relationship in the future.

I genuinely don't understand the critique of "Geo is so selfish referring to him as Cole's family when it's obvious Cole has other people in his life."

Well no shit, you ever heard of a character flaw?

But it's also a completely understandable flaw. You guys aren't forgetting the part where Geo was abandoned for being a mixed race, right? Of course he's gonna cling to someone as compassionate and encouraging as Cole.

The Jay cameo was nice. I expect him to play no role in this season, but it's really compelling what they showed and I was satisfied with it.

Lloyd's conflict was handled very well in my opinion.

What's it called when it's PTSD, but it's about future events rather than past events? Foresight Traumatic Stress Disorder? FTSD? Yeah let's go with that.

For a kids show that glosses over trauma, (That's not a Ninjago problem, that's a kids show problem), it was really refreshing for them to not do that for once. It's actually explored and talked about and Lloyd is given advice on how to cope with it, and he freezes up in panic attacks when these visions happen and-THANK YOU. THANK YOU FOR NOT IGNORING HOW HARD SOMETHING LIKE THIS IS.

Seriously, as someone who is going through stuff like this, minus the magic element, it spoke to me a lot. It really shows that this show grew up with me, and I both love and hate that.

I do think this sort of arc is going to hit hard for adults much more than kids.

Are kids constantly terrified of the future and getting paralyzed with these fears and finding it difficult to cope with the traumas that is time and human life?

No?

Kai is also a standout in this, especially towards the end. This is by far the best Kai has been in a long time in terms of quality. I love how one of his most significant flaws gets addressed here, that being his overreliance on himself and his own abilities over the others, who he feels responsible to protect.

And the way he grasps with that and learns to let loose like he did as a child back in the old days through what he loves the most, that being his family. And the flashbacks with him and his sister. And the whole sequence of him learning Rising Dragon - AUGH ITS SO GOOD.

How poetic is it that the character most devoted to family since childhood is only cocky and angry because of his own desire to be the one with power to keep them safe, gets power by letting that go, being a kid again, and joining the same roots as his own family?

AND THEN HE GIVES UP HIS LIFE FOR THEM-

And finally, Arin.

Oh you poor sweet, sweet child.

First of all, yes, I am completely subscribed to the theory that the show is building up Arin turning on the ninja and becoming a villain. It's all there. It all fits. The amount of times they say how sweet he is as though that's gonna get lost. The dragons, the creators of the world, the gods basically, telling him he's not good enough. Ras confronting him. Sora's stunt even after she's been the most encouraging of him, like the BETRAYAL there. It's all there. And I will be posting my theory scenario on this don't you worry.

BUT, I don't think that's the route they're gonna go. Kids show and all of that. They wouldn't do that to one of their main characters. Unless you're Star Wars. At most I think Arin will be tempted by Ras's master's power in an episode and even do it, but then with the power of love and friendship, it'll get fixed.

So instead I'd rather say that Arin, by far, has the BEST power crisis arc of the entire show so far.

I LOVE that he doesn't get powers. That's something the original show would've done. I LOVE that he doesn't figure anything out in the end and his inner doubts get proven correct. That's something the original show would not have the guts to do.

I liked Arin in the first season, but he didn't interest me too much. Mostly because Sora had the lion share of focus in the first season. Here though? He might just take the crown for THE most relatable character. And I both love and hate it so much.

Like, seeing everyone else succeed in mastery while you can't even figure out your own thing. You get told you have a natural talent and a lot of potential and that you're good at a lot of things, only for that to be put to the test in the real world and you end up letting everyone down. Even when your loved ones encourage you that you are good enough and you're special in your own way, you can't get those voices out of your head and you mess up again and again and again to try and meet the world's expectations. Then those in charge tell you you're not good enough and wasted potential. Then you try everything out in the real world anyway and you FAIL, and those that doubt you and your own insecurities get proven correct as you're left a broken mess of a young child who doesn't know what the hell they're doing-

I'M IN THIS SHOW AND I DON'T LIKE IT.

I probably love Sora more as a character, but I will admit I grasp towards Arin more right now. Sora's a great trans allegory in a world that hates trans people. But I'm not trans so I relate to it a bit less. Arin's a great autistic allegory in a world that doesn't know how to help autistic people. And I am autistic so I relate to it more. That's just a me situation.

I am so invested in where Arin's story goes from here. Evil or not.

So yeah, the season was good, but didn't completely live up to the insane hype, which, to be fair, is a high bar.

UNTIL THE LAST FOUR EPISODES.

And then all of a sudden, I AM SHOCKED AND SHAKEN TO MY CORE.

These last four episodes are an absolute emotional roller coaster that left me shaking and screaming the whole time.

I actually SCREAMED at multiple occasions.

I actually screamed so many times watching this that I am now HOARSE.

THAT'S how hard it hit me.

The story goes from 0 to 100 the moment the Blood Moon shows up. Which was what the whole season was building up to. And it did NOT disappoint.

The race to try and protect Bonzle. The intense visions and paralysis Lloyd suffers from. Ras and the army coming back to the plot to be absolute powerhouses. The last episode of DREAD the entire time to desperately try to stop this ritual.

HUMAN SACRIFICES?! AM I WATCHING A KIDS SHOW RIGHT NOW?!?!

I was begging for Arin to succeed at getting Bonzle to safety, even though I knew he stood no chance against Ras. "Come on Arin! You got this!! YOU GOT THIS, SWEETIE!!"

And then Ras just goes to TOWN on the poor boy and taunts his utter failure, which HURTS SO BAD MAN.

The entire fight with the army, Cinder, and Ras. The destruction of the mechs which knocks them unconscious for a bit. Kai figuring out Rising Dragon again when his family gets put in danger. The way Nya avenges her brother afterwards.

When Bonzle was getting morphed back into spell form, BEGGING, I was begging too.

But they still do it!

And KAI?!?!

I couldn't even process what happened other than me screaming. From the moment Ras alluded to sacrificing Kai against his consent, I was screaming "NO. DON'T DO IT."

AND THEN THEY SACRIFICE HIM.

LIKE HOLY GOSH THIS FINALE DID NOT MESS AROUND.

I predicted a while back, in the first season actually, that Kai was gonna get sacrificed at some point. Who's laughing now? I DID NOT WANT TO BE RIGHT.

Like, usually in Ninjago the character would be willing to sacrifice themselves for the others. But here? This is without Kai's consent at all. Ras might as well have killed him right here.

It definitely felt that way with the way the others react and BEG for his safety. The way Nya avenges him.

And Kai giving up his shot at escape for the sake of his family? BRO. WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

It hurts even more when you realize that when the Merge happened, Lloyd was ALONE thinking only he survived. He only gained hope again because of his reunion with Kai. His beloved surrogate brother!

AND NOW HE'S GONE.

NYA AND LLOYD LOST THEIR BROTHER.

WYLDFYRE LOST HER SURROGATE FATHER.

THEY THINK HE'S BASICALLY DEAD.

BRO. THAT'S SOUL CRUSHING.

And then Sora?! Why you gotta betray Arin like that?!

The most encouraging friend towards Arin, the person who held onto hope and praises for him the most, betrays that hope and doesn't trust him enough to get the winning blow himself. Then LIES about it.

GIRL. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!

That's going to be SO compelling once that gets outed. Like, morally, that was messed up and she was definitely in the wrong, BUT it led to the best possible outcome for them at the moment. They WON because she did NOT believe in Arin's abilities. Which only proves that the doubts about Arin's said abilities are correct.

And I have a gut feeling she's gonna learn Spinjitsu on top of that. And once that happens... double ouch.

Again, Evil Arin Theory.

I really hate to say it, but this reminds way too much of Arcane. If you know what I'm talking about.

I am totally imagining a situation similar to that in my head, that being a rescue mission for Kai, they decide to leave Arin out of it because of the lack of faith in him, he tags along anyway and he ruins their plan and Kai stays trapped there, Lloyd and Sora lash out on him for it, and before they can apologize they get thrusted back by something and Ras and Ras's master find Arin and take him in-

Again, I'll make a post about that.

The finale was by far the best part of this season. It has been a long time since Ninjago has made me HOARSE from being too invested.

That has not happened to me since Sons of Garmadon.

Because, yeah, I actually have NO IDEA where any of this is headed. How are they gonna save Kai and Bonzle? Why did some of Lloyd's visions not come true? What in the world is going on with Ras? Will the Administration help with that? Will the source dragons help with that?

What I probably do know is that Part 2 of this season is going to turn this into the best Ninjago Product since Tournament of Elements. Maybe even top it depending on my rewatches if my problems are still problems.

So... yeah. Good or Nah? Good. Obviously.

The hype is a little overblown to me, but it still deserves the hype.

#ninjago #ninjago dragons rising #dragons rising #dragons rising spoilers #ninjago lloyd #lloyd garmadon #ninjago sora #ninjago wyldfyre #ninjago kai #kai jiang #kai smith #ninjago nya #nya smith #nya jiang #ninjago zane #zane julien #ninjago arin #ninjago cole #cole brookstone #ninjago ras

[garbbitch]

Mine

1/2

jb x reader

inspired by Guilty as Sin? by Taylor Swift

also!! happy lesbian visiblity week!

after a long night you were finally in bed at 11 and like clock work your mind drifted to the one person you shouldn't be thinking about. you tossed and turned as thoughts of her flooded your mind. her eyes, her lips, her nose, those fucking hands, her tattoos. it was almost a ritual for you at this point. you met her at an event with naomi, they had convinced you to go with them cause katie and jo were busy, but julien had been on your mind ever since.

you grunted and turned over in bed.

YN: i could kill you

NAOMI: what?

YN: this is all your fault

NAOMI: what're you even talking about?

YN: i feel like i've caught the pleauge 🤮

NAOMI: eww stay away from me

YN: UGH not acutally

YN: it's julien

NAOMI: huh?

YN: JULIEN

YN: she's all i can think about

YN: and its your fault.

YN: i'm loosing sleep

YN: and when i do finally sleep i dream about her

NAOMI: eek!

NAOMI: don't talk to me about your weird freky sex dreams

YN: I NEVER SAID ANYTHING ABOUT SEX DREAMS

NAOMI: well, are they?

YN: shut up

YN: i'm going to sleep.

NAOMI: need batteries?

YN: 🖕

You threw your phone at the wall and stared at the cieling. this shit sucks. you swore the ceiling started to look like her. i’m going insane.

your mind drifted to her again, thinking of the 2 second conversation you had with her, you could’ve sworn she was flirting with you, but when her attention was pulled elsewhere it killed any hope you had in your mind.

[flashback]

“go talk to her, she’s super chill” naomi said to you after watching you gawk at julien from across the room.

“no” you said simply. “it’ll kill me, i can’t” that made naomi laugh quite loud and you whacked their shoulder.

“shut up” you said back to them.

you psyched yourself up enough to go talk to her. she was wearing a tank top with a button-up over it, it wasn’t buttoned up though.

As you walked over you felt your stomach drop to your toes, you started to turn back to naomi who practically pushed you into julien.

"OH MY GOSH! sorry! i didn't see you there" you spoke quickly as you stepped back from her.

"it's alright, you're good," she said gently, turning to face you. you stumbled backward and she gently grabbed your waist. "careful" she said softly, smirking a little.

"thanks," you said, your cheeks felt like they were on fire, and you were no doubt blushing.

"oh, i'm sorry. where are my manners. i'm julien," she said as she took her hand off your waist.

"i'm YN," you said gently, she held out her hand to shake yours. you shook her hand, you were suddenly conscious of whether your palms were sweaty or not. her hand lingered on yours for a moment.

"nice to meet you," you said as you met her gaze. someone came by, you loosely recognized the person to be phoebe.

"lucy needs you for somethin," she spoke quickly, not even turning to see who julien was speaking to. phoebe quickly pulled her away leaving you in the dust.

you walked back to naomi, “i wanna leave.” you said gently. naomi looked at you concerned.

“what happened?” they asked with genuine confusion.

“i don’t even know, some person named lucy needed her for something.” you said softly, you were a little sad the conversation ended so abruptly.

[end of flashback]

now you were in bed, staring at the walls, at the ceiling, and the ground. trying to get her off your mind. you started to doze off, still thinking about the way she held your waist.

the feeling of her hand rattled around your sleepy mind until you were fully asleep. you had no doubt it was gonna make you dream about her… again.

you were back at that party, but it was just you and julien, you guys were standing together talking like you were before you were interrupted by phoebe.

“it’s nice to meet you,” she said gently, her hand was still on your waist and she held out her hand for you to shake it.

you shook her hand and she brought your hand to her lips to kiss your knuckles. you blushed and she smirked.

“well, yn, you’re very pretty” she said gently as she looked you in the eye.

“you’re not too bad yourself.” you said as you blushed even more. you not so subtly checked her out and she noticed immediately.

“my eyes are up here.” she said softly, she was teasing you, and you were just letting her. you blushed even more, you were convinced your face was beet red.

she chuckled, “you’re cute when you blush” she said gently, you were convinced you were gonna explode.

“th-thanks.” you stuttered. she chuckled again.

“can i kiss you, pretty girl?” she asked softly, you guys were standing close together and you subtly stepped closer. you nodded.

“i need words, babes.” she said gently.

“please?” you mumbled softly, she closed the small gap between her lips and yours. as you kissed you were brought to a bed of clouds, both you suddenly laying on it together. [an: shut up, ik it doesn’t work that way but it’s a dream] she gently deepened the kiss making you moan softly. you tangled your hands in her hair.

“julien—” you moaned her name softly. she gently caressed your cheek.

“what’s the matter, princess?” she asked gently. your cheeks flushed.

“jules, i need you” you mumbled, she kissed you again.

“so cute.” she whispered before kissing your cheek and moving her lips to your jaw and neck. you moaned and tangled your hands in her hair.

she gently tugged on your shirt and you pulled it off before she could say anything. her mouth watered at the sight of your tits in your bra.

“wow—” she breathed softly, “can i- uh, kiss them?” she asked softly, you nodded.

“words, babes, words.” she said gently as she toyed with the strap on your shoulder.

“please kiss my tits.” you said softly. she chuckled and pulled your bra off before kissing both tits, giving them equal attention. she sucked on one, as she fondled the other. you were squirming beneath her. she pushed her leg between your legs.

“oh fuck— julien!” you moaned out, she smirked up at you.

“enjoying yourself, princess?” she asked softly, you nodded and she laughed softly. “so fuckin cute” she whispered as she kissed your stomach and made her way to the top of your jeans. you felt like you were on cloud nine.

“fuck julien—” you moaned. she looked at you with a smirk.

“what’s the matter baby?” she asked gently as she ran a tattooed finger over the button of your jeans. you whined softly. “words baby” she chastised.

“please j, please” you whined softly, she unbuttoned your pants real slow, kissing your hips and upper thighs as she pulled them down. you tried to move your hips in an attempt to get any friction where you needed her.

“so naughty” she teased.

your alarm went off and you groaned. fuck this. you tiredly walked to where you threw your phone the previous night.

UNKNOWN #: hey! it’s julien, from that party the other day.

UNKNOWN #: is this yours? [insert picture of a hair-clip]

your stomach did a backflip. what the fuck?

[THE END]

AN: don’t be mad at me for the abrupt end. there’s a reason.

#julien baker fluff #julien baker smut #julien baker x reader

[shojizbae]

Gone South

Spencer Reid x Reader

This was not edited so if there’s hella typos I’ll prolly fix it later

Warnings: angst/comfort, gore, torture, attempted SA

Things could not have gone worse.

The case had been going on for a week and a half. Everyone was exhausted. And now, you were gone. Well not gone, the team had clear visuals via the many cameras the unsub (the team knew his name, Cooper McNamara) had set up. Garcia was monitoring you from the seven angles Cooper had.

The team always takes it to heart if someone gets hurt. But, when someone got taken in. When Spencer had been taken by Tobias they felt like the world stopped spinning. Now their sun had been stolen.

That’s how the team refers to you—human sunshine. Now you were gone. There, but gone. Penelope was monitoring each feed with tears in her eyes.

“All right, mama, any luck triangulating the IP address?”

“No Derek I’m sorry it keeps rerouting to different locations.” Her voice keeps cracking and she’s doing her best not to let her tears drip onto her expensive keyboard.

“That’s okay, just keep working on it.” He grits his jaw

“Derek,” he removes his hand from the hang-up button, “you’re going to get her right? There’s no way this guy gets her.” The hope in voice is palpable

“No way mama you just keep tracking her.” He sighs and spins to the team. Rosie has his eyes on the feed as well as McNamara is hovering over you. You’re strapped to some medical tables with old leather straps.

“Reid please tell me you’ve got something.” Spencer is a wreck. Everyone could tell that he was madly in love with you but he would not make a move. Now someone could strip naked in front of him and it could not break his focus.

“I’ve been staring at this map and going over everything she’s sadi since JJ put this on the screen. I have no idea where she is.” His hair is beyond tousled form the amount of times he’s stressfully run his hands through it

“That’s fine, just keep going.” Morgan demands and joins Hotchner with the deputy

“Hotch, team’s loosing morale. We gotta go back to the drawing board.”

“That’s what I was thinking. Let’s refresh and restart the profile.” they get some shitty police precints coffe and some stale donuts to try to revamp their energy. They join Emily and JJ at a table and ask JJ to get David. She disapears and Rossi takes her place rubbing his eyes.

“Dave, we’re going to look at this iwht fresh eyes. Coopers has gone off the reailsand taken in an FBI agent. That’s an escalation from prostitutes and drug addicts.” Morgan reflects on when you disapeared. You were canvasings where he had picked up his last three victims. You were being your usual sunny self. giving patience to the angry locals and offering water or snacks as a subtle bribery. He turned his back for five seconds when you disapeared. He was feeling the brunt of the guilt and it was manifesting as him acting like an overly abusive boss.

“Alright, on all of the victims there was several injections in their back thigh, but toxicology was clean.” Emily looks over some of the reports.

“Did you say the back of the thigh?” Reids suddenly comes storming into the meeting room

“Yeah, why?” Morgans eyes are begging for answers

“That spot reminds me of something. Often times when a psych ward patient is acting out they will inject them with certain medications. The most common sedtive is Midazolam but most of them are comprized of natural hormones. If you inject the body with enough adrenaline they would pass out.”

“Which would explain that why it doesn’t show up on toxicolgy.” Emily concludes. Reid bounds over to the phone and calls Garcia, she picks up almost immediately

“What is it my birds of prey?”

“We need you to look into asylums and sanitariums nearby. Look for medical malpractice or lawsuits that slipped through via non compus mentus. look into owners of these hospitals that may have some allegations specifically of sexual nature.” he demands

“Anything, find my girl.” she clicks away looking through all the yucky of the nearby hospitals. They were in the middle of the midwest where everyone had secrets.

“They’re going to need a private space to inflict a much torutre without raiing suspicion.” Hotch adds

“Guys you need to get in here!” JJ calls from the computer room. The man was livestreaming you leaning over your head and heavily breathing on your face.

“Oh, you want me so bad.” He used a sultry tease but you looked disgusted. You were staring hard in his eyes. You had dirt and a bit of blood smeared on your face and your normally slicked bun had been tugged apart.

“Tell me, Ms. ‘FBI agent’,” he finger quotes and uses a mocking tone “What your name.”

“You have my badge Cooper McNamara, you know my name.” your gaze hardens more and it looks like you could spit in his face, “Tell me where we are.” you order. If you could get out you would have beat that man to a pulp but your wrists, ankles, waist and chest were bound.

“Unh unh unh, don’t get too cocky, Ms. FBI we both know who has the power here.”

“He’s a narcisist. He’s flexing his muscles on (Y/n). He wants his viewers to know that he’s strong enough to take down an FBI agent.”

“It’s more like he’s preening his feathers.” Emily offers

“Alright, my fabulous frenulum I’ve got three asylums with icky enough histories to raise suspicion in the 50 mile radius.”

“50 miles that seems extraneous.” JJ sighs

“I figured becuase this is the midwest there’s more ground to cover alos they’re not going to keep your cuckoos in the town square.” The Deputy nods in approval

“But that’s too vague so I cross referenced that with the nme Cooper McNamara and zilch. I went thorugh med school flunkies in the known area. I kept running the name and there are zip

Cooper McNamaras in this area. So I just used the last name Mcnanara and there was a doctor named Charles Mcnamara with a son named Jeffrey was in and out of juvie at the age of seventten for attempted sexual assault.”

“What’s his current adress We’ll send a team.” Reid declares

“That’s not your call,” Derek orders, “But yes, Hotch, Prentiss, you go to his house and see if there any clues as to which hospital he’s affiliated with.”

‘Cooper’ was hovering over you this time dragging a swiss armry knife slowly over your shirt

“Alright I’m going to do some bad things Ms, Agent and you’re going to be a good girl.” He’s straddling the chair and he laughs a little at you. Quickly he slices the blade across your shirt and it comes undone with the blade. Your bra is exposed as well some of your navel. The team can clearly see the red cut across your chest.

“Oh my god what is that slimeball doing to my girl.” Garcia whimpers

“Garcia she’s fine, continue your background search of the McNamara family.” Hotch reassures

mostly to himself

“So far I’ve got some ick-ick icky dirt on Charles. He had to his medical liscene in pschiatry suspened 17 years ago, when his son, Jeffrey was around ten years old.”

“Why was it suspended?”

“Medical malpractice and the excessive use of electro-shock therapy.”

“the use of ETC is almost never necesarry in fact it dos more damage than it helps.” Reid borws are in a constant furrow. Theyre drawn out of their brainstorm a ‘Cooper’ shreds the rest of your shirt open.

“I’ll hand it you,” He reaches for the cup of your bra, “you have have some tits officer.” you grunt out a ‘fuck you’ as he fondles you.

“Maybe I just will,” He sneers. He makes the fatal mistake of looking at the cameria kense and you follow his eyeline. You spot the lense and by memory locate the six others. You feel some internal relief that at least the team knows you’re alive and they’re watching you.

“you get off on rewatching this or are we live? Or maybe you’re recording?”

“Oh someones mouthy.”

“I’m just bored.” You taunt

“What is she doing?” JJ Panics

“She’s getting him to talk. Shes profiling him. She’s our profiler.” David smiles and the team too feels your humanity return. You’re not a victim. Not yet at least. You’re still their wisecracking little sunray.

“You bitch, I’ll shut you up.” He reaches for his belt and launches at you. Your first instict wa to bare your teeth shut so he can’t slip something in your mouth. Your mouth is shut tight and he relaxes.

“Good choice.” he snorts

“He doesn’t want to hurt her.” David notices “She’s way too powerful for his comfort. He knows she’s smart.”

“If he’s able to get his website to continue rerouting we should probably verify that Jeffrey McNamara has some sort of tech background” Reid metions and Garcia digs into Jeffrey’s background it shows that 5 years ago he flunked out of the local community college with a major in computer science. Finally, the IP adress lags on the same three cell towers for the fourth time and Penelope Verifies that there are two sanitariums in that radius.

“Alright there is St, Joan of Arc’s Penitentiary and Whitfeilder and Collins Mental Institution.” Garcia clicks away.

“Garcia isn’t there a church nearby-“

“St. Joan of Arc’s Holy Parish.” She cuts off getting a small burst of hope

“Alright cross reference that with our boys see if we could get any dirt.” Rossi orders as you stare this torturous serial killer in the eye

“I think my knife and I should have some fun with you, pig. Are your gonna squee for your boss.?”

“He doesn’t know I’m here.” Everyone freezes

“What’s she doing?” JJ begs

“What do you mean?”

“I was only asking locals if there was something they needed. I work in the low income control division of the FBI. I was on a routine check of the neighborhood to makme sure that some new medications that were sent out in the local clinic.”

“Oh so you’re one of those libtards who thinks junkiw should get freebies?” your eyes dart quickly to the blinking red light while he inspects the red tool. He flicks his swiss army knife back open and runs it tantalizingly down your chest, “Oh no tears agent? Usually they start crying by now. Don’t worry you’ll cry soon.” He sinks the blade in right by your ribs. You grit your teeth as warm blood spills down your side.

“What’s she doing? why would she egg him on?” JJ starts to break

“She’s giving us the element of surprise.” David sighs in relief

“Oooh someones a tough girl.” He teases. He slides his blade across your stomach and your muscles tense below the blade. Tears pool in your tear ducts against your wishes and a grin splits his face like the cheshire cat.

“There you go. don’t worry it’ll all be over soon.” He fakes a soothing voice

“Ding ding ding, Ive got a hit. There was an latar boy who plead secial assault twenty years ago at St. Joan of Arcs and I mangaed to dig through the St Joan Hospital emplyment record to find one Dr. Charles McNamara employed for over thrity years where he specialized in child psychology.” Garcia gulps, “He spent a weekend in jail for assaulting the preist who allegedy molested his son, Jeff. Afterwards he deovolded. He started drinking lots of alcohol and expirementing with electro shock therapy. After three years of nearly fatal expirements He lost his liscense after a one Suzanne ’Suzie’ Addams passed due to exhaustion in his office.”

Rossi’s hand held rings and he answers the phone for Hotch

“Well Dave it’s not looking good here. There’s news paper clippings with every know victim taped to his wall. Theres even some miscellanoes crime pannels logging there recent spike in missing persons cases. There’s very little furntiure at his house. He’s got bills stacked up on his counter. He’s a walking cry for help.”

“Alright any other pysical evidence? We’re going to send a team to St. Joan of Arcs Penitentiary that’s where we suspect he has (Y/n). You keep digging around and we’ll stay in touch.”

Derek orders JJ, and Reid to suit up and gather the officers. Reid already has his hand reaching for his bulletproof vest. “Rossi I want you to stay behind on the line with Garcia and Prentiss in case he escalates the torture. Due to the agrarian location of the hospital they dispatch forest rangers to canvas the woodlands. The sanitarium had been closed for upwards of five years. Reid get’s the drivers seat and starts the car before Derek can get out the door.

“Slow down man we got visuals on her.”

“One of our best Agents is in danger and we have a location. Why wouldn’t we race off to her?” He slams his palm on the drivers wheel.

“Alright well calm down man,” As he tries to soothe hsi phone rings

“He’s back Derek.” Rossi states plainly sending the link to his phone. And impressive feat for the old man, Morgan gets in hte dirvers seat and clicks the link to see the man sitting on your lap palming himself.

“You know you’re kinda pretty for a pig.” He leans forward and hold your jaw and you gnash against his hold, “Oh oh oh let’s not get violent now.” you bite his hand and he draws it back immediately, “You bitch!” he slaps you and you gasp but he quickly undoes his buckle and reaches for the fly of his jeans. He slides the leather out of the denim loopholes and folds it once and puts it in your mouth. He reaches in his pants and you thrash against your holds.

Jeffrey fishes himself out and you slam your head against the medical table. Your time your cheek and grit your jaw but he forcefully pull you square with him. The look of indigence could’ve killed several monarchies and Rossi takes a note not to piss you off as not to receive that glare. Derek puts the screen down and grits his jaw. theres a bit of gagging before the man rears backs

“You bitch! You bit me?” He screams like you betrayed him and he punches you so hard your nose starts bleeding. Tears slip out of your eyes but you don’t dare sob. He leaves the view of the camera and the team hears metal crashing around the sounds cords being plugged in. He curses and punches what sounds like a metal box. He comes back with two metal probes and a menacing smile.

“You’re gonna get it now. You know what these are?” He waves them around like they’re toys “these are the electrodes I’m going to use on you.” Reid floors it as he hears the button click on and a distant buzzing sound fills the film.

“Here,” he violently pulls his belt from his jeans, “wouldn’t want you to shatter those pearly whites.” This is the one command you will obey. You take the folded material between your teeth because if you do survive this you’d rather not waste your vacation bonus on orthodontics. And if you didn’t you at least would like to have a nice smile in the after life.

Morgan and Reid peel out of the town sirens ablazing. They try not concentrate on it as you scream around the hunk of brown leather between your teeth. Not matter how much he concentrates on the road ahead of him he count every bawl you let escape. Every time he makes a mental note. As he takes the exit that lead to the woods he sighs, seven. He pictures your sun shiny smile in the morning.

How you would skip over to his desk with an extra-sweet cup of coffee and a good joke you had heard on your weekend away to New York. Eight, he thought of how intently you had listened to him ramble about string theory on the plane ride over and how when he stopped himself to apologize you begged him to keep going.

Nine, when the case came around the table your eyes darkened with a bit of sorrow which was drowned by your hope and determination to crack it. Now you were ten, letting him practice brewing your hair in a motel just because the skill fascinated him. Man your hair was so soft and smelled to good. And you just melted under his hands as he apprehensively finger combed it.

The sanitarium is in the middle of the woods. A small commercial concrete building. There officers confirmed that there was a car out back and garcia checked the plate regitration was for a Charles Mcnamara. They quietly burst through the front doors which were ajar. Spencer lead the charge follwoing the sounds of your pained screams. He runs down a flight of staris and kicks it open. Despite his panic for his coworker Morgan was incredibly proud of Reid for kicking it open.

McNamara is straddled over you and he swings his head to see Reid. Before anything can happen Spencer shoots him in the knee and Morgan barks an order and jumps on the man. Reid bolsters his gun and darts over to you. You look a mess. Blood and possibly some other body substances on you. He slides the belt out of your mouth and you lick your lips. He sits by your side and undoes the buckles on your wrists

“Hi (Y/n),” He sighs soothingly. Your eyes are locked on his and there’s something animalistic and wounded in them.

“Spencer?” your voice is broken but there is so much hope

“Yeah I’m here,” He works the second buckle off your wrist. “You did so good.” he reassures. He undoes the strap across your chest and you sit up and rub your wrists. He takes a step back to unshackle your ankles. Once you’re free, you swing yor legs to the side of the medical chair. Spencer stands next to you and guides your arms arond his neck. You sink all your weight against his chest and he gently coaxes an arm under your knees and picks you up.

“I did good?” You start sobbing into his chest

“Yeah you did fantastic (Y/n). and your safe now, I’ve got you.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #mathew gray gubler #torture #angst with a happy ending

[protect-namine]

they say go to a psychiatrist or get therapy but what they don't tell you is that it's very hard to advocate for yourself especially when the thing working against you is yourself and it takes a long time to start making any kind of progress until you and your therapist or psychiatrist are on the same page on what your actual issues are. and sometimes you really need someone who is skilled and patient enough to help you even get to a point where you can articulate your own problems

#mine musings #my psych was like well do you feel you need anything from me? and i was like uhhhh i got my [redacted] under control now so i guess... no? #and like. idk i think i'm just not a good patient lmao bc a lot of her questions i just answer idk because i really! don't know!! #idk what the question means or how to answer them #and like. my therapist is better at getting stuff out of me so she's great but she asked me to go to a psychiatrist to get diagnosed and #we just did not have the same uhh. rapport? is that the word? anyway whatever i just couldn't click with her #was it just not a good fit or was i supposed to Try Harder or maybe this really is it

[piplupod]

mother: "theres this great job where you'd be on-call to come in!"

me: "ahhh i don't really want to be on-call, that would stress me out a lot because I'd always be on edge,,"

mother: "no you wouldn't, you could make it your thing!"

me: "...my thing?"

mother: "being on call! it'd be great! :)"

me: "i would probably be crying like... a lot ahaha. because I would always be on edge never knowing when to expect having to go into work, yknow?"

mother: "nooo, you could just make it a thing!"

me: "sorry, what do you mean by thing?"

AND I NEVER FOUND OUT !!

#i feel very ill fdsjkl tonight was ... not good #not the worst definitely not the worst #just. a lot of diet talk and making fun of other ppl that she expected us to all laugh at (and we did. idk if they found it funny.) #and brother labelling some influencer having rape charges against him just ''internet drama'' #number one: i dont want to hear about that. number two: that is not just ''drama'' that is like. serious. what the fuck is wrong w youuuu #my mother will say that all the food i eat is very bad for me and do that while knowing full well i struggle to eat Anything #and say that simply Adding things to the diet is pointless bc ur poisoning urself still! u have to Take Out things! i cant fucking do that! #im still baffled that two years ago when i tried to go to them for help when i was almost fainting from not eating they just shrugged at me #''okay? why are u telling us this?'' BECAUSE YOU ARE MY PARENTS. AND I AM TRYING TO GET HELP. #i should've known better than to try tbh but like. its so hard to completely let go of every sliver of hope that they'll... be kind #like me saying i was feeling suicidal a few yrs ago just garnered a ''oh don't start this again. we're not doing this again.'' #and me admitting my own damn self to the psych ward just had her telling me ''i dont think you actually needed to go :/'' #mother dearest if it werent for the other fuckers in the brain (caused by you abusing me) then i would've been dead several times over #i am so fucking tired i am so sick of these ppl it is so incredibly painful and terrifying that this is supposed to be my family #this is the one support system i get in life. and it is no support system at all. i am fucked !! i am so unbelievably fucked!!! #i know other ppl make it thru but they are much stronger than me. i am lacking something that they all have lmao. i am cowardly and weak!!! #i have been trying so fucking hard to figure out how to like. make this work. how to survive in this society and its just. impossible #i think we're back to the clock ticking down as my bank account runs out #i cannot be employed and ppl keep telling me disability won't accept me so i am just. unanimously fucked over i suppose #i have two years !! two years until i run out of money!!! thats a lot of time!! to make all the art i want to make!! #i will make this work for these two years i will cope and make my art and disconnect and daydream through the intolerable parts #i will make these two years so good sdfjkl im gonna make it to the end of them #sorry this is all coming flooding out fsjdkl i've just tried so hard to be like. positive abt things and laugh abt things and be okay #im tired of trying to make it okay fdsjkl i am wallowing tonight i guess. boohoo poor little me fdsjkl i'll probably get over it soon #just need to like. let a little of the pressure leak out so i don't completely crack and do smth stupid #it will be okay !!! or as okay as it can be !!! this will be blocked out by tomorrow morning probably!! #or it'll have to be LMAO i have my silly old lady yarn group tomorrow and i need to be Normal for that #suicide tw #abuse tw #ed tw

[peachesofteal]

Hi! Very personal peach stuff beneath the cut, don't like don't read. (tw for mental health and medication)

If you haven't figured it out by now, I am bipolar. I've talked about it here and there in very broad, non specified terms but haven't really done a post where I say it point blank because I just never felt the need, however, I do feel like we've built a pretty supportive, lovely community here and I wanted to explain where I am mentally and why updates might be lagging (as I've gotten a few messages asking about SM and DD). I also think it's important to you know, talk about it a little bit. When I was younger, I would have really liked to talk to someone who had their head on straight and lived a happy, fulfilled life on medication. I would've liked to talk someone who made it through. Maybe me talking about it will make someone feel less alone, or less scared (because once upon a time, I was fully fucking terrified). Or maybe it won't do anything, who knows.

Also, let me be clear: I am not ashamed of who I am or how my brain works, I just feel this has always been too personal to share on here. I'm starting to shift my perspective on the sharing bit, a little. Obviously.

Anyway, the winter to spring transition can be really rough if your brain is spicy like mine. I know most people love the days getting longer, the sun shining on their face, the sky turning brilliantly blue everyday, winter turns to spring and you might get a little bit of spring fever, a little bit excited, inspired, etc... and I feel that way too, except it makes it way too easy to roll upward into mania. It's like one stumble or fall- and the next thing you know you're falling down the rabbit hole. Mania is not some fun little day trip where you get bangs and stay awake until the sun comes up, it is not the romantic mood swing that some people think it is, it is dangerous and could potentially derail my life.

I am feeling particularly... "disrupted" this spring, and have been working really hard to keep the boat from rocking, so to speak. I am overall a very healthy, well managed person (on medication- that saved my life) but the boat is rocking a little bit, and things may need to be leveled out, or adjusted. It takes time and patience, and I am very grateful to have quality care (my psych is the best) that knows me very well and hears me out.

The good thing is I'm still writing little by little and hope to have updates for ongoing works up soon, and in the mean time, if you need someone to talk to, if you feel like you can relate to this, I'm here. I appreciate your patience and understanding in regard to the delay in updates!

#also this could very well end up being deleted so #personal shit #this is like soooo personal idk if it will stay up but it felt good to get it out #tw mental health #tw medication

[nvrsaidiwasinurcloset]

hii, idk if this is too complex but could you maybe do ethan landry x fem reader smut where he died (we all know the plot in scream 6) but like here he was just supposedly dead and actually alive but spent a few months in a psych ward and during this the reader is his ex girlfriend as they broke up one year before the events from 2023 since she didn’t want to accept him killing people for revenge but as months passed, she found out that he “died” so she took care of everything in his place, killing the core four and all and at that point she became very depressed as she still couldn’t get over him but then he suddenly appears in her life again (idk how tho, this can take place in the forest or at her house or idk) it can start a bit angst and then leading to smut with them being a bit eager as they haven’t done it in a long time. you can mention ethan having some scars somewhere on his face btw! (srry again if this is too complex 😭)

My sweet, SWEET anon. I finally have this done, thank you for being so patient with me💕 I appreciate you messaging me so I could run some ideas I had by you lol

Meet Me at Our Spot - Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader

This contains SMUT - Minors DNI

Summary: You think Ethan died at the theater, so you got revenge. He isn't dead though, and you run into him at your spot.

A/N: Hi! The anon that requested this messaged me earlier to help me with some plot ideas I had, cause you know I'm a bitch that LOVES a plot. If you guys have requested something and I haven't written it yet, it could be that I'm stumped and trying to figure it out. Just message me if you're like...damn why's she taking so long lol.

“Get the fuck out!” You screamed at Ethan, as tears streamed down both of your faces.

“Why are you doing this?” he cried, his eyes pleading with yours.

“I can’t be with someone as cold-hearted as you,” you snapped, nudging him out the front door and slamming it in his face.

That was the last time you saw Ethan. After you accidentally overheard the plan his family concocted to get revenge for Richie’s death, you called him out on it. He argued that it’s what he needed to do, and that you should love him regardless. You couldn’t, not if he was going to spend the rest of his life in prison, or worse, end up dead. You were hoping the break-up would make him realize that he shouldn’t do it, and just stay with you. He didn’t though, starting college not even a month later. You stayed home, opting for online courses like you both originally planned on doing.

When you saw the news that people had died in the same area of his university, you knew he had something to do with it. You couldn’t reach out to the cops, because his dad was a well-respected detective. No one would believe you. Plus, your own safety would be at risk. Ethan made that perfectly clear during your heated argument.

Your heart sank when you heard about what happened at the abandoned theater. When you saw that Ethan was one of the suspects, and that he was found deceased, you couldn’t control your emotions as you wailed in the otherwise silent house. After you read about what happened to him, you started to understand why he felt like he needed to avenge Richie’s death, because that’s exactly how you were feeling. You wanted to get back at the people who took him from you.

You started with Kirby. She was the one that ultimately took him from you. You started to feel satisfied, but you knew you couldn’t stop until they all died. You went to Chad and Mindy, then Tara and Sam. Even with you finishing what Ethan and his family started, you still felt so empty without him.

You never read anything else about Ethan after you did what you needed to do, the thought of him being gone made you too sad to even think about it. You did keep tabs on what was happening in the investigations into your crimes, but they never had any leads. If you had kept up with the news on Ethan, you would’ve seen that the first news reports were wrong, and that he did survive.

The attempts to keep your day-to-day life normal became impossible. Your parents were always traveling, so you mostly had the place to yourself. All you wanted to do was lay in bed and cry, your living space reflecting that. You finally decided to get up and clean, coming across so many little gifts and things Ethan had gotten you over the two years you were together. When you came across the first note he wrote to you when you were juniors in high school, you started to sob. His handwriting on the page in front of you made you feel like you had a piece of him. Then, you saw the ‘Meet me at our spot’ at the bottom of the page. The spot he first told you he loved you.

He was so nervous that day, his cheeks pink as he finally got those three words out, terrified that you wouldn’t say it back. You did, though. You knew with everything in you that you were meant to be with him. You thought back to the times that you’d pass him in the hallway on your way to class, the two of you not having much time to talk. He’d say “forever” as his eyes connected with yours, and you’d always say it back. It was so simple, but he wanted you to know how much he loved you, and that you’d always have his heart.

You slipped your shoes on before heading out the door. You knew you needed to go to the spot in the woods that the two of you would always go whenever you needed to get away from life. You sat on the log you’d always sit on, crying as you touched the empty space beside you.

“I miss you so fucking much,” you sobbed, letting out so many emotions. The anger, the sadness, and the heartache overwhelming you.

“I never thought I’d see you here,” you heard, as the leaves crunched behind you.

Your head snapped in the direction of the voice, your chest getting tight as you saw Ethan standing there.

“Fuck, I really am going crazy,” you cried, taking a deep breath.

You didn’t want to look away. Even if this was a figment of your imagination, seeing him was something you so badly needed.

“You aren’t crazy,” he said, stepping closer to you.

You noticed some scars on his face, but he was still beautiful. Your heart swelled as you shut your eyes tight and reopened them, to see him still standing there.

“I’m real. I told you; you aren’t going crazy.”

You stood up and started to walk a little closer to him. His brown eyes met yours before looking at the ground, his facial expression unreadable.

“Ethan…How?” was all you got out, your brain not fully processing what was happening.

“It doesn’t surprise me that you didn’t keep track of what happened to me,” he said, turning around to walk in the opposite direction of you.

“What the fuck do you mean? You died! It was all over the news!” you yelled, as he kept walking. “Ethan, please stop.”

He stopped, his back still turned to you.

“How could you just break up with me like that? How could you just throw me away?” he said, finally turning to look at you. Tears stained his cheeks as he waited for you to respond. He’s waited over a year for an answer. “Forever must not mean much to you.”

“It doesn’t?! Then why did I finish what you started? Why did I kill for you?” you snapped, as his eyes grew wide.

“That was you?” he asked, “You’re so stupid!”

He quickly walked back towards you but kept a few feet of space in between. It was like he was too scared to get close.

“I understand why you wanted to do what you did for Richie. I couldn’t stop thinking about the people that hurt you being out there, living their lives when yours was over,” you sobbed, as he wiped the tears from his cheeks. “I said forever, and I meant it.”

He closed the space between the two of you, his lips connecting with yours. The kiss was aggressive, like you both needed it so badly for so long that you never wanted your mouths to stop moving. His hands were roaming everywhere he could reach. Your hips, your ass, your breasts. Every new area he touched had you whimpering into the kiss.

He pulled away, looking into your eyes. “I need you, baby.”

You knew what he meant; his tone full of lust. You looked around at the dead leaves and twigs on the ground, realizing that it wasn’t the most comfortable place for you to go at it for a long time, which is what you fully intended on doing.

“My parents are out of town. Let’s go,” you said, grabbing his hand as you ran with him through the woods back to your place.

Once you made it inside the front door and closed it, he shoved you up against it. You were both breathing heavy from the running, and from the anticipation.

“Have you fucked anyone since me?” he asked, his eyes dark as they looked into yours.

“No, I’ve only wanted you,” you said, as he started to smirk.

“Good, because that pussy belongs to me,” he growled, before roughly kissing you. Your arms went around his neck as his hands went to your waist, lifting you off the ground. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his hips. You could feel his cock though his jeans as it pressed against your ass, the feeling making you moan against his lips.

He carried you over to the couch, not wanting to waste a single second of time. You only pulled apart from the kiss when you both took your shirts off. You noticed the scars on his shoulder and chest, gently running your fingers over them as he started to unbutton your jeans.

You couldn’t help but wonder what the full story was. What happened after you thought he was dead?   Those thoughts were quickly pushed to the side as he slid your jeans and panties down in the same motion.

“You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted to taste you again,” he said, leaning in and licking your clit.

“Oh shit,” you whined, your fingers going to his hair as his mouth moved faster against you. “Fuck I missed you eating me out.”

He moved his mouth lower, his tongue dipping inside your dripping core. He kept moving his tongue, the sounds flooding out of your mouth going straight to his throbbing cock.

He moved back up to focus on your clit as he slid a finger in you, before adding another. Your pussy was sucking his fingers in as the wet sounds filled the room.

“Oh fuck, right there!” you cried out as the pads of his fingers moved against that special spot inside of you. “Fuck, just like that. Yesss.”

You started to move your hips against his fingers and mouth as his free hand had a strong grip on your thigh. It didn’t take long for his fingers to move faster, and that feeling you hadn’t felt in so long started to creep up. Yeah, you’d been able to get off a couple times by yourself, but nothing ever compared to how Ethan does it.

“You’re going to make me cum,” you whimpered, the intensity of the feeling getting stronger and stronger as your hips started to jerk. Ethan just kept going, his fingers and mouth not slowing as tears started to slip down your face. The orgasm was so strong as you babbled out, the things you were saying not making any sense.

When you started to relax onto the couch and your hips stilled, he slid out his fingers. You whined at the emptiness, as he started to laugh. “God, baby, you’re so needy.”  He quickly got out of his jeans and slid his boxers down, not wanting another second of time to pass without him being inside of you.

He crawled on top of you and lined up at your entrance. You squealed as he slid inside of you, the fullness making your breath hitch in your throat.

“Fuck, so tight,” he groaned, “I missed this so fucking much.”

“I missed it too,” you moaned, as he started to thrust harder. “Oh fuck!”

You were whining as his hips pounded into you, the relentless pace turning your brain to mush. He started to slow down a little, not wanting to cum too quickly.

“Let me ride you, baby,” you whimpered, “Please, I need it.”

He groaned at your words, sliding out long enough to sit on the couch. You straddled him as he gripped the base of his erection for you to sink down onto him.

“Oh my god,” you whined out, as your hands held onto the back of the couch and his hands went to your breasts.

He massaged them before taking one of your nipples into his mouth, moaning around it as your hips started to move quicker. He noticed you weren’t going all the way down, his size a little too much for you to handle.

“Aww, baby. Is it too much for you?” he asked sweetly, before grabbing your hips and fucking the rest of his cock up in you.

“Fuck fuckfuck,” you cried out, feeling the tears well up again from the pleasure. “I can’t take it.”

“Yeah you can baby, just relax. You’re doing so good for me,” he cooed, as you started to meet his thrusts with your hips. The sound of your ass slapping against his thighs echoing off the walls. “So fucking good.”

One of his hands left your hip and started to rub quick circles on your swollen clit, your walls starting to flutter the second he did it.

“You getting close, baby?” he asked, his lustful eyes looking into the ones that you were struggling to keep open.

“Mhm,” you whimpered, your eyes screwing shut as you moved as fast as you could, chasing your orgasm. “Gonna-fuck..cum,” you got out, as he added a little more pressure to your clit. “Holy fuck!”

His hands went back to your hips as you started to go limp in his arms, too fucked out to move. He bounced you on him, chasing his own orgasm. All you could do was whimper, the tears trickling out of your eyes at the feeling. He pulled out of you, his cum shooting all over your tummy and his.

“Hey, hey baby,” he said softly, “Are you okay?”

He wiped the tears from your cheeks as before you relaxed onto him.

“That felt so good,” you said, your head resting against his chest.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No baby, it was perfect.”

You stayed there pressed against him as his fingers ran up and down your bare back. It felt so nice to have him back, and you never wanted to let him go again.

“What happened? Like after you were found?” you asked, your fingers running over the scars again.

He sighed, nervous to tell you all the gory details. “I had a faint pulse when they found me. They didn’t expect me to make it. I lost a lot of blood, and had some head trauma,” he said, as you sat up a little to look at him. “Then after I started to get better, they started talking about court and I got interrogated. But someone started their own little killing spree. I started to lie, saying that the real killer that was helping dad and Quinn must still be out there if people were still dying and I was sitting in the hospital.”

“And they believed you?” you asked, waiting for him to continue.

“Yeah, not at first, but the evidence didn’t add up to me aside from the robe I was wearing. I told them that dad roped me into it…and that he threated to kill me if I didn’t participate.”

“I still can’t believe they let you out,” you said, still amazed that he was right in front of you.

“I was in there for a while, and I’ve been on so many different medications to deal with the health issues I have now…I’ll tell you about those later. But if it wasn’t for you doing what you did, I would still be in there,” he said, his hands rubbing along your sides. “When I came back, I started staying with my aunt who thinks I was this manipulated, innocent person. She takes me to all my appointments to make sure I don’t have to go back to the psych ward.”

“Why didn’t you come see me?” you asked, feeling a little hurt that he’d been home for a while and didn’t bother to try to see you.

“I thought you didn’t want to see me, so I’ve been going to our spot every single day, just to think. I’d always hoped I’d run into you there,” he said, his voice cracking as he started to tear up. “I just love you so much.”

“I love you too, baby. Forever.” You smiled, “Today was the first time I’ve been there since you left. I found a note from you earlier and I just had to go there,” you said, wiping the tears off his cheeks.

“I’m so happy you did.”

He held you there for a while, loving the way your body felt against him.

“Babe, you wanna go shower? Your cum is still all over us,” you giggled, as his hands gripped your hips.

“Who said I was done with you yet?”

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #scream smut #ethan landry smut

[admirxation]

Broken Locks | Part 1

𓆩♡𓆪┆ links to other parts: part two | part three | part four | part five

𓆩♡𓆪┆ pairing: las plagas! yandere! re4! leon s. kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

𓆩♡𓆪┆ summary: the reader is leon’s neighbour, she’s always had a crush on him, but has disappeared for a few days to leave the reader to wonder where he has gone. leon’s arrival is quiet and unknown to many, but is connected to the anxiety the reader has felt with the recent attempted break-ins to her apartment.

𓆩♡𓆪┆word count: 2.3k

𓆩♡𓆪┆ disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! i do not condone everything i write, my writing doesn’t reflect all my morals. if any of the following warnings trigger or make you feel uncomfortable, scroll away; you are in charge of what content you’re consuming. this is 18+ only, minors are strongly advised not to interact.

𓆩♡𓆪┆ warnings: NSFW 18+ content, mdni. female anatomy and she/her pronouns used for reader. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. stalking, breaking in, masturbation (m receiving), watching someone sleep, pantie sniffing, and kidnapping. (these will be updated along the way)

Chapter one: strange feeling

Dear Y/N,

I am writing to inform you that your apartment is safe to re-enter after continuous checks. New locks have been installed and keys will be given upon arrival. I want to apologise for any inconvenience this has caused you and encourage you to write if anything peculiar, like this, ever happens again. The police are aware of this and will take further action when more information can be found and given.

Kind regards,

Derek.

You looked at the email, sitting in the hotel room that you had retreated to for the past week. You released a sigh of relief when you finally heard word from Derek — your landlord — knowing that your apartment was now safe gave you some peace of mind.

While packing up your things you couldn’t help but think about all the peculiar things you had found near and on your apartment door; it was only a week ago when you found the peephole on your door had been drilled through, as well as markings on the side which made it look like someone tried to break-in with a crowbar. You remembered how you felt that afternoon when you found them, you had come back from work, absolutely exhausted and needing to get into something comfortable until you saw the evidence that made your heart race and feel watched from every angle. Thankfully you had alerted Derek about it all, he took you seriously and gave you the address of somewhere you could safely retreat to, helping with the finances of it all.

For the past week, trepidation was engraved in your mentality from the image of the scratches on the door, your psyche now full of paranoia and fear. You were grateful that things were sorted but still alarmed at not knowing who was behind all of it. You called your best friend Jill — explaining everything you were going through — and she told you if you had stopped messaging for a long time, she would call the police, so you had some security in safety with Derek’s apartment checks.

Why did this happen to me? You couldn’t help but have this question constantly haunt your mind, you knew you shouldn’t blame yourself — it wasn’t your fault — but having the stalking be anonymous made you think about who it was and why they were harassing you, was it someone you knew? When Derek looked at the camera footage, it was broken, just showing glitched lines on the computer screen; this only made you feel even more uneasy since you couldn’t get instant justice. At first, you and Derek theorised that it was probably the kid at the end of the hall wanting to cause trouble — as he did previously to other tenants — but Derek had spoken to their mother and found out he was with his father so he couldn’t have done it.

Derek met you at the front desk, he could tell you were still shaken up about things, and he had a warm smile with the keys in his hand. You smiled back at him, trying to fit the keys to loop around your index finger as you struggled with your suitcase and handbag.

“You okay?” of course, he knew you weren’t okay, but he didn’t know what else to say.

“I’m still a bit… You know… But I should be okay,” you paused for a bit, “Did you find anything in the apartment?” you couldn’t help but ask these questions; you knew he would have checked properly but you also had that little voice in your head that kept taunting you to ask the question.

“Nothing out of the ordinary, don’t worry okay? New locks have been put in, also the police know about this… Nothing should happen,” this put you at ease.

You nodded, giving a farewell as you went into the elevator to your floor; you gripped your suitcase tightly as you saw the buttons light up and signify you were getting closer to your apartment. When you finally reached it, you hesitated until the last minute when the doors were about to close, looking at your door that had been painted over and a new peephole installed; taking a deep breath you entered. Nothing had changed and it was the place you loved, after looking around you finally locked the door behind you and placed your suitcase in your room. You folded your arms, rubbing them to keep warm in an apartment that hadn’t been heated for over a week; you looked around and saw nothing had changed and everything looked the same and was untouched, but you couldn’t help but feel watched with every movement. You tried to ignore the feeling of paranoia, thinking that you were shaken up about things, but you couldn’t keep relieving your fears and needed to get unpacked.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Later on — when it was getting darker outside — you had finished your unpacking as well as managing to relax with a bath and skin care, you then went into the kitchen and made some dinner, not being able to stop thinking about Leon.

You had lived opposite his apartment for over a year, and still remembered seeing him move in and looking at that handsome face; you were too scared to ask him on a date so you played it off by knocking on his door and offering “leftovers”. You always made a bigger portion of food to give you an excuse to talk to him and recently it became a routine to eat dinner with him. But this routine had come to an end; Leon had been gone for a while and you had no idea where he was, you asked Derek if he moved out which he denied and told you he was still a tenant.

You theorised about where he could have gone: did he go visit family or friends? Go on holiday? Or was he visiting a girlfriend? You thought for a moment, saddened at the thought that Leon would never go for you and that your crush was just pathetic with an inevitable end but for now all you wanted to do was finally eat some good food. You had gotten fed up with the constant instant ramen at the hotel and takeaways were eating at your bank account, you needed something homemade. Looking through your peephole you looked over at Leon’s door — knowing he wasn’t back — you would always hear him this time of night when walking back from work. You never knew what he did but knew the routine he had made around it.

It was lonely to eat alone, adding to your anxiety as you couldn’t have anybody to talk to; you knew Leon worked out and took care of himself, if he was around you would probably feel safer. But of course, you didn’t know where he had gone.

When you were finally getting sleepy, you pushed a chair in front of the door, placing a glass cup on the door handle so you could hear if someone tried to jiggle it; you took no chances and had stuck a box around the peephole, a cover wouldn’t be enough if it was drilled through, but Derek had told you if you stuck it on the door it would come off when you wanted and wouldn’t be moved if the unspeakable happened again. You kept your warm-toned light on as you slept and had the tv play in the back quietly, enough so you could still hear the glass.; total silence and darkness would make it more difficult to sleep. You tried your best to keep your eyes closed and sleep through any fears you were going through.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You slept, hugging your favourite plushie, restless with nightmares but not wanting to stay up all night; you had work in the morning, which couldn’t be ignored. When you finally started to calm down, lost in a trance of slumber…

Leon finally came from under the bed.

He watched you momentarily, your face visible with the warm tones from your lamp; he watched you and stared at how beautiful and vulnerable you were in your sleep, getting harder as the thought of grabbing and making you his was starting to engulf his mind, but he couldn’t do that… yet. He walked over to the bathroom; you had foolishly kept the bedroom door open, making it easy for him to get around the place. He looked at his surroundings — the place you called your own little sanctuary — sliding his fingers on the books you were currently reading, picking up the blanket you slept in on the sofa, starting to smell it and loving how your scent was lingering on the fabric. You were so near, but so far; Leon wanted to do whatever he could while you were asleep.

He had been waiting for your arrival.

Leon had come back from Spain two weeks ago, he had finished his mission successfully but had to sacrifice himself for it; the parasite was slowly taking over him, and the dark veins across his skin started to take over the being he was. Unlike the other victims, he managed to maintain his memories and some of his characteristics, only his humanity and morals were exchanged and surrendered to the virus. He remembered his life before going to Spain: how sweet you were every time you came over to his place, how beautiful you were every time you walked past him, and how delicious you looked in your most vulnerable state.

Derek managed to maintain checks on the apartment, only he was stupid enough to install locks that were easy to pick without any evidence. The original locks were too challenging to get into, making it obvious he was trying to enter, the markings on the door being a last resort of desperation which held him back with you being gone for a week. When the new ones were put in, Derek was lazy and cheap; Leon managed to keep the camera covered and made his return unknown to everyone and every time he pressed himself toward the door to look through the peephole, seeing the hallway was clear, it was easy to get in. Thanks to Derek’s instalment of faulty, broken locks.

Leon knew that Derek would contact you the day the locks were put in, so he stayed in your room, hiding under your bed whenever he heard the sound of the key turning in the door. He remembered when he saw Derek looking around — completing an idle search — and Leon couldn’t help but think how simple-minded he was and what a huge mistake he made in the choices of locks and search methods.

The parasite made Leon think the most profound and darkest of thoughts, he couldn’t help but stare at Derek and think about how easy it would be to just… Kill him; he was out in the open like prey. But he wasn’t what Leon wanted; you were the prize he wanted to steal.

He sat in the bathroom, looking at all the products you used that were left on the side of the sink, but he didn’t care about that; he looked at your laundry basket, not taking a second to waste and rummage through your dirty clothes, looking for something particular.

He found it.

A black lacy thong was sitting at the bottom. Leon loved it when you wore this; you never knew but sometimes when you wore this with a skirt, he would sometimes see it when he accidentally dropped something and you were too kind to pick it up for him, bending over and exposing yourself in front of him. He couldn’t do it too often, but when he could, he would always feel how hard it made him, palming his erection under the table — which you were oblivious to.

He sat on the cold tile, unbuckling the belt on his jeans, allowing his hard cock to be surrounded by the cold air and Leon’s calloused hand, having his free hand press the lacy fabric against his nose. He inhaled your scent, his cock throbbing as he caressed his hard member, precum leaking over his fingertips as he got lost in the scent and thought of you.

He needed you. He needed to make you his, and he didn’t want to wait any longer.

Tonight was the night he was going through with the plan.

The more he thought about his sinful plans, he quickened his movements, trying not to be too loud in his moans: he thought about how you would feel, how it would feel to have those warm walls surround his cock and yearn for his tip to kiss your cervix, how beautiful you would look with his hand around your neck, wanting to know what it would be like to see you cry at his length, and how he would feel when you screamed his name and beg for him to stop.

That was it.

That was the thought that made him release warm ropes, using your panties to clean himself off, throwing it back on top of the basket without a care in the world.

Every time you made a sound, whether it was a whimper or you shuffling in bed, Leon darted his eyes in your direction, making sure you didn’t wake up and ruin his plans — he waited too long for this.

He finally moved to the kitchen, picking up any rag he could find, inching his way closer to the doorframe and covering the rag with the liquid that was a part of his plan. He stood over you, waiting and waiting for you to wake up.

When the sun peaked through, your eyes slowly opened, your vision blurry until you saw a dark figure.

“What the —”

Your eyes widened as the mysterious figure pressed the rag, covering your mouth and nose, making you slowly drift back into another deep slumber; your attempts to fight back failed, and Leon watched as your body became lifeless and easy to take.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

a/n: i hope you enjoyed this part, please like and reblog (it rlly helps and i appreciate every single one). i just wanted to say that i didn’t do a tag list for this part since i wanted people to know what they were getting themselves into, i will also not be doing separate tag list posts; just comment on the post or message me if you want to be tagged (and maybe mention if you want to be tagged in every part of you want). have a lovely day/evening, ily 🫶

update on the authors note: i won’t be doing tag lists at all for this series it’s hard to keep up with, im sorry 🫶

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy smut #yandere!leon kennedy x reader #yandere!leon kennedy #plagas!leon kennedy x reader #plagas!leon kennedy #resident evil 4 #resident evil x reader #resident evil #fanfiction #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #admirxation #admirxation broken locks

[luimagines]

pspspspsps may i have a scenario where the boys receive a kiss from their crush thamks

- bestie anon

You got it, Bestie! o7 :D

Prepare for massive pining.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

Time

Time was having a hard time coming to grips with himself.

He would watch you from afar. Making sure that you were well taken care of and that all your needs were met. He didn't want to admit that he may have given you special treatment compare to the others but it was something that he didn't how to properly control.

The worse part of it was that he was beginning to suspect that you knew and were thus preparing to use it to your advantage.

"Time." You called to him as a warning before you latched onto his arm. 'I have a request."

Time looks to you, unaware of the soft look he gives you. "What is it?"

You don't miss it either, subconsciously matching it with your own. "I wanted to take a few of the boys down to the river to teach them some tricks of the trade that my father showed me. You're the head of group so I wanted to pass it by you. Is that ok?"

His heart flutters, betraying him over the severity of your questions. But it's light and there's little that needs to be done in the immediate. He sees no problem with it. Besides, how long would it take you to get there and come back? A few hours? The whole day? Either way, it's unlike you stay away past sun down.

"Sure. Thank you for taking it into consideration." He smiles. Although, it's not as if he's their father. They're free to do whatever they wanted for the most part. But it's nice that you thought about him.

You grin and pat his shoulder. "Any time. I suppose you'd like everyone to return before nightfall?"

Time clears his throat for a moment. Yes, that was exactly what he was thinking. How did you know?

With a small nod, he meets you head on. "If possible."

You nod back and lean in to kiss his cheek. "Then we'll be back before dinner."

You turn on your heel, as if nothing has happened and start gather a few of the younger members to take them on the short trip.

Time however can feel the very well crafted and fortified walls of his psyche crack slightly. Admittedly, he was caught off guard. But there was something in such a simple moment that only endeared you more to him.

It was so sweet. You did it so quickly. Were you even aware? Was that planned?

The moment replays in his head and he's forced to cover his face. He's a grown man- surely he would be past this level of fluster and tame the butterflies that tickle the inside of his torso.

His hand comes up and covers his mouth, slowly inching up to cover the rest of his face. That was cute. You're cute. And nice. And pretty. And delightful. And he's doomed.

Hopefully no else saw that.

Twilight

Twilight was almost certain that he was in love with you. Call him dramatic or exaggerating- but he was about 87% certain that he knew this feeling and that it was going to lead him down a very familiar path.

Part of him wanted to nip it in the bud and cut it off before it became anything larger than he knew he was capable of handling. The other part of him threw a fit at the thought of doing that.

He wants to be by your side and make you smile and laugh and make you pretty things and make sure that you're happy and- and- and-

"Hi Twilight." You hopped right next to him with your hand behind your back. "You seem deep in thought again. Care to share?"

Twilight clears his throat, ignoring the way he wants to blush at being caught. Even fi you have no idea what he was thinking about. "Nothing too bad. Just some things about our next steps. Sorry if I worried you."

You hummed and grabbed his arm, leaning on his without a care in the world. "Apology accepted. Here I thought that you had some dark secret or something that was eating you alive and would inadvertently change your life forever whether you kept it to yourself or told others."

Twilight chokes on his own spit. That's one way to say it.

"It can't be that bad." He tries to brush it off. "I was a little lost in thought, that's all."

"Hm..." You don't seem to believe him. "Alright. Keep your secrets, Mr. Man."

You lean over, kissing the corner of his mouth. "Just don't get too lost in thought anytime soon. Wild is about done with lunch. That's what I wanted to tell you. Anyway- that's all!"

Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute- Twilight tries to reach for you but you dance out of his range. What was that about?

You don't seem to want to acknowledge it but Twilight knows that it's going to be around in his head if he doesn't get any answers!

You laugh under your breath but he hears it. Something clicks in his mind to catch you. To get you to explain yourself. But also- something in him just wants to run.

So he starts to do so but you seem to catch on to what he's doing and also take off running. You take a turn away from the camp, trying to lose him in the surrounding thicket.

It excites him and he pushes himself faster to catch you.

Come back here!

Wild

Wild was watching you play a card game with Warrior and Legend, keeping them close to your chest as you looked at your opponent with a mischievous gleam in your eye.

Twilight snickers beside him. "They're going to notice."

"No they won't."

"Yes they will."

Wild rolls his eyes, turning to the other hero to face him head on. "No, they're not going to notice me. I am stealth and secrecy. I am invisible-"

"Wild, do you want to play with us?" You shout, still keeping your cards close even as you wave to him. "This game is really easy to learn if you're interested."

Wild chokes on his own spit as he looks back to you. This could be a chance to get close to you. Physically anyway. He can keep himself in check as he plays a simple game. You don't have to know how much he's been fantasizing about holding your hand or playing with your hair.

"Um..."

Twilight starts snickering a little louder, albeit trying to keep himself quiet. He's fails. But Wild wants to keep in mind that at least he's trying.

"Maybe!" Wild stands, decided to take the chance. "What do I have to do?"

"He can't join yet." Warrior points out. "Not until the match is over. It's too late to deal him in."

"Oh..." Wild tries to not sound too disappointed. "Next round then."

Legend is too focused on the game to comment but he plays down another card, only for you to cheer and place a different one. Legend curses as you take a small pile of acorns in the middle that they had piling up.

"One more and they win, Vet." Warrior hisses.

"I know! Don't remind me!"

You laugh and give a small wink to Wild. "Let me wipe the floor with these two first."

Wild can only smile. "I hope you win."

You grin, hopping up to give him a quick kiss to his cheek. He gasps but you seem none the wiser. "I'll take that as my good luck charm! I'm winning this!"

He coughs again, feeling himself grow a little hot under the collar. "As long as it's painless!"

"Naturally."

Warrior places down another card, which Legend seem to take advantage of- but you cheer again and win the game.

"Woo hoo! Let's go again. Thank you Wild!"

"Champion, help us." Warrior groans. "This is the third game in a row."

Wild sits down next to you, struggling to keep his composure. "SuRe. How do I play?"

Four

Four was going to lose his mind.

Here you were, helping him with fixing his tunic, and being incredibly close to his body, while also marginally whispering in his ear through the entire process.

It was maddening.

Four was trying his hardest to keep a straight face as you worked. What had happened was that he was working on sharpening your sword, as a request when you had tried to sit next to him and sliced the embroidery on his tunic.

He thought you were going to start crying with how apologetic you sounded. Between mentioned that he was doing you a favor to ruining something that had taken a lot of time, you had offered to fix it for him in return.

He didn't expect you to run off and come back with a small sewing kit and get to work right then and there.

"Again- I'm so sorry-"

"I know. You've said that ten times already." Four snorts, moving his arm out of the way so that you could reach it better. He doesn't expect you to lean closer, borderline putting your face against his chest as you work with the flayed threads.

Four can feel his cheeks start to burn and he has to look away. He's glad you're not in a position to see him at the moment. He's not sure if he would be able to handle himself in what would be considered the correct and polite way.

He coughs once and slowly moves his arm over your head. "It's not as bad you think it is. It's made in a way where it's easy to fix. It's not the first time this has happened."

"Really?" You seem to calm down. "What happened the first time?"

"I was wearing in the forge because I had a few orders backed up." four admits with a small laugh. Stay cool. Don't worry about your proximity. He's fine. He's totally fine. "I managed to get most of my work down, but at the cost of the treads. The designed has changed after some time."

"Oh thank god." You give a little bow with your head. "Because I had no idea what it looked like so I just planned on winging it and hoping that you didn't notice."

Four laughs and shakes his head. "I mean... I probably would. But knowing you did it would just make it more special."

"Really?" You snap your head up and you're nose to nose with him. "Ah- Sorry."

You pull back, before something comes over you. "Oh, what the hell!"

You kiss his the tip of his nose and grin. "In that case, I have to make this extra special then! Just you wait, Link! It's going to look... mediocre. But with feeling!"

Four has completely checked out at this point, feeling his blush finally push past his defenses.

"I'm glad you're ok with this. I still feel really bad."

"...I think I owe you now."

"What?"

"Nothing!"

Legend

He knew he was doomed before anyone else did.

It was a quiet thing at first. It usually is. It was just a little look here, a short conversation there and a giggle and a blush the next minute then a blinding smile the next.

Legend knew his patterns better than anyone would have been able to guess. He knew the route he was on. And he a afraid of going any further down the familiar road.

"Good morning, Legend!" You raised your hand in greeting.

Legend ruffled his hair, shoving his hat over his head. With a yawn, he waves back, ignoring the giddy way he feels knowing that you've called out to him specifically. "Good morning."

"Sit next to me! Breakfast is almost ready!"

He nods, making his way over to the log by the fire. He sits and tries to rub the sleep out of his eyes. "What's on the menu?"

"Eggs and bacon." Wild answers easily.

"I've never had bacon." You say absentmindedly. "So I hope it's good."

Wild looks up for a moment before he looks back down into the pan. "These have to be the best bacon I've ever made."

Legend snorts. "It's bacon. That's pretty hard to mess up."

"What do you usually have for breakfast, Legend?" You bump your shoulder with his. "Bacon and eggs."

Legend yawns again, shaking his head. "Just some bread and cheese usually. Nothing fancy."

You nod and rest your head on his shoulder. "I would always have a bowl of oatmeal...but I guess that's a bit harder to find while you're traveling than the rest of it, huh?"

"A bit." Legend rests his head on yours. This is ok, right? If you did it first, then it should be fine. It's safe, platonic, good. It's nice. It's doesn't have to be anything else.

You sigh before you lift yourself off of his, giving a quick kiss to his cheek. "I suppose it's just as good as everything else."

Legend's brain stops working. His eyes widen and all thoughts cease.

Wild had missed it thankfully, but the captain was already awake, along with the Rancher and the Old Man. They all send him knowing looks and smirking smiles.

Legend coughs. Where did that come from? Why did you do that? Why was that so cute?

It was the final nail on the coffin. Legend finds that he's fully embarrassed and unable to keep his head up, even while you're right next to him.

You laugh at his reaction, pulling away slightly. He stops you from getting too far despite his better judgement. You snort. "Too much?"

"The day just started." Warrior snorts. "Go easy on him."

You nod, still smiling. "Alright then. I will. Sorry Legend."

"It's fINe."

More giggles follow, and Legend realizes that he doesn't actually care that much. It's such a lovely sound.

Hyrule

Hyrule didn't know just how soft the world could be, not until he met you. It was hard to explain. One moment it was life or death and the next is was tender touches, feather light whispers and stolen glances.

His heart fluttered at the thought of being by your side. He gets nervous and shy but happy and playful. It was strange to feel a mix of everything soft but good and light.

His life was always full of intensity whether he wanted to acknowledge it or not. He was always on the move and everything was big and bright and bold. Suddenly, when he's next to you, it all comes to a stop and it's quiet. It's sweet and lovely and new and just as exciting as everything else.

"You ok?" You asked him out of the blue. You bumped your hips against his and it's enough for him to struggle to meet your eyes.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Hyrule laughs nervously, ruffling his hair for good measure. He hopes that he doesn't seem too strange or weird. He just wants to have a good time with you today as you all make your way to the town. "Sorry, I'm just thinking about some stuff."

"Must be pretty serious." You nod, putting your hands behind your back. "It has nothing to do with me, does it?"

You're being cheeky but it's closer to the truth than Hyrule wants to admit. He coughs, hitting himself in the chest a few times for good measure. "You'll never know."

"That's a yes." You laugh. "What's it about? I'm not annoying you, am I?"

"Of course not!" He snaps to you, horrified about the implications. "I love hanging out with you! I would never think that!"

You snort, beginning to pink up a little. It's a lovely shade on you, Hyrule realizes. And they way you giggle, hiding your smile behind your hand simply makes it a sweeter image in his mind. "Rulie, I was kidding."

His mind comes to a screeching halt.

"...Oh." Hyrule can feel his face pink up a little as well. Perhaps he came on a little too strong. "Right...I knew that."

You giggle even louder and pat him on the head before you toss your arms around his shoulders. "You're a sweetheart, Traveler. May you never change."

You then give him a big kiss on his cheek, poking it for good measure as you tease. "You're too good for this world. I might just have to take you home with me."

He gulps, biting his lip in an attempt to keep his cool. "CoOl."

He loses it.

With his voice crack, he gives up completely and hides his face behind his own hands. You seem to find it more amusing, laughing louder at his expense.

"Don't worry, Link. I love hanging out with you too."

"...AwesOme."

Bury him, this is embarrassing. He thought he was better than this... At least you seem to be having a good time.

Warrior

Warrior was about to have a crisis.

Why were you so alluring? How can someone do everything so perfectly? How is it that he makes himself look like an idiot when he so much as opens his mouth when he talks to you?

Warrior knew that this was a dangerous road he was on.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he tries to keep the idea that he's being watched, either by Lana or by Cia. He can't afford to step out of his place. To be close to you would just put a new target on your back.

Granted, he knows that she's changed... supposedly. He has no reason to trust that Cia would be able to control herself if she couldn't do it the first time around- Ganondorf or no Ganondorf.

And here he was, spending more time trying to impress you and get your attention that he knew it was worth.

"Found a new target, lover boy?" Twilight knocks the side of his head, sitting down by his side. "You know you can ask for a painting of them. It would last longer."

"Shut up." Warrior punches him. "Don't make it weird. They're just... very nice to look at."

"Uh-huh."

"Don't say a word-"

"Hey!" Twilight calls out to you, getting your attention. You wave back and jog over.

"What's up?" You put your hands on your hips. Warrior can't believe this. He so needs to get back at Twilight for this. This is just cruel.

"The Captain and I need a third person opinion." Twilight explains naturally. Warrior has no idea where he's going with this. "Would it be better or worse if we were to compliment you on your hair today?"

You snort and raise an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"You're pardoned." Twilight smirks. "Warrior wasn't so sure if he should say something but I'm under the idea that he should."

Warrior coughs. Is he being helped or dragged alive? He's lost full control of the situation. What is he supposed to do?"

"Aww!" You grin and lean down to kiss his cheek. "Thank you very much, Captain. Just say so next time."

He makes a choked sound before he nods. He's surely blushing. You're little snicker is all the confirmation he needs.

Twilight gives a lazy salute. "Thank you for clearing that up Darlin'."

"Any time."

Warrior turns to Twilight as you walk away. The Rancher has the most face splitting grin he's ever. "You're welcome."

"You're horrible."

"I believe a thank you is in order."

"....No..."

"Alright."

Sky

You were so pretty, Sky sighed into his hand. And so sweet and sassy. It excited him. It caught his attention in more ways than he thought possible. He wanted to know everything you had to say. He wanted you to be happy and he wanted you to be safe.

He wanted to be your friend and he wanted you to like him so bad.

Sky knew that he was a romantic at heart and he knew (at least in some degree) that he was slowly crushing on you.

Not that he had any chance with you. He wouldn't dare be that hopeful. You seemed to get along better with Legend and Four than with him and he was ok with that.

He'd just admire you from a distance.

At least that's what he told himself.

"Hey." He approached you one day. He noticed that you had done something different with your hair and well... no one else commented on it. That's what people like, right? They change something up and get a compliment on it and it's nice, right? He's not overstepping some unspoken rule, right? There's no way he can overthink a simple compliment, right?

You turn to him, all smiles and oblivious to his internal turmoil. "Hey Sky! Good morning!"

He can feel himself flushing. Why is he already embarrassed? He didn't even say anything yet! He can't jump ship now!

"Good morning." He replies back, losing some of his bravado. He shouldn't say it. Oh, but he already has your attention. You're going to ask him if he needs anything. You're going to ask why he called out to them. You're going to ask him what's on his mind and he's going to have nothing to say to any your questions.

"What's up?" You pull some of your hair back and Sky's heart flutters with the movement.

"You changed your hair today." He admits softly. He anticipated your question yet it still managed to catch him off guard. There was no way for him to even remotely change the pathways in his head. He might as well be honest. "I thought that it looked really nice. I wanted to tell you that."

You blink before beaming.

He's aback by your reaction, but at least you seem happy.

"Oh Sky! You're a sweet heart!" You cry, leaning over. You kiss his cheek faster than he can react and poke his nose. "Thank you! I'm really happy with how it came out. I have to go help Time with something real quick, but I'll talk to you later, ok?"

Sky nods, not trusting his tongue.

"Thank you, Sky!" You call out as you walk away.

Sky takes a shaky breath. He didn't anticipate that reaction. His mind betrays him as it replays the soft touch of your lips against his skin. His hands come to cover his face as he falls into a squat.

That was cute. He's doomed.

Wind (Reader is same age as Wind)

Wind was hiding behind a rock, watching as you fluttered around the camp. You'd spend a little time between each guy, watch what he was doing, ask a few questions about it, then move on the next one.

They all seemed to give you a little bit of time to tell you about themselves, their hobbies, they're hopes, their passions and maybe, if you smiled sweetly enough, they would tell a little story as well.

It was driving Wind crazy.

It was taking too long! Each guy was getting their turn but never once looked around for him! He was cool! He had stories! He could make stuff too!

He huffed and tossed himself on the side of the rock, sliding down his hiding spot with his arms crossed. Some guys seemed to be annoyed when you talked to them, but he wouldn't dare treat you that way. They should feel honored to have your attention.

You were so special. You were wonderful. Incredible. Breath taking.

Wind jumps and pulls his arm away from the rock. He had gotten cut. Great, another disappointment. Wind pokes it, watching as little beads of crimson blink up at him as he shifts. "Ow."

"Are you finally going to come out, scardy cat?" You teased popping your head around the rock.

Wind jumped again, hiding his arm against his side. He says your name, because it's the only thing he can think to do. "H-hi!"

"I've been watching you." You continue to tease. "Just like you've been watching me! What are you doing over here anyway?"

"Um. I...Was..." Wind can't think of a lie fast enough. Given the way you raise an eyebrow, Wind knows that he also has his lying face on. He sighs, suddenly feeling stupid. "Hiding."

"Hiding?" You don't sound impressed. It's another hit to his pride. "Hiding from what? Get up, dork."

You giggle and grab his arm. Wind hiss and you drop him like a hot potato. "Wind?"

He looks back to his cut. There's more blood than before, but it's not the worst cut he's gotten. It just stings.

"Oh...oh my god, when did that happen?" You drop to your knees, taking a rag from your belt, to wipe the blood. "Wind! When did you get hurt?"

"Not long ago." He pouts, letting you do whatever. It's too late for him. There's no coming back from this. "It just happened."

You frown, putting pressure above the cut. Wind hisses again but doesn't move away. "No wonder. If Warrior saw this, you wouldn't get your sword back for a week."

"He acts like my dad." Wind gripes. "Who let him do that?"

"You do."

"What!?"

You laugh again, pulling the rag away. It appears that the bleeding has stopped. "Don't be stupid. Come hang out with the rest of us. It's not the end of the world."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't wanna."

"Pleeaasee?" You pout back, gesturing to his arm. "I'd even kiss it better."

"No, you wouldn't-"

You reach and take his wrist, pulling his arm away so that you can kiss the spot where he's hurt. Suddenly, it doesn't sting so much anymore.

He flushes a deep red color while you look... not that much better actually. "There. Come on. It's all better now."

You get to your feet and pull him up. Wind follows you without a second thought. Both of your faces are flushed with embaressment.

"What happened to you two?" Time raises an eyebrow.

"I fell." You blurt. "On top of Wind. Not my great moment."

Time hums and turns to Wind. "Is this true sailor?"

Wind curses in his head. Time has some knowing look on his face. He doesn't like it. Not trusting to speak, and only feeling more shame creep up his neck, Wind covers his face and nods.

Let them guess. He won't talk about it.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #winds got away from me #took a minute to bring it back #most of these got away from me looking back on it #whoops ^.^*

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

Love and Liabilities (Agatha Harkness x FemReader): Chapter One

Summary: While you attend a pretrial conference for your current case, you’re stunned to learn your opposing council is your former ex…and law school professor, Agatha Harkness

Word Count: 4.7k

Tags: 18+ Minors Do Not Engage!! Smut, Light Choking, Light Degradation Kink, Mommy Kink, Hate Sex

A/N: Hi :) This idea has been bouncing around my brain since the promo pics came out. Lawyer Agatha, the gift we all need for the new year. This is my first real attempt at writing smut, but I hope y’all enjoy. Updates will be around every 2 weeks. If you’d like to be added to a tag list, please let me know. Feel free to let me know what you think! 💜 Also a special shout-out to my sweet beta/girlfriend, Sarah, thank you for always listening to my crazy ideas.

Smoothing out a wrinkle from your pantsuit, you looked over your case materials from outside the courtroom. It had been almost a decade since you graduated law school, and you’d spent the time since working in corporate law as a junior attorney, before leaving the firm and working your way up as a top prosecutor. To say you were married to your job would be an understatement. It wasn’t enough to be good, you simply had to be the best. You’d always pride yourself on your ability to dig deep in a case and pull out missing details, or find a crack in a seemingly perfect alibi. You were ruthless, but you knew you had to be. The defense attorneys you found yourself battling in court were absolute sharks, and if they sensed an ounce of hesitation on your end it would be a total bloodbath.

Dealing with criminal defense cases was as interesting as it sounded, although it wasn’t what you envisioned you’d be doing after law school. You had different dreams back then, more altruistic visions of helping those who needed it. Closing your eyes, you saw a brief flash of the strikingly blue eyes and dark hair that caused you to change your choice of career, before you quickly shook those thoughts aside. It had been almost ten years since you’d allowed yourself to think about her- about any of it, and it wouldn’t benefit you to take a stroll down memory lane before the biggest case of your career.

A law clerk eventually came by to inform you the judge was ready for you. This was it. Gathering your materials, you walked through the details again in your mind. Pre-trial conferences were relatively helpful when trying to reach a plea bargain, review evidence, as well as decide what to present to the jury. There was no doubt in your mind that this case would go to trial. After all, a woman who kidnaps two children and takes them to a small town in New Jersey didn’t leave much to plead innocent from. What was the name of it, Westchester? Westmont? No, no, you mentally crossed those out, until the name finally came to mind…Westview. Westview, New Jersey.

The room was relatively empty, and you recognized the judge, Carol Danvers. She had a reputation for being rather uptight, but was typically fair in her rulings. She’d moved up through various circuit courts throughout her career, and you’d heard rumblings she was being eyed for a potential Supreme Court nomination. Setting your briefcase on the empty chair next to you, you thought of any possible hiccups from the defense. Supposedly a brief psych evaluation had been done after the incident to rule anything out, so they wouldn’t try and plead insanity, right? You couldn’t see Carol ruling in favor of that. There was the small problem of genetics; the woman was the boys’ birth mother. But, you’d looked over the adoption contracts, as had your colleagues, and they were airtight. It had been a closed adoption, and from what you could tell there had been no contact for over a decade. Plus, with solid testimonies from both families and multiple eyewitnesses you weren’t worried of whatever argument the defense would make in her favor.

Speaking of the defense, you quickly realized the defense attorney hadn’t arrived yet, which was a bit unusual. Racking your brain, you tried to remember the name of the attorney Yelena said was leading the case, but no one came to mind. Pepper Potts perhaps? Carol also appeared to notice the lack of the second attorney, as she whispered with one of the law clerks. You could barely make out what they were saying, but she sounded annoyed. But, no matter, you knew this had absolutely no impact on you.

Carol finally sighed in defeat at whatever the law clerk told her, something about hitting a fire hydrant? “Well, as we’re waiting on the defense to resolve their…tardiness, will the prosecution step forward?”

Standing up, you grabbed a copy of your materials, evidence, testimonies, anything the judge would need, before taking a step towards the judge. “Your honor, the state of New York is ready to move forward with our case. You’ll find sufficient evidence to dismiss any plea deal, as well as ensure we can schedule a trial date.”

Handing the papers to the judge, you watched as she flipped through them, an unreadable expression on her face. Minutes passed before she looked up at you. “The prosecution is dismissing the plea deal being proposed by the defense?”

Nodding, you recalled the deal that had been sent over to your office. It was preposterous, and was heavily dependent on the mental state of the defendant, or rather the lack of mental state of the defendant. “Yes, your honor. The state has inculpatory evidence to convict the defendant, as well as a number of witnesses willing to testify.”

A voice you’d only heard in your dreams for the past decade spoke up, and you nearly froze in place. “Inculpatory evidence? That’s a rather bold claim, I’d call it circumstantial at best.”

It couldn’t be. Paralyzed, you forced yourself to ignore it, to ignore her and keep your eyes locked forward. It couldn’t possibly be her, you would have remembered hearing her name as the defense attorney. Clearing your throat, you continued, trying to keep yourself calm. “With all due respect, your honor, the typical procedure for a case involving the abduction of a minor is what we’re basing this precedent on-”

An obnoxiously loud cackle cut you off, and nearly made you whip your head around in annoyance. The slow clacking of heels echoed throughout the room, followed by the faint scent of Burberry that invaded your senses. Brief flashes of lecture halls and late night office hour visits intertwined with the smell of cigars and expensive whiskey. Lengthy, heated arguments over the moral justification of various Supreme Court rulings whilst being undressed and pressed against the door. Diamond jewelry and lavish bouquets being delivered to your modest law school apartment as you sheepishly explained to your roommates you were seeing an older woman. Secret rendezvous in dimly lit piano bars in Manhattan which would end in a king size bed in a penthouse you could never dream of affording.

It all led back to the same thought, the same woman you’d done your best to let go of. The very same woman you currently found yourself standing face to face with. Agatha Harkness. Clever blue eyes met yours, and a slow smirk painted her perfect red lips. She hadn’t changed much over the past decade. Her dark hair, now peppered with some gray, was pinned back with a few loose strands framing her face, and you briefly thought of how well it suited her. The fitted black pantsuit which accentuated her features, and black heels that made her look deceptively tall as she towered over you.

For a moment it was as if no time had passed at all, and you were back in her lecture hall. But as quickly as that oddly nostalgic feeling overcame you like a tidal wave, it swept away, leaving you with the reality of the situation. Clearing your throat, you looked past Agatha, keeping your focus on Judge Danvers. “As I was saying. While looking at prior cases involving the abduction of a minor we were able to set a precedent that-”

Agatha let out another cackle, and it took everything in you to not roll your eyes. However it appeared Carol was at the end of her rope with patience, as she banged her gavel twice. “Does the defense have something they wish to share with the rest of us?”

“Your honor,” Agatha drawled out, her voice sweet like honey, “The prosecution is making bold assumptions on precedents that do not directly follow the evidence of this particular case. To rule anything otherwise would be direct defamation to my client.”

“Defamation?” You all but hissed, momentarily forgetting you were in the middle of a courtroom. The answering smirk Agatha gave you only fuelled your fire. “Your honor, the defense is all but negating the direct evidence of the defendant’s guilt. We would like to proceed to trial while throwing out the plea deal.”

Agatha’s shark tooth grin widened, and you had a sneaking suspicion she was baiting you to get a reaction. Typical, as she always prided herself on being ten steps ahead of her opponent. Taking a deep breath, you regained your calm composure. It would do you no good to allow your emotions to take over. That would merely ensure Agatha to have one more victory over you, one more thing she would take away from you. But things were different this time, you weren’t some feeble, naive law student fawning over her professor. The playing field was finally leveled, and it was about time she realized that.

Unfortunately, you forgot Agatha never played fair. You curiously watched her grab two folders from her briefcase, all but tossing one at you whilst handing Carol the other. “While we’re discussing the plea deal your honor, I’ve included additional information regarding my client’s psychiatric evaluation.”

Practically tearing the folder open, your eyes scanned the lengthy documents before landing on something that nearly made you fall over. Before you could get a word in, Agatha continued on. “Due to our country’s ever failing healthcare and medical practices, my client has been unable to receive a proper psychiatric evaluation. Your honor, I am requesting a continuance to this trial until my client can get the help she needs.”

Carol’s focus remained on the papers, an inscrutable expression coloring her features. “I’m granting a one month continuance for the defendant, Wanda Maximoff, to be given a psychiatric evaluation. As long as Miss Maximoff follows the terms of her probation and doesn’t leave the state of New York, we’ll resume this conference one month from today. Thank you to the prosecution and defense, you’re dismissed.”

Not wanting to see the smug smirk on Agatha’s face, you packed up your materials, including the folder Agatha gave you, and did your best to hurry out of the courtroom. It was foolish to think you’d beat Agatha at the game she taught you to play. That’s what it always was to Agatha, a game. It was like everyone around her was playing checkers while she was constructing the most elaborate game of chess known to man. All while she moved you around as whatever piece she desired; because that’s how she viewed you, as an object she could twist and mold to her liking until you outlived your usefulness.

Ignoring the familiar sound of her heels approaching, you drafted a quick email to one of your colleagues with the news of the trial being halted before going to order your Uber. You didn’t have to look up to know Agatha was standing in front of you, because that was just part of her intricate plan. She surely knew you were furious, because of course she did. Hadn’t she once told you she knew everything? At the time you thought it was a cheeky remark to make you laugh, but looking back you came to terms with the fact that the only person Agatha Harkness could ever care for was herself.

You were growing weary of the rising tension, so you finally broke the silence, keeping your eyes locked on your phone. “Can I help you with something?”

“I’m not sure,” Agatha replied, and although you weren’t looking at her you could practically feel her gaze burning into you. “I never took you for a sore loser, dear.”

There it was, she was trying to get her claws back in you. Keeping your tone even, you checked on the status of your Uber. “I’m not sure I know what you’re referring to. I’m just doing my job.”

Before you could comprehend what was happening, your phone was ripped from your hands. “Hey!” You exclaimed, angrily whipping your head up and your eyes narrowed, meeting the deep blue eyes you used to get lost in. “Give me back my phone.”

“Checking for your ride?” Agatha mocked, arching an eyebrow up at you. “Is that more interesting than talking to me?”

“Watching paint dry would be more interesting than speaking with you,” You retorted, your discomfort quickly growing.

“Now darling, is that any way to speak to me?” Agatha teased, her voice gradually dropping in volume. “It’s been so long.”

Glaring at her, you tried to pry your phone from her hands, but she put it in her back pocket. “And whose fault is that again?” Your voice was laced with venom, you subconsciously wanted to make her feel as badly as you had. “Should we take a stroll down memory lane and recall what caused this?”

Agatha’s gaze hardened at that jab, and you momentarily wondered if you pushed too hard. “I’m surprised you’re leading this case. I thought you wanted to,” she paused and used air quotes, “‘help the voiceless’, not strangle them.”

“How dare you,” You seethed, not caring that your voice was growing in volume. “I’m just doing my job, Agatha. Besides, isn’t strangling the helpless what you do best?”

Agatha tilted her head back, and let out another cackle. “Doing your job? You’re trying to imprison an innocent mother.”

“Your innocent mother kidnapped two minors and took them over state lines,” You fired back, vaguely aware that Agatha was taking small, slow steps towards you.

“She’s still their mother,” Agatha pointed out and you felt your face grow red from rage.

“Regardless of DNA, it was a closed adoption. She waived her parental rights,” You argued, unaware of anything but the infuriating woman standing in front of you. “Surely you’ve been practicing long enough to know how to read a contract.”

“And I thought I taught you to read between the lines of said contracts,” Agatha countered, and you knew she was testing your argument, it’s what she always did. “Things aren’t always black and white, dear.”

No they weren’t, you silently agreed. By this point your back was to the wall of the deserted corridor, Agatha still towering over you. Your faces were practically touching, and you could practically taste her lips. Both of you were panting from the exertion of bickering, and it wouldn’t take much to close the distance. She was so close, closer than she had been to you in so long. Having her back in your orbit, taking over all of your senses, made you forget the reasons you were so angry with her. Instead, it made you remember how many other times you had found yourself in this exact same position.

You could feel your ironclad restraint begin to slip away, and Agatha appeared to notice it as well. She let out a low chuckle as she turned her face to the side, her breath now hot against your ear, and allowing her to whisper, “Looks like it still doesn’t take much to get you riled up, does it?”

Shuddering, you struggled to get your breathing even, thinking of the many reasons why this was a horrible idea. Your history aside, you were on opposing sides of what would most likely be a very public case. It wasn’t just unprofessional to be doing this, it could potentially jeopardize your whole career. But it was hard to think about any of that when you locked eyes with the woman you had spent so much time trying to forget. Her right hand left your waist to push back the loose strands of your hair, tucking them behind your ear.

Each movement was slow, and delicate, and as her fingers slowly trailed down your neck, she gently squeezed, before gradually applying more pressure, and you had to physically restrain yourself from moaning. You could feel the heat pooling between your legs and had to close your eyes from the overwhelming sensation. Agatha’s lips moved to your neck, pressing hot, open kisses on your flesh while her fingers began to move lower, cupping your left breast before slowly pinching your nipple. This time you couldn’t stop the quiet moan that left your lips, and Agatha quickly used her free hand to silence you, covering your mouth.

“You always had a problem being quiet,” Agatha murmured, lips still on your skin. “Let’s find somewhere more…secluded to continue this, hm?”

Feeling yourself nod, you opened your eyes and let out a pathetic whine as she let go of you. It didn’t take long to find an empty storage closet, and Agatha practically shoved you inside before slamming the door behind her.

Pressing you against the bare wall, her eyes scanned yours before asking, “Are you sure?”

Being with Agatha like this was the greatest euphoric high, and it always left you wanting more and more. It didn’t have to mean anything, and you certainly didn’t want it to. It was just two people working out their frustrations, right? You nodded again, grabbing her right hand and placing it back around your throat. “Are you going to choke me again or are you too much of a coward?”

She nearly growled at that, and squeezed, a little rougher this time. You pressed your face into her shoulder, trying to silence the noises you always made when she touched you. She had barely started but it was so good, and you didn’t hesitate when she used her free hand to try and remove your blazer. Taking a step back to take off your blouse and bra, you nearly tripped over some boxes, and her hands steadied you.

“Careful,” She lightly teased, eyes still dark from arousal. “I’m not nearly finished with you.”

Her hands skillfully unhooked your bra, carelessly tossing it to the side, before lowering her mouth to your breast, and lewdly sucked. As if she anticipated the noises you’d inevitably make, she roughly pressed two fingers in your open mouth for you to suck. Moaning around them, you eagerly sucked and sucked, thinking of where you wanted her fingers to go next. Agatha’s tongue swirled around your nipple, teasing it enough to make it go erect before using her teeth to pull. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head, your last functioning brain cells wondering how she could still have this strong of an effect on you.

She let out a low hum, clearly enjoying this as much as you were before moving to your other breast, only this time she bit down, and the rush of pain and pleasure flooded you. Unable to cry out as she fucked her fingers further down your throat before adding a third, causing you to gag around them. Releasing your breast, Agatha panted out, “Look at how pathetic you are, sucking on my fingers like a good little slut. What a good girl.”

Whimpering around her fingers, you clenched at the filth spewing from her lips. You hated this, how easily she could flip the switch and have you dripping and wanting her to fuck you through the floorboards. Agatha cooed, using her free hand to gently stroke your face, and roughly pulled her fingers out of your mouth. She was face level again, and you watched the gears turn in her head as she weighed out what to do with you. That same free hand cupped your jaw, and she was so close, your brain buzzing from the endorphins. It was so good, you hated how good it was.

Her normally perfectly red lips were stained and parted slightly as she looked at you with an indecipherable stare, and you were still breathless from her earlier ministrations. Before you could fully comprehend what you were doing, you grabbed her hair and smashed your lips together. You swore you heard her groan, but it was gone as quickly as it came, and you had no time to contemplate it as you felt her tongue teasing the entrance of your mouth. It has been so long, so very long, but you fell back into the familiar dance you could never forget.

Everything Agatha did she dominated, for she had such a strong presence that was impossible to ignore. Just kissing her was enough to get you off, as her tongue expertly swirled around yours, sending you further and further from the edge of reality. You were so far gone you barely noticed her hands moving lower, and lower, until they were pawing at your ass. Groping and grabbing, she was insatiable as she conquered your mouth. You broke apart for merely a second and without speaking, you helped get rid of your pants, slightly stunned you were still this in sync after all this time.

But again, you had no time to ponder that thought as Agatha quickly slammed you against the wall, and you couldn’t help but moan at the pain. The same fingers you eagerly sucked on were now teasing your entrance, rubbing gentle, slow circles. Agatha’s breath was hot in your ear, and you whined, trying to thrust your hips up for more friction. You needed more, you needed her more than ever before. Going without for so long was fine, you’d nearly forgotten what it felt like, what she felt like; but the second you remembered you couldn’t bear a second without it.

“Someone’s awfully worked up,” Agatha taunted, her voice softly whispering in your ear. “Did you want something?”

“Agatha…” You breathed out, your voice nearly cracking. “Please…”

Her fingers teased your clit, and the sensation made you cry out, causing Agatha to silence you with yet another kiss. “Behave,” she murmured against your lips, “Do you want me inside you? Do you want me to fill that sweet little cunt?”

Mewling, you again tried to tilt your hips up, desperate to feel her inside you, but her other hand kept you in place. “Agatha, please, I…I need it, please fuck me.”

Agatha arched an eyebrow, “I know your brain just melts when that pussy gets wet, but we both know that’s not what you want to call me, is it?” Blushing, you tried to avert your eyes but it was impossible. She nipped at your lips before continuing. “Be a good girl and beg for it.”

“Mommy,” The words slipped past your lips and you felt another rush of heat between your legs while Agatha moaned.

“Good girl,” Agatha praised you, and before you could prepare yourself she roughly entered you with two fingers, filling you completely.

Her fingers were so long and so good, hitting the spots you had trouble reaching. You couldn’t help but clench around them, and she groaned in your ear. Wasting no time, she set a fast and hard rhythm, skillfully fucking you better than anyone else since her had been able to.

“I almost forgot how good your cunt feels around my fingers,” Agatha hissed, nibbling on your ear, “Suck me in, slut.”

Your hips met her fingers, and you desperately chased your orgasm. “Harder, please mommy fuck me harder.”

Putting all of her weight on you, Agatha swiftly added a third finger and you nearly squealed at how full you felt. Her fingers were so deep, and you were so close, so very close to the edge.

“Such a good whore for mommy,” Agatha cooed, and her voice was strained, you could tell she was close too. “Do you want to come on my fingers?”

“Mommy please,” You cried out, unable to focus on anything but wanting to feel her fingers make you come harder than you could ever remember.

Agatha’s hips rested against your knee, and she began riding your leg, chasing her own high. “Come for mommy, baby. Soak my fingers.”

Twisting her fingers and hitting your G-spot again, and again causing you to quickly unravel. Feeling your orgasm coming, you clenched around her fingers, needing her to stay inside you. Your knees buckled and you swore you saw stars, unable to speak as you silently cried out. Agatha came right as you did, grunting in your ear and roughly thrusting against your leg as she came undone.

“Fuck,” She panted, keeping her fingers inside you as you continued to twitched around them. “Good girl, such a good girl for mommy.”

Breathing heavily, you gradually felt yourself come back to Earth. You were drenched with sweat, and you were sure you looked positively debauched. Agatha was staring at you with yet another inscrutable expression on her face, and you felt yourself relaxing around her fingers as she slowly pulled out. You grabbed her hand, and lewdly cleaned her fingers off, watching her eyes darken once more as you made a point to swirl your tongue around them until they were clean.

As your brain fog cleared, you were all too aware of the uncomfortable silence growing around you. With every high that came with being with Agatha, it was almost always followed by an indescribable low. There were so many things you wanted to ask her, so many things you needed to know. Brief flashes of arguments and slamming doors. Dozens of unanswered calls, and late nights spent wondering what you had done wrong to deserve her random outbursts of anger. But with every argument, every heated fight, it would always end the same way; with Agatha pressing you against some surface and having her way with you.

There had been so much more going on at that point than you were aware of, and as the pieces slowly came together, she was too far gone for you to be able to help. You’d begged and pleaded with her, but it never mattered. What was it your therapist had said to you? You couldn’t help someone who didn’t want to help themselves. Letting go of her nearly killed you, and now you made the mistake of opening that door again, knowing how much more complicated it would be. You weren’t just her law student anymore, you were on opposing sides of a trial.

It appeared Agatha was having the same train of thought as you, for she wordlessly helped you find your clothes. In spite of her just being inside you, you made a point of turning around as you got dressed, as the air in the room seemed to drop and any of the warmth that had been there prior had disappeared. There was so much you wanted to say, yet simultaneously wanted to get as far away from her as you could.

Agatha finally broke the silence as she fixed her hair, and she was back to her usual condescending self. “You know you’re wrong pursuing this case, right? It’s not too late to back out.”

Rolling your eyes, you finally grabbed your phone from her back pocket and saw your Uber driver understandably canceled your ride. That would certainly tank your rating. You quickly ordered another before replying with, “You know this meant absolutely nothing to me, right?”

Pushing past her to exit the room, she let out another cackle, the sound like grating nails on a chalkboard in your ears. You knew she wouldn’t follow you, and you were thankful for that. This was an indiscretion, a momentary lapse of judgment. You’ve been on edge with all the extra hours you’ve been working; you weren’t thinking clearly. The courthouse was still relatively empty, and you left the building, trying to get the thought of Agatha out of your mind. Why did she have to be so infuriating?

Your Uber eventually rolled up and as you got in you went to check your work email. It never failed to amaze you how quickly your inbox would fill up when you didn’t check it for more than five minutes. Scrolling through, you vaguely listened to the music your driver had in in the background, until a familiar song started playing. Frank Sinatra, a favorite artist of a certain attorney. The Way You Look Tonight had always been one of her favorites, and you could remember the last time you listened to it together.

Your mind absentmindedly drifted, the memories you’d tried to lock away slowly creeping back up to the surface. It seemed no matter how hard you tried to forget, she didn’t want you to. Settling into your seat, listening to Frank Sinatra, you thought back to the first time you met Agatha, or rather, how you met Professor Harkness.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #agatha harkness fanfiction #agatha harkness smut

[steddio]

Steve is used to pushing through pain. Sure, the adrenaline of a life or death moment is one thing but when that fades and all that’s left is stinging cuts and tender swelling and a full-body bone-deep ache there’s no excuse for letting weakness show. Or letting others see the lingering migraines, achey joints, and night terrors that continue to wound his body and psyche even once everything is “back to normal.” Ingrained in him since an unforgiving childhood, Steve’s grit-your-teeth-and-bear-it philosophy has served him perfectly well and he sees nothing wrong with it, thank you very much.

Until he meets Eddie. Eddie who curses, shouts, screams and cries his pain, broadcasting it to those around him with his typical dramatic flair. Eddie whose eyes betray every feeling and emotion, amplified tenfold by the flailing of too-long limbs and gesturing of ring-bedecked fingers. Eddie who sees right through Steve’s facade to the core of his pain.

It starts with Eddie giving Steve an obvious once-over each time he sees him, checking for visible injury, the lasting echo of shared trauma. Steve knows how to navigate this, having faked his way through countless minor sports injuries in order to stay off the bench and in the game. What Steve doesn’t know how to navigate is what comes after. Unlike Steve’s coaches, who accepted his apparent well-being without question, Eddie has an unnerving tendency to locate the exact source of Steve’s discomfort.

“Harrington, are you limping? Cut the shit and sit down over there, I told you not to overwork your bad knee.”

“Ok big boy, pull over. I’m driving and that’s final. Don’t argue with me, you can’t even see straight. Driving with a migraine is definitely worse than my driving, dude.”

“You look like shit, go home, I’ll help Robin close. Yes, yes, I got it, how hard can it be?”

Eventually, and even worse, Eddie moves beyond snarky well-meaning comments to saying nothing but doing everything. Like shooing the younger kids out of Steve’s house when he’s starting to squint against the bright lights and loud conversation. Or grabbing heavy bags from Steve’s hands before he’s even halfway from the car to the door. Or wordlessly turning up the stereo when Steve needs something, anything to drown out the ringing and echoing screaming in his ears.

At first, being seen hurts more than the actual pain. Stripped raw by the casual tenderness, the sheer humanity zinging at newly exposed nerves. Steve doesn’t know how to handle this breakdown of his primary defense mechanism. He tries to keep shrugging Eddie’s concern away, but Eddie is relentless. Eddie “willing to repeat senior year three times rather than drop out” Munson is entirely undeterred by Steve’s patented nonchalance. Despite it all, he keeps caring. And Steve has no choice but to accept the tidal wave that is Eddie’s concern.

It takes a while, for Steve to recalibrate his self-perception. So used to shoving it aside, he has to learn again how to really feel pain. How to acknowledge it, respond to it. How to attend to his own discomfort the way he attends to Robin’s, or Dustin’s, or Max’s.

The first time he cancels plans with the gang because of a migraine he’s overcome by guilt. He’s five seconds away from calling back to say just kidding he is totally fine and would love to drive everyone to the movies when he hears a knock at the door. Before he can even fully open the door, Eddie barges in.

“Harrington! Where are your towels, I brought you drugs, the legal ones don’t worry, go lay down, what are you doing standing there gawking, here swallow this and put this over your head.”

Before he can fully process what’s happening, Steve is manhandled onto his own couch, a cool damp towel over his eyes and forehead, and Eddie is back out the front door shouting that he’ll check in on Steve after the movie ends.

The second time he cancels plans, his bad knee too achey to make the trek out to Dustin’s radio to celebrate his and Suzie’s anniversary, Steve is still guilty, but almost unsurprised when Eddie turns up at his door, rented movie in hand, shouting at Steve to ice and elevate his damn knee already.

After a while, the guilt goes away, replaced by a bone deep security that’s brand new to Steve, a quiet reassurance that it’s okay to put himself first, it doesn’t make him selfish or bad or pathetic or weak or any of the things his dad used to shout at him before he learned to mask himself. Replaced by an overwhelming fondness for Eddie and his exuberant care, the way he wears his feelings like his tattoos, on his bare skin.

After a while, Steve realizes that not all of Eddie’s once overs are checking for pain, sometimes they’re simply for checking him out. And this, this he knows how to handle.

The tenth time Steve cancels plans, he’s waiting at the door for Eddie to arrive. Eddie is all blurred motion and Bambi-eyed concern, looking for Steve’s source of pain. Steve points to his cheek.

“One too many direct hits and my whole face gets achey when the weather changes.”

Eddie turns, no doubt intending to rummage through Steve’s kitchen until he can find ibuprofen, or ice, or anything. Before he can get far, Steve catches his arm and turns Eddie to face him.

“Maybe you can kiss it better?”

#steddie #stranger things #steddie drabble #steve harrington #eddie munson #this is... the first ficlet / drabble i've ever posted #A writes

[hoshologies]

ALL GREEK LOVE, LEE H.

synopsis — you spent the entire summer telling your family that you weren't going to join a sorority. now not only are you an initiated member of delta eta sigma, but you've been elected to the social chair position for you chapter. that's all well and good until heeseung lee, the newly elected social chairman for lambda rho and well-known in the greek community, reaches out to you to start planning runouts between your respective chapters. and now you're spending a lot more time with the cutest boy you've ever met.

genres &&. warnings — romance, fluff, meet-cute, smut, strangers to friends to lovers!au, college!au, greek life!au &&. underage drinking, afab!reader, tipsy sex, dry humping, oral (f!receiving), fingering, overstimulation.

word count — 15.7k.

from the author — not to be totally sorority girl, but the way i see greek life depicted in college au fics is CRAZY. now that i'm back hardcore into my kpop stan era, i rewatched the drunk-dazed mv and was like hmm... so the ultimate plan here was to write heeseung filth but also portray greek life a little more accurately because even if i'm not a huge fan, one thing about me is i'm gonna make sure y'all KNOW that greek life isn't just parties every weekend.

jokes aside, i really hope you enjoy this fic and my first real return to writing. likes, reblogs, and feedback are always welcome. and honestly, if you have any questions about greek life that you just have to know the answer to, i'm an open book.

if you enjoyed it, feel free to buy me a ko-fi!

the entire summer before starting your freshman year of college, you had told your family that you weren’t going to join a sorority. in your mind, there was a specific mold that one needed to fit into to join a sorority and quite frankly, you checked none of the boxes of those stereotypes. 

yet here you sit, months later, in your sorority’s chapter meeting. and you’ve just been elected to the social chair position of the chi nu chapter of delta eta sigma. 

truthfully, you’re not quite sure how you ended up here. you hadn’t formally rushed the week before school, but a couple of drunk girls at a frat party at the beginning of the semester had told you that you should rush their sorority. maybe you’d been a little desperate to branch out or maybe you were just a little curious of what rushing looked like, but a few days later at the student organization fair, you’d found the booth for the sorority the girls had told you they belonged to, delta eta sigma, and signed up for their informal rush.

by the end of october, you had been extended a bid, assigned a big, and promptly initiated into the chapter in what you jokingly referred to as a cult ritual (how could you describe it any other way? all white outfit? candles? promises to not divulge secrets about rituals that happen behind closed doors?).

and now, just three weeks after officially joining the chapter, you’ve ended up on the programming board somehow. you’d gotten a call from the selection board while sitting in the drive-thru of mcdonalds, waiting impatiently for your order of fries and a sprite as a treat for doing well on your gen psych quiz. the girl who’d called you said you’d made “quite the impression” on the sorority since accepting the bid and that they (including the chapter advisor) thought you’d be the perfect fit for the social chair.

“it’s a solo position, so you won’t have a co-chair like community service does, but given your grades so far this semester and the impact you’ve made on the chapter already, we would really love to see what you can do in this position! would you be interested?”

so really, how could you say anything but yes? you still don’t think you fit all that perfectly into the chapter, but they were giving you an opportunity to get involved and to make yourself fit. your name is announced for the social chair, one of your senior pictures pasted up on the powerpoint, and the girls around you smile and snap their fingers. from the executive board seats up front, your big smiles at you, eyes sparkling with something akin to pride.

a few days later, as you’re getting lunch at the student union, your phone screen lights up with a notification from groupme. a name you vaguely recognize is paired with a message that gets cut off after a few words.

heeseung lee: hey! this is heeseung from lambda rho and…

as you sit down with your salad and dr. pepper, you click the notification and read it in full. at the very top of the new message thread is heeseung’s picture and it clicks where you recognize him from. he’s friends with your big and he’s involved in a few of the bigger student organizations on campus, namely the activities board, so you’ve seen him in the student union fairly often.

[1:36 pm] heeseung lee: hey! this is heeseung from lambda rho! i’m friends with liv and she told me that you just got elected as the new social chair for your sorority. i just got slated into the same position for my frat.

[1:36 pm] heeseung lee: i know we won’t start running things until next semester, but i just wanted to reach out and touch base with you. i’m really looking forward to planning runouts with you next year :]

[1:37 pm] heeseung lee: sorry. i hope that wasn’t too weird. i guess i’m just a little too excited and want to get a bit of a headstart on things. have a good day!

you laugh to yourself, shaking your head as you set the phone down to take a bite of salad. before getting involved in greek life, you always assumed sorority girls and frat guys were airheaded and mean, people who peaked in high school, trying desperately to drag those glory days out. obviously since then, you’ve come to realize that while it is true in some occasions, most times, greek life members are the opposite.

heeseung, who you’ve never spoken to before, is proving that.

[1:42 pm] hi heeseung! not weird at all, i promise. and i’m really excited to plan events with you next semester too :]

by the beginning of february, you haven’t done much with your position. granted, the semester has only really been in full swing for about a week and a half and you have two full semesters to do plenty of things, but you’re itching to start planning. the binder you were given after the officer transition ritual has so many good ideas, everything from runouts with frats and sororities to both formal and semiformal.

while you’re brainstorming ideas for potential social events late on a tuesday night, your phone lights up from its spot on your nightstand, the short bell sound ringing out. you reach for it absentmindedly as you finish writing down the idea you had (rent out skating rink??? check budget). since the beginning of the school year, you’ve become desensitized to the groupme icon when it appears in your notifications, so much so that you barely register heeseung’s name upon first glance. it takes a second look for you to realize who’s texted you.

[9:12 pm] heeseung lee: sorry for texting so late. i just wanted to see if you wanted to meet up some time and start on some ideas for a runout?

[9:12 pm] heeseung lee: obviously not now!! but if you’re free some time this week, we could meet somewhere and talk. i spent all of winter break brainstorming stuff, so i’d really like to run it by you if that’s ok.

[9:14 pm] hi again heeseung. i was actually planning on getting lunch tomorrow at the student union after i’m done with class at 11 if you’re free then?

the second you press send, you immediately start second guessing yourself. does it come off like you’re asking him to have lunch with you? because that wasn’t your intention. really, you just meant that you’re going to be on campus proper for a little bit and wanted to offer to meet before you got lunch. not that it would be a bad thing if he asked if you could get lunch together; liv likes heeseung well enough and you’ve seen him around, and he really does seem nothing but nice, so lunch really couldn’t hurt— okay, take a breath. it is not that serious.

you take a deep breath and then let your muscles go lax as you exhale. better. 

it feels like ages pass before he texts back. you’re worried you’ve scared him off, but it really shouldn’t be that stressful. it’s just a text and he’s the one who wanted to meet up in the first place anyways; you just offered a time and location. but finally, your phone dings again and his name lights up your screen.

[9:21 pm] heeseung lee: actually that works perfect!! i get out of class at the same time and usually grab lunch at the u before heading to the activities board office. wanna meet by the dining area next to the office?

[9:21 pm] sounds like a plan!! i’ll see you then!

heeseung, you realize as you set your phone down and put away your binder for the night, is the only social chair of any of the greek organizations who has reached out to you to start getting the ball rolling. he seems to be just as anxious as you are about doing this job well, which makes you feel at least a little validated. nervous and jittery though you may be about meeting him for the first time tomorrow after only having chatted with him over text twice, the idea of him feeling the same as you brings a strange form of comfort. with enough of it, you actually start looking forward to seeing him tomorrow as you lay down to sleep, mind running a mile a minute with what it’ll be like to meet him after all of the things you’ve heard about him from liv. by the time you slip into the embrace of sleep, anxiety has boiled down into anticipation.

at 11:02 the next morning, heeseung nearly scares the hell out of you when he shows up at the designated meeting spot. you’re so invested in your twitter scroll that you don’t notice when he walks up. it’s not until he says a soft “hi” that you jump and almost drop your phone in the process. when you look up, there’s a worried look on his face.

“sorry! i didn’t mean to scare you!” 

after a moment to catch your breath, you shake your head and wave his worry off, though the gesture doesn’t do much to make that worried look on his (undeniably pretty) face. “it’s okay, heeseung. really.”

to really seal the deal, you shoot him a gentle smile, trying to prove that your heart isn’t about ready to give out anymore. you feel blessed when he returns it, all quirked up at the corners and smile lines and soft, plush cheeks. silence falls, the two of you smiling and staring at each other like idiots until heeseung shakes himself out of his stupor.

“anyways…” he clears his throat and moves his gaze towards the food court. “what did you want to get to eat? my treat.”

you look up at him, at the way he’s pointedly not looking at you and instead examining the restaurants just beyond the dining areas. you know, the restaurants that have been the same for the last five years probably and will be here for another five, the ones he’s grabbed food from at least a couple of times since the semester started and even more since the beginning of the school year. 

“you don’t have to buy me lunch, heeseung. it’s-”

he finally turns to look at you again, that same easy smile still pulling his features into a soft form of happiness. “it’s no problem, really. just an act of good faith. all greek love and whatnot, you know?”

you laugh a little at that, conceding but allowing him to choose where he wants to get lunch from since he’s the one paying and you don’t really have a preference. by the time you’re sat opposite each other at a table with meals from the burger stall, your stomach is rumbling. you’re about half of the way through your burger when heeseung looks up from his fries, clearing his throat to get your attention.

“so…” he starts. it’s clear he hadn’t planned what he wanted to say before catching your focus, so an awkward silence settles over him, eyes on you but focused somewhere off behind you like he’s looking through you instead. you tilt your head, lean in close, which snaps him out of the trance and he restarts. “right, ideas for events. i have a binder from the last social chair of my frat with a bunch of things he did during his time.”

“oh! i do, too!” you interject. “there’s a bunch of stuff that the last girl did and then things some of the girls before her did too.”

heeseung’s grin breaks back across his face, bright and warm; you swear, a smile from this boy alone could break up the threatening winter storm currently hanging over campus. “there’s a bunch of good ideas in mine. but i’m not quite sure how well they’d work right now because of the weather.”

“are most of the ideas outside?” you inquire, taking a sip of your soda while he confirms your suspicions. when you put the cup back down, you wave off his concern. “no worries then. almost all of mine are ones that can be inside, so we could go through those if you want!”

heeseung nods and smiles that morning sunlight smile of his, and you can’t move quick enough to pull the thin pink binder out of your tote bag. he clears away some of the trash from the table so you can lay out the binder, intro page on full display. for the next five minutes, the pair of you pore over the pages upon pages of ideas, sleek white cut through with black ink that lists the idea, the locations, how much it costs. 

you’re so invested in going over everything with him that you hardly acknowledge when heeseung stands and moves into the open seat beside you so neither one of you is craning your neck. you simply adjust the binder so you can read through the pages comfortably. it isn’t until heeseung points one out excitedly and you look up in startle that you finally notice that he isn’t a foot away but inches, noses just centimeters apart.

right now, this is the most compromising position you could possibly be in with a boy you hardly know and you find yourself praying that nobody from either of your chapters decides to walk by. of course, neither of you have anything to hide – this is a simple brainstorming session, of course, absolutely nothing more – but liv and your small group of friends would never let you live this down if they saw it.

heeseung clears his throat after seconds that stretch into years and you break your gaze from his painfully (how can you be blamed for staring? he’s that soft kind of pretty that hypnotizes). “um… so i think rollerskating could be fun…”

it is a good event that your sorority has done with the other frats and sororities in the past, one that you were playing around with as a potential plan to pitch to him. the fact that he picked it out on his own accord makes you bristle with something akin to pride, a feeling so warm and comforting it has you leaning just a little closer to him.

let the girls see me, you think as your sweater-clad shoulder brushes against his own. there are worse things they could catch me doing.

“actually… this was one of the ones i was going to suggest if you didn’t find any that you were really interested in…” you say quietly, voice nearly lost in the din of the dining area of the student union.

heeseung looks at you, blinking slow and round and soft, as if each flutter of his eyelids is a moment of his brain processing your words. “really… maybe it’s a sign…?”

his voice is just as soft, matching your energy in one swift go. you wonder if he’s thinking the same thing as you, if he’s feeling that it seems like you’ve known one another forever despite only knowing each other for fifteen minutes max; it seems like your souls themselves are in complete synergy, so why would it be so farfetched to wonder if maybe you knew each other in a different life to have caused that synchrony?

you laugh a little and shrug, shoulder brushing against his softly; the movement is short and sweet, but your heart rises in you like the high tide, washing through your veins with foam and salt and the kind of breeze only the ocean can bring, chill and warm all at once. “maybe so.”

silence settles over the table like sand stirred on the ocean floor, the both of you lost in your own worlds. heeseung has dragged his soda to this side of the table and sips absentmindedly, gaze focused miles beyond the horizon of the hallway. he’s completely checked out when your consciousness wanders back into your body and you take the moment to study him a little: the even slope of his nose, high cheekbones paired with plush skin, long eyelashes that brush the apex of his cheeks when he blinks, a flutter of dark against light. 

there are worse boys you could be caught staring at.

you’re still thinking about your lunch with heeseung hours later, even when you’re out getting your weekly tuesday night ice cream with your big. liv is going on about how her professor for her linguistics class pissed her off during lecture today, but you’re not absorbing a single word of any of it. you remember vaguely that he openly disagreed with her during the lecture and they got into a debate in front of the whole class, but beyond that, you don’t know much else.

“god, he’s just the worst. i can’t believe– alright, you’re in the stratosphere right now. what’s going on?”

you snap back to reality, eyes wide and goosebumps prickling up under the sleeves of your sweater. you shake your head, trying to brush away the conversation she’s trying to prompt, even though it’ll be futile because liv can’t let things go for the life of her. “nothing! everything’s fine, i swear.”

liv’s eyes narrow and a single dark eyebrow quirks up. “yeah, i’m not buying it.”

you glare playfully at her, eating a spoonful of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. when you swallow, you answer with a pointed, “when do you buy anything i say? really, liv. it’s nothing.”

“did someone say something to you? i’m part of panhellenic and on the all-greek council. if someone did something, i can handle it.”

you shake your head earnestly and wave a hand for extra emphasis. “olivia. seriously. nothing happened.”

your big is silent for a few moments, studying you intently. her shady blue eyes, usually wistful and giving the impression of being miles away herself, cut right down to your very bone, as if she’ll find the answer she’s looking for written into your skin or soul, carved into your heart. eventually, she sighs and slumps back against the booth.

“alright, fine. i’ll believe you this time,” she says in a voice that hints at disappointment. “but you’d tell me if someone did say something to you, right? i’m serious about getting things taken care of if someone does something like that to you.”

you smile, reach across the table, rest your hand over her. “yes, liv. i would tell you if somebody treated me badly. you’re the only friend i have who would be willing to go to jail if needed. but i promise the situation doesn’t call for that right now.”

she perks up a little at your words and takes a deep breath, nodding. she’s back to her bubbly self, resuming her rant about her asshole linguistics professor who definitely shouldn’t have tenure. the whiplash her behavior gives you definitely just secured her an award for “most melodramatic” at formal in april (which, fuck you have to start planning that soon too).

you remain checked into liv’s rant, assenting when she asks you for your opinions on this professor who you’ve never met and never plan on meeting, and offering advice when she wants it. but you still find yourself wandering off at times, mind focused on heeseung.

you’re not sure why you don’t want to tell her about meeting with the boy earlier; she’s one of his friends and she’s always spoken so highly about him, so you shouldn’t feel embarrassed. in fact, she’s mentioned in passing a couple of times (mostly when she’s undeniably hammered) that she thinks you and heeseung would make a cute couple, even though she’s never seen the two of you interact, let alone exist in the same room.

but there’s something special about the thirty minutes you shared with heeseung. you met in a public place, sure, but something about it felt and still feels so sacred to you. it’s something you want to keep a secret for at least a little while. that soft sunshine smile and the low tide brushes of shoulders are things that, for now, belong solely to you and heeseung. it won’t kill liv to be left out of the loop for a while.

“do you think we should have it closer to midterms?” heeseung’s voice is pure static, like he’s going through a tunnel, even though there’s only half a campus worth of distance between you.

the two of you have graduated from groupme dms to phone calls over the course of three days. heeseung is saved affectionately in your phone as sseung with the deer emoji, one that you picked out as he sat across from you after you’d exchanged numbers; he doesn’t know about it, but he reminds you often of a deer caught in headlights with the way he stares at you all wide-eyed when you try to catch his attention.

“maybe? but people have to study. i’m not sure how often your guys are in the library, but i see at least thirty girls at the library every single night, so i’m not sure how willing they’d be to give up a night of studying, even if it is only for an hour, that close to midterms.”

heeseung’s small, thoughtful hmm is audible over the speaker and you smile to yourself over a basket of clean laundry. you’ve spent maybe three hours max with him over the last couple of days and already you have a pretty decent grasp on his personality and habits. right now, you can picture the way he likely looks up from his phone or planner and stares off past the beige cinderblock wall of his dorm room, turning possibilities over in his head.

“no, you’re right about that. i didn’t even consider it.”

you shrug as though he can see you, folding a pair of sweats and setting them to the side. “i’d definitely like for it to be soonish though. it doesn’t have to be planned super far in advance, you know what i mean? we’ve still got… what? a month until midterms?”

“i think so, yeah.”

you nod to yourself, hanging up one of your shirts. “okay, so what about two weeks from now? that lands us right in between now and midterms, so it’d be a happy medium.”

he’s silent on the other end of the line and you pause in your hanging of another shirt, worried that he’s thinking you’re stupid. of course, heeseung would never think anything like that about anyone because he’s the sweetheart to end all sweethearts. still, you worry because what this boy thinks of you is ridiculously imperative to your day to day functions.

three days, you remind yourself. you’ve known him for three days. there’s no reason for his opinions to hold this much weight.

you wonder if heeseung knows just how easy it is to like him, to be around him; if he knows just how much you want to see him all the time because he’s completely taken over your every waking thought. liv’s comments about him made in passing never could have truly captured just how amazing he is, nice and caring and so so pretty. you’re almost embarrassed to be this head over heels for him, but when he laughs over the phone or focuses all of his attention on you over a table in the food court, that mortification burns away into something soft and sweet and slow.

“i think that’s a great idea. not too soon, so we can make sure our chapters know it’s happening, but not too late that it disrupts any midterm studying.”

you breathe a sigh of relief and smile to yourself, resting your hands against the lip of the laundry basket. the rational part of your brain knew he was going to agree, but the part of you that so desperately craves his approval was disgustingly terrified that you wouldn’t receive it. now that you have, though, a heat rushes through you, pride warm and bright because you offered a good solution to the minuscule obstacle.

“yeah, exactly!”

you can just imagine the grin on heeseung’s face right now, delicate like freshly fallen snow. the image fills you with the giddiness of a high school girl, glad to be the one to have caused such a beautiful sight. “okay, cool. i’ll talk about it with the executive board, get it approved and whatnot, but i think we should be set, besides who’s paying for what.”

“what do you mean?” you question, brows furrowing as you finish up the last of your laundry.

“what do you mean?” there’s a playful, teasing edge in his voice. “someone has to pay to book the rink and the shoes, and don’t you think there should be snacks?”

“oh… yeah, i guess so.”

“so i was thinking we’d cover the booking and you could cover the food… but only if you’re cool with that! obviously, it’s not a big deal or anything, but i figured we should get that in order too so we can a specific date set and everything.”

“no, no! that works fine for me! i honestly hadn’t thought that far ahead, so it’s a good thing you did.” the line falls silent for a few moments, static crackling softly between you. there’s just something about the idea that you’re so close yet so far from each other, physically distant but holding each other close like this over a quiet cellphone line. it’s comforting to have him like this, you find.

“but yeah…” you break the stillness with your voice soft so as to not completely shatter the tranquility you’ve cultivated here. “that’s… that’s good thinking, heeseung.”

“hanks…” his own words mimic the same volume, nearly lost in the haze of the phone. “so… i’ll run it by the exec board and let you know?”

you hum a quick mhmm and tell him that you’ll do the same. there should be no reason that you’ll be denied, but the fact that liv, seeing as she’s vice president of programming, is part of the exec board and will find out that you’ve been, at the very least, talking to heeseung on a semi-regular basis (see: every day this week since tuesday afternoon) is a little nerve wracking, mostly because you’re ninety-nine percent sure she’s been hinting at trying to set the two of you up.

and when you say hinting, you mean pointing him out on campus or at parties and saying something like “really, i think you two would get along so well! you should go and talk to him.”

she was right about that, but the last thing you need right now is her finding out that you are catching feelings, all without her meddling. but you’ll make peace with the fact because you have to.

liv sidles up to you two weeks later on a thursday night, knit-clad arms crossed over her chest. you don’t even have to look at her to know she’s wearing a smug expression right now. “so…”

you don’t even physically react to her presence, instead choosing to gaze out over the rollerskating rink in your little college town. “so… what, liv?”

she nudges you with her shoulder and leans with her back against the wall separating the rink floor from the carpet of the sitting area. “you and heeseung, huh? i’ve been telling you for ages that the two of you would get along!”

you scoff playfully and roll your eyes, finally turning your head to look at her. “can you not start sentences like that?”

“like what?” she asks innocently.

“like heeseung and i have something going on. all we did was plan one runout together. we’ve only met, like, one time in person.”

you regret the words almost as soon as they leave the tip of your tongue because the second she hears the phrase “in person,” she’s already causing a scene. even though her voice is somewhat drowned out by the music blasting over the speakers, the absolute tenacity with which she gestures with her entire body draws more attention than it should. melodramatic as per usual.

“in person? when was this? and why was i not informed?” the questions liv asks a million times come out more like exclamations than anything else, too caught up in melodramatic distress to adjust the tone of her voice correctly.

you shrug absently, turning your head back towards the rink. heeseung is standing on the opposite side, talking to a few of the guys from his frat. he looks nice in his blue and green sweater and loose jeans, brown hair tousled from the winter breeze outside. “a couple weeks ago. and i didn’t tell you because it just wasn’t that important. we literally only had lunch just to talk about ideas for this.”

liv whines your name and stomps a foot like a child throwing a tantrum. “yeah, but i’m your big. i wanna know these things! and i’ve also been trying to set you two up forever! you didn’t think i’d want to know that you’d finally met him, even if it wasn’t because of anything i’d plan? my feelings are hurt.”

“first, this is exactly why one of the awards for formal this semester is going to be most over dramatic and exactly why you’re going to win,” you start, shaking your head and rolling your eyes. “second, i knew you would want to know, but i also knew this is how you’d react. i didn’t think you’d want to know about us setting up an event together, like… there’s no tea to spill or whatever. it’s just boring stuff. i don’t even know him that well.”

a bold-faced lie if you’ve ever told one; you know heeseung down to the cologne he puts on every morning. and maybe there was a little more to the event planning sessions. at least five times over the past two weeks, heeseung has approached you either in the food court or at the library, and taken the seat opposite of you to chat and study a bit. not to mention, you’ve texted every single day since the two of you officially met for the first time.

but again: nothing liv needs to know. heeseung, for now, is just your little secret. the conversations you’ve shared, the little details you know about him, the sweater he’d given you a few days ago when you’d gotten cold at the library and your own sweater had gotten soaking wet due to rain and your lack of an umbrella, those are your things, special and personal and entirely yours.

“ugh. the two of you are so boring,” liv moans dramatically, tipping her head back. “i hope you hang out more after this, but only if you tell me about it.”

you shrug and glance back across the rink. heeseung has shifted positions, his arms crossed over the railing and by some stroke of luck, he’s looking at you, looking otherworldly under the shifting blue and purple lights. he smiles softly, just a quick phantom of a grin, and the only think you can do is return it with that same gentleness and warmth.

“maybe,” you say, glancing over at liv and then back at heeseung. “i guess we’ll just have to see.”

a week later, you’re sitting in your dorm room on a friday night, finalizing edits for a midterm paper, when there’s a banging at your door fifteen minutes before ten.

“heyyy! let me innn!” liv’s voice is airy and slurred through the door, so you can already guess what she’s here for.

with a heavy sigh, you stand and make your way to the door, opening it and finding your big leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. she’s dressed in her usual party attire: ripped jeans, black tank top, dirty shoes reserved specifically for the sticky basement floors of frat houses. she’s holding a metal water bottle in her hands; you can only guess what she’s mixed in it tonight.

“what’s up, liv?” you ask, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe, even though you don’t need an answer. you hadn’t anticipated her being here, so you’re already decked out in your comfy night clothes, prepared for a night in only. 

“lambda is throwing a party and you’re going with me,” she says peppily, practically jumping up and throwing herself into your room.

“liv-“

she whips around on her heels to face you, eyes glowing in the soft gold of your fairy lights. “no fighting me on this. you’ve been working hard and you need a break. so you’re going to dress like the hot bitch you are and then we’re going to lambda.”

liv is rooted to the spot, though she sways a little on her feet, and makes it known without words that she is not moving until you get ready for this dumb frat party. eager to get her drunken glare off of you, you sigh and nod, closing the door behind you, shutting off your desk light, and moving towards your wardrobe, rifling through the hangers to find a proper outfit.

you’ve been to lambda rho’s house before and it is nothing to write home about… unless, of course, you’re talking about how absolutely filthy the basement is; they have the best sized basement out of all of the frats on campus, but you swear they have never done anything to clean the floor. the first time you went, you’d been having a great time drinking well-mixed jungle juice and dancing to the best songs of the 2010s when you noticed that every step you took sounded like velcro. the floor was so sticky that you were literally having to put pressure behind pulling your shoes from the concrete. it totally killed the vibe.

but the jungle juice and occasional jello shots are great, so you persevere. besides, lambda throws the best parties on campus and you’re clearly the person to trust on party hot takes since you only go back to frats you have a good time at (sorry, sigma pi).

plus, heeseung is in lambda rho and he has to be there since he’s the social chair and all, so… you note that out of the maybe five parties you’ve been to there since the beginning of the school year, you’ve never once seen him. granted, he’s only required to be at any parties hosted while he’s the social chairman, so maybe he just didn’t go to any last semester. or maybe he’s a wallflower like you, choosing to stand on the outskirts instead of in the center of attention.

lost in your haze of heeseung thoughts, you don’t really register that you’ve finished dressing and that liv has sat you down at your desk to fix your hair. somehow, while very much drunk, your big has an easy time styling it. she’s focused intensely on the task at hand, but also manages to carry on a one-sided conversation, not realizing that you’re not responding to her. but when she moves her hands from your head and sets them on the back of your chair, you’re amazed; she’s always been good at styling and fashion (hence why she’s been in charge of the homecoming student org dance and cheer competition every fall for the last two years), but you weren’t expecting her skills to be up to par while buzzed to hell and back.

“there we go, ready to wow heeseung,” liv says matter-of-factly, a proud look on her face. when you glare at her through the mirror, she smiles and shrugs lazily, reaching to grab her water bottle and phone from your desk. “what? he’ll be there tonight and i’ve heard through the grape vine that he might have a little crush on you, so…”

you whip around at her words, hands braced against the back of your chair. something like liquid anxiety prickles under your skin, sending goosebumps across your arms. liv is friends with just about everyone in greek life, so “the grape vine” could quite literally mean anybody, but who did she find that out from anyways? when did heeseung say anything like that? did he even actually say that or is she just deadset on shipping the two of you together until it either happens or falls through?

“what?”

she looks back at you over her shoulder, one hand resting on the doorknob and your dorm keys in the other. there’s a mischievous glint in her dark eyes and your heart drops; how did you get such a schemer as a big? “oh, yeah. i was hanging out at the lambda house the other night with yeonjun. you know? heeseung’s big? and he maybe mentioned something about it. why do you wanna know?”

she sidles back up to you, pulling you out of the chair by your shoulders. “do you maybe… i don’t know… like him back? why are you so nervous?”

you shake your head, trying to will the goosebumps on your arms and lightning in your veins away. you’ve claimed a million times over the last few weeks that there is nothing more going on between you and that boy, no matter how pretty or sweet you might think he is. heeseung is just a friend, someone you just so happened to click really well with and just so happened to plan a really fun event with. there’s nothing else to say about it or the way you get excited when his name shows up on your phone or how your day immediately gets better when he walks up to you at the library without texting you first, your favorite snack and coffee in hand and a smile on his face.

there’s nothing there to unpack. you think.

“i’m not nervous. and i bet yeonjun just misheard heeseung. the two of us are just friends. i’ve told you that a million times and i’m sure he’s said the same thing.”

liv just laughs and ushers you towards the door. “okay, okay… sure, sweetheart. let’s get over there before they run out of alcohol.”

jay, the self-appointed dj for every lambda rho party, is blasting year 3000 by the jonas brothers when you and liv arrive in the basement. there’s already a large group of bodies on the dance floor, but the bar area is still pretty crowded and getting worse. liv links her arm with yours so that you won’t get separated, even though there’s no chance of you getting lost or anything.

the two of you make your way towards the bar where yeonjun is “bartending,” a term he insists on using despite the fact that all he does is pour cups of vibrant red jungle juice. blonde hair hangs over his forehead and his skin is glistening with sweat already, looking weirdly ethereal under the colorful lights that fill the room. when he sets eyes on you and liv, he smiles brightly and leans against the bartop.

“hey, you two! glad you finally showed up!” he shouts over the music. “jungle juice?”

liv nods enthusiastically, mimicking his posture and crossing her arms on top of the counter. “yes please! any chances you have jello shots tonight too?”

the boy looks around before he leans in closer to answer. “don’t tell anyone else, but i made some just for you two since you’re my favorite customers.”

liv rolls her eyes and swats at his bicep, but she’s smiling anyways. “we’re not customers, jun. you’re not even getting paid to do this. when are you gonna stop acting like you’re a real bartender, huh?”

he clenches his hand over his heart and stumbles backwards, feigning pain. “you wound me so, liv. i did something nice for you and this is how you repay me. i can’t believe this!”

but in the midst of his monologue, he bends over to open a mini fridge behind the bar and returns with a couple of jello shots. he tells you to take them here while he gets your drinks and hide them the best you can so nobody gets up in arms that he’s providing something outside of the night’s menu. he’s always been especially nice to you, mostly because of liv and his undying love for her (though platonic or romantic, you’ve never been exactly sure about), so it’s all you can do to thank him and listen to his pleads for secrecy regarding the contraband jello shots. when he’s back above bar, you switch off, him discreetly tossing the small cups in the trash.

liv, finally armed with her precious red solo cup, turns to talk to some other friends, leaving you and yeonjun alone. the music is so loud you can hardly keep your thoughts straight, which is great for keeping your mind off of what liv said earlier, but doesn’t last long when yeonjun leans in ever closer, his cologne enveloping you entirely.

“you should thank heeseung for the jello shots, by the way. i honestly hadn’t even thought to make some for you and liv because i was busy with other stuff, but he asked about making some since he knows they’re your favorite.”

your heart clenches a little at the idea that heeseung wanted to make sure that you had things you liked at his frat’s party. it’s nice to have someone looking out for small things like that, even if it means breaking a rule or two. yeonjun rests his hand on top of your head and pats gently, a knowing look in his eyes.

“listen, i know that you swear up and down the wall that you and him are just friends, but for what it’s worth, he likes you a lot. he just won’t say it. you know him. he’s kinda bad with words. it’s not really my place to make his confession for him, but just… you know. give him a chance.”

you nod dumbly and give him a half-baked smile when he pulls his hand off your head. a few girls walk up, vying for their own drinks, so you take that as your cue to walk away, red solo cup cradled in your hands. any hope of not thinking about heeseung lee has been completely undone by both liv and yeonjun. 

suddenly, you are far too sober.

two hours later, you’re five drinks in, only kept track of by the cups you have in your hand, and you’re feeling pleasantly buzzed. the lights are a little brighter, the music a little louder, liv’s arm hot and grounding around your shoulders. she’s completely gone, despite the fact that she’s only had three cups of jungle juice. she’s serenading you with dancing queen by abba, somehow getting every single word wrong. 

“fuck, i’m way too drunk for this,” she says, breaking off a line in the middle of the second verse. “i’ll sing for you next time. promise.”

you laugh and lean against her, shaking your head. “okay, livvie. sounds good.” you’re content to end your sentence there, but you have an increasing awareness of how hot it’s gotten. the amount of people packed into the basement, especially in the center of the dancefloor like this, has contributed greatly to the heat and you need some time to cool down before it makes you sick. “listen, ‘m gonna get some air. ‘t’s getting really hot.”

liv nods and hugs you to her, voice chipper but slurred heavily. “‘kay! i’ll see you in a few.” she lets you go and breaks out into the next song, somehow worse than dancing queen.

you slip out of the crowd, already feeling a little cooler now that you’ve escaped from the hot press of bodies. standing on the outskirts of the dancefloor, you consider your options. there’s the open window that a cool breeze passes through or the door by yeonjun’s bar, which you know leads directly outside with a staircase up to the back deck. while you initially planned to be within arm’s reach for liv’s sake, your ears are starting to ring from the loud music and the choice is made for you.

you wave to yeonjun as you make your way towards the door. he pauses and leans over to ask you if you’re leaving, looking a little concerned, but you shake your head and tell him what you told liv. and then you tack on the information that she’s incredibly drunk, so he should watch out for her because knowing her, she’ll be tapping out sooner rather than later. he nods in understanding and lets you go, turning back to the two frat guys, jake and chan, that are standing at the bar.

the temperature difference between the basement and outside right now is jarring, but welcomed nonetheless. you carefully traverse the stairs, not quite confident in yourself to take them confidently, seeing as your sight is currently swimming a little and your head is light. getting to the top is a feat and you feel immediately better once you’re on the back deck.

you’re so out of it that you don’t realize you aren’t alone as you lean against the railing, reveling in the way the wood digs into your forearms and the chill bites at you through the sheer long sleeves of your black shirt. you’re still very much buzzed, but you feel a little more clear-headed now that you can hear yourself think.

the sound of your name startles you and you swear you jump ten feet in the air before you whip around, hand against your heart. heeseung is halfway out the back door, a cup in his hand and that deer caught in the headlights expression you’ve come to know well over the last month or so. 

“jesus, heeseung. you scared the shit out of me!” you say, catching your breath and leaning back against the railing.

“i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to!” he finishes stepping out of the house and onto the deck with you, the door swinging shut behind him. he’s so earnest in his apology that you can’t help but smile, dropping your hand and instead taking a sip from your drink that you carried out here with you.

“you have a habit of sneaking up on me, huh?”

he joins you at the railing, leaning against it the way you are, and raises his own cup to his lips (perfect and plush and pink… enough of that). he shrugs as he drinks, wincing when it goes down rougher than he expected. the liquid that sloshes against the side is not the same color as yours, so you can only assume that one of the guys gave him something a little stronger than whatever they threw together for the jungle juice.

“i guess so,” he says through a small cough. “i don’t mean to, if that makes it any better.”

you laugh a little, nudging him with your shoulder. “it’s not a big deal, if that makes you feel better. i think it’s kinda funny.”

heeseung smiles at that and nods, keeping his eyes trained on the drink in his cup. it’s only when you’re committing his side profile to drunken memory that you realize the blush that’s crept up the back of his neck onto his cheeks and the tip of his ears. except, that sober voice inside your head argues it could just be from the cold. 

but neither of you have been out long enough for that to be the case. it’s not even that cold out here, just a little bit chilly. drunk you is having sneaking suspicions, ones that sober you would never entertain, and this is the first time you’re seeing heeseung at one of his frat’s parties, so you might as well take advantage of it all as much as you can.

“yeonjun told me what you did… the jello shots for me and liv, i mean,” you clarify the second you realize how the first sentence sounds without context. “thanks. i didn’t think you were really paying attention to that kind of stuff.”

heeseung turns his head to look at you, eyes a little wide but that soft, perfect smile offsets it nicely. he looks a little surprised that you found out about it, but not upset that yeonjun mentioned it.

“well… i mean, of course i do. that’s kinda… what i do, you know?”

he’s beating around the bush. yeonjun was right; heeseung never talks about his feelings and he sure as hell won’t offer you the words you’re waiting to hear right now. so, drunk you reasons, why is the only way to confess through words? he’s shown you how much he cares, he’s been doing it for weeks now. maybe you were suppressing your own feelings to keep liv off your back about it all, but in doing so, you’ve been diminishing heeseung’s own attempts at telling you. 

this whole thing with him has never been simply friends. love at first sight feels a little much, but you certainly have something between you and you have for weeks on end at this point. maybe it’s time to reward this beautiful boy for being so patient with you.

just as he’s beginning to turn his head away to look back towards the house, you set your cup on the railing and capture his face in your hands. there’s no moment for either of you to process what’s happening, just that one minute there’s a platonic amount of distance between you and the next, your lips are on his and it is warm and unpracticed and still unbelievably perfect. heeseung goes pliant and soft under your touch, his free hand resting gently on the small of your back. his fingers curl gently into your shirt, tethering himself to you. his other hand is still grasping his solo cup and you find yourself wishing he’d just drop the damn thing, even if it means the both of your shoes get soaked in whatever he’d been served (whiskey, you’d guess, from the smokey taste on his tongue).

he’s the first to pull away, eyes still closed for moments after. his breaths come shallow and his cheeks have gone impossibly red, his hand still against your back. you study him from this angle, closer than you’ve ever been, and somehow, you’re finding him prettier than ever before. maybe it’s the alcohol talking or the sudden lovesickness for him, but you don’t care because you finally kissed heeseung lee and left him breathless.

“what- um… what was that for?” he asks quietly, eyes fluttering open. his pupils are blown wide and awestruck (you think that’s the right word in your jungle juice induced haze).

you shrug, inching yourself a little closer towards him. he turns to meet you so your bodies run parallel to each other and finally sets his offending cup on the railing next to yours. “got tired waiting for you t’make a move.”

he makes a sound in the back of his throat and turns his head to look elsewhere, as if looking at you might make him drop dead. any doubt you had from earlier in the night that he’d told yeonjun that he liked you is swept away in a single moment; he can deny it all he wants now, but you already know the truth, so what’s the point?

“liv told me that she heard through the grape vine that you liked me…” you say softly, voice trailing off into the muffled sounds of a kesha song blasting in the basement. “is that… true?”

you watch as he draws a deep breath, squeezes his eyes closed, steels himself for whatever answer he’s about to give. with all your liquid courage now, confessing might not have been a big deal, but you know that if you’d been sober, it would be just as hard as this. but you swear you saw him drinking jungle juice down in the basement an hour and a half ago, and now he’s drinking something stronger, so he must be so naturally shy that not even alcohol can wipe it out.

finally, he lets his breath out and focuses his attention on you again, his eyes soft and pleading. don’t break my heart. please.

“yeah… yeah, i got a little drunk last weekend and told yeonjun that i thought i had feelings for you when he got me back to my dorm. i’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable or if it ruins our friendship. i j–”

you kiss him again, hot and heavy and full of longing and words you don’t dare voice because you’ve liked him for a long time too; you were just too afraid to admit it to yourself. but now he’s spilling his heart out and you’d rather walk barefoot through broken glass before you let him go on thinking for a second longer that his feelings aren’t reciprocated tenfold.

you step impossibly closer, your bodies pressed tight and heavy, the seam unbreakable. heeseung’s hands (both thank god) rest on your waist, holding you close. he bristles under your touch as you leave one hand on his shoulder and the other sneaks around to the nape of his neck, fingers curling into the fine, soft hair there. your nails scratch lightly against his scalp and his chest shudders against yours, some small, refined gasp of approval passing from his mouth to yours as he takes his turn to kiss the breath out of you.

it’s a tiny noise, barely noticeable, barely passing as a soft breathy moan. but you hear it and it’s embarrassingly enough to have your knees going a little weak. well, it’s not just that minuscule noise; it’s everything, it’s the way heeseung’s lips move against your own with an uncharacteristic amount of surety, the way his fingers have slipped under your shimmery black top (a “donation” from liv’s closet last homecoming), the way you can feel his body coming alive under your attention. if this is going where you think it’s going, the dreams you’ve been having about him at least once a week since you first met are about to come true.

heeseung is the first to break away again, but he looks less nervous than the first time. no, this time he looks flushed and tousled and so attractive it should be illegal. when he shifts his weight from his left to right foot, his body brushes against you and the heat of him is unmistakable. even if you couldn’t feel it, you can see the way his eyelids flutter and feel the way his chest shudders against yours. you can’t help yourself; you need him.

“come back to my dorm,” you whisper breathlessly, words manifesting physically in a cloud of fog. “please.”

the boy squeezes his eyes shut again, looks up towards the sky, draws that deep breath he’s so fond of right now. you almost back out, almost say it was a joke; he just confessed his feelings and you kissed twice, so maybe it’s all a little much for him. you really like him and you don’t want to scare him off; besides, what you’re feeling right now is nothing you can’t take care of on your own back in your dorm room. just as you’re about to tell him that he can say no, he’s seemingly talked himself up enough because he looks down at you, smiles, kisses you on his own accord, and then takes your hand.

“lead the way,” he says.

you and heeseung stop at least five times on the way back to your dorm room to makeout, giggling into each other’s mouths as he presses you against a tree on the greens or as you pull him into the pools of darkness between streetlamps. every moment has him growing more confident, more certain that this isn’t just a hookup or a dream.

somewhere along the way, you text liv and tell her that you’re heading home because you’re not feeling well. it’s not farfetched, seeing as you’d broken away from her in the first place because you were feeling too hot. what happened between your departure and when the text is sent is entirely irrelevant right now. what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her and she’ll hear about it sooner rather than later anyways. 

it takes you maybe a full twenty minutes to reach your building, a feat considering how drunk you are and how obsessed you’ve been with heeseung for the last half hour. you fully expected it to take longer, but now, you stand under the golden glow of the entry to your dorm building, heeseung unlocking the door for you because you’re a little too gone right now and unwilling to take your hands off him,standing next to him, your arms hugging his free one while you lean your cheek against his shoulder. he fumbles with the key, muttering about how they should change to a keycard system instead, but he gets it eventually and you’re in.

after that, it’s practically a mad dash up to your dorm room on the third floor. your hand is twined tight around heeseung’s as you lead him up the stairs, too impatient to take the elevator right now. somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re glad that you took the time to clean your room today after class; heeseung will see a polished side of you, one that puts laundry away as soon as they’re out of the dryer, one that has glowing golden fairy lights above the window that gild your room in warmth, one that leaves books and binders stacked neatly in the shelf on your desk. not that he’ll be paying attention to any of it anyways, what with the way you can feel his cock pressing incessantly against you as you unlock your bedroom door, hot and straining.

agonizing seconds stretch into what feels like even more agonizing hours, but eventually, you get the door unlocked and guide him inside, stepping into the glow of your string lights that you’d left on before you left. you don’t even have to turn yourself around to look at him because he does it for you, turning you by your waist, pressing you fast against the back of the now-closed door.

his mouth is on yours in an instant, tongue swiping over your bottom lip, no doubt tasting the fruit punch yeonjun had added to tonight’s jungle juice recipe concoction. his hands are on your waist, curling hot into your skin, black mesh of your shirt scratching against you. it’s nice, how respectful he’s being right now, still ever the gentleman he’s been for the last month, but you don’t want nice and respectful right now. you’ve had literal dreams about this since you met him, driving your attraction to him higher with every one; you want mean and messy and rough, and that’s what you’ll get if it’s the last thing you do.

so in a bid to urge him towards where you’re really hoping this night goes, you grab at one of his wrists and drag his hand up to your chest, pressing his palm against your breast. you can feel his breath hitch against you and you smile into the kiss because how can he still be so shy when he’s kissed the breath out of you at least five times in the last forty-five minutes? either way, he gives a tentative squeeze and it feels mind blowingly good; you’ve never been one to really care much about attention focused on your tits, but heeseung makes it feel like maybe you should.

you get lost in the feeling of his lips on yours, one of his hands kneading at your chest, the other slowly slipping under your top, rough fingertips drawing up and down the skin of your stomach, so far gone that you don’t notice the thigh he’s slotted between your legs until he grinds it up against you. it’s sudden and so well-earned, some much needed friction that you’ve been craving since that second kiss on the deck in lambda rho’s backyard. he does it a second time, the hard plane of his thigh coming up hard against your clit, and your knees buckle a little, dropping you further onto him. you moan sweetly into his mouth, tilting your head back against the door as the hand on your waist works your hips against him with a scary but uncharacteristic practiced certainty. he takes the absence of your mouth against his to trail kisses on your neck, his teeth dragging along the sensitive skin, nipping and leaving love bites in his wake.

a well aimed grind of your hips, guided singularly by the boy in front of you, has you falling forward against his chest, your forehead pressed into the junction between his shoulder and neck. you keen against him in frustration, the crest rising but not breaking, no matter how hard to try to get it to.

“seung,” you cry against his skin, fingers curling tight into his sweater. “need more please.”

you almost sob in relief when you feel him nod against your neck, more so when you notice his own hips are stuttering against your leg that is bracketed by his. it’s enough to make you moan, the idea of him needing it just as much as you that he’s trying to hold himself back from getting off on your thigh too.

pressing your palms flat against his chest, you guide heeseung backwards in the direction of your bed (which you’re very suddenly glad you haven’t lofted). when the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress, he makes quick work of kicking his shoes off and then scrambling up so that his back rests against the wall. you follow suit, toeing off your party shoes and crawling onto his lap where he’s waiting patiently, his eyes wide and the browns of his eyes drowned out by his pupils. he’s breathing hard, chest heaving.

he looks up at you as you situate yourself, his hands coming to rest on your waist again. the expression on his face is nothing short of worshipful, like you’re a deity here to wrench your well-earned respect from his hands. and he is clearly ready to hand it over without a single fight. he guides you down onto him and you follow his hands willingly, your thighs straddling his and your clothed cunt just barely grazing against his hard-on until you settle down completely in his lap, not a centimeter of distance between you. the friction and pressure have both of you gasping wordlessly and heeseung tugs desperately at your hips. you fall into him, arms around his neck and pulling him to meet you halfway, lips locked once more. you give a tentative roll of your hips and heeseung moans into your mouth, just the reaction you were anticipating.

“fuck,” he moans the second time you do it. “you’re so good.”

you’re already hot, seared through to the bone, but you feel yourself go even warmer under heeseung’s praise. you’ve imagined this a million times over the last few weeks, but nothing could ever compare to the real thing. you kiss him harder, breathe him in deep to prove to yourself that this is real, that heeseung lee is under you right now, bucking his hips up into you and matching your movements, about to make you come just from a little bit of dry humping. it would be embarrassing if you weren’t both half-gone and ridiculously desperate.

you continue to rut against him, panting hot and heavy into his mouth as he swallows every single moan and whimper you let out just to return them tenfold, his hands working you over him with a rushed ease. every roll of your hips is met with his own presses upwards. he’s working you higher and higher with each move, closer to the precipice, and while you’ve never before thought you’d find yourself in a position like this, if heeseung makes you come without taking a single item of clothing off either of you, then so be it.

as if he’s read your thoughts, he presses you back and away from him. you open your eyes for the first time in minutes and take him in: messy hair, flushed cheeks, bruised lips. no wet dream could have ever prepared you for how beautiful he looks right now.

but no matter how pretty you think he is in this moment, the sudden absence of friction has you whining loudly, pitched high and tight. when you speak, your voice trembles out of frustration. “heeseung, why’d you stop?”

he sucks in a breath and moves to push at your shoulders some more. “don’t- fuck- don’t wanna come yet, not like this.”

if you weren’t already so fucked out, you would have giggled, but right now, you just feel exasperated. he’s right; you don’t want to come like this either, but you’d also come to terms with it because it would mean that you would at least be getting the release you’re so desperately craving. and that’s been ripped away from you, at least for the moment. but when he looks up at you again, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes still wide with need, you fold immediately.

“tell me what you want.” he’s practically begging you and it sends a thrill through you, liquid lightning straight to your heart. “please.”

and how can you deny him when he’s asked you so sweetly or when you’re just as needy as he is? at this point, whatever he’d offer, you would take gladly. he’s gazing at you now, waiting anxiously for an answer, not that you have a set one; you want him in any way he wants you, nothing else matters more than that. but you take in his swollen lips and lithe fingers and your mind is off to the races.

“i-” you start, but stumble over your words. you’d been incredibly forward when you’d kissed him first, but you’ve lost all of that fire now. you can’t bring yourself to ask for what you want, even though you’re certain he’d do anything you’d ask of him.

“c’mon,” he coaxes, fingers kneading into your shoulders to ground you. “whatever you want.”

the sound of his voice is earnest, nothing short of honest, and it makes you want to trust him more than anything. so you do. you draw in a steadying breath and curl your hands into his sweater as you work yourself up to it.

“will you-” another breath. “would you eat me ou-”

“yes,” he immediately answers. you don’t even get a chance to finish the question. “fuck. i thought you’d never ask.”

he moves his hands to cup your face and pulls you into him, kissing you sweetly, his nose bumping against yours. the minuscule break in sexual tension, while in most situations would be a mood killer, is nice because it just further cements that this isn’t some random one night stand; you want to see him every day for the rest of your life after this, if he’ll let you.

somewhere between the kiss and when he breaks away from you, he’s maneuvered you so that you’re laying back against your pillows. you’ve also managed to discard your shirt (thank god, the glitter and mesh combo was starting to irritate your skin something fierce) and he’s working to get your pants off, fingers fumbling with the button; it’s as frustrating as it is adorable and he swats your hands out of the way when you reach down to help him, deadset on doing it himself, which he does manage (eventually, after a few incredibly long moments). you help him shimmy down your jeans and panties by lifting your hips a little and then you are inarguably bare in front of him, a position you’d never imagined you would be in.

and maybe heeseung is a little wonderstruck too because for a few long seconds, he sits there and stares at you in all your naked glory (or nearly naked glory, seeing as you haven’t taken your bra off yet, but he doesn’t seem to mind). you’re starting to get a little bashful and have to nudge him with a bent knee to pull him out of his stupor. he’s impossibly red at the tips of his ears as he murmurs a sweet apology that comes accompanied by a “you’re just so pretty.”

before you can muster a reply, he’s situating himself between your legs, hands pressing softly against your inner thighs to draw them apart, set eyes on his real destination. you lift your head just a little bit, watching as his eyes widen as he takes all of you in, his breath hot against your folds. his fingers curl tight into the soft skin of your thighs and you whimper at the sting, equally painful as it is exhilarating. he makes an indistinguishable groan in the back of his throat before he’s completely devouring you.

plenty of your wet dreams about the boy between your legs right now have included this very scenario: his nose bumping carelessly against your clit, a suddenly confident tongue making a show of licking up all of your arousal, your thighs already trembling. but they never could have prepared you for the actual thing because he’s giving you what is quite possibly the best head you’ve ever had.

heeseung is eating you out like a man starved, it’s absolutely obscene. his tongue works you up fast, every little moan he lets out only contributing. somewhere in the midst, he says something that sounds like “you taste s’good,” but his words are drowned out by your own moans and the sound of his mouth working you over. every pass of his tongue over your folds is as close as you’ve ever gotten to heaven, but you’re lacking something to really shove you over that precipice; and now you know heeseung is so whipped he’ll do anything you ask him to.

“seung,” you gasp out breathlessly, untangling one hand from your comforter so you can wind your fingers into his hair. he looks up at you, doe eyes big and wide and glimmering with his eyebrows drawn together, a questioning look without pulling away to speak. you’re about to ask him when his nose bumps hard against your terribly sensitive clit and your word breaks off before the first syllable can even leave your lips. “fuck— seung, can you— can you add your fingers?”

you’re not quite used to asking for what you want, at least verbally; maybe it’s because any previous partners weren’t keen on getting you to verbalize, maybe it’s because they never particularly cared and just did what they thought was good. but heeseung is pliant and willing to please in any way he can, so you feel less embarrassed this time around because he’s made it entirely clear that your pleasure is his main priority.

he doesn’t nod, doesn’t say anything, just closes his eyes again and goes back to work. you almost think he either didn’t hear you or is straight up ignoring you before you feel it. he pulls his hand from your right thigh slowly, letting his fingertips drag lightly against your skin; the menace is teasing you, where did that come from? but you don’t even have much time to internally complain about him holding out on you because he’s suddenly slipping two fingers into you, long, deft limbs that expertly seek out that spot inside you. he presses against it once, twice, three times, each one drawing out a whine from you.

it’s just what you need, the extra friction pushing you up that incline, closer and closer to the dropoff. when your back arches off the bed and your thighs close around his head, boxing him in against your pussy, heeseung knows he’s got you right where you want to be and then he doesn’t let up. it’s an onslaught of pressure, four different points of sensation, and you’re on the verge of tears. he’s making a complete mess of you, utilizing all he can to get you over that edge. you’re whining his name like it’s the only word you know, “yes” and “fuck” and “oh my god” getting lost in your slurred speech; he’d be evil incarnate if he denied you what you’re so beautifully begging for.

he presses incessantly at that spongy place inside you, nose bumping against your little bundle of nerves, moans growing more frequent, all while his tongue tries to catch every single drop of arousal. and then there you go, ecstasy taking over like liquid heat in your veins. his name sounds like pure euphoria on your tongue, mixed with your moans and whines. he thinks he could come just from this alone, your cum in his mouth and your thighs pressed tight around him, but he holds off because there’s only one place he wants to leave his release (if you’ll let him, that is).

“shit.” 

you sound fucked out, completely gone and heeseung swears he’s never heard anything sexier. you tug at his hair a little bit, feeling completely overstimulated but still so good, a shock to your system as he pulls his fingers out of you and lets his tongue work over you just a little bit longer (to make sure you’re clean, he reasons to himself). 

eventually, he does pull away and you have to fight the urge to whine again. his eyes are unfocused and glossed over, his chin practically dripping in your arousal. hell, his tongue darts out to get the last little bit of your cum at the corner of his lips and you nearly orgasm all over again.

“was it good?” he asks softly and you barely hold yourself back from laughing. he just made you come harder than any previous partner ever has, given you the best head in the world, and he’s asking you if it was good? he’s insane for thinking it was anything short of perfect.

but you don’t say that. you reach for his sweater, fingers curling tight into the cotton and tugging him down towards you. he catches himself by his hands, his arms bracketing you easily, before he completely crashes into you. there’s a long moment where he just stares down at you, lovestruck and pretty, before he lowers himself to kiss you. you can taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, and you moan a little bit, feeling a little embarrassed, but one of his hands moves from its place on the mattress to cradle your cheek and that alone drives it away. 

one of your arms sneaks over his shoulder, your fingers tangling into the damp hair at the nape of his neck, while the other sneaks under his sweater, the shirt he wears underneath until the tips of your fingers brush the soft, pliant skin of his stomach. you can feel the gentle ridges of abs and a small piece of you shivers with giddiness. regardless, you enjoy a few seconds of running your fingers over his stomach before you push a little more incessantly at the offending pieces of material. he takes it for what it is: a plea to get rid of the clothes. after all, it’s not fair that you’re almost entirely undressed and he hasn’t taken a single article off.

you watch dazedly as heeseung sits back onto his heels, your eyes following his arms as he crosses them over himself, grasps at the hems, pulling them over his torso, his arms, his head before they land haphazardly on the floor next to your bed. every inch revealed to you makes your mouth water, his skin taut and soft and glowing in your fairy lights. you can’t help but remind yourself that dreams and an overactive imagination could never live up to the real thing because he’s very much the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen.

you’re entirely prepared to continue your makeout session, but heeseung seems to have other ideas because once his tops are discarded, he begins making work of his jeans. you make a soft noise in the back of your throat when you realize what he’s doing and he looks up at you, fingers stilling at his belt, his eyes wide.

“is something wrong?”

he sounds so sincere, it kind of makes you want to cry. but you shake your head earnestly, propping yourself up on your elbows so you can look at him better. “no, no! everything is fine. i guess i just wasn’t expecting you to take your pants off so soon.”

he quirks an eyebrow at you and dons that pretty little smile of his, teasing but not really. “well, you’re almost completely undressed. figured it was only right that i do the same, y’know?”

and you laugh a little because it’s true and because he’s just so cute, he laughs too, soft and quiet. you generally think sleeping with someone is fun, but you’ve never had as much fun as you are right now. maybe it’s because it’s with heeseung and you like him so much already, so the playfulness comes easy; it doesn’t feel tense the way it has with others.

so you watch him handle his belt, the button on his jeans, the zipper. you watch, mouth watering once more, as he slips out of them, leaving his boxers, which have a dark wet patch on them. the sight alone would make you groan, but you can see the outline of his cock and you almost lose it completely. so you decide to resume the impatient act because you are still very much so; as cute as the playful routine is, you haven’t forgotten the exhilarating rush of trying to get to your dorm as fast as possible and the unpracticed fumbling that’s followed since then.

you reach for him and he doesn’t hesitate, letting you pull him on top of you by his shoulders, fitting your mouths together in a messy kiss, all teeth and tongues. your hands are in his hair again, his own slide underneath you to make work of your bra, unclasping it and then pulling the straps away from your shoulders, down your arms, making you let go of him for a quick few seconds so that he can pull it off completely and toss it god knows where in your room.

you’re distantly aware that you’re entirely bare to him now, but his mouth is working at your throat, dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin of your neck (he is strangely good at distracting you, you’re learning), so you don’t feel as shy as you did just a handful of minutes ago. either way, he’s sucking hickies into your shoulders, your collarbones, any skin that has a little bit of give to it that lets him leave love bites in his wake. so lost in the haze, you realize a little too late that he’s working his way towards your chest, but it doesn’t even matter, not when he has one hand kneading at one and his mouth at the other, tracing lines over your skin to quell the sting of each pinch, each little nip of teeth. your nipples pebble under his attention and while this never usually does much for you, you still find yourself getting antsy because it’s heeseung. everything he’s done for weeks has gotten you worked up, why would that stop now?

it doesn’t help that he’s grinding against you, his hips canting against your own for any semblance of friction. your arousal is no doubt contributing to the wet patch on his boxers and the idea of it almost has your eyes rolling into the back of your head. his cock feels hot and heavy against your folds, the head bumping against your clit, and all of it feels so delicious that you let out a crisp, high whine, twining your fingers into heeseung’s soft hair and tugging gently.

he pulls himself away from your chest and when you look at him, you almost moan. his lips are swollen, slick with spit, and his gaze has gone misty. he looks at you expectantly, blinking slow and lips pouted as he waits. you’re not even sure what you want from him right now, at least nothing specific because you want everything from him. you’re about to tell him to go back to doing what he was originally because it did feel good, but then he lands a particularly well-timed grind against you and you’re gasping.

“fuck,” you whimper, tossing your head back a little. your fingers tighten in his hair and from somewhere south of you, he laughs a little, light and easy and airy.

“that what you want from me?” he questions, pulling himself up over you, catching your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. in any other situation, it might come off as intimidating and teasing, but heeseung is all doe-eyed and halfway to heaven right now, so it comes off more desperate to please than anything. either way, you nod. “all you had to do was ask. you know that.”

you nod and pull him down to kiss you by the fingers you have twisted in his hair. he groans against you, moving his hand from your chin to your jaw, angling you just so. somewhere in the kiss, you murmur a soft, “seung, i want you,” and he groans a little, nodding against you. he pulls away and you chase after him, but he’s sitting up, moving lightning quick to get his boxers off, abandoned somewhere on the linoleum floor with everything else.

and then it hits you that you’re both completely bare. you lean back on your elbows, looking him over once more, though your focus lingers mostly on the skin newly revealed to you. his thighs are toned and sturdy, the skin plush, and while you’d love to stare at them a little bit more, your attention is quickly drawn to his dick. it’s big, the head an agitated red and leaking precum, and your mouth is watering at the thought of getting him in your position and giving him the best head of his life.

you actually start to move to do so, but heeseung anticipates it and moves quick, pressing you back into your mattress. his dark doe eyes are drowning in desire and you shudder under his gaze. he’s on you again instead, hips melded to yours in your nth kiss tonight. he’s got his weight rested on one elbow beside your head while his other arm is free to move around, his hand tracing from your shoulder, your chest, smoothing across your stomach. 

his fingers eventually land on your thigh, curling into the soft inner flesh, and he hikes it up around his waist before dropping his hand to his cock. his lips trail from your lips to your neck and shoulders, nipping at the skin as he jerks himself off. you toss your head back against your pillows, whimpering at every little graze of his teeth against your skin. 

but what’s really driving you crazy is the heat of him against you. the head of his cock bumps against your clit, this time with no fabric barrier separating them, and you’re not sure if heeseung is even meaning for the touch, but it has you feeling hot all over again, slick leaking out of you again. you’re getting impatient, heel pressing hard into his lower back and your fingernails biting into the flesh of his biceps.

“heeseung,” you whine out, canting your hips up against his; you hear him suck in a breath through clenched teeth, a hiss of air. “need you.”

he shivers against you, a teary whimper of “need you too” granted in return as he pulls his face from your neck so that he can watch you as he finally gets to what you’ve wanted since this whole thing started. on a short teasing streak, he taps the head of his cock against your clit and you whine, turning your head into your pillow and curling your fingers into his arms, which earns a laugh.

“stop playing,” you tell him, rolling your hips upwards and into him.

he hisses again and bites at his bottom lip, nodding. he slips from your clit to your entrance and even just the little shred of pressure you get has you wanting to moan out for him. but then he starts pressing in all the way, slipping into your cunt with ease and you are not prepared for just how full you feel. your back arches and he lets off a tempered moan, stifled through a lip bite. when he bottoms out, his hips flush with your own, you release a breath as you adjust to the size of him, which doesn’t take long.

“seung,” you drawl, grabbing his attention. “move please.”

and he does as you bid, pulling out before he thrusts back in. it takes a few moments for him to find a pace that works, but when he does, it’s perfect. his hips roll against yours delectably, the sounds of skin meeting skin and your shared moans filling the small dorm room. he’s shored up over you, one elbow pressed deep into the thin mattress holding him up, and when your eyes aren’t squeezed tight in ecstasy, you watch the way he bites his lip, furrows his eyebrows, shudders as you clench around him.

“god, you’re s’tight. feels so good,” he whimpers at one point, his head hanging over your own as he tries to keep a steady pace. his words are shattered, breaking off in the middle or slurred together, a verbal manifestation of how you physically feel.

one thrust hits that just right spot inside you and you can’t hold but moan loudly, back arching off the mattress and your head pressing into your pillows. heeseung inhales sharply above you as you clench tight around him and then, with you still keening, you feel him sit up, taking his warmth with him. his hands are on your hips seconds later and he’s angling you, doing everything in his power to replicate it again and again.

“fuck, i’ve wanted this for so long,” he says, one hand on your thigh and the other working deft fingers on your clit. he’s a quick learner it seems because all of it is coming together to whisk your orgasm closer, a wave of white heat washing over you. “saw you at my frat’s halloween party ‘nd thought you were so pretty. woulda come up t’you that night if i knew you felt this good.”

your breath hitches more than it has all night and you cant your hips upwards in an attempt to meet his thrusts. somewhere in the midst of your pleasure, you tell him you’re going to come and he nods fast, fingers going into overtime to get you there. that knot inside you winds up tight and then snaps like a rubber band stretched too thin, hot and fast. your pussy locks around his cock and then he’s there above you, bracing himself with his hand, to swallow the particularly sharp whine of his name you let out and any stray too-loud moans that might slip away and wake the neighbors (as if you haven’t already).

when your vision finally clears and your thighs stop trembling, his hips are still snapping into yours to seek his own release, pushing you into the territory of overstimulation, but any pain you have bleeds into pleasure until you can’t tell which is which; the only thoughts you can manage are that heeseung feels heavenly inside you that it’s almost blinding and you don’t know if you even really want him to stop. 

but his hips begin to stutter, his cock twitching against your fluttering walls, and you faintly register that he’s about to pull out of you. blindly, your hand searches for any part of him to pull him back over you, legs locking around his waist. he protests, some flurry of words about how he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable (not a single one intelligible), while you whine and pull him towards you by his shoulder.

“wanna feel you, seung,” you say, a limp arm winding around him and inching him closer until your noses are brushing and you can feel his breath fanning across you, still smelling faintly of his alcohol from earlier. “don’t worry about it, ‘kay? y’said you’d do anything, so please. i wanna feel you s’bad.”

that seems to be enough to egg him on because he nods and you catch him in a messy kiss before he groans against your lips as he finally comes. he lands a few more sharp thrusts that have you whining, fucking his cum into you, before he finally falls still. his breath is hot on your shoulder as he recovers.

usually, once you’re done, your select partner of the night pulls out, maybe cleans you up, and then leaves. it’s been a while since you’ve had someone who wants to stay (at least, you hope heeseung wants to stay) and you’re not quite sure where to go from here. there hadn’t really been much discussion about where your relationship was going to lead after this, even with all of the lingering glances on campus and your impromptu study sessions at the library, so you’re worrying a little about what comes after.

stuck in your own head, you don’t even notice that heeseung has pulled his head from your shoulder and is looking at you until his thumb works your bottom lip out from beneath your teeth and then wipes away some of the sweat at your hairline. the furrow of his eyebrows carve deep lines into the space between them as he studies you, looking like an angel with the way the fairy lights strung up above him give him a faint golden halo.

“what’re you thinking about?” he asks softly, brushing his fingers across your cheek. it’s a wholly different energy than just a few minutes ago, but the change isn’t unwelcome.

you shrug, blinking up at him and reaching to push some of his hair out of his eyes, the strands matted to his forehead with sweat. “just wondering what we do now, i guess.”

heeseung’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles a little, his shoulders shaking with a breathy little laugh. you almost punch at his shoulder for laughing at you when he cranes his head down to kiss you gently, the first that isn’t rushed in some way. he nudges your nose with his when he pulls back just a little bit.

“can we worry about all the big stuff later?” he questions; you feel the words as much as you hear them, his lips barely brushing your own as he says them. “for now, how about we clean up first and then… i’m hungry. are you?”

it’s your turn to laugh, but you nod. you’re still a little drunk, your however many cups of jungle juice compared to his measly one whiskey.

“so we clean up and then go get taco bell? it’s, like, the only fast food place still open at this hour.”

“you do know that the line is gonna be insane, right? like, half of campus goes there after getting drunk.”

heeseung lets another quiet laugh loose and sits up, pulling you up with him and then into his lap, his dick still snug inside you. the feel of it doesn’t wind you up again like you thought it might, but it’s a nice reminder that he’s here, that this all actually happened. he rests a hand on your thigh and lets his thumb trace lines into the skin there absently.

“then i guess we’ll have time to talk about what you wanna do now,” he says sincerely, the smile on his face soft.

you have so many words you want to say, a million sentences tornadoing in your head right now, all jumbled up and lacking any sense of coherency. so instead, you cup his cheeks in your hands and return the kiss from just a few moments ago. he meets you halfway, all soft and pliant and giving, everything you could have dreamed up.

“wanna shower?” you ask when you pull away, giggling when he chases after you for another kiss. “feel like it might be a little more effective than a rag.”

the boy raises an eyebrow and eyes you suspiciously. “you tryin’ to go for a round two? because that’s what it sounds like right now.”

you push at his shoulders and laugh when he catches your wrists in his hands, pulling you into a third kiss. “wasn’t my intention, but i won’t turn down the idea.”

“i’ll think about it,” he responds as he taps at your hips and lifts you off of him. his seed starts to leak out with his cock no longer there to hold it in and you feel incomplete without him, but when he stands and offers you a hand to help you out of bed, suddenly the feeling of emptiness isn’t as oppressive.

you teeter across your room, opening the wardrobe to pull out the two towels you have and your shower caddy. heeseung accepts the towel you extend to him graciously, wrapping it around his waist. when you’re done securing your own towel, he’s already waiting for you by the door, one hand on the knob and the other reaching out towards you once you get close enough to him. and then you’re two people walking down the hall hand in hand, wrapped in matching pink towels towards the unisex bathroom. it’s a little unconventional, maybe, but you don’t think you’d have it any other way.

liv probably would though, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. heeseung’s your little secret after all.

© hoshologies 2023. do not translate, copy, or repost my work on any site.

#heeseung x reader #lee heeseung smut #heeseung smut #enhypen smut #kpop smut #writing.fic #smut.fic #stories.fic #heeseung.fic #enha.fic

[here2bbtstrash]

the spins (explicit)

genre: smutttyyyyyy as hell (with like one angsty conversation about isolation as a trauma response, but said in much vaguer terms lol)

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: you discover a new side to your former lab partner, frat wonder boy jeon jungkook, when you confess to him the one thing no man has ever been able to make you do.

word count: 10.3k

contains: explicit sexual content AKA porn!!!!! alcohol, minor frat house shenanigans, reader is a total bitch but in a highkey relatable way, jungkook is The Only Good Frat Boy, mentions of shitty hookups/sexual dissatisfaction/faked orgasms, an **absurdly** lengthy and gratuitous cunnilingus scene, a lil bit of teasing/begging, spitting, LOUD sex, reader’s first partnered orgasms, also JK has a tongue piercing 👀

A/N: so writing this nearly killed me,,, lmao. i have two inspiration sources that i must credit- one is jai’s @gimmethatagustd INCREDIBLE fic paint me naked, which gave me the final shove i needed to topple over into JK hard stan land (listen he’s 3 years younger than me, i had a complex about it, it’s fine). seriously go give it a read and give her some love, i fully credit her with moving college!JK into my brain where he now lives rent-free.

the other source of inspiration is this insaaaaane imagine audio (WARNING, extremely NSFW and will literally ruin your life!!!!!) that hooked me on the idea that JK would be competitive about eating pussy and….. yep, smack those two things together and ta-da, this porn was born. godspeed and thanks as always for reading 💜

this is now (finally) on AO3!

~*~

You really don’t know why you came to this party. It’s so crowded, bodies pressed together, people screaming to be heard over the noise, or just because they’re white girl wasted. The music is terrible, the floor weirdly sticky, the container of jungle juice in the kitchen extremely suspicious. You opted for tequila instead, the last of which you now drain from the bottom of your red solo cup. The whole place smells like cheap beer, vape smoke, and frat boy cologne.

Yet another Jack Harlow song comes on over the bass-boosted speakers and you roll your eyes. That’s it. Time to go home and actually finish the psych paper you’re putting off.

You shove your way into the kitchen, trying to be the only upstanding citizen in this godforsaken frat house and actually put your trash in a trash can. You spot one in the corner– nearly overflowing, but still good enough, except that a whole circle of Brads and Chads block your path. You do your best to squeeze past them, but because they don’t do anything except live at the gym and snort protein powder, they might as well be a brick wall.

“Excuse me,” you try. Nothing.

“I need to get through,” you say with a gentle push. It’s like talking to a brick wall, too.

“Alright, fuck it.” You roll your eyes and decide to just fucking go for it. You’ve had enough liquor that you won’t feel the pain until tomorrow anyway.

The circle breaks apart in confusion, not a brain cell in sight, as you slam your way through. They part so quickly that your plan works too well, and the excess momentum shoots you forward. You stumble, losing your footing, already cringing because you’re about to faceplant on the nasty floor of this nasty frat house kitchen.

“Hey, whoa!” A voice way too close to your ear for comfort shouts, but then an arm snakes around your waist and saves you from your doom, gripping you tightly. “Careful!”

You glance up, wondering if this guy is going to try to turn the moment into some attempt at flirtation, the world’s worst meet cute, but then you see big round eyes staring back at you with legitimate concern. Oh, fuck. You know those Disney princess eyes. Your stomach drops.

“Whaaaaaaaat!” Holding you in one arm, an unopened 18-rack of beer hoisted up on his shoulder with the other, grinning like a kid in a candy store, is none other than frat wonder boy Jeon Jungkook.

Ah, shit. You knew he was in a frat, of course. He doesn’t shut up about it. But you didn’t know it was this one– well, actually, you don’t even know which frat house you’re in right now. Alpha Beta Omega? They’re all the same to you. You don’t really understand why they have factions anyway instead of all just living together, but that would probably be too gay.

“I didn’t know you partied!” Jungkook is still smiling a smile that takes up his whole face, clearly unable to believe that you’re standing here in his disgusting frat house kitchen in your leather jacket and your combat boots.

You huff a laugh as he slowly unloops his arm from around you, assessing to see if you’re stable enough to stay upright. You shoot him a look as if to say I’m fine, dumbass. Uncoordinated, not intoxicated. There’s a difference.

“I do not party,” you correct him. “Never once in my life have I partied. I merely come to the parties, stand on the edges and observe, get my free alcohol, and then depart. Like I’m doing right now.” You aim your solo cup at the trash can and miss by about a foot.

“You– hang on,” he pauses, turning back to offload the fresh case of beer onto the kitchen counter. There’s a clamor of excitement from the Brads and Chads as they crowd around to slap him on the back, shouting things like “okay, JK!” and “let’s fucking gooooo!”

You have to get out of here, you think to yourself, and then you watch Jungkook bring his tattooed hand up to rip the cardboard front of the case off effortlessly, and that is lowkey kind of hot.

Quiet, you tell your tequila brain. No lusting after frat boys. Not even the one you sat next to for an entire semester in bio lab, the one who was actually way smarter than anticipated and didn’t just use you for an easy A, who genuinely seemed like he cared about the way you answered “How was your weekend?” every time he asked, and who didn’t even say one problematic thing the whole semester.

Just because he’s the exemplary form of his species doesn’t make him not what he is, you remind yourself. Even the best frat boy is still a frat boy.

Jungkook returns as the rest of the bros swarm the counter and proceed to decimate the case of beer. That must have been the reason they were waiting here, at their proverbial watering hole, because they circle up and dissolve back into the party, several of them clapping Jungkook on the back again in thanks as they leave.

You realize he doesn’t have to yell to be heard anymore as he says, “You’re leaving already?”

“Yes, Jungkook,” you sigh. “I have a paper to write.”

He scrunches up his face, knowing he can’t argue with academic excellence. “It’s still early. What if you just have one more drink, and then go? I haven’t even gotten to enjoy the party yet. The pledges severely underestimated how much alcohol it takes to run this place.”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, I’m so terribly sorry that your child servants who literally give you money in exchange for friendship got something wrong.”

The words feel biting as they leave your mouth, and you honestly expect him to protest, but he only shrugs. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re right. The whole thing is stupid.” For a moment you wonder how on earth he’s immune, what it is about him that allows him to live in the cradle of toxic masculinity and still be so regular, so good.

“Will you stay?” He asks again. You try to purse your lips to hide your smile, but it doesn’t work, and then he’s smiling too.

“Fine.”

The kid literally fist pumps, and your laugh bubbles up before you can stop it. He gestures broadly to the kitchen counters which are a veritable nightmare of liquor bottles and beer cans. “What’ll it be? Don’t say the jungle juice,” he warns with a laugh.

You look at him like he’s gone entirely insane. “I would never say the jungle juice. Tequila, please.”

Jungkook moves fluidly, as if he’s imitating those ridiculous Las Vegas bartenders who do tricks while they pour your obscenely overpriced drink. He shakes a solo cup off the stack and throws it up, spinning on his heels and catching it in his other hand, and you’re laughing again because he’s such a fucking dork.

He crosses to open the freezer and scoops up some ice in your cup, then pours a healthy amount of tequila in. “And mixer?” He looks back at you over his shoulder.

You pause. “Uh, just ice is good.”

He puts the bottle down and turns to squint at you in disbelief. “You drink straight tequila and you’re telling me you don’t party?”

You falter, a little flustered. “I don’t know. It’s not like I’m drinking it for the taste, you know?”

“Can I show you what you’re missing out on?” He asks, and you don’t know why the question makes you swallow hard. “Seriously.” He picks the bottle of tequila back up, eyeing the brand with distaste. “This stuff is… not great.”

Your instinct is to joke about him slipping something in your drink, but you bite the words back– because first of all, not funny. But you also genuinely don’t think he would ever do something like that, and you don’t want to give off the impression that you do.

“Alright,” you say instead, lifting your hands in surrender.

He opens the fridge door and crouches down, digging around through what you can only imagine is a Costco-sized amount of egg cartons and packages of chicken breasts. Finding what he’s looking for, he pulls away with a carton that’s been Sharpie’d to death, “JK ONLY DO NOT DRINK” on all sides. It’s really every bro for himself out here, you think.

“Grapefruit okay?” Jungkook double-checks, and you give a shrug and a nod. He pours a little, inspects the cup, then adds a splash more. “It’s not too sweet.”

He passes the cup off to you and returns his juice to the fridge, shuts the door, then seems to realize he forgot to make himself a drink and repeats the entire process again, spinning in a full circle which has you hiding your giggle in the rim of your cup. Once he’s made himself a matching drink to yours, he leans against the counter and takes a sip, surveying you.

You mirror him– the drink is admittedly a lot better than straight bottom-shelf, and you like how the sour taste lingers on the back of your tongue.

“Thank you,” you remember to say after a few sips, and he waves it off as if to say it’s no big deal.

“So, why are you here? Observing us in our natural habitat?” He puts on a voice for the last part, in a clear imitation of you, and you smirk. It does sound like something you would say.

“I’m an agent of chaos,” you say and he gives you a look like he’s waiting for the real answer. You choose that moment to take a long swallow of your drink, buying time. He continues to wait patiently, so you finally just shrug and make a face. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to do my paper. I saw a thing for it on insta. And I was tired of rotting away in my dorm room.”

He nods thoughtfully. “I tried inviting you to stuff when we were lab partners.” You wonder if the tequila is making you imagine that he sounds a little hurt. “You never seemed into it.”

At that, you laugh, because he’s being kind. Jungkook did invite you regularly to whatever mixers or ragers his frat was planning, and every time you would tell him no, directly to his face, like the bitch that you are. You eventually started trying to come up with as many creative ways to phrase it as you could: no, nope, never, not in a million years, when hell freezes over. He took them all like a champ, and that was one of the first things you remember liking about him. A frat boy who can respect when someone says no and not try to push it– now that is a rarity.

You want to apologize, but you really have no explanation for what makes tonight any different, at least not one you can say eloquently. How do you tell him you’re fucking sick of staring at the walls, feeling like “the best years of your life” are passing you by and leaving you with nothing to show for it? That you’ve painted sarcasm and an “I don’t give a fuck” attitude over your life for so long that now it feels like you’re backed into a corner where you can’t give a shit about anybody because there’s nobody left to give a shit about? So you were neck deep in insta stories on a Friday night like a fucking loser, and you saw a stupid post about a stupid frat party by some girl you swore was going to be your bestie the first week of freshman year who you promptly never spoke to again, and something in you snapped and said, “fuck it”?

Oof, tequila coming in strong, you think to yourself. You decide to spare Jungkook the emotional word vomit.

He keeps going when you don’t respond. “I just figured you had better things to do. Like ride motorcycles, or be in a mosh pit.”

You roll your eyes. “Motorcycles are giant metal death traps. Hard pass. And I don’t like getting punched in the face by nazis, so I don’t mosh.” You take a sip of your drink and size him up. “You’re one to talk, little alt boy.”

He’s playing with his lip ring when you say it, and the blush that creeps up his neck is honestly cute. Thoroughly unfazed by your words, he rolls up the right sleeve of his eyesore of a button down until his arm is fully exposed. “Check it out! Finally filled in the shoulder piece.”

You step closer to admire the fresh ink. Jungkook’s sleeve is, admittedly, really fucking cool. You still remember the first time you saw it in bio lab. It was the first day where the temperature crept up to an actual tolerable degree after what felt like a winter that would never end. You’d only known him in hoodies up to that point, so when he rolled into class that day in a baggy t-shirt and you saw the hint of lettering and shading peeking out from under his sleeve, your jaw nearly hit the floor.

“It’s rude to stare,” he’d said with a soft laugh and a cheeky-ass wink.

You wonder now if maybe you stepped too close, because you can feel the heat radiating off of his body. He holds his arm up for you, rotating it to show off the whole thing. Throughout the rest of the semester, you’d watched as he slowly started to fill in the blank spaces, but now it’s even more cohesive; he’s nearly finished it in the time since you last got a good look.

“Just need something on my wrist. And I might do the back of my hand. I haven’t decided.” He squeezes his hand into a fist and flexes with a put-on grunt, and you laugh even as the swell of his bicep makes your heart jump in your chest.

Emboldened by how close you are to him, and also the tequila, you trace your finger along the words that wrap across his forearm– rather be dead than cool. “That one’s my favorite,” you say softly.

When you glance up, he’s already looking at you, and now your heart’s in your throat. “I swear this thing’s the only reason you like me,” he says, the non-pierced corner of his mouth crooking up in a barely-there smile.

You open your mouth to protest when the kitchen is suddenly alive with noise as a mass of bodies crash through the doorway. A girl in a minidress that has ridden dangerously far up her thighs is nearly carried in by two of her friends, with several more trailing in right at their heels, and her name must be Hannah because they all say it about a thousand times in six seconds. A couple of dudebros shuffle in behind them, shouting for everyone to step back and give her space.

Nowhere else to go, you’re forced that much closer to Jungkook as far too many people try to squeeze into the tiny kitchen. You’ve basically got him pinned against the counter, and you look away, then look back, extremely uncomfortable.

“Sorry,” you mouth, and he shakes his head like it’s not a big deal.

He does smell really good, you realize now that he’s this close. Not like he took a bath in Axe body spray or Drakkar Noir, as most of his frat bros do, just… warm and clean, with a hint of the good kind of boy musk, salt and skin. It’s a welcome distraction from the unbridled chaos of Hannah and her entourage.

“She’s gonna be sick,” someone warns, and you wince in preparation.

“Hannah, aim for the sink!” Another girl coaxes. You turn over your shoulder and watch as Hannah takes a few steps forward, legs quivering like a baby deer, then does a last-second pivot and vomits directly into the jungle juice.

“Oh, party foul!” One of the bros yells.

You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head, and then Jungkook’s breath is ghosting over your neck and you can’t think about anything else. “Do you want to go to my room?” His voice is low, his lips inches from your ear.

You look up at him over the rim of your cup. “Yes, please.”

It’s only once you start walking that your mind is able to process what’s happening, and the panic sets in. Jeon Jungkook is guiding you through his packed frat house, his hand on the small of your back. Of course the crowds part for you like the fucking red sea, no throwing elbows required, because everybody loves him.

His bros greet him as he passes, “‘sup JK!”, and you try to avoid eye contact. You wonder how regularly they see this, him leading some wide-eyed girl up to his room to do what frat boys do best. Your stomach twists as you wonder what his expectations are, and what the fuck it is that you’ve just agreed to by saying yes.

You climb the stairs, his hand still pressed to your back, and he leads you to the first room on the left when you reach the top. When he opens the door and motions for you to step through, you’re surprised.

For one, it doesn’t reek of weed. It just smells like he does, but stronger, with a hint of fresh laundry. His bed isn’t made, but there are also no questionable stains on the black sheets, and he has four pillows and a bed frame, not just a mattress and box spring on the ground with one sad rectangle. There are some cups on the nightstand, but no ash tray overflowing with burnt out ends of blunts, no empty beer cans, and you can actually see the floor.

Not bad, you think to yourself, and then the anxiety presses in again as he shuts the door behind you. Nope. You are absolutely not doing this.

“Sorry about that,” he says with a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “These things get really crazy around finals season. I guess people need an escape in the form of mild alcohol poisoning.”

You cross your arms, unable to continue the polite conversation. “Look, I don’t know what you think is going to happen in here, but it’s not going to happen, okay?”

He steps back, his brow instantly furrowing. “Wait, what? Are you mad at me right now? I just figured you’d want to get out of the kitchen, since a girl was actively puking.”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” you say, not buying it.

“I-I’m not.” Jungkook seems genuinely flustered, enough that you realize he’s probably not acting. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he starts, and then he sighs, like he’s correcting himself. “But, I guess my intentions really don’t matter, because it seems like I did. So I’m sorry.”

You squint at him, wondering who the fuck taught this boy how to apologize so damn well. This is the first time you’ve ever heard a frat boy say “sorry” without it being immediately followed by “but” and then something so offensive that it negates the entire thing.

He waits for you to respond, then gestures to the door. “If you want to go, you can go. I just wanted to talk to you. I haven’t seen you at all since last semester, and I’m really glad you came out.”

The thought of going back downstairs is slightly more anxiety-inducing than staying in this room. At least here it’s quiet, and it smells nice, and he apparently is not actually trying to get into your pants. It really does seem like you read him wrong, you admit to yourself, and then you unceremoniously plop down on his carpet.

Jungkook doesn’t even try to hide the big smile on his face as he joins you on the floor, and you both lean back against the foot of his bed. He slips his feet out of his slides and you lean forward to pull your boots off.

“Like I said, I’ve been rotting away in my dorm room,” you remind him with a dry laugh.

“You should’ve texted me. I would’ve come rot with you.”

His words make you smile a little, but you’re still suspicious. “Uh-huh,” you intone as he takes another sip of his drink. “And what would we have done, Jungkook?” The question nearly makes you cringe; it’s like reading a bad sext out loud. You don’t know why you keep pushing him on this.

Maybe, a tiny part of your tequila brain whispers to you, you’re goading him so hard into saying that he wants to hook up because for a split second back there in the kitchen, you realized that’s what you want. But you’re a hyper-independent bitch who can’t ever admit to needing anything from anybody, so you need him to say it first.

You grit your teeth and give your head a nearly imperceptible shake, trying to shut that brain cell up.

“I don’t know,” he says with a shrug, like he really doesn’t. “Play video games?” He gestures to a Nintendo 64 in the corner of his room, hooked up to a large TV that’s mounted on the wall.

It’s certainly not the answer you expected, but you don’t hate it. You raise an eyebrow as if to challenge him. “Well, I will kick your ass in Mario Kart.”

He sucks gently on his lip ring as he looks you over, and there’s a glint in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. You’ve clearly tapped into something. “Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“Then prove it.”

Dropping out of shit-talk mode for a second, Jungkook gives a laugh that almost sounds embarrassed. “I should warn you, I get pretty competitive.”

You refuse to back down. “Better work on your gracious losing face, then.”

In acceptance of your challenge, you watch as he sorts through the bin of cartridges next to the console until he finds the one he’s looking for. He brings it up to his mouth and blows on it, some strange gamer ritual you’ve seen before but have never understood, and a shiver runs through you.

“Here,” he says, tossing you a dark blue controller, letting the cord unravel and plugging it into the port. “You can even use my favorite.” You take it in your hands and smile when you see the yellow Pokémon logo stamped across the center.

“You’re going to regret that when I beat you with it,” you retort, shrugging out of your jacket for optimum mobility. He’s grinning as he settles back next to you and the menu music starts up.

It turns out you’re pretty evenly matched in the Mario Kart skills department. You sail past him on the first course, easily finishing in first, but get entirely wrecked by a blue shell in course two and he’s able to clinch it no problem.

You would’ve expected more shit-talking based on his warning, but instead he’s just so focused, eyes wide, mouth wiggling his lip ring back and forth. It’s a little endearing. A lot endearing, really. You keep sneaking glances over at him as you start up the third and final course, wondering why he has to be so goddamn cute, why you’re incapable of finding a single flaw in him no matter how hard you try.

Forcing yourself to focus, you return your attention back to the screen, only to see that he has flown right by you and is far ahead in the lead. Oh, this simply will not do, you think to yourself, and then an item box hands you a perfectly-timed golden mushroom, and you see your path to victory.

You drift around the sharp corners, giving yourself a speed boost each time, and it’s just enough. “Get fucked,” you say with a giggle as Princess Peach cruises her way past Bowser into first place. You use the last few seconds of your mushroom power to put a solid amount of distance between your characters. There’s less than half a lap left, and absolutely nothing he can do to deny you of your win.

Or so you think, until he reaches over and drags his hand across your controller, forcing your joystick in the opposite direction and causing Peach to start driving in circles on the screen.

“What the fuck!” You scream, trying to smack his hand away, but he closes one of your hands in his and forces that down on the joystick, making your car go fully backwards. “You fucking cheater!”

“You’re the cheater,” he grunts, which doesn’t even make any sense, but pisses you off enough to reach for his controller to mimic his strategy. However, you fail to account for his evolutionary advantage of having longer arms than you; he’s easily able to scoot away while keeping his hand pressed down on your own. You see in the game that he’s inches away from overtaking you now, the fingers of his other hand stretching to work joystick and button at once.

“No!” You cry out in frustration, desperately trying to wriggle your hand free. You can’t just sit here and watch him steal this out from under you, so you dive hard to one side and yank the controller away at the same time.

It’s only a little too late that you realize you have once again made an uncoordinated lunge and ended up with far too much leftover momentum. He does not relent, and you underestimated the severity of his grip on your hand because when you fall over he comes with you, both of you toppling onto the carpet as the controller flies out of your grasp.

You end up flat on your back, and his reflexes are only barely fast enough to respond, his hands bracing the floor on either side of your head so he can avoid landing on top of you.

But that’s even worse, because now Jungkook is hovering over you, and you’re both breathing heavy, and his hair is falling in his eyes, and you don’t even know how but his thigh has managed to end up pressed between your legs.

For a moment, you don’t move or say anything, and neither does he. You just stay like that, staring at each other. Your eyes drop to his mouth, and then he cracks a smug grin.

“I told you I don’t like to lose.”

Your stomach flips as your panic rears back in full force, and you meet his gaze again. “Am I still supposed to believe you didn’t bring me up here to hook up?” Your voice is barely more than a whisper.

The smile drops off his face as his eyes search yours. “What do you want?” He asks, and you can hear the exasperation in his voice. “Because you’re the one who keeps talking about it.”

You falter, unable to come up with any witty retort because you know he’s right. Jungkook moves away from you and you sit up with a sigh. He scoots back a few more inches, giving you plenty of space, and reaches for the remote to mute the TV.

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” you say, your voice still soft. You can’t look at him, so you stare at the carpet instead. “That’s just alcohol and adolescent sex drive talking. It’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?” He doesn’t sound mad, but confused, like he wants to understand your thought process. Good fucking luck, you think to yourself.

You give him a look. “Because I’m not an idiot. Hooking up with a frat boy in his frat house is never a good idea.”

The way his face falls makes you feel like the biggest bitch on planet earth, and you desperately wish you could shove the words back in your mouth, that you were capable of shutting up for once in your goddamn life.

“Is that really how you see me?”

Of course it’s not. You know it’s not, and you hope he knows it too, despite your inability to ever actually say what you fucking mean. But you can’t stop yourself. The defense mechanism is fully engaged now.

“Jungkook, you are literally a frat boy. We are literally in a frat house. This is not a perception character judgment thing. It’s an objective facts of reality thing.”

He fixes you in his gaze, saying nothing, then sighs. “Why do you do that?”

Your heart sinks. “Do what?”

He shakes his head, worrying at his lip ring again, clearly a nervous habit. “I don’t know, it’s like… Sometimes I think you like me, but then you always throw a wall up at the last second. I just wish I knew why.”

That makes two of us, you think bitterly, but your heart is simultaneously cracking apart at how vulnerable he’s being with no hesitation. You’re almost jealous that he can just move through life like this, open and honest, so unafraid.

“I do like you,” you admit, and you open your mouth to add the qualifier, to put the wall up, but he speaks first.

“I like you, too. I’ve liked you for a long time.” This kid is going to be the death of you. “I’m not just looking to score, or whatever."

You pull your knees to your chest, crossing your arms over them, trying to shrink until you no longer exist. You start to shake your head. “Jungkook, I don’t–”

“See,” he cuts you off, “you’re doing it right now.” You groan and bury your face in your arms. “What is that? We like each other, why can’t that be enough?”

The question hangs heavy, because you know there’s no good answer.

Finally, you look up at him and sigh. “Because,” you start decisively. “You’re… you. And I’m me.” You gesture between the two of you. “We’re from different worlds.”

His face scrunches up a little, and it’s his turn to shake his head slowly. “I really don’t think we are. I think you’re just telling yourself that.” You can see he’s getting frustrated and you don’t fucking blame him. “And I don’t get how you can complain about sitting by yourself in your dorm room, but then keep blocking everyone out so that you’re always alone.”

“I like being alone!” The lie comes out reflexively before you can even think to stop it. You’ve said it so many times at this point that it almost feels true. “Alone is best.” You pause, and for a second you really wonder if you’re going to cry right now, on the floor of Jeon Jungkook’s bedroom, in his stupid frat house. “You can’t get hurt, or disappointed, or left behind if you’re alone,” you conclude. There it is. The truth, kind of.

“I wouldn’t do any of those things to you,” he says softly.

You just stare at him for a moment. The promise is too good to be true. It always is. “You can’t know that.”

He pauses, then nods once, staring back at you. “You’re right. But I don’t want to do those things. And I would try really hard not to. I just want to make you feel good. Whatever that looks like.”

You can’t help where your stupid tequila brain immediately takes the idea, and you let out a dry laugh. “Well, if that’s what you’re after, there’s really no chance.”

His brows pinch together, clearly not understanding. “What does that mean?”

“Many have tried, none have succeeded,” you say with a roll of your eyes, stretching your legs back out. “I am a puzzle that no man can solve.”

The realization slowly dawns on him, and his eyes widen. “Wait, are you saying you’ve never had a–”

You wave a hand in the air as if to shush him, and you cut him off. “Stop. Don’t be dramatic. I’ve had plenty of orgasms, courtesy of my vibrator and my showerhead.” Your face is a little hot from talking about this in front of him. “Just… only alone. The running theme here, apparently.”

He tilts his head, processing this new information. “So do you fake it?” You tell yourself you’re just imagining that he sounds a little upset.

You grimace. “With my high school boyfriend, yeah. He was my first everything, and we were so young. I was too embarrassed to say it, so I just let him believe he had a magical dick that brought me to orgasm at the exact same time as him every time.”

Jungkook huffs a laugh of disbelief.

“And after that,” you continue, looking down in embarrassment, “I don’t know, it’s pretty much just been hookups, and most usually don’t bother to ask. Some have tried for a while, and then given up…” The memories make you cringe. “It’s just uncomfortable. Hence the alone thing.” You give a half shrug. “It’s okay. My vibrator is nice.”

He says nothing, and you mentally kick yourself for oversharing. This is why the wall goes up, you think, but when you look at him, he’s already looking at you, and not in the way you expected.

In fact, you’re surprised to see that glint in his eyes again. He licks his lips, and you realize your pulse is racing.

“The way I see it,” he begins slowly, his voice low and even, “we have two options.” You raise an eyebrow, your interest piqued, and he continues. “Option one. You let me know, for real, that you’re not interested. You don’t have to tell me why, but you do have to mean it. And I’ll leave you alone, and you can go home and write your paper.”

Your mouth goes dry as you try to prepare for what might come next.

“Or, option two.” You swear his eyes darken as he says it. “You admit to me that you like me, and that you want me. And you let me take care of you. Which includes keeping you in my bed for as long as it takes me to make you come. I don’t care if it takes hours. I’ve got hours.”

He shrugs like he hasn’t just said the most devastating thing you’ve ever heard. “We can figure out the rest after. It doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to be. But it’s your call. I won’t be mad, whatever you choose. I just need to know.” He leans back on his hands, awaiting your choice.

“Jungkook,” you breathe. “You don’t know how tempting that offer is.” You try to say more, but he’s faster.

“Then say yes.”

You want to scream at him that it’s not that simple, that letting people all the way in is a door you slammed shut long ago, never to be opened again. But despite your best attempts, this cheeky, dorky, pierced and tattooed frat wonder boy has managed to wedge that door back open, just an inch. And it’s enough that now you can’t help but wonder what’s on the other side.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe it really can be that simple with him. Maybe safe doesn’t always have to mean alone. Isn’t that why you came to this party in the first place?

You let out a slow exhale, and then for the first time in your life, you decide to get out of your own way.

“Okay,” you say, and you have to work to keep your voice from shaking. “Yes. But,” you quickly add before he has a chance to react, “I don’t want this to turn into a big thing if…” you trail off. “You know. If I can’t.”

“Oh, I’m not worried about that.” He says with a self-assured smile, and you hate that it’s so hot. “I have a secret weapon.”

And then he opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out, and the end of a silver barbell winks at you.

Your jaw drops. “I’m sorry, you have a tongue piercing?!”

He smirks. “Got it a couple months ago. It’s fully healed now, so you get to be my maiden voyage.” You cringe and he laughs self-consciously. “Sorry, that sounded cooler in my head.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re laughing too as his hands reach for your ankles. He gently starts to pull you towards him and you cross your legs, scooting the rest of the way forward until your knees are touching his.

“Can I please kiss you now?” Jungkook asks, but you take his face in your hands and beat him to it.

Given his competitive streak, a part of you had expected everything about this to be rough and hard, but the way he kisses you is so gentle, it’s romantic. You’d forgotten what it’s like to be kissed like this, intimate and slow, not just a tongue shoved down your throat. Jungkook is continuing to prove to you what he already has time and time again: he is nothing like any man you’ve ever met.

You are really curious about that piercing, though, so you tilt your head and tentatively lick into his mouth. When you bump against the metal post he whines a little, and goddamn, you need to be in his bed right fucking now.

He must have the same thought because his hands run firmly over your hips and you both maneuver to your feet without breaking apart. You let him guide you backwards until your knees hit the end of the bed, and you sit down and gaze up at him, breathless from his kisses.

You’re a little nervous, you realize, but then you see the way he’s looking at you. “God, you are so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, and your face flushes.

Jungkook ducks his head to kiss you again, moving you to lay down, and his hand finds the small of your back beneath you. You can’t help but smile when he uses the arm wrapped around you to effortlessly lift you up and scoot you backwards to the head of the bed. You lean against the pillows as his tongue returns to your mouth.

His fingers start to play gently at the hem of your shirt as if asking a question. You nod and he pushes it up, your lips breaking apart only for as long as it takes to pull it over your head before finding each other again.

You reach to do the same for him, but he makes an “uh-uh” noise into your mouth, then pulls away. “I want this to be about you.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Jungkook, that is incredibly sweet, and it can absolutely be about me. But I think you will severely hurt your chances of bringing me to orgasm if you’re wearing that creamsicle nightmare shirt while you’re doing it."

He raises his eyebrows for a split second like he’s weighing whether or not he should accept that challenge, but then he shrugs with a grin and pulls his shirt off over his head. His body is ridiculous, lithe and toned, and he inhales sharply when you run your hands up his chest.

You realize now, as he unhooks your bra and tosses it off the edge of the bed, then starts to kiss down your jaw, that Jungkook is vocal. He makes these breathy little sighs against your skin as he goes, and when you do something like scratch your nails over his back or dip your head to trace your tongue along his neck, he outright moans. The low, raw sound makes your pussy throb.

Noise during sex has always been weird for you; you felt like guys expected you to be loud, which is hard to do convincingly when you’re nowhere near satisfied. But none of the sounds he’s making now seem in any way performative. You can tell it’s just him enjoying your shared pleasure the same way he does everything– unashamedly.

So when he sucks gently at the place where your neck and shoulder meet, lightly running his piercing over the sensitive skin there, your eyes flutter closed, and you don’t hold back the noise he pulls out of you.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you breathe, and you feel him smile.

You’re overwhelmed by all the different sensations his mouth can make against your skin. He kisses, licks, drags his tongue ring, and bites along your neck and your collarbones, working you until you couldn’t keep quiet even if you wanted to. His hands slide up your waist, coming to cup your breasts, and he tries similar experiments with his thumbs over your nipples: barely-there tapping, then firmer pressure in slow circles, then light pinches that make you gasp and writhe.

He’s clearly educating himself, paying close attention to your responses to figure out the best ways to touch you and take you apart. No one has ever cared this much about what actually felt good to you before; this is a far cry from the half-hearted two minutes of foreplay you’re accustomed to. He really does act like he’s got all the time in the world.

The thought of him touching and kissing you like this for hours is dizzying. Even if he can’t make you come, you don’t fucking care, everything he’s doing still feels incredible. It’s a hell of a lot better than writing a paper.

Jungkook groans into your skin as he mouths down to your breasts, and when he shifts, you can feel his erection grind against your thigh. The knowledge that he’s just as turned on by this as you are, paired with a deft flick of his piercing over your nipple, makes you whine loudly. Your core is already aching to be touched, licked, fucked– anything.

He reaches to unbutton your pants while his lips and tongue still work at the bud of your breast in his mouth. Your hips lift up at his touch and he pulls your jeans down, dropping your nipple from between his teeth so you can kick them the rest of the way off.

His hands slip under the band of your panties with a grunt so heady it’s nearly a growl, but instead of pulling them down, he loops the fabric around his fingers once and pulls up, so the lace is pressed tight against your dripping cunt. Even that small amount of friction makes you whimper, your hips rocking in desperate search of relief.

“Can I take these off?” He pairs the question with another firm tug, so the lace rubs right over your clit as your hips circle.

You don’t even have the breath to answer, you want it so bad; you can only nod.

He pulls your panties off, tossing them to join the rest of your clothes on the floor before moving down between your spread legs. You’re so wet for him now that just his breath on your core is enough to make you moan.

You brush his hair off his forehead and watch as he brings his mouth to your thighs, trailing lips and teeth upwards. With each pass, he comes so close to where you want him, where you need him, but deliberately stops just shy, teasing you. He runs his tongue along the crease where your hip and thigh meet, and the drag of his piercing on your skin makes you cry out, delirious with anticipation.

But then his mouth goes in the wrong direction. Rather than close the small amount of distance left to finally, finally make contact with your cunt, he shifts away from it. His lips and tongue trail back over your hips, your stomach, and up the valley between your breasts. You lift your head in disbelief to watch him, and you don’t think you’re going to make it– you’ve never been denied pleasure like this before. Your eyes start to sting like they might well up with tears.

He keeps going, lips moving from your neck to your jaw and then finally back to your mouth. You turn your head to the side, your breathing ragged.

“Jungkook,” you nearly sob, “please.”

His voice is hoarse when he murmurs in your ear with a dark laugh, “I was wondering how long it would take you to beg for it. You really held out on me.” He kisses you again and you whine in frustration as he sucks on your bottom lip. He pulls away with a smile. “Talk to me. Tell me what you need.”

Your head swims; you try to form words through your desperation. “I– fuck, anything, anything. Please, Jungkook, please.” You sound so wrecked, so needy, but if he wants you to beg, you’ll do it, gladly. You’re going to die if he doesn’t touch you soon. Your hips shudder up against his, your nails dragging down his back.

“Good girl, love it when you say my name like that,” he groans into the crook of your neck, and your pussy clenches around nothing, your brain short-circuiting at the praise.

He doesn’t drag it out any longer– you don’t think you’d survive if he did– and instead just shifts to settle back between your legs. His hands come to your thighs and you’re so keyed up that you jump under his touch as he spreads you wide open. You’re nearly clawing at the bedsheets in preparation to finally feel him after so long, but instead of his fingers or his tongue, something wet hits your clit.

It takes a second for your brain to process that he spit on you. Fuck.

You look up to see him looking at you, wide-eyed, like he’s only just realized what he did. “Sorry, I should’ve asked first. Was that okay?”

It was fucking hot, actually, but you’re so far gone that you can’t make the words happen. You can only nod and roll your hips up toward him.

“Jungkook, please,” you manage to whimper one final time, and he dips his head to press a kiss to your inner thigh.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs against your skin, “I’ve got you.” And then he closes his lips around your clit.

“Oh my fucking god,” you moan, relief flooding through you like a shot in the arm. His movements aren’t that different from how he first kissed you, gentle and sweet, and your clit throbs when his lip ring rolls over it.

Jungkook’s mouth falls into a steady rhythm, and he’s groaning against your pussy like it feels good for him, too. Enthusiastic is the only way to describe the way he eats you out; you really do believe he could do this all day.

Alternating with the movement of his lips, he starts to incorporate long, slow licks of his tongue across your folds. There’s enough spit and slickness that his piercing slides right over your clit, and it’s a sensation like nothing you’ve ever felt before that has you bucking against his mouth. He whines mid-lick when you do, and the vibration rips through you, your back arching in response.

That earns you two of his fingers slipped into your cunt, and for the second time tonight, you think you might die. Your legs start to shake as his fingers curl inside you.

“Yes, yes, oh fuck,” you groan. You don’t recognize your own voice; you’ve never made noise like this before, but nothing’s ever felt this good. You’re coming undone in his hands, under his tongue.

He changes up the rhythm on your clit, moving between fluidly swirling his piercing over it and pulling it into his mouth for hard suction. The pleasure is still overwhelming, but something about the switch-up takes you out of your body and into your head, and you falter for a moment.

He’s been at this for a while, and he does seem to be enjoying himself, but even so, you start to feel self-conscious. Are you taking too long? Is his tongue getting tired? What if you still can’t come from this?

Your momentary silence and lack of movement must be enough to send Jungkook’s competitive edge into overdrive, because he grabs your thigh with his free hand as if to pull you even closer and fully buries his face in your cunt.

He flattens his tongue against you and starts to shake his head aggressively, wiggling his tongue with it, and the barbell tapping rhythmically at your clit has you gasping for air and grabbing at the bedsheets.

As if that wasn’t enough, he adds a third finger inside you, slowing down for just a moment to make sure you’re accustomed to the stretch. He runs his free hand up your thigh and lays it flat below your stomach, pressing down firmly on your lower abdomen. You don’t know what to expect– no one’s ever done it to you before, but when he resumes rocking his fingers back and forth against your front wall under that extra pressure, you nearly drench his hand in arousal, it feels so good.

“Fuck, Jungkook, fuck!” You moan, and you wonder if the whole party downstairs can hear. You sound like a goddamn pornstar, the kind of noises that are so ridiculous you’d think they were fake if you weren’t experiencing the insane, all-encompassing pleasure yourself firsthand. Here, in Jungkook’s bed, in his fucking frat house, getting eaten out like you’re his last fucking meal.

You can’t even remember what you were worrying about now. There’s no space left in your brain for it, and your pussy is already starting to flutter around his fingers as you feel the pressure building in your core.

Out of sheer desperation, you wind a hand through his hair and lift your hips up against his mouth, matching his rhythm. He looks up at you and moans around your clit, nodding his head, clearly trying to encourage you without letting his tempo slow.

His breathing is ragged and loud as you grip his hair and rock your hips, bumping your clit against his pierced tongue again and again and again, exactly the way you need it.

Your moans increase in pitch and pace as you feel your orgasm crest. He responds back in time, encouraging you, his voice coming from some raw, primal place as he grunts open-mouthed, “uh-huh, uh-huh” against your clit, and you can hear his fingers working your cunt so well, and it’s all too fucking much.

You come so hard, it makes you question if you’ve ever actually had an orgasm before. Hands gripping at the sheets, toes curling, legs shaking violently, back arching up off the mattress, all with a loud moan that’s more like a sob. You have never in your life felt anything this good.

Jungkook slows but doesn’t stop as the aftershocks roll through you, slowly moving his head up and down to lick flat, long stripes over your clit as you continue to shudder against his face. Your thighs pull together reflexively when you become too sensitive, and that’s when he finally relents, pulling off and out of you.

You stare up at the ceiling, trying to remember how to breathe and wondering if you really did die after all. There’s a loud bang on the door, but you’re too blissed out to even give a fuck, and it’s just one of his frat bros yelling “alright, JK!” from the other side.

At least they’re supportive of a woman’s pleasure, you think, and then you can’t help but laugh at the sheer insanity of it all. Jungkook slides up the bed to lay next to you, and he’s smiling as he wipes his face with his hand.

“I guess you didn’t fake that one, huh?”

You can only shake your head as you struggle to get your breath back.

“Holy shit, I feel like I should say thank you,” you eventually manage, and he laughs his perfect laugh. You roll over to bury your face in his shoulder. “What the fuck, Jungkook– I think I saw my life flash before my eyes. That was fucking crazy.”

Jungkook flips onto his side facing you, propped up on one arm, his other hand gently running back and forth along the curve of your waist. “What can I say? I play to win.” He can’t hide his satisfied smile as the official winner of your first ever non-solo orgasm.

You lean against him, allowing your eyes to close again as your pulse slows, and you sigh contentedly as he presses his lips to your hairline.

“What time is it?” He asks after a few minutes. “Do you need to go write your paper?”

You tilt back to shoot him a death glare. “Do not mention my fucking paper right now, Jeon Jungkook. I’m trying to bask in the glow here.”

He laughs again and pulls you closer. “My bad.”

“And besides,” your face softens, and your eyes trace down to his hand that’s now gently palming over the front of his pants, where you can see the bulge of his erection. “I believe you promised me hours.”

He raises his eyebrows slightly. “Oh, I’ll give you hours.”

Your pussy doesn’t feel anywhere near recovered, but you’re somehow also aching for him to fuck you. If that was only his head game, you genuinely don’t think you’ll survive sex with Jungkook. But you’re willing to die trying.

“Come here,” his voice returns to that near-growl and he crawls over you, one hand cupping your jaw as he brings his lips to yours.

This time when his thigh presses between your legs, it’s on purpose. Your clit still twitches at the contact, but the pressure is indirect enough that it only feels good, and you rock your hips slowly into him.

You’re desperate to see him, touch him, return the favor, and your hand slips between your bodies to grab him through his pants. You whine against his lips when you feel how thick he is in your hand, and you pull little gasps out of him as you slowly start to pump him over the fabric.

“Please fuck me, Jungkook,” you whisper when you break apart, begging for it the way you’ve learned he likes, your hand still working him.

He bites down hard on your neck with a laugh, like he can’t believe you’re real.

You start to unbutton and push down his pants and then he flips onto his back to do the rest, shedding pants and boxers at the same time. You can’t help but giggle a little at his apparent urgency, pleased that he needs you just as bad, as he yanks his nightstand drawer out, retrieves a condom, and rips it open with his teeth.

But that urgency is gone once he’s hovering over you, cock teasing at your entrance, your knees bent and legs spread for him. It’s replaced by that same look in his eyes, those same gentle kisses, and arousal pooling in your belly at the realization that he really could do this for hours. But you need him now.

“Please,” you whisper one more time, and he groans against your throat as he pushes into you.

His pace is slow, hips rolling fluidly, and you’re still so sensitive that your walls flutter around him with each thrust. The thickness of his cock feels just as good as you thought it would. You moan loudly, arching back against the pillow, as his head drags over your sweet spot.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he groans, his voice ragged. He keeps rolling his hips, stroking so slow and deep that it’s pleasure and torture all in one. 

Jungkook must be a fast learner, because when he thrusts into you one more time and you whine in response, the same strangled noise you made when he teased your cunt, he knows what you need. You don’t even have to beg for it.

His hands slide along the backs of your thighs and he pushes, just a little, folding your legs up so your pelvis tilts to give him full access to your cunt. And then he picks up the pace.

The pleasure is overwhelming as he bottoms out inside you over and over, and you’re already close to the edge of a second climax. You rake your nails down his back and his hips move even faster, both of you moaning with every thrust. The sound of skin on skin is so loud it’s obscene; there’s no way the whole party doesn’t know what you’re up to by now.

You don’t give a shit. You hope they’re all jealous.

Your legs start to shake as the pressure in your core builds, and you’re suddenly in dire need of release all over again. You move to reach a hand down between your legs, but Jungkook doesn’t miss a thing.

He lets go of one of your thighs to knock your hand away, replacing it with his own, his thrusts never slowing. You watch this time as he spits on your clit again, and then starts to rub circles over it.

It’s a touch you’ve felt before, fast and hard, usually performed by a guy who has no idea what he’s doing, and usually painful as all hell.

But Jungkook is very obviously a fucking expert in his field, and he must know that when you’re as slick as you are from his mouth and your own arousal, and you’ve already come once, and you’re this insanely turned on and desperate for it, it doesn’t hurt at all. Your hips lift up off the bed because right now, it’s fucking perfect.

“Oh my fucking god, Jungkook, fuck, yes, don’t stop–” you cry out, and your last moan is nearly a scream as you come all the way undone for him. Your cunt squeezes tightly around his length, and he only has to rut into you a few more times before he’s coming, too, with a loud groan of your name.

His head drops onto your shoulder as he finishes, gasping for breath. You lean back against the pillows, still shuddering a little but entirely spent, fucked out of your mind.

You’re only vaguely aware of what’s happening when he pulls out of you, or when the bed shifts as he gets up to dispose of the condom, then collapses back down next to you with a dazed sigh.

You roll into him, still lost for words, and he wraps both arms around you. You can hear his heart thudding hard in his chest, the same tempo as yours.

A laugh rips through you as you play the last few moments back and remember his hand shoving your own away. You look up at him. “So what are you, in charge of my orgasms now? Did I sign a contract tonight?”

“No,” he gives a small smile, and you see a blush creep up his neck at the reminder of something done clearly in the heat of the moment. “I don’t know. No one had ever made you come once before, so… I just wanted to do it twice. Set a new number to beat.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide the grin on your face. “I’m not a video game, Jungkook.”

“Nope,” he laughs, tightening his grip around you. “You are so much better.” He ducks down to kiss you gently.

You’re still smiling when he moves to rest his chin on your head. “And you are better than my vibrator.”

There’s a comfortable pause, and then you decide you may as well do what you do best and ruin everything. “So, is now the time when I ask you the phrase that every frat boy dreads to hear?” You start, and he’s already looking at you when you glance up again. “What are we?”

He shrugs, looking totally nonplussed. “That’s up to you. I will literally go out there right now and announce to the entire party that you’re my girlfriend and I’m the first man to ever make you come, if that’s what you want.”

You press your face to his chest and laugh self-consciously. “Well, I think they already know about the second part. I wasn’t exactly quiet.”

His lips brush against your temple. “Don’t be. I want them all to know who’s fucking you right.”

You sigh, wondering how on earth this kid is real. There’s a big part of you, especially with the high of two orgasms rattling around in your brain, that wants to take the leap right now, straight into the unknown. You want to trust him fully, but you’re still scared of the uncertainty, the potential for disaster. It’s been a long time since you let someone all the way in.

“But the G word…” you say nervously. “That’s a lot for me, at least right now.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says simply, and when you meet his gaze, the look on his face betrays no hurt feelings or hidden agenda. It makes you feel like it really is okay. “We can be whatever you want,” he continues. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You can feel yourself getting emotional, and you bring your cheek to his chest again, hoping he can’t tell. “Well, whatever label we put on it, you are eating me out like that at least once a week.”

“Once a week?” He huffs softly. “How about once a day?” He shifts slightly to trail kisses along your neck. “Actually,” he murmurs in your ear, “I could go for seconds right now…”

You laugh and shove against his chest. “Hey, I’m still getting used to this brave new world over here. If you make me come again tonight I think I might literally die in your bed.” He relents with a smug smile and a kiss pressed to your cheek.

“But if you wanted to wake me up that way tomorrow…” you offer, and he gets that goddamn look in his eyes, the one that may forever be known as the look that ruined your life.

“Oh, I think we can make that happen.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook x y/n #bts smut #bts x reader #the spins

[honeyshiddendesire]

Pet Name Headcanon List

Mihawk x Female Reader - Princess

Warnings: BLOOD PLAY/blood tasting!! Possible yandere/ vampire vibes 🤷‍♀️ Use of dagger, bondage/ bound, blindfolded & gagged reader, Vaginal penetration, prone bone, dirty talk, praise kink, pain kink, pussy eating,

*Also a little long only cause it's hard for me to do Blood Play and not add context and compassion @aehtery *

*banner*

Your arms were bound behind your back, thighs tied to stay together with a plush pillow under your hips to keep you slightly elevated. A gag in your mouth making you drool profusely, breath shaky from anticipation as a blindfolded was on you hiding his next move. You didn't fear what was to come, knowing all you needed to do was snap your fingers and he would stop instantly. A way he could enjoy you quiet but also be at ease knowing you could still warn me. 

“My sweet princess~ I hope you know how beautiful you look, all bound and pretty, perfectly still and completely under my control.” His smooth voice dripped over you like honey that seeped into your psyche and you wanted to devour the sound forever. You shivered slightly as you felt cool metal run up the back of your leg, his voice being heard again. 

“Princess princess princess~ always so obedient, letting me do absolutely anything I desire.” Mihawk smirks then licks his lips as he stares at your perfectly naked form. “You know princess~ you belong to me…mind and soul but I should make sure you're body knows it too.” His deep voice calls to you, making your breathing pick up. “You see…I want to mark you…forever.” 

Your noises were muffled into the gag as Mihawk sat on your legs and as gently as possible carved an ‘M’ on your butt. Small and not too deep but he wanted it to scar, needed it to scar. “Doing so so well for me princess.” He hums as he kissed the other cheek before moving to slick at your soaked slit. Little whines leaving you at the mix of pain and pleasure that he put you through.

It was maddening the way he spelled his name into your cunt, his tongue diving in to swirl around and go as deep as he was able to. Pulling back to sloppily kiss at your clit making you whimper before kissing his way over to the fresh wound he had made. “My dear princess I must thank you for being so obedient, so good to me. Allowing me this privilege and many others to come.” Mihawk thanked as he licked the blood that started to drip.

“Mmm~ so sweet princess~” Dracule Mihawk's infatuation with blood reminded you of a vampire especially when he sucked on the mark earning a muffled scream from you. “Shhh princess~ you know I can't help myself.” He says with a chuckle. His hands remove the last bit of his clothes making you whine as you hear pants hit the floor. 

“Can't wait anymore dear. Need to have you princess~ the taste of your blood is insatiable.” His words are barely loud enough for you to hear but you don't care as you feel him slide his cock along your slippery folds. 

“Mmm~ my dear, my love, my sweet bloody princess~” Mihawk groans as he bullies his cock all the way inside in one sharp thrust, his hands caging you in on either side. His creamy hips flush with yours making you whimper as they pressed into the fresh wound drawing more blood. “My sweet darling.” Mihawk grunts as he pulls back to admire the blood that stained both of your skin now before slamming back into you.

His fingers sliding down to scope up some of the crimson liquid that spilled as his hips back away. Dipping his fingers into his mouth with a deep groan before slamming back into you. Mihawk's eyes rolled back at the taste of your spilled blood and maybe he was a vampire or maybe he was deranged either way, he was yours. 

“So magnificent, mi princessa~” Mihawk moaned, sucking his fingers clean before leaning down to wrap his arm under your neck. Ripping the gag off your face to pull your head back for a deeply passionate kiss. A moan spilling from your mouth into his at the metallic taste that flooded your senses. 

“Mihawk~!” You cried out at the merciless pace of his thrusts, his other arm snaking it's way between you and the pillow. Skilled fingers vigorously toying with your clit as his cock drilled into your cunt ripping a mind tingling orgasm from you. “Mmm that's it~ my bloody princess~”

#one piece #one piece smut #honeys works 🍯 #one piece headcanons #one piece x female reader #pet name headcannons #x female reader #dracule mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #one piece mihawk #one piece mihawk smut #mihawk smut #dracule mihawk smut #mihawk x female reader smut #one piece smut headcannons #mihawk one piece #pet name game #send in a character pet name

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

silver springs - d. wagner

a/n: hi. welcome back. remember the to do list i had? out the window. danny wagner kiss me on the lips challenge. enjoy, yearning sluts. warnings: horny, danny practices writing kissing and grumpy ish reader, right person wrong time, sort of slow burn? idk, death of a sibling, grief, angst, cursing, reader smokes until the end of the fic, reader has tattoos as usual, lots of sex refrences as usual, corny shit as usual. word count: 3.9k (throwing up) summary: the three times daniel wants you, and the one time he gets you. paring: daniel wagner x gn!reader now playing: silver springs - fleetwood mac "i follow you down/till the sound of my voice will haunt you/you'll never get away from the sound/of the woman that loves you."

It all starts when you’re eighteen, fresh off a breakup with a guy who cheated on you. You found him sleeping with a girl from your psych class after you introduced him to at a party. In hindsight, he wasn’t a loss or anything, but you were eighteen. You were stupid and in love and he was all that mattered to you.

After three months of moping around and being miserable because of him, your friend, Veronica, eventually convinced you to get over yourself and go out with her.

You obliged. It was three quarters of the way through your sophomore year and were determined to not let some guy who couldn’t even make you cum ruin your college experience.

And what was this wild experience your friend wanted to do to get you out of your funk?

Well, she decided it would be a concert. A rock concert.

You had heard of Greta Van Fleet a few times—Veronica was straight up obsessed with them. You mostly listened to music your ex-boyfriend listened to, and never really formed an opinion of your own on the matter. You had other stuff to do, you would defend.

At this point in their career, Greta Van Fleet was only just starting; They were playing a small venue nearby, as an opener.

Veronica convinced you to go super early and get a good view with her. What else were you supposed to do on a Saturday? Your homework?

And even you had to admit, they were pretty good. You enjoyed the passion they had for their shows, and they were all pretty good looking.

The drummer especially.

Veronica decided to stick around after their set, grabbing a drink with some guy she had met, while you went outside to smoke.

Smoking was a horrible habit you had picked up, and you fully intended to quit, it just never struck you as the right time. It was a late spring night, the air muggy and buzzing with the lights of the city. You had been going to school in New York for a little less than a year, and you loved every second of it. Sure, you missed your family, who you had left behind in Nashville, especially your sister, but you knew you needed to leave. Even for just a while.

“Can I borrow your lighter?” A voice asks. You whip your head only to see the drummer. What was his name again?

“Yeah, sure.” You take out your lighter and flick it on, letting him light his cigarette with it.

“Thanks.” There’s a silence that fills the air while you smoke, until he eventually extends a hand. “I’m Danny.”

You smile, shaking his hand and giving him your name before adding, “And I know who you are.”

“Oh, do you?”

“Yeah, you’re the drummer.” You say coolly, although your heart is racing.

“You like our music?”

“Now I do. Tonight, was your first show of mine.” You explain, “My friend is like,” You cough on smoke, “Obsessed with you.”

Feeling bold, Danny asks, “What if I want you to be obsessed with me?” And it makes you scoff, only you’re only doing it because you’re nervous.

“You flirt with all your fans like this, Drummer?”

“Only the pretty ones.” You just smirk. You don’t expect the next words out of his mouth to be, “Come with me to California.”

“What?” You laugh, unable to believe it.

“California. We’re releasing an album later this year, so you should see more of our shows before we become a huge hit.”

“I can’t go to California with you!” You grin, and by the way he’s smiling at you, you know he’s not expecting you to.

“Why not?”

“I have classes, for one!”

“Classes? So pretty and smart?”

“Oh my god, Shut up.”

“What are you majoring in?”

“English. I want to write. Whatever they’ll have me write, articles, books, what the fuck ever, you know what I mean?”

And he does. He gets it because that’s the way he feels about writing music.

“I get it.” He answers.

“So, I can’t come with you to California.”

“No, I guess not. But when you get a job writing, you’ll let me come find you? Ghostwrite my memoir, write a scathing review of us, what the fuck ever, as you so delicately put it?”

“Deal.” You agree.

“Then, I’ll see you, Sugar.” You stop at the name, turning to him. “What?” He asks.

“That’s what my family calls me.” He laughs. “I’m being serious!” You argue.

“No, you’re not—” He realizes you most definitely are. “Why would they call you that?”

“Because my sister is the nice one, and I am an asshole.”

“No fucking way.”

“What, did ‘What the fuck ever’ not give you enough of a hint? She’s Spice, and I’m Sugar, only Sugar stuck.” You say, finishing your cigarette.

“Well, Sugar. At least let me give you my number if I can’t take you to California.”

“Deal.” You agree, but before he can, his friends from the band are calling him, and you know Veronica must be wondering where you are. And he doesn’t have his phone on him or a pen, and your phone is dead.

Fuck.

“Hey—” He pulls you close with one arm, his other hand still with a cigarette. He puts it in his mouth so his hand can reach down and pull your lighter out of your pocket. “I’ll give this back when we meet again, alright?” He asks, his words a little murmured because of the cigarette.

You’re usually cynical. You could’ve told him to fuck off and took the lighter back. But you don’t.

Instead, you kiss his jaw and mutter, “Okay. Later, Drummer.” He pockets the lighter, and starts walking back to his friends, only backwards to face you still.

“See you soon, Sugar!” He calls.

It’s only when you get back to Veronica that your brain clears enough to remember that your full name is on the lighter. You hope he’ll use it to come find you.

• • •

So, the next few years fly by and before you know it, you’ve been out of school for around a year now, and you’re happier than ever. You’re staying in Tennessee, staying with your sister and your niece. You’re apartment hunting, starting a new job as soon as the New Year comes, but you have ulterior motives.

You’re getting ready in her bathroom as she leans against the door frame, watching you. Your niece sits on the edge of the tub. She just turned six and is learning all about the world. You love watching her grow, except for one teensy little thing—

“Why does Sugar get to go see Greta and I don’t?” She asks your sister.

“Because Sugar has big kid money, and you spend your allowance on Barbie.” Your niece just huffs. You grin as you finish fixing your hair. You crouch down to her level, and push hair from her face.

“How ‘bout this? I’ll take lots of photos for you, and get you a shirt, and I’ll take you on their next tour, okay?”          

She considers this for a moment.

“And you’ll say hi to Jake for me?” While you are in Danny Lane, Duh, she is strictly obsessed with Jake Kiszka.

“Of course, I will! Duh! He’s gonna love a message from his best girl.” You say it as if it’s obvious. She giggles and stands, giving you a quick hug before you have to leave.

“You’re so good with her. And nice too, I never expected that.” Your sister says as she walks you to the door.

“Don’t expect me to go soft with you, too. She’s the exception.” Your sister just smiles as she stands in the door, watching you walk down the walkway.

“Be safe!” She calls.

“Bye, Mom!” You say dramatically as you get in her car to drive to the venue with.

The show is amazing, as usual. Since their career has taken off, you’re only a more active fan, always keeping tabs.

You keep tabs to see if Danny is taking anyone. He does. You don’t know if that’s true for right now, but you know he has since you saw him. So have you. It’s ridiculous to assume you’d stop your lives for one flirty encounter when you were 18.

After the show, you notice people grouped around, waiting to see if the boys make an appearance. You don’t have anywhere to be. You stick around.

An hour or two passes. You smoke, lending cigarettes to other people waiting, and the number of folks start to dwindle down. But the summer is coming to an end, and you know that this might be one of the last times you can stay out this late without freezing for a while.

And wouldn’t you know it, Sam and Danny come out to say hi. And Sam is lovely, of course he is! He’s sweet and funny, and even more handsome in person.

But Danny makes your heart race. You grin to him, and it takes him a second before he breaks out in a grin, as he approaches you. Before you can say anything he just hugs you, and holds you for a while. He pulls away and looks at you, uttering your full name, as it was written on your lighter.

“Danny...” you say softly, and he just keeps smiling at you. His curls look healthier. He looks healthier.

“Hi, Sugar.” He says gently.

“You remembered that stupid nickname, Oh God...” you groan.

“And you still hate it.”

“Mm... maybe not so much when you say it. Maybe not when my niece says it.”  Because it stuck so well, your niece just grew up knowing your name as Sugar, and not much else.

“Your niece?”

“Stevie, she’s an angel, and in love with Jake Kiszka.” You admit.

“I’ll extend the message. Stevie, is that a reference to the true queen of breakup songs?”

“Yes, of course.” You assure. You can’t stop staring at him. His eyes wander down to your arm, to your wrist.

“Cool tattoo.” It’s a lighter. It’s corny, you know that. And part of you didn’t even get it because of him. Half of you just thought it would be cool. But there was a part that hoped he’d see it one day.

“Well, some asshole took my last lighter and hasn’t given it back, so I figured no one can steal this one.” He laughs and shakes his head.

“You’re funny, Sugar.”

“Well...” You shrug softly, “You can keep the lighter by the way.” You assured. “No hard feelings.” He grins, pulling it out of his pocket and waving it at you.

“Thanks. And hey, maybe I could give you something of mine, too?” This confuses you until he pulls off the necklace he’s wearing and drops it in your hands. You look down at it, and your face flushes. It’s a long leather cord, with a milky stone shaped like a moon.

“Does this mean I won’t be getting your number tonight?” You ask, as your hand closes over the necklace. He smiles at you and shakes his head.

“It wouldn’t be fair to either of us. I’m going to be on tour for a while, and you live in New York—”

“I’m moving to Tennessee. Nashville. For work.” You assure. He smiles wider.

“Then when I get back. I’ll come find you.” He speaks. “Are you in the writing business yet?”

“Getting there.” You tell him.

“Then I’ll find you in the future.” He assures, as Sammy calls his name back at the door where he came from. How come it always ends this way? How come you always have to say goodbye to him? Especially when he looks this good? Your heart aches for him already. You want him to kiss you. But instead, you lean up and kiss his jaw, and he smiles down at you when you pull away.

“See you soon, Sugar.” He says gently. It’s quieter this time. You know he means it. He pulls away, and takes one last long look at you, and turns just before you can see tears in his eyes, and just before he can see tears in yours.

• • •

The rest of the year flies, and your new job starts, about twenty minutes from where you live, and only fifteen from your sister and niece. You get a raise three months in, and it’s just in time for you to buy your niece tickets to the Starcatcher World Tour. You’ll be the first show of a long tour, and you know you can’t stay like you did last time. Besides, he won’t come out to see the fans, not after such a long night.

You bring something for him just in case.

But your niece and you have a great time, despite this being your first show without being in the pit. You have first row lower bowl seats.

Ticketmaster is your sworn enemy, and you’ve won every battle with them lately. Fuck ‘em.

Because it’s the first show of the tour, everything is new, and you don’t know what to expect. You especially don’t expect a ten-minute drum solo from Danny.

…It makes you want him desperately.

When they move to the B stage, you’re still a little caught up in him, but that is nothing compared to when they exit the B stage and start handing out flowers. Danny doesn’t really have any flowers, but Jake is walking right in front of him, and right towards you.

Your niece freaks the fuck out. Because she is a Jake girl, and Jake is right there. He sees her small hands and grins, handing her a rose, and clasping her hand with his for a moment before continuing his walk. You’re so caught up in this moment that you don’t register that Danny is quickly approaching.

And then you do, and you’re one of the many calling out to him, as he smiles and clasps his hands with theirs.

Instead of Danny, you call, “Hey, Drummer!” and somehow, during all this chaos, he sees you. And he’s grinning like an idiot.

He stops for a second, pulling you forward, and before you know it, he’s taking about twenty seconds to kiss you.

It’s deep, passionate, and full of the raw need that you’ve felt since seeing his drum solo. Everyone around you is freaking out as you slip what you bought to give him into his hand.

He must leave though, and he slips what you’ve given him in his pocket, pulling away, and whispering quickly,

“See you soon, Sugar.” He leaves, and you’re left to the screaming fans around you, including your niece, who can’t believe anything that just happened.

The show goes on, and there’s a new energy about Danny.

Everyone on twitter goes wild about your interaction.

When he gets off stage that night, he pulls out what you gave him from his pocket, and sees it’s a polaroid picture of you, in your bathing suit and sunglasses, on the beach.

He uses it to get through rough nights on tour.

• • •

The next year or so goes by in a whirlwind—In the worst way possible. Work is going well, you don’t date anymore, delusional about your Drummer, and for a while, everything is fine.

Until your sister slides off the road during a snowstorm and is killed on impact.

You go from taking care of Stevie when your sister needed a break, to being her legal guardian.

It is the hardest thing you’ve ever had to do. You balance your work life with your grief, newfound parental duties, and helping Stevie through the loss of her mother. Her father was never in her life, and you find yourself moving into your sister’s house, so Stevie doesn’t have to move schools.

You watch her attempt to process this huge loss at eight years old. She doesn’t listen to music anymore; she doesn’t want to celebrate her birthday and she doesn’t want to sleep without a nightlight.

You hold her while she cries for her mom.

You hold your mom while she cries for her daughter.

No one holds you as you sob, longing for your sister.

You will yourself to be good. To be nice and not let the grief suffocate you, you need to be there for your best girl, she cannot do this without you. But it’s so hard. You’re angry with the world, with yourself, with her, why couldn’t she have just stayed the night at her friends? You will yourself to channel that stupid nickname. You will yourself to be good.

The winter is hard, but as the season thaws, so does your grief. It’s still hard, but the kitchen fills again with the smell of pizza and baked goods, with the sound of Foo Fighters and Guns N Roses, and with your niece’s laughter.

You talk about your sister openly, never hiding your own grief from Stevie, and never being afraid to tell her stories of her mom.

You get a tattoo on what would have been your sister’s birthday. It’s just her birth flower.

Under it, in her handwriting, is “Sugar and Spice.” It’s right beneath your lighter tattoo. It’s the only time you’ve ever cried getting a tattoo.

Summer comes, and your office has no A.C. It’s a critically hot day in Nashville, Stevie is being watched by your mom. You’re editing a new chapter from a high-end client, just finishing it up before you head home for the day. Really, your day ended ten minutes ago, but you’re still working. Until you get a call from your office’s front lobby.

When you answer it, it’s just Jane, the security guard.

“Hey, Jane, what can I do for you?” You ask, rubbing your eyes from finally unfocusing from your computer screen.

“Hey, Kid. Just wanted to see if you were okay with company. Pretty boy says he’s here to see you.” You furrow your brows. Pretty boy? There have been no pretty boys in your life recently.

“What’s his name?” You ask quizzically. You hearJane asking for a name.

“Says his names Danny, and—” You stand, making sure your draft is saved before you turn off your computer, grabbing your things, and remembering she’s waiting for a response.

“Uh—Tell him I’ll be right there!” You say quickly before hanging up, then dash to the elevator, wishing it to go faster. It takes forever.

When the doors open, he stands in front of you, as if he was waiting to take the next elevator up. You just grin and lunge, hugging him tightly. He returns the sentiment. You hold each other there, just embracing each other and taking the other in. You pull away to really look at him.

You haven’t been active on social media since you took guardianship of Stevie, too busy. So, you haven’t seen him in a while. He looks phenomenal. His hair is shorter, but he wears two gold hoop earrings, a grey muscle tee, and has the same smile. His hair has this slight highlight to it, and his skin is tanner, his freckles enunciated.

You want to kiss him.

But you stand back from him for a moment to turn to Jane and thank her, and then you pull him outside, onto the busy streets. You walk for a few minutes in silence, turning here and there. You eventually lead him to duck into a quiet, relatively clean alley way. It’s in a quieter part of town, and you lean against one wall, unbuttoning the first two buttons of your shirt, heart racing in anticipation. He leans against the wall, looking at you.

He can see the leather cord around your neck. It pushes him over the edge.

Suddenly, his hands are on your cheeks as he begins kissing you. His lips are just as soft as you remember, but his hands are rough. They must be calloused, even blistered from guitar and drums. You deepen the kiss. It’s heavy, and hot, much like the day around you.

It makes you want him more.

You pull him closer, by grabbing his shirt and pulling him against you. He tilts his head for better access, slipping his tongue into your mouth. You’ve wanted this for years. Your hands leave his shirt, trailing up to tangle in those locks of his.

You finally pull away when you can’t stand to be without air anymore. But as soon as you do, you find yourself kissing him again. Not as deeply this time, but with just as much need. You kiss him again and again, your skin burning.

When he pulls away for real, panting, he leans his head on the wall behind you, his hot breath on your collar bone.

“Found me, Drummer…”

“Found you, Sugar…” He says softly.

“How? Why?” He pulls back to look at your face.

“How? You’re on your company’s website. Why? What do you mean why? Why? Because for the past six fucking years, I have only had enough of you to keep me wanting you, and every time I’m able to stop dreaming about you and your perfect lips, I am pulled back in by fate, seeing you always. And when I kissed you last year... It snapped something in me. You ruined everyone else for me, and I still had to wait. I don’t want to wait anymore. I’m not on tour, I’m here for a long time. I need you...” He says your name gently when he realizes you have this terrified look on your face.

“I… I can’t just… Danny, I’m my niece’s legal guardian. I will always have an obligation to her first, I can’t run off with you… Can’t go with you to California...” You tell him weakly.

“That’s okay.” In truth, Danny always wanted kids, and sure, he wasn’t planning on a kid just now, but he’s sure you can make this work. “When did this happen?”

“January… When my sister died.” You tell him, your voice barely above a whisper, yet it cracks with emotion. He just kisses you quickly and holds you.

“I still need you. I’d love to meet your niece.” He says once you’ve pulled away. You grin.

“She’s a big fan of yours.”

“More of a Jake girl, I hear.” He smirks. It makes you laugh.

You straighten yourself out, ready to take him to your house, have him meet Stevie, and just jump into it. Fuck it. What have you got to lose after waiting for him for six years?

Before you can make it out of the alley, he grabs your hand and says your name again. He takes out his—your lighter, and places it in your hand. You gave up smoking the night your sister died.

“I don’t need it right now, sugar. I told you, when I saw you again, it would be yours. And now we don’t have to say goodbye in two minutes.” It’s enough to make you lean forward and kiss him again.

You take his hand and begin walking with him. There’s no need to long for him anymore.

#danny wagner x you #daniel wagner x reader #danny gvf #greta van fleet #greta van fleet x reader #greta van fleet x you #sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka x you #sam kiszka x y/n #daniel wagner x you #josh kiszka x you #josh kiszka x reader #josh kiszka x y/n #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka x you #greta van fluff #greta van fic #tags are dumb #tags are hard #tags are a pain #daniel wagner

[celticcrossanon]

BRF Reading - 9th of February, 2023

This is speculation only

Cards drawn on the 9th of February, 2023

Question: What will Prince William's next three months be like?

Interpretation: Joy at having his wife back mixed with dissatisfaction about the choices available to him and something happening to Harry.

Card One: The Two of Cups.

This is a card about relationships, especially romantic relationships, and it is the soulmate card. This card tells me that Prince William will have his soulmate back with him in the next three months. Princess Catherine will be well and happy and able to join him for events. This will be a great relief to him - a huge burden is going to lift from his shoulders when this happens.

The clarifier for this card is The Devil. This is normally not a good card, but in this case it is presenting in its astrological aspect. The Devil card represents the sign Capricorn, and it is Capricorn energy that I am getting from this card. Princess Catherine is a Capricorn, so this is verification that the Two of Cups is about her and she will be restored to her soulmate in full health and able to join him in activities again.

When I look at this card, I hear the voice of one of my friends who also reads tarot, saying that she always loves seeing the Devil card turn up when she reads for herself as for her it means wealth and worldly riches. I think Prince William is going to feel like he has all the riches in the world given to him when is soulmate is well and back by his side at events.

Card Two: The Nine of Cups in reverse

When the Nine of Cups is upright, it indicates emotional satisfaction, contentment, and wishes coming true. When it is in the reverse you are dissatisfied, not content, and your wishes have not come true.

The energy from this card is of dissatisfaction. Something is not going to go the way Prince William wants it to go, his wishes will not be fulfilled, and he will be left feeling unhappy about the result of something. The card shows the reunion of Eros and Psyche, so this could be something about himself and Catherine - for example, he may not be able to be with her as much as he wants over the next three months.

The clarifier is the Seven of Cups. The Seven of Cups is a card about choices, but some of those choices might be illusions, and some may be bad for you. It can also be a card of illusion and wishful thinking.

The card shows Psyche begging the goddess Aphrodite for a chance to be reunited with her husband, Eros. Aphrodite sets her three difficult tasks to fulfil before the reunion can occur.

The energy from the clarifier is of someone having to make difficult choices. They have to take the hard path, not the easy path. I'm feeling an energy of duty as well - doing your duty even though you would rather be somewhere else.

Both these cards are cups, so this is all about emotions.

I think that Prince William is rather unhappy about not being able to spend as much time with his wife (and his family) as he would like. He has to leave Catherine to perform some official duties while the King is out of commission. He knows this is part of his duties as the Prince of Wales, and he will do them to the best of his ability. but at the same time he would rather be home with Catherine, making sure she is well and recovering and has everything she needs.

I hope that makes sense. It's not resentment or anything like that which is coming through, but rather a sense of dissatisfaction about having to leave his family, a sense of 'this is not what we planned and I would rather be able to do what we planned', but instead he is willingly doing his duty because that is what he expects of himself (instead of, for example, pushing the duties onto Princess Anne and saying that he can't leave his wife).

Card Three: The Ten of Pentacles in reverse.

The Ten of Pentacles is a card of family, legacy, financial security, inheritance and tradition. In the reverse, it indicates family disputes or a broken family, turning away from your roots, debt, breaking traditions, and instability. The card can also represent the BRF as an institution.

In this reading, the energy from the Ten of Pentacles in reverse is that of a broken family. Something is going to happen that takes away the stability and/or the status of one of more members of the BRF, and Prince William will be involved in this is some way. The card is giving me a feeling of a small amount of hurt at what he has to do, but he will do it anyway as a way to restore stability to the BRF, even if it means breaking traditions.

The clarifier for this card is the Page of Pentacles in reverse. Pages can be messages, especially messages about money and/or status, and they can be children, in this case an earth sign child, or they can be the beginning of something (a bit like an Ace). This is also my card for the UK as a country. In the reverse, the Page of Pentacles signifies bad news about money/status or about an earth sign child, immaturity, unreliability, missed chances, and laziness.

The energy from this card is that of Prince Harry, the earth sign child of King Charles, who is currently embodying the values of immaturity, unreliability, laziness etc. The card speaks of a message going to Prince Harry that contains bad news about his wealth and/or status, Combined with the Ten of Pentacles in reverse, the two cards together give an energy of Harry being removed from the family in some way. The image I get is of the family as a group, and suddenly the group splits open and Harry is booted out, and then the group reforms.

I think that Harry is going to have something done to him that makes it very clear that he is no longer regarded as a member of the family, and I think that Prince William will be involved in this in a major way.

Both these cards are Pentacles, so this is definitely about material goods (e.g. money, status) in some way.

Underlying Energies (Three Cards)

Underlying Energy One: The Moon in reverse

The Moon in reverse is about things being illuminated, seeing clearly, and secrets coming to light. The energy of this card is very strongly that of secrets being revealed. Sometime in the next three months, some secrets are going to come to light, and as this is a major arcana card, I would say that they are going to be publicly revealed. The distorted shapes that you see in the dark will be gone and the light of truth will be shone upon these secrets.

Underlying Energy Two: The Six of Wands

The Six of Wands is a card of success, of coming home triumphant, of receiving rewards and public acclaim. This card gives me the energy of triumph. The reveal of the secrets in the Moon card will be a moment of triumph for the BRF and for Prince William in particular.

Underlying Energy Three: The King of Wands in reverse

The King of Wands is the card for Leo, and in reverse it means that a Leo is overshadowed or undone in some way. The card is giving me the energy of Meghan for the Leo person. Combined with the other two cards it says that the revelation of secrets and the triumph of the BRF will be over Meghan. She is going to be cast down, overshadowed, have her reputation ruined by whatever secrets are revealed.

The energy here is of relief - this revealing of secrets will be a huge relief to the BRF and will take a burden of stress from their shoulders. They are going to feel a great deal of relief when this happens, in a 'thank goodness it is over' kind of way, and they will be much more relaxed afterwards. This applies to Prince William as well, but also to the BRF in general.

Note: I think that this is the big reveal that Lady C has been talking about. It has the same sort of energy about it.

Conclusion

I have three energies for the next three months for Prince William. Firstly, his wife will recover and will be back at his side, which will take a burden of worry from him. There is a lot of joy around these cards.

Secondly, Prince William will be dissatisfied about the choices he has to make. I'm not getting acute unhappiness, but rather an 'I have to do this but I don't really want to do it' emotional discontent.

This could be about Prince William having to take time away from his wife to perform royal duties while she is recovering. He will do his duty, and he will do it to the best of his ability, but he would rather the extra duties had happened when Princess Catherine was well and not during her recovery period. It could also be about other choices that he has to make during the next three months.

Thirdly, something will happen about Harry - he will be removed from the family in some way, lose status and/or wealth in some way, and Prince William will be a part of this action, even though it does hurt him a tiny bit to do this to his brother, but it is necessary for the stability of the monarchy.

Underlying all this is the revelation of a secret or some secrets, most likely publicly, than will be a triumph for the BRF and very damaging to Meghan Markle. It is quite likely that her reputation will be ruined when this secret/these secrets are revealed.