#c: out of the abyss

[exeiguess]

oc tag meme: fang!

Chibi art by bunny over on instagram! Go check them out!

I wasn't tagged by anyone, but I saw a few people doing this meme, and thought it looked really fun! Starting a new chain and I'm no-pressure, only if you want to tagging: @yaezgalvus @crimson-riot and @space-writes space i know you've already done one for zeth'rinn but what about second breakfast your other wips

Starting off with Fang, who was initially created as a PC for the first module my partner ever ran about five years ago, Out of the Abyss! Unfortunately, the campaign went on permanent hiatus due to the DM going back to college and a couple players having to drop out, but in 2025, we decided to try again. I brought Fang back because I just love him too much not to.

I'll probably end up doing this for a bunch of other OCs, so if you do or do NOT want to be tagged in future lemme know? I might end up just posting them with no tags and whoever finds 'em, finds 'em.

Basic Info

Name: Fang 1

Class/Subclass: Rogue, Scout subclass! 2

Background: Urchin

Gender: Trans man 3

Sexuality: Bisexual

Pronouns: He/him

1 Fang chose his own name, like many tieflings. When most folks on the Sword Coast hear that he named himself Fang, they probably think of the long, sharp tooth of an animal, that he's trying to come across as fearsome and strong. The truth is less impressive; in the city of Mulmaster, from which he hails, a fang is a copper coin.

2 In his original campaign, he took a level dip into Cleric during a desperate moment. Now that @yaezgalvus is rebooting the campaign, I might end up multiclassing in a different direction entirely!

3 When I first came up with his character, I assumed he was a cis man, but working with him and developing his character over the course of five years... I realised somewhere in there that I'd just straight up gotten it wrong.

Other

Family: His mother, Selene pictured on the right, seemingly abandoned him when he was very young. 1 He never met his birth father, 2 and isn't aware of any other living relatives.

1 In reality, Fang was supposed to be a sacrifice for a particularly nasty demonic ritual, and Selene couldn't bring herself to do it. She gave him up in order to "save" him, and while her decision ultimately did a lot of damage, she didn't have a lot of good options.

2 This is because he doesn't actually have one. Fang's "other parent" is arguably just his mother's warlock patron. With that information, Fang is technically a cambion, not a tiefling, but he's certainly stunted and runty enough to pass as a tiefling with little argument.

Birthplace: Mulmaster, in the Moonsea region in North Faerûn.

Job: "Thief" isn't a real job, but...

Phobias: Spiders, being forced to consume spoiled or contaminated food.

Guilty Pleasures: He doesn't have a lot of guilty ones! He likes what he likes and indulges where he can, because he doesn't always get the chance to do so.

Hobbies: Fishing, collecting, and I think he'd get into sewing if he had the time.

Morals

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Sins: Gluttony, Lust

Virtues: Kindness, Charity

This or That

Introvert/Ambivert/Extrovert

Organized/Disorganized

Close-minded/Open-minded

Calm/Anxious/Restless

Disagreeable/In-between/Agreeable

Patient/In-between/Impatient

Outspoken/In-between/Reserved

Leader/Follower/Flexible

Empathetic/In-between/Apathetic

Optimist/Realist/Pessimist

Traditional/In-between/Modern

Hard-working/In-between/Lazy

Relationships

OTP: I made the classic D&D blunder of falling for a minor NPC with like two lines of description and now my favourite OC/Canon ship in any media is Fang/Sarith. Depressive drow soldier and awkward but well-meaning tiefling thief go through one hell of a mental health crisis, and also the potential, literal end of the world together.

Other fun ships: Fang gets shipped with a lot of people, largely because he's so starved for affection and attention that he'll take it from anyone. In the rebooted version of the campaign, there might be something brewing with the party's gnoll barbarian, Geb. In the original campaign, he had a fledgling romance with another PC, a drow bard who's no longer with us. They hatched a dragon egg together, even.

He's also been shipped with a ton of NPCs, including Derendil, 1 Shal, 2 a drider-shaped aberration with two heads, and the actual demon lord of lust and hedonism, if you're nasty. There's also an argument to be made for shipping him with his goddess after he level-dipped into Cleric in the first campaign.

I don't think Fang realises he's a monsterfucker, but he definitely is.

1 A quaggoth with human intelligence who claims to be a cursed elven prince, Beauty and the Beast style, and only occasionally flies into a violent beast-like rage.

2 THE CONSORT OF THE DUERGAR KING OF GRACKLSTUGH, FANG

OT3: N/A, surprisingly. He's open to poly, it's just never come up.

BroTP: In both versions of the campaign, Fang is sticking close to our party's very steely, hard-ass drow monk. Pradir is a known heretic and pisses off Lolthites wherever she goes, but she knows her way around the Underdark, and in a fight, he wants her in his corner.

As far as NPCs go, pretty close with Stool, myconid sprout and the party's beloved mascot. If Stool dies, I am going to riot.

There's also this one duergar NPC from the book named Hemeth, who's kind of shady, but to our party, he ended up being really chill and helpful! In the Modern AU me and Nickie have going, he and Fang are good friends, and sometimes roommates. Oh my god, they were roommates

NoTP: Buppido, a derro prisoner of the drow with some... problems and issues, "turned him down" once. Fang hadn't actually said anything to him that hinted at interest, but you know.

Blank template under the read more!

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Basic Info

Name:

Class/Subclass:

Background:

Gender:

Sexuality:

Pronouns:

Other

Family:

Birthplace:

Job:

Phobias:

Guilty Pleasures:

Hobbies:

Morals

Alignment:

Sins:

Virtues:

This or That

Introvert/Ambivert/Extrovert

Organized/Disorganized

Close-minded/Open-minded

Calm/Anxious/Restless

Disagreeable/In-between/Agreeable

Patient/In-between/Impatient

Outspoken/In-between/Reserved

Leader/Follower/Flexible

Empathetic/In-between/Apathetic

Optimist/Realist/Pessimist

Traditional/In-between/Modern

Hard-working/Lazy

Relationships

OTP:

Acceptable ships:

OT3:

BroTP:

NoTP:

[exeiguess]

Oh god I've been noticed @anais-ninja-bitch

This isn't maybe the very fun detailed answer you hoped for but, the campaign fizzled out after a while (although we've recently started it up again with some new players!) so we didn't get a lot of time with our friend, Themberchaud. Basically, we landed in Gracklstugh, did enough side-quests that we made a name for ourselves, and Big Red's handlers reached out to us about a... problem they were having.

Our DM put a slightly different twist on the "finding the red dragon egg" quest laid out in the book. The Keepers are supposed to approach the party and tell 'em that a thieves guild stole a red dragon egg they just happened to have lying around, and you find out later that the egg contains Themberchaud's replacement. The book kind of implies that he somehow... isn't aware of this? Until the player characters make him aware. The first thing he does when you take the egg back to him is destroy it.

OUR Themberchaud was aware of the egg, but didn't know what the Keepers of the Flame planned to do with it, and he was actually kind of insistent upon us finding the egg, because that was his egg and the insult of it being stolen by grubby little dwarves was just intolerable. It is the prettiest egg. The best egg. Why is it the best egg? Because it's his egg. We're still not 100% sure if he sired the egg himself, laid it himself, or if he acquired it somewhere and just decided to add it to his hoard.

Our DM was sick with COVID at the time and very tired, but the voice he reached for when he had to come up with something for Big Red was really flamboyant, so it stuck out. For context, about half of our table was/is very queer, and we fell in love instantly.

Our aasimar paladin smothered him in compliments to gain his favour and Themberchaud flirted back shamelessly. Fortunately or unfortunately, the Paladin didn't go for it. Our bard was also very sugary sweet with him but while Themberchaud quickly made it obvious she "wasn't his type," he did try to wingman her into making a move on my tiefling rogue, who was, quote, "cute, but too bone-y for [Themberchaud's] tastes."

Any ways, the party eventually finds the egg, realises that the Keepers want it as a replacement because they're planning to shuffle Themberchaud off this mortal coil some time in the next century or two, and we decide to tell him because we love the guy. He's pissed, understandably. He also kind of falls out of love with his egg in a major way and basically demands that we take it with us when we leave. What does he want us to DO with it? He doesn't actually care as long as we get that thing out of his sight. Now.

Basically, we end up taking the egg with us on our travels, with the tiefling keeping it warm most of the time because he naturally runs very hot, and also, Burning Hands. Themberchaud's baby girl (only slightly demonically corrupted) hatches as we begin our journey up to the surface, and immediately imprints on the bard. I'd like to think that if he knew, Themberchaud would be pleased/smug/??? that his offspring (even if they're not half as glorious as him, any more) helped nudge his ship together.

Kinda. The campaign went on hiatus soon after, and didn't get picked back up again. That was about five years ago though, and like I said, the DM and a couple of the old players (plus a bunch of new ones) are planning on picking up the game again in future after running Chapter 1 as a one-shot. I'm excited to see him again!

That... was very long, I'm sorry. orz

Happy fat fuck Friday to Themberchaud, Wyrmsmith of Gracklstugh

[vaguely-concerned]

returnal did not cure my depression but it did give me a strangely healing new perspective that makes it all a bit easier to bear. that perspective being 'I may be having a rough time right now, but at least I'm not inside the head of returnal protagonist selene vassos'

[anthropwashere]

Ah fuck, I almost forgot, I decided to finally post the Grimdark Homestuck Beast for the Good Intentions deadfic event this year. Everybody pray for me and the hours I'm gonna spend bullying the Homestuck AO3 skin into submission

[corvidlvr51]

please share your wisdom of the pandora hearts title meaning!!

First, thank you for the ask! I'm not very good at articulating my thoughts on this sort of stuff so sorry if it I sound incoherent. Also my take isn't anything new, it's been said before and it's fairly obvious in hind sight tbh (at least to me). I had just dismissed the title early on and hadn't noticed the connections while reading the manga for the first time lol.

I don't think the title is meant to represent a specific aspect of the manga, but rather thread together the main motifs of hope, despair, light & darkness, people's hearts and of course, love. I don't have any exact references on hand, but you can open almost any volume and find a panel with one of these themes pretty easily. What/who exactly is "pandora" or "pandora's box" doesn't really matter as it can apply to any of the characters or even the abyss itself, and hell even life in general.

It's like the main quote of the series, "Someone said that this place is engulfed in darkness. But, that doesn't mean there was never any light there". While it's very obviously about the Abyss, it can also be applied to the series as whole or individual characters. Oz even compares light and hope in one scene.

Jack talks about how Lacie brought him hope, but it was because of that hope he was engulfed in the shadows of despair and lost himself in them. Oz, on the other hand, starts the series an abused child who's lost his will to truly live, but he is able to find hope and love and ends the series happy and fulfilled. The manga is filled with awful and dark moments/events, but it's ultimately a story of hope & love & connection.

I'm going to stop myself there, so hopefully you get the point. There's a lot of ways to apply the title Pandora Hearts to the manga, as it's kinda just an encapsulation of the themes of the whole thing.

[fuzzbuns]

No one asked for my thoughts on imaginarium theater but im giving them anyway.

I find it so weird how ppl have been begging for end game content outside of the abyss for 3 years now but when mhy releases a game mode that:

-incentives you to build more characters outside of ur main 2 teams for spiral abyss

- restricts u in a way that challenges u to use teams that are outside the meta

- makes it so you are forced to think strategically about who you use and when and work with what you are given

Instead of seeing it as a fun new challenge to work through they just complain that its? Too hard…?

Like if you just want a game mode to flex ur core teams the spiral abyss already exists…

[lighthouseborn]

[lockedtowers]

i like to imagine that the way cassie is w sam (she called him a tree when they first met, continuously sasses his height, and still asked to braid his hair within 30 mind of meeting him/him finding where her and dean ran off to) is what c/astiel thinks his relationship with her is once she’s known him awhile and he thinks theyre friends, meanwhile everytime she has a positive thought about him she thinks hes finally found a way to brainwash her

[exeiguess]

So about five years ago, @yaezgalvus decided to DM his first D&D module (Out of the Abyss) as a present to me, because I was desperate for an Underdark campaign. Due to a bunch of different factors, including the DM being in a really intensive college course at the time and a couple of players having to drop out, we didn’t see the campaign all the way through to the end. Still, that campaign was one of the most memorable ones I’ve ever played in, and the PC I made for that game still lives rent free in my head years later. 

Recently, we started a second OOTA campaign with a different group and I decided to bring back my dearest blorbo. I’ve also made a promise to myself that I’m going to talk more about my OCs in 2025 (because it sparks joy) so if you’re interested in learning more about my wet pathetic tiefling son, hit the read more. 

So, first of all. Here’s his toyhou.se page, go look at his art. Look at the scrungle. 

Second, a quick overview of Fang before I get into the weeds. Fang is a tiefling rogue, specifically an Abyssal tiefling, meaning, he comes from demonic rather than devilish stock. He’s got a typical "tragic rogue" backstory in some ways: he was abandoned as a kid, and he ended up on the streets and stole in order to survive. Thief with a heart of gold… and a lot of deep-seated emotional and self-worth issues on account of, you know, the childhood abandonment. 

[Note: Making him an Abyssal tiefling looks too deliberate given the reveal later, but I did choose his subrace before I knew that was a thing, because it seemed fitting for the adventure we were about to play. For the curious, it’s not a published option, but it does come from semi official material: check out Unearthed Arcana 11 - That Old Black Magic.

Fang is maybe one of my favourite D&D PCs I’ve ever made, just because he’s so against type. I make a lot of characters who are very competent and (at least outwardly) in control of themselves, but also extremely repressed. They push their emotions down for one reason or another, with the intention that they’ll open up as the campaign goes on and they form attachments to the rest of the party, but Fang is the opposite. He has no idea what he’s doing. He’s full of nervous energy and prone to rash, impulsive decisions when he’s put on the spot. He’s clingy and desperate for human connection and he cannot be subtle about it.

He’s so heartbreakingly sincere, and it endeared him to me right away. I loved him, and I loved playing him. What I didn’t expect was for other people to love him as much as I did. Mechanically, Fang has a whole 8 CHA and I try to play him like it. He stumbles over his words, says one thing and then has to backpedal because it didn’t come out right, and he’s frequently putting his foot in his mouth or saying something that lands just this side of insensitive, but still, people just seem to want to take him under their wing. Maybe they can just tell he’s desperately in need of a mother and/or father figure, so they ask “is anyone going to adopt this?” and then don’t even wait for an answer.

When I first gave his backstory to Nickie it was really bare-bones: I told him that Fang was a street urchin who was abandoned by his mother as a child (I didn't mention a father), and that before he was captured by the drow raiding party and taken to the prison where we would start the adventure, he was on the run from the Zhentarim after stealing from a noble who had connections. I told him that he could do whatever he wanted with it from there, and part of the reason why Fang IS my once and future blorbo is the way Nickie expanded on his backstory and his relationship with his mother. 

In the original campaign, Fang first sees his mother again in the Duergar city of Gracklstugh, the first major city the party lands in after escaping from Velkynvelve. The party was less than willing to hear her out, but Fang was so desperate for answers and another shot at a relationship with his mother that he convinced them to let her stick around and act as a guide. She also turned out to be a pretty invaluable source of information on the Demon Princes.

Turns out, Fang’s mother was a Warlock with a Fiendish pact. Nickie didn’t reveal the identity of her patron right away, and I like to theory craft, so for a long time I was trying to guess what entity she was mixed up with. I went back and forth between the Demogorgon, Juiblex - because Fang started leaking black goop from his eyes when he started digging - and Graz’zt. Graz'zt seemed the most likely, given that his influence was particularly strong in Gracklstugh. Part of that was due to the succubus he had whispering in the earth of the duergar king... who also took an interest in Fang almost immediately. He did fall for it, unfortunately. She just seemed like such a nice lady!

[Sidenote 1: The succubus didn't even get to him by being actively sexual or seductive, she charmed him by embodying a very motherly "come here, rest your head on my bosom, shhh, it's alright" kind of energy, which... oh Fang...]

[Sidenote 2: It was pretty funny when the party was approached by a shade of Graz’zt who briefly possessed Fang to use his mouth and throat parts so it could speak, and the whole party had to double-take HARD when the scrunchy tiefling man suddenly got confident and sexy out of nowhere for all of five minutes.]

Turns out that Graz’zt is NOT the father, but he is sort of… Fang’s uncle? Selene’s patron was eventually revealed as a Demon Lord from all the way back in third edition. Rhyxali wasn’t part of the Out of the Abyss module as written by Wizards of the Coast, but Nickie decided to add her back in for fun with the implication that she was working with her "brother," or at least they were tolerating each other in the same space while they worked on separate goals.

It ALSO turns out that Selene abandoned Fang as a kid because he was literally conceived to be a vessel for Rhyxali, who has no corporeal form of her own, and Fang is literally missing part of his soul in order to "make room" for her. He's felt deeply empty and alone for most of his life, never quite sure of who he is, and at least part of that is by design. He was born to be a sacrifice, and his mother couldn't bring herself to go through with it in the end. She went into hiding with her son, at first, but eventually realised that because of her pact, her patron would always be able to track her down, and Fang by extension. So, she decided to leave her son and keep moving as a distraction.

And what I love about that reveal is that it didn't fix anything. Selene had reasons for doing what she did, but she still made an impulsive decision that permanently shaped and did real harm to her child, and she doesn't expect him to ever forgive her for it. When Fang chooses to build a relationship with her as an adult, it's not an obligation or a forgone conclusion, or a moral judgement one way or the other; he just misses his mother. Around this point in time is when the game went on perma-hiatus, so I found out the final twist for Fang's personal journey later: that his mother was going to have been dead for some time now, her form only held together by Rhyxali's shadows. Fang would have had to reckon with the idea that when the portal to the Material Plane was closed and the demons were banished, he'd be losing the shade of his mother as well.

Fang's story, ultimately, would have been one about grief, loss and building up your own identity. I think what's really made Fang stick for me for so long is all of the really powerful elements he kind of embodies, but in particular, the idea of grieving the potential of a relationship you could have had with a neglectful or absent parent, not just the person themselves. He's really special and close to my heart, even years later. Some broad strokes are going to carry over into the second campaign, but others are definitely going to change, especially weaving together with all of the backstory things for the other player characters (the original party were all very... disjointed, but the second has a lot more cohesion and shared plot threads) and I'm fascinated to see where it ends up.

[abloginnameonly]

Maglubiyet's most employee-pilled goblin who will follow their boss to the ends of the earth and have a great time about it, too.

[blackvahana]

Oh. That's right. The biggest of all news

Lev had me in India on his plane. I got a tiny carved stone elephant and it's the best thing I've ever gotten I'm addicted to it

[sleep-0-deprived]

Sirens touch~! (Kyle Garrick x male siren reader) 𓊝

WC:.2.1K

Tags: pwlp, anal sex, sex on a boat, monster x human, pheromones used as drugs, fish anatomy mentioned, bottom male reader, seduction themes, siren songs, handjobs, neck biting, blood mentioned 𓇼

A/N: this one is for @creepy141dollie hope Y’ like it, forgive if M’ descriptions of sirens are inaccurate, this was jus my thought process <33

Taglist: @kimisbunny @asher-is-hotxp @silvern1006 @unstab1eperson2 @yyuinaa @dewday1 @blond3ang3l @creepy141dollie @m4r13ll @ihavezeropancreas @sooobiinn @just-ignore-them @fuckingmxonlight @nightwinglover101 @chasingknives @littlelilithsposts

𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆟𓆝𓆟𓆝

The air was fogged over and cold- rigidly so, you could almost taste the salt in the air when you breathed in the mist. Kyle wasn’t happy about this in the slightest, the moment price caught wind of makarov supposedly hiding somewhere across the sea, he had the whole task force on a ship on the ocean waters, that included Gaz too. Gaz walked around on the deck, he’d peek his head over the rails and stare into the nearly black abyss of water— god he could only imagine how cold that water must’ve been.

His eyes slowly widen when he sees something beneath the sheets of liquid, it was probably just a dumb fish swimming around. Garrick wasn’t made for the waters nor did he like them, sea sick was the only thing he ever got from it— and was that a person laying on that rock?…oh god the sea must be getting to him.

“I don’t see how sailors manage”

Gaz diverts his gaze to the passing soap, walking by and across the ship watching the other end- like what he was supposed to be doing but something felt off he couldn’t explain it, it all felt weird like bugs churning around in his stomach. He’d just cut it down to the waves giving him motion sickness.

“Are you gonna make it there gaz?”

He nearly jumps when ghost sneaks up on him standing behind him with his mask on letting his gaze pierce through the other male.

“You shouldn’t be so damn quiet- you’re gonna give someone a heart attack these days”

“Relax, I was just gonna ask if ye wanted to swap tasks- ye go to the lower deck N’ keep an eye out”

The man’s British accent creeping through his words only making Gaz sigh and nod, making his way down to the empty deck, his body felt a reaction the closer he got to the waters almost like something compelling him forwards. When the rock he had seen earlier came into view he could’ve sworn he saw a man with H/C hair laying there with a deep blue webbed ear. Before he knew it he felt his chest ache at that sight- why did he feel so much need over a man that probably was a figment of his lonesome imagination.

He leans against the rails, blinking once and frowning when he sees nothing on the rock, he almost feels sadness as the disappearance but before he can mourns it a hand is placed up on the ship from the loading area a few feet from him.

“Who’s there?!”

His voice rings empty in the fog, you slip your way up onto the deck while laying sprawled with a little grin. Tilting your head over almost like a curious cat— you weren’t used to not having your tail but you’d make having legs work. Gaz was practically lovestruck standing in his military gear and yet he felt just as defenseless as a common man before a gun.

“Aren’t you just a mean one?”

Your voice was angelic and he knew that you knew that, the way you slithered up on the deck like some serpent ready for its mean had him in a state of pure lust looking at you— Gaz was a weak man and the years of solitude without touch only made him weaker. Your prime prey, you liked a sweet man who was good at heart but had desperation— you could feed off the lust in his eyes alone.

Gaz started approaching you almost in a trance but you haven’t even used your song on him yet, this was pure free will.

“What the hell are you— a damn talking fish?”

“I’m not a damn fish— I’ll have you know I’m a siren”

You hiss your words at him growing irritated with it all, reaching your hand out to grasp hold of the man and pull him down with you having him beneath you on the deck. your body nude and cold from the see, your cock pressed flat down on your thighs while you click your tongue slowly tracing your cold fingers over his skin, humming your own siren song.

“Fuck, what the hell are you doing”

“Don’t pretend you don’t want me, everyone wants me.”

Your hands grip his shoulders speaking statements not questions, your cock was stiffening up when his bulge pressed to your plush cheeks almost giving it a friendly greeting making you push back down against his clothed member, Gaz’s hands roam down grabbing your hips instinctively gripping at the flesh with vigor while he stares up at you in a glossy eyed trance watching how your hands slid off his shoulder down his vest and to his cargo pants, pulling them down with a thud when you undo his tack belt letting it fall on the deck.

Your nails were sharp and pointed leaving chills on his thighs when your nails graze over the tip of his cock having it all wet and coated in pre cum when you finally get it out of his boxers. Your eyes narrow slightly glowing under the dim fog of the late noon sky, the ship rocking back and forth against the waves having Gaz feeling completely under your spell when you hum against his ear and press your lips to the side of his neck.

“God you’re…”

He wanted to say so many things in that moment but his lips quivered and stopped, all men acted that way— you couldn’t count the number of sailors who uttered those exact words to you. Gaz felt different you didn’t want to lure him into a seductive demise, you actually wanted him all for yourself.

“I already knoww~”

you hush him silently with your lips pressed to his Adam’s apple rubbing your sharp teeth to the flesh feeling tempted to just take a bite out of him. Your hand plays with his cock stroking the base and rubbing your thumb flush against the under side of his tip, right where you knew it was most sensitive.

“O-h fuck you’re good at this”

Kyle’s moan comes out strangled like a half laugh when he takes a gulp for the first time in his military years feeling nervous by something that looks so frail, your skin practically glowed sticky from the salt in the sea having your damp body in his lap feeing your bare ass on his thighs making his half lidded eyes just stare at it, he only looks away when he feels the sharp pain in his neck— you just bit him?

“Mhm, you just taste good enough to eat”

“Oh fuuck”

His groan just make you smile having his blood over your teeth like a fresh candy coating making your slit pupils dilate, licking up the blood off his neck leaving him with the mark of a siren when you aim his cock between your wet cheeks, grinning at his expression when his eyes clamp shut from the cold feel of your skin pressing to his manhood. You rock your hips back and forth letting go of his cock and reaching up to his jaw and gripping it tight while you lay hunched over him pressing your bitter and blue lips to his mouth kissing him- making him taste his blood off your tongue while he lays on his back on the deck.

“You want this so bad don’t you?”

“…yes…”

He mumbles mindlessly under you just staring you blankly in the eyes, his lips sloppily responding to yours with your cock standing barely stiff leaning a small pearl of pre cum with your blue webbed ears looking almost like a fin when they flick back and forth in satisfaction. His cock head rubbing between your cheeks and all up and down your crack rubbing against your twitchy ring of muscles.

“Tell me you want inside me- tell me now”

“…I want you, I wanna be inside you so bad”

Your mouth nibbles at his neck some more littering it in red marks having blood smears on his skin while his hips buck up under you making you let go of his jaw when he hisses from how your nails dug into his skin. Gaz presses into you slowly pushing his way inside of your vice, being a siren producing pheromones and natural lubricant around your rim, your holes weee designed to take— you were a being of lust- a Adonis of sex in every way but the name.

“Fuckin, please-“

If it wasn’t for how desperate Gaz was in this moment he may have passed out of humiliation, he hated the way his voice cracked when he begged for you sitting desperate with his cock half inside you prodding its way into the bunny tavern trying to spread and spear you open on his dick, you sit in his lap having your mouth latched on his feeling his moans muffled by your tongue when you bite on his bottom lip leaving little drops of blood mixing into the shared spit.

“Think you may be the biggest man I’ve taken in a very long time sailor”

You lift your hips up and slowly lower them back down on him while you let your hand find its way to his shoulders digging your nails through his gear and clawing a hole in the back of his shirt leaving marks on his rich skin. Your rim milks out the pre cum from his mushroomed head having his hands trembling on your hips while he pushes his spit down your throat.

“I’m not a damn sailor— I’m a captain”

His words come out strangled beneath you when he pulls his lips, tearing them away only to gasp for air. Your nails dig harder letting out soft moans when his cock rubs your prostate just right making you feel warm shrills up your spine having you feeling in a state of euphoria when you ride the man.

Your eyes creep back and you grow slicker around his cock taking it with ease, Gaz lets out heaved gasps beneath you. Not having fucked anything in a few solid years due to his job, his orgasm is on edge but he does his best to hold back not wanting to come too quick but boy if your insides weren’t practically begging it out of him right now.

“Stop or I’ll—“

Before he can even finish his sentence your hand creeps up off his back and over his mouth hushing his groans when you feel his cock start pulsing inside you reaching his high and flooding your insides with his semen leaving a warm feeling inside your ice cold body.

“Now you’re gonna be good and help me get off right?”

“Y-yes ofcourse”

He nods his head when you hum your song to him not even giving him time to come down from his orgasm when you remove your hand off his mouth and reach to the hand off your hips when you guid it down to your hardened cock, letting out a hiss when he touches the base. Gaz slowly starts stroking your cock and giving it a firm touches under your tip.

He starts stroking your cock a little faster gripping the base with your cock leaking a mess in his palm having you instinctively pushing your hips back down on his cock with the semen inside

“I’m getting close”

Gaz starts stroking your cock faster making you arch your back getting closer to edge with his hand snaking off your hips to your ass giving it a squeeze in time with his strokes. Pre cum starts oozing drink you all down your shaft making a mess when your voice cracks and your orgasm rushes over you, you grip his shoulders tight with your

“Oh fuck—“

“What is it fishy? You’re actin like this is your first orgasm”

You sneer down at him frowning when he says that, ropes of thin liquid shoots from your tip leaving stains on his gear. Your chest raises and falls rapidly practically glowing with your eyes rolling forwards to look down at him under you, sitting on top of him on the ship, you slowly raise up off of Gaz, semen starts oozing out of you and onto the ships deck, your rim twitches all puffy.

Before Garrick could even say anything to you, you were gone. The water flashed and it was like you were an imagination? Your figure lurked under the water then disappeared into the fog, sirens were never known to stick to one prey forever.

“Gaz? Mate what’re you doin?!”

There stood a flabbergasted soap, his mouth agape standing next to price with their eyes focused on a ruin captain kyle Garrick ‘Gaz’ laying covered in come with his pants around his ankles laying on his back, his cock limp and his eyes lidded clearly worn out.

[superhoeva]

𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐱 – 𝐜. 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 (𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭; +𝟏𝟖) | okay lovelies. i remember doing this 2478912 years ago for another character i was once in love with in another life and the idea popped back into my head late last night. this is not the only one i'll be doing because i'm down very badly for so many fictional fucking people lol. next up... pope cody? eneeways, thank you to the beauties @ovaryacted and @stellamarielu for beta-ing this for me last minutes. another thanks to @ozarkthedog for speaking the words "charlie reid" and "pussy spanking" into the universe, as i was too much of a coward too until i saw her delicious blurb (go check it out 🫵🏾)!! please heed the warning(s) on this one guys, all of them listed below <3

warning(s): some dark content, language, smut, female pronouns used, safe word (mentioned), spanking/pussy spanking, rough sex, unprotected sex (p in v), possessiveness, dirty talk, bodiily fluids, oral sex (f +m receiving), facefucking/throat fucking, breath play (mentioned), mean!charlie (at times), dark(ish)!charlie, sex toys (mentioned), degradation, public sex, exhibitionism, crying, desk sex, charlie calls the reader names: “slut” + “whore” + “cum rag”, creampies (mention), charlie’s version of aftercare; w/c is 1.8k

✩ To start off, this guy’s a growler. It wouldn’t make sense to deny it, not with how often his vocal cords tighten and razor out the rough sound. It’s usually in the form of your name or a curse, Charlie strains to keep his eyes from rolling at how wet you feel wrapped around his cock. You just take his cock so god damn perfectly… stretched out all pretty and taking every inch he stuffs inside you.

He can’t help the way the noises seep from the back of his throat. Raw and feral Charlie sounds, fucking you the same way with an untamed pace and hands grabbing you with such a heat, you wouldn’t be surprised if his palms were to sear a scar in the shape of his grip. Forever marking you with a him-shaped grope and a pussy full of his seed.

✩ Charlie also never fails to remind you that you are his. He’s a possessive person, remarkably so when it comes to you. No one else makes him feel the way you do–light-headed and running hot and damn near drunk–and makes most of the other things throughout the world insignificant. Not much else is good enough for you except him, and he doesn’t want much to do with anything except you. ‘You’re mine. All fuckin’ mine, baby, you got that?’ he mumbles while he’s buried inside you, exhales mixing with yours. Partially for you, mostly for himself, Charlie builds himself up around the mantra. Wholly convinced of the fact and you belong to him and ensures that it stays hidden from the many evils of the world that you and all of your sweet have him wrapped tight around your finger.

✩ Two words: pussy spanking. Charlie might be a little obsessed with it but no more than he’s obsessed with you. How you whine and jerk when the flat of his fingers pat a sharp smack against your center. He always makes sure to follow it with slow, sopping kisses against the stinging skin, lapping his tongue around your to soothe away the ache before spanking you again, pupils tinting black a soul-sucking abyss at the way you clench around nothing. Crying as you stare back at him, your slit oozes out a slick of warm arousal. “Blubber all you want, doll. Pussy’s leaking out more tears than those eyes and you haven’t even thought about saying ‘red’ yet, have you?” A sick grin splits Charlie’s lips when you arch and shake your head. That’s my girl.

✩ Another one of his addictions is fucking your throat. You’ve got the most gorgeous lips and he’ll never get enough of how they looked stretched wide at the base of his cock while you choke at the way his tip nudges your throat. Charlie likes it messy. He likes you teary-eyed and drooling, and gagging all over him while he holds your face with two hands and a belly full of grunts. The man had to train you up to it but now you’re completely in tune to how he wants you–a complete and utter mess for him to unsoil once it’s over.

After he’s held your nose and busted a load down your throat, he’ll pull out and gather all the spit from your chin and face on his fingers, sliding them into your mouth for you to finish. Sometimes Charlie can’t help himself, forcing his thick digits back until they’re sliding at the back of your tongue, another wet gag jerking your body as he gazes at you, biting at his lip to stifle his groan. Mmhm the man hums, cock twitching with fast-returning life and a rush of heat… all for you.

✩ One of Charlie’s hands is usually what acts as a dampener for the moans you release when he’s fucking you in public. It’s sublime, the way you spill out his name through choked gasps and thick pants. So much so that Charlie purposefully sees how loud he can get you. Whether it’s behind the locked door and closed shades of his office or in the backseat of his cruiser, he makes sure his cock brushes at the angle he’s certain will tear the most gruttal sounds from you possible.

You try so, so hard to keep them in, keep them hidden. You want to feel good, you wanna fall apart in places where that isn’t allowed but don’t wany anyone to know just how willing you are to let him make that happen. It’s a dichotomy that only drives Charlie to extensive, piercing strokes that yank an uproar of wails that he is just barely able to engulf with his cupped palm. “You don’t get to take my cock and not scream for me, baby. That just ain’t happenin’. Let em go or I’ll pull the fuck out, drive you home, and tie you to that vibe you think you’ve managed to hide from me…”

✩ You’ve come to expect it regularly these days–the sound of your panties snapping in half or being ripped to make room for the fat of his cock to stick through and fuck you like he so badly desires. Charlie’s forearms and biceps bulge as he tears the fabric with little to no regard, barely flicking his eyes from the sight of your pussy that’s finally revealed by his ravaging of your hole. Ignoring your gasps, Charlie just smirks while rubbing a palm along your ass and squeezing.

Your underwear, they just… they just always manage to get in the way. He doesn’t even know why you bother with them most of the time, as he has zero patience when it comes to watching you slip them off and fold them all pretty before putting them to the side. If he’s feeling nice, sometimes Charlie will just slide them over to gain access to you. Other days, all he’ll do is tear them and strike a smack to one of your cheeks with a growl. Hush. You already know he’s gonna buy you more.

✩ Charlie is a verbal lover in the sense that he makes you say what’s feeling good… what you want him to do. Speak it into existence for him, and he���ll give you the entire world. Has it been a bitch of a day and you need his cock in your mouth so you can stop thinking? Say it. Your hole is achy and dripping and empty without his fingers packed inside you? Say it. You want him to fuck you into the matress until you forget your name and only know his? Say that shit.

S’not hard, baby, and you look so pretty doing it. Charlie knew your true self the moment he met you. He could sense just how much you not only wanted but needed someone like him–only him–to ruin you the way you want. Smelled it from a mile away. But he’s only gonna give it to you if you tell him, no matter how cute you are when you act like you can’t speak.

✩ When he’s done fucking you, the two of you aren’t really done. Not until you suck your spend off his cock and he kisses you until you can’t breathe. Charlie will usually let you work on your own, a hand on the back of your head guiding you more gently than usual. He stares you down, eyes following every swirl of your tongue across the head and veins, and you lick all the way down to his balls before letting them pop out with a sleepy smile. He’s pulling you up to him right after, hands palming your ass as he slips his tongue inside your mouth, mumbling something like that’s how he likes his girl. All cock drunk and sweet for him.

✩ Charlie grinds his cock deep inside you while you’re atop his desk at least once a week, sometimes three. It’ll have been after you bring him lunch with the prettiest smile or bring something he’d purposefully left behind. He’ll spend a few minutes listening to how your day has been so far–only half-way listening to the words you’re rambling because you’re just so damn distracting. Looking at him like that. Smiling at him like that. Just asking for trouble, so he gives it to you.

It’s noisy but Charlie doesn’t care. Pens rattle and the screen of his computer shakes, yet the thought of them falling is secondary to the way you’re creaming the length  of his dick. “Didn’t even ask ‘f you were good for me today… should I even be fuckin’ you like this? You done anything to earn me givin’ it to you this good? Hm?”  You try to answer but a loud groan slips out instead. Your chest is pressed into the desk and you’re holding the wood for dear life.

Charlie’s hands fist at the hem of your shirt, bunching it up to hold and force you back onto him until he can’t push any further. So full and tispy his cock is making you, head pulsing as it crams its way inside your hole. “You’ll take it either way won’t you? So greedy. Happy to take all my cum and walk out with it dripping down your thighs, aren’t you? My pretty girl… my slut…”

✩ “Look at you, takin’ it all… pussy stuffed all full’a my cock. You like that, doll? Hm? ‘Course you do. Love it when I fuck you stupid. ‘Til you’re drooling for it like a good little whore. You gonna be a proper hole and keep taking it? Lemme fill you up, flip you over, fill you up again? Or maybe I’ll paint this face. Turn you into the prettiest cum rag anyone’ll ever see…”

In other words: degradation.

✩ (BONUS) Charlie knows he goes hard. Hell, everything about the man is 99% right angles of either glacial frost or blazing heat… until he’s with his girl. The usual impenetrable nonchalant demeanor is pierced by you easily  as he wipes you down with a towel, placing long kisses to your thighs in between each soft rub. His hands are the opposite of the hard spanks you received before… now, they caress you and squeeze gently, voice low and rumbling as he blinks through his own haze to praise you and wipe away the tears. “No more’a this now, okay? Did real good for me. Real good, ‘m very proud, baby. Now we’re gonna go pee, then you’re gonna drink and eat somethin–hey. No, no sleeping ‘til you eat a little and get some water down, alright? Pee, water, eat, then I’ll call your work so you sleep the next two days ‘f you really want…”

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[dirtyvulture]

15 Minutes

Natasha Romanoff x Reader*

18+ only, read at your own risk

Word count: 2430

Requested by abyss anon (and other anons): here me out. i've been listening to 15 minutes by sabrina carpenter and the lyrics “i can do a lot with fifteen minutes, only gonna take two to make you finish” is stuck in my head.

what if masc!r with innocent!shy!nat who is completely and utterly inlove with reader but too afraid to make a move? and when she finally does... *wink* but we all know baby natty is going to make up for it all night.

AN: This basically became pure filth with like a sprinkle of plot so...enjoy!

*Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

The first time Natasha met you, she knew she was in love with you. Which really sucked for her because you were the type of person who didn’t look at her twice. You were constantly surrounded by people who were prettier, better, and more important than her. Natasha felt so insignificant around you, and whenever she tried to make her presence known, it always ended in a colossal and embarrassing failure.

She had exactly three conversations with you. The first was just an exchange of names, so she didn’t count that. But it was the first time she got to touch your hand and look into your eyes, and she almost physically fell for you right there.

The second conversation was at the dining hall’s salad bar, where the two of you had reached for the tongs to the romaine at the same time. You had insisted she go first, and Natasha had tried to make a joke about lettuce that fell so short it kept her up for three nights. 

The third conversation took place on a basketball court, where you were playing a scrimmage with a few friends. Natasha emboldened herself to approach, which she immediately regretted when you passed her the ball and asked if she could sink a shot from the three-point line. She stumbled through a pickup line about if you could show her, but you and your friends had only laughed. Naturally, she had missed, and she went home in shame, promising to never speak to you in front of others again.

She always told herself that if she had 15 minutes alone with you, she could get you to give her a chance. But getting those 15 minutes was an impossible task in itself.

Or so she thought.

She finds you sitting alone in the common room, staring at the television, but you hardly look interested in the James Bond movie playing.

Fifteen.

“Y/N?” Natasha whispers. Your head shifts in her direction, but you don’t say anything to acknowledge her. “Is anyone sitting with you?” You grunt, which Natasha cannot determine as a definitive yes or no. “Can I sit with you?” She holds her breath, surprised by her own confidence but fully expecting a denial.

“Sure,” you say, to her shock.

Natasha rounds the couch. You make no effort to move and she settles on the cushion next to you.

Fourteen.

She isn’t sure what to say next. You seem incredibly absorbed in the movie, and she’s nervous to break your focus.

“Natasha,” you say, still not looking at her. “That’s your name, right?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a pretty name. For a pretty woman.”

Natasha’s heart thunders in her chest. Did she hear you correctly? “You think I’m pretty?” she asks.

“I think you’re beautiful.” You look her in the eye now, and Natasha has to catch herself before she falls off the couch.

“I…Um…Wow. Thank you. That’s…really nice of you to say,” she stammers.

“I’m not just saying it. I mean it.”

Thirteen.

Natasha stares at you, trying to read your passive expression. Maybe you were just messing with her, or took a bet from your friends to flirt with her. No one–not even Bruce–wanted her. So why would you? 

“You’re especially cute when you’re nervous,” you say.

“Nervous? I’m not–”

You chuckle. “I know the effect I have on you. And most people. But I hardly notice any of them when you’re around me.”

Natasha feels like she’s in a dream. Are you really saying these words to her? And you mean every one of them? She pinches her thigh, but the sting doesn’t do much to clear her head. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you,” she admits in a rush.

“Is that so?” Your right eyebrow lifts and Natasha squeezes her thighs together subtly. “I never approached you first because…well, I didn’t think you’d be able to handle me.”

Twelve.

Natasha leans forward, resting her hand lightly on your upper thigh. She’s determined to prove you wrong if that’s the only thing she succeeds in tonight. “And what makes you think that?”

Your expression changes to one of surprise. “You’re cute, but way too innocent–” The words die in your throat when her hand slides up to cup the bulge in your sweatpants. 

“You were saying?” she says, turning her voice into a huskier tone. 

“Natasha,” you grunt, and she can tell you’re fighting to keep your hips pinned to the couch, “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“I don’t plan on it.” She grips onto you and wonders if the fabric is thin enough for you to feel the heat of her palm. 

“Someone can walk in at any moment,” you warn her.

“Good. Then they can see you’ve always been mine the whole time.” She feels you twitch and start to harden. She wonders if she can get you off with her words alone, but quickly decides she’d much rather have you inside her instead. 

Eleven.

“I didn’t take you for an exhibitionist,” you comment. 

“What do you know about me? Besides my name,” she counters.

“That you’re awful at flirting–oh shit.” Natasha pushes her hand past the waistband of your sweatpants and it closes around your hot and hard flesh. She rubs you up and down, her thumb brushing the underside of your tip with every stroke and she grins when she starts to see your thighs tremble. “You ever done this before?” you gasp, your hips rocking off the couch to push yourself through her hand. 

“You tell me, baby.” 

You grunt at the term of endearment. “Not quite what I expected from you,” you say. 

“In a good or bad way?”

“Hmm, well…” You look down at your crotch, frowning because you can’t see any of the action under your sweatpants. Natasha uses her free hand and tugs them down, and you lift your butt up to slide them to your knees. Your cock bobs out and Natasha subconsciously licks her lips, knowing she is that much closer to having you the way she always dreamed of. “Are you gonna keep staring at it or do something with it?” you ask suddenly.

Ten.

“I don’t want you finishing too early,” Natasha says, right as a bead of pre-cum leaks out of your dick.  

“I won’t,” you say, although for once, your voice lacks confidence.

“I bet you can’t last two minutes in me.”

Your eyes narrow at the challenge. “And what if I can?”

“Then I’ll let you take me back to your room and fuck me any way you want.”

You inhale sharply at the filthy thoughts her words inspire. 

“But if you can’t…” Natasha squeezes your cock for emphasis, “Then I get take you to my room and fuck you any way I want.”

You snort. “That’s not really a bad deal either way.”

“You’ve hardly seen what I can do,” Natasha warns.

“So show me more.”

Nine.

“Be careful what you wish for.” Natasha leans over and takes the head of your cock in her mouth.

“Goddamn,” you mutter, pumping your hips up into the new heat of her mouth. You had severely misjudged Natasha in her innocence, but you weren’t upset to be wrong. Her tongue flicks against your tip and you’re practically squirming in your seat when she presses down and takes you into her throat.  

“Fuck, your mouth feels good,” you pant, your hands coming to the back of Natasha’s head and gently pushing on it to keep her in place. “This is hardly fair,” you whine.

Natasha releases your cock and it slaps against your stomach, glistening with her saliva and your pre-cum. “You want me to stop?” she asks.

“Not really.”

Eight.

“Then be quiet,” she says, and her dominance surprises you. It also makes you even harder, which you didn’t know was possible at this stage anymore. “Besides, we aren’t even at the main event yet.”

“Main event?” You have to bite your lip to distract yourself as her mouth descends on you again. You squeeze the muscles in your thighs to keep them grounded, not wanting to show her how close you are. 

“Mhmm,” she mumbles around your cock, and the vibrations have you holding on the couch cushions for dear life. The pounding between your legs heightens, spurred on by the fact that the prettiest girl around has her head in your lap, her mouth bobbing frantically up and down your dick. 

Seven.

“You’re cheating,” you whine, but you totally love it as you jog your hips up a few times. 

“I’m what?” Natasha draws back fully and the cold air that hits your cock makes it visibly twitch. 

“Ugh, fuck,” you mutter. “Never mind, baby. Just put your mouth back and–”

“No,” Natasha says, and you shrink back into the cushions just a little. Maybe you should have kept your mouth shut like she said. “I can tell you’re about to cum, and I don’t want you finishing in my mouth.”

“Oh.” Somehow, despite every skill she’s just showed you, you’re surprised she won’t swallow. But you won’t hold it against her. She’s already doing better than most of the girls that sleep with you.

Six.

Natasha leans towards your face, her lips brushing your cheek on her way to your ear. “I want you to finish in my pussy,” she whispers, and the words alone nearly send you over the edge. 

“Oh.” You don’t even realize you’ve reached down to grip the base of your cock, squeezing hard to quite literally prevent yourself from finishing all over your sweatpants. 

“But…I don’t know if you can last that much longer,” Natasha says, pulling away from you. 

“Yes, yes, I can,” you plead. You would do everything in your power to please and if you couldn’t…what was really the worst that could happen? 

“Hmm.” Natasha tilts her head, as if seriously contemplating ending things with you right here.

Five.

“You started this,” you protest. “You can’t leave me hanging.” Literally.

“I didn’t expect you to be so whiny,” she says.

“I didn’t expect you to be this mean,” you counter.

Natasha chuckles. “And you’re the one who said I couldn’t handle you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, happy to eat your words if she’ll ride you. Natasha stands up, and for a moment you think she’s going to walk out on you, but she shimmies down her jeans and you drool at the sight of her lacey red panties. You drop your sweatpants to your ankles so you have more room to move as Natasha swings her leg over your waist.

Four.

You can see the damp patch of her arousal and it hardens you further to see she’s just as excited as you are. 

“Two minutes,” she says, humping you slowly. 

“Easy,” you promise, but you already know you’re going to lose. You reach for her hips, happy that she doesn’t swat you away, and pull her towards yourself until her stomach presses against your cock.

At first, you had been genuinely concerned that someone would walk in on the two of you, but now you couldn’t care less. You were about to get with the Natasha Romanoff, someone your friends had told you would be untouchable. 

Your hands wrap around to her butt and squeeze teasingly. “I’m ready for you,” you remind her, as if she forgot what she was supposed to be doing.

Three.

“I can see that.” She reaches down to grab your cock and drags it along the wet patch of her panties. You groan and dig your fingers harder into her butt. She was far more of a tease than you had ever imagined.

“Come on, baby,” you beg as your cock rubs against the smooth fabric of her panties.

Natasha pulls her panties to the side to reveal her glistening center. Your eyes widen and your hips jerk up to brush through her wetness. She puts one hand on her shoulder to steady herself and uses the other to finger herself. The slick noises she makes are downright sinful and you’re practically vibrating with excitement.

“Let me,” you say, eager to get any part of you inside her and trying to replace her fingers with your own. 

“I think I’m ready,” she says, lifting herself up high enough to position the head of your cock with her opening.

Two. 

Both of you inhale sharply at the first contact. You’re certain you’ve left your marks on Natasha’s butt as she slowly sinks down, taking your entire length in her molten heat.

“Fuck, oh, fuck,” you gasp as you feel yourself twitching inside of her. Natasha rests on your thighs and rocks back and forth. A moan rips out of your throat and your head falls back on the couch. The tightness surrounding your cock is too much. 

“Don’t let me down,” Natasha teases, raising a few inches and falling back down again. Her hand slips around your throat possessively, but even that isn’t enough to bring you back from the brink.

Your bodies move together in a calm rhythm that does not match the emotions racing inside of you. While part of you wants to jackhammer into her like an animal, part of you also wants this feeling to last as long as possible.

Which, to be perfectly honest, wasn’t going to be more than another minute. 

“Do I feel good?” Natasha whispers, threading her fingers in your hair and pulling your head back so you have to look her in the eye as she fucks you.

“You feel perfect,” you grunt, your lower body starting to shake, but you give up trying to fight it off.

One.

“You’re lasting longer than I thought,” she hums, clenching around you with the tightness of a vice and you arch your chest into her, slipping your hands under her shirt to clutch at the warmth of her skin.

“Not for much longer,” you admit, feeling a thin layer of sweat forming on your forehead. The band in your stomach finally snaps and your thighs lock in place as you spill your seed into her, but hardly feeling relieved. Natasha circles her hips to coax out every last drop, leaving you shaking and begging her to stop. 

“I think I won our bet,” she says, finally climbing off your cock. 

“Whatever,” you mutter, your cheeks tinged red. 

“I want to claim my prize now,” she continues, pulling her jeans back on and offering you her hand.

You don’t protest and go to follow her back to her room.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: Thanks for ideas, anons! Hope you liked it. :)

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[cumironi]

OH, I'M DESTROYED : GOJO SATORU

he's your best friend— gojo satoru, he's getting married soon with kids on the way even though your heart is craving for each other, you sarcastically, jokingly tell him, “pleased? oh, I'm destroyed,” after hearing the news, he laughed, almost crying as he looks at you.

w/c. 3,4k

warning : non-sorcerer! gojo satoru. little bit angst. (idk)

p.s. when i said the reader didn't believe in god it's just for writing purposes, i, myself too believe in god. this fiction is inspired by one day series episodes 8? I forget.

“y/n, can we talk?”

there he is, satoru gojo— your bestfriend, your other half, your oasis in the desert, your everything. standing with two of his warm, delicate hands stuffed into his pocket. a warm smile makes themselves home on his handsome face. his blue eyes— satoru gojo’s blue eyes, shimmered like the clearest ocean on a sunlit day, mesmerizing depths promising thousand, endless even, unspoken emotions.

each glance felt like being wrapped in the gentle embrace of a summer breeze, full of warmth and tender affection. his eyes held a universe of mystery and allure, making it impossible to look away, as if they whispered secrets of love and devotion only meant for you— hah, you wish’ you thought.

“sure,” you smile.

your hands gripping the bouquet tightly, so tight the spine cuts through your finger without you realizing. you two walk side by side into the maze behind the chapel where suguru geto and shoko ieiri weddings are held, yours and gojo’s other friends. you refuse to look at him, sparing the man a glance that feels strange after all those two years living your life with no contact from him, neither do you try to reach him, at least not after the fight you have that night.

“how are you doing, y/n?”

the simple question lingers through the air for quite a time when the two enter the maze. your silken hair is pretty, falling gently, enchanting, on your back, touching the soft material of your bridesmaid dress, a blue one, the same color as his eyes— oh, his eyes.

you look to your left to fulfill the starving of your heart, take a glimpse by a glimpse of his frame. two years was too long without seeing those pretty eyes, those warm smiles, those pretty long white lashes, those . . . no, just him.

“it was fine,” lied, of course.

you couldn’t find the courage to pour your heart out, you wouldn’t dare. you wouldn’t dare to tell your best friend how much the longing, how thousand days and nights, and each time you closed your eyes there he was before you, standing in the void inside your dream, how he all of the other people the one who you falling into the abyss to.

“turn right?”

you only nodded, his palm barely touched your lower back and your breath was already prepared to leave your body only for it to come back the second gojo pulled his hand away. the two of you sat on the concrete bench, nailed in the middle of the maze. under the moonlight, the soft glow casting a magical aura around you. the silvery light made gojo’s eyes come alive, no longer hidden behind the black glasses he once wore so often.

his striking blue eyes shone with an ethereal brilliance, reflecting the moon’s gentle radiance. his white locks shimmered like strands of stardust, adding to his otherworldly beauty. in that moment, with the moonlight dancing on his features, he looked more breathtaking than ever, a living embodiment of celestial grace and charm. the night seemed to hold its breath, as if time itself paused to admire the sheer beauty of the scene, leaving you both enveloped in a cocoon of serene enchantment.

he is as beautiful as ever, as breathtaking as you can remember— that’s how you always saw him.

oh, but how gojo wishes you could see the way he sees you. sitting before him, his oh-so-called-bestfriend, his unwavering rock, his compass, and how sometimes— no, every time, it’s just ‘his’.

under the moonlight, with its silvery beams casting a soft glow around you, in the heart of the maze where the world feels like a distant dream, it’s just the two of you. the stillness of the night amplifies the beauty of the moment, every shadow and glint of light painting a picture of serene intimacy. here, in this secluded sanctuary, surrounded by the whispering leaves and the cool night air, the universe narrows to the space between you.

gojo looks at you, his eyes filled with a tender intensity, wishing you could see yourself as he does—captivating, radiant, and indispensable. in this moment, under the tranquil moonlit sky, you are his everything, the silent heartbeat of his existence, the unspoken song of his soul.

“you know,” you say, breaking the silence, “i never thought we’d end up here again. thought you’d be too busy saving the world or something,” you throwing the man side glance, a little smirk playing on your lips.

gojo chuckles, the sound light and familiar. he brings the glass of almost-finished wine to his lips, takes a sip before answering, “and i thought you’d be too busy being mad at me forever,” he jokingly smiled at you.

you roll your eyes, the smirk turns into a smile, tugging at your lips. “well, you did deserve it. you were being insufferable,” you laugh a little. and without you notice, it caught gojo by surprise, a little. two years long he survived with hearing your little giggle— giggle for me, again’ he thought. eyes fixed to you as he takes another sip, smiling.

he smirks, leaning back on his hands. “insufferable? that’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” your head slightly shook, “nope, just accurate,” you retort, popping the ‘p’ as you nudging his shoulder playfully. “you have a way of getting under people’s skin, you know.”

“oh, come on,” he protests, a teasing glint in his eyes. “you know you missed me. admit it.”

“missed you?” you asked, giving the man a glimpse of ‘knowing look’ before smiling, “more like missed having someone to argue with,” you reply, though there’s a softness to your words. you glance at him again, the moonlight making his blue eyes shimmer like twin stars. “it’s been quiet without you around.”

he laughs, the sound echoing in the quiet night. “same old you. always ready with a comeback.”

“and same old you, always thinking you’re the center of the universe,” you quip, though your tone is softer now, the old familiarity seeping back. “well, i am pretty important,” he says with a wink, but then his expression turns more serious. “i’m sorry, you know,” his eyes moving slowly, looking for your expression, “for what happened. i never wanted to hurt you.”

for the second time, you nodded your head, eyes focusing on your laps. you finish the rest of the wine on your glass before putting the glass down on the bench and look at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. “i know, satoru. i’m sorry too. i shouldn’t have walked away like that.”

he reaches out, taking your hand in his. the hands he always wants to hold, straving even. the hands that always perfectly fits with his like a puzzle, the warm, your pulse hitting your soft skin a little harder every time he holds it— oh, how he loves the feeling. “we both made mistakes. but we’re here now. can we start over?” you squeeze his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch. “yeah, i’d like that.”

he grins, the mischievous spark back in his eyes. “good. because i’ve got two years of teasing to make up for.” you laugh, shaking your head as your brain begging you to let go of his hands, so you did.

shaking your head slightly, you scoff, “bring it on, gojo. i’m ready.”

he shifts closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. “you know, i really did miss you. it wasn’t the same without my best friend around.”

best-friend, fucking hate that word’ you thought.

you look at him, the honesty in his words melting away the last remnants of your anger and blossoming the garden of regret and sadness you used to grow, still. “i missed you too,” you smile so little, just like how your feelings made you feel right now. “more than i wanted to admit,” you added, jokingly.

gojo chuckles softly. “well, lucky for you, i’m back now. and i’m not going anywhere.”

please don’t— you want to beg him, wishing he wouldn’t make any promises, you hope he would go anywhere. at least until these feelings start to leave your body, faded, disappearing like whispers on the wind.

but you smile because feeling a sense of peace settles over you. “good,” you lie to yourself. “because i don't think i could handle losing you again,” it was a pleasure to be burn for gojo satoru, it was always a pleasure.

he looks at you, his eyes filled with tender intensity and something unfamiliar— you think, only to not realize he looks at you just like how the way you look at him. his love for you breaking all his bones and soul, but all he can do is just laugh; you were his best friend, after all. beautiful, crushingly so even, you look like the rest of my life— no, that’s not how a best friend thinks of his best friend. gojo satoru wouldn’t dare.

“you won’t. not if i can help it.”

the two of you just look at each other after that, with soft smiles on your faces, letting the weight of the past dissolve in the quiet night. under the moonlight, in the heart of the maze, it feels as if the world has been righted, and for the first time in a long while, everything feels as it should be.

or maybe it shouldn’t.

gojo shifted slightly and reached into the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket. “hey, i have something for you,” he said, his voice tinged with an emotion you couldn’t quite place. curious, you watched as he pulled out an envelope. the paper was thick and elegant— the kind used for important occasions, a soft lavender color that stood out against the dark fabric of his suit. he handed it to you, his fingers brushing yours, sending a familiar warmth through you.

you took the envelope, feeling a mix of anticipation and dread. opening it carefully, you find a beautifully crafted wedding invitation inside. the names on it made your breath catch in your throat: satoru gojo and his fiancée.

your heart sank, but you managed to keep your expression neutral. “satoru..” your voice came out as a whisper, blending with the soft hustle of the leaves. “this is lovely,” you said, forcing a smile as you looked up at him.

gojo’s eyes searched yours as if trying to read your thoughts. the grief— it’s all over your eyes, the grief that is more honest to him than you ever could. but gojo does not know the reason, why are you grieving? it is because of your sorrow and he can’t give you the shoulder? or is it because you, once again, are letting yourself burn for loving him? the saddest is, he doesn’t know that, not that he has to.

is it still a pleasure to burn for him now?

“i wanted you to have it first,” he said quietly. “you’ve always been important to me, more than anyone else.” the weight of his words hung in the air, making it harder to maintain your composure. “thank you,” you replied, your voice barely steady. “i wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

you smile at each other as if trying to comfort each other. “are you pleased?” he asked softly— too afraid if his voice came out louder, he would break you. please, don’t say yes’ he begged his heart. just say the word, y/n’ he continued. he begged, once, twice, three time, for the past twelve years of his life knowing you, under the moonlight, to the moon that you say the words, begging him to stop the wedding. just say the word and he’ll come running to you.

you groan a little, “pleased? oh, i’m destroyed.”

no, he was destroyed.

so he leaned closer, faster enough to fill his eyes with a mixture of affection and again, something you couldn't quite identify. “you know, you’ve always been my closest friend. my confidant. my anchor.” you nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat. “and you’ve been mine,” you said softly, the unspoken words lingering between you.

the silence between you grew heavier as you stared at the lavender envelope in your hands. with a deep breath, you carefully opened the lavender envelope, your fingers trembling. the wedding invitation was exquisitely crafted, each detail speaking of the elegance and care that had gone into its creation. the elegant script revealing the date. seven weeks from now. your heart sank further, the realization hitting you like a wave.

you looked up at gojo, the question evident in your eyes. “seven weeks?” you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady. “that’s. . . soon.” he nodded, a hint of sadness in his eyes. “yeah, it’s a ‘shotgun’ wedding,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “things have been moving quickly when you are not around,” your heart ached at his words, the reality of his imminent marriage sinking in. “why so soon?" you asked, struggling to keep the tears at bay. “you are going to be a father? is that allowed?”

he chuckled at your attempt to joke, trying to hide the sadness that was so clearly there behind his eyes. the smile on his lips didn’t quite reach them, but he tried his best to keep up a brave face for you.

he scoffs, “apparently, they did,” he nodded.

he shrugged nonchalantly, trying to act as though it didn’t bother him in the slightest. he didn’t want you to know just how much turmoil he was facing with this entire situation. “yeah, not like we had much of a choice in the whole matter . . .” the fact that he was getting married had been eating at him for weeks. all of that time he had spent with you, all the memories. in just seven short, short weeks it would come to an end. he wanted to tell you. tell you just how much you meant to him, but . . .

but what? would it do any good?

your hand is gripping tightly around the bouquet, so tight, suffocating, until— for the second time that night the spine digs itself through your skin, straight to your heart— the pain, it’s unbearable, you feel like dying.

there was a long pause, the maze around you silent except for the faint rustling of leaves. you wanted to tell him everything, to confess how much he meant to you, but fear held you back. instead, you tried to focus on the moment, on the bittersweet reality of his impending marriage. “oh, my god—” you choke on your own. one hand covering your mouth before you face him.

gojo reached out and took your hand, his touch warm and comforting. “promise me we’ll always be friends, no matter what,” he said, his voice almost pleading. you squeezed his hand, fighting back tears. “always,” you promised, even as your heart shattered a little more. your hands, the one he wants to carry his heart by.

your eyes are shaking, matching his heart, it’s hurting. “i’m so happy for you,” your smile didn’t reach your eyes. someone once said that people’s hearts appear in their eyes, gojo can see yours now; it’s broken, shattered before him.

please don’t be happy for me, be miserable, so i don’t have the heart to leave you, so i can be with you,’ he wants to scream at you.

“oh, god, i’m so happy for you. . .”

look at you, a girl who doesn’t believe in god now crying, begging, pleading while calling his name because the pain was unbearable. how is cruel love can be?

the weight of the moment hung heavy in the air, the lavender invitation between you acting as both a bridge and a barrier. you took a deep breath, feeling the tears welling up, and without thinking, you pulled gojo into a hug. he stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, wrapping his arms around you in a familiar embrace.

your tears flowed freely, once, twice, thrice, the moonlight catching them and making your eyes sparkle like crystals. “i’m happy for you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of joy and sorrow. satoru held you tighter, his breath warm against your ear. “thank you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “it means everything to me to have your support.”

the maze around you seemed to close in, the hedges whispering secrets and memories of times past. you clung to him, your heartbreaking and mending all at once, the scent of the night flowers mingling with the salt of your tears. “i wish you every happiness,” you continued, your words barely more than a breath. “you deserve it, ‘toru. you deserve all the happiness in the world.”

he pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. his own were glistening, the usual sparkle tempered by the weight of the moment. “and you deserve happiness too,” he said softly, his thumb gently brushing a tear from your cheek. “promise me you’ll find it.”

your foreheads met, and the gentle press of his skin against yours felt like the most natural thing in the world. your breaths mingled, soft and warm, creating a delicate rhythm that only the two of you shared, a silent conversation of souls.

his eyes, filled with a depth of emotion you had always known but never fully understood, locked with yours. the moonlight bathed you both in a soft, ethereal glow, casting a spell that held the night in a timeless embrace. every unspoken word, every hidden feeling, shimmered in the air between you, a tapestry of love and longing woven through years of friendship.

gojo’s hand gently cupped your cheek, his touch feather-light, as if he were afraid you might disappear. slowly, almost reverently, he began to close the gap between you. his movements were unhurried, each inch a testament to the gravity of the moment, the culmination of everything that had been left unsaid.

your heart pounded in your chest, a wild, erratic beat that seemed to echo through the silence. the anticipation was electric, every second stretched into an eternity. as his lips drew nearer, you felt the world around you blur into insignificance, the maze and the moonlight fading into the background. then, with a tenderness that took your breath away, his lips brushed against yours. the touch was soft, almost tentative, like the whisper of a dream.

oh, how empty he is to be full by you.

the contact sent a shiver through you, a spark that ignited every fiber of your being. you responded instinctively, your hands finding their way to his face, fingers threading through his hair as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

the kiss was everything—a confession, a promise, a revelation. it spoke of years of hidden desires, of nights spent wondering, of the unbreakable bond that had always connected you. the taste of him, the feel of his lips moving against yours, was like coming home after a long, arduous journey.

when you finally pulled back, your breaths mingling in the cool night air, you opened your eyes to find him gazing at you with an expression that mirrored your own—wonder, longing, and a profound sense of rightness. ‘longing’, such a tender name for such a miserable state of being.

you nodded, the ache in your chest making it hard to speak. “i’ll try,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “but right now, i just need to be here for you.” gojo’s gaze held yours, the moonlight illuminating the silent understanding passing between you. “you’ve always been there for me,” he said, his voice a soft caress. “and i hope you always will be.”

the world around you seemed to fade, the only sounds the rustling of the leaves and the steady beating of your hearts. you felt a bittersweet calm wash over you, knowing that despite everything, your bond with satoru was unbreakable, saddest.

“i will be,” you promised, your voice firm despite the tears. “no matter what.”

he smiled then, a small, tender smile that spoke of shared sorrow, of the disaster from loving you, but oh how he promised, i will always be this tender for you. “good,” he whispered, pulling you back into his arms. “because i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

his arm tightly around you as your cheeks rest against his chest— he gathers you up, folds you to his heart, and looks at each other a little too long to be just friends.

[hirasunny]

Unforgotten Vow

pairing — k-drama! yeon sieun x fem! reader

synopsis — you and sieun made one simple promise when you were kids, and you continue to do so as you got older.

warnings/reader notes — mentions bullying, you and sieun r crybabies (in a good way), sunshine reader and sieun absolutely adores it, he thinks you're a goddess, references to season 1 plot

genre — childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, slight angst

word count — 2.5k+ words

note: hi! it's me again <3 i want to thank you for enjoying my fics! i read all of your comments and appreciate it a lot :( it really motivates me to write even though i'm not the best at it. much love u guys ^^ as a thanks, here’s a story dedicated to this precious boy 💛 p.s: should i make a part 2? TT

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ 　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Sieun was 7 years old when he met you.

He was celebrating his birthday at the park before he accidentally tripped and scraped his knee.

His mom and dad sat by the picnic table a few feet away from him, yet he moved unnoticed to a nearby bench. He sat down in pain as he tried to stop himself from crying.

But it was unsuccessful, his tears fell on his lap continuously. He had a feeling that his father was going to scold him again.

“Are you okay?”

Your voice was small and chirpy when you went up to him in question, tilting your head while he wiped his face and nodded—he was not one for talking.

However, you spoke again, “Do you need a band aid? I can give you one.” You asked shyly.

Sieun looked at you closely, your clothes dirty from possibly playing a lot, your hair was in decent braids but some strands already sticking out, and your legs were visibly decorated with dirt.

He moved to your face, chubby cheeks and (e/c) eyes that held curiosity in them. The boy didn’t mutter anything but still took the band aid in your offering hand, ripping it open.

You smiled and sat down beside him as you continued to talk with newly found confidence. Sieun didn’t even know what you were saying—was it about the kids at the playground? He wasn’t sure. You were talking too fast and too much.

Nonetheless, he listened.

It felt like an eternity when his mother finally called out for him; she seemed surprise as soon as her eyes landed on them.

“My mom is here.” Sieun stated, having a glance at his parental figure. That was the first time he opened his mouth, you thought. You pouted at him.

“Already? But I was going to invite you to the slide.” You responded, upset. He didn’t talk—but you liked his company. He was the only one who didn’t cut you off from speaking!

Sieun gazed back at you weirdly. Why weren’t you telling him mean things like the other kids do? And you even want to play with him. It puzzled the poor boy.

Then, he noticed your lips change from a frown to a big grin instead. “But you’ll be back right? We can play next time!” You say in excitement, nodding to yourself.

“What’s your name? I’m (Name)!”

He took a long time to process it before he answered, “Sieun.” Honestly, he had no idea why he replied, but maybe it was the way you were determined to make him your friend.

It made him feel normal in some way.

“Sieun..” You repeated slowly, just to get used to the sound of it rolling off your tongue.

A shout of your name stopped him from speaking up, you took a glimpse in that direction with a pout, “It’s my mom! I gotta go.” You huffed, looking at the boy beside you.

“Come back, okay? I’ll be here tomorrow!” You added, giving a wave as you ran to your mother. He stood up, observing you.

He disliked going outside. But if it meant that you were there, it might be bearable.

—

“Sieun! What happened?” You breathed out after running. The boy was sitting alone at the swing as he stared into abyss.

To everyone else, he looked completely fine.

But you knew him—if you stare in his eyes long enough, you would see how much emotion he actually keeps by himself. And right now, you had no doubt that he was going through something heavy.

“Your mom’s really worried, she called and said you weren’t at home.” You inform softly, settling at the swing next to his. The night was quiet, you heard nothing but the sounds of trees brushing against one another and the creaking of your swings.

You got comfortable as you admired the starry sky.

“My parents..” Sieun started, following your gaze. You hummed, an indication that you were listening.

“They’re getting a divorce.”

You raise your eyebrows in shock, looking back at him. “What..?”

He avoided your look, the ground being more interesting than the look on your face. He felt disappointed that you had to see him like this. Again.

Yet you never cared.

The word was quite new to you, it was only recently when you discovered its meaning—though you knew it was more than just a word that hurt Sieun. It meant something to him.

So you placed a hand on his shoulder and peeking your head closer to his, “Hey, it’s gonna be fine. You have me.”

Sieun finally looked at you, his eyes speaking to you more than words could express.

Thank you, they say.

You laughed lightly, ruffling his hair. He hated when people touch his hair, but you? He never minded.

“But if you have to move someplace else..” You rest your hand back on your lap. “Promise me you’ll come back?”

Oh, why were you looking at him like that?

Like you never want him to go?

Sieun’s shoulders eased and his tense look melted as he studied you. Then, he slowly raised his pinky finger. “I promise.” He told you truthfully. You smiled at him, finding the sincerity in his words.

You hooked your pinky with his, “Okay.” You whispered as to not ruin the peaceful moment.

Sieun was 10 years old when he promised you that he’d come back if he ever left someday.

—

Fate jinxed the both of you.

It must’ve laughed for the reason that it was you who had to move away instead of him.

Here you were, crying uncontrollably in front of your best friend at the airport.

“This is so unfair!” You sobbed, violently wiping your tears as Sieun gave you a tissue. He hasn’t said a single word since the ride to the airport. He seemed out of it, you noticed.

On the other hand, this was his first time to skip a few classes. You were surprised when he showed up at your house unannounced. You kept asking him several times if it was okay for him to do such a thing the whole car ride, he would simply nod as he stared at you after, you ignored it out of nervousness.

You never knew that he was memorizing you, because it could be the last time he’d ever see you again.

The star hair clip he gifted you on your birthday was neatly on your hair, the way you bounce your knee rapidly each time you get anxious, your backpack had all sorts of keychains that you buy from school trips with him, and the looks you give him—every smile, every funny face, every pout and cry. He'd remember it all.

Sieun took a mental note of all the little things, like he was studying: because if this test is about you, surely, he'd ace it.

Though, he wasn't the only one who notices, you also recognized a few things. Like his tight grip on the strap of his bag was evident, the slight twitching of his fingers—a habit he does when he’s overthinking, and his brown orbs that look at you to tell you everything you need to know.

He's...wait.

Is he tearing up?

You widen your eyes as he shuffled awkwardly and looked down, trying to maintain his posture.

"You're.." You were hesitant, but you took a step forward, bringing him to your embrace. You heard sniffles on your shoulder as he laid his forehead there while his arms remained by his side. He didn't know where to place them.

"Don't cry, you big baby." You murmur, your tears slipping out for God knows how many times today. "I'm gonna come back, you know that." You assured him. His hands finally moved to your back, gripping your shirt as he nodded.

You two stayed that way for a few minutes before his gaze lingered at you, "Promise me you will." Sieun lowly spoke with trembling lips. You exhaled from your nose, bringing his hand close to your chest as you do the same, then interlocked both of your pinkies.

"I promise you, more than anything."

Sieun was 13 when you left South Korea.

—

Three years had passed by as Sieun faced everything alone.

The problems, the bullying, the guilt—

Suho.

Every step he took felt like he was getting pulled down further and further away from the light he once saw.

From Suho, and most especially from you.

What would you think of him if you knew what was happening in his life right now?

He got his answer when he saw you.

You.

Your figure stood patiently outside his apartment door, a plastic bag containing all the snacks you used to share together was held loosely in one hand and your phone on the other.

Your appearance had completely changed. Your hair grew a bit longer, and the baby fat on your cheeks now reduced. You looked different, but deep down, Sieun hoped you were the still the happy-go-lucky girl he knew.

As you raised your phone to your ear, you check your left. You paused as the phone of the boy you were waiting for rang loudly in the pocket of his jacket.

The two of you stared at one another as the ringing continued, you, however, smiled knowingly at him.

"I kept my promise."

Sieun couldn't believe he could run that fast when he brought you into his arms.

Slowly, the chaos in his mind went silent.

Finally, for once. He was at peace.

Momentarily, he realized he was crying because you had to wipe the tears away, "I know," You still told him in a caring tone. "I'm here."

No other words were needed as you both remained in each other's arms for a while that day.

A few days had gone by rather quickly, and you started to see more of Sieun. He had grown taller since the last time you saw him, his voice was deeper from the timid, high-pitched one you always heard, and his eyes that used to shine at you were now dull as an unsharpened knife.

Regardless, something else had brought your attention—his walls that broke down when you met him was building itself up again. He became distant. The Sieun you cherished was back in his little shell, the one who refused help and locked himself away from people. You knew you had to pull him out.

So you were present, just like before. In every visit at Suho's hospital, you sat beside him when he typed out his messages; in every school he got rejected to, you had a list of backup schools he can apply for; in every night he had nightmares, you were only a call away; in every session at therapy, you were there outside, waiting.

Despite all the hardships and troubles he was facing, you smiled warmly at him.

He never understood any of it. It resembled the times when you were kids. Where you stayed with him more than anyone else.

How can you, someone so beautiful, still smile adoringly at something so broken, with its pieces gradually falling apart?

One time at the bus stop, it was extremely cold when the rain poured heavily around you.

Even as you laughed at a sarcastic comment he made about freezing to death, you still took his cold hands to yours, blowing on it. "What are you doing?" He questioned, startled as he tried to withdraw his hands.

"Keeping you warm, dummy."

You were glowing, and you gaze at him with the same loving grin. His heart fluttered, feeling his frigid fingers soften and warm up because of you.

He pretended not to know if the cause of his face and ears going red was also you.

You never complained and never rushed. You were there, patient and supportive.

Soon, he thought of himself from a few years ago. Whatever 13-year-old Sieun had realized when you went abroad, he was right.

Because he loved you. For the longest time.

And he was not going to let you go.

Just before the day he would move to the new apartment in Yeongdeungpo, where he was accepted in a school named Eunjang High, he knocked on your door, with your favorite food and drink.

"Wow! Is this your goodbye gift?" You teased him, taking the bag from his hand as you let him inside.

He wordlessly sat down when you invited him to the couch, you tilt your head. When Sieun was quiet, he had something in his mind. There was a sparkle of certainty in his puppy-look eyes as he stared at you.

"You okay, pretty boy?" The nickname was familiar, you always called him that ever since your playground hangouts. He often tells you to stop that—but you couldn't, not when you notice his ears getting red and his lips that tries to refrain himself from smiling.

“…” Crap. What was he going to say again? He made efforts to practice in front of the mirror only for him to fail at the moment he needed his words.

To you, it looked like he was struggling. It worried you.

You took the guts to place a hand on his cheek, fixating his focus on you. "Sieun, what's going on—"

"I love you."

You let out a surprised sound, your eyes wide at the sudden words.

You felt a sense of rushing emotions inside you. Was it excitement, shock, or bashfulness?

Whatever it was, you were just sure it was making your face hot.

Okay. That was straightforward.

But it was Yeon Sieun, the boy who always had a sure answer.

You pinch his cheek lightly, he squinted his eyes at you as if it could help his ruddy ears from turning back to its original color. "Hey, are you crazy?! Why are you saying such things?" You asked just so you can lighten up the conversation.

"Because I do. I love you." He calmly told you again, the three magic words made you cover your face. "Okay, okay! I get it." You were embarrassed, could he not act so nonchalant?! You were freaking out here!

"Is it.. bad?" Sieun mumbled, watching as you grumble something in your hands, somewhere along the lines of: "Curse those cold-blooded veins in your body!"

You looked at him, red faced with a pout. "No, of course not! It's just that..."

You trailed off, finding the strength to face him again and held his cold hands in your warm ones. You took a moment, "I.. I love you, too. Since forever." You breathed out, smiling shakily at him.

Were you a Goddess? Sieun thought. How could you look so beautiful?

He leaned to you, initiating first. "Can I kiss you?" He asks in a deep voice, pulling your hands.

You gulped nervously, nodding as no words could come out of your mouth.

He moved, closer and closer, until your noses touched and the two of you closed your eyes. The world around you stopped moving when his lips gently settled on yours.

Sieun was 16 when he kissed his first love.